The man and the dragon are one- but for how long?
Nikolai was not a stickler for rules. Heck, the whole reason he was standing in that courtyard was from ignoring the most recent of the King's many decrees, something about no fighting on Sunday. Well, he couldn't exactly help what he had done- the kid had been asking for it. Fresh from some fancy apprenticeship with the Duke of Who- Knows- What- And- I- Really- Don't-Care, he'd strolled in to Nikolai's favorite alehouse strutting his fancy little sword and his designer leather jerkin around for all the "little peasants" to marvel at. Nikolai had not moved from his seat when the young man asked him to; they exchanged insults and took out their knives. Well, Nikolai did. Before the kid had even fully drawn his bejeweled dagger there was a thin line of blood trickling from his royal neck.
The new penalty for murder on a Sunday was death- either that or life, such as it was, in the army. Nikolai had chosen life, and he was beginning to regret it.