What A Knight Is For
When Sir Anya came back to the village, the mayor was waiting.
"Did you defeat her?"
"There was no defeating to do. She had a cold. I gave her soup."
"You. Gave. The dragon. Soup."
"Yes."
The mayor opened and closed his mouth.
"Have you considered," he said eventually, "that perhaps you are not the kind of knight we expected when we hired one?"
"Yes," said Sir Anya. "Frequently."
The villagers, who had been listening, started to disperse. Some looked annoyed. Some looked thoughtful.
The next morning, the mayor came back to Sir Anya's small house.
"The other villages are saying," he said, "that we are very lucky to have a dragon as a neighbour. Apparently other villages keep getting attacked, and we never do, and now they have figured out it is because Pyra likes us."
"Yes," said Sir Anya.
"And you are the reason she likes us."
"And the village is the reason she likes us. We have been polite. We have left her alone. I just brought soup."
The mayor sat down on Sir Anya's doorstep. He thought for a long time.
"Would Pyra come to the harvest fair?" he said, eventually. "We could have a bonfire. She could light it. It would be a tradition."
Sir Anya thought.
"I think she would love that," she said. "Especially if there's soup."
There was, indeed, soup. There was Pyra at the bonfire, lighting it elegantly with one careful flame. There was a small new tradition. And