He was out furrowing his small plot, his aged yet still muscular arms helping his ox pull the wooden plow. As he came back and forth, concentrating on a small pole he had erected, keeping his rows straight, he was daydreaming of being young again.Those were glorious days. But he couldn't return to that life now. He had been out for too long. His age would slow him down, surely.

Those were his thoughts as the King's emmesaries approached him, on shining white horses. "Sir Holeg of Genedaria, The Greatest Warrior the king has ever known! The King Seeks thine service once more, the strength of thine mighty arm. The kingdom is great in need!", cried the foremost official, a plump one with greased mustaches. This looked to be a man used to great pomp and ceremony.

Holeg just raised an eyebrow. "What does the king need me for? He surely has a great number of knights younger and more fit to the task than I."

" He wishes to see you in person. If you would please make ready to accompany us?"

Holeg could'nt refuse. He was quite fond of the king. The current king was actually the son of thone he had served under. Holeg had known him as a child. He went inside his small wattle and daub house, and put on his nicest tabbard. He mounted his horse and rode with the royal emmissaries to the city.

It took them about three days to travel there. It was a beautiful, shining place, crowned with a tall, spired castle in the center. They crossed several drawbridges, and rings of stone fortess walls.

Holeg was quickly ushered into the throne room. The old court ettiquete coming back to him, he walked the length of the red carpet and bowed before the throne." you have summoned me sire," he said.

" Sir Holeg, It gives my heart hope to see you before me. There is a terrible evil attacking my kingdom. Merceglon the vile,the greatest dragon of them all. All of my greatest warriors have failed to defeat it. You are the most valiant knight our good kingdom has ever known. You must slay the vile beast."

Holeg looked into the king's eyes. They were weighted with a terrible sadness, a look that constant stress and tumoil brings. That was all it took. "Where is this dragon, sire?".

"It is in the hills of the southlands, but I fear it will not be long until it decides to come northwards, ravaging."

Holeg nodded. He left, and hurried back to his farm. In the small patch of forest behind, nestled in a small pile of rocks, was a small cave. In that was a wooden chest. Holeg pulled this out, and forced it open. A wave of musty air smote his face. Out he pulled a suit of mail, hauberk, leggings and coif, along with a helmet. There was a long sword, and his blue-gold surcoat.

Beside this in the cave were a wooden shield and lance, all blue-gold too. He took these items into his house, where he oiled the mail and sword down. He put on his armor, and over that his surcoat, bearing his crest of arms. He pulled his sword-belt on, and pulled through the buckle, over and around. He saddled his horse, and rode off toward the south.

The dragon wasn't hard to find. Holeg merely had to follow the trail of razed villages and dead knights over the country's rolling hills. Holeg was feeling grand. Old feelings came swarming back to him. The clink of his armor, the gentle breath of his horse, the country side gently passing by were all reminders to him of his past days. The feel of adventure came back to him. But that did not make the knot in his gut subside.

He had never told the tale to anyone. He had fought Merceglon before, years ago. That was were he had got the burn scars on his body that were obscured by his clothing. The evil beast had nearly been the end of him. His hard, stony courage born out of the fires of experience has quenched a little by the memories of that awful battle. If he couldn't defeat Merceglon when he was younger, how could he do it now? Why did he agree to this? It was an inborn desire to serve his king, to the end, if needs be.

A column of smoke rising in the distance brought him back to the present. He spurred his steed to a run, keeping his lance pointed up. He could see the evil creature, walking through a small village, spouting flames and raking with its claws at hapless peasants. Eight or nine knights surrounded him, attacking either on foot or horseback. They were getting slaughtered.

Holeg watched in desperation, trying to analyze the way the dragon fought. It didn't seem to have any weak points. His ran with all speed towards the creature, while Holeg lowered his blue lance. The dragon came closer and closer. Holeg stood up in the saddle, and hurled the lance like a spear with all of his might. That made his arm ache, momentarily remimding him of his age. The lance soared through air, and landed with precision straight into Merceglon's eye.

The great dragon reared its head back and roared, great gouts of flame streaming from it's jaws. It clawed at it's face, trying to dislodge the weapon stuck there.

Holeg drew his sword, while passing underneath Merceglon, and cut one of it's paws on the inside. The dragon swatted at him with other, knocking him off of his mount and sending him sailing through the air.

The thatch roof of a house broke Holeg's fall, as the clattered onto the floor. His whole body ached. He started to get up with a groan. His joints creaked. His grey hair hung down in his face. He had lost his helmet.

A peasant family was huddled in the corner. This inspired him to motion. Through the hole in the wall that served for a window, Holeg could see the dragon approach. He picked up his sword. The dragon put his head next to the door, and probed inside with his tongue. Holeg lopped it off with one great hack, leaving it writhing on the floor. The dragon took a great breath, as if to breath fire. Holeg stabbed at the soft inside of its mouth before it could. As the dragon recoiled its head, Holeg grabbed on to one of it's nostrils. It hurt, like having one's hand too close to a fire place. The hot breath and smoke stung his eyes.

The dragon swung his head, making Holeg slide off the nostril and down its face. He slid on the scales, past its eyes, and grabbed a-hold of one of the dragon's spines. He stabbed at the other eye with his sword, peircing it. He flew off of the dragon's head and rolled to the ground, huffing. Merceglon reeled about blind, a sword and a lance lodged in either eye. He felt hurt, and shaky. His vision was fading. On the ground next to him was the weapon of a fallen knight. It was not a lance but a boar spear. He struggled to his feet, and picked the bulky polearm up. He ran towards the thrashing beast with all the strength he could muster and stabbed it into the dragon's nostril.

The dragon roared and cried. It wobbled weakly on it's legs, and then crashed to the ground, dead. Holeg sank to his knees. He has breathing heavily, and his chest hurt. He tried to stand up, but he just fell down again. His gray hair was soaked with sweat, and clung in clumps to his face. he turned over on to his back, and succumbed to death.