The letter to her parents were finished (and copied to a new piece of paper) after nearly two hours. She decided on rather not adding the line you should be happy for me, I could have been a Lady of the Night, but rather focussed on the money she would be bringing with her to help the family out. She had just enough time to get packed, get the letter to the nearest messenger and meet up with the rest of the WERDS team at their office next to the One-eyed Beggar Tavern. “Next to” was exactly what put the WERDS team apart from the other, less sophisticated (but usually more deadly) DS companies. Well, that and actually owning their own dragon. Or at least having her as part of the team. Though Berty didn’t live in the city. It would have been awkward to find space for her and would have given their lucrative game away.
A sign showing a knight posing with a dead dragon (the usual hunter-pose; one foot on the carcass of whatever had been killed, a weapon in one hand and a smug grin plastered on the hunter’s face) hung above the door. The wording – in flourished letters – below the picture rang: “We R Dragon Slayers”.
Therese opened the door to the small office and stepped inside. A small bell above the door rang as the door opened and closed. The office was of a modest size, with a desk and a few chairs, a cabinet and a couple of pieces of armour, relics from “the olden days of dragon fighting” (inherited by the knight, Philip, who owned this small venture) and some pictures of the dragons which had been slain throughout the years by Sir Philip. No one seemed to ever notice that the dragons in the pictures looked surprisingly the same. But, then again, how many people actually saw dragons. You also did not care much how the great wyrm looked when it set your house/fields/town on fire.
Sir Philip was sitting behind the desk at the moment, reading the morning paper and drinking a cup of tea. He did not look at all like the dashing figure in the pictures (or the tales), but a good suit of armour did a lot to give the image of the ‘dashing knight saving the damsel in distress who are about to be eaten by the feroscious dragon’. He barely glanced up as Therese entered, sat down, and poured herself a cup of tea.
“Ready to go?”
“Berty left earlier this morning to get a head start. She’ll need to find a suitable cave before we can really get going. Seeing as this is your home town we’re going to, we’ve decided on a week or so of “spottings” before she starts burning anything. Is there perhaps a certain house or family – No? Very well, suit yourself. A week should give you time enough to settle before the show starts.” He folded the newspaper and threw it into a bin by his feet. “Don’t look so glum, Therese. You’re going home! Why don’t you think of it as paid leave?”