The alley the cloaked stranger had led them to, was deserted, dark and dirty. 

The primitive road was covered in mud and a wide array of bodily products left by humans and animals alike. Enorwin's face was contorted into an ugly grimace and Arwund couldn't help but smile inwardly at the prince's disgust. Apparently, he really wasn't used to the reality of the towns and cities of Garowain. 

The stranger stopped in front of a brick wall which blocked their passage. He turned around to face the two others and their horses. 

"These houses have been abandoned," he said, nodding towards both of the wooden houses to their sides. "We can safely speak here. What is it you want to know?" 

"There are certain rumours," Enorwin said, "about a draconic threat of sorts. Do you possess any knowledge about this apparent threat?" 

The stranger nodded. "I, too, have heard these rumours. I am a wanderer, you see. I travel from place to place without a home. I once slept in a tavern not very far from here, in a village called Chesterham. Do you know where that is?" 

"I do," Enorwin said. "My father used to take me hunting there. In the forest, that is." 

"Yes, not in the village, I hope," the stranger said. "Anyway, while I was sitting in at a table in the evening, I saw a group of three: two men and a woman. I asked if I could join them for dinner and they said they didn't mind. We talked a bit and once they had made sure I really wasn't planning to betray them to the sheriff, they decided to let me in on a secret." 

"They were draconic humans, I presume?" Enorwin said. 

"Yup. That's the same guy who thought I was bold," Arwund mumbled to himself. 

The stranger smiled. "I get a feeling you two aren't the best of friends, so to say," he commented. "But that is none of my business. Yes, they were draconic humans. They told me they were part of some group, the Servants of Darfith they called themselves. They told me I shouldn't be afraid: only the knights ought to be afraid, because Darfith would soon be returning." 

"Darfith?" Enorwin asked, eyes wide in shock. "Did you say Darfith?" 

Arwund looked at him. "Darfith's dead," he said. He also knew the name: the dragon Darfith had been the last of the Dragon Kings. According to myth, his scales had been pitch black. 

"Unlike his predecessors, he has not been slain by a knight, however," Enorwin reminded him. "He may still live." 

"And he hasn't been seen in more than three centuries," Arwund said. "Those breathers were probably just being metaphorical." 

"Breathers?" Enorwin repeated. 

"Draconic humans," Arwund clarified. "You know, 'breathers' as in fire-breathing. It's a slang word." 

Enorwin nodded, but judging from his blank look, he probably didn't really get it. 

"I don't know whether they meant it literally," the stranger said. "All I know is that that's what they told me." 

"Is there a chance they were just drunk?" Enorwin asked. 

The stranger shook his head. "They had drunk some ale, but not enough to get drunk." 

"The Servants of Darfith," Arwund murmured. He tried to remember if he'd ever heard that name before, but nothing came to mind. He'd known plenty of draconic humans throughout his life, but he'd never heard anything about this mysterious group. 

"Why are you telling us all this, by the way?" he asked the stranger. 

The man smiled almost enigmatically. "There's a prophecy, you know." 

Arwund sighed. "Not a prophecy. Please, this whole thing is already enough of a knight's tale. We don't need any more tropes." 

"I'm just telling you the story," the man said. "But who knows? It could be true. I've seen more miraculous things in my time." 

"What does it say?" Enorwin asked eagerly. 

The stranger closed his eyes, concentrating on the memory of the text. Then he said: 

"There will come a prince and two lesser men 

The prince will slay the black-scaled one 

And the creature's servants will bow down to him 

But the lesser men will abandon him 

He will rule and tear down all that is old 

But when the king's forces march, he too will fall." 

"The black-scaled one may be Darfith," Enorwin says. "And I am a prince." 

"Which makes me one of the lesser men, thank you," Arwund said. "Seriously, even if it's true, it doesn't mean it refers to you." 

"However, it does speak of three people and a creature which is probably a dragon," the stranger said. "And you are looking into this draconic threat. You could be the ones to fulfil this prophecy, maybe even by just thinking it refers to you. You only need a third man." The stranger smiled innocently. 

"Do you mean...?" Enorwin began to ask. The stranger nodded. 

"Are you sure you trust him?" Arwund asked. He'd been among criminals all his life and in his experience, bringing along random strangers into whatever you were up to was never a good idea. 

"He helped us," Enorwin said. "Besides, why would I trust you?" 

"Alright, you've got a point there," Arwund said. "But you did promise me my freedom. That's a good reason not to betray you." 

"Because I know what crimes you have committed," Enorwin said. "Unlike you, this man isn't a notorious criminal." 

"But he may turn out to be one," Arwund said. "How can you be so sure he won't trick us?" 

The man simply stood there, listening and smiling like always. Arwund found that he didn't know whether he instinctively distrusted that man or whether the mysterious stranger secretly frightened him. Somehow, the man's gaze seemed to see right into his very soul. 

"Why do you want to join us?" Enorwin asked. 

The man shrugged. "I tend to see where life takes me. And you two," he looked Enorwin in the eye and then Arwund, "have caught my attention. And who knows, maybe I can help you with your mission. I'd gladly do whatever I can to help." 

"Why?" Arwund asked. "What is your motive?" 

"My motive," the man said, "is that I'm a wanderer, as I said before. I like seeing the world, I like discovering things and helping people out." 

"Is that really all there is to it?" Arwund asked suspiciously. 

The man shrugged again. "Yes, that's really it." 

Arwund had to admit the man sounded sincere. And he had to admit Enorwin had a point: he probably wasn't the most trustworthy guy around either. 

"Alright," he sighed. "If you want to come with us, it's fine by me. What do you think, Enorwin?" 

Enorwin glared at him. "What did I tell you about respect?" 

"Sorry, my lord," Arwund said. 

Enorwin shook his head. "I give up," he said. "You'll probably never learn anyway." 

"You're right, I won't," Arwund said. 

Enorwin looked at the stranger again. "You may travel with us if you wish to," he said. "However, I would very much like to know your name." 

"My name's Maréin," the man said. It was a southern name, Arwund noticed. Garowain was divided into three parts: the Northlands, the Middle Lands and the Southlands. Each of these parts was again divided into multiple counties, duchies and other regions, but within each of the three parts, the language was the same. The language of the Middle Lands was the dominant language of Garowain, even though the capital was in the Southlands and most commoners in the Northlands and the Southlands only spoke their regional language. Arwund could know: he had been born in the Northlands himself. 

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Maréin," Enorwin said. Arwund noticed he had already given up on trying to pronounce Maréin's name with a southern accent, instead just saying something like Muh-RAIN. "I am Enorwin, knight and prince of the Flaming Lands, and this is my companion, Arwund Marholdson." 

"Pleased to meet you," Arwund said. 

"Pleased to meet you too," Maréin said. 

"Do you have a horse?" Enorwin asked. 

"Er... I'm afraid not," Maréin replied. 

"Then we'll get you one," Enorwin said. "Follow me!"