The Mercenaries of Mayhem entered Mayor Joff's mansion, immediately realizing one thing:
This was way fancier than anything they had ever been invited to before.
The banquet hall was packed with nobles, merchants, and traders, all dressed in their finest silks and jewels. Chandeliers glowed brightly, servants carried platters of expensive food, and an entire roast boar sat at the center of a massive table.
Bob's eyes sparkled.
Jim muttered, "I've never stolen food from a place this fancy before."
Derek elbowed him. "We're guests. Try to act normal."
Jim nodded, taking a swig from his flask. "This is normal."
Marcus, scanning the room, leaned in. "Uh… guys? That knight over there… I think we have a problem."
The group turned.
Across the banquet hall stood a towering man in full plate armor—his crimson cloak embroidered with golden dragons, his greatsword strapped to his back.
Karoth the Dragonslayer.
He was one of the most famous knights in the kingdom, a warrior feared and respected for his deeds. He had recently gained fame for killing a dragon himself—or so the rumors said.
And now, he was staring directly at them.
Bob whispered, "Oh, crap."
Jim took another drink. "Well. We had a good run."
Before they could escape, Karoth approached them, his heavy boots echoing in the hall.
His gaze was intense, but his expression was… surprisingly respectful.
"So," Karoth rumbled, his voice deep. "You're the ones who slew the Mountain Dragon."
The group froze.
Derek, forcing himself to stay calm, nodded. "Yes. That's… us."
Karoth crossed his arms. "I came to this town to slay that beast myself. But when I arrived, I was told it was already dead."
Bob laughed nervously. "Oh, uh… yep. We, uh, got to it first!"
Karoth nodded approvingly. "Then you know how truly difficult it is to slay a dragon."
The group glanced at each other.
Jim, not missing a beat, sighed dramatically. "Oh, so difficult."
Marcus nodded. "Truly… a nightmare of a battle."
Bob placed a hand over his heart. "It took everything we had."
Bam smiled serenely. "Majestic."
Karoth leaned in. "I know that struggle. The way a dragon's scales deflect ordinary blades, the sheer strength of its wings, the burning intensity of its breath."
Bob nodded quickly. "Oh yeah, tons of fire. So much fire."
Jim grinned. "I still have nightmares about it."
Derek, internally: I actually do, but for completely different reasons.
Karoth studied them, then placed a massive gauntleted hand on Bob's shoulder.
"You have my respect," he said. "Few men live to tell the tale of facing a dragon and surviving."
The group held back nervous laughter.
Karoth raised a goblet. "To fellow dragon slayers."
The room erupted in cheers.
Bob grinned. "Well, we sure can't correct him now."
Jim raised his drink. "To us."
And with that, the Mercenaries of Mayhem drank to their completely fabricated legend, hoping desperately that no one would ever find out the truth.