raiders and fended off the raids, he would spend hours flying
with his dragon, who would be mirthful with the chance to
stretch its wings and soar, taking great dives off cliffs. It was
a magnificent sight. At times his dragon would spin in the
air to shake him off its back and rarely he would fall, but his
dragon always caught him if he did.
When enemy troops were attacking the castle, he would
awake to find an ebony steed, decked in full armoury,
impatiently snorting at him and thumping its hoof in the
corner of his chamber. He chortled.
Patience yet, I shall fetch my armour and we shall ride to
battle.
In melee, with his trusty steed, he had yet been undefeated.
On days when there were no impending attacks, no defences
nor rescues required of him, mornings would bring a brownand-white hound watching him from the corner of his
chamber. Those were favoured mornings, unburdened by
duties for the day, the chance to continue with his research
in the castle library, his hound by his side. On fairweathered days he would bring piles of parchment, scrolls
and ancient books into the woods behind the castle. There
was a great oak tree under which he would read, sheltered in
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