Believe Me, No One Is More Upset About the Botched Dragon-Slaying Than I Am
But thy accusations that I falsified my dragon-slaying qualifications are absolutely unfounded
By Jorgen Smith, Dragon Slayer
Lord Percival,
No doubt you are still enraged about last Sunday’s devastation and destruction. As the Dragon Slayer contracted to your estate, let me assure you: No one in the realm is more upset about the botched dragon-slaying than I am.
Given the catastrophic, fiery losses you have sustained, I fully understand your strong emotions. That being said, I must contest the inaccuracies you have spouted about me and this incident in public.
1. You accused me of falsifying my education history to win the slaying contract.
During your inebriated rant three days ago, outside of Ye Curséd Duckling Tavern, you alleged (and I quote), “That [expletive] Jorgen never even went to Prince Towne University!”
My Lord, I never claimed to attend Prince Towne University. Check your papers (if they remain un-scorched) and you will find my transcript from the Dragon Community Safety Program at Prince’s University, of Townes. Different school entirely. Regardless, everyone knows that P.U.T. (Go, Jesters!) is one of the leading correspondence colleges in the realm.
So please, learn to read, and get thy facts straight before calling me a liar.
2. You accused me of falsifying my previous work experience.
Your mead-soaked words exactly were, “That [expletive] never slew a dragon in his [expletive] life!”
My Lord, you must have inhaled too much hellfire smoke last weekend, for your mind is addled. Look here - I never claimed to have previously slain a dragon (although I maintain full confidence in my ability to do so). My reference from Lady Winterbottom clearly stated that I exterminated a “beast of unnatural size” which had terrorized her property.
No, it wasn’t a dragon – but it was a ferocious and (most likely) rabid boar. I would have happily explained this detail to you if you hadn’t been in such a God-forsaken rush on the day we interviewed.
3. You accused me of being drunk on the morning of the slaying expedition.
My Lord, you are naïve, stupid, or both if you think Dragon Slayers do their jobs sober. Simply look in your library (well, the town library, I suppose) and you will find plentiful accounts of the grand Breakfast-and-Ales tradition among Dragon Slayers dating back to Saint George himself! I merely maintained the noble tradition. As did the men-in-arms you gave me, I might add.
4. You accused me of Gross Cowardice during the actual dragon encounter.
Specifically, you claimed “Jorgen kicked my men down and fled the cave, even taking their horses!”
My Lord, you simply were not there, and thus you cannot give account. Besides, there was no need to kick your men down. One look at the beast and all three of them fell to their knees, pleading to Heaven for their lives. Only I escaped because I had noticed the dragon’s frills flutter (indicating imminent incendiary attack). Your men were toast. Regrettably, I could not save them.
Rather than returning with none of your men and none of your horses, I decided to rescue at least the steeds. Great thanks you should give me for this charity!
5. You alleged that during the dragon’s escape and subsequent attack on your lands and houses, that I broke into your storehouse and thieved another horse, one cart, and four wine casks.
Here I can only laugh at your ignorance. My Lord, do you realize how flammable a liquid wine is? In Dragon Community Safety 101, we were taught to reduce or eliminate potential inflammables wherever possible, and that is precisely what I did. Now, I will admit to consuming the wines since then. But that was not my reason for taking them, and surely, I will pay their expense at some future point.
My Lord, let me summarize.
You had a dragon, you wanted it gone, and I tried my best to do this for you. I admit the slaying expedition did not go according to plan. As it happens, dragons are much swifter than they appear in the illuminated training manuscripts!
However, let’s be fair – your representatives vastly underrepresented the dragon’s size in your letter to me. Also, they said the dragon had terrorized you and eaten your farm animals and farm hands for a period of seven years. What on God’s green earth were you waiting for, man? Your entire life was a tinderbox waiting to be sparked.
Yes, I feel bad that the beast escaped my grasp, became infuriated, and incinerated your manor, your millhouse, your maids, and your talkative nephew – Todderick, was that his name?
But my Lord, pause for just a moment and consider this catastrophe from my point of view. You can rebuild a manor, a mill, and hire new men-in-arms. But can you rebuild my professional reputation – or my confidence?
What could have been a glorious day is now an apocalyptic memory for both of us. Instead of sharing victory pints at Ye Curséd Duckling, you slander me outside their door. All this could have been prevented, had we slowed down and communicated with one another. Hopefully, you will take this lesson to heart moving forward.
Should your dragon return (Professor Wartfoot says this happens in 65% of cases) do me one gigantic favor and contract someone else. Maybe if you weren’t so tight-fisted with your coffers, you could even afford one of those Prince Towne University hot shots.
Yours Truly,
Jorgen Smith, Dragon Slayer
Rian Casey Cork is the author and host of The Gargoyle, a newsletter and podcast exploring themes of authenticity, creativity, and curiosity. You can read his work at:
Image sources: Juan Pantoja de la Cruz, Wikimedia Commons
Lieve Verschuier, Wikimedia Commons
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I don't think they should be slain anyway. They are JOB CREATORS. And our job is burning to death.