The storeroom, though separate from the cottage, was a simple, functional structure. It served as a shed for farming tools, fishing hooks, and discarded items, but above all, it was a storage space for freshly caught fish—kept overnight to prevent the overwhelming stench from invading the house. Old Man Jacob had insisted on it, a decision made long ago to maintain some level of comfort within their modest home.
After each fishing session, the stored fish would be sent to the Trader by the bridge, a task left sometimes to Alex, who had just entered the storeroom.
The dim glow of a burning lamp flickered against the walls, its flame weak but necessary for searching through the cluttered space. Though far from a proper searchlight, it provided just enough visibility to maneuver past shovels and barrels.
Carefully stepping over scattered tools, Alex reached for the bucket of fresh salmons, water sloshing as he lifted it. He knew that one wrong move could spell disaster—spilled fish, soaked clothes, and the wrath of his father.
Despite the struggle, he managed to lift the bucket, though it was far lighter than he had expected.
Outside, the night stretched on, the Winter's cold creeping into his bones. The wind howled as it swept thick blankets of snow across the ground, burying everything in an icy white view. It was the kind of night that made survival feel like an accomplishment.
Alex dropped the bucket after closing the storehouse door shut, to adjust his jacket's collar, a flip over the other, and he was good to go.
The bucket though having an handle, it was easier to carry with both sides. A struggle down a slope from the storehouse, carefully dragging the feets through the Snow and sneezing at intervals from the cold.... All these were Alex's situation before he got to the Trader by the Bridge.
A patched up shed, with a tinted structure stood up ahead, and Alex picked up the Pace.
Before he got to the door, his eye had already spotted the Trader sitting outside with a tobacco in his mouth.
'Another weird old man,' Alex thought to himself before yelling out, "We got some fresh fish Mister T."
The Trader raised his head, "ALEX?" He stood up, "What are you doing outside in this cold? Doesn't the chill shiver your bones?"
Alex struggled to the door, then dropped the bucket by the Trader's feet, "Well," He stretched out his arms, "My Father..."
The Trader signaled him to come in with the bucket, where they would continue the conversation.
"Yes, your Father..." He asked, closing the door shut to avoid the cold from turning off the small fire burning inside.
This fire served yet again as a warmth giving flame and radiating light illuminating the space.
Alex sat on the haystack piled up far from the fire, the smell of dried leaves and wild seed lingered in this area, all thanks to the grass. He continued, "...Father insisted I give you the bucket of salmon before the morrow."
"Old Man Jacob always the one to ask without thinking, who would send a young man into this snow storm, Well it's not that I'm innocent to this," The Trader tossed the tobacco into the fire, igniting the flames for a brief moment.
Alex turned to the old man, same age as his father, "What do you mean?"
The Trader's fingers trembled while working the fireplace. He didn't turn to Alex immediately, rather, carefully observing the flame, before speaking, "You see, I would need a favour."
"Okay?"
"My eyes are old as my age, and I would retire from this job soon before the year end. Go stay with my last boy's family and enjoy my remaining years," The Trader said, blowing on the burning wood which left a cracking sound against the howling wind outside.
"So, what's the favor?" Alex asked with a raised brow. He was eager to know.
"I need you to take the fish to my wife in Town—"
Alex jumped on his feet. "Mister T, I'm so sorry, but my Father warned me not to Cross the bridge which would lead to the town," He pleaded, "I don't know if I can do what you ask."
"Young Man," The Trader finally faced him, itching on the mustache, "You're the only one I can send," He pulled up his worn-out trouser, to reveal a deep cut which was slowly healing, "I encountered some wolves days back when I went hunting, and got scratched so deep! Good Lord! The pain stung like Hell's flames.."
Alex was on the tip of an iceberg. He did see the number one proof why the Trader couldn't go on his own. "But Mister T," He tried to escape from disobedience, "I have been delivering the fishes to you for days now—"
"Son!" The Trader moved towards him, "My Wife been helping transfer the fish to the main store when the incident happened, but now she hasn't been around, I'm sure she's helping someone who's pregnant or some other business I'm sure. I stay here in this shed to collect the fishes not just from your Father, but others who come from the River. And you know since it's Winter; few fishes, and it's your father who keeps the bread on my plate with his constant fishing skills. Oh please son! If you can just do this, I won't ask again."
Alex bit his lower lip, eyes searching for an excuse. "But—"
"You know my house isn't far from the bridge, just straight ahead into town, the first house with the fallen post sign. My wife's inside and you would be back in less than few minutes, if your father comes to look for you, I'll be the one to bear the blame...."
Alex took a step back, staring at the desperate look in the trader's eyes, "Mister T, But—"
"Son, PLEASE!."
*****
'Knock. Knock. Knock~'
A slender redhead with freckles on her face opened the door. She had worn a bonnet on her head, tying the ribbon underneath. It seemed she was in a hurry.
Alex, who had knocked on the door, said, raising the bucket of fish, "Maiden, Mister T—"
"Oh, tell my mother! Don't you see I'm but in a hurry?" She excused herself, pushing through and waving down a horseman.
Alex watched for a moment, before turning to face another older redhead who shook her head as she watched her daughter leave, "In this cold, she insisted going to see that boy... Oh! I remembered when I was young—stupid and foolish, ah! Those days, I would dance in the Traven and pour wine for—"
"Ma'am, Fish is here." Alex interrupted the woman's daydream.
She looked at him and blinked in shock, "Is this Alex I'm seeing?" She took the bucket from his grip, setting it down by the side, "Your father allowed you leave the cage of a house?"
Alex faced the door, "Actually, No. I came here without his consent and I must hurry now before he finds my absence Suspicious—"
"Wait a minute there," She pulled him back, "Don't you want to get some extra coins for the hard work done?."
Alex waved down the offer, "Mrs Binet—"
The sound of commotion caused a brief second of interrupting silence in the house, followed by steady curiosity.
Alex and Binet exchanged glances before rushing out to see what exactly would be more than a simple street fight.
Ahead, torches were lit, and the cold posed no threat to the curious stares of the gathered crowds which increased by number.
Two women rushed to join the crowd, and Binet pulled on the fat one, "Celina, What's the matter?"
She spoke with rush, "They said the Prince alongside the Royal guards had caught a Beast!"
"A beast you say?" Binet joined the woman who nodded as they walked towards the crowd.
Alex did follow, he too was curious to what else would bring together the Town into a crowd.
His slim physique gave him an advantage of sort as he squeezed through the mumbling crowd to slowly hear a male commanding voice speak,
"We have been terrorized by the fear of the unknown. We've stayed in the shadows to avoid the darkness from noticing our light and swallowing us whole. But today, before your very eyes, you have seen the gods have given us authority to take back the freedom granted to us!... So, now, before all witnesses, I shall slay this..."
Alex finally came to the front line of the crowd, and his pupils dilated. Eye wide open to the sight of the massive size of a..., "Is that a..." He whispered, eyes meeting the slit pupils of the chained down beast...
"Dragon."