He had never been good at horse riding. Which was unfortunate for a knight. Sir Aldren's horse sensed every hesitation and delighted in demonstrating it. The dragon, meanwhile, was magnificent. "You don't look disappointed," the dragon observed as Aldren climbed awkwardly from the saddle after falling for the third time. "I expected someone trying to kill me." "I retired." The dragon stretched lazily. "I've become a translator." "A translator?" "Kingdoms argue because they think they're speaking the same language." The dragon explained that humans, dwarves, and sea folk all used identical words for entirely different ideas. Peace treaties failed because nobody realised "gift," "debt," and "promise" shared the same sound. "Will you help me?" Aldren asked. "No." "Why not?" "Because heroes always want monsters." Aldren removed his sword belt and dropped it into the grass. "I don't." So they spent the summer compiling dictionaries instead of battle plans. When autumn came, the sea folk invited the neighbouring kingdoms to negotiate. No armies marched. No dragons burned castles. Only interpreters stood between leaders. Aldren returned home celebrated as the knight who had defeated the dragon. He never corrected anyone. Some victories were easier to explain than others. By the time the boat returned, everyone on shore had learned a new language.