[ WP ] Due to a misunderstanding the hero arrives at the tower , defeats the princess , and marries the dragon .

`` Your Highness. Murresh DeHobo has returned from his mission and he, ah, wishes to see you.'' 
 
 King Tyre Rahnt looked up from his breakfast. Steward Planner had served him for years, ever since King Rahnt had the previous steward, the mage Beet Rayor, executed for treason against the crown. Planner was stalwart in his service and unflinching in his duties, and had never before balked at delivering any news to the king, good or bad. And yet here, delivering what should be happy news, Planner was stuttering over his words as if he feared for his own life. 
 
 `` Day, my old friend.'' Rahnt eyed the steward with concern. `` What is the matter? Send him in.'' 
 
 `` He, ah,'' Planner wiped sweat from his forehead, despite the unseasonable chill. `` He wishes to meet you in the court yard. Sire.'' 
 
 Rahnt's eyes narrowed. `` And who does he think he is, to set the place of our meeting?'' 
 
 `` I fear it is required, Sire.'' 
 
 King Rahnt dropped his spoon into his bowl, splattering milk and Old Time-y Oat Flakes onto the tablecloth. He heaved himself from his chair, strong arms pushing on the table to lift his bulk. He was a large man, larger than any other, and it was all muscle. Rahnt was not a man to be taken lightly. 
 
 `` Very well,'' Rahnt said. `` Bring my sword, and lead the way.'' 
 
 Planner rushed to retrieve the king's sword from its resting place near the throne at the back of the room. King Rahnt could have turned and reached it himself from where he'd been seated eating breakfast, but no king does what he can get others to do for him. With a heavy grunt and other noises besides, Planner lifted the sword in both arms. He turned to Rahnt and knelt, doing his best to not let the weight of the weapon - as tall as Planner himself was, nearly as thick from edge to edge, and easily weight as much as the old clerk - pull him forward and onto his face. Rahnt took the sword and set it on his shoulder with no more effort than he might have used to do the same with his cereal spoon. Planner scrambled to his feet and hurried before the king, opening doors and announcing his passing through the labyrinthine halls of Palace Sosh'al Comehntery. 
 
 When at last the king and his steward arrived in the palace courtyard, the king nearly dropped his sword himself. He was dumbfounded, unable to make sense of what he was seeing. There, flanked by a row of a dozen palace guards and royal knights on either side, stood an adventurer. Rahnt recognized him as DeHobo. Slung over DeHobo's shoulder was a sack, clearly containing a body, and dripping blood over the black and red and thoroughly evil cobblestones. In his hand, DeHobo held a length of chain, and on the other end of that chain was a deeply humbled and very alive dragon. 
 
 `` Murresh,'' the king spoke as loudly as he could through clenched teeth. 
 
 `` It it please you, my lord, please call me Mur. Mur DeHobo, adventurer for hire.'' 
 
 `` I know who you are, DeHobo!'' King Rahnt was furious. `` What is the meaning of this? You bring a dragon here? And where is Damsil? Where is my daughter?'' 
 
 `` Sire? According to the information I was given, I was supposed to bring the dragon here.'' Confusion passed over DeHobo's face. 
 
 `` Why would I want you to bring a dragon *here? *'' Rahnt thrust a thick finger at the dragon, which barely acknowledged him or anything else. `` You were meant to kill the dragon, and bring back my daughter.'' 
 
 DeHobo cocked his head to one side, thinking. For a moment, he did look appropriately afraid. But then his eyes widened in realization. He dropped the bloody sack to stone, where it landed with a wet crunch. The princess's crown fell out of the sack, rolling in tighter and tighter circles until it clattered to stillness. All the while, DeHobo was digging through his pouches and pockets. Rahnt was just about to order DeHobo executed on the spot when DeHobo gave a shout. 
 
 `` Ah, here it is!'' DeHobo produced a palm-sized scroll case from a pocket. Rahnt recognized it. It was the sort the Adventurer's League handed out to adventurers who had taken a job, and contained notes regarding the specifics of the job. Not the full description, just a brief summary penned when the job was accepted, intended to finalize terms and ascertain compensation once the job was done. 
 
 DeHobo opened the case and pulled out the scroll. He read aloud to himself, skipping over some of it. `` Dragon, princess... North along Dee'Em'Rayl Road... Stock Map Tower... Ah! Yeah!'' DeHobo turned the scroll towards the king and thrust a finger at the next point on the list. `` Slay Damsil, return with Dismal.'' 
 
 Rahnt's eyes went wide. `` Why would I want you to slay Damsil and return with Dismal? Dismal is the dragon, you dolt!'' Rahnt fetched a kick at the dragon, but the dragon gave no indication it noticed. `` Damsil is my daughter!'' 
 
 DeHobo considered this for a moment. `` That does make more sense. Must have been a mix-up at the League office. You'll want to have words with the clerk. I think his name is Dys? Dys Lexia, that sounds right.'' 
 
 Rahnt could n't find words through his anger. He turned and pointed at his sword, his eyes on Steward Planner. Planner took a moment to catch on, but then set to hauling the king's sword to the king. 
 
 DeHobo seemed unconcerned. He spoke to Rahnt's back. `` So, hey, listen? Does this mean I do n't have to marry the dragon after all? Because it says here I have to marry Dismal, and I'd rather just have gold.'' 
 
 Dismal took notice of that. Hurt and insulted, she stripped the chain off her neck and rose up to full height. The assembled soldiers did n't have time to react to this first sign of life she'd shown since she arrived. She burned them all to death with a gout of dragonflame, next turning it on the king and steward. She looked at DeHobo with sadness for a moment before burning him as well, and then took the air, a single tear sliding down her scaled cheek. 
 
 She'd been quite excited about being a bride. 
 

