"Steadfast"

[sonreir]

Dad used to say I was too flighty to take over his work.

"One look at you," he said, "and they'll know you've not got it. They'll eat you alive, my dear girl, bones and all."

He was joking as he said it, I think, referring to the fact that I never sat still for more than a few seconds. Mom joked that I didn't learn to walk, I learned to run, and that whenever she came looking for me she was likely, often as not, to find me up a tree.

"You love the outdoors," she'd say at night, helping me brush my hair, pulling out all the leaves and sticks, the bits and bobs that had gotten tangled in it during the day, which I was never patient enough to pick out by myself. "I used to love it, too."

I scowled at this, every time. Mom was boring. She did bookkeeping for a logging company. She didn't work out in the woods, actually felling trees (which might have been interesting) -- her work was all done at the office in town. Her job didn't take her outside, the way Dad's did. She wasn't constantly tired, the way that he was, but she seemed...unfulfilled, somehow. It seemed like whatever interesting was going to happen in her life had already happened, and she was just waiting quietly until it was time to retire. I loved her -- she was my mom -- but I didn't understand what made her do the things that she did.

Dad, now -- Dad was interesting.

Dad was a knight.


The kids at school made fun, sometimes. They'd tease me, tell me that my dad was no better than an exterminator.

"Hey Mel," Bobby Price might say. "My ma's got a rat problem, think your dad could take care of it?"

I learned, after a while, not to rise to the bait.

Knights were important. Knights defeated dragons, handled all the problems with melusines and gorgons, harpies and gigantic winged serpents and who knew what else. Anything that was large and magical (and some things that weren't large, but were still magical and therefore dangerous) was what he took care of. It was what his dad had done, and his dad, and his dad-- he used to brag that we could trace our lineage almost all the way back to the story of George and the Dragon.

Exterminators were who you called if you had a problem with cockroaches, or bedbugs, or something else small and nasty and utterly mundane. Things like that were below knights, and the kids at school knew it.

The problem was, there weren't many dragons anymore.


Knighthood meant being told to go to a certain place and stay there and defend it. There was a small stipend for us to live off of, and a bonus every time Dad got rid of something particularly nasty, but most of his days were spent out wandering around the woods near our house, or checking out what was going on in the local lake.

He was restless, and he brought up moving a lot, but Mom always talked him down.

"I've got a good job," she pointed out. "Melanie likes school here. We can afford to live on your stipend, here."

That was a big part of it, whether Dad wanted to admit to it or not: that we could afford to live off of his stipend and Mom's job, here, and live pretty comfortably (new clothes and shoes when I needed them; decent gifts for the midsummer celebration and birthdays; good food on the table). The places he talked about moving us -- up north, where the days were shorter and it was rumored there were vampires -- or down south, where there were various and sundry nasties -- were more remote. Schools weren't as good there. There wasn't anywhere for Mom to find work (those places were even more rural than where we lived now). The cost of living was a lot higher, too, because most of the people who went there went on vacation.

Dad didn't like the reality of it -- he wanted to think that we were still in the big heyday, the time when you could bag a dragon a week, trap them and release them somewhere outside of town, to go harry the animals in the woods and leave farmers alone -- but he acknowledged it. He grumbled a lot about wanting to move, but he never seriously looked into taking jobs outside of our small community.

He daydreamed about it a lot. I saw what he pulled up on his computer, when he thought no one was paying attention -- listings for property up north, down south. Dragon reports for those areas (not much more common than here -- they'd been pushed back, a lot, into the woods and away from people). Sightings of other sorts of monsters, the kinds of things he was used to dealing with (also more unusual). Job postings (that he never applied for). School statistics, for schools in those communities.

He never called anyone or applied to anything. He thought about it, but that was the extent of it.


I worshipped the ground my dad walked on, as a kid. I looked up to him with fear and awe. He wasn't just my dad -- he was the knight for our community! There were stories that were told about people like him, about what they did.

By the time I reached my teens, the awe had died off a bit. I recognized that most of Dad's job was boring -- that it was 90% "waiting for something to happen", 8% "dealing with paperwork when something does happen", and only 2% "out in the field, outwitting magical creatures to keep the community safe." He wasn't bored, though, and that was the difference. He liked his job. Mom didn't seem to like what she did. The adults that came into our school for career day didn't like what they did. Dad was the only one who didn't seem bored.

"Get a good job," everyone said, but they didn't quite explain why. I had a vague concept of bills to be paid and things to do, but all of it seemed far away.

"I want to be happy," I told Mom, when the topic came up. "I think I want to follow in Dad's footsteps."

She was cooking dinner, standing at the stove stirring a pot of tomato sauce. When I said this, she froze.

"Well," she said, carefully placing the spoon on its spoonrest. "It is a family job. There aren't a lot of opportunities though, you know..."

"Dragons are coming back," I said quickly. "They said so on the news."

"In certain places," Mom admitted. "Though -- Mel..."

I waited for what I knew she was going to say next.

"It's not fun," she said. "It's hard, dirty work, and it's dangerous. You have to be a certain kind of person, to enjoy it."

"I watch what Dad does," I said. "I like going around the woods, rowing on the lake. I spend all my free time out there. You can't talk me out of this."

"I'm not trying to," said Mom. "I'm just not sure that you've got a clear picture of what it is your father does."

I shrugged. "I've gone out on a few days with him."

Mom picked up the spoon again, turned away from me and resumed carefully stirring her sauce. "I don't think you have a clear picture of what the financials are," she said, after a moment. "How much easier it would be if your dad had picked anything else."

"I don't care about money," I said stubbornly. "I just -- I don't want to be bored." Like every other adult I know, I thought.

"There's worse things than boredom." Mom's tone was grim. "Keep that in mind, will you?"



When I told Dad I wanted to become a knight, like him -- that's when he told me I was too flighty.

"You've got to learn to slow down," he said, "or you'll get eaten."

"I can learn that," I promised, too quickly. "I can be slow."

He laughed, a little, at how fast I answered. "That's what I'm talking about," he said. "You're hasty. You need to quiet down a bit, Mel. Relax."

He teased me about getting eaten, but when he saw I was serious, he started taking me out with him, whenever he went into the woods on the weekends.

I helped him monitor the woods and streams, the nearby lake, for anything untoward. I learned to do the paperwork that he resented.

After I turned sixteen, I officially became his apprentice.


I was nineteen the first time I helped with a dragon. There was one menacing the town nearby, eating its goats and occasionally breathing fire at the kids that came too close to its lair (an old stone barn out on the edge of the woods, long since abandoned).

"Ready?" asked Dad, strapping on his gear and loading the back of the pickup.

"Ready," I said, tucking my hair underneath a fireproofed hood.

He wasn't nervous -- he'd been doing this for years, and this was a small one -- but I was.

"Something on your mind?" asked Dad.

"No," I said, swinging up into the cab. "Shall we?"

I buckled up, and he put the truck in gear. He talked to me a bit, as we drove to the site, reminding me that it wasn't the end of the world if I panicked, he'd panicked when he saw his first dragon, there was nothing quite like going from the pictures and videos of how to handle one to trying to capture it on your own...

I didn't say much, on the ride over. I focused on my breathing, practiced the mindfulness exercises that Mom had always pushed on me, and tamped down my own anxiety.

"There," I said, as we got close to the barn. "That must be it." There was smoke curling out lazily from the holes in the barn roof.

"Mm," said Dad. "Looks like."

He got the tranq kit out of the back, while I prepared the trusses. The idea was, he'd do the dirty work of actually drugging it, and I'd be the one to tie it up and get it loaded into the back of the truck, where we'd drive it off one of the old logging roads and dump it in the middle of the woods, near one of the salt licks that we'd set up earlier in the week to lure deer, when the news of the dragon first broke. There was an old stone house nearby and plenty of deer. The idea was, it was far enough away from human beings that it wouldn't harass us anymore.

Knights had a reputation for slaying dragons, but that wasn't really what we did. Maybe back in the old days, but since at least the 1800s, 'slaying' has involved a lot of "throwing a sack over its head, tying its jaw shut, and hauling it off somewhere it can't hurt anyone". Dragons are hard to kill -- they're more liable to kill you than you are them -- and the things you have to do to actually pierce their hides are better left unsaid. Despite Dad's jokes to the contrary, too, they mostly prefer not to eat us. We're too bony, I guess. Why eat a human being (who will probably fight and scream and lead to you being attacked by other humans) when there are goats and sheep and cattle, or, in desperate times, chickens? I'd never heard of an attack on a human by a dragon that hadn't been provoked. That factored into things, too. It was easier, on the whole, to truss it up and dump it twenty miles away than it was to try and kill it. With the invention of modern tranquilizers, it became a one-man job, perhaps two at most, depending on the size of the dragon. Dad didn't really need my help, but I was his apprentice, and it was a learning experience. So, we went.

Dad went into the barn first, and I followed behind him. The dragon -- a female, from its brilliant green coloring -- breathed fire at both of us, but soon gave up the ghost as soon as it realized that neither of us was going to quaver and run away.

She got me, with one of her blasts. I'm not sure which of us was more surprised -- me, or her. It didn't hurt (the fireproofing on my suit more than took care of that), but there was a lot of power behind it. I staggered, but I stayed upright.

"To the right!" Dad hissed, and I stepped aside just in time to miss another blast of fire. The stones behind me were blackened.

She didn't breathe anymore fire after that. Dad got up behind her with the tranquilizer (he preferred to do it by hand, run in when they were confused and stick them in one of their soft spots, instead of trying to aim and fire -- he'd never been a good shot). He jabbed her in the soft joint between her neck and shoulder, and she went limp.

I trussed her, feeling vaguely guilty as I did it, and Dad congratulated me, when I was finished, on a job well done.

"You didn't run," he said.

"I didn't figure I was supposed to," I replied, surprised. "The fire can't hurt us, can it?"

"No," said Dad, rolling the drugged dragon onto the sling he used for carrying them. "But that didn't stop me, the first time one came at me. Your grandpa couldn't stop laughing long enough to tranq him."

I laughed a little, at the thought of Dad running from anything, and we carried her to the truck and took her into the woods.


I got my first independent posting when I was 21. There was a space down south that needed my help -- an independent agricultural community that had suffered from four dragon attacks in the last six months.

"They're coming back," said the woman on the phone, when she offered me the posting. "We know you've just finished training, but there's a shortage of qualified knights..."

I'd just gotten my license.

"It's fine," I said. "Tell me where to report and when."

She gave me the name of the town -- somewhere small I'd never heard of before and could not locate on a map -- and said to report in two weeks' time.

"There's temporary housing," she said. "You'll want to find something more permanent, but there is somewhere to stay."

I told Mom I was going, half-expecting she would try to talk me out of it, but it was Dad who said something instead.

"Are you sure this is what you want to do?" he asked. "Can you really go it alone?"

"I passed all my tests," I said, irritated. "I did everything I was supposed to. I've gotten good at this. What would you have me do?"

We were out in the woods, setting up another salt lick (keeping our options open, since there had been more dragon-sightings in the area, and there was a chance it would be needed). He dropped the block and turned to face me.

"I'd have you find another field," he said simply. "You can't do this alone."

I thought he meant being a knight, and I said as much. "I can do this just as well as you can, by now!"

"I meant the finances, Mel," he said. He hesitated. "Your mom...you don't understand what she gave up to let me do this. She doesn't love that job. She keeps it so that we can keep a roof over our heads. We'd never afford the house without it."

I tilted my head back, looked up at the tree canopy. It was early fall, and the leaves were starting to turn. The oak above me was tinged with yellow. I wondered how to put what it was I had to say, how to explain what I already knew, what I had accepted both about myself and the field I'd chosen. "I know, Dad."

"You don't," he said grimly. "You think you do, but..."

"They told me the salary over the phone," I snapped. "I know how much it is, I know it's barely enough to make rent in a town this size, let alone where I'm going, I know it's going to be hard and that the dragon bonuses don't cover everything -- I know!"

"Then why are you doing it?" he asked me, genuinely surprised.

"Because I love it," I told him. "Because there's nothing else I'd rather be doing."

He kicked at an acorn with his heavy workboots. "Shit."

"I'm going to do it anyway. I'm an adult; if I have to come back home with my tail between my legs, fine. But I'm going to do it."

"I never thought you weren't," said Dad. "Just..."

"Yeah?"

"Keep a backup plan, Mel," he said. "Keep an open mind."


I went south, and when that posting ended, I got another one, up north.

Mom called, every other day at first, and then once a week. Dad spoke on the phone when he was in, which wasn't often.

I learned what they'd been talking about, when they'd spoken of choices and finances and what we could or couldn't afford to do.

I learned other things, too, like how to take care of a melusine without hurting either her or myself, how to dispose of vampires, how to do the parts of my job that Dad had never gotten good at.

I hoarded my little bonuses, what I got every time I managed to successfully relocate something, and I lived off of those during the lean months of winter, when everyone and everything withdrew from the world, or so it seemed.

I learned to survive on my own. I leaned into it, the uncertainty of what I did, and embraced it.

I love what I do, and I have never been bored.


Someday I will meet and marry someone. Someday I'll have a family of my own.

I wonder, sometimes, if that will mean giving up knighthood, if I'll go back and take the classes for magical animal husbandry or forestry, settle into a career that keeps me outdoors all day but doesn't have the uncertainty of what I do.

I do not think it will.


~*~

steadfast: loyal, faithful, committed.

Comments

[murielle]

I was utterly captivated! You had me at the idea of a dragon exterminator! Brilliant idea! Brilliant use of the prompt! Brilliantly told--a modern Knights tale!

Brava!

[sonreir]

Thank you very much! :)

[fausts_dream]

I love when someone takes a tired trope and turns it on it's head. Well done.

[sonreir]

Thanks! :)

[static_abyss]

I love your writing. You have a way with words that captures my attention every time. Almost matter-of-fact. Like, you're telling me to sit down and listen to this story about this dragon you ran into the other days. I love that.

[sonreir]

Haha, well, thank you! I worry at times that it's a little too dry, so I'm glad it works for you! :)

[halfshellvenus]

At first, I expected the father to be a forester. Then I wondered what a knight might mean in modern times, and how awesome that it meant the same thing as always. The fun of the phrase "bag a dragon," the idea of going out in a pickup truck to deal with dragons, and other kids mocking the profession as being an 'exterminator'-- all so very awesome. :D

[sonreir]

Thank you! I had this whole, what if idea in my head and decided to run with it...I based a lot of the details on the friends I've had over the years who do logging or work for the Forest Service up in Washington. I'm glad you enjoyed it!

[the_eternal_overthinker]

I took it initially to be a case of over imaginative kid , but I found it enchanting and super cool as a read. I like the idea and concept and it was well executed. A Good read!Kudos!

[sonreir]

Thank you! :)

[rayaso]

I loved this from beginning to end! The details were wonderful, like knight licensing, and the finances of being a modern knight. This was so imaginative!

[sonreir]

Thanks! :) I started with the idea of, "what if dragons were real and as annoying as bears" and ran with it!

[bsgsix]

Ahh, this is so clever and imaginative! Very cool! I enjoyed reading this a great deal. :)

[sonreir]

Thank you! :D

[wolfden]

I loved this. This is so well done and I would like to read more.

[sonreir]

Thanks! That's always high praise. :)

[onecheapdate]

I look forward to your entries every week and this one included one of my absolute favorite mythical beasts - dragons! I also love anything high fantasy soooo this is a win in my book. You have such a way of creating lush, interesting worlds and I always want to read more about them. I'm reminded of your piece about the book-loving character who stayed with their grandmother while their parents did work on another planet - you manage to take familiar, normal characters and families that the reader can closely identify with and then place them into such rich, unique, fantastical environments. It's such an interesting dynamic - the mixing of something the reader knows with something completely new. I love it! So good!

[sonreir]

Thank you! Urban fantasy (or, well, not-urban-but-still-near-our-world?) is a favorite of mine...I like mixing the fantastic with the real and seeing what comes out. Sometimes it works well, and sometimes it doesn't. I'm glad this one worked for you, and thank you for the kind words! <3

[bellatrixe]

DRAGONS!! 8D anything with those is a win for me to be honest, hee.
I absolutely loved this though; your use of the prompt and the execution of it is fabulous <3

[sonreir]

I feel similarly, hence writing about them this week! :)

Thank you!

[alycewilson]

Entertaining! I like the idea of dragon management.

[sonreir]

Thank you! I tried to think of them the same way certain friends in the Forest Service think of bears. :)

[moretta]

My gosh, this is wonderful. The world you e built is just that bit removed from our own, but so alive. And Mel is someone I would like to meet.
Beautifully done!

[sonreir]

Thank you! :D

[flipflop_diva]

This is such a great story — I couldn't stop reading! I love the characterizations of all three of them, and it makes me wonder what happens to Mel when she gets older and does want to start a family, if she will perhaps appreciate what her mother gave up for her more than she does now.

[sonreir]

I actually thought about including it -- I have some thoughts about what might or mightn't happen (because how can you be comfortable asking someone to sacrifice their happiness so you can follow your dream!), but it was long enough as it was, so, you know.

Needless to say, yes, she does eventually end up realizing what her mother gave up, and she's suddenly able to relate to her that much better.

Thanks for reading and taking the time to comment!

[kehlen.livejournal.com]

Wow. Such a refreshing take on knights and dragons :)

[sonreir]

Thanks! I wanted to do something new and, well, weird. :) Glad it worked for you!