When Umbravor flew over the abandoned fortress, he couldn’t believe such prime real estate had been empty. Once more, he thought how foolish humans were, letting such a fortress to rot like that.

“A little scrubbing here and there should do.”

Not only the place had been built on the intersection of no less than four Leylines (An astonishing find, if I could say so), but had an incredible view and enough space for all his books. Once you live past a thousand summers, you end up with quite a few of those.

Among other things, of course.

And so, there he was, admiring the former throne room, filled with rubble all over. The once might chair reduced to a rotten mess of wood. No matter, I shall rebuild it all anew.

And so, he began working on it, resolute to employ neither magic nor his own draconic form. For what fun would it be to do as such, when you have all the time in the world? Days went by, an ever-increasing pile of stone accumulating on the courtyard. The wood couldn’t be saved, a waste in his mind, but they could serve as timber, perhaps. He would later reshape the stones into statues or something else, Umbravor thought.

One day, once he had cleaned the entirety of the throne room, the massive doors opened. “Oh, a visitor already!”

There, on the space beneath the arching portal, stood a figure clad in shining armor. Human, if Umbravor could trust his nose while in his humanoid form. Every piece of gear pulsed with the energies of ancient enchantments, weaving around them in a symphony only known to a select few. The figure took out his sword and then pointed it at the dragon.

“Foul creature, I have come to end your reign of terror!”

Just to make sure, the dragon looked around to check if anyone else could be seen. There had been none but himself.

“Wait, are you talking to me?”

“What other disgusting monstrosity is there, but you?” The man uttered with a booming voice.

Umbravor blinked twice before sighing. “Pardon me, but I have just taken these ruins as refuge. That can hardly count as a reign, wouldn’t you agree?”

“The last time we allowed a dragon to remain within these walls, decades of horrendous tyranny followed!” The knight opened his arms wide, showing the room. “The mighty kingdom of Wyrmfell has sent me, Sir Cedric the Bold, the strongest of heroes, to slay thy vile being!”

"Damn, what a cliched name. Almost like the founder just looked up a cool sounding name in a book somewhere." Umbravar leaned on the former stone throne, the last remaining piece left to move out. “Also, why are you shouting so much? We are just ten feet away from one another.”

“Now, creature of the Hells, prepare thyself!”

Sword glowing in the light of Heavens, the man called Cedric advanced, weapon held above his head as his scream followed him. With a sigh, Umbravor tapped onto the energies surrounding him, conjuring a complex sigil in front of his hand. Faster than the eye could see, a beam of pure eldritch power shoots out from it, hitting the man square in the chest.

Metal clanking against the stone beneath. These were the only things remaining of the knight named Cedric. Stretching his arms, Umbravor pondered on what to do with the magical items. Oh, I could make a mannequin and use it as decoration!

And so begins the days where the Elder Dragon just wants to chill.