One cold winters' night, when the people of the quiet Midland village lay dormant in their beds, the elder draco attacked.
Men woke from their slumbers to fight the beast while women hid indoors holding children to their breast.
None could kill the giant beast who spat fire, setting the small village aflame, the wooden structures ripe to feed the flames.
As the men retreated, a lone girl stood before the beast, wielding her father's sword.
The child was but ten and three, not yet a woman, but already a warrior at heart.
The child's father had been a celebrated slayer of dracos and had taught his young daughter how to fight.
The villagers could only watch as the great black beast approached the small child, it's yellow eyes focused on her.
Right before their eyes, this child fought with the courage of an entire legion of men and the skill of a knight.
Before their eyes, the beast fell to her sword and uttered a final snarl upon its dying breath.
Never again did a draco inflict terror upon that quiet Midland village.
It is not known of the young girl's fate, whether she keeps watch over the village or left; it is not known, but everyone knows the tale of the young girl who slayed the elder dragon.
The elder dragon, king of his kind and oldest known, was no more.