About a year after that, Admiral Gremmorn himself vanished from the Kingdom of Ristill. Two of the space vehicles were also discovered to be missing, so it was assumed that he had journeyed into space, possibly accompanied by some of his troops. The two suspected of accompanying the Admiral were Lieutenant Noy and Ensign Yerris, both of whom had disappeared at approximately the same time as Admiral Gremmorn. After the mysterious disappearance, Admiral Sarkman, who had been Gremmorn’s second-in-command, was promoted to the position of head of the Royal Navy. Now, Sarkman was somewhat of a dreamer, and also a dabbler in science. He brought forth a theory proposed by many others throughout history, namely, that there was life on other worlds. His idea was that the Ristillians could develop a space program, which could then discover these other worlds, and set up a system of trade with alien peoples. His only problem was to get the King to agree to finance this program.
"So, you think I should invest money from the Royal Treasury in this so-called ‘space program’?" questioned King Ristius, when the Admiral made his proposition to the monarch.
"Certainly. It could turn out to be very profitable for your country," replied Admiral Sarkman.
"And it could turn out to be a waste of money! What proof do you have that there is life on other worlds?"
"Well, why wouldn’t there be? Why should our world be the only one with life?"
"Why shouldn’t it be? Besides, even if there is life on other planets, they might not have anything we want. Look at Agramnia. That’s a large, settled country, but they don’t have anything that any other country might want. That’s why they’re so poor."
"But that’s only one country. I’m talking about whole new worlds here."
"The fact still remains that you don’t know what these new worlds would be like. I’m sorry, Admiral, but I can’t risk the nation’s finances on a program that might turn out to be completely useless."
Sarkman was angered by the King’s refusal, but he knew better than to continue arguing with the ruler. Besides, anger was not going to help with anything. If the King was not going to invest his money in the space program, the Admiral would simply look for private investors.
It turned out that there were actually many Ristillians who were willing to invest in a project as risky as possible trade with beings that might not actually exist. The problem was that none of these investors had very much money. None of the richer Ristillians, who had made their money through more traditional means, such as inheriting it from their parents and owning mines, thought that the Admiral’s plan was any good. Sarkman had to run many fund-raisers throughout the country before he had anywhere near enough money to finance his pet project. Finally, however, he had raised sufficient funds to build a ship that could withstand space travel. There were still some problems to work out, however. For instance, Admiral Sarkman was well aware that no one could breathe in space. A sorceror had already worked out one possible solution to this problem: a suit that could provide air to the wearer. This type of suit was what Ranla and Gremmorn had worn. The problem with such a suit was that it did not allow the passengers of a spaceship to communicate with each other. In fact, communication was a problem in another respect, as well. Space travellers would need a way to talk to the people back in Ristill. A lack of such a method was, thought Sarkman, one of the main reasons why Ranla and Gremmorn had become lost. The sorceror who had designed the suits was hard at work on solving these problems, but feasible solutions still seemed to be a long way off.
One day, when the sorceror was involved in communication experiments, and Admiral Sarkman was busy reviewing his troops, a ship bearing three strangers arrived at a major Ristillian port. One of these strangers was a rather tall, slender young woman with blue eyes. She wore a tattered dress and sandals, and her long, light brown hair, which looked as if it had not been washed or brushed in over a month, was drawn back into an awkward ponytail. She looked like she had been through some major hassles as of late. Her two companions were metallic-horned bulls, who lay asleep on the deck of the ship. As the ship drew near to the dock, the young woman awakened the two bulls, who shot fire from their mouths as they rose to standing positions.
"Hey! Watch it! You could have hurt someone!" yelled a man who was walking along the deck.
"Sorry! I did warn the captain that Torcher and Scorcher are high-risk passengers. I had to pay quite a bit extra for him to allow them on, but I wouldn’t have left them behind."
"Why not?"
"Because they’re my travelling companions, and my friends."
"She’s right, you know," stated one of the bulls.
"Thanks for taking us with you, Myrena," added the other bull.
"You’re welcome. And thank you again for saving me from those ice fishermen," said the lady, whose name was indeed Myrena.
"That wasn’t any trouble. Breathing fire is what we do."
"And fire melts ice," announced the other animal, who would have his say, even if it was something incredibly obvious.
"Well, hopefully this country will be a nice place to spend some time. What’s it called again?"
"Ristill," replied the captain, who was on his way past Myrena and the bulls. "It’s a nice country. It was just founded about twenty years ago, but it’s growing very quickly. There’s even been some talk of their launching ships into outer space."
"I’m not sure the gods will like that," declared one bull.
"Reminds me of the story of Icarus," stated the other.
"He was the one who flew too close to the Sun, right?"
"Yes, that he did. Well, that’s what the legend says, anyway. If what they told us back in Varavrindan is right, then the Sun is ninety-three million miles away, and no one could possibly fly too close to it. Still, the fact remains that man was not meant to fly."
"Or bulls, either. Ever seen a flying bull?"
"I’ve heard that they’ve bred some flying bulls over in North Varavrindan," stated a man who was walking toward the side of the ship. "They don’t have any fire-breathing ones, though, so I wouldn’t talk if I were you."
It only took a few more minutes for the ship to dock. The passengers hurried off the boat, and into the port town, which was known as Sharastia. Myrena led the bulls along the main street, as she searched for a place to spend the night. Unfortunately, she had very little money left, and most of the inns did not seem to have stables. Just as Myrena was preparing to try the eighteenth inn on the main street, sirens began sounding, and people began panicking.
"What’s going on?" asked Myrena, as she grabbed a man with a briefcase.
"It’s an air raid! Probably a dragon! Get underground!" shouted the man, in a breathless, excited manner.
"Oh, I’m not afraid of dragons," said Myrena calmly.
"But-but they have flaming breath, and long, sharp claws, and, oh--Aaaah!" screamed the man, as he ran toward a shelter.
About ten minutes later, a green dragon swooped down toward the town. It opened its mouth to breathe flames upon the deserted buildings, but, strangely enough, stopped at Myrena’s command. It then flew down to see the woman who was facing it without fear.
"Shouldn’t you be underground, little girl?" asked the flying reptile.
"Why? You don’t frighten me. You’re not even much of a dragon."
"What do you mean, I’m not much of a dragon? I do everything that a dragon is supposed to do. I fly, I breathe fire--"
"But you’re not really very big," interrupted the young lady. "You can’t be more than fifteen feet long, and you’re incredibly thin. Back in the last country I visited, there were dragons that must have been three times your size."
"Well, I’m pretty darned impressive to the people around here, I’ll have you know! They run in terror at my very approach!"
"So I see. I’m not from around here, though, and I’ve faced much greater dangers than miniature dragons."
"Look, I’ll have you know I’m here on a mission. The King of Zurgoria sent me here to burn this town, as an example to the King of Ristill."
"Well, would you mind not burning it?"
"And why should I listen to you?"
"Because it would be a nice thing to do."
"Well, if it would be a nice thing to do--No! I must fulfill my mission!"
"Forget your mission," advised the woman, in a calm, soothing voice. "Just return home, and don’t bother the poor people of this town."
"I suppose you’re right--No! I can’t! The King ordered me to...Too many conflicting thoughts...Can’t decide! Help!"
"Just fly back home, and try to sort out your thoughts. And please don’t come back here again."
"Yes, I suppose that would be best," said the dragon, as it flew back in the direction from which it had come.
As the dragon was leaving, a man in a full suit of armor emerged from a nearby shelter. He had been the one appointed to see what was happening with the dragon. It was not a job that he particularly liked, but he had been forced into that position after committing tax evasion. He was amazed to see that the dragon was leaving, and Myrena was calmly standing out on the main street.
"How much damage did it do?" asked the man.
"None," replied Myrena. "I talked to it for a while, and it left."
"You’re kidding."
"No, I think you’ll find that the town is still in the same condition in which you left it before panicking."
"But how did you do that?"
"Oh, I just used a little bit of mind control. Not too difficult, considering that the dragon was basically just an unintelligent grunt. I’m not really experienced, and a smarter creature probably would have managed to overcome my control."
"Are you some kind of sorceress?"
"I’m a witch, actually. Well, I’m trying to be a witch, anyway. I’m not really all that good yet."
"You know, maybe you should think about making a trip to the capital. I hear they’re looking for a magic-worker to help out their main sorceror. Something to do with a space program or something."