11 : Butt-kicking Squire May 2026

"You... you kicked it?" Roderick asked, his fork hovering mid-air.

Roderick sighed, finally dropping the mutton. "I suppose I should update the scrolls. 'The Squire of the Swift Foot' has a certain ring to it." 11 : Butt-Kicking Squire

The Hall fell silent. The knights exchanged looks of bewilderment. "I suppose I should update the scrolls

Barnaby shrugged, adjusting a leather greave that had seen better days. "Didn't need it, sir. Turns out, if you kick a dragon hard enough in the soft spot right behind the left haunch, it loses all interest in pillaging and develops a very sudden interest in finding an ice pack." Barnaby shrugged, adjusting a leather greave that had

"Sir Roderick!" Barnaby shouted, his voice echoing off the tapestries. "The Dragon of Oakhaven has been dealt with."

The heavy oak doors of the Great Hall didn't just open; they groaned under the weight of destiny—or perhaps just the sheer force of Barnaby’s oversized boots.

"Thrice, sir. Once for the stolen sheep, once for the burnt haystack, and a third time because he had a very punchable—well, kickable—expression." Barnaby leaned against a pillar, looking remarkably un-singed. "He’s currently relocating to the Southern Isles. He said the 'vibe' here was becoming too hostile toward giant lizards."