“Give your fears to the fire,” the old seer called to the passersby. “Give a name to your nightmares and see them consumed! Find the courage to face whatever you must!” And some of the people going by would pause, and scribble something on a scrap of paper, and toss it into the brazier while the old man smiled.

“You, sir!” he called out to one in particular. “Yes, you, traveller. Your heart looks heavy – come, put a name to your innermost demons and consign them to the flames. You’ll feel better for it, I assure you!”

“Have you taken leave of your senses, old man?” a young warrior passing by hissed. “That’s the Dragonslayer, the bravest man in the land! He’s not afraid of anything!”

The man who’d been called the Dragonslayer snorted, cuffing the youth on the shoulder as he came up to the seer’s little stall. “The graveyards are full of people who aren’t afraid of anything,” he observed, tapping the fingers of one hand atop a scrap of paper and turning a charcoal stick in the other.

“Aha.” The seer nodded slowly. “It’s a wise man who grows to your age living by the sword.”

“But,” the youth protested, “but Sir, you stood up to the Great Wyrm – ”

“Don’t speak that name,” the Dragonslayer snapped. “And yes, so I did. But anyone who isn’t afraid when there’s a great fire-breathing lizard the size of a house rushing toward him is a fool – and as your honourable elder said,” here he paused to give the seer a respectful nod, “you don’t live as long as I have, swinging a sword, if you’re a fool.”

Several of the festival-goers had drifted nearby, intrigued by the discussion. The battle-hardened warrior let out a sigh, laying the charcoal atop the paper and looking around at his audience. “If I can leave one lesson in the world,” he said, raising his voice to carry a little better, “let it be this:

“For the true warrior, fear is a useful tool. It can be a weapon to use against your enemies, but it can also protect you. Don’t try to deny your fear. You’ll just get yourself killed by something you should have damned well known better than to face.

“Instead, guide it. Train it. Shape it. Know when you can ignore it, yes – but that won’t be all the time. Sometimes, fear – especially of a thing you’ve faced plenty of times before – is your mind’s way of telling you there’s something strange going on. Sometimes it’s just telling you to duck. And for both of those, sometimes, it’ll be right.”

One young woman asked, “Are you still afraid, when you face dragons?”

The whole crowd hung on his response.

He sighed. “Every time. But I can’t let them just burn villages to the ground and steal the people away, so I hunt them down anyway. That’s bravery. Never knowing fear at all, even when you damned well should, isn’t bravery, it’s just madness.”

The charcoal skittered across the paper. Some of those nearby caught a glimpse of one word, in a strong, square hand: “fire.”

With a smirk for the irony, the Dragonslayer tipped the paper into the brazier. And as the edges began to shrivel and glow, he turned away and continued down the row.