In a cozy house in a small village, Eloy always looks forward to the arrival of his grandkids. Every night, around a crackling fireplace and with a mischievous smile, he starts his stories by saying, "Did you know that when I was young, I went fishing with Christopher Columbus and we accidentally discovered America? But that’s not the story I want to tell you today."
It all started when I got an unexpected invitation. A Britano-Roman leader named Artorius, famous for fighting Saxon invaders with a mix of bravery and confusing strategies, had heard rumors about my skills. Don’t ask me how, but news of my adventures travels fast, especially when they’re a bit absurd. Artorius needed urgent help at his fort in Britannia, and since I had nothing better to do, I packed my things and headed there.
When I arrived at Artorius’s castle, things were... strange. The Britano warriors were arguing about whether their armor should have stripes or checks, and no one seemed to remember where they’d left their swords. Artorius, a big man with a beard so thick you could hide your breakfast in it, greeted me with a mix of relief and desperation.
—"Eloy!" —exclaimed Artorius—. "I’m in a mess as big as an elephant and I need your help."
—"A mess?" —I asked, dodging a warrior who was tripping over his own spear—. "Have you run out of mead?"
—"Worse than that," said Artorius seriously. "A dragon has taken over the Cheese Castle!"
The Cheese Castle was a fort on top of a hill, made entirely of the stinkiest and tastiest cheeses in all of Britannia. The walls were built with blocks of aged cheddar, and the towers were topped with wheels of brie so creamy you had to be careful not to slip if you got too close. The smell was heavenly to those who loved it; to the uninitiated, it was enough to make you run away.
—"A dragon in the Cheese Castle!" —I exclaimed, unable to believe my ears—. "Is it very big?"
—"As big as my appetite after a long battle," replied Artorius. "And it has breath that smells like rotten onions. If we don’t do something soon, that monster will gobble up all the cheese and stink up the whole kingdom."
I started thinking of a plan. I knew I couldn’t face a dragon with brute force, because honestly, my strength was limited to opening tricky jars and carrying heavy cheeses. But I had something the dragon didn’t: wit, a charming smile, and a piece of camembert I always carried with me (for emergencies, of course).
I decided to face the "dragon" with what I knew best: cheese. I filled my backpack with all the cheeses I could find in Artorius’s castle (including a blue cheese so stinky it had to be wrapped in five layers of cloth) and headed for the Cheese Castle.
When I arrived, I found the so-called dragon. From a distance, there was a big shadow on the cheese tower, but as I got closer, I discovered that the "shadow" was actually a huge wrinkled tarp clumsily placed by the castle’s inhabitants. There was no dragon at all, just a pile of old cheese skins that had been stacked up and moved by the wind, creating the illusion of a monstrous creature.
Looking closer, I saw a group of villagers trying to fix damage from a recent storm. They had exaggerated the "dragon" story to explain the chaos caused by the storm and the cheese mess.
—"There’s no dragon!" —I shouted, as the villagers approached with confused looks—. "Just a tarp and some spoiled cheese. Let’s fix this!"
With the help of the villagers, we cleaned up the place and organized the cheese. It turned out that the dragon legend was just a misunderstanding made worse by word of mouth and stories that grew bigger than they really were.
I returned to Artorius’s castle with the news that the "dragon" was just a myth and that the real problem was a mix of bad weather and poorly stored cheese. Artorius welcomed me with relief, and the warriors celebrated with a feast where, of course, cheese was the main dish. The dragon legend became a funny story, and the castle went back to normal.
And so, dear grandkids, that’s the end of this story. Now, off to bed! Tomorrow I’ll tell you about how I helped Marco Polo on his trip to China, where we were chased for days because people mistook our spice supplies for gold dust. Goodnight and sweet dreams.