Dragons Are Dangerous

Mulridge interrogated the boy, chilled by his flat voice and steady hands. Twenty years in police psychiatry, he’d never met so cold a child.
“You’re a knight?” Mulridge said. “Is that dragon blood on your costume?”
“I’m a knight. Knights kill dragons.”

“Did you know the dragon you killed was your brother?”
“Dragons are dangerous.”
“Did the dragon threaten you? Or attack?”
“It breathed fire. So I killed it.”
“Fire? Out his mouth?”
“The fire came out the wrong end.”
“The wrong end?”
“It lifted its tail and breathed fire at me, so I ran it through with my sword.”