Deep in the Norwegian wilderness and hidden far from any Norseman, the true rulers of Scandinavia met to discuss a pressing matter. Dreki, as the Norsemen referred to them, were fearsome creatures who were at the top of the food chain. Not even the strongest and bravest men were able to slay what Englishmen called a dragon. They gathered in a great meeting hall, which was carved into the mighty Galdhøpiggen mountain. The hall consisted of one empty colossal room, with a balcony-like outcropping of stone at the far wall. This is where the king of the Dreki loomed over his subjects. 

“Silence!” boomed the deep voice of Duinal. The murmurs from the crowd quickly died out, and heads turned to the great king. His glowing red eyes and dark black scales struck fear in the hearts of any who would try to oppose him. “To my understanding, a strange item crafted by the humans has been found in a nearby fjord. I, like many of you, am dumbfounded by it. There is no need for concern, however, as I have appointed experts to give their input. Mulkinbok, you have the stage.”

The crowd’s attention was now drawn to the right of the king, where a large blood red dragon stood. His expression was truly formidable. 

“As military advisor, I suggest we burn their villages to ash! What the humans made is clearly a weapon!” The intensity of his voice resonated throughout the entire hall. “It is cast of iron, a huge weakness for us Dreki. I will not stand here and watch a puny species destroy our great empire. If we strike now, our rule will last a millennium!” The crowd roared at the conclusion of Mulkinbok’s speech. 

“Burn them!” came an unknown voice from the crowd.

“Humans shall fall!” said another. 

“Order! Order!” came the profound voice of King Duinal. The audience obeyed. “Thank you for your input Mulkinbok. It is an intriguing case. Now Kelmun, head of the Department of Human Studies, you may present your findings.”

“Yes yes, thank you King Duinal,” said a smaller than average Goldenscale Dreki. He looked puny standing to the left of his superiors who towered over him. “I’ve spent the past 458 years studying the humans of this land. I risked my life to be up close to them, studying everything from culture to anatomy. I will not let my life's work go to waste over a simple tool. Yes that’s right! A tool! What we have found is not at all a weapon. It is simply a tool to aid in the consumption of liquids. I believe the humans call it a ‘spoon’.” The audience gasped at this fact. 

“Lies!” exclaimed a dragon in the crowd.

“Traitor! You wish to see our empire fall!” screamed another. The audience erupted into chaos. King Duinal was just as surprised by this news. He did not expect to have two vastly contrasting cases. 

“The fate of my people rests in my hands,” Duinal thought to himself. “Who do I trust? If this ‘spoon’ is in fact a weapon, my empire could be in danger. To combat this I could order for the extermination of all humans, but at what cost? Since most of them work as our slaves we will lose too much production. On the other hand, if it is simply a tool then we have nothing to worry about. Oh ancestors, give me strength in my time of need!” Coming back to reality, King Duinal demanded order in his hall. The audience again obeyed, falling silent to hear their king’s next statement.

“After much consideration on both Mulkinbok and Kelmun’s statements, I have come to a conclusion. We must trust Kelmun’s expertise in his field. We will not burn their villages, as we rely on them greatly for the trade and capture of slaves, who support our production and economy. The iron tool is not a great enough threat to ruin our means of production.”

“I think you’re making a great mistake,” whispered Mulkinbok. “We mustn’t underestimate what they-” a deafening battlecry interrupted the military advisor. Every Dreki in the hall turned to the entrance, where a mighty Norseman stood. Cloaked in heavy steel armor, the soldier was holding up an iron spoon. Behind him, for as far as the eye could see, soldiers each wielding their own spoon readied themselves for war. 

“By Rahdohva’s claw…” muttered Duinal. Fire lit up the meeting hall as the two races clashed, fighting for the dominance of Scandinavia.