YCH from the talented  BigGoodWolf!

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"That horn is very distinctive," the woman said. "However did it happen?"
The woman, a dark-skinned human, was dressed in all the finery appropriate for a...princess, Arix wanted to guess. She seemed too young to be a queen, at least from what Arix could tell of humans. Her hair was still full of colour, untouched by the greys of advancing age, and her skin had not yet started to wrinkle. A lord's wife? Or a duchess? The titles all blended together, anyway. She watched the dragon with keen interest, though whether it was true interest or a mere façade practiced countless times for visiting dignitaries and the like, he couldn't say.
"It, uh, a yeti, I think," Arix said, his eyes flicking around the room. His claw idly circled around the rim of his goblet, the rich wine still untouched.
"A yeti?" the woman responded, drawing back in shock. "You have been to the northern tundras, then? However did you encounter a yeti?"
"I was young. Didn't know what I was doing, really."
"Ah, yes, you must be the one Lord Vissard was raving about!" She smiled and settled comfortably forward again. "Ordragc, right? The warrior."
"Yeah. Um, yes. Arix." He took the goblet from the table, looking deep into it as though it alone had the power to transport him far from here. "Um, Your...Majesty?"
The woman hid her smile behind a hand and chuckled. The wrong title. Of course it was the wrong one. He already knew he was out of place here, may as well make sure everyone else knew he had no idea what he was doing. He looked up to the roof high above, decorated with a vivid painting of the Divine Serpent encircling the world. The snake's visage stared back down at him, piercing into him. The patron deity of wisdom and secrets. Nothing could be hidden from him. No matter how Arix may have acted, the Serpent knew who he was. The Serpent knew he didn't belong.

"It does make you look rather distinguished, I must say," the woman went on. "That horn, I mean. All the warriors I've ever known have a tendency to wear such scars as badges. Oh, not at all like the knights of the palaces. I've always thought, if you don't see a dent in their armour, they are no good."
Arix tore his gaze from the judgemental eye of the Serpent to look back to the woman. She knew. So often had the nobility tried to convince him to stay with them, enjoy the benefits of knighthood. Exchange the free road for a cramped lodge. The way the woman leaned back and spoke with distaste of such fellows. She knew. Arix gripped his goblet tighter. Someone must have told her how he felt about such matters. She was trying to butter him up. Not another one.
He looked back into the wine. "Yeah."

---

"Quite a scar you have there!" the man said. "Must have been quite the brute to be able to rip that horn off, eh?"
A wolfling, red-furred and strong-armed, took his place next to Arix. He had a nick in his ear, though otherwise there were no blemishes marring his hide. As soon as he had approached, he had introduced himself as Sir Malcom of Athonia, Repeller of the Khurn Horde, Champion of the Viande Field, and about two dozen other titles Arix had long since forgotten.
"It was a yeti," Arix said. "Big thing. In the tundra."
"Ah, yetis! Wish I could have a go at them. Can't leave the castle undefended though, eh?" The wolf tore a strip of meat off the roast leg he was holding. "Queen's counting on me, you know."
"To do what?"
"You know. Keep the young royals in check. Keep the gates guarded..."
"Guarded from what?"
"Enemies!" The wolf shook the bone at Arix. "All sorts want to seize the throne, you know. I was specifically chosen to defend the gates, you know! After all, my father was the king's own personal guard, and his mother struck down that fiendish King...whoever it was. He wanted our crown himself, but she took him down with one strike! Greatness runs in the blood, you know." He laughed and nudged at Arix's side. "Not that I need to tell you. Must come from a long line of great dragons yourself, right?"

---

When Arix had finally broken free from the noise of the hall and was out the door, he didn't look back. Exhausted though he was, he hurried on down the path and back into the town below. The moon was high, stars spread across the sky. He didn't want to look at them. He had spent the whol evening being judged by the Serpent. If the Divine Beast was watching him still, he didn't want to know. He passed by the inn nearest the path that led to the grand hall. After this evening, he could scarecly stomach the thought of spending more time enclosed in walls. He continued further down the path, chancing one glance at the moon. There was still time.

The path widened, and the buildings of the town began to grow sparse, giving way to the talle trees of the wilderness. He picked up speed. Yes, there, between the trees, a faint orange glow.
He approached the campfire, and the one already there turned to see him. A raccoon sat by the fire, dressed in a simple tunic and cape. A wide-brimmed hat topped with a single feather lay by his side, a miniature handheld harp rested upon his lap.
"How was it?" the raccoon asked.
"Torture," Arix said, taking his place beside the fire, opposite the raccoon. "They kept talking to me, but I knew it was just politeness. Could feel their eyes on me the whole night, but still felt invisible. Don't let me go there again, Jack."

Jack chuckled quietly and picked up the harp. He idly begun to pluck at the strings. Arix closed his eyes and smiled as the soft notes echoed through the night. He leaned back and relaxed in the warm glow of the fire.
"Arix? Tell me again how you broke your horn."
The dragon opened his eyes and watched the night sky with a smile. "A long journey into the frozen tundra, it was..."