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TJByrum -> Isle of Dracos (2/24/2014 13:58:39)

Isle of Dracos


Just don't look back! Just don't look back!

The young girl darted through the forest, hopping over roots and ducking beneath branches. The woods were thick and she knew them well, but it was fall and the absence of leaves made it easy to see her through the tangled limbs. The rapid 'dop-dop-dop-dop' of her footsteps sent squirrels and rabbits alike scurrying away through the forest. Behind her she could hear the ever-so-closer footsteps of her pursuers. But she never looked back, fearing she may have seen something she would not have wanted to see or even worse: she'd see the giant plume of smoke she had fled from. She was sweating, but she wasn't sure if it was because she was tired and hot or nervous. She glanced down at a sack strapped around her shoulder and hanging by her waist; good, she thought.

Suddenly, her foot caught on an arched root, sending her flying forward and tumbling over, sending the sack rolling away. There was no time to lose! She quickly scrambled to her feet and tried to take off once more, but a great strong hand reached out and grabbed the collar of her shirt. "Gotcha lil' girlie," a raspy voice erupted from behind her. She began to struggle, kicking and scratching the man, but his strong grip never once loosened.

"Let go of me!" The girl kicked and hollered as more mercenaries closed in on her, releasing insults a girl of her age and stature should not say. This was it! She'd be tied up, brought before the Ones in Red, and hanged - or worse. But it seemed that the gods had other purposes for her. An arrow, coming from seemingly nowhere, pierced the air and entered her captor's left eye. The man let out a yelp louder than any hunting hound and in his frenzy he released the girl. As the other mercenaries ducked down and looked around in confusion, she pounced on opportunity and darted off in the direction of the arrow.

Her escape was short-lived, however, as she ran directly into a man who was rounding the tree, sword drawn. She fell back onto her rear, looking up at him. He was tall and stout, like the knights she knew back at home. He wasn't garbed in knight's armor though, but rather a suit of black garments, like a huntsman or explorer. He had a weary look about his face and in his blue eyes, a rough stubble to match, and his shaggy brown hair hung down to his shoulders. Whoever this man was, he didn't share any sort of similarities with her pursuers.

The man reached down and grabbed the girl's arm before aggressively moving her out of the way. He then rushed forward, driving his blade into the gut of one of the mercenaries. By this time the others had already drawn their blades, ready for battle. Another arrow came whizzing by, striking one man in the neck. The great warrior deflected a blow, hacked the others head off, and then countered the another attacker with a quick slash to his knee. His movement was filled with talent and the girl was awestruck. Within seconds the man had dispatched the mercenaries.

"Is that all?" Out of nowhere, a woman burst into the scene. She had dark hair, pulled up into a bun, a beautiful yet exotic face, with very exotic clothing. In her hand was a bow, but not like the ones she was used to. At her side was a sheath, and inside a curved blade; the hilt was beautifully decorated.

"Doubt it, but we shouldn't stick around for to long," said the man. He looked over at the girl, who was picking the sack she had dropped back up. "Get out of here girl, now!" The girl, albeit a bit confused, decided it probably best to stick with her saviors, and so grabbed her belongings and took off with them...


Letter written to the five remaining lords:
Artacis Burke of Gemhold; Maxwell Kcyning of Rockhold; Aurena Vance of Riverhold; Rattesse Sjövosson of Bloodhold; and Diana Macbeth of Craghold (Composer unknown)

quote:

King Lordran Kalzar and his entire family have been murdered within Dragonhold Keep. His people are scattered, his murderers at large, his dragon egg stolen (along with the keep's egg), no heir remains and the Kalzar Bloodline is lost. As is written within the Laws of the Isle, the Five Lords must convene in council to determine the next appropriate ruler of the Isle of Dracos. You are hereby ordered to attend this council or face the consequences. The Council will be held within Dragonhold Keep, and you are to leave your respective holds as soon as you convene with your own advisers.




Draycos777 -> RE: Isle of Dracos (2/24/2014 15:14:59)

At the courtyard of GemHold’s City Hall, Artacis stood with Vritra in front of a wooden obstacle course. Peering into it Vritra could see wooden planks sticking in and out of the walls. Artacis walked up besides Vritra and placed his right hand on his head and scratched behind his ears.
“You ready Vritra?”
Artacis looked down at the young dragon, awaiting his answer. Although the ebony scaled dragon had only hatched two months ago, he was already the size of a medium dog. Keeping such news like this to yourself is hard to do in GemHold and in a month and a half almost everyone in the city had heard of the dragon’s hatching although most haven’t seen it. Artacis hoped that not too many people outside have heard the rumors.
Vritra looked at Artacis and nodded his head.
“Yes, I’m ready but…”
Vritra looked back at the obstacle course in silence. Artacis prompted him to finish his thought.
“But? What’s wrong?”
“Why do I need to do this?”
“Because Vritra, soon the peace of the land will end and we all have to do what we can for the future of GemHold.”
Vritra looked up at Artacis while, Artacis himself, looked up at the rocky ceiling above them.
“Even Lorelei and myself need to train for what lies ahead.”
“I’ll do my best as well, master!”
Artacis looked at Vritra, who had bowed in a dog sort-of-way, and smiled.
“Please Vritra, it’s just Artacis. Anyways the concept is fairly simple.”
As soon as Artacis finished speaking the air behind them spilt as an arrow whished through it hitting the practice marks placed on the right of the obstacle course. Vritra quickly turned around to see who it was that had caught him off guard. Behind them stood, an unarmored Lorelei, staring at her arrow. She wore a long-sleeved cloth shirt with leather trousers, black boots and black leather archery gloves made from the hide of a wild Aranea. Her long silver hair, which was normally styled with a side-fringe to the left, was pulled back to keep it from blocking her eyes whilst taking the shot and her piercing purple eyes looking at the bulls eye she had just made. Lorelei, much like her twin, is tall and stood at a height of 6’6 and weighed 134lbs. Lorelei continued Artacis’ words like she knew exactly what he’d say next.
“All you have to do Vritra, is sneak along through the course, taking out as many as the practice planks as possible without getting caught.”
Lorelei lowered her bow and turned her head to face Vritra as Artacis continued.
“The crystal inside the planks will glow red if the light is blocked from it and the overseer will reset the obstacle. In the middle is a soldier. Disarm him silently and the course is done.”
“However,”
Lorelei continued on in Artacis place.
“If he sees you, you’ll have to fight him until he surrenders.”
“So in other words, take out as many enemies without being seen, right?”
Vritra summarized his task.
“Right, good luck.”
As Vritra quietly entered the course, Artacis turned to face his twin and folded his arms.
“Short range practice, huh? Still needs a little more work, though you’re unmatched at distance archery.”
Lorelei replied as she went to retrieve her arrow.
“Aye. It still lacks the accuracy I require.”
Yanking the arrow out of the wooden, Lorelei placed it back in her quiver and turned to face Artacis, her arms folded and her bow resting on her back. Her quiver, like her gloves, is made out of harden Aranea hide. The inside is split into four quarters, each quarter holding a different kind of arrow,
“I missed the heart by a horse-hair. So…you planned to do “that” now?”
Artacis nodded in agreement.
“Aye, we’ll need all the people we can muster, as well as the safety GemHold will be able to provide for them.”
Lorelei lifted her right hand and pointed at her head.
“Not to mention information.”
Artacis nodded once more.
“Aye, that too. Someone is bound to know what happened there. Someone who witnessed that bloodbath has to still be alive.”
“It seems more like a bad ending from one of the stories we use to read as children. The entire royal family line massacred overnight.”
“And the worst hath yet to come, sister.”
“Aye, no doubt the other nobles plan on starting another Reunification War just so their family line can take King Kalzar’s place, tsk, just thinking about it leaves an awful taste in my mouth.”
Artacis waved his right hand dismissively.
“Tis true, but there’s nothing we can do about it at this moment in time, except buy our time and train the soldiers we have now. The 500 guards left behind from King Kalzar’s rule have stayed here and are training swordsmen with Alcatraz but, they’ve have yet to seen a battle, let alone kill another human before. We ourselves have only taken down bandits, they chose their path, but the ones that are to come won’t have a choice. We need people who have seen battle and death, and have gone through still fighting. Those who are willing to fight for the chance to regain the peace they’ve lost. There are no doubt people like this in the towns of Dragonhold who have lost everything to the recent murders.”
“And calling on them to act shouldn’t be much of a problem, brother, it’s the travel to the towns then back to Gemhold, that will take time.”
“Aye, during which we’ll bring together the new unit. Send an outcrier along with a guard to the towns of Bremming and Kalzarton saying that those displaced by recent events or those wishing to shape their future can find peace, refuge and training at the trade city of GemHold.”
“Then I’ll send them out right away and get started on preparing our Araneus for travel.”
“Good, No doubt Halvard is with the miners and Gemma is overseeing the engraving being placed on the soldiers’ armor. I’ll meet up with Hally and see how things are moving along there, and then I’ll meet up with you to speak to Alcatraz.”
“Right, then I’ll be off!”
Both Artacis and Lorelei covered their left fists with their right hands and bowed to one another. This is a common sign of respect among the people of Gemhold. Lorelei walked back inside of the City Hall and Artacis watched Vritra training inside the obstacle course for awhile before turning, and walking inside the City Hall himself. As Artacis walked along the halls of the City Hall, he was soon accompanied by the Head Maid Felicitas Welsh. Felicitas is 5’6 and in her mid-40s. She has long brown hair tied in a bun and wears an outfit similar to a European Maid.
“Will you and milady be headed to Dragonhold today, milord?”
“Aye, if only to see who the leeches among the nobles are.”
Felicitas laughed and warned Artacis that he and his sister should be careful of their sharp wit while at Dragonhold. Artacis and Felicitas stop walking as they approached the front entrance of the City Hall.
“Would you like for me to prepare you’re suits, milord?”
“Aye, please do Felicitas. And…”
“Yes milord?”
“Take care of the house while we’re away.”
“As I’ve always done?”
Felicitas answered Artacis with a sly smile and Artacis couldn’t help but smile back as this was the truth.
“Aye as you’ve always done.”
Artacis straightened out and walked to the door, stopping before heading out.
“Lorelei and I will leave after she has finished her preparations and I have checked on Halvard. We’ll come back from this summonings as fast as we can.”
“I know you will milord. Be careful.”
Felicitas bowed while Artacis opened the doors of the City Hall and left, the doors closing behind him.




Master K -> RE: Isle of Dracos (2/25/2014 15:44:50)

"Of all the things to happen!" Master K fumed. He anxiously paced around the study, his clicking footsteps echoing through the room. "I would have never anticipated us being a part of this...this atrocity!" The letter was placed carefully on the deep brown, wooden desk. Within it's royal stationary, it detailed a horrific event that would mean a turning point for the Isle of Dracos.

"Brother, please, just relax." Aragon said firmly. "It...it isn't as bad-"
"Not as bad?!" Master K said furiously, now turning to face his brother. "Not as bad?! An entire royal line was murdered, and their assassins are still out there! The dragon egg has hatched, and we are now tasked with caring for this mysterious creature, in the face of oncoming disaster! Now, tell me that this isn't bad!"
Aragon paused, carefully trying to chose his words. Master K was usually known for being aloof, level headed and relaxed, but now the recent events has thrown him into disarray, a sight Aragon has never really seen, nor dealt with.
"We are going to be fine. We have our men we can assemble. Our city is fortified. We can make it through this."
"I wasn't prepared for this! You weren't either, and don't you lie! I can see the lines of worry within your face, the look of doubt within your eyes! I can see you putting on an effort to keep calm, when really your just as worried as I am!" Master K snapped at him.
"Listen here, you seriously need to relax-" Aragon started.
"What good will that do me?!" Master K shouted, picking up a nearby dagger and throwing it straight across the room in fury.

"Sirs, I have your tea-" The maid entering the room began, before her hat was whisked off her head and pinned to the wall behind her by a stray dagger flying across the room. The maid froze in horror, and began to shake. Master K calmly and casually walked over to her, showing no indication that he was ever angry.
"Thank you kindly, dearest Demura." Master K said ever so casually, taking the try of tea and sandwiches from the maid and placing it on the nearby table. Master K then went, wrenched the dagger from the wall, took the cap, and placed it back on the maids head.
"My sincerest apologies for that." Master K said, turning the maid around carefully and escorting her out the door. "Oh, and please, try to knock next time." He then shut the door. The maid, outside of the study, shook her head, and went on again.

"Now see what you've done, you've gone and scared Demura. The poor dear is already skittish as it is, now you go and-" Aragon began.
"Relax brother, I know how to handle these types of things." Master K said, with a near smug smile. He reached over to the tray of food and took a cup of tea. "I'll be fine. I've gotten all my initial anger out, so now I'm seriously ready to listen." Aragon rolled his eyes, took the other cup of tea, and sat down in one of the study's seats.
"You're going to have to attend this meeting." Aragon said sternly. "I can manage Rockhold till you return." Master K sighed, and took a seat.
"Is this really wise? Assembling all your leaders in one area, to be picked off by assassins?" Master K said. "I don't like the idea of it. I'll go, but I'm going to keep my katana on me. I want to be able fight, if need be. It would be rather bad if we did not represent ourselves, but I don't fussy this getting together idea with assassins on the loose. " Aragon sighed, but looked at Master K firmly.
"Fair enough. Just don't go looking for trouble where trouble isn't present, understand? We do not need to aggravate the other lords, lest we be put in the line of fire. If there truly is going to be a war for the crown, I'll begin building our army. We need to start focusing on our war strategies in the very near future. We also need to begin training Jaycov for battle, as I'm sure he'll be an asset eventually. Oh, and we'll need to begin preparing more of the Kcyning poison." Aragon said.

"It's starting to sound like a plan." Master K said. He stood up, and looked at Aragon with a dire look.
"I'll prepare to depart soon."

Meanwhile...

Jet was within the music room, where various instruments and his piano were kept. He was to his piano, and then began to casually play a tune.
"You're piano playing never gets old." A voice from behind him said. He jumped slightly, turning around immediately. From the cello case, a cloaked figure emerged.
"Daunte, what the hell...?! How long have you been there?!" Jet said angrily, trying to calm down from his fright.
"I heard you coming, so I hid." He said shyly. "I thought you would be used to my antics by now."
"You just caught me off guard, that's all."

Suddenly, a racket emerged from outside the room. Daunte looked at Jet worriedly.
"It must be those two miscreants again." Jet said, sounding annoyed. Daunte began to chuckle.
"You gonna go deal with them?" Daunte asked, laughing slightly.
"You know it." Jet said, tromping out of the room. Daunte laughed to himself, and then slinked off elsewhere.

"Can't catch me, ahaha!" Ike shouted behind him, running through the castle hall. His red cape billowed behind him, and he clutched his makeshift scepter. Behind him, flew a young, navy blue dragon.
"Watch me!" The young dragon called out, with a laugh. The two dashed down the hall madly, trying not to knock over the decor.
Just from around the corner, the kindly maid walked out, only to be greeted by two rambunctious children dashing past her. With a screech, she hit the wall to avoid being ran over.
"Sorry Demura!" Ike called out as he ran past her. The maid sighed, exasperated, and slowly sunk to the floor.
"Those two will be the death of me..." She said, at wits end.

As the two ran through the fortress, Ike eventually brought up in a roadblock. That roadblock happened to be his oldest brother, the 'ghost' of Rockhold Fortress.
"What are you two doing?!" Jet said menacingly. His glare could be clearly seen through his long, messy, fair hair.
"Nuuuthin." Ike said to him innocently, avoiding his gaze. Just behind him, the young dragon bounded in, knocking both of them over.
"Gah, can't you keep yourselves under control?!" Jet said angrily, standing up. Both Jaycov the dragon and Ike apologized.
"Right. You can't just be running through the halls like a bunch of madmen."

"Oh, lighten up Master Jet. They're young, and full of energy. Weren't you young once too?" A kindly voice said from behind him. He turned around to be greeted by Annette, one of few maids of Rockhold Fortress. Annette was a vivid young soul, but at the same time, was head of the maids, having been at the fortress for quite some time. She kept her chestnut brown hair in a neat bun, and was always pleasant and friendly. She handled many activities, but one of her primary duties was watching over the children, so she became very close to the family.

"Annie!" Ike said excitedly, hugging in to her.
"What did they do now?" Annette said to Jet, with a slight laugh. Jet rolled his eyes slightly.
"They were running in the halls again. They shouldn't be at that, especially not the dragon." Jet said, sounding slightly irritated. Annette laughed.
"Boys will be boys." She joked with him. Ike and Jaycov then headed off, most likely to go to the courtyard.

"They're gonna have to seriously train that dragon. He's got basic skills, but...seeing with the..recent developments." Jet said, giving Annette a concerned look. Her smile began to fade.
"So you know...?" She said, the warmness beginning to leave her voice, being replaced with slight sadness.
"Indeed. It's looking bad." Jet said, crossing his arms. Annette sighed.
"Things are definitely taking a turn for the worst. Do your brothers, or even the dragon know anything?" Annette said.
"Not a word. Father and uncle plan on breaking the news to Jaycov soon. Uncle has to attend a council." Jet said, with worry beginning to creep into his voice. Annette looked down, and sighed slightly.
"I'm sure your uncle will be fine." Annette said, trying to put on her cheerful persona. Jet looked away for a moment, then looked back at her.
"I hope so."




Kellehendros -> RE: Isle of Dracos (2/25/2014 22:30:51)

The Lady's Protector
He felt, through the vague haze of sleep, the light touch of fingertips running along his body. Damascus stirred slightly, settling again after a moment. The bed was exquisitely comfortable, far finer than his own in the barracks, and the comforting weight of blankets made it warm and inviting. Sleep clung to him, as if unwilling to let him return to the waking world. The soldier was fine with that, as his dreams had been very pleasant. Still, the feeling returned; soft, probing digits moving lightly, caressing over the network of scars and nicks that crossed his chest, shoulders and arms. Damascus sighed, though it was a happy sound, and his eyes opened slowly.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed next to him, wrapped in a house robe as green as the new shoots of grain after the first rains of the planting season, her golden hair in a loose cascade down her back. Even in the febrile light of the single candle on the bedside table, her hair shone. She smiled at him, and Damascus felt a tingling shock, as if his heart jolted in his chest. Her voice was sweet, and was there a hint of sadness there, or was it only his longing imagination? "It is almost dawn."

"Almost..." The knight hammered his brain into order. He was usually such a light sleeper that any noise could wake him, and he was always alert and clear-headed when waking. It was never that way, not in this room. In this room, nothing was normal. He slept deeply, woke foggily, and never early. Damascus shook his head, sitting up slowly. "I should go, my lady."

Lady Aurena smiled at him, and the soldier felt the dizzying rush of that expression again. Surely this was what bards meant, with all their flowery talk of love, all those songs that women so adored. "Perhaps you should..." She trailed off, the smile becoming just a little bit wicked. "Perhaps I should command you to stay."

His heart flipped in his chest, and Damascus swallowed, his eyes darting around the dim room swiftly. It was sometimes hard for him to tell when she was serious, and when she was joking. Her mind was a mystery to him, and perhaps that was some of what drew him to her, but surely she must be joking about this. For him to be discovered here would be bad enough, but for her to flaunt the thing was unthinkable. Yet, the knight could not deny that a part of him secretly longed for it. To be done with the secrecy and deceits would be good, and there was some part of him that dreamed, foolishly, yes, but it dreamed, that it could happen, could be real. As if there was any way he could sit next to her in hall of Kal Haven as her equal. "If that is what milady commands, so be it."

"My lady, Damascus, commons say milady. My lady, say it again."

Damascus flushed. He may have been a knight of the court, and Lady Aurena's chosen Captain of the House Guard, but he was the son of a blacksmith, and when he was flustered his speech slipped back into the familiar modes he had grown up with. "If that is what my lady commands, so be it." He wondered sometimes if he loved her because of her beauty, or if it was for the things that she had done for him, the station and degree to which she had elevated him. It must have been some combination of the two. "I only... That is, if my lady will permit me to remind her, it would not do for me to be seen here."

She sighed, and again Damascus felt a fluttering of hope. Surely her disappointment meant something, surely she must feel something. He feared, though it was hard to admit to himself, that perhaps he was only a passing amusement to her. Yet, the time they had spent together must count for something... "You are right, as usual, Damascus. Go see to your men, and be ready for the Council this afternoon."

It was a dismissal, but the knight comforted himself that she wanted it no more than he did. He watched her rise, crossing the room and sitting at a dressing table, lifting a comb and beginning to work it through her hair. Damascus hesitated for a moment, and then rose, ducking out a discreet servant's entrance. Lady Aurena was right, there was much to do.


The Scholar
The news would make for ill-hearing. Laewin knew that, but also knew that Aurena was never one to punish the messenger for the message, and this was urgent as any message might be. He halted before the doors to master bedroom, blinking in surprise to see Damascus there, talking with the House Guard standing watch at the door. It was unusual to see the knight in this area of the castle so early. Normally, he would be inspecting the morning mustering of the guard, or hearing the night reports from the scouts and guards whose shifts were ending. Perhaps the soldier was simply checking in on his man.

Laewin ran a hand distractedly through his beard, more white now than the black it had been. The House Guard laughed at something the Captain said, shifting his weight slightly and leaning against the spear he rested on the floor. Armor clanked as the man moved, and his green cape flicked over the floor at his feet, hitched behind the sword belted at his waist. Finally, the guard noticed the scholar, and the expression on his face shifted to careful neutrality, prompting Damascus to turn and see Laewin as well. "Good morn to you, Laewin."

He nodded. "Yes, yes, Captain. Are you here to see Lady Aurena as well?"

The knight glanced at the guard, and then shook his head. "Just checking up on some things. I was passing through, and wanted to see how Gregor's watch had been." He frowned slightly. "Is there something wrong?"

"Yes," Laewin sighed, "very wrong. It may be best if you come, you'll know soon enough, and this bears upon you, as well as us all."

Something passed across Damascus' face, but Laewin was distracted by the portentous news he carried, and let the moment pass without remark. He stepped forward as the guard moved back, and rapped on the door sharply. There was a moment of silence, and then a call from within. The scholar pushed the door open, and was followed by Damascus into the room. "My Lady, please forgive my coming at such an early hour, but there is grave news from the east."

Aurena was lighting candles around the room, covered in a favored house robe of green. "The news is always grave, this early in the morning, Laewin." Her eyes slipped away from him and to Damascus, and she frowned slightly. "Good morn, Captain. Is this some news of further banditry, that you are here, instead of with your men?"

Laewin glanced at Damascus, noting, and not for the first time, that Aurena expected much of the man she had picked to lead her House Guard. For his part the Captain shook his head. "I know not, Lady Aurena. I happened by, and Laewin bid me come to hear his tidings."

The scholar looked back to Aurena, took a breath, and then made the plunge. "My Lady, I am sorry, but the King is dead. House Kalzar has fallen."

She looked stunned, and the taper slipped from her hand, falling to the carpet as she took a swift step back, as if the news itself was a physical blow. The taper guttered, but might yet have caused a fire, had not Damascus stooped and retrieved it quickly. Aurena took no notice of it, she was staring at Laewin. "The King is dead..." There was a long pause, in which the scholar could see her fighting back the shock to get the words out. "Long... Long live the Queen."

He shook his head, stepping forward and gently placing a hand on her arm. "My Lady, you misunderstand. I am sorry, but the Queen is dead. House Kalzar is no more. Dragonhold keep burns, and no one can find the King or his household."

Aurena stared at him for a long moment in silence, and not for the first time, Laewin wondered what thoughts swam behind those green eyes. He knew she was intelligent, smarter than many gave her credit for because of her sex, but she seemed to be recovering from the initial shock, and her expression was guarded now. Her voice, when she spoke, was even and measured. "Then it is a very good thing the Council was scheduled to meet today anyways." She turned, looking to Damascus. "Captain, turn the House Guard out, I want no panic in the street. Word will spread fast. Lordran was well loved, and people in grief do not always express it in a civilized fashion."

"As my Lady commands." Laewin watched Damascus as the Captain saluted, and then swept out of the room quickly.

After a momentary pause, Aurena turned towards the scholar. "I will require tallies of all the supplies we have on hand. Grain, horses, men, swords, arrows, gold. All of it."

He frowned very slightly. "All of it, my Lady, but why?"

She looked at him, her emerald gaze cool, steady, and composed now. "I trust not this news from the east. It may yet be that the Queen lives, or one of the King's children, but we must prepare for the worst. If House Kalzar has fallen, there is no King of the Isle, and that will mean a war such as we have not seen since the Wars of Reunification."


The Council of Dukes
It was early afternoon when the dukes, and Aurena's other advisers, gathered in the map chamber. The room itself was off Kal Haven's library and record room, which were Laewin's domain. It featured a series of shelves and cases holding maps of regions and villages across the Riverhold, as well as maps of the other holds. The dominant feature of the room, however, was the rectangular work table whose surface was inscribed with a large, detailed map of the Riverhold.

When he arrived, Aurena was sitting at the head of the table, resting her fingers lightly on the warm, lacquered surface. It had been treated so many times over the years that the map had stained deep into the wood itself. Damascus was certain that if the the top inch or so of the table was shaved off, one would still be able to see the map upon the remainder of the table. He moved and stood behind Aurena's right shoulder, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, watching as the dukes entered.

Duke Hereith Therein, the Lady Aurena's father. A large and sturdy man, he clumped across the room, claiming the seat at Aurena's right. Damascus knew the pair were not on the best of terms. The duke wished his daughter to marry again, specifically to a knight of Therein's household. What the man thought to gain of such a match, Damascus was uncertain. Lady Aurena was regent until Therein's grandson matured, and that was the way of it. Perhaps he thought a second marriage would put his daughter back under his thumb.

Next to enter was Duke Petrick Morn, a nondescript man with a wispy brown mustache. He sat to Lady Aurena's left. Damascus found Morn to be a popinjay. He was desperate to endear himself to Aurena, and could be counted upon to appear at the fortnightly Council bearing gifts. The Captain had seen Morn's latest effort when he arrived in the map chamber. A pair of pearl earrings, currently dangling from Lady Aurena's ears. Damascus knew that Lady Aurena found Morn's attempts amusing, though what else she might think of them beyond that, he did not know. It was an open question who would be more outraged by his relationship with Lady Aurena, her lord father, or her erstwhile suitor. Neither eventuality would be pleasant, Damascus knew.

Last, of the dukes, was Duke Ermen Thorpe, a slender man with a shock of blonde hair that fell to his shoulders. He took the seat next to Morn, settling his hands on the table and folding them, his eyes slipping back and forth between Lady Aurena and Therein. As far as Damascus knew, Duchess Kamara remained in Gentleaf. That was for the best, since relations between the two women were frosty at the best of times.

The last to enter the room was Laewin, who closed the doors behind him, hurrying along to take the seat next to Therein, and unloading a pile of books and ledgers onto the table. To Damascus, the scholar looked worried, and that was hardly a surprise. Considering the news he had given them from the capital this morning, the Captain was worried himself. The books were a staple of Laewin's presence at the Council, and he would refer to them from time to time on some matter of law or accountancy. Though the Dukes might laugh at him, or grumble when he corrected them, he was the one keeping track of the goods and gold moving through the Riverhold. Damascus knew, if only vaguely, that Lady Aurena had two armies. One was made of men that he led, the other was made of scribes, counters, and merchants. If that apparently chaotic mass had a leader, it was Laewin.

Damascus remained where he was, standing behind Lady Aurena and slightly to one side. It was his customary position when she held court, and though he had been offered a seat at the table several times in the past, he preferred to stand. The position was comfortable to him, familiar, and allowed him to keep an eye on everyone else in the room at once.

"My lords, I thank you, as always, for the service that you render to the Riverhold, and by extension, to the kingdom." Lady Aurena began smoothly, and Damascus glanced at her swiftly. Since the momentarily shock this morning, she seemed to have recovered her bearing. "I know that we have much business to discuss, but other matters of great import have seen fit to thrust themselves into pride of place." The dukes glanced at one another, concerned, but none voiced a question or interrupted Lady Aurena, and after a moment she continued. "This morning, Laewin brought terrible tidings to me." She hesitated, and then seemed to gather herself for the plunge. "The Dragonkeep burns. Lordran Kalzar is dead, and all his family with him."

His eyes flicked away from Lady Aurena, dancing to each duke in turn, watching their reactions. They could not have been more stunned at Lady Aurena announced she was with child. Morn's mouth worked, as if the man was chewing on the thought, and Thorpe simply looked stunned, as if he had been struck on the head with a club. Therein recovered quickest, eyeing his daughter in consideration, and then speaking. "How do you know this thing?"

"A bird from the capital. Laewin has... business contacts there." Lady Aurena slipped a hand down to a satchel hanging off the back of her chair, drawing out a slender, tightly rolled piece of vellum. "And because an hour ago this arrived in the rookery." She held the tiny scroll up, and Damascus sighed inwardly. Since assuming his post he had learned to read, and he knew without needing to be told that she wanted him to read the contents of the scroll to the dukes. He could read, something most commoners couldn't, but that didn't mean he could do it well.

He stepped forward, taking the piece and gently unfurling it. The words were tiny and closely set, saving valuable space and weight to make the message as small as possible. The Captain read the message over twice, self-consciously forming several of the words silently as the others watched him. At length, he felt confident enough that he understood what was written, and read the scroll off to them before setting the vellum back onto the table, where it curled lightly back in on itself once unrestrained by hand.

Duke Thorpe shook his head. "How can they know? The king, yes, but his entire family, his heirs? Who wrote this message, and how can they know the truth so soon after the cursed act?"

"Does it matter?" Morn returned, running a hand through his hair and tossing his head. "Dead, alive, we must do something."

Lady Aurena remained still, her eyes shifting between the men as they spoke, shifting to her father as Therein shook his head as well. "Do, yes, but what?"

"Declare the hold free." Morn smiled as if he hadn't just suggested treason against the Dragon Throne. "The Kalzars are dead, or scattered if they live. Raise our banners, and declare the Riverhold an independent kingdom. Crown the Lady Aurena as Queen of Rivers. What need have we for the others?"

"That's... You cannot be serious, Morn." Thorpe made a placating gesture. "The other Holds would unite and smash us."

"Pah, are you afraid of a handful of delta-dwellers, Thorpe?" The Duke of Canor made a dismissive gesture. "The other Holds won't care, they'll be doing the same. Mark me, with no one on the throne, what they can gain will be first on their minds."

Laewin spoke up. "Surely it will not come to war? The Reunification Wars were ruinous. No one could wish to go back to such a time.

"That was years ago, bookworm." Morn laughed. "Men are men, as they have ever been. Men fight for power and glory. Do you seriously think this time will be any different from any time before?"

"My Lord of Canor makes a good point," interjected Therein, "whatever the other Holds might do, we cannot dismiss the possibility that the other Holds may have designs upon expanding their own power. It would be prudent, at the least, to call the banners and make preparations in case the worst may come."

Damascus shifted slightly, as the dukes looked at Lady Aurena. She bore their scrutiny with the ease of long practice, and when she spoke, her voice was light. "I appreciate your... enthusiasm, Duke Morn, and the honor that you would do me. However, it is in my mind that to act hastily would be ruinous at this juncture. I am but a woman, and I do not long for battle and glory. My concern is for the safety of the Riverhold, as it has ever been. To act rashly now would be to put all we hold dear at risk." She tapped the table lightly, drawing attention to the map there. "Yet, my lord father is not so wrong. If one would have peace, one must prepare for war." Glancing back and forth among the dukes, Lady Aurena at length settled her gaze on Laewin. "My lords, I would ask that you return swiftly to your homes. Take stock, and make your preparations. Call your banners, mend your walls, and hold yourselves in preparation for war. I will go to the Dragonkeep, and meet the other heads of the Five. If the gods will it, we may steer a course as best benefits all."

Morn rose from his seat. "You cannot mean to go! This may be nothing more than a trap to lure the remaining leaders to their deaths. We don't know who the author if this missive is."

Duke Thorpe frowned. "Are you so ready to start at shadows? The message must have been written by the castellan, or one of Kalzar's surviving advisers."

"Your concern touches me, my lords, both of you. Yet, this is my duty, and I intend to do it. Do not fear for me overmuch. I certainly will not be going there alone and unprotected." She looked over her shoulder and smiled. Damascus swallowed, heart leaping as usual when her smile was turned on him. "Damascus and body of the guard will accompany me. I will be as safe as if I was staying in any of your halls."

Therein frowned, but remained silent, and it was Laewin who spoke next. "My lords, if all is to be put ready, I will need to speak with each of you concerning your stores and potentials." He tapped a hand lightly on his stack of ledgers. "I have preliminary numbers here, but you will need to confirm things for me."

Lady Aurena rose, and the men stood automatically in response. "There is much to be done, my lords. These events are a summer storm, come in an ill hour." Her hand dropped to the table, fingers resting lightly on the lacquered surface. "We are the stewards of the Riverhold, and no matter what happens, we will defend that which is ours. My lords," she rapped the table with her knuckles sharply, "we are the Riverhold."

"This Endures." The dukes answered, the traditional response and signal that the meeting was at and end.

They turned and moved towards the door with Laewin as Lady Aurena sat again. "My lord father, a moment, if I may?"

Duke Therein halted, and the others did as well, looking between Therein and Lady Aurena for a second before continuing out of the room, leaving the Lady Regent alone in the room with her father and the Captain. Therein returned to the table, standing next to it and clasping his hands behind his back. "Aurena?"

The familiar address was presumptuous, in Damascus' opinion, but Lady Aurena seemed content to ignore what she might have taken as a slight. "How many barges are leaving for the Craghold in the next week?"

Therein blinked, clearly not expecting this. He took a moment and gathered himself before replying. "Nine, ten. I would need to consult my record-keeper."

"Stop them."

"Aurena?"

Lady Aurena smiled, as Duke Therein frowned at her. Damascus shifted slightly, frowning himself. "Stop them. The Craghold will not starve, not right away."

The Duke of Kasidan mulled this for a moment. "You mean to provoke them."

"Never. Shipments on the river are often raided by bandits. That is why prices go up. Given the level of banditry recently, I feel it only fair that we renegotiate our contracts with the Craghold. I am only looking out for the best interest of my people. I see no gain for them if they are killed by hungry bandits, and the cost of scourging the countryside of such a menace cannot be borne by us alone."

Therein smiled slightly, and there was a faint hint of approval in his voice. "As you wish, my lady. If I may be so bold, it may be best to halt all food shipments, not merely grain."

"Yes, I believe you are correct, father. It is good that you are here to advise me."

The duke shifted, crossing his arms over his chest. "And when the Craghold protests our increase in prices?"

"The one thing the Craghold is fit to grow is rocks. Let them eat their own crops for a change."

"Of course, my lady." Therein bowed, and then turned and left.

Lady Aurena rose, and glanced at her Captain before motioning for him to walk with her. "Come Captain, you have many preparations to make, before we march on Bremming."

The Captain moved after her, puzzling at what he had just witnessed pass between Lady Aurena and her father. It took him a moment to hear her words. "March to Bremming, my lady. To march on a place means to attack it. We will march to Bremming, and from there, to the Dragonkeep."

She smiled her dazzling smile at him, and Damascus hardly heard her next words. "Of course, Damascus, forgive me. I am just a woman, how am I to know what all your soldierly phrases mean?"




Starstruck -> RE: Isle of Dracos (5/5/2014 15:38:39)

Dunsinane

Claudius perched on the specially crafted perch elegantly set at Diana's shoulder. His long, serpentine body had coiled around the ornate structure of it, with a pair of legs extended for regal posture. The Lady herself wore a more elaborate costume than she usually presented; simplicity and elegance were her modus operandi, and anything that changed her shape rather than complementing it was not quite her style. Still, the way it matched the harness was pleasing, and she was forced to wear the perch to every social occasion now. Claudius became a nuisance when left to his own devices; better to have him with her.

"You look beautiful, my love." She turned; it was Finlay. "I am ready," she replied, and her husband took her arm and led her into the room.

Their entrance attracted all eyes, and Diana was afraid at once. The reassuring grip on her arm did not falter, however, and the feeling quickly passed. Adopting a cheerful expression, she waved to the assembly and received a cheer, for though the castle knew a great deal about her, she was still a popular leader. She admired Craghold for this, that they could look beyond her past and her low birth, to see her as she was now. Under her increasingly less subtle reign, Craghold had risen to new heights of prosperity and justice. She was not pompous or ostentatious. She deserved the position she was in. Nobody objected.

"Papa! Mama!" she exclaimed suddenly, moving quicker than she should towards the aging figures waiting with proud, tight smiles. She threw her arms around her father's wide shoulders and gave her mother a warm embrace. They, having become startlingly well acquainted with formality, graciously greeted her husband with the airs of a queen's parents. Diana felt a rush of pride at her mother's and father's adaptability to their current circumstances. She smiled suddenly and reached out her arm. Claudius caught his cue and wound his body around her slender wrist and sat upon her palm. Diana's mother clapped.

"Oh my darling, look at you. The grace of a true lady, I say. My dear, how you've grown..." The pair seemed lost in thought. Her father fidgeted and gave a slight cough, and her mother took her arm.

“Dear, there seems to be some unwelcome news. Do you mind if we sit down somewhere? Somewhere…else?”

“Not at all, Mama. Come, Finlay, let’s find somewhere we can entertain our favorite guests in peace and quiet.”

The table chosen was suitably removed from the remainder of the party that none came near; they saw the whispered conversation and wished desperately to eavesdrop, but the presence of the vigilant dragon was enough to frustrate their efforts.

“This isn’t sensitive information, per se,” her father said, “but it’s probably for the best if the nobles learn of this after the occasion. We would hate to ruin their stuffy, boring fun.” He handed Finlay a letter, which was speedily read with an increasingly concerned expression. Diana was next. When she was finished, she looked up with wide eyes.

“Dead? And by the…” She lowered her voice. “the assassins? Impossible! I’m willing to bet they’re claiming the egg - our spies haven't been able to send much about any hatchings, but we haven't received any news; Finlay and I are confident that Claudius here is the first to hatch. The arrival of the Assassins changes that - we don't have any information on them."

She glanced at Finlay, and leaned in. "Do we?"

Her father shifted uncomfortably.

Nothing was said for a few moments.

"Darling," her mother said, hesitantly, at last, "I think you should answer the call of the letter. You know how the Assassins are as well as I do - unpredictable, dangerous, and borderline insane." She seized her husband's hand reflexively. "Them in charge of the kingdom...that would be bad news, but it's totally against how they normally operate. I can't help but feel they have a more sinister plan, but whatever it is, you'll probably not be benefited by hanging around Craghold. And if you're leaving...leave now."

The Lord Macbeth nodded, scribbled a few letters, and stood.

"Come, my Jezebel, let us depart."

Nobody noticed them leave.

On the Road

"This is bad. This is very bad. I'd forgotten about the eggs - both of them! Heavens, it's certain that whoever claims them will far outnumber us. And then where will we be?" Diana pushed her hair away from her forehead. "God forgive us all, I do believe we're doomed."

Finlay took her hand. "Now, now, darling, don't frighten the dragon. We have plenty of time to reach Dragonhold Keep and plenty of time to plan."

"What do you suggest?"

"Nothing."

"Oh, you're so helpful."

"No, no, no. Nothing is the key. We won't aim for the throne. We won't descend into petty squabbling. We'll just do nothing. There's no reason to inject ourselves into the petty squabbles of nations."

"And then when they've exhausted themselves and dug moats around each other..."

"...we'll swoop in, snatch the crown, and kick the lot of them out. It won't be hard, not with the threat of 3 dragons behind us. How big is Claudius now?"

"...Small. You have to remember, he hatched less than a week ago. Big enough? He's got a fairly sizeable death count now, though. I call him "slayer of kittens," and the rat problem hasn't even gotten worse as a result."

"My, but he's the mousey terror of Dunsinane."

“Quite. I don’t doubt we’ll have a bit of an infestation on our hands with him out of the castle.”

“Can he seem threatening at this stage?"

"Probably not, unless he can quickly develop some special talent right away. Fire, or speed, or strength. All Claudius seems to be able to do right now is coil up in warm places and take naps. Depending on what his abilities are when he grows up…we could miss this. I hope he’s at the very least mature about whatever he can do."

"For now, just teach him a nice trick, and he’ll perform for the nice lords and ladies when we arrive.”

“All the world’s a stage with you, isn’t it?”

“And all the men and women merely players, dear.”




TJByrum -> RE: Isle of Dracos (5/20/2014 10:10:03)

Fang Bay, off the coast of Bloodhold

Johnny watched as the waves slowly lapped over the shoreline. The bright sun overhead wasn't overly hot and the cool refreshing wind was blowing through his brown hair. The boat rocked from side to side in a smooth, calm motion, sending him into a lucid trance for a moment. The other deckhands on the ship were cleaning or messing around, as usual. Looking over at the captain's cabin, the door was still shut tight. Captain Horn had been inside for well over an hour with some strange man who had come aboard. Johnny sighed and picked up a dagger and a whetstone and began sharpening it to pass the time.

A few minutes passed by and the door creaked open. Horn walked out and was still talking, "should I expect to see you again?" A red-robed figure was behind him. His hands were clasped together and his hood hid all but the tip of the nose. Even with the bright sun shining on him Johnny couldn't help but sense a dark aura surrounding the man.

"No... at least not from me. We may send an associate if we need to, but as long as you stay in line, Captain, we shouldn't hear from each other in a long time. We've played our part, now you play your part."

"Right," replied Captain Horn. He waved over at one of the deck-hands. "Get our friend back to shore. Drop him off and come right back, you hear me?" The deckhand agreed and began readying a small rowboat. As Captain Horn surveyed his ship he glanced at Johnny who was suspiciously eying the stranger in the red robes. Captain Horn made his way to him. "Something wrong, Johnny?"

Johnny blinked his eyes and quickly looked up at the Captain. "Oh... uh... no sir. Just... I'm a bit worried is all."

"Worried? What for?" The Captain folded his arms and leaned up against the side of the boat.

Johnny didn't want to say anything at first, but now the Captain knew something was up. "I don't think... I'm not sure the crew likes it when you discuss secrets with some stranger. I'm worried they may consider mutiny," he whispered.

Captain Horn smiled and put his arm around Johnny. "Mutiny? On a merchant ship? Hah! The very thought makes me laugh! We're not pirates or privateers, Johnny, we're traders."

"And when's the last time we traded, Captain? We haven't been to port in months, we've been eating the trade goods!" At that moment, deckhand Fredwick walked by wearing a pearl necklace. "Look, Fredwick's gotten into the women's clothes, no one's gonna want to buy any of that now."

Captain Horn sighed and examined the shoreline. The deckhand had finally reached shore and the man was stepping off onto the sandy beach. "Johnny, there's two ways to trade in this world: by land, and by sea. Control the sea, you control trade. You control the trade, you control the coin. And you control the coin... you control the world."

Johnny looked at the Captain confusingly. Whatever he was hinting at went clear over Johnny's head. "I don't think I follow sir."

Horn leaned in very close and whispered to him, "I've received some... special news from our friend. Soon enough the land will be in turmoil and our small merchant ship won't matter. No one's going to want to trade, everyone's going to want to fight. Get me? So the way I figure, we ought to make a claim in this tumultuous future, and I think it's best we stake our claim now."

"And what did you have in mind?"

The Captain smiled menacingly and backed away from Johnny. "Set a course for Blackrock Island-"

"Blackrock Island is a pirate haven, sir, you can't-"

"Aye, it is. Fly the white flag when you sail into harbor... I have an offer they can't refuse."



Unknown location in Rockhold

The soldier watched his opponent intently. A step! A jab! He raises his shield up to parry the blow, but to no avail. The parry misses but the jab never connects as the opponents foot sends him crashing down into the dirt. He opens his eyes and watches as another soldier is flipped over the opponents shoulders and right next to him. The two men groan and cough up dirt.

"You're slow. And weak," said the opponent. He twirled his short-sword around, whizzing carelessly through the air. "Get back up, let's do it again." The soldiers looked at each other and sighed, out of breath and out of mood. They had been beaten left and right all morning, training under the legendary Sadin to become great warriors. Needlessly to say, they weren't great warriors - not yet anyway. Sadin commanded a small force of well-trained soldiers, only about a hundred or so. But each one was a well-trained killing machine, trained by Sadin himself for many years. The 'Warriors of the Stone' they called them, mostly due to the rocky beaches they lived on.

"No, not again," called out a voice from behind Sadin. "I have some business with our lord." The two newcomers sighed with relief, dropping their weapons and walking off to go rest. Sadin smiled at their uselessness. He'd mold them; maybe not today, but some day." Sadin whipped around, extending his blade, touching the announcer's throat with it. It was Doros, his old friend. Doros reached up and pushed the sword away; Sadin smiled. "I told you not to do that anymore Sadin, one day you're going to slip."

"Hah! The day I slip is the day I die, old friend," boasting about his precise strikes and balance.

"Correction: the day you slip is the day I die," replied Doros. "I have a message for you," he said.

"Well, what would the message be," asked Sadin, whirling his sword around.

"That the king, our king, has been murdered." Sadin looked at Doros surprisingly. "And it seems his entire family as well. As far as I know the other lords have received this message and must be on their way now."

"How did you receive this message? We are no lords," Sadin sheathed his sword, quite upset over the death of the king. He took a seat on a nearby rock, as did Doros.

"I don't know, but we got the message; a little messenger bird. Strange to, I don't know why we'd get the message. No one knows who killed the king, and there are no apparent heirs." The two friends just sat for a moment.

"I can understand why the lords need to know about the king's death... but why us? I don't like it."

"You suspect foul play, my lord?"

"Perhaps. But I need to think on it first. In the meantime, prepare the Warriors, we head for the castle at dawn."

Doros looked at Sadin with a surprising expression. "Sir, you mean to march on the castle? The lords would surely see you as an usurper!"

Sadin stood up and withdrew his blade. "No Doros, they know I'm a sellsword. Every lord in the Isle knows who we are."

"What do you plan to do?"

"Like I said, I'm a sellsword. The only question is, who do I sell my sword to?"




Kellehendros -> RE: Isle of Dracos (5/21/2014 19:56:50)

The Lady's Protector
To reach the Dragon Keep from Kal Haven, one had the choice of two routes: south on the horse road to Gentleaf, through the fertile Vale of Delet where the great herds ran, then north upon the grain road, and finally east where the western way met the grain road. The second route was north upon the trade road to Kasidan, the ancient and crumbling stronghold of House Therein, then east and south upon the hook of the grain road known as the sickle. From Bremming, the two paths became one, following the Kalzar's western way back north and east to arrive at the Dragon Keep, now burned and fallen.

Damascus knew the maps as well as any soldier did, and knew the things the maps did not say as well. He knew all the little byways and backwater stops where a traveler might take rest after a long day on foot or in the saddle. The Captain had traveled these roads for years, first marching with other foot soldiers, and later riding with the knights and lords.

Lady Aurena had elected to take the northern route, much as the Captain had expected that she would. The Vale was lovely, good land to ride through, but it had been some years since Lady Aurena had received a warm welcome in Gentleaf. Damascus never quite knew what to make of the slow-boiling feud between his lady and the Duchess of Gentleaf. It seemed foolish to him, a grudge held over a match that neither woman had a say in. Women were odd in that way, taking offense over slights and nursing them.

They left Kal Haven the same afternoon of the day that the dark words had reached them, five hundred mounted men with wagons of gear and supplies, the storied Royal Chargers of the Riverhold. Seeing them always made Damascus' heart soar with pride. Perhaps the ideas had belonged to Gerris, and in some measure to Lady Aurena, but the execution, the result, was his. Four hundred heavy cataphracts, one hundred light horse specializing in archery and scouting, trained to perfection. They would make fair time riding north along the trade road, though the wagons would slow them somewhat, and the last minute additions were little to the Captain's liking.

Lady Aurena had insisted that her son, Kored, was to accompany the party as far as Kasidan. Damascus had no argument concerning the presence of the Lady Regent's son. The boy seemed to have inherited all of his mother's good qualities. He was bright and quick-witted, and seemed old beyond his years. Most of the men liked him, though they were perhaps rougher company than the young noble was used to. The Captain had, at Lady Aurena's request, begun to train the boy in the rudiments of combat. Kored was still young, but showed promise, and Gerris spoke highly of the boy's wits.

Damascus' objection was to the addition of the egg to the baggage train. He had come as close as he ever had to arguing with Lady Aurena concerning the egg. He saw no reason to drag the misbegotten thing from House Vance's reliquary, and saw even less to cart the thing across a third of the continent to the Dragon Keep. Lady Aurena had insisted, however, and in the end the Captain had simply accepted. He served her, and it was not his place to question her decisions.

Word had reached the Riverhold of the dragons. The eggs were hatching. It was inconceivable. The eggs were ancient, a curiosity from the time of the Kalzar ascent to power. That eggs so aged could hatch... It was more than Damascus could wrap his head around. The egg of the Riverhold had changed, that much was certain. For so long as the Captain could remember, the egg had been an inert stone, a deep ruby red shot through with veins of emerald. Yet, only a few months ago, Kored had come pelting from the reliquary shouting that the egg was alive. The normally quiet boy was exuberant, and correct. Inspection of the egg had revealed a warmth previously unfelt, and the green veins that ran through the ruby exterior seemed to give off a faint, pulsing glow.

Over time the glow had strengthened, and the pulsing more frequent, until it seemed to observers that the pulsing came as steady as a beating heart. The egg was a wonder, surely, but it had yet to hatch, and Lady Aurena had ordered it be treated with special care. It hardly seemed a delicate thing to Damascus, and those special cares required delicate handling and treatment that would just slow them down. Perhaps he was simply overthinking the matter. Lady Aurena did not seem to be in such a great hurry to reach the Dragon Keep, despite the urgency of the situation. The Captain would have rode with all haste, but she had told him that they would take their time, for she did not intend to arrive first. "Let them wait for me," she had said, "it will do them good."

Damascus pondered those words as the column rode the trade road, idly watching a trio of grain barges as they floated downriver, back in the direction of Kal Haven. A few days would see them in Kasidan, and he would talk with Lady Aurena about leaving the egg behind. Kored would be staying there with his lord grandfather, and was fascinated by the egg. It was a symbol of Lady Aurena's status as one of the Five, to be certain, but with the eggs hatching, it seemed better to the Captain to keep it safe until such time as the hatchling dragon actually emerged.


The Little Lord
On the morning that the column was to leave Kasidan, he found his mother putting her enemy to the sword. He stopped to watch, his blue eyes flicking back and forth. Gerris was in desperate straights, constrained and forced back against a wall, hemmed in on every hand with blades, lances, and crossbows. The greybeard, to his credit, showed to sign of the strain that he was under; his seamed and weathered face was neutral as he faced his death. Only the dragon could save him now, Kored knew, but there was no chance of that. Even as the dragon soared in to break the noose of steel drawing tight about his king, his mother's dragon hammered it from the sky.

"Death in six." Kored looked at his mother as she spoke, and then turned his eyes back to Gerris, watching the old man silently. Neither seemed to have noticed him yet.

The greybeard glanced up at his mother from his contemplation of the board, and the shattered remnants of his forces, his voice soft. "I would not be so certain, my lady." What followed was a flurry of moves and counters. Gerris rallied the tatters of his army, only to watch them succumb one by one to his opponent's superior forces. Kored noted that the greybeard was not incorrect, however. He managed to stave off death for three turns longer than Kored's mother had predicted.

Gerris crooked a finger at Kored, beckoning him closer. "Your lady mother is much improved. Tell me, what did she miss?"

He glanced at the board, and then his mother, who smiled and inclined her head fractionally. Kored looked back at the board, and then closed his eyes, playing the moves back in his mind. "The crossbows. You sacrificed your light horse to the dragon to protect your crossbows. If mother had taken the crossbows instead, you wouldn't have been able to stop her pikes. Death in two from there."

"Just so." The old man smiled, his face wrinkling as the expression moved across it. Kored watched as Gerris looked up at his mother. "The boy has a good mind, much like yourself, my lady."

"You are too kind, Gerris. I was simply lucky, that is all."

"My lady is modest. Vasse is not an easy game to learn, and is a difficult one to master. I have played for many years."

His mother smiled, her emerald eyes twinkling. "Then perhaps it is merely a beginner's luck."

"You are no beginner, Lady Vance, nor is your son. You both have a good grasp of the tactics. The evidence supports my theories." He began to gather up the pieces, his age-spotted hands moving sure and deft, separating the armies and placing them to the sides of the board in orderly ranks.

Vasse could be played with up to six players, though often as not it was a contest between two. The board was a hexagon of interchangeable tiles upon which the players waged war. The first battle of that war was the placement of the tiles themselves, for each hexagonal tile represented a piece of terrain: mountains, plains, farms, cities, castles, each with their own benefits and drawbacks. The players took turns placing tiles, building the ground upon which the game would be played. Next came the arrangement of each player's army, hidden from view by a lacquered screen. Horse, infantry, siege equipment, and of course, the dragon. Each piece had rules governing the way in which it moved, and how it interacted with the other pieces and terrain tiles.

Kored found the game fascinating, though as yet he could only reliably defeat Damascus. The soldier had a hard time keeping all the rules straight. Kored knew that Gerris let him win, from time to time, mainly in the name of teaching him some point of tactics or strategy. He had yet to beat his mother, who told him that she did not believe in coddling him, and that if he wanted to win he should practice more. That stung, but he could see her point. Gerris said Vasse wasn't a game, it was a war fought without blood, but in real life, a mistake meant your men died, and you could too.

He looked at his mother. "Grandfather was looking for you." Kored saw, even if she did not want him to, the momentary tightening at the corners of her eyes. He had asked Damascus once about it, how his mother always seemed different about things with his grandfather. The Captain had hesitated, wouldn't meet his eyes, and would say nothing more than that his mother had loved his father very much. Kored wasn't sure he understood what that meant, or how it answered his question, but Damascus would say nothing further on the matter.

"Of course, I will go find him. Have you checked on the egg yet today?"

"Not yet!" Kored waved to Gerris, and ran from the room, darting through the halls to where the egg was being held. A pair of spearmen wearing his grandfather's colors stood outside the House Therein reliquary, where the egg was being stored until it was time for his mother and the others to leave. The first pair of guards on the room had denied Kored entrance to the room. He had told his grandfather, and he was not certain what had happened to the two men, but now there was a new set of guards, and these ones allowed him inside whenever he wanted.

The young boy slowed as he entered. The reliquary of House Therein was twice the size of the one with which he was familiar at home. On the walls hung old moth-eaten banners, notched swords, chipped and battered shields, all the ancient trophies and memorabilia of the history of his grandfather's house. The egg held pride of place in the center of the reliquary, clasped lightly in the well of a padded pedestal, and flanked by a pair of banners bearing the sheaf of Therein, gold on green. Kored knew that this had once been the home of the egg, given to House Therein by the hand of the first Kalzar. Later, the egg had been bartered away to House Vance. There was something odd about it being back here, a history that was a great circle, turning back upon itself like some massive, ponderous wheel.

It appeared much as it had the last time he had seen it, a red-scaled exterior shot through with veins of pulsing green. Kored frowned, considering the softly pulsing green light. It seemed to him that the pulsing was different somehow, faster, or maybe brighter. He reached out cautiously, touching the surface of the egg lightly, only to pull his hand back suddenly from the warm surface, his eyes going wide. There was a soft bump, and then a crack.

Kored inhaled sharply, and then turned and ran. "Mother, mother!"


The Lady's Protector
They entered Bremming with Lady Aurena at the head of the column, and Colat perched upon her shoulder. The hatchling was four feet long from tip to tail, a slender ruby-scaled form with a barbed tail as long as his body, and four legs ending in feet tipped with green talons. A ridge of green spines ran down his back, laying flat along his scales, but rising up when the dragon was agitated, much in the manner a cat's fur would bristle when angered. Colat's head was a slender wedge of ruby planes and scales, set off by brilliant emerald eyes.

Damascus found something unsettling about the hatchling's eyes. It wasn't until they were halfway down the sickle that the Captain realized what it was. Colat's eyes matched those of Lady Aurena. Oh, it wasn't an exact match, by any means. The dragon's eyes had slitted reptilian pupils, but the shade... The irises of the dragon had the same verdant emerald coloration as those of Lady Aurena, a color like the first shoots of wheat that broke through the soil to proclaim the growing season. Colat was currently draped across her shoulders, all wings and tail and sinuous neck. His green eyes peered out at the sights, taking in the crowd of amazed onlookers as his tail coiled down and around Lady Aurena's left arm. The gossip had flown across the island faster than a prairie fire during a summer drought. The dragons had returned, a living legend was come to Bremming.

The mayor of Bremming met the column on the steps of the of his residence, the flag of the Kalzars flying bravely over the crossed keys of the Lords of Bremming. Bremming was known as the key to the west, situated on the largest ford over the river that flooded south from the Craghold, through the Dragonhold, and met the sea in a spreading delta in the Bloodhold. House Bremming had founded their wealth on trade tariffs, making money on the goods flowing into the Riverhold and the food flowing out. The lord was not in residence, however, as the mayor imparted on them once Damascus and Lady Aurena had been ushered up to the his office.

A slender, balding man, the mayor had a nervous disposition, and a way of cringing and wringing his hands as he spoke that the Captain took an immediate dislike to. "My lady, my lady, it is so good that you are here. Lord Bremming, once he heard what had happened to our beloved king, he summoned his household guard and rode east. He said he would find the assassins, and kill them to a man. There has been no word for three days. I begged him not to go. I told him to wait. You would come, oh, I knew you would. The Five, I told him, wait for the Five. My Lord Bremming was always rash, he said if he waited the assassins would escape."

Lady Aurena smiled gently. "I am here. I know that you are frightened, we all are. That someone could kill our king, that alone is enough to frighten, but to destroy House Kalzar in a night... I promise you, the Five will put this right. I go to meet with them now."

"But, without the Kalzar dynasty... Surely it will not come to war, my lady?"

"I cannot speak for the Five, mayor. I can only speak for the Riverhold, and we want no ruinous war." She shifted slightly. Damascus knew that Colat, even so small as the hatchling was currently, was an uncomfortable burden to bear. The little dragon was warm as a sun-soaked rock, and was surprisingly heavy. He seemed to adore Lady Aurena, and insisted on perching on her shoulder whenever possible. Separated from her for too long, Colat became sullen and quarrelsome, liable to hiss and snap at others. She bore the burden as well as could be expected, and with the grace that she brought to all her tasks. "Lord Bremming... how many men did he ride out with?"

The mayor seemed startled by this question, blinking and peering at Lady Aurena, though his eyes kept darting back to the dragon on her shoulder. "Men... My Lord Bremming rode out with two-hundred men, my lady. The greater part of his guard he sent out in bands of ten, to carry news of the king's death to the countryside, and search for any trail that might be found. We have been most distressed. The garrison is depleted. Should the assassins come here, strike in force..."

Damascus found such a thing to be particularly unlikely. If the assassins had sought to end the Kalzar dynasty, they had done so. There was nothing in Bremming that would draw them here, unless the message they had received was wrong, and some member of King Lordran's family had escaped. Even if they had, Kalzarton was a more likely destination, and striking in force was hardly the definition of an assassin in the first place. He shifted slightly, his armor clinking softly as his lady answered. "Should the assassins come here, they will not find you undefended. I am sure that Lord Bremming called his banners before he rode out to find the assassins."

The balding man wrung his hands so hard that Damascus thought he was like to wear them clean off. "Oh, my lady, no. I told you, my Lord Bremming, he is a good man, but too rash, too rash, yes. When he heard, he assembled his men and rode off. I begged him to wait for you, for the Five, but..."

"I am sorry, mayor. You have done all that you could, I understand. I am sorry, but I cannot linger here to see that you are protected. The Five are summoned to the Dragon Keep."

"My lady, but my lady, what shall we do?" The man had worked himself into a tizzy. The Captain was afraid the man would be reduced to tears in a moment more.

"It is not a question of what you shall do." Lady Aurena smiled gently, lightly touching the man's shoulder. "But a question of what I shall do. I shall do what is right. We must depart tonight, but I will leave two-hundred men here to defend you, and I will send a messenger to my lord father to dispatch men of his own." Damascus shifted again, grimacing slightly. He did not like the idea of splitting their force. If they should run into trouble on the road... The Captain remained silent though, it was not his place to object to Lady Aurena's choices, especially in front of others.

The mayor's eyes grew wide, and he seemed to sag in relief. "You... You would? Oh, my lady, I do not know how to begin to thank you. That you would put yourself at risk for us... I don't know what to say."

"There is nothing to say. It is my duty as one of the Five to defend the realm. We have brought food and supplies with us, they will be distributed to your people, and my father's men will bring more. In these uncertain times, we must come together and share what we have if we hope to overcome. You must call Lord Bremming's banners, and hope that he returns soon. Until then, I promise that you will have the protection and bounty of the Riverlands to support you in your time of trial."

"Of course my lady, as you say."

The next day, as the somewhat reduced column assembled to ride out of the city, the fox of Vance flew beneath the flag of the Kalzars, and below them the crossed keys of Bremming. The crowd in the streets cheered as Lady Aurena rode out, waving to them and smiling. Colat perched on her shoulder, fanning his ruby wings. She smiled at Damascus as they left the city, riding east for the Dragon Keep and the meeting of the Five. "I meant what I said, Damascus."

He blinked in confusion, looking at her. "My lady?"

"I meant what I said, when I said that we marched on Bremming."

The Captain looked over his shoulder towards the city, now flying the flag of House Vance over the flag of their lord. "We did not fight, my lady."

"Not all battles are won with swords, Damascus. Lord Bremming has always had more courage than sense. Wherever he is now, when he returns, if he returns, he'll find that his people may cheer him, may thank him for looking for the men who killed their king, but they will remember that he left them defenseless. They will remember that in their hour of need, we were there with bread to feed them, and swords to protect them."

Damascus frowned. "But my lady, there was never any threat of attack."

She smiled. "No, there was not, but they were afraid, and we comforted them. They will not forget."




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