Rehm was sitting back on her hind legs, her patient gaze scanning the horizon over the enclosure’s wall. The sun had just set, and the last vestiges of reddish light were beginning to disappear as the crescent moon’s weak offerings failed to light up the forest around us. My brother was next to me, fidgeting occasionally in a mix of anticipation and worry; he still hadn’t come up with a name. At least, I thought, he was getting closer and narrowing his choices down.

We had spent only a few minutes waiting like this, as the sun had begun to meet the horizon, our bellies full from meals of either cow or deer to be ready for the journey ahead. It would only take a day or two to reach the gathering spot, but however long we would spend their would be in the company of a dozen dragons, all with appetites befitting their size. Eventually, Mother spread her wings and lifted her massive frame from the ground. Without a word, we mirrored her, my brother slower off the ground than me.

The two of us had already been told what to do, so we angled our flight behind our mother, nearing where the clouds might’ve been on an overcast night, and began flying north and slightly west. I glanced behind us, past my home and its surrounding forest, and saw the faint lights of Draughton through the clear evening air. I had met with Franz and Jean earlier, and had been introduced formally to the wife of the farmer that owned the cows. Hugging my green cloak a bit closer under her grumpy eye, Jean had told me to use her as an intermediary if I ever needed something, and I told them I was leaving for a bit. After that… Franz had decided to recite some, er, poetry he’d written. And… well, he got points for sincerity, at least. It was pretty damn cheesy though. And I thought a playboy like him would’ve known how to compliment a girl. Like god, compare me to a star or a flower, not a frickin’ tree. It sounded like an insult to me… Well, he seemed one hundred percent genuine about it, and I learned that Jean was about as done with it as I’d been after Franz had recited his original work.

“Hey hey, sis, help me out a bit?”

Turning an eye to the brother who had drifted next to me, I nodded and gave him my attention.

“How about Ilaeve?”

The word for ‘all-knowing’ in Magetongue, from a now extinct Elven language.

“If you’re all-knowing, what does that make me, eh? I know a lot more than you, so I guess I’d be some sort of god?”

Giving him a smug smile and avoiding the claw that swung at my shoulder, I pirouetted below and around him as he grumbled in my general constantly-changing direction.

“Fine then, what about Tireh?”

‘Tireh’, a draconic word for destruction, specifically via fire.

“I guess that’s alright, do you really like it that much?”

“Not really, sis. But at least it makes a bit more sense. I wish you’d at least tell me yours…”

“And have you tell Mother as soon as she asks? No way.”

The smaller dragon flying next to me drooped noticeably, but was forced to straighten out his posture to keep up with me and our mother, who was flying in front and slightly below us. A shimmer of magic surrounded her body, which I knew was for masking her presence to anyone below us chancing a look up at the stars. My brother and I were way too small to be noticed at our height against the dark sky, and looking down all I could see now were thick clusters of trees leading into farmlands in the distance ahead of us.

“What if I can’t decide in time?”

I looked at the dragon, and gave him a shrug before speeding up to place myself backwards in flight right in front of him.

“Just pick whatever comes to your mind then. Or make something up.”

“I-I can’t do that, Mother would be…”

“Well, you better decide quick then, huh?”

Giving him another grin, I fell away and back next to him, giving him responses whenever he asked about a name, even if he’d been asking about the same ones for days now. At our leisurely pace, at least for Rehm and I, the ground far beneath us melted into a never-ending blur, our route taking us over unpopulated wilderness and farms. It hadn’t felt like very long before the sun started its daily journey once again, rays peeking at us shyly over the world’s edge. Immediately, our mother looked back to us.

“Come then children, grab on.”

Both of us stayed silent, accelerating as Rehm slowed down a tad to let us into the crease between her shoulder blades. We both grabbed onto what we could, and the faint magic glimmer that had covered Rehm rolled over to encase us as well. According to Rehm, from below we would be entirely unseen.

As we both found places to hold, Rehm checked back with a careful eye, confirmed we were in place, and flapped her titanic wings a single time. My brother had been out of breath after flying at such a fast speed for him, and as soon as the acceleration hit us my breath was similarly taken from me. For the rest of the day, Rehm flew through a cloudless sky at a speed that would’ve been difficult for me to keep up with, and impossible for my brother to match.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jean knocked on the door, and pushed it inwards with his shoulder after hearing a gruff call. Getting the door open with considerable effort, Franz and Trakov followed him into the Captain’s office, closing it behind him. Captain Elspen sat at her desk, an irritated look covering her face. Standing to the side of her desk, looking over the spines of the tomes on the office’s bookshelf, Magister Wixon hummed and muttered to himself, completely unaware of the Captain’s mood. The three guardsmen came to stand at attention in front of the desk, Second Lieutenant Trakov Sokola at Jean’s left shoulder and Guardsman Franz Diolle at his right.

“Orders are in, Lieutenant. Faster than I expected, but they sent them back with the Magister here.”

Wixon, belatedly realizing the presence of three new people in the room, twirled about in his flowing robes to face them, one hand grabbing at his beard. Giving them a refreshed smile, he spoke.

“Ah, good good. Orders, she says! From the 1st General himself, as well! At least, probably. Wasn’t there myself, much too busy with that kid’s theory. I was right, you know, he certainly has a thing for lizards, heh, it was clear as-”

“Magister, perhaps you could finish this at another time, the orders given are quite crucial.”

The Captain gave Wixon a hard glare, one most of the guard would see in their nightmares for weeks if directed at them, but the mage simply sniffed and nodded, looking quite ruffled at the interruption.

“Quite important, very well. Go ahead.”

Giving him an even more irritated look, Captain Elspen lifted a parchment to the light, its opened envelope and royal seal lying below it on the desk.

“I’ll spare you three the flowery language they love to use, so listen up. Like I thought, you are to keep in contact with this new dragon, avoid angering her, all what you are already doing when possible. If it were just that, I wouldn’t have called you three here. I have discussed this with Lieutenant Sokola and the Magister, but what I am about to tell you will remain between us for the foreseeable future.”

Jean nodded, somber expression gaining another layer of concern. Whatever this was, it didn’t sound good. Was it related to Mia? Her mother? Esther, or the lizardkin? Captain Elspen placed the letter back on her bureau, and met all three of their stares.

“It is almost certain that the skirmishes between The Kingdom of Rolland and the Duchy of Oremis will escalate into full-fledged war, and that the Kingdom of Grennos will join on the side of Rolland.”

She stopped to let the two younger guards take in the information, the room quiet save Magister Wixon’s robes rustling as he idly flipped through a book.

“Captain, that is…”

“The Magister, Lieutenant Sokola, myself; frankly, most people privy to the full situation in the north agree. During the Magister’s trip to the capital, the seer personally hired by the Royal Family from the Ildraeth Conclave confirmed our suspicions. It is all but certain.”

“That means…”

Trakov cleared his throat, and Elspen nodded at him.

“Franz, First Lieutenant, the last time all three of those nations were in the same war, the continent was thrown into total chaos. We cannot allow what happened then to occur again. If… those in the north want to starve through the next dozen winters, it doesn’t matter, but if the Kingdom doesn’t take certain measures our own foodstocks will be at risk. Since Oremis will likely be on the losing end, we may have luck, but we must be prepared.”

“Indeed. But while they may be the least populated, it will still be a bloody war. Some of the Royal mages, as well as the Elven seer looked over Oremis’s recent transactions… it’s safe to say that they are sparing no expenses to hire mercenaries. Spiral Islanders, maybe even the Dullahans. I trust you two understand what this means?”

Franz nodded uncertainly, and Jean did the same before meeting his Captain’s eyes.

“And our orders, I presume they are related to the preparations Olivar will be making?”

Captain Elspen nodded, uncharacteristically playing with the parchment on her desk, folding an edge over.

“As a preliminary measure, scouts will be sent north acting as civilians to assess the state of every involved party, including the Spine Cities. I suspect Esther will do the same, as they’d be worse off than us, but the primary mission would be intelligence gathering and avoiding suspicion or capture.”

Jean heard Franz gulp at that, and Trakov shift postures.

“Lieutenant Sokola is the easiest choice for this, given his experience and appearance, he wouldn’t get a second look. Aside from him, I was given discretion to choose a few others from the Scouting Corps’ reserves. First Lieutenant Martine, I believe this is an invaluable chance for you to gain real experience. The same goes for you, Diolle.”

“Wait, what, what about-”

“Guardsman Diolle, this is an order from the Captain, and one coming straight from Baralis.”

The Captain raised her hand, silencing Trakov. The Magister, having not said a word since the beginning, was now leaning against the bookshelf, arms folded and watching the conversation with a rare solemn expression. Elspen muttered a few words under her breath, Jean hearing ‘just like his father’ among other exasperated words, and as she looked to Jean first and then Franz, her expression softened somewhat.

“Diolle, I have already discussed it with the Magister, Lieutenant Sokola, and Lieutenant Dorin. I have other reasons than just gaining experience for sending the two of you. I figured I would need to convince you, that just an order wouldn’t be enough. I assume you will listen?”

Franz gave her an unsteady nod, face flushed.

“For Martine, I plan to use that contact of yours as your method of passing through the Spine Cities. The merchant Traveler you befriended?”

It was Jean’s turn to get flustered, as he blurted out a question.

“Who- do you mean Henri? How do you mean?”

“Yes. We have already sent out someone to contact him. He was reported to be in the Southern Entrance Zone of the Spine Cities, so if he agrees you all will meet him there. He regularly makes trips through the Spine Cities delivering grain, weapons and gems, so you and Sokola will act as hired guards for his merchandise. We are relying on you to mediate with the merchant Henri, as you are already friends. Diolle, given his experience before joining the Guard, will act as an apprentice merchant until you reach the Northern Entrance Zone, where you three will leave him and fulfill your mission. Lieutenant Dorin will act as temporary First Lieutenant in your absence, Martine.”

Jean was thought about the situation, about seeing the merchant he’d befriended a while back. Another Traveler who had arrived in Draughton a few years after Jean, Henri had come from Earth as well; from France on top of that, Jean’s homeland. Henri, a merchant in his previous life, had gotten to know his fellow Frenchman while gathering funds to continue his trade in this new world, even if the difference in language between a 21st century french speaker like Jean and one from the 19th century had been an odd hurdle to overcome.

“Ca-Captain Elspen, with all due respect, that’s all well and good, but what about Mia? I can’t, I mean, I shouldn't just leave-”

“.........Franz, calm down. I understand your connection with this dragon, at least in some way, but that’s the other reason for this assignment. Wixon, Trakov, Lunia and I… believe it best to lessen involvement with this ‘Mia’.”

Jean stared at the Captain’s face, her expression gentler than any he’d seen on her as she spoke to Franz. Magister Wixon’s expression was not his usual carefree grin either, but was instead entirely unreadable, his arms crossed and back rigid.

“But that order, it said to maintain contact, to continue what we’re doing, that breaking communications could be disastrous-”

“I know what it said, and what I said. You should understand then how sensitive this mission in the north is if I’m willing to ignore those consequences? You introduced Mrs. Miller to the dragon earlier today, correct? While you are away, this ‘Mia’ will have no shortage of people to talk to. The Miller family, Lunia, or Wixon can all keep her company if it becomes a problem. Of course I am worried, but the dragons living among the shadows of this land have stayed silent for 500 years, we have much more immediate problems to deal with.”

Franz opened and shut his mouth several times, at a loss for words. Jean saw him look to him and Trakov for help, and to even Wixon, but the only one who met his eyes was the Magister, who gave him an expressionless look. Looking back to Captain Elspen, she addressed Franz again.

“May I remind you, Diolle, that you were never supposed to find out about the dragon’s nest? Did you forget so soon a punishment was coming?”

“No…”

“Then you have your orders, guardsman. You all do. It will be some time before you depart: not for a few weeks while we settle things with the merchant Henri. Martine, I entrust you with informing this dragon that you and Diolle will be away for some time due to work. Dismissed.”

Jean saluted the Captain and Magister Wixon, and looked to Trakov, who nodded and mouthed ‘a moment’. Jean then took Franz’s elbow, shoved open the heavy oak door and steered him out of the room.

Trakov, once the two sets of footsteps had mostly receded, looked at Magister Wixon dulled eyes and then to Captain Elspen.

“Ma’am?”

“Trakov, you know what you need to do. I’m sorry for making you handle this.”

“Not at all, Captain, it is my duty.” Trakov saluted, nodded his head to the Magister, and left the room to catch up with the younger guards.

The door gave a heavy CLUNK as it fell into place, the two remaining people in the Captain’s office letting the silence grow for several minutes. It was the fire mage who spoke first, stroking his beard.

“That was quite the show, Aida. You were never one to be so informal with subordinates.”

The Captain of the Guard watched him approach and lean on her desk’s edge facing the door, and she ran a hand through her braided greying hair.

“I think I was right to never have children, Wixon. I’d be right shit at it.”

Wixon barked out a short laugh, edges of his mouth turning into a sympathetic smile.

“You showing affection is worse than watching a Dullahan try to sail, Aida. Once you hit my age it only gets worse, mind you.”

Captain Elspen gave the old Archmage a sideways squint and grunted.

“I thought I was so smart for not having kids too. But at my age, Aida, no one even listens to you. And the kids all have grandkids, hoho.”

“Unlike you, I don’t go around looking for apprentices to call my grandchildren.”

The mage gave her a cheery grin over his shoulder, letting a comfortable silence rise between them once more. This time, it was the grizzled Guard Captain who broke it.

“I just wished I knew this was the right decision. For Franz, for Jean, Hells, for the Kingdom…”

“You’re telling me, I wish I could’ve just asked a single question about the dragons when I was in the capital. That diviner Elf would’ve helped, one way or another.”

“You know those seers never take personal requests, Wixon.”

“It’s a matter of state, I could’ve done something…”

“You definitely know how expensive a single question would be, even countries richer than ours have to choose what they ask carefully. Besides, knowing you, you would’ve wasted the question asking after some useless magical artifact.”

The mage leapt from his seat on the desk, spinning around with an innocent grin on his face, his arms spread to look at the Captain.

“Aida, dear, I’m better than that, you’ve known me for how long now?”

“Long enough to see all your hair fall out, at least,” she grumbled.

“Ohohoho, don’t jostle my memory too much, I might remember how you stared at me back in the day, I always could tell!”

“Pff, I just wanted to see that red hair before it was gone like everyone else, don’t flatter yourself.”

Aida gave the Magister a tight smile, tired from everything save for lack of sleep, and stood up from her desk.

“I’ll let you handle your side of things then. I’ll have my hands full managing the city with two of my officers gone.”

“Of course, Lunia and I’ll take care of it. I’ll have your First Lieutenant introduce me to this ‘Mia’ soon. It’s about time.”

“I suppose it is, Wixon.”

The Archmage walked to the door, one hand stroking his white beard thoughtfully. He placed two fingers of his free hand on the oak door and pushed. It swung open with ease, and he turned to say his farewell.

“Always a pleasure, my lady.”

He closed the door absentmindedly with a hand, hearing a snort as it shut. Giving his bushy goatee one last tug, he folded both arms into the folds of his robes and began walking back to his own office and assistant. By the time he exited the Guard’s headquarters, his mind was already someplace else, pondering the nature of a dragon’s magic, how his own flames might compare to the legends of yore, or if that whelp’s dissertation from the capital could be tied to a lizard’s much removed, much larger, and much more dangerous cousin.

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It was nearing dusk when the dragon began her gradual descent, her scales seemingly changing every moment between a burnt red and a regal gold. Meeting my brother’s eyes, we both peeked over the side of Rehm’s frame, and were met with sparsely scattered woods rising and falling gently over lazy hills. Stone and dirt mixed in the areas not covered by the canopy, and a glance up made it abundantly clear how far we had flown in just a day: the rising wall of the Dragonspine Mountains were close enough to begin making out the details of the steep cliff faces.

Eventually Rehm landed, gracefully finding an opening in the woods as we hopped from her back. Rested and a bit sore from a day’s worth of laying around, both of us stretched as Rehm walked forward. My brother following just behind her tail, I fluttered around through the air, not satisfied with just riding through the air all day. Rising up to see past my mother’s crimson scales, I saw what I knew to be the entrance to where our gathering would be held.

A massive arc of rock, the gateway to a cavern sunk halfway into the earth, covered with stubborn shrubs and trees hanging precariously from the cracks between stones, opened and leading deeper underground into blackness. Staying behind Mother, we were led down into the cave, our eyes adjusting instantly from the gloom of the evening outside to the pitch blackness of the inside. We made our way down the sloped tunnel, tall enough and wide enough for at least a dragon or two to pass by comfortably. I glanced at the walls, and from floor to ceiling every surface radiated a faint essence of mana, unknown yet familiar. I spotted several side passages, but it seemed no one else was here; at least, until we reached the end of the main passage, as Rehm turned her head back and addressed us quietly.

“We are early, but not the first. Children, we must greet the Elder. Follow.”

She moved forward, as delicately as I had ever seen her walk. Giving my brother a pat on his scaly head, we both followed, as the inner room’s entrance gave way to a sprawling cavern, several times wider than our home, with translucent black stalactites glowing above us. We made our way silently to the far end of the cave, where a single dragon waited, laying atop the center platform of five raised beds of granite. Stopping in front of the dragon, Rehm, on all fours, curved her neck downwards, tail matching the motion, and we copied her. As we bowed, I took in the creature in front of me.

Even laying down as it was, head and tail curling towards us, I could see the age and wisdom marking its scales. They shone faintly in the pale light that emanated from the hanging stalactites, each scale an individual work of art carved from crystal. As the dragon shifted its lithe body, I could see it was smaller than Rehm, both in length and weight, but not in presence. Standing up on its hindlegs, two translucent silver wings outstretched, the Elder looked from Rehm, to my brother, and to me. Its eyes, two intelligent orbs the same icy silver as its scales, met my fascinated gaze. On any human, no, on any other creature, the hue of its eyes would have led me to assume it blind; but from one look I felt as though the Elder could see everything about me, about all of us. Turning its gaze back to Rehm, the Elder spoke out to all three dragons of my family in a quiet voice, shattering the blanket of silence that had settled over the room.

“Welcome, young ones. As long as I breathe, welcome.”