Chapter 8

Plots While the Dragon Sleeps

A man with brown short hair and green eyes had his face in front of Ornias and blocked most of his peripheral vision. In the distance however, he could make out many other people who were gathered around.

But for some reason this man in particular seemed to have a weird pull on him. It was as if this man was important, and everything he was, existed because of this man.

The realization hit him and he thought, “This is my father, my real father.” A joy filled him and Ornias tried to say, “Father”, but no words seemed to come out.

Everything he saw was like a flash of images in sequence and the man was moving his mouth but the words coming out of it seemed odd and he didn’t understand them. A frown showed on the man’s face and the whole world seemed to move as his face drifted away.

The scenery seemed to change and worry filled Ornias as it did so but suddenly a woman’s face was replaced in his immediate vision. She was a gorgeous woman with beautiful blonde hair and blue sparkling eyes. As sounds came out of her mouth, they seemed soothing and calmed his troubled heart.

A warm feeling rushed into his body and he felt a powerful connection to this woman. This must be my mother he realized. All this was just so strange to him. He felt that they were his parents but what of Azon and Cecilia.

In an attempt to gaze elsewhere Ornias attempted to look away but found that he didn’t have proper control over the rest of his body. His head felt heavy and sluggish and he was able to only slightly move his fingers.

Straining himself, when he did manage to view his own body, he found that he was in the body of a baby. Yet that was not the most shocking thing since his body was enveloped in a white light.

The light seemed to hug him and looking closer he realized that it was not just white light at all. In fact his hand seemed to be tightly griping what looked like a bright white hand and there was a hazy figure that was embracing him while holding his hand.

It was a semitransparent figure and it was merging itself slowly with his small body. As soon as the apparition noticed Ornias seemed mentally aware, a conscious response resounded within his mind from the ghostly figure.

“Child… you have quite the powerful mind already, but sadly you will most likely not remember these events. What you see now is a fragment of my soul. I was once an ancient power but my soul was shattered into fragments. If you wish to see my past I will show you…”

The images of events around him slowed down to a standstill as if time itself stopped. In its place the world transformed and instead of seeing flashing images he started to view things like they were through his own eyes.

What Ornias was viewing was past events from when he was a new born baby. Memories of birth are typically forgotten but recent events re-awoke these memories. As these dreamlike images surged through his head, he remained in an unresponsive coma.

During his comatose state, when he tried to call out to his real father in the coma, he had said father out loud in reality. Just like Azon had told Ornias, he was willing to end his trial prematurely without hesitation as long as Ornias asked him to do so.

As the word, “Father”, left his lips, he sealed his fate. If any chance of him passing the trial was possible before, now that Azon knocked him out, it caused those connections to fail.

With using a simple forceful chop of his hand, Azon knocked the pain ridden Ornias into a complete form of unconsciousness. His mind was now severed from completing the trial, with a very minimal possibility of future reconnection, and an evener high possibility of impaired future functionality.

In desperation, Azon even used a speed technique to move his foster son’s body into his own room. As he stared down at the unconscious Ornias all he saw was his tiny chest move up and down as he breathed and all other functionality was now gone.

There were sores and blood still covered all over his body. The state he was in was absolutely pitiable. Azon was a nervous wreck, but he tried to calm himself down. There was one thing that he had to do that was going to be rather difficult and he needed to explain it properly.

He left the bedroom and quickly tried his best to find and tell Cecilia what occurred. She was in the kitchen cooking dinner in preparation for when they would be done with training. Azon gritted his teeth and approached her.

When Azon first entered the house and place Ornias in his room he was using a special enhancing speed technique that was too fast for her to see. Noises were certainly made but without the sight of the activity she would pass it off as just the noises coming from the house.

Now that he was not using any form of speed technique, she could hear him creep behind her. Smiling, she turned around and put down the knife she was using to cut the vegetables for dinner.

Lifting her finger up and shaking it, she said, “Don’t even think about it. I’m not going to let you grab a snack to eat yet again, while you let poor Ornias suffer through your evil training methods.”

An uncomfortable emotion swirled within Azon as he gulped, and said nervously, “Um… Honey… I don’t know how to say this…”

In a fluid motion Cecilia pulled off her cooking apron and smacked it down on the table. Anger peered through her gaze as she said, “Don’t play foul jokes on me Azon. I already told you, that you are not eating until Ornias gets to eat tonight.”

He raised his hand up outstretched denying the accusation, while saying, “It’s not like that Cecilia. Ornias… He…his Trial…I just couldn’t do anything… so I put him in his room.”

With him just barely mentioning Ornias entering his trial, Cecilia didn’t listen to any further explanation and exploded into a frantic run into her son’s room. When Azon re-entered his room, Cecilia was huddled over his body and was weeping.

Greif and anguish was all that could be felt as Azon placed his hand on her shoulder and tried to comfort her. But in a misguided attempt to place blame she shrugged off his hand and stood up.

Her lips quivered, and she said with a tear stained face, “You…”

“This is because of you…” She said, as she placed all the blame upon him.

Lightly hitting Azon with her feeble fists, she wailed, “It’s your fault… It’s all your fault!”

The act of hitting him was an aversion and denial to the truth of the matter. She couldn’t see how to release her current emotions any other way. But it didn’t mean anything against a sixth rank warrior, and Azon grabbed both her wrists in an attempt to stop the punches.

Unable to hit him anymore out of anger, she slumped her head against as his body, as she declared, “You have to save him!”

Helplessness consumed his body as Azon asked, “What can I do to save him?”

Wiggling out of his grip, Cecilia stood back a ways and berated him, by yelling, “Well you had better find a way. He is in this condition because you didn’t train him in how to pass his first trial.”

Shaking his head, he said, “It was not just his first trial, if I am correct he had three trials simultaneously.”

Her fists tightened against her side as she screamed, “Fool, you should have taught him to not do something so stupid as to attempt multiple trials.”

At a loss for words, he started, “I…”

However he had no way to combat her claims, since the claims were quite accurate. The most he could do was to reach out and seek for aid, and hope that Clan Fortis, or someone else takes pity on his situation.

Feelings of utter uselessness entered his mind, and slumping down on a chair, he sat in a daze with his hand on his head. The world was spinning out of his control. His original plan to restore his reputation, and get reinstated as a Prime Duke within the Azarasi nobles, was now far from reach.

“I will send out a request for help, dear.” Azon said disdainfully.

He knew that there would be another high cost for his request. Last time he had to fork out secret information on how to cultivate two precious techniques he had stolen as a kid. Those techniques were a trivial matter though because the body had to be trained specifically for those techniques or they could not be used. But now what could he give?

Remorse filled his gut, and raising his head, he said, “There is always a price for these things, but for Ornias, and for your sake, I will do it.”

It wouldn’t do any good to stay mad, so Cecilia softened her voice as she replied, “As long as we can make him better, I don’t care what the price is.”

That following morning, Azon wrote an urgent letter requesting for aid from Duke Chalmon. This was a desperate attempt in order to help his son reawaken from a failed trial. He then enlisted the aid of several second rank and third rank warriors to deliver the letter within a reasonable amount of time.

Many of these men were those, Azon personally counted on. They were bandits whose achievements stood out the most. Men like Framor, Brumar, and Zalgon, were those he relied on.

However, even with these men that he appointed, delivering a letter depended upon the quality of those sent to take it. With anyone under the fourth rank it usually took a month to arrive in Caelestis, given the dangers involved.

These men left on their journey, and sure enough, a month passed by before they arrived in Caelestis. The city was a grand spectacle, even more so than Domington the so called gateway to Gramrot, which was the center of the Church’s foundations.

This was because it was here that humanity had restarted from those ten thousand years ago. The big walls still stood as menacing as ever and although ten thousand years have passed signs of war like history was evident upon those walls.

As soon as the men entered through the heavily guarded gates to the city, they decided to split up. Because the other men wanted to explore the grand city of Caelestis, they left Framor with the task of delivering the letter personally.

The city was the largest city in Tolboud so navigating it was a slight pain. Luckily carriage drivers were always parked by the city gates specifically for new arrivals. So calling up a driver Framor tossed him a few coins and asked to go to Duke Chalmon’s Estate.

As he arrived in the carriage, the man who received Framor into the mansion was not Chalmon but Vanrus. As son to Chalmon and of the noble ranking of baron, Framor had no choice but to let Vanrus read the letter.

As Vanrus skimmed over the message he laughed bitterly at the irony in the situation. Unknowingly, recent events have suddenly favored Azon, but his son was now a cripple.

As Vanrus laughed and he thought of how to respond to the current situation, his father arrived in the room. Although Chalmon noticed the letter in his hands, he saw Framor standing nearby and sought to greet an old friend.

Grinning and opening his arms in receiving manner, Chalmon hugged Framor, and said, “Ah… I was just about to write a letter out to Azon. It seems good fortune that you are here, my good friend Framor.”

“...You were about to write a letter?” Confusion filled Framor’s face.

Laughing with a hearty smile, Chalmon nodded and said, “My good man, have you not yet heard word? They seek to reinstate, Azon’s former nobility ranking of duke!”

Puzzlement was suddenly overcome with a sudden insight, as he said, “Duke…Don’t tell me…”

Slapping Framor on the back, Chalmon grinned and said, “Indeed, he has a wonderful foster daughter who has caught the attention of the Church. She is to be called from now on, Countess Rana Fortis.”

“It sickens me that his honor gets restored due to someone else’s actions.” Vanrus muttered.

A, “Tch…” sound was heard, as Chalmon struck out a glare at his son, and said, “It is not our call but the Church’s. The fact that they are even considering Rana, as a promising prospect, is good for our clan.”

“That is indeed fortuitous news, but unfortunately, I arrive with rather bad news.” Framor said, as he shook his head with a down casted attitude.

“What’s this?” Chalmon asked, and then stared at the letter in his son’s grip.

A silence spread between the men and he grabbed the letter from Vanrus and started to read. Looking over the entirety of the message, he sighed and thought, “Seems karma must keep equivalent balances in all things.”

After hearing the sigh, Vanrus interjected his father’s thoughts by saying, “You are not truly going to aid his crippled son are you?”

A bleak grimace formed on his face, and Chalmon said, “With his former rank as the Prime Duke of Clan Fortis being restored, I have no choice now.”

The difference was between a regular duke and a Prime Duke was the privilege to have seat in line for the throne. It must be known that Chalmon was also considered a Prime Duke since he was third in line for the throne.

Stumbling back a ways, Vanrus was thinking hard about ways to divert the current situation. He combed his hand through his long blonde hair, puzzling over the matter before he reached a solution.

“Ah… wait”, Vanrus smirked while replying, “Getting his rank restored means he can’t avoid being directly involved in the upcoming war, isn’t that correct?”

Confusion filled the faces of both Chalmon and Framor. The bias Vanrus had for Azon was indeed public to everyone but the man himself, but both men wondered where he was going with this question. The brows on Chalmon furrowed, as he understood his son was up to no good.

The question was indeed curious however, and Chalmon replied, “I suppose that is correct, why do you ask?”

A sadistic grin appeared, and Vanrus prided himself as a genius as he said, “Well… if he truly wants to restore his previous position as the Prime Duke, why not make him help initiate the war, and prove his worth?”

The realization hit Chalmon as he thought, “Azon’s status has not yet been approved by the council.”

Because of Rana’s quick rise to the third rank of a warrior over the course of just a year, she had brought the attention of the Church. Yet upon their discovery of her as Azon’s foster child, they quickly sought to rectify old hatreds, in the attempt to bring her into their fold.

Unfortunately, unless the current king or great ancestor himself steps in, the raising of status takes time. It will require, not only the pressure from the church, but the consent of the current king’s council of Prime Dukes.

Nodding his head in agreement, Chalmon said, “Hmm… that does seem fair. I will speak with the other nobles. I have some sway with the current Prime Dukes, and a leader who has no involvement in our plans does indeed, not belong.”

An entire month passed before Chalmon was able to get a satisfactory assignment for Azon in return for his son’s aid. During this time, not only did Framor and his company stay with them but they were bound by magic oath to keep what was spoken secret as they returned with the reply.

If by chance they tried to reveal any information regarding the past couple of days, a memory wipe would be instantly casted from the magic brand. It would erase everything within a year’s time frame of their stay at Chalmon’s residence.

As Framor was on his way back with Chalmon’s reply, Ornias turned seven. Although he was still in a coma, Cecilia treated him well. She would often sit in his room next to his bedside and hope he would wake up.

Grasping his hand, and feeling a faint warmth from it, she said, “It’s your seventh birthday, sweetie. I have a new book to read to you today. I hope you enjoy it.”

The book was titled the Dungeon Master and it was a very interesting tale about a man conquering many dangerous dungeons. Cecilia had taken care to continue reading to Ornias just like she did when he was a young child. Every day she would sit in a worn out chair, and read to him, hoping he would at some point break through his coma.

His eyes shifted as he remained in the coma-like state, but no further improvements were made. It was as if he was just a lifeless corpse rotting away day by day. A mage had been hired that could force water and nutrition into his body, but when the mage was not around nothing could be done.

Almost a full month passed by after Ornias turned seven and finally Framor and the other men arrived with the response. Luckily Azon was home, and taking the return letter from them, he dismissed the men. He then moved into the study as he read the response as fast as he could.

However, what he read only angered him, and he smashed nearby furniture, causing quite the commotion. The sounds of things breaking interrupted Cecilia’s daily readings, and she came into the study to see what the fuss was about.

When she arrived, Azon stopped his tantrum, and attempted calming himself. Puffing out hot air from his nostrils, he said furiously, “As you know, I wrote a letter about the situation. The requirements however, are that I fulfill a series of assignments before I can receive aid from the nobles.”

A calm soothing tone suppressed his anger as she touched his arm, and said, “Darling, do what you have to for his sake. He’s just rotting away at this rate, if there is a way; I want you to take it.”

He calmed down, and touching her hand with his, he said, “Perhaps he may still wake up, so I want you to stay here with him as I complete this assignment.”

What troubled him however was not just from this bit of information. The anger just now was also because of the remaining part of the letter. It was both good and bad news.

Guiding the weary and pale faced Cecilia to sit, Azon gazed lovingly at her and said, “There is more… After I accomplish these tasks I must go to Caelestis.”

Confusion entered her face, but Azon continued, “Rana has achieved what I can only dream of… the church has extended their goodwill towards us once again and seeks to restore my nobility.”

Excitement ran through her, and the pale color from her face brightened, as she said, “This is terrific news. Rana has achieved something wonderful for us.”

Azon shook his head, and said, “Not necessarily, she and I will obtain nobility, but it comes with a price. After Ornias is healed, I am sure they will use me as a pawn in their war games.

With a clenched fist, he said, “My position of Prime Duke always was a coveted position assigned to me by the Great Ancestor of the five great clans. Other Prime Dukes and those within their circle will try to remove or handicap me. We need to be careful from now on.”

Cecilia understood the dire straits of the situation and replied solemnly, “I understand”

Grabbing Cecilia’s hand, Azon said, “I will leave immediately and I hope these missions prior to our conquest of Tolboud is quick and easy to deal with. Maybe Ornias will wake up before I am done and all this will be for naught.”

Squeezing Azon’s hand, Cecilia said, “We can hope.”

She stood up gave him a tight hug and said, “Go see your son before you leave, and bid him farewell.”

So before leaving, Azon knelt by his son’s bedside gripped his hand tightly before giving him a powerful embrace. He then swore an oath to heal him by his tenth birthday then afterwards he turned around and left the house with a large company of the Crimson Claw Bandits.

Over the next several months he would perform a series of missions that would pave the way for the future conquest of the Tolboud kingdom and many were quite dangerous. It wasn’t easy but Azon utilized his wit and skill to accomplish them.

Time seemingly flew by and waiting for Ornias to wake up didn’t pan out as well as Azon had hoped. The missions took a considerable amount of time and nine months passed by.

Finishing up the last mission, he was allowed to return home before departing to Caelestis. He took this time to be with Cecilia and Ornias for a week. Then on the seventh day he departed for Caelestis.

The journey there was long and treacherous but because Azon succeeded in entering the sixth rank, he was able to cut the time frame down to two weeks. As he arrived he sized up the city and noticed that the appearance of the city didn’t change a whole lot since his exile. However, the people who dwelled within the grand estates lining the roads had changed drastically due to the internal power struggles.

Walking through the grand gates several powerful figures seemed to have already detected his arrival and stopped him. It has to be known that anyone higher than the fourth rank is considered an expert cultivator, so this was normal.

Having obtained the sixth rank as a warrior of course men who could sense his aura wanted to know who he was. Out of the men to greet him, one was a disciple member of the Church of Ascension.

This man approached Azon, and said, “I sense you are a powerful warrior of at least the sixth rank. I don’t recognize you or your aura, so I must ask what your business is here in Caelestis.”

With a glance Azon could tell this man was strong as well and could be ranked close or equivalent to his own rank, so he knew it was best not to antagonize the unknown individual.

“My name is Azon, and the reason behind this visit is to seek council with Duke Chalmon.” He said with a calm and cool response.

Shock appeared on the man’s face, and he said, “You are Azon? Ah…So I take it, you have heard the news about your daughter’s achievements. You will shortly be reinstated to your form rank given time, I can assure you.”

A polite bow came from the man, as he said, “If you seek to visit your daughter at Chalmon’s Estate by all means I will not keep you.” He then moved away and forced the other men that were curious about Azon to leave as well.

Azon was gratefully for the respect he was showed by the Church’s disciple and quickly called for a carriage driver. The driver took a single gold coin from him and led with haste to Chalmon’s residence.

When Azon arrived he knocked on the door and waited for a while before a butler opened the door. He was lead further into the estate where Duke Chalmon was already waiting for Azon.

As he made his way across the room, both men smirked and Chalmon had a strange proud gleam in his eyes. He was looking at the man he hadn’t seen in years, his best friend Azon.

In a singular symbiotic motion, Chalmon and Azon clasped their hands, and moved to embrace each other tightly. A strong bond was once between these two men and only politics and greed separated them now.

Hesitant, Azon asked, “Chalmon… About Ornias…”

Just then a powerful aura was felt, and a gorgeous young lady walked down the central staircase towards them. Radiance shined off Rana as she appeared to glide with grace and ferocity. The achievement of a fourth ranked warrior was a feat none could boast in a two year span of cultivation.

“Let’s not talk of this at the moment, Azon.” Chalmon hushed.

Surprise entered Azon, as he had only heard she was a third rank warrior. What type of sickening speed was this that a twelve year old girl had reached the fourth rank?

“Rana…” Azon stammered, “Is that you…”

Laughing with delight in her eyes, Rana said, “Indeed father, I am strong now and it’s all thanks to you.”

A smile beamed across his face, and a tear welled up in his eye. She had single handedly restored his honor. It was amazing that such a young beautiful woman was that powerful, but the most shocking thing was that she was Azon’s foster Daughter.

Azon had rocked the foundation of the five great clans many years ago with his surprising cultivation but now his daughter was even scarier. This made him very proud. The fact that a cold calculating man like him had raised a daughter like her could definitely be said to change a man.

Azon spoke his true feelings were said as he said, “That’s wonderful news dear, Cecelia and I am already so proud of you. But now you surprise me yet again with achieving the fourth rank. I can’t even explain it in words.”

A mischievous gleam sparkled in her eyes, and she smirked while saying, “I’m even stronger than Vanrus in a mock battle.”

As if on cue, Vanrus had entered the main room just those words were said and his face slightly flushed. That was a confirmation that what she said was in fact the truth. Since they were both in the fourth rank it was easy to be embarrassed by a getting beaten by someone younger.

A hearty laugh escaped Azon’s lips after hearing that, and he asked, “Is this really true Vanrus?”

A nervous meek smile appeared on Vanrus, and using this uncomfortable incident, he said, “Ah… well…um… I have other business that’s needs attending, so if you’ll pardon me.”

In a hurried speed he left the mansion as laughter followed him out. After leaving Vanrus scowled and clenched his fist while gritting his teeth at the embarrassment. He hated that man so much, Rana was tolerable, but not Azon.

He took a carriage and ordered the carriage driver to take him into the deeper market areas of the city. This was a dangerous area but regardless of the peril, after arriving to the rather shifty location he got out of the carriage and walked down into an alley.

Suddenly a strange man with a gold and green cloak appeared from the shadows and said, “You kept me waiting too long. I know you are a busy man, but I am too.”

Reaching into his side pocket, Vanrus pulled out a letter, and said, “Hand this note over to the Kyros clan; it’s strictly for the eyes of Teronus only.”

“Of course”, the strange man replied.

As the strange man vanished back into the shadows, Vanrus grinned. The contents within that note would spell Azon’s doom. In conjunction with convincing his father to send Azon on the mission to start the war, the contents of the note would ensure the removal of him.

With that he felt that things would finally fall into place for him, and he headed back to the mansion. Once he arrived, Rana had already retreated back to her room, while Chalmon and Azon were discussing the situation with Ornias.

The discussion of Azon having to initiate the war after his son’s recovery seemed to have already been discussed. This caused a grin to appear on Vanrus since there was no evidence to implicate himself in Azon’s downfall.

Through tidbits of picked up conversation, Vanrus concluded that the Mage calling himself, Greystorm, would accompany Azon back and aid in healing Ornias. Yet just as discussion was wrapping up, Vanrus quickly interjected.

An attempt at sincerity was made as Vanrus said, “I will also accompany you, Azon. I want to visit your son and show my respect to you for being my former Commander”

Grabing Vanrus by the arm and clasping him in a reminiscent hug, Azon said, “I would enjoy your company. You are a skilled individual, and I could still use you around.”

Then leaning forward and whispering in his ear, he asked, “Oh… did you end up learning those techniques I provided you?”

Anger surged through Vanrus but he suppressed it and laughed instead, and said, “No, It seems I can only ever look up to you as mighty figure that could learn such powerful techniques.”

A satisfied glint appeared in Azon’s eye because he did not want anyone else to achieve merit from those secrets. They had become his trait of power after all, and if others could so easily duplicate it then it would be bad for his image.

He shook his head, and said, “Ah… that’s too bad.” With a clap of his hand he changed subjects and said, “Well we best head off then, as I’m in a slight hurry, I want to make it before Ornias turns ten and heal him.”

Using the power of a noble Chalmon gathered around twenty men to accompany Azon, Vanrus, and Greystorm. The journey took a turn for the worst however as bandits seemed to attack continuously and slowed them down. They still had a week till Ornias turned eight luckily and they just crossed over the Librest mountain range and headed through Valmor Forest.

Valmor forest was not far from Fengle’s Forest, but a strong powerful monster in the seventh rank suddenly appeared. It was a griffin with a missing eye that seemed to have been eaten by another beast.

Fury burned in Azon, and he yelled, “Hurry and run everyone!”

If they were delayed any longer he wouldn’t be able to keep his promise to his son. Yet, this beast was a rank higher than even he was. Not many beasts this powerful came out in the open but when they did it was hard to not sustain casualties even if you flee.

The men scattered but the griffin was quick and swiped his talons killing one of the escorts instantly. The griffin then looked the group over, analyzing who was the strongest, spotted Azon and pounced.

The beast was too powerful and it smashed Azon against the ground trapping him with his talons. The situation looked grim and Vanrus and Greystorm were out of sight. Noticing no one else was around; Azon realized he most likely had to find a way out of this one for himself.