The high, white and grey stone walls of Ilian towered well above anything that Alaric has ever seen. He felt like every new city that they visited brought even more wonder and amazement.

A dozen roads joined together several miles from the gate. After the junction, the roads had been packed with people. All shoulder to shoulder, bumping and pushing both to and from the large city.

The guards leading the party were not gentle as they pushed through the crowd. Most got out of the way of the ground once they recognized the crest of the Moats family waving above the guard at the front.

The Hammer and Anvil was the name of the emblem. It had been chosen to remind the Moats family of their heritage. They came from a small blacksmith family that had been chosen to be one of the founding Noble families. Most that came to Ilian could recognize most of the noble crests. Crossing noble families seemed to never end well.

Alaric was grateful for the time that he was able to spend with Lord Moats. Between the jovial Lord and Tyron, Alaric was comfortable that he could at least survive his first few days in Ilian.

The group traveled silently to the group. Even if anyone had anything to say, the noise of the traffic was much too loud around them to be able to hear.

The gates were wide enough for ten wagons to fit through side by side with ease. Nearly a hundred guards stood at the entrance. They stopped every passerby to check wares and to learn the purpose of visits. It made Alaric wonder how many people lied their way in. It couldn’t have been too hard.

A shout from one of the guards informed the others nearby that a noble was approaching the gate. All traffic nearly came to an immediate halt as guards ran through the crowd to the group.

The crowd was forced to part by the remaining guards, creating a large, clear walkway for the group. The guards on foot jogged along both sides of the group. Alaric thought it was strange, but they were simply watching the crowd. They were watching for any potential trouble that might come from the large gathering.

The guards that waited at the entrance nodded as the group rode past. They knew better than to stop a lord, even one as kind as Lord Moats.

The escort that ran alongside the group continued through the entire city all of the way to the keep. The crowds continued nearly all the way as well, but word for the crowds to part spread quickly. They all seemed used to the process. It made Alaric wonder how often nobles came and went from the keep inside Ilian.

The castle built in the center of the city climbed above even the walls around the city. Alaric was sure that no natural thing grew that high except for the mountains near Baerlon.

A smaller wall surrounded the castle. The walls were still much taller than other buildings in the city. The doors into the smaller walls were guarded by men more armed and threatening than the gates into the city.

The only helmed man had a longsword strapped onto his back much like Alaric’s massive sword sat on his own back. The man’s armor was darker grey than normal steel. It was nearly black and stood out greatly among the other guards.

The man didn’t seem to care that the approaching party was waving a noble flag. He walked casually toward the group and waved for them to stop.

Lord Moats pushed his way through the crowd to meet the man. Once they were close enough to hear each other, Lord Moats spoke. “Dyal, how are you on this fine day?” It seemed that Lord Moats never noticed inconvenience.

Alaric enjoyed how happy the large man was, but he knew that he could never maintain that type of cheer. It had to be exhausting.

“Welcome to Ilian, Lord Moats. What business brings you?” came a young, yet gruff voice in reply. Alaric thought that Dyal sounded to be close to the same age as himself.

“Young Lord Dyal that is my business and well as you know. Your father would not receive news of you pestering Lords well, but it can be our secret today.” Lord Moats chuckled.

The man seemed to straighten. Alaric thought that it was weird for a Lord to be guarding the gates of the castle, but he knew that he understood little of the way of nobles.

The young lord eyed the rest of the group before resting his eyes on Alaric. “What is your name, boy?”

Lord Moats laughter roared mockingly at Dyal. “You have little room to call Alaric a boy. You are less than a handful of years older than him. If you must know my business, I am bringing that man that you called boy to the king. He has been chosen by the dragon priestess in our group of friends.”

Alaric didn’t think that Dyal could straighten anymore than he already had, but somehow he managed to. “I- I’m sorry Lord Alaric. It would seem that I do not know my place.”

Alaric didn’t know how to reply to a Lord humbled simply by his presence. He simply nodded at the man. He hoped that would be enough.

The man stiffly walked back the the gate shouting orders at the guard there. They all scrambled to follow the order and opened the gates for the group.

Lord Moats maintained his lead. The guards that rode with the group took the all of the horses once they crossed through the gate. Lord Moats, the Hunters, and Alaric walked the short distance from the gate to the castle’s great doors.

The great doors were white with faint impressions of roses that budded and blossomed as they climbed up the doors. The impressions were so faint that Alaric couldn’t see them until he stood only a few feet away. The stone on either side of the door was grey, but the rest of the castle used the same white stone.

There were no knobs or handles on the large door. Lord Moats pushed on the doors, and they glided open in response to his push. It was amazing to Alaric that the doors were light enough to be pushed open so easily.

The door opened into a small chamber. A large wood and steel door sat directly in front of the entrance. Hallways opened up on both sides that curved quickly out of view. The halls were wide enough for half a dozen people to fit side by side comfortably.

The door in front of them had an intricate bear carved into it. Alaric had seen fine carving from some of the older men in Baerlon, but this was far beyond anything that he had seen at home. Were it not obviously carved into the wood, he would have jumped at the open jaw that looked to be reaching toward him.

He reached out to touch the carving on the door, but Darren grabbed his wrist and shook his head. “Don’t touch things that are not yours.”

Alaric pulled his wrist away. He hadn’t meant to do anything wrong, but he would try to mind the things that he tried to touch.

Lord Moats rapped on the side of the door. He was careful not to touch the carving at all.

After a few silent seconds, the door made a loud crack and then swung open slowly. The man at the door met the group with a flat, impatient stare. He was tall and slim without a crease in his face. He looked older than Orven or even Darren.

The man’s voice was smooth and soft. “Darren Moats, you know that you should not interrupt us when the door to the Judgement Hall is closed except when truly necessary. Our King will have some sharp thoughts to share with you surely.”

The man’s face grew into a cruel smile at that thought. He continued,”Hunters also should know better. Maybe I can convince King Arthfael to have my way with you fools. I’ll teach you respect.”

Alaric clenched his fist. This man knew no respect for others. The Elders in Baerlon would take a man this rude regardless of age and make sure that he couldn’t sit for days.

Alaric realized that the man was staring at him intently. “Do you have something to say?” Alaric said defyingly. He heard a gasp behind him.

Before Alaric could blink a hand meant to remind him of his place stopped inches from his face. Darren has caught the man’s hand before he could hit Alaric.

The man stared with every ounce of hate that he had at Alaric. “No Hunter will talk to a High Lord like that. Before the night is over, I will have you hung from the….”

“Enough,” roared a voice from behind the High Lord. “Darren, my friend, bring our friends in. I tire of sitting with stiff old men that can’t see past the ends of their noses. Domayne come and sit, I decide my own business not you.” the voice said. The voice was gruff but warmth.

A soft chuckle came from another person behind Domayne.

The High Lord’s face of hate never changed, but he obeyed the voice begrudgingly.

The room was wide and deep. The walls and floors were all white. The stone had red and blue lines that crawled in every direction. Three long tables covered most of the floor from front to back. A large golden throne sat at the end of the room.

Three men sat at the center table. Charts, quills, and inkwells were scattered between the three men.

Alaric assumed that the group was made of the king and the other two High Lords. It was hard to tell which was the king.

Darren led. Alaric fell behind Erika and Nathaniel, just in front of Lilia and Chas. The group fanned out in front of the man and bowed. Alaric tried to imitate awkwardly. He clench his fist with his palm against his chest facing the sky and dipped his body low.

The man that sat alone dipped his head in response to the bows. “Formalities and fancies. Such is the life of a king,” the man said. His was the voice that had commanded the High Lord before.

High King Arthfael wasn’t much to look at. He wasn’t an ugly man, but he was also not handsome. He had dark, curling hair that fell to his shoulders. His eyes were grey and his beard was trimmed short and clean. His face was square and his nose was sharp, but his eyes looked curiously at the group.

“Darren and Tyron. What an interesting pair. It is unusual for Hunters to be escorted by Lord’s. What was done and who did it?” the King asked. Alaric thought he could seem amusement in the King’s eyes.

Erika stepped forward. She was met with looks of respect from each of the High Lords and the King. “Buel, I have found someone…. special. This young man, Alaric, from Baerlon. He must be taken to Ca’arnnathadhair.” She spoke with authority and each of the men’s faces changed as she spoke.

The heavily set one stroked his long beard thoughtfully while the other High Lord frowned. Domayne stared blankly at the woman. The king was smiling at her.

“It seems that the world keeps turning. It has been awhile since we had something like this. Longer than I can remember. Ca’arnnathadhair will appreciate the company surely,” the king said as he pushed himself to his feet.

The heavy set man looked at the king. “May we join you, my lord. It very well could be a few lifetimes before something like this happens again.”

The younger man next to him nodded in agreement. “Tis true. I would like to see the man and the beast speak.”

The High King nodded with a warm smile. “Of course. Markes, Ilkren, Darren you are welcome to view the ceremony. Domayne, I think it will do you good to come as well. Priestess Erika, please lead the way. The rest of you are welcome to find beds. Hunters are always welcome here.”

Erika nodded and walked past the group. King Arthfael and the High Lords followed. Darren patted Alaric on the shoulder and tilted his head.

Alaric felt lost. He thought he was finally ready to accept his fate, but he hadn’t thought a ceremony would be required to complete his ascension to a “Lord”.

Darren gently pushed Alaric forward. Alaric followed the group. He was lost in his thoughts. He hardly paid attention to where he was going.

High Lord D’varis and High Lord Intgarrson laughed and chatted with the King. They all seemed to be fast friends.

Darren walked silently behind the group with Alaric. His hand on the younger man’s back.

Domayne sulked behind the other High Lords.

The group stopped at a large door much like the entrance to the judgement hall. The carving was instead made of stone with the head of a horned lizard.

A dragon, Alaric realized. He had heard plenty of stories about them, but to see a depiction made him realize how little even the Elders in Baerlon knew of the beasts.

Erika ran her fingers gently along the nose of the beast. Once her fingers left the doorway, there was a loud click. The King stepped past the woman and pushed against the doorway.

It swung open slowly. Alaric wasn’t sure how the noblemen made opening such heavy door appear so easy. The sound of chains came from behind the darkness beyond the door.

Alaric was not prepared for the sight that he received once he entered the doorway. A large monstrosity laid on the ground in front of him.

The monstrosity’s horned head was only a few feet away from him. It’s head was easily twice his height. It’s eyes were over half Erika’s size. It’s muzzle had a spike on the end and two larger horns pointed back from the sides of the top of its head.

The beast’s face was covered in scales. The scales were all different shapes and sizes, the color was hard to see because of the darkness in the room.

The low rumble nearly shook the ground. It seemed as if the beast was growling at him. Then it opened its mouth. “Why do you disturb my slumber priestess?” The wind from the beast mouth bearly knocked everyone except for Erika over. The gust smelled of dust and decay.

The beast closed its eyes and shuddered as if in pain.

“Ca’arnnathadhair, you know your responsibility. You must honor the pact. Even if we interrupt your napping. You knew days ago that we were coming. Isnt that so?” Erika asked.

Alaric shifted uncomfortably. He had heard stories about the powers of dragons. No wise man or woman should talk so boldly to such a dangerous creature.

The rumble came again. This time the being spoke slowly and thoughtfully. “Priestess. I remember a time when I ate priestesses such as you. Though, your meat would be as sour as your sense of humor.” The beast blew out of its nose.

The dragon was met with silence.

The rumble grew. “Fine. Let’s us be done with this then. You, boy, Alaric Stonehammer. Come closer. Touch my eye.”

Alaric felt another nudge from Darren and stepped forward. He took a deep breath and set another food forward. After a few steps, Alaric was staring eye to eye with the beast.

He reached out with his hand slowly. The eye was wet and covered in slime. He wanted to throw up. Everyone stood and watched silently. Alaric thought it was all too strange.

The rumble came after several seconds of silence. It was so quiet Alaric thought his heartbeat had grown loud enough to be heard by everyone. “Everyone leave,” the dragon growled.

Erika straightened. She was apparently against the idea of Ca’arnnathadhair giving orders, despite the fact that it was a dragon.

Without a word, she turned and nodded to the group. The whole group started to leave, but Alaric didn’t move. If the dragon was scared of what it saw, then Alaric had to know what was seen.

“Alaric, do you truly wish to know what I saw?” the dragon asked.

Alaric paused. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to know what the dragon saw, but he felt drawn to the answer. “Yes, Ca’arnathadhair.” The name felt strange on his tongue, but he said it slowly without stumbling.

“Very well,” came the reply. The dragon paused. “Young thrones will crumble and old thrones will be restored. Kings will fall and kings will rise. Fate will remain despite its death. Old laws and promises are at their end and new times come in their wake. From burned and razed, will a kingdom come again. All of this will be from your decisions.”

Alaric stared flatly at the beast. “Why do you speak in riddles? Do you fear what you see?”

The dragon chuckled at the reply. “I like you boy. It will be an honor to watch the world burn by your hands.”

The flat stare grew into confusion and then anger. “I will not make the world burn, you lying beast. I am a blacksmith, not a villain, nor a hero, nor some lord!”

“You do not control your fate. You are a puppet on a string just as the rest of us! Now leave!” The dragon hissed.

Alaric felt no fear suddenly. He was filled with rage and felt nothing else. He pulled his hand back from the eye and then slammed his clenched fist as hand as he could back into the eye.

The dragon screamed in pain. It dawned on Alaric what he had just done. He had punched a dragon in the eye. Alaric turned and ran out the door as fast as he could.

He ran up the stairs that led away from the dragon. He couldn’t remember the way that they had gone to reach the dragon. There were few paths to take along the way so Alaric ran as straight as he could.

The path seemed much longer than it had been on the way down to the dragon. Alaric saw the exit and leapt out. The others were all there waiting. They jumped at his sudden appearance.

Before anyone had time to speak, the ground began to rumble. The dragon’s voice shook the entire castle,”Alaric Stonehammer, you will train to become a Dragon Knight. You will ascend to be a Lord. You will take the throne after Buel Arthfael. Your wife will be Lilia Arthfael. You can run from destiny, but it will take you either way!”

The world fell still and silent. Everyone that he could see wore the face of shock. Erika stared at the ground angrily. The High Lords and King stared at the young man.

King Arthfael broke the silence. “Remember those words Alaric. We cannot ignore that decree, nor can we ignore Lady Fate’s guiding hand. You are now a lord. There is no ceremony, and you have no subjects. You will be guided by my side to be able to rule as a king.”

Alaric felt nauseous. A lord was too much, let alone king. He had no desire to ascend to any level of power in the first place.

The king spoke more to the High Lords and Darren. Darren took Alaric and led him to a large room. His things were on the floor next to the bed. Darren sat Alaric down in a chair in the corner of the room.

“Alaric, my friend, what happened with Ca’arnathadhair? I have never met the dragon, but I also know that he has never spoken with such spite. At least not since his imprisonment long before I was born.” Darren said. Worry filled the man’s wide face.

Alaric looked the Lord in his eyes. “The dragon is a fool. It spoke nothing but lies to me.”

Darren chuckled at the reply. “As stubborn as your father. Maybe as hard-headed as well. That dragon is bound by ancient laws. It may speak in riddles, but it does not lie. It cannot. What did it say to you?”

Alaric sighed. He didn’t know why he was so angry, but he couldn’t let go of it. “The beast told me that young thrones will crumble and old thrones will be restored. Kings will fall and kings will rise. Fate will remain despite its death. Old laws and promises are at their end and new times come in their wake. From burned and razed, will a kingdom come again. All of this will be from your decisions. None of it makes sense. It sounds like something from the stories that my parents told when I was a child. I am no hero or villain.”

The heavy man stroked his beard with a thoughtful frown. “I admit. It does sound like something from old legends. I could not tell you what it means, but know this one thing. Tell no one of this. You are already the center of focus in the castle now. People are afraid enough of change to kill you before you have a chance to fulfill any of those prophecies.”

Alaric shrugged. He had no intention of dying anytime soon. A few questions rested on his mind. He knew that Darren would be able and willing to answer them. “Darren, who is Lilia? She has the same last name as the king. Does that mean…”

Darren’s frown gave way to a small grin. “The dragon did say that she would be your wife, didn’t he? That is a fate that I wouldn’t wish on even my enemy. She is the beautiful, second daughter of the King. She is strong-willed and wild, probably much like yourself actually. Not one that would be easy to forge into a wife.” The large lord chuckled at his statement.

Alaric frowned. At least she sounds fun, he thought to himself. Fun and pretty. “I am sure that she and I will meet soon enough then. What about becoming a Dragon Knight? What does that entail?”

“Alairc, I must be frank with you. That will be one of the hardest parts of your journey. You will be trained for a few months as Initiates, and then sent out to each of the High Lords for a time. They will train and test the lot of new Dragon Knights. Few die though. These are noble children after all. The High Lord prefer to keep peace, when they have the option. I’m certain that your first dose will be brought soon.” Darren shuddered at the thought of whatever the dose was.

Alaric didn’t trust the man’s distaste for the thing that he called the dose. “What is that then? This dose.”

Darren eyed the young man. “The dose is a mixture made by dragon priests and priestesses. Only they know the contents of the vile liquid honestly. It tastes terrible and will leave you sick for a month the first time you drink it. Your body will grow used to the contents quickly, but be prepared to suffer your first time.”

A soft knock interrupted the men. The door swung open slowly. The King entered with two guards at his side. “Ah, Darren, Alaric. I think that we three must speak of the things that will happen from now on.” The king didn’t look to have any concern. Alaric thought that would mean that this was mostly consisting of formalities.

Alaric pushed to his feet and bowed awkwardly. At least he thought it was awkwardly. “What can we do for you, my king?” he asked as formally as he could muster.

King Arthfael waved his hand at Alaric. “There is no need for formality among friends.” The King saw on the edge of Alaric’s bed and eyed the two lords. The men guarding him stood rigidly by the door.

“Alaric, it is hard to… accept things that we do not want. We are men, and that means that we don’t always accept being told what we don’t want to hear. I couldn’t honestly imagine myself in the position that you are in. None of the other nobles can, but there was a time when each of our fathers or grandfathers or those before them sat in your position. They were each followed by lines of nobility that have kept the peace in the world that you have grown up in. It is not a perfect system, but it has worked for many generations. I plan to immerse you fully into this culture though. Immediately actually. Erika will be up with your dose of Dragon’s Veil soon. I trust that Darren has told you about that already?” The king said thoughtfully. When he finished, he looked to Darren. Darren replied with a nod.

“Then Alaric, once you recover from your first dose, you will begin training. Until then you will rest here and be cared for by my daughter Lilia and by Amindra, one of the servant girls.” The King said. The man stood and left with a nod. It seemed that he approved of the silence, despite his disdain for formality. Kings are strange, Alaric decided.

Almost as the King left, Erika came in holding a steaming bowl. She moved carefully as to not spill the precious contents. “Alaric, this is Dragon’s Veil. Change into clothes that you can sleep in. Not your small clothes though. You will be in bed for a few days after you finish this.” She set the bowl next to his bed.

“Erika, can I at least have utensils with it?” Alaric asked. If he was going to suffer, then suffering civilly seemed less miserable.

Erika frowned. “No utensil can touch this. It will be destroyed and the mixture ruined. You’ll drink straight from the bowl, Alaric. Now, I also imagine that this will be the last time that you and I see each other for a time. I want you to remember this, there are few that you can trust here. Pick your friends wisely. It is very important that you do so, especially here.” With that Erika imitated the awkward bow, and strode out of the room.

Alaric didn’t like how everyone seemed to be in a rush in the castle. Baerlon was much slower. Most people that didn’t have pressing business often spent hours chatting away about simple things.

Darren turned to leave as well. “Alaric, do be careful and do get comfortable. You’ll spend more time than you like in this room.” Without waiting for a reply Darren left.

Alaric was alone for the first time since he left home. He could be considered a different man. He felt no different, yet he was now a lord not a blacksmith. He could be considered a man of wealth even, yet he truly had no money. He was still Alaric, yet he was supposed to be different. Alaric tried to shake his thoughts as he changed into loose and comfortable clothes.

He sat on the edge of the bed with the bowl in his hands. The liquid was a deep purple, with grey clouds of substance that drifted through the mixture. He dipped his head to the bowl and turned it up.

He drank the bittersweet liquid as fast as he could, pausing only to breathe. In Alaric’s opinion, the liquid didn’t actually taste all that bad. It was think, and he wanted to gag as it slid down his throat.

He set the bowl gently back on the table next to his bed. He pushed on his knees to stand, but his arms gave out. His body slumped to the ground with a soft thud.