By a miracle, we endured our brush with myth, and though the burrs it left weren’t soon forgotten, we happily turned our backs to the toppling townscape. Several times along the ride I spun in my saddle, vigilant of any shadow that may sneak over the horizon, but none did, and in time long enough, the barren plains we fled from sloped into the lush countryside of my homeland. Emerald green as far the eye could see. Its sprawling hills and hummocks were painted with thickly wooded groves, and between the valleys they formed rolled the stiff, northern breeze. I took deep lungfuls of it, potentially the first since we’d left Crodmill. It was no short journey, but when the great stone towers loomed beyond the spruce and red pine, each topped with the billowing blue and gold pennant, I knew we’d soon arrive.

The two of us, that is. Despite our shared encounter, I had traded no more words with the man who rode alongside me. Havlynn was his name, but, having only made his acquaintance from our joint mission, that was all I knew of him. Wretched though it may sound, they were countless and faceless to me; I was given a new hand for every goose chase I got sent with, so it made little sense to get to know them personally. If was any consolation, I knew they felt the same way.

To my eye, he looked like the rest of them: an average build—muscular, but not extraordinarily so, and with a hint of extra weight in his midsection. As per the stringent rule of the guard, he wore his long black hair in a ponytail, and he made an attempt at a clean shave as evidenced by the patchy stubble on his face. Between the two of us, he was the taller by some margin, but you couldn't tell it by the way he slouched forward into his saddle. I rose in mine, stretching and twisting out the soreness from a long ride. This was a miserable part of the job, but it didn't compare to what came next.

"Alright," I said loudly in case he'd nodded off along the way. "We'll go straight to the keep—best not to let the news steep for too long."

He cast aside a lazy eye. "Come again, friend?"

"Just discussing our plans. I was thinking we should—"

"Plans?" he scoffed. "My only plan is to forget what the hell we saw back there. I'll dump just as much ale down my gullet as it takes to keep the damn thing away. Beast like that'll give a man conniptions if he isn't proactive."

On either front, I didn't doubt him, but not until we reported it. The council had been at my throat looking for answers these past months, and I wasn't about to keep them waiting. "Trust me, I got a good enough look. Maybe this evening we'll make a go of it, but the situation is a touch too severe to sleep on, wouldn't you say?"

"I say we do just that," he said dismissively. "We’ve earned it, haven’t we? The attacks on Crodmill and Thorwell were months apart. Way I see it, that beast is fat and happy, so how we spend the next few hours isn't going to change much." He cupped his hands behind his head and leaned back, a series of cracks and pops running through his back as he twisted. It was a miracle he didn't turn to stone when he saw my cold glare. "Oh, don't look at me like that! Tell me you're in the mood to play the Duke's games today."

There were plenty of things I wasn't in the mood for, but the least of them was being burnt alive because we sat on our asses. Drinks could wait. "It doesn't matter what I'm in the mood for. A job is a job, and I'm not content until it's completed."

"Then I dare say this is where we part ways. Now, I'd be more than happy to share a round at the Stein if you're looking to soften those achin' nerves later, but otherwise, my job is done."

"Done?" I asked. "Like hell it is. You were sent to help with my mission, and the mission isn't done until their say-so. Besides, you're a guard. Isn't defending this place in the title? Take some damn pride."

"Best I recall, I was instructed only to lend my blade should the need arise. That ship has set sail, and unless you find one with wings, my blade is going nowhere near that fucking nightmare. This was your errand, and I have other obligations to tend to."

"Like drinking yourself under the table?" I griped. "We have to bring this to the council's attention. This wyvern is the root of all of our allied villages' destruction, and we'll be next if we just sweep it under the rug!"

He straightened suddenly, bearing his teeth as he whipped his head towards me. "That wasn't a goddamned wyvern; it was bloody myth incarnate! I don't like to be the bearer of bad news as it is, but this? This is several digits beyond my pay grade. We'd be laughed off as fools or drunks, especially in the face of Eisendale! Surely you know that better than anyone, Kaiser."

I understood as much if not better than him the crushing weight of our discovery, and I'd no less than drop dead at the tavern if given the time of day, but we had sworn duties to the lord and land. Considering the outlandish nature of our assessment, I was well aware it would take some convincing, but word had to be spread regardless. "Maybe alone, but he can't so easily deny both of our sightings. That's why you have to come with me!"

"And put my head on the chopping block?" He sighed. "It's not in the good King's graces to fraternize with the pawns; he's never once traded words with me that didn't go through three levels of command first. My account would do nothing to strengthen yours. I'm sorry, but you're on your own with this one. Best of luck to you."

A choice or two escaped from under my breath as he pulled his reigns in another direction, clearly headed for an entrance free of the scalding I'd given him. This mentality was common among the guards in my company, and it was precisely why they rarely garnered my respect. Their round asses were all they cared about. Their loyalty lasted only until the job was done, and they'd take plenty of freedom gauging when that was if it meant that it saved their tail.

Though I may have disagreed with his work ethic, he was right about one thing: it wouldn't be easy. Eisendale was the current Duke, and he'd garnered a reputation for being rather headstrong. Having worked under him in the months since his father's passing, I could attest to the rumors. He was more infatuated with the luxury of royalty than he was with leading the nation, and he didn't much respect his lesser troops. Thankfully, I had a knight on the board.

As we approached her great wooden doors, I slowed my steed to a trot, careful to steer away from the mess of travelers that convened around the guards. I forged a narrow path with hand raised beyond the many heads in line for entry. There were two guards, one on either side, each in identical garb: a plain blue studded gambeson free of the city's golden heraldry, along with a worn set of spaulders and tired faces to match. They leaned on poleaxes but, decorated and showy, they were more for flash than they were function, now serving only to prop them up while they dozed. Abdera was seeing peaceful times, having quashed their rivals long since the start of my work there. Now, it was one of the greatest centers of wealth and trade in Circadia. People came and went with the flow of goods, and the portals were always open.

When one of them spotted the royal blue weave hanging from my and my horse's chest, they broke the mob and funneled me through—a perk of a dangerous job. "Evening, Kaiser," the left guard said with a yawn. The other stirred and waved as I passed. I nodded in a show of mutual respect, and on my face, I wore a kind grin though I knew not the name of the guard that spoke my own.

Now beyond the wall that concealed it, I could see fully the breadth of the city. It was just as I'd left it: busy denizens running the maze of streets with mules and wagons hurtling behind, and the city hummed as thousands conducted their daily business. The dominion was vast, and no matter how many times I'd come and gone, it never ceased to amaze me whenever I returned to its ever-welcoming embrace.

We clicked slowly along the stone avenues, my neck straining from taking in the new sights and sounds. Though the energy hadn't changed, it was sometimes hard for me to believe that these were the same streets that Israfel had raised me on, for they bore little resemblance to the ones from my memories. It may have been where I called home, but in recent years, I'd spent precious few of my days here. Scouting trips could keep me between locales for weeks at a time, and new construction was always underway, so it seemed it grew larger with each trip 'round.

While I reminisced, a stagecoach rumbled past. "Watch it!" snapped the ornery man from the seat, fist shaking at me. I grumbled and moved on from my daydreaming, following the trail of grain that sifted through the bottom of the bouncing wagon. I had to, now. In my youth, I knew the ins and outs of every alleyway, but these days I quickly found myself lost in any number of crooks and curves that snaked from its main pathways. The stables, however, were right where I last left them: nestled between the town’s oldest tavern and the workplace of its oldest profession. Inside was a stable boy no more than fourteen years old whose cap laid across his face as he laid out.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

At the clatter of hooves, he jumped from the haystack, the body-shaped impression suggesting he'd spent some time there.

My feet let off the stirrups and I slid to the ground, handing off the reins to the attendant. "Pretty horse there, mister! He'll be well cared for here."

I thanked him for his kind words and slipped a coin into his hand. For a moment, his sagging, overworked eyes glowed, and he rushed to get the animal situated. Owing both to my job, and my warm demeanor, I surrounded myself with few friends, and of that shallow pool, my horse was by far the closest. He may have been a simple rouncey, common as they come and brown like the rest of them, but he meant the world to me. I took great pride in that animal, and I always saw to it that he'd get his rest after a long outing; he deserved no less for the strain I put on his old bones.

Once he was stabled, I returned to the alley on foot. My pace had slowed thereon, but not because of him. Along the way, I was waved down by every roadside merchant whose fruits, pelts, and any number of other commodities needed unloading from their stuffed satchels. It was out of respect that I made eye contact with the first of them, grabbing a few apples to replace the void in my gut, but their grating pleas soon became an obstacle to my agenda, and I stooped to walking past with my head down. There would be time for pleasantries when I was done.

Into the meat of the city, there were more houses than shops and stands—small blocks of low-roofed buildings for the poorer of her inhabitants, my own home sitting in decay among them. Ample time on, high risk, and low compensation made for a hell of a trade, but it was a gift and a stepping stone, one that I nonetheless clutched dearly. To do otherwise was an insult to my dear friend, whose efforts procured all that I had. Plenty enough for me.

It wasn't long until my legs had taken me to the inner wall, grander and more daunting than its counterpart, though the process of entry was roughly unchanged. The gates remained open to all; the higher number of guards positioned behind them dissuaded most criminal acts in the city grounds, and too many feet trafficked them to necessitate silly routine. These guardsmen stood with better posture and tighter grip on their weapons, but they paid me no mind as I carried on.

While the inner wall matched the outer, free of frill and fluff, the same didn't hold for the pile of riches it protected. When peeled away, the gray and muted shell of the outer layer revealed the vivid, bursting colors of the second. Rich reds and brilliant blues slathered the houses here, along with the gorgeous garb that adorned their inhabitants. It was quite the transition coming from the dusty alleys to the clean, cobbled roads, each of which I had to myself. While business was carried out here, it was the sort that took place behind closed doors. As a result, it was peaceful and quiet here, the noises dampened by the dense wall, and the plaza without the merchants and markets to make them. It was the perfect, suburban paradise.

In a word, I hated it. For its beauty in architecture and apparel, it was an ugly gash that segregated it from its sister city. There ran a deep gulf in wealth between this side of the wall and that—an impossibly tall mountain for all but the most fortunate to climb, and I was still so far from the summit.

"Just another few years," I reminded myself as I crossed the penumbra, the pall cast by the great castle. The third and final set of gates was no gate at all, but a doorway into the Duke's personal living space. These sprawling estates, soaring towers, and at the center of them all, a staggering palace housing only his highness and the most esteemed of aristocrats. It was a stronghold, its four corners eternal and imposing like the shoulders of giants digging their fists into the earth.

Standing in her stead were yet two more sentries, better outfitted than previously encountered, and with less gaudy weaponry should they need to defend their duke. They wore the same blue, this time in the form of brigandine—heavy cloth lined with hardened metal plates—and the city crest planted on the front: the raptor perched atop a golden elm. Like that raptor, they eyed me closely as I came to stand before them. Even paradise had its hierarchy.

"Your name and business in the sanctum," one of them said stiffly, somewhere between a question and a demand.

For their weapons, they held rounded maces with exposed metal handles. The missing leather along the shaft, though it subtracted from the comfort, made it the ideal catalyst much like my sword. By infusing them with electricity, they could quickly stop even a fully armored foe. These were the city's "less than lethal" means of subduing ne'er do wells, and they were the only accepted form of magic beyond this point.

"My name is Kaiser Arrowood. I've returned from Crodmill and request an immediate audience with Lord Eisendale as it concerns my findings."

The hefty man to my right slackened his grip on the mace and motioned me forward with his free hand. Meanwhile, the guard to my left grunted and grumbled while he wrapped his hands around the crank and heaved. "How many damn times today—" I could just catch him sputtering.

Slowly, the chains on either side of the door squealed as they came under tension. The portal slowly fell, opening to the lavish interior of the keep. "Notice has already been sent of your arrival, Mr. Arrowood. You may proceed."

Before I entered, I stepped closer to the guard. "And where might I find Captain Brookes? I'd like to speak with him before my audience if his schedule allows."

The exhausted man spoke, one hand on his back as he rose from the lever. "The Captain is away for the moment—making his morning rounds. I can tell 'em you've been by."

“Oh, will he be long? I can surely wait a few minutes.”

“I’m afraid it will be little longer than that. New trainees need a firm hand. Go on ahead with your reporting and he should be here by the time you’ve concluded.”

I nodded and entered, hiding the concern on my face until the poor man spun the crank again and brought the door up behind me.

Shit. So fell my little gambit.

Standing upon these grounds, I had a modest share of respect; it was my title after all that allowed me to come and go as I pleased. However, I didn’t know that it would be enough now. The hierarchy ran deep through these old veins, and one didn’t make it very far without proper connections. A commoner could spend their life without ever crossing this point, but I was blessed with at least one link whose chain ran straight to the top. I came to Abdera when I was still young, only one kindly man to lead the way, and he did a damn good job of it. More than my guardian, he was an excellent teacher—not in the way of the blade, but in the tricks that accompanied it. His knack for magic brought to blossom my own gift with catalysts, and those skills soon placed me above much of the guard. Before long, we drew the attention of a few higher-ups, most notably Brookes.

Captain Brookes was the leader of the Knights of Abdera, carrying on my training in ways that Israfel never could all while slating me for the royal guard. Unfortunately, I was still young, and Abdera held strongly to its oldest traditions. Despite my proficiency, I had three years before I could join the table proper. Until then, I remained a trusted royal advisor—a squire given relatively free rein under our previous lord Gwynne. Were he the person I had to convince, my odds were solid, but Eisendale was less familiar with his men and less trusting to boot, so I had hoped the shared word of Captain Brookes might strengthen my frail account. I should've known I'd have no such luck.

Nerves mounting, I clasped my thumb taut between my index and middle finger as I hit the first of the needlessly large set of steps leading to the royal quarters. I could turn back now—make for the bar and wait for the Captain to return—but my anxiety would bubble over before then. I would just have to trust that my report had legs.

Once I hit the top of the stairs, I cleared my throat and adjusted my sleeves before heaving open the last of the doors.