Daniel and Cordelia sat down at the wooden table. The breakfast laid out before them was simple: boiled eggs, bread, cheese, and a jug of watered wine. It wasn’t much, but after everything they’d been through, it felt like a feast. Crimson slid into the seat beside them, the faint aroma of herbs clinging to her clothes as she joined the quiet meal.
Without a word, they all began to eat. Cordelia hadn’t realized how hungry she was until now—each bite grounding her, pulling her back from the haze of exhaustion. She chewed slowly, savoring the food more out of necessity than enjoyment. Across the table, Crimson casually peeled her egg, and when she reached the yolk, she tossed it to Alychnus. The tiger caught it effortlessly, devouring it in a single gulp, his blue eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
The silence hung in the air, heavy but comfortable, broken only by the soft sounds of eating and the occasional crackle of the fire. Eventually, Crimson leaned back, wiping her hands before glancing between the two of them.
“So,” she began, “what’s next for you two?”
Her question lingered in the air, as if it carried the weight of everything they hadn’t yet confronted.
“What do you mean?” Cordelia asked.
Crimson shrugged, leaning back in her chair with an almost casual air. “Well, your friend here already told me most of the story. You’re dragonless dragon knights with no school and no leaders left. What are you going to do about that?”
Cordelia flinched inwardly. Hearing a stranger so bluntly state their situation as if it was nothing only made it sting more. She gritted her teeth, trying to suppress the growing frustration that was bubbling up inside her.
“We don’t know that yet,” she said, her words clipped, turning sharply toward Daniel. “Commander Talia, Henric, and the other knights—they might still be alive.”
Daniel sighed deeply, shaking his head. “And they might not be.”
Cordelia's voice rose slightly higher. “So what? That doesn’t mean we can’t search for them! We need help—”
Daniel slammed his fork down onto his plate, the sudden clatter breaking the tension in the room like a lightning strike. His dark blue eyes locked with hers, “It means exactly that!”
The silence that followed was suffocating. Crimson’s green eyes flicked between them, but she said nothing.
Daniel sighed again, this time with more exhaustion than anger. “Look, Gods know it pains me to say this, but we barely made it out of the Academy alive, our dragons are gone and we have nowhere else to go. We don’t have the luxury of chasing shadows just because we hope they’re alive.”
Cordelia sighed, her heart aching with the truth she didn’t want to admit. Daniel leaned back, running a hand through his black hair. She could see that in the way his jaw tightened. But he met her eyes, his expression steady, if not a little worn.
“We need to go to Granaria,” he said after a moment. “It’s our best bet. If there’s any hope left, any chance at finding allies or regrouping... it’s there. We can also try to reach whoever Master Lysanthir mentioned.”
Cordelia sat quietly for a few seconds. She knew deep down that he was right. But the hope of Henric and Talia being alive was one of the few things that had made some of this trauma slightly bearable. The fact that they had to abandon them and everything else, hurt more than anything else. Cordelia's eyes fell to the runes on her arm, once glowing with an icy-blue hue. Now, they were dull, like faint scars etched into her skin, stripped of the magic that had once connected her to her dragon. It all felt so distant now, like a dream slipping away.
“..........wa…..ke up!..........”
A whisper, barely there, tugged at the edge of her consciousness. Cordelia blinked, her heart skipping a beat.
“I’m sorry, did you say something?” she asked, glancing up at Daniel and Crimson.
They looked at each other, puzzled.
Daniel tilted his head slowly, his brow furrowed. “No…?”
Cordelia shook her head, brushing away the lingering confusion. With a heavy sigh, she looked over at Daniel.
“Never mind… Alright. You’re right. I just…” She paused, her words catching in her throat. “I just don’t want to believe we’re the only ones who…” Her voice trailed off, the weight of it all feeling too much to bear.
Daniel’s expression softened as his gaze filled with empathy. “I know…” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “It hurts me too.”
Crimson rose from her seat, brushing her fiery red hair to the side as she looked at them with an arched brow. “To Granaria, then?” she asked.
Cordelia gave a defeated nod. “To Granaria.”
Daniel added, “But first, we need armor, supplies, camping equipment…”
Crimson crossed her arms thoughtfully. “There’s a small village not too far from here. I can lead you there. But after that…” She paused, her gaze steady. “You’re on your own.”
Daniel smiled, gratitude in his eyes. “We can't ask for more. You've been more than helpful. Thank you, Crimson.”
“Wait,” Cordelia interrupted, trying to stand. “I have a question.”
Crimson raised an eyebrow, pausing mid-step. “Hm?”
“Why are you helping us?” Cordelia asked curiously.
Crimson smiled, then shrugged casually. “I suppose I like having Dragon Knights in my debt. You never know when that might come in handy.”
“That can't be the only reason.” Cordelia pressed.
Crimson paused for a moment, her back still turned, her arms falling to her sides. “Maybe,” she murmured. Then she turned her back, her tone shifting back to something more practical, as if shutting the door on whatever had momentarily cracked open. “Your belongings are in the chest. I can lend you some clean clothes and some fur cloaks against the cold.”
Crimson, not saying anything else, began clearing the table, the soft clatter of plates and cups filling the silence. Cordelia, sensing the end of the conversation, moved toward the chest in the bedroom with Daniel following closely behind. The giant chest creaked as she opened it, revealing the familiar contents inside—yet now, each item felt like a distant memory.
Her hand hovered over the items as if afraid to touch them. Theodore’s jade necklace gleamed dully in the morning light. Next, she saw Master Lysanthir’s amulet, the intricate silverwork etched with ancient runes. Then her eyes fell on the broken pieces of the Orb, still completely devoid of all magic. Her mother’s scarf lay folded next to the Orb, worn and faded. Finally, at the bottom of the chest rested her sword, faintly glowing, the only thing in the pile that seemed to hold any power or meaning. Cordelia’s fingers curled around the hilt, the cool metal steady in her grasp. Every item in the chest was a relic of her past. But the sword—it was different. It was her future, sharp and unforgiving. The sword that was going to slay every single thing responsible for tearing her world apart.
She grabbed Theodore’s necklace and tied it tightly around the handle of her sword, its jade resting against the cold steel. Then, with steady hands, she placed the blade beside the bed. Finally, she slipped Master Lysanthir’s amulet over her neck and her mother’s scarf followed, tied firmly around her.
Daniel reached for his own jade necklace, slipping it around his neck. Then took and strapped his sword to his belt. Then he took his shield, which rested on the wall and strapped it on his arm.
As Cordelia gathered the broken pieces of the Orb, she held one half out to him. “Here,” she said softly, “For safekeeping.”
Daniel took the fragment, staring at it for a moment longer than expected. Then suddenly, with a flick of his wrist, he tossed the piece lightly into the air, catching it again before slipping it into his pocket with a small nod.
Suddenly, Crimson strode in, tossing two fur cloaks at them. Both Daniel and Cordelia caught the cloaks midair with quick reflexes. Crimson planted her hands on her hips, giving them a firm, no-nonsense look. “I made them myself. They’ll help against the cold.”
Daniel raised an eyebrow, visibly impressed. “Wait, you made these?”
Crimson nodded proudly. “From my hunts. Wolf pelts. Should keep you warm enough until we reach the village,” she explained, then crossed her arms. “Now, if you're done here, get out. I need to get ready.”
They both shuffled out of the bedroom as Crimson closed the door behind them. Cordelia glanced at the door, then at Daniel.
“I honestly can't read her,” she whispered.
Daniel shrugged, his expression thoughtful. “She saved our lives. We’re not exactly in a position to be picky about who we trust.”
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Cordelia folded her arms, “I'm not saying I don’t trust her. But she seems... I don’t know. Something feels off.”
Nearly half an hour later, Crimson emerged, now dressed in a fitted leather armor with a scarf wrapped snugly around her neck and a fur cloak draped over her shoulders. She quickly grabbed her bow and arrows then adjusted her leather gloves. Then, without a word, she picked up a cloth fardel from beside the fireplace and set it near the front door.
“What’s that for?” Cordelia asked.
“It’s full of pelts I’m trading with the blacksmith. They should cover your armor needs,” Crimson replied.
Daniel stepped forward, surprised. “Wait. You’re going to pay for our armor?”
Crimson shrugged nonchalantly. “Well, I haven't seen any gold on either of you.”
“I know, but... it doesn’t feel right. You’ve already helped us so much and—” Daniel began, but Crimson cut him off with an impatient roll of her eyes, crossing her arms.
“Firstly, I live in the wild. I don’t have much use for gold. I’ve got a chicken coop outside, grow and hunt my own food, and use magic to keep everything fresh,” she said, raising her hand as a soft light flickered from her palm, briefly illuminating the room. “Secondly, I owe my life to the blacksmith. This is how I repay him. He never takes the pelts for free, so I just end up with too much gold anyway. I give it to the bard instead and take what I only need.”
Cordelia and Daniel silently glanced at each other, still unsure. But Crimson's firm expression left no room for argument.
“How did the blacksmith save your life—” Cordelia began, but Crimson cut her off again with a brisk tone.
“Let's just go before we waste more daylight.”
Crimson grabbed the cloth fardel off the ground. Alychnus instantly ran to her side, following her close behind.
Cordelia and Daniel glanced at each other once again. Daniel shrugged and then they both started to follow Crimson.
***
After about fifteen minutes of walking, a small village gradually appeared on the horizon, its rooftops blending into the snowy landscape. Crimson remained silent, leading the way, Alychnus quietly padding alongside her.
Cordelia and Daniel followed without a word, their breaths forming faint clouds in the cold air. This part of the world felt entirely foreign to them. They had rarely ventured beyond the Academy, with the nearby Wyvernhill Village being the farthest they’d ever gone with the exception of the Field Training and visiting their parents once a year. But now, as they moved through this unfamiliar, snow-covered expanse, it felt as though they were stepping into a world they had never known.
As they entered the village, the locals greeted Crimson with a friendly familiarity, exchanging nods and brief words with her. But their eyes quickly shifted to Cordelia and Daniel, curious and cautious, trying to size up the newcomers. Cordelia and Daniel stayed close behind Crimson, feeling the weight of those glances but saying nothing.
Cordelia quickly glanced around the village. It was a small, quiet place nestled in the heart of the winter wilderness. Wooden cottages lined the narrow, uneven paths, their roofs sagging under the weight of snow. Smoke rose lazily from stone chimneys, the only sign of warmth in the otherwise harsh landscape. Most of the villagers were bundled up in thick furs, tending to small tasks outside—chopping firewood, feeding livestock, or simply shuffling through the snow. The place seemed humble, but there was a rugged charm to it as well.
They continued through the village until a creaky wooden sign, barely legible with the word "Blacksmith," came into view. Crimson nodded toward the door, silently instructing them to go inside. Once they stepped in, she followed and shut the door behind them. The warmth of the forge hit them like a wave, a huge contrast to the biting cold outside. Their skin tingled as the heat sank in, thawing the chill from their bones. The interior was large and filled with the pungent scent of oil and metal. Wheels, farrier tools, cutlery, and other practical items were laid out on one side. It seemed like this blacksmith’s work focused more on the everyday needs of the villagers than on crafting weapons and armor. Adventurers and soldiers must have been a rare sight in this part of the world.
"Waylen! You here?" Crimson called out.
"Coming!" came a muffled reply from the back.
Crimson crossed her arms, glancing at Daniel and Cordelia as they waited. Moments later, a tall, muscular man appeared from the shadows of the backroom. His bald head gleamed in the forge's light, and a thick beard covered most of his face. Tattoos snaked along the right side of his face and arm, giving him a rugged but seasoned look. Despite his strong build, he limped as he approached. When his eyes landed on Crimson, they lit up with recognition.
"Ah, Crimson! Long time no see, lass! Been keeping busy?" Waylen said, tugging off his leather gloves.
“You could say that,” Crimson replied with a casual shrug. “Been dodging The Order, heard they’ve been around lately.”
Waylen frowned slightly, nodding in understanding. "Aye, I heard they’ve been sniffing around. Let’s hope it’s about something else and has nothing to do with you."
Cordelia raised a brow, a spark of curiosity flickering in her eyes. She shot a glance at Daniel, who was clearly wondering the same thing. The Order? What order? From the tension in the room, it was clear that something was going on.
"Let’s hope so," Crimson said, though her tone carried an edge of uncertainty. She turned to Daniel and Cordelia. "Speaking of which, my friends here need some gear."
With that, she dropped a large bundle of pelts onto the table with a heavy thud. "Brought you some wolf pelts, untouched by Alychnus’ claws. Think you could whip up some armor for them?"
It was only then that Waylen seemed to notice Daniel and Cordelia, his eyes scanning them with a sudden interest as if they’d just appeared out of thin air.
“Ah, didn’t realize they were your friends.” His expression softened into a warm smile. “Well met.”
Cordelia returned the smile, while Daniel offered a polite nod. “Likewise.”
Waylen clapped his hands together and continued with a hearty voice. “Friends of Crimson are friends of mine. Now, I don’t have any full sets of armor ready, but I do have some bits and pieces from older ones I’ve worked on. I can patch them up, and reinforce them. Should do the trick. Sound good?”
Crimson tilted her head. "When do you think they’ll be ready?"
Waylen scratched his beard thoughtfully. "Shouldn’t take too long. Give me an hour or so. In the meantime, why don’t you head over to the inn?"
Crimson glanced at Daniel and Cordelia. "That sound alright to you two?"
Daniel shrugged with a smile. "You’re the guide, we’re just the tourists. We’ll follow your lead."
Crimson allowed herself a small smile. "Very well then." She turned back to Waylen. "Send someone over when you’re finished with the armor."
Waylen gave her a nod. "Will do. See you in a bit, lass."
They stepped out of the shop, and the cold immediately rushed back, biting at their skin as the warmth of the forge faded. Crimson led the way once more, with Cordelia and Daniel falling in behind her. As they made their way toward the inn, Cordelia quickened her pace to catch up with Crimson. “What’s this ‘Order’ you mentioned back there?” she asked, her tone curious but cautious.
Crimson rolled her eyes. “None of your business,” she replied flatly.
Cordelia wasn’t about to let it go. “That might be true,” she pressed, “but we’re the ones going on a long journey soon. I’d like to know if they’re going to be trouble for us too.”
Crimson scoffed, “Did either of you do something illegal?”
Cordelia exchanged a glance with Daniel before looking back at Crimson. “No?”
“Then you’ve got nothing to worry about,” Crimson said with a dismissive wave, continuing to walk ahead.
Daniel raised an eyebrow and leaned in slightly. “Why, did you?” he asked, his tone half-teasing, half-curious.
Crimson didn’t respond. She kept walking, her silence as cold as the snow-covered streets they moved through.
Finally, the inn came into view, its wooden sign swaying slightly in the cold breeze. As they approached, the rich scent of food and smoke began to waft through the door.
Crimson pushed it open, and the group stepped inside. The tavern was small but inviting, with a cozy warmth. In the center, a large fireplace roared, surrounded by seats for people to gather and warm themselves. Other tables were scattered around for those who preferred to eat in peace. At this time of day, the place was mostly empty, save for a few regulars—a couple of drunkards and some villagers taking a break from their daily chores.
At the far end of the room, near the bar, a heated argument was unfolding. The bartender, red-faced with frustration, was bickering with a Halfling and a towering Orc.
“The cat brought a live snake into the kitchen yesterday! She’s supposed to get rid of vermin, not drag them inside!” the bartender shouted, throwing his arms up in exasperation.
“It was a gift.” the Orc rumbled, his deep voice resonating through the small tavern.
“A gift? By the gods,” the bartender groaned, rubbing his temples. “That’s it. I’ve had enough! That menace of a cat has to go!”
The Halfling quickly jumped in, eyes wide with panic. “We’ll pay extra this month, okay? So sorry, I swear it won’t happen again! Dur'ghan will keep Clawdette in line. Right, Durry?”
The Orc mumbled again with a half-hearted response, clearly not as invested in the matter as his Halfling companion.
"Ahh, fine. But this is the last time, you hear?" the bartender grumbled.
The Orc and Halfling turned away from the bar, but the moment they did, the Halfling’s curious eyes locked onto them. She had warm russet skin that glowed softly in the firelight, her large brown eyes sharp with curiosity. Her short black hair was tousled, giving her a slightly disheveled look, and her worn clothes were patched together, splattered with ink stains that seemed impossible to wash out.
Beside her, her towering companion looked far less interested, his golden eyes narrowing in mild irritation. He had the olive-green skin typical of his kind, but his appearance was unusually refined for an Orc. His long black hair was tied tightly back, and his well-trimmed stubble framed a pair of white tusks that were surprisingly well-cared for. Golden earrings glinted against his dark hair, giving him an air of sophistication. Dressed in sturdy leather armor, he looked every bit the seasoned warrior, despite the large, overstuffed bag slung over his shoulder.
Peeking out from the bag, an orange and white cat stared at them with playful mischief, her eyes darting around the inn, as if planning her next little adventure.
“Crimson!” The Halfling’s voice cut through the tavern as she rushed toward them, her small frame moving quickly with her Orc companion, trailing closely behind. “Where have you been?” the Halfling squealed with concern. “I was worried sick! When I saw those brutes, I feared the worst!”
Crimson exhaled, brushing a hand through her fiery hair. “Yeah, I know… That's why I haven't been around. Did they come here? Did they say what they wanted?”
The Halfling shrugged, fidgeting with the hem of her ink-stained sleeve. “Yeah, they were here. We hid, but I overheard some of their chatter. Lucky for us, they were after someone else. Seemed like they were in a hurry too, which is strange... The Order of the Grey Eagle isn’t known for letting things go so easily.”
Daniel’s face paled as the realization hit him. The Order they’d been talking about was none other than The Order of the Grey Eagle, the king’s mercenaries. Cordelia caught the shift in Daniel's expression—the disgust and tension that tightened his jaw.
Crimson spoke, her voice laced with curiosity. “Did they say who they were after?”
The Halfling shrugged nonchalantly. “Some guy named Zesiro.”
Crimson frowned slightly, scratching her chin in thought. “Zesiro… why does that name sound familiar?”
A brief silence settled over the group, the flicker of the fireplace the only sound, until the Halfling’s gaze drifted toward Daniel and Cordelia. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity. “By the way… who are they?”
Crimson, pulled from her thoughts, refocused. “Some people Alychnus found in the wild,” she explained casually. “I’m just helping them out.”
Cordelia stepped forward, inwardly relieved that Crimson wasn’t revealing their true identities, choosing instead to keep things vague. It felt like a silent gesture of trust, allowing them to decide what to share. With a steady voice, Cordelia introduced herself. “I’m Cordelia, and this is my friend Daniel.”
Daniel gave a polite nod, though his thoughts were clearly elsewhere.
The Halfling’s smile spread wider. “Nice to meet you both! I’m Delilah Nessworth—bard, adventurer, and poet extraordinaire! She winked. Then she gestured to the towering orc beside her. “And this is my best friend, Dur’ghan.”
“Well met,” Dur'ghan rumbled in his deep voice, his golden eyes flickering with quiet interest.
Daniel smiled faintly, his voice curious. “Do I dare ask why the Grey Eagles are hunting you all?”
Crimson remained silent, a tense expression crossing her face while her eyes fixed on the floor. Delilah, however, sighed dramatically, one hand on her hip. “Ah, well, I could tell you our story... but it’s a loooong and tragic tale,” she drawled with theatrical flair.
Daniel glanced at Cordelia, then back at Delilah. “We’ve got time. Our armor won’t be ready for a while. So… why not?”
Delilah’s eyes lit up instantly, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. Unlike Crimson, who seemed reluctant, Delilah looked like she’d been waiting for an eager audience.
“Well, since you insist... where do I begin?” she said, already slipping into the role of storyteller.