Prince Ethan stood at the edge of the round table, a slab of rough-cut blackstone. Carved into its polished surface was a map of Edenwood Valley and its many realms. Glittering quartz denoted seats of power, major towns, and the smaller clusters of minor villages. A shining green jewel marked the Grimwood Forte, rebuilt and fortified atop the bones of the destroyed Palace.

At 27 years of age, Ethan was the youngest member of the Spectral Command, a council of select Guild Masters, researchers, and experts in the arts of battlecraft.

“What do the latest reports from the Alchemists offer?” Ethan addressed a woman in black brocade silk, her gown flowing like a dark waterfall from shoulder to toe.

“We have found traces of phantasmic plasma in the deep pools of southern Darkwood. We believe the lost dragon has taken refuge within these pools,” Celia replied, dark painted lips pursed with concentration as she pointed to the region on the map.

Ethan nodded as he reached forward to lay glowing markers where she had indicated.

“Has this dragon actually been witnessed?” asked an elder man wearing the gold-cuffed robes of a Master Archivist. “Or are we simply chasing after empty shadows? Every year we hear the same tales of a dragon in the woods, but they have ever remained unsubstantiated.”

“The stories have, in past years, been mostly conspiracies,” Celia conceded with a gracious nod. “Yarns spun by braggards too deep in their cups, or fearful hedge witches seeing monsters where there are none.”

Celia’s mouth pursed ever smaller, making clear her opinion of either sort. She smoothed her pale hands down the front of her silks, clasping them together as she regarded the council. “In recent months however, too many Rangers have been trading tales too alike to discount. We need to deal with this beast. Assert control before there is panic amongst the realms. Or worse, another Rising.”

A stout man on the other side of the table cleared his throat, nodding his agreement. As Chief of Grimwood’s High Advisory, Roric of Noble House Stonebed was a pleasant, yet bland, man in the way of true diplomats.

“The other Royal Houses are already demanding we keep their faith. They are growing impatient to see the fruits of their generosity after the Battle at Great Fall,” he said. “Starwood are particularly... adamant... to see the outcomes of their investments in our research.”

“And they can’t simply See them?” someone snarked under their breath. Ethan smirked, but the remark was otherwise ignored.

The Arbiter of Guilds spoke next, standing from his chair with a grace that belied his age. “They will not be disappointed. Prince Ethan, can I trust you and your team of Rangers with the matter of the dragon?”

Ethan nodded, offering a wry smile. “You will not be disappointed.”

The Arbiter’s lips twisted in amusement. “Very well then. Let us break from council and carry on with merrier tasks.”

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Celia sniffed at the Arbiter’s impropriety, but Ethan smiled to himself. He too would rather get on with things than dally about with bureaucracy, even the most secret kind.

“I shall report to the King,” Roric announced, striding through the doors at a perfectly neutral pace.

After a brief time spent studying the map, Ethan was the last to leave.

✦✦✦

“Ethan!” A hissed whisper filled with mischief came from behind a tapestry as he passed through the halls. Ethan smirked to himself, but didn’t slow his pace, knowing all too well his favourite brother would match his stride.

True to form, Steph’s soft-soled steps chased him down the corridor to his private suites.

Steph lay back on the large feather fern bed with a soft fwump. Ethan began to change into his Ranger’s uniform.

“Where are you going? Is it top secret? Can I come this time?” Steph kicked his feet which he had, thankfully, not swung up onto the quilt. This time.

Ethan fixed his mask, a serpentine dragon etched with honeybelle flowers, into place over his eyes and watched Steph over his shoulder.

Now at 20 years old, the infant he had been the night of the Battle was unrecognisable. Yet he bore all the childish innocence the others had lost that night. Untarnished, as his brothers had been. Certainly as he had been. For that, Ethan treasured Steph above all his other brothers, though he would never admit to it.

“I am indeed going on a top secret mission into the deepest Darkwood, and don’t you even think about following us again,” Ethan admonished, the authority of his regal bearing undermined by the indulgent amusement in his voice.

“Just because you caught me the last five times...” Steph grumbled with a huff, eyes sparkling with impish intent.

“Just you try it, we’ll have you trussed up like a chicken and back to the Forte before you can even squawk.”

“That’s just rude, that is,” Steph whined as Ethan pulled his Ranger’s cowl up and over his bone-white hair. He had come to appreciate the colour—or rather, the lack of colour—over the years. Each time he looked into the mirror he was reminded of their losses. Of what more they could have lost. Of the reason he worked so hard to hone his skills.

“Don’t you have duties of your own to attend?” Ethan teased, snorting as his brother made a face and shrugged.

“Adventures in the forest sound much more fun, I’d rather do that.”

“I love that you never take anything seriously,” Ethan said with a sardonic tilt of his head.

“Why should I,” Steph complained, drawing his feet up onto the bed, pressing his heels into the quilt and grinning as Ethan rolled his eyes. “Not like I’ll ever be the poor schmuck in line for the throne.” Steph reclined against the pillows, tucking his arms behind his head with a self-satisfied smile.

Ethan stilled a moment, before tugging on his boots and ribbed armour.

“Certainly not if I have anything to say about it,” Ethan retorted, keeping his tone light. How innocent his brother was.

As First Scion, Ethan’s responsibilities lay heavy, the weight of an invisible crown ever present about his head. He knew all too well how easily his father could fall to new dangers. He would not allow his family to come to harm.

Least of all Steph.

Clipping his grandfather’s club of bone to his belt, Ethan stepped over to the bedside. He reached down to muss his little brother’s dark curls before planting a kiss on Steph’s forehead.

Steph grinned up at him, cheeks appled with boyish delight. With a final pinch of his brother’s cheek, and a deft dodge of Steph’s retaliatory smack, Ethan marched out the door, making towards the guard room.

Felix was already there, wearing his familiar bird mask etched with constellations. Over the years, new stars had joined the older engravings, all interconnected by a web of thin lines.

“I assume we have orders?” he asked as they navigated the warren of underground tunnels leading towards the Rangers’ Citadel.

Ethan nodded at his closest confidant, baring his teeth in a predatory grin.

“How do you feel about hunting a dragon?”

~ The End ~