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From Bards and Poets
59 - A story of princes IX

59 - A story of princes IX

“Doo di doo... Egg egg, little egg thingy... Pretty egg, pretty pretty. Doo di doo da... Mom, look at the pretty egg !

-last words of a child wandering in dragon-inhabited mountains”

* * *

Azcheron

The running horses made the earth shake as their hoofs trampled grass, dirt and rocks alike. Had animals stayed in the middle of their path, the horses would have crushed them without a care. They could only focus on galloping as fast as they could. There was nothing alive on the roads anyway – each and every animal here had already fled far away, fearing something far more sinister than horses and their hoofs.

While Azcheron clung to his horse, the reins held in a tight grip, he wore a large smile from ear to ear.

“Hurry hurry, friends,” he said gleefully, without looking back, to Erin and Rudolph, who were riding just behind him, following him closely. “We're almost there. It would be a shame to die now !”

Already the terrifying screeching and growling could be heard, echoing through the skies. I wonder if the capital prepared a line of defence... Did they believe the reports ? What of their scouts ? Such concerns mattered very little to Azcheron, but he had nothing else to do for the time. His battle strategy was already planned out, everything went more or less going according to his expectations up to this point, and he had a fairly good idea of the political aftermath of this small trick.

The important thing was to arrive at the capital some time before the enemy, so that everyone could take their position. Going through towns and castles had managed to somewhat slow down their pursuers, but the lead Azcheron's group could previously boast had started to diminish greatly. There wasn't much he could do. Casting magic now to try to slow them down would only serve to reveal what he was capable of, so it was best not to do anything at all. No need for worry, he only had to entertain himself with random thoughts until they reached their destination.

The Saint's mount suddenly jumped over a tree trunk, jolting its rider as it didn't care to slow down at all. Azcheron felt almost anxious for a second, immediately reaching for his belongings to make sure nothing was broken.

He sighed in relief while eyeing his luggage. Carefully packed in several thick layers of linen and wool, this oval treasure was the cornerstone of his plan. Without it, the dragons wouldn't have bothered to chase a handful of puny humans so far from their home – and had it cracked on the way there, the grieving beasts would have furiously burned down the country instead of merely checking town after town for it.

It wouldn't be too much of an issue for the thing to break here, since it had served its purpose, but Azcheron couldn't simply give up on his dragon-taming dreams.

When it hatches, I'll raise it as my familiar. If it doesn't try to eat me, that is.

Finding it in the first place had turned out to be easier than he'd have imagined. The hard part was stealing it, everything that came after that – escaping, surviving, and leading the angry pursuers to the capital – was a piece of dragoncake in comparison.

It reminds me, I still haven't tasted that dessert. Should I ask Tania to bake it for me once I've saved the city... He frowned, as an obvious complication appeared. Would that make Erin angry for dismissing her cooking skills as unrefined ?

Azcheron could not deny that Erin's inner noblewoman definitely showed up with it came to food. The damn girl could not cook a decent thing to save her life, she had no choice but to rely on others. The servants back at her manor took care of her meals, and she since her time with the mercenaries she only learned how to skin and roast animals, but nothing worth mentioning. And servants don't grow on trees. Is that the saying ? He massaged his chin. Maybe I ought to get her a squire or something, as a present. One that can cook.

He turned his head to face Rudolph. “Can you buy squires in this country ?”

The old knight made a strange face, he probably found the question inappropriate. Either because one couldn't buy squires and asking about it was uncivilized, or else simply because there was no time for such concerns, what with dragons chasing them and all that.

Azcheron would have liked to ponder on the answer, but alas, they arrived at the capital. A flow of people trying to enter the city, while the guards were hurrying them inside. They seemed very eager to close the gates, so the word must have spread. People were seeking refuge in the capital, fearing that dragons may lay waste and destruction to the lands around it.

Little did they know that the real battle was to take place behind the walls of the city. “If they knew,” he muttered, “they would not let us inside.”

But the galloping horses met no obstacles as they went in, almost trampling on a group of peasants. Now that they were behind the not-so-safe safety of the walls, it was time to begin the plan. Azcheron glanced back and gave a bright smile to Erin and Rudolph, trying to convey his wishes of good luck and all the customary friendly feelings that one could harbour moments before a deadly fight. Such were the polite manners he had learned from works of literature that emphasized the concepts of heroic achievements through friendship and mutual respect.

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His two accomplices did not seem to understand the real meaning of his smile. “What an unsympathetic party. Well, let's get to work !”

Rudolph barely reacted, simply nodding before suddenly taking a turn in an alley to the left, whereas Erin lingered a bit more behind Azcheron. She obviously intended to say mean things, most likely criticism regarding this venture that would cause so many needless deaths of innocent bystanders, as she had already done ever since she learned of the plan, but they both knew it would have to wait until the situation calmed down.

I personally do not think these are entirely innocent bystanders, he contemplated as he watched with indifferent eyes the panicking citizens running around in the streets. They did wish for my death at some point, and probably still do. Hopefully this theatre play shall contribute to change their minds ! Unless they get wind of the truth.

“Erin,” he called out as the imposing main plaza was stretching before his eyes at the end of the avenue, “don't die.”

“I'll see you once this is over,” she replied. He turned his head to see her one last time, but she was already gone.

I'll shed a tear and start fearing for our lives, if this goes on, he thought with a sad expression. A fake expression that he brushed away with a radiant smile. Today was the day he'd shine, of a light bright enough to make every single of these idiot citizens forget about his tarnished image. Fame and glory in the small north was only the beginning. It was true that he could not hope to overtake the Empire anymore, and that the Empire itself wasn't willing to make a hero out of him, but then he just had to make himself the hero of a fabricated story.

The main plaza was filled with siege weaponry, ballistas and magical artilleries. Right, they were having a military display, weren't they ? That'd explain their lack of preparations. Casting a shadow on the plaza was the Palace, standing tall as usual. The thing sure felt safe against ground invaders, but now that the attackers were fire-breathing flying beasts, Azcheron couldn't help but wonder how useful it was against them. Maybe there were cannons hidden in the walls ? Or some forcefield.

Regardless, the Palace itself was enough of a weapon by itself. Just as he was thinking about one of the most nefarious parts of his stratagem, Azcheron spotted a heavily defended convoy fleeing toward the Palace. It must be him. Ah, what a fortunate timing. That was something he decided not to take into account in the strategy, for the risk of it not happening was high. There was no guarantee the Saint could meet with the Prince – or was it Emperor, nowadays ? – nor that Hadrias would survive the battle – especially if he went hiding into that tower.

Now was Azcheron's unexpected chance, his only chance really, to engineer the best possible outcome. Without Hadrias, the whole plan was nothing more than a gamble depending on the Imperial citizens' goodwill.

He strode after the convoy, singling out the main coach. The tremendous amount of knights and magic-maids told him which one it was right of the bat. “This isn't part of the original plan, but oh well” he thought out loud, attracting glances from the escort, that soon began to whisper.

“Hey, isn't he... From the audience...”

“The Rahal Saint, right ? Nah, I don't think so.”

“He just looks like him. Get moving, we have to get his majesty to safety.”

Azcheron was glad to know that he was still popular. At least, they hadn't forgotten about him. “Alright then. Here goes nothing !” he said while getting off his horse.

Infusing mana in his body, he magically jumped over the rows of guards and landed on top of the coach with an unforeseen violence, breaking the wooden roof and falling inside by a whim of physics. A convenient whim, since Azcheron was now sitting in a red velvet seat, facing the Emperor, with only Hadrias' horrified expression and the pieces of broken wood suggesting that one of the two passengers used the wrong means of entry.

“What the...”

Azcheron waved. “Good day, your majesty.”

The doors of the coach were torn apart as the guards rushed inside, and before the Saint knew it, he had half a dozen blades pressed against his neck. Either the Emperor would allow him the chance to negotiate, or Azcheron would have to murder everyone here and now.

“Wait,” Hadrias commanded to his people before one of them could impale Azcheron. The guards exchanged confused stares. They all were, beyond doubt, perfectly aware of his identity. It surely made little sense to spare a traitor such as him, even more so considering the imminent threat at the gates. Nevertheless, they obeyed his majesty and their nervousness showed on their faces as the Saint sat more comfortably in his seat.

Azcheron nodded. “I thank you for the opportunity. You seem wiser than your predecessor.”

“Speak, Saint. I'm not sure you're aware of our circumstances, but red dragons have been sighted in the capital's vicinity.”

“Ah, yes, that would be the reason of my visit. I heard you were in a pinch of some sort. Came to see if I could help !” he claimed innocently, and threw in a kind smile for good measure.

Hadrias appeared to be suspicious of said good measure. Which was the normal thing to do, in fact, but still. Azcheron felt slightly hurt, knowing that people saw him as the most untrustworthy person in the continent. After Oscar. Eventually, the Emperor sighed. “Why in earth would you come to the Empire's aid when its people despise you ?”

“As an ally of justice, I-” he interrupted himself, seeing the annoyed frown on Hadrias' face. “Err... Here's my proposal. I'll get rid of these dragons for you.”

The Emperor closed his eyes and rested his head against his palm. There was probably no need to question the Saint's ability, if anyone had the opportunity to read lengthy reports of his fight with Karia, that was Hadrias. The man scoffed and smiled. “...And in exchange ?”

Now comes the hard part. Best make unwanted, outrageous demands first. “Rehabilitate my image. Make me an Imperial hero, find some credible story to explain why Karia was in the wrong and so on. Wealth and land would be nice too.”

Hadrias could only laugh heartily. “Preposterous. The people will never accept you as a saviour coming out of the blue. They may very well think you orchestrated this attack, in fact.”

“Oh, we wouldn't want that,” Azcheron replied with a grimace. Hearing that, the Emperor leaned forward and glared at him silently.

“Indeed, we wouldn't,” he finally said before showing a confident grin. “I wonder what happened to your pride. Weren't you the one saying you wouldn't bend the knee and serve the Empire ? Well, no matter. Consider yourself lucky, Azcheron the Rahal Saint. I personally believe you could do very well as an Imperial hero, though a clear path toward the position is the best you'll get for now. We'll come up with some tale about some kidnapped family and wishes of redemption to explain your betrayal and your return.”

“...Fine with me.” It was more than fine, actually. These were guarantees he couldn't have hoped to get, had he not met the Emperor before the battle. Of course, the Emperor must have been perfectly aware of that. He probably accepted the deal only because it served his own agenda. Azcheron got to his feet and was about to jump back through the hole in the roof when he remembered something. “Oh, by the way. I advise you avoid hiding in the Palace, your majesty. I'm afraid it won't provide much in terms of safety.”

On that note, Azcheron left, without waiting for anyone's reply. He made sure he still had the egg with him, and went to wait in the middle of the plaza, the Palace at his back. In the distance, three shadows roamed the skies, approaching at great speed. He knew that he if was to look around, he'd probably spot Erin and Rudolph laying in wait, ready to finish off any injured dragon that would fell on the ground. Azcheron would be too busy with the healthy ones, so dealing with the crippled would be their job.

He enhanced his sight and observed the opponent. Dark red scales that seemed to be made of molten rocks, large wings and the overall appearance of a killing machine – such were the looks of a red dragon.

These three dragons were probably young adults at most, since they were far smaller than the grey elder he had met. Out of the three, one of them was even smaller, probably a youngster. A brazen, hot-headed one, as it kept growling some sort of insults in his language. They did not make much sense, what with the curious colour metaphors that could only be found in this peculiar tongue.

Nonetheless, it was a rude one, and so Azcheron decided it'd be his first target. He thought about using the siege weapons, but it would take too much time to prepare and it would surely be inefficient. Not that he even knew if he could use these things all by himself. His own magic was his best tool. The dragons were not aware of the Saint's might, so he'd have only one chance at a surprise attack. He gathered a large quantity of mana, like he did against Karia, aimed for the young dragon, but instead of making it explode in an unsafe fashion, he released it as one would throw a dagger.

The twisting, whirling blade of concentrated mana flew toward the dragon at high speed, the sound of its movement reaching Azcheron's ears seconds later. Even from here, he could see clearly the dragon getting sliced in two around his right wing. The two halves of the creature fell from the sky, barely making a noise as they crashed in some far away house.

“One down,” he calmly concluded as he saw Rudolph riding in the direction of the corpse to make sure it was dead. “Only two to go.”