Astarrath slunk through Talheim's muddy back alleys, keeping her cloak wrapped tight and eyes lowered. She could not afford to attract notice here before moving on. That damnable emerald dragon likely still hunted for her, enraged over the powerful artifact she had pilfered from its hoard.

Not that Rath had any regrets over the theft. The beast had scarcely earned such a treasure, dozing atop its pile of baubles. She was the one who knew its true potential for destructive might once she unlocked the relic's sealed power.

No, stealing it had been simple. Escaping the dragon's fiery wrath was proving more difficult. She had hoped to lie low here for a few days before continuing her flight south. But cursed fortune had seen her cross paths with that bothersome priestess and her companions, nearly exposing Rath before she could flee the town.

She cursed the damnable turn her luck had taken. Rath had no intention of tangling with those do-gooders unless absolutely necessary. Their ilk didn't understand that sometimes destruction paved the way for creation. The powers she sought would reshape the world, no matter the cost.

For now, it was imperative she keep off the streets where she might be recognized. These back alleys would have to serve as shelter. Once the priestess and her troupe moved on, Rath could disappear again into the wilderness.

Patience was key, even if it gnawed at her. Every fiber of her being burned to tap into the talisman's power, to feel magic unlimited coursing through her veins. The temptation was maddening. But unleashing such forces here would only draw her enemies down upon her.

So she waited, cursing the cramped streets of this town. Soon, she told herself. Soon, no one would dare stand against her might. For now, she bided her time, moving only in shadow, her stolen prize never leaving her side. Its power called to her always, promising ruin and revolution once unlocked fully. Soon, she thought, soon this world will tremble and bow before me.

Astarrath froze as the boy with tangled brown hair passed by her hiding spot. Impossible! She would recognize the bloodline of the cursed Dragonriders anywhere. What was one of their mongrel whelps doing here, of all forsaken places?

Her shock quickly turned to rage. The ancient pact with those winged beasts had long prevented her kind from realizing their true power. She would not let this opportunity for vengeance slip away.

With serpentine speed, she emerged from the shadows behind the boy, lethal magic already pooling in her palms. Let his accursed lineage die with him now!

But before she could strike, a blade appeared at her throat. "I would reconsider that action, sorceress," a stern woman's voice warned.

Cursing under her breath, Astarrath spun away and came face to face with the priestess and mage who had nearly exposed her days prior. The knight that accompanied them kept his sword leveled at her chest.

"You three again," Astarrath spat. "Meddlesome fools!"

"We cannot allow you to bring harm to innocents," the priestess said evenly.

Astarrath's lip curled in a sneer. "Cannot allow? You are no match for my power!"

To demonstrate, she unleashed a bolt of lightning toward the priestess with a roar. But the mage threw up a shimmering shield to block the blast.

"You are outnumbered, sorceress," he said. "Stand down now."

With a feral cry, Astarrath summoned her full might, determined to eliminate these meddlers. Magic clashed with steel as their battle erupted, raining destruction down upon the alley. Yet despite her lethal spells, the three somehow matched her furious power.

As castle guards came racing to intervene, Astarrath knew she was cornered. With a final bellow of frustration, she drew shadows around herself and vanished from the alley before the guards could restrain her.

Fleeing the city under cover of night, she swore bitter vengeance against those who had ruined her chances yet again. Someday, when power was hers, they would regret ever crossing her path. The priestess, the mage, the knight - she would remember them all.

Astarrath hurried through the night-shrouded wilderness, cursing her failure to eliminate the priestess and her companions. That battle had forced her to flee Talheim before she was ready.

A sudden shadow passing overhead made her heart clench. No, it couldn't be! Whirling around, she saw the unmistakable silhouette of the emerald dragon she had robbed swooping down toward her.

"Damn you, I don't have time for this!" she roared, rolling away as it blasted the ground where she'd stood with liquid flame.

The dragon circled around, bellowing furiously through the trees. "Return what you have stolen, witch!"

Astarrath bared her teeth defiantly, though she knew she could not defeat the beast alone at her current weakened state. But perhaps she could still use it for a different purpose...

Mustering the last of her strength, she wove a spell to dominate the dragon's will. As it dived at her again, she seized control of its mind, bending it to her venomous whisper.

"The ones who denied me vengeance hide in Talheim," she hissed to the thrashing dragon. "Burn them all, leave no one alive!"

With a final cry, the dragon broke free of her control. But the toxic seeds were planted. It took off in the direction of Talheim, rage blinding it to all else.

Astarrath watched the sky in satisfaction. With luck, those meddling fools would perish, and the wretched town would be demolished. She could continue her flight unburdened and return later to claim anything remaining of value from Talheim's ashes.

***

Deron gritted his teeth as the obtuse Lord Megon once again subjected him to tiresome questioning. This backwater provincial ruler was growing perilously close to overstepping his station and trying Deron's patience.

"As I have told you repeatedly, my lord, my companions and I are simple wandering adventurers," Deron recited with barely concealed disdain. "We intend no threat to Talheim."

"I find that difficult to believe," Megon pressed. "Three armed strangers arrive just as doom is prophesied? Your story does not add up."

Deron opened his mouth to put this fool in his proper place when an earth-shaking roar split the air. The Keep walls trembled as shouts rang out from the courtyard.

Megon paled. "The wyrm...it has returned!"

Deron rushed to the window and cursed under his breath. The emerald dragon from before was indeed strafing the outskirts of town, returning for vengeance it seemed. But more concerning was the battalion of armed men marching under foreign banners, making for Talheim's undefended gates.

Megon quailed, confusion and fear across his features. "My walls are not prepared for siege..."

Deron turned on him angrily. "Your walls? Do not speak to me of YOUR walls, you ignorant--"

He halted himself with gritted teeth. Now was not the time to break his guise, not with battle descending upon them.

Deron met Megon's frightened eyes. "My companions and I will face the dragon. Rally what forces you can to guard the gates. Focus only on protecting Talheim - you need not know the rest."

Without waiting for a response, Deron strode swiftly from the chamber. As steel clashed outside, he prepared to confront the wrath bearing down on this town once more. He was no mere adventurer, and would soon remind these invaders why his noble bloodline was revered and feared.

Deron strode purposefully into the chaos erupting through Talheim's streets. The emerald dragon swooped overhead, loosing jets of flame to scatter panicked townsfolk. Deron raised his hands, crafting a shimmering shield of magic over the terrified citizens.

"Foul wyrm!" he thundered, imbuing his voice with preternatural authority. "Your feud is with me! Face my challenge if you dare!"

The dragon wheeled around with a bellow, focusing its molten fury upon this insolent mage. Gathering his power, Deron launched arcane lances of energy toward the diving beast. They impacted against its scaly hide in bursts of light.

The dragon screamed in rage, unleashing a blistering torrent of fire. Deron's shield barely held against the onslaught. This creature's might was beyond anything he had faced before. He would have to fully unleash his noble heritage's power if Talheim had any hope.

As the wyrm circled for another assault, Deron shouted ancient words of potency. His eyes blazed with azure light as mystical currents raced through his veins. For a moment, his guise as a simple mage fell away, revealing his true majesty as one of a Divine Nobles entrusted to govern the realms.

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Deron rose slowly from the ground, coruscating wings of pure magical energy emerging from his back. "Face judgment, vile serpent!" his voice echoed with supernatural authority.

The dragon's massive bulk slammed into his shield, but Deron held fast. With a crash like thunder, he released the magic building within him in a shockwave that reverberated through the streets. The stunned wyrm tumbled back with a pained shriek.

Deron pressed his assault, eyes blazing. Magnificent power flooded his body, reminding him of his true purpose in this backward town - recovering the prophesied heir, not engaging in vulgar brawls.

With a final pulse of brilliance, Deron's magic forced the dragon into panicked retreat. None would stand against his ancient lineage. banking his power, Deron descended back to the ground. The dazed townsfolk could never know his true identity. But he had protected Talheim another day, for his mission here was not yet complete.

***

Dianoia sat imperiously upon her armored destrier as her forces formed up before Talheim's walls. Despite the chaos engulfing the town from the dragon's rampage, everything was proceeding perfectly to plan.

Spurring her mount forward, she was unsurprised to find the timid Lord Megon awaiting her with obvious unease. She fixed him with an icy stare.

"My lord Megon, how fortuitous I arrive now in your time of need," she announced in a carrying voice. "As your betrothed, I bring my strength to bear alongside yours."

Megon shifted nervously. "Lady Dianoia, there seems to be some misunderstanding..." he began weakly.

Dianoia silenced him with a sharp look. "There is no misunderstanding. Our arrangement is set, and I intend to see it through, as any loyal partner would."

Megon quailed under her piercing gaze. Dianoia fought to hide her disgust. How had her father deemed this coward worthy? She would need to rule Talheim solely in all but name.

Yet curiously, she sensed an shrewd intellect hidden beneath Megon's vapid front. Their first meeting had revealed flickers of wit and resolve in stark contrast to his usual feeble demeanor. Perhaps an ally worth cultivating lay buried under the layers of indulgent sloth.

She leaned closer on her horse. "In times of strife, we find our true selves, Lord Megon," she said silkily. "Or reveal ourselves for craven and unfit. Which will you prove to be, I wonder?"

Something sparked in Megon's eyes at her challenge before he masked it. Yes, Dianoia thought. Her true husband in Talheim need not be the simpering milquetoast he appeared. She would keep probing beneath the surface.

For now, there was still a town's submission to orchestrate. Dianoia smiled coolly down at Megon. "Shall we proceed to greet your citizens side by side, my lord? It is time they see us united."

Megon paled slightly but nodded. Dianoia turned her destrier, satisfied. The game was well underway, and she intended to win handily.

***

Megon's mind raced as he walked beside the icy Dianoia, her forces flooding Talheim's streets. Outwardly he maintained his guise of feeble compliance, while inwardly he sought desperately for some counter to her intricate schemes.

In truth, he had stalled signing her fraudulent marriage contract, keeping his official seal hidden even as she tried compelling him before all Talheim. Buying time was his only play currently against her intricate manipulations.

Yet even without a formal declaration, Dianoia clearly considered Talheim hers already. Her silken threats wore down Megon's endurance. And her probing questions gave him a wary respect for her ruthless intellect. This was no mere court lady come to make a political match. Dianoia thirsted for the throne herself, with Talheim as just one stepping stone.

Megon needed allies, yet found himself increasingly isolated. Petro was consumed rallying their beleaguered guard. Rurik had vanished on mysterious errands. And now this damned dragon kept assaulting the increasingly vulnerable city, whittling away what few defenses remained.

Dianoia offered aid repelling the beast, but Megon hesitated, sensing deeper motives. Her forces already outnumbered his own. If the wyrm breached Talheim's walls, she would certainly seize total control in the aftermath.

Glancing sidelong at her sternly beautiful face, Megon wondered if on some level Dianoia hoped for that outcome. His gut said she desired him as a figurehead at best.

No, he decided, for now he still held the governing seal she required. Megon must match wits and wills with this formidable opponent for Talheim's sake. He prayed Rurik succeeded in securing outside help. Alone, Megon feared his best efforts would only delay, not deter, Dianoia's subtle conquest. This hybrid snake had found the perfect nest for her brood. He dared not cede control, or they would all become her playthings...or prisoners.

***

Megon maintained his facade of placid deference as he walked with Dianoia, nodding meekly to her pointed remarks about assuming his "rightful" place beside her. Inwardly, his mind raced for some ploy to undermine her slick machinations.

"I am but a humble lord, my lady," he demurred. "I leave the larger political matters in the wise hands of my betters."

Dianoia gave him a sharp look. "A lord's duty is to embrace his highest ambitions, not shrink from them. Why be content with a backwater when together we might grasp true power?"

Megon looked away diffidently. "You inspire lofty visions, my lady. But I regret I was made for simpler comforts."

Dianoia stepped closer, eyes glinting. "I think not. I have glimpsed the shrewd mind you hide beneath this facade, my lord. Your modesty does you credit, but no longer serves."

Megon pretended confusion. "My lady implies depths I do not possess. You see shadows where none dwell."

"Come now," Dianoia purred. "Why keep playing the dullard for these peasants? Rule beside me, and your name will be spoken alongside mine in the highest halls."

Heart pounding, Megon let his gaze meet hers. "Is that truly what you wish, my lady? To raise a simple lord so high?" He let the question hang pregnant between them.

Dianoia smiled slowly like a cat with a mouse. "At last, a frank conversation. I knew you were wasted moldering here. Together, think what heights we might achieve..."

Megon listened to her wax eloquent about their supposed grand future, probing for weaknesses while revealing none of himself. This deadly dance had only just begun. He must tread lightly, or missteps would prove fatal.

Megon lingered after Dianoia's audience, mind churning with just how entangled he'd become in her complex web. Desperate times called for desperate measures, he decided. It was time to approach the mage Deron and his odd company.

Tracking them down as they aided townsfolk amidst the recovering wreckage, Megon made his proposition. "You claim to be wandering adventurers. If so, I would hire your services protecting Talheim from further chaos and bloodshed."

The imposing woman priestess looked doubtful. "Mercenaries we are not. But we seek to aid where we can."

Megon seized on that. "Then aid us now against those who threaten this town through stealth or strength." He met Deron's shrewd gaze. "Help me safeguard these people."

Deron considered, then nodded. "Very well. We will lend our powers discreetly to maintain order from all who would disrupt it." His look made it clear he included Megon himself in that tally.

Suppressing a sigh of relief, Megon bowed slightly in acknowledgement. "I am grateful for whatever efforts you can provide."

These strange arrivals were clearly more than simple wandering adventurers. But Megon sensed that for now, their aims aligned with his - keeping Talheim from the jaws of destruction.

With their powers, along with Rurik's outside aid, Megon allowed a flicker of hope. Perhaps he could outmaneuver the honey-laced traps Dianoia continued setting and turn this precarious tide. The coming days would severely test Megon's own mettle and determination beneath his unassuming guise. But he must prevail, or forfeit all.

***

Rurik hurried through Talheim's chaotic streets toward the keep, hoping he was not too late. His secret journey to the abandoned temple had uncovered crucial information about the mysterious mage Deron that Lord Megon must know.

Breathless, he found Megon speaking with Deron himself along with the priestess and knight. Rurik hesitated, uncertain how to impart his vital knowledge delicately with Deron present.

Pulling Megon aside, Rurik lowered his voice. "My lord, I have made certain discoveries about this man which complicate matters gravely."

Megon's eyes widened slightly but he kept his composure. "Indeed? Perhaps we should discuss this privately." To Deron he said only, "Pray excuse us a moment. Urgent town matters."

Once sequestered in Megon's study, Rurik quickly outlined all he had learned. "Deron is no mere hedge mage. He is one of the Divine Nobles, entrusted by the Formless as ruler and guardian of the realms."

Megon sank into a chair, stunned. "By the gods...but why is he here?"

Rurik dropped his voice further. "I believe he seeks the lost heir, said to have returned to these lands."

Slowly Megon absorbed this. "An heir...with claim to the empty throne?" He met Rurik's eyes. "That would shift every balance of power across the realms."

Rurik nodded grimly. "What do we make of this revelation, my lord?"

Megon considered, then smiled craftily. "We say nothing for now. But closely observe Deron's actions for clues to this heir. Such influence could profoundly aid Talheim."

Bowing in acquiescence, Rurik departed to heed Megon's instructions. But inwardly, he wondered if they tread dangerous ground meddling unawares with the ambitions of one who could unmake realms at a word. Such games oft bore a terrible price...

***

Aeron gritted his teeth as the blunt training sword clacked against his shield yet again. Across the dusty courtyard, Shamsul pressed the attack, keeping Aeron on the defensive.

"Keep that shield up!" the guardsman called out. "Careful footwork now - don't get backed against the wall!"

Though only thirteen, Aeron had begged Shamsul to teach him real fighting skills, not just boyish scuffling. At first reluctant, the dutiful guardsman had finally agreed when Aeron's persistence wore him down.

Now they trained whenever Shamsul could spare time from his responsibilities defending Talheim. Aeron absorbed every lesson eagerly, determined to become as skilled with a blade as the famous heroes in epic poems.

Ducking beneath Shamsul's swing, Aeron dove in for a low strike at the guard's shins. But Shamsul casually sidestepped the blow.

"Oh ho, nicely done!" he laughed. "But watch your overcommitting there."

Aeron flushed, embarrassed by the obvious mistake. He had much to learn yet about controlling his enthusiasm in a fight. Shamsul may pretend to indulge him, but Aeron burns to truly prove himself as a worthy pupil in swordplay.

Rotating his sore shield arm, Aeron steadied himself for the next bout. He knew many, like his brother Tomas, thought him foolish chasing heroic dreams. But Shamsul took Aeron's aspirations seriously, for which he was grateful.

Someday, tales would be told of Aeron's own brave deeds, he was certain. Until then, he focused on perfecting each skill Shamsul imparted, one lesson at a time. He may be an unlikely hero now, but life could change suddenly. Aeron intended to be ready when destiny called him to courageous action.

Aeron shuffled down the castle corridor, bone-weary after hours of sword drills but pleased with his progress. Shamsul said his footwork was improving and his shield arm growing stronger.

Lost in thoughts of future lessons, Aeron rounded a corner and suddenly found himself face to face with the imposing mage Deron, one of the mysterious new arrivals. The man's piercing eyes froze Aeron in his tracks.

"You there, boy," Deron said commandingly. "What is your name?"

Aeron hesitated. Something about the mage's intense gaze unnerved him.

"I'm...Aeron, sir," he managed finally, timidity overtaking his usual exuberance.

Deron studied him intently for a long moment. Aeron fidgeted, uneasy with the scrutiny. Why was this stranger so interested in him?

"Tell me Aeron, how old are you now?" The mage's tone was casual, but his eyes bored into Aeron's.

The probing questions were too much. Without a word, Aeron turned and fled back down the corridor, heart pounding. He felt the mage's gaze following him until he turned a corner and left Deron's sight.

Pressed against the wall, Aeron breathed heavily, unable to explain his panicked reaction. Something about Deron rattled him to his very core. All his youthful bravado evaporated before those ancient eyes.

Shaken, Aeron ducked out a side door and lost himself in Talheim's crowded streets, putting as much distance between himself and the unnerving mage as possible. He dared not speak of the encounter to anyone. Let it be forgotten.

Yet Aeron knew deep down the strange fear Deron evoked would linger. Whatever the mage sought from him, Aeron resolved to avoid another meeting at all costs. His dreams of heroism seemed childish fantasies now when faced with true power and authority. Aeron was not ready for such a confrontation. For now, he took comfort just being an ordinary boy in the safety of the streets he knew.

Despite his fearful encounter with the mage Deron, Aeron felt compelled to face him again. After all, he owed the man his life.

During the dragon's first rampage, it was Deron who had shielded Aeron and his mother amidst the chaos and flames. Aeron had fled before properly thanking him. His courage demanded he rectify that, whatever inner tremors the stern mage's presence evoked.

Finding Deron conferring with the priestess and knight, Aeron approached hesitantly. "Master Deron, I wanted to properly express my gratitude for protecting my mother and I from the dragon."

Deron turned that piercing gaze on Aeron, who forced himself to maintain eye contact this time.

"There is no need for thanks, boy," Deron said finally. "Safeguarding the innocent is my duty." His tone had softened slightly.

Emboldened, Aeron pressed on. "Still, we surely would have perished without your aid, sir. Your actions were most heroic."

Something flickered in the mage's eyes at Aeron's words. "You remind me of... someone I once swore to protect," Deron murmured cryptically, almost to himself.

Sensing a melancholy behind the man's stern exterior, Aeron dared ask, "This person you speak of - did you care for them?"

Deron looked at him directly. "More than my own life."

Aeron was taken aback by the sudden vulnerability in that admission. Deron may intimidate him, but Aeron realized they shared common ground - a desire to defend those they hold dear.

Unsure what else to say, Aeron simply met Deron's gaze and said solemnly, "I will remember your bravery and sacrifice, sir."

Deron studied him a long moment before inclining his head. "And I yours, for overcoming fear. Now go, and stay out of trouble."

His mother had been right about manners, Aeron reflected as he departed. Even the frightening could become friendly through simple courtesy.