504.83 years earlier (~1 year after closing the Rift)...

The Circle of Pentory, New Valour

"The dragons are a problem."

Questellion stared at his King, Uthen Regicast, resplendent in his formal attire and flowing azure cape, as he pounded a fist on the circular stone table and repeated the words.

"The dragons are a problem."

"It's been almost a year since we closed the Rift," Elf Lord Savrenias said. He was one of the three members of the Circle who'd survived that night after Questellion and the King. The new leaders of the troll and dwarf factions sat on either side of him. "Many of the other Monsters have accepted this new reality, and seeing the shrines some have even offered to help collect Heroic Energy on their own accord. Why not the dragons?"

"Yes..." King Regicast said, rubbing his temple. "We all acknowledge the shrines to the Creator were a brilliant idea, Savrenias. You don't need to bring it up every time we meet."

"The dragons are not fighting for those Monsters.," The Troll Chieftain said. "They are fighting for the ones who refuse to accept that we saved their lives."

"I'm not concerned about the Monsters. They will all relent in time," the King said. "I say again. The dragons are the problem."

Questellion looked at him, skeptical.

"Time dulls all emotion. Time takes what is lost and shrouds it in myth. The Monsters will forget about mana and magic. Just look at our own children. We've been here three generations, and they don't even know gnomes or goblins ever existed." The others shifted uncomfortably. "None of us in this room ever even saw one outside a book. Just imagine, in four or five generations these races will be nothing but legend. And Monsters don't age as long as us. Mana will be a myth or erased completely if we do our jobs correctly. But we need to act now.

"And that starts with the dragons. As long as they fight, the memories will not fade."

"How do they still have enough Mana reserves to fight us?" Savrenias asked.

Fight, fight fight... He'd tried to prevent this after they closed the Rift. After what they’d done to Cepheus. Many Monsters were placated after they depleted their Mana, as Savrenias said. With no source to replenish, they had little choice...

Except the dragons.

They would not relent. Even in his secret meetings with the children of Cepheus, they nearly roasted Questellion alive more than once for his role in this debacle.

But they were beyond peace now. Eventually, the dragons would break through the defenses at the Rift. All the sacrifices would have been for nothing. The world would once again crumble. He didn't know if the dragons could open it again or not, but it wasn't worth the risk.

"There must be a hidden mana pool somewhere," the Troll Chieftain mused. "Or a leak in the Rift?"

"Don't be ridiculous," the Dwarf Lord said. "If that were the case, we'd see the other Monsters using magic as well."

Questellion tried to ignore the conversation by staring up at the intricate stained glass mural in the central port of the dome above. Ironically, it depicted swirls of both Mana and Heroic Energy flowing through different areas of the world in unison.

It would never be so again.

Even the Humanoid races could hardly exist in harmony, let alone the two disparate magical forces and their users.

"The dragons could be hoarding it," the troll said matter-of-factly, bringing Questellion's attention back. "It makes sense if they wanted to limit the Mana's use to the most effective combatants. It's what I would do." He smiled devilishly, as if he thought he might have survived the battle with Cepheus, unlike his predecessor. "If we had finite Heroic Energy, I wouldn't let a single dwarf touch it."

The Dwarf Lord scrambled to his feet, grabbing the hammer from beside his chair. "Why you little—"

King Regicast stood with outstretched hands. "Calm down. Lest we forget who the true enemy is here." He paused and motioned for the dwarf to return to his seat before sitting himself. "Chieftain Questellion, you've been quiet. What's your theory on this matter? How do the dragons continue to access Mana?"

Questellion sighed. Hidden Mana pools, sources beyond the World Gates, those were all possible. His thoughts differed, though. "Dragons are not like other Monsters. I’m not even sure they should be categorized as Monsters at all. Perhaps they just process Mana differently. Their reserves last longer. I don't know."

"Even the dragon expert doesn't know!" the Dwarf Lord said.

The conversation continued to devolve.

King Regicast sat in his chair, smug, allowing the chaos to continue for several moments. The unknown gave way to fear, which further matured into anger. Cries for violence were thrown about. As well as demands for increased defenses in the cities. Quests to investigate and map every single Gate.

Regicast pulled a large rolled parchment from a holder beside his chair, ignoring the aggressive voices and raised fists. He lifted the parchment in the air and allowed it to unfurl like a bedsheet, covering nearly the entire table.

So you do have an idea. Clever bastard.

Despite their conversations on the matter, Regicast had never seen fit to inform him of his plans to address it. It seems the time is now.

The other members of the Circle silenced, curious, and leaned over the table for a better view.

The parchment turned out to be a comprehensive map of Pentory. Several locations were circled in red ink.

"We don't need to defend the cities. We don't need to investigate the Gates. That would spread our resources. We only need to defend one location." King Regicast placed his finger on the artistic rendition of New Valour.

"Of course you'd want to defend the human city," the Dwarf Lord accused. "But what about the rest of us?"

"Not the city," the King replied. He moved his finger slightly to reveal a small red circle located within the city. There were many others strewn about the map, but he targeted this one specifically.

"I don't understand," The Elf Lord said.

Questellion's eyes widened. He investigated the map in more detail. The red circles are the locations of every World Gate. But Regicast wants to defend only one location. That means...

King Regicast picked up a quill and drew an arrow from the closest red circle all the way to New Valour. Then he drew another from the next World Gate. Then another. And another.

The Circle was silent until the map was littered with lines all ending in New Valour.

"You want to move the World Gates," Questellion whispered.

Regicast nodded. "To a single, centralized location. Conveniently adjacent to the Lazurite Stone. We remove the risk of needing to travel all around the world to acquire Heroic Energy. Caravans will be attacked less frequently. If there is a Mana source beyond the Gates, we prevent access for dragons—and don’t allow them to run and hide. If there's a pool somewhere here, it will eventually run dry. We wait them out."

Wait them out? This had never been Regicast's style. This whole solution was out of character. It changed little about their current predicament. There's something else at play here. What are you hiding, Regicast? What do you know that I don't?

"Then the dragons eventually run out of Mana," Savrenias continued. "They'll be powerless."

"We win the war," the King said.

Questellion frowned.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

War?

They'd, of course, been defending against the dragon onslaught after closing the Mana Rift—after defeating their leader. My friend... But no one had ever said anything about war.

"Wait," Savrenias said, leaning closer over the map. "What about—"

"No," Regicast interrupted, placing his hand over an empty spot on the map where there should have been one more Gate. "No one can ever find that one."

"How in the Creator's name do you expect to move all the Gates?" the Dwarf asked, incredulous. "Is it even possible?"

King Regicast folded his hands on the table. "Preparations have already begun."

Questellion glared at the King, but he intentionally avoided eye contact. He had kept this in the dark, as well.

"The Monsters who make their homes near the Gates will be harmless without their Mana," Regicast continued. A far cry from 'if anything this will balance the power' between Monsters and Humanoids, my old friend. "All we need to do is relocate them to new homes and allow our engineers to unearth and transport the Gates."

"You're forgetting about the dragons," the Dwarf Lord said.

"I never forget about the dragons, Rustigan," the King countered with a furrowed brow. "In fact, that is the ultimate reason I asked you all here today." He stood and began pacing around the table, hands clasped behind his back. "I am assembling an elite force to handle our scaled friends. The primary goal is distraction. Keep the dragons away from the Gates during transport."

"That seems too easy," the Troll Chieftain said.

"Dragons are self-righteous, arrogant beasts," the Elf Lord offered. "They see themselves as the gods over the other Monsters. If they sense a disturbance, they will investigate, if only to satisfy their own pride."

"Precisely," Regicast said.

The troll picked at a crack in one of his tusks, thinking to himself. "We will need to ensure this disturbance is more noteworthy than whatever is happening at the Gates."

"Indeed."

"What did you have in mind, Regicast?"

The King had made his way around the table and was back at his own chair. He stood behind it and gripped the backrest. "The details are unnecessary at this time. What I need now is to build this elite force. This is where you all come in. I'd like you to seek out the most skilled of your races. The top mages, rogues, hunters, warriors, paladins... We will need a wide array of talent to accomplish this feat."

"I'll volunteer myself if it actually means ridding ourselves of those fire breathers," the Dwarf Lord said, lifting his hammer onto the table.

You wouldn't be so eager if you were there a year ago. If you'd seen Cepheus burn your prior Lord’s corpse to ash.

Regicast raised a hand to calm the fool dwarf, but grinned.

He'd already stoked the flames of hatred here. And even before, far earlier than I thought, Questellion realized. The King's expression was far too satisfied. He'd planned this all. Not just today, but from the moment they voted to seal the Rift.

This was always your endgame, wasn't it?

I've been the fool.

"Once you identify your candidates for this squad, I will hold a tournament of skill. The top performers will earn the honor of a spot with the elite force. This is a task suited for the best. We cannot afford any mistakes or..." the King paused, clearly trying with all his mental strength to avoid looking at the dwarf. "...inadequacies."

After additional clarification and meaningless discussion, King Regicast adjourned the Circle of Pentory. Questellion remained seated as the other lords left the room.

Regicast slumped back into his chair, the regal air deflating from his persona. As much as he was a king, he was also just a man. He looked more the latter now.

They sat in silence for a while. The pressure of this moment, these decisions, weighing on them both.

Finally, the King spoke. "You wish to have a word with me, Quest?"

"I'm honestly not sure what to say," he admitted, his stubby green fingers tracing the marble swirls of the table.

"We've been friends a long time. Speak your mind."

Despite that friendship, he had to choose his words carefully. Regicast's ambition of late was troubling, and he no longer knew where he drew the line to justify his actions.

"My mind is clouded, Regi," Questellion said.

Regicast nodded. "It is understandable. We live in a dark age with new storms at every turn. As one bolt of lightning strikes, yet another is already charged to challenge us again. I'm not sure what I can do to help you personally. But I hope our path ahead will ease the way."

"Clarity," Questellion said.

Regicast raised a questioning eyebrow.

"You can add clarity."

He sat forward and folded his hands together. "I'll do my best."

Questellion itched the side of his chin buried beneath the trimmed salt and pepper beard. "We may live in a storm-filled dark age, true. But I wonder... Are we the lightning? What is our goal in all this?"

The King smiled wryly. "To live happily ever after, of course."

"I'm being serious."

"As am I." Regicast stood once again, this time walking to the wall behind his chair.

A sprawling tapestry hung there, sewn with a battle scene from the unnamed wars of the First Age of Pent, long before Questellion's own battles in the Flame War.

Regicast brushed a hand across the fabric. "Our people have always been hanging on the precipice of survival by no more than the barest of threads. A slight weakness, an unexpected tremor... and we might fall. We defeated the threat of the Rift tearing this world asunder. When our ancestors first arrived in Pentory, they overcame the onslaught of the Monsters. And before that, our homeworld..."

He shuddered, no doubt thinking of those who were left behind. Then he looked over a shoulder at Questellion. "This is simply our next test from the Creator. Peace is there, Quest. Right around the corner." He turned back and placed a hand on the tapestry. "I can taste it. It will not be easy. The storm will rage even more fiercely before it clears. But sunlight will break through the clouds, my friend. Perhaps not for you and I. Our descendants though. They might live in a world void of strife, where happiness can truly be achieved."

Questellion shook his head. A fairytale indeed. "You act as if these events have been a gauntlet solely for us. That, should we conquer them, we will find serenity."

"Is that not your view?"

"There is no end to the gauntlet, Regi. It's just life. There will always be something. The next calamity. The next test. The next poor decision."

"Poor... decision?"

Questellion clenched his jaw. My emotions are getting the better of me.

"You doubt my judgement." Regicast did not turn away from the tapestry to look at him.

"No. I..." His mind was blank, digging a deeper hole into this argument. "It's not your judgement I question."

King Regicast remained silent, facing away, unreadable.

"When we began this," Questellion said. "When we closed the Rift, our goal was to protect the world from destruction. We knew there would be consequences. Cepheus was the first one. The remaining dragons are the second."

"You wonder why we must take their magic away?"

Questellion stood and stepped toward the tapestry, but Regicast didn't acknowledge his approach.

"Your mind is indeed clouded, Quest. You have a soft heart for the dragons. Likely born of your own guilt." He chuckled. "If Cepheus had known Questellion the Bloodbreaker, I'm not so sure he'd have ever called you a friend."

Questellion winced, the memories of his past threatening to resurface. The guilt is mine to bear, but that doesn't make the feelings any less valid. Something about all this is wrong.

"Nevertheless," Regicast continued, "I can provide this clarity you so desperately seek. Your perspective is tainted by your guilt and your sympathy for the beasts. For they are just that, Chieftain Questellion... Beasts. You claim they should not be categorized as Monsters, but that is what dragons are. Down to their very souls. In the truest sense of the word, they are monsters."

The King cast a hand at the tapestry, his motion lingered on a specific scene.

You don't need to remind me of the destruction dragons are capable of. Questellion studied the scene, regardless.

Dragons soared through the sky, strings of flame trailing from their open mouths with reckless abandon as massive fires rampaged below. Black skeletal figures writhed among the red and orange threads, the Humanoid races they belonged to barely distinguishable.

If you think to persuade me with actions from hundreds of years ago, you know me less than I credit you, Regi. Of all the people in the world, I know—hope—that one's past acts have no bearing on their present feelings or outlook, whether human, orc, dragon, or even slime. He prayed to the Creator each night for this exact sanctity, even after all these years.

That he could be forgiven for his own history.

Regicast finally turned to face him. "Even in the brief times of peace, the dragons were never docile. You know this is true. Deep down. It is not in their nature. They are bred for violence. They are bred to conquer. And they know no other way."

How many conversations had he had with Cepheus on this very topic? The King may have doubts about his tainted perspective, but his own was equally flawed.

After the bloodshed, no one but me sought to understand the dragons and other Monsters. They did not seek war. Regicast was correct about their pride though. A pride that demanded the revenge now being rained down upon the Humanoid races for betraying Cepheus and the injustices done to the Monsters.

What Regicast forgets is that this rage was instigated by us. That before we came to Pentory, this land saw centuries of peace under draconic rule.

No. They were not bred for conquering... But protection. And they are still protecting to this very day. Protecting from invaders that had made themselves at home in their land. That had severed their link to Mana. They must wonder... What would these invaders do next?

"You are eerily silent," Regicast said. "As much as your heart sings for them, the dragons will never cease their rampage."

"Have you ever stopped to consider if we're the villains in this tale?"

"There are no villains. There are Monsters and there are Humanoids. The fact of the matter is this... The die have already been cast. The Creator's will is what brought us to this place. He opened that Gate where there should have been none and said, 'Here is your sanctuary.' In the end, one of us will perish. Dragons or Humanoids.

"I, for one, refuse to believe the Creator rescued us and brought us here simply to sink into our graves anyway. As much as the dragons and Monsters refuse to hear it, we saved this world from falling apart. That was the Creator's will. Perhaps it is his will that we take up the mantle of stewardship over this land as well."

The Creator's will... Questellion had done so much in His name already. A justification that now feels ruefully inadequate.

"A war is coming, Quest. And the victor will preside over an era of peace unlike any other. The only question is whether you'd rather see it from here or below the dirt." The conviction in his voice was unnerving. This was not a man whose mind could be changed.

I doubt even the Creator can change this course now.

Questellion looked at his friend's clenched hands, knuckles white as bone. Those hands—should he refuse to fight—may very well be the ones holding the shovel above his grave...