Current date in world: July 19, 2326 TP
A Black Dragon had come.
And not just any Black Dragon. An ancient Black Dragon by the name of Mavrodaxius. Tales of the dreaded dragon went back centuries. Agenor was not the first kingdom to have a city sacked by the dragon. Many tales passed by bards and warriors throughout the years told of Mavrodaxius ravaging through villages and kingdoms centuries ago, destroying great cathedrals and castles, defiling rivers and lakes, stealing livestock and ruining crops. The worst parts of the stories always involved the treasure and the people. The scaled beast would break into treasuries of the wealthiest nobles and work his way through to the pockets of the lowliest of workers. The foul dragon deeply coveted gold and treasure like most any other dragon, but he had derived a wicked pleasure in the act of taking it away. And once he had taken everything save for the lives of his prey, he would relish in their pain and slowly erode that life away. His servants would taunt and torture those he took. He would make false bargains to return captives in exchange for more treasure, but he never returned what he took for the ransoms. Eventually, once he tired of his games, he would devour his captives, but even still that was not enough. He had to make every last moment of their lives pure agony. He would pickle his victims using the fell, miasmatic liquid that seeped from his jaws. Both humans and dwarves he enjoyed to feast on, but most of all he enjoyed devouring Crownborn maidens. For Crownborn maidens were able to produce the one thing that could slay him.
A Bellatorex.
Warriors born from a far more ancient world, Bellatorexes were endowed with holy powers from the Holy Crown Regalia of the gods. Their original purpose was to slay the malefic dragons during the old ages where dragons fought against each other in world quaking wars. Only those who were born directly of divine lineages could become Bellatorexes; only those chosen for greater purposes could take on such great responsibility, those who are called Crownborn. Aurelio had been told the ancient stories from his youth, of a time where entire armies consisted of all Crownborn who were Bellatorexes. Such fanciful tells had filled his younger self with a dream to revive the glory of the past. He had gone through rigorous years of training and finally underwent the ritual to turn him into a king among warriors. Aurelio studied and read the histories and the lore pertaining to his dream. One thing always stood out to him. One thing that regardless of where he looked, the consensus was the same. Dragons became virtually invincible once they reached a particular age, most scholars argued around the age of adult, which for most dragons was about a century. The only thing that could slay a dragon of adult age or older, was another dragon or a Bellatorex. In order to provide Bellatorexes with the tools necessary to achieve their purposes, the smithing god Hephaestus used the Holy Crown Regalia to bless the world where in which a powerful ore grew within her great earthen veins. Bellatorite was born of the same power which gave the dragons their breaths and elemental affinities. After the ancient days passed, and the wars were deemed to be over, Bellatorexes and Bellatorite began to slowly disappear and fade away, but were not entirely forgotten, nor did they entirely die out. In the current day and age, they had become archaic.
These days, Bellatorexes had become more of a status symbol than a calling. Aurelio hated that. Sure, he loved the status and prestige that came with being a Bellatorex, but it was worth nothing to him if it was not paired with the holy purpose of its origin. Most of his fellow counts and dukes respected the title not out of reverence, but out of fear and greed. Whoever was or had a Bellatorex in his command sworn by oath was magnified greatly in power and wealth. That was how Aurelio became a count. When he had successfully passed the ritual and ascended to a Bellatorex form, the king officially recognized his achievement with the status promotion and an envious royal stipend. Since there were no available cities in the kingdom for a new count, the king decided to have a new city built close to the royal capital city to legitimize Aurelio’s promotion. Grateful for such favor and glory from the king, Aurelio respectfully declined having the new city built, and instead made a plead to his liege to let him rebuild a forgotten and abandoned city in the Thasos Province. At the time, Aurelio knew border raids and small skirmishes from northern enemies were becoming more and more frequent. He held great respect for Duke Belus and wished to help him fortify the northern border against the scum of Daxodias. The king had been moved by Aurelio’s sound reasoning and his stalwart valor, and granted his request. The kingdom had become stronger than ever, and had a total of seven Bellatorexes amongst its five provinces. Thasos had been one of the two provinces that had two Bellatorexes.
Aurelio gazed out at his people; he was proud yet a great hollow feeling had been lingering in him. Yes, he had been victorious, he had slain the great evil, Mavrodaxius, and he was most likely going to become the new duke of Thasos. But the cost was heavy. Duke Belus, a great leader, father and protector was dead. Aurelio desired dukedom, it was the highest he could go in the kingdom save for being the crown prince or the king, however, he never would have wanted it to have been this way. Aurelio had looked up to Duke Belus as a father figure; his own father had died in defense of the kingdom many years ago before he had become a full-grown man, and when he trained under Duke Belus, he had found another father. He would always respect and honor the sacrifice his father made for the kingdom and he saw in Duke Belus the will of his father still living and breathing in service to the kingdom. Aurelio had sought out the same Silver Dragon that had given her blood to turn Duke Belus into a Bellatorex. He remembered the cold eyes, staring as if into the very depths of his soul. A chill came over him yet it was comforting, and it filled him with strength and confidence. She spoke the Draconic tongue in an elegant almost melodic way. The words sang in his mind once again. Only blood given willingly from a dragon host can create a Bellatorex. I give mine to you now so that you may be a pillar of justice and light in a world that weeps. May the grace of Bahamut and Zendivos be with you always. Those words helped ease some of the pain; some of the emptiness he felt. He needed to stay strong, for his city, for the kingdom, and for his family. The people kept cheering for him. Children on both sides of the road carried small hand-woven baskets full of flower petals that they tossed to rain down on him in celebratory glory. Yes, this was good, he would continue to ride and bask in the glory and— what in the shining Crown Regalia was that?
Great and lofty banners were erected off to the side on a branching road leading to the main road that Aurelio was riding on. The banners bore a crest of three burning black spires; the crest of Duke Wingurich. Right when he was overcoming his darkened mood something else had to come pushing its way in to make sure he could not have his much deserved; his much-needed peaceful time of rest. Though Aurelio respected the duke out of duty recognizing his services to the king and the kingdom, he found the man to be very distasteful. The duke flaunted his wealth every where he went. He always had to have the most decorated entourages. Everyone in his company had to look better than anyone else outside of it, even the lowliest of ranks he would shower in the most expensive finery just to gloat. The man had been quite the fighter in his early years and had been considered to be the exemplar of peak physical form during his time as an active general. After a grueling battle where he had slain the goblin king of Southern Zenikardia, he had suffered many wounds having been stabbed and lacerated multiple times by swords and spears, the duke retired from the battlefield. That battle had been twenty years ago, and despite the best efforts of the clerics and healers, some of his wounds had never fully healed. Ever since he moved with a strange gait which was not made any better by all the weight he had gained over the past two decades. Aurelio used to envy the confident, proud way Duke Wingurich rode on an Agenorian destrier, but it had been years since anyone had actually seen the duke on a horse. These days the duke always rode by carriage.
To his dismay, Aurelio saw several things that made the presence of the duke’s company even worse. It seemed that the duke had brought many of his children. He was a rather lustful man and had had countless maidens and mistresses come to his bed over the years. The duke had fathered so many bastards Aurelio would have wagered that the man had lost count of how many children he actually had. Aurelio had himself a mistress and a bastard born daughter, but his were quite commendable exceptions as opposed to the debauchery of Duke Wingurich. It seemed the duke had brought an entire battalion of bastards with him all adorned in his house colors of orange, yellow and black. Worst of all though, the duke had brought the king’s royal jester, Grand High Master Jester Fidivos. This Fidivos was a mysterious man, apparently no one knew his origins or how old he exactly was, and most importantly no one knew if he was Crownborn or not. The first princess, the eldest daughter of the king, had taken a liking to him and had convinced the king to make the new position with the very exaggerated title no doubt being something that Fidivos had whispered to the princess to act in his favor. On a whim, the king had made Fidivos equivalent in rank to a count though with none of the material privileges allotted to one. The mere fact that a court jester of undisclosed blood heritage shared the same rank as him made Aurelio gloomful. He had made a Crown Oath to serve the king and the kingdom until his death. Though he could make claims, complaints and criticisms of the king if it was truly in desire to help the king and the kingdom, he dared not bring up this jester. It was beneath him. Instead, whenever this Fidivos was in attendance, Aurelio did whatever he could to ignore or undermine the jester. Though if he became the duke of Thasos perhaps he would have no need to anymore.
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For the sake of noble propriety, Aurelio grudgingly approached Duke Wingurich’s company to formally greet them. Before he could say anything the door of the duke’s carriage swung wide open. There stood the second most powerful man in the entire kingdom, the duke of Athanaric Province, Thorismund Wingurich. He was adorned in jewels and golden bangles. A crown of Black Bellatorite lay upon his head and there was a ring on every one of his fingers. And a robe of exceedingly intricate detail, repeating a pattern of a burning spire was wrapped around him. The large man moved slowly, but with a sense of force and power still despite his girth and gait. “My dear Count Ortansio,” he said with a very heavy and pompous tone. “It has been months since we have last seen each other. Your dear old Duke Wingurich started to miss seeing you at the royal court, so he decided to come surprise you with a special visit.”
“I know full well the reason why you are here,” Aurelio said trying his best to maintain a neutral and formal tone. “I welcome you here to my city as an honorary guest from the royal court. But I will not play these games with you, Duke Wingurich.”
“What games? You think it is a game that I would take all this time and effort to pay a visit to an old friend to see how he is doing?”
Aurelio contemplated.
Duke Wingurich had taken the same Crown Oath he had so he need not worry about the duke betraying the king or the kingdom. However, the duke always found ways to keep his sacred oath while lining his pockets and belittling his rival counts and dukes. Aurelio knew the duke had been given an order by the crown to assist in the hunt for Mavrodaxius, but envoys had been sent nine days ago to intercept his company to let him know his help was no longer needed. Why was he here? What was he scheming?
“You came here to claim glory and have the foul beast that plagued this land as your trophy,” Aurelio asserted. “You took your time coming here to help with your reinforcements and you were hoping by the time you arrived that the beast would have been weakened enough by your allies that you could have swooped in and taken the kill as your own. Hoping for our deaths would have broken your Crown Oath, but exploiting our sacrifices was well within your limits.” Aurelio knew better. He should not have made such accusations to the duke, but from the moment he saw the duke’s company everything in him started to boil and he just could not help but let some of the steam that was his inner thoughts out.
“Lord Aurelio,” Duke Wingurich said with a strong sense of sincerity in his voice. “You know better than anyone that it takes time to rally soldiers and to make sure all the proper preparations are made, especially for a purpose of such importance. I came as fast as I could while maintaining my company to the highest degree of quality. What good would it have been if I had rushed here with exhausted soldiers and you had needed the help to win the battle?”
“Pardon me, but your company looks more like its ready to go on a festival parade than to battle.”
“Well, of course, you know me. I brought entertainment. It helps keep morale of the soldiers up. It’s also a not-so-secret indulgence of mine, and good entertainment is never a bad thing. I also bring gifts, both small and large. The small one I like better than the large one only because I get to have some as well. But the large one, that is a surprise for later.”
“You, giving gifts?” Aurelio could not fathom that the duke would ever consider such a concept unless it involved some substantial return in exchange. “That is quite unheard of I must say. As far as I can remember, unless the king is present, you’re always the one receiving the gifts.”
“Oh, Lord Aurelio, you hurt me. I cannot help that I am so attractable to givers of gifts. I admit, it is a great fault of mine. Being too desirable to please comes with both its benefits and its downsides. It would be disrespectful to decline gifts. It would be dishonorable, and I am an honorable man, so I must always accept that which is given to me.”
“The only small and large gifts that I would like right now are peace and quiet. The past two months have been long and hard. You know nothing of what I have been through. If you knew how I felt, if you knew what I have seen and what I have experienced, then you would be on your merry way back to Athanaric.”
“My lords,” a new voice said. It sounded very refined and the words came out long and melodic.
Aurelio recognized the voice instantly.
It was Fidivos.
“I see that we are feeding the fire,” Fidivos continued. “Before the party has even begun. If there is no fuel for the flames, how are we to cook the meat when it is time to feast?”
Aurelio shifted his eyes from Duke Wingurich to the strange man who held the title Grand High Master Jester. Fidivos rode in a chariot pulled by a single horse. He was garbed in a strange Utakadian robe called a Yichang. The sleeves were long and opened widely at where the hands came out, though Fidivos had a habit of always concealing his hands inside the sleeves. Despite how much the duke tried to show off his own personal raiment, Fidivos was giving him ample competition. His Yichang had golden patterns running all along it, though it was not as detailed as the duke’s, the Utakadian robe made up for it in a unique way. It flowed like leaves in a calm wind. Every movement that Fidivos made was graceful and elegant. He could have easily been mistaken for an elf the way he moved. But apparently, he was a human man. Perhaps the most peculiar part of his appearance was that of a bizarre red mask he wore that covered the upper half of his face. A black lens that completely hid his eyes was fixated in the mask. Where his eyes would be there were instead black circles filled in and a third black circle in between them. Coming down out of the black circles were long, slender, black claw-like prongs. The side ones curved in slightly near the bottom and the center one went straight down. The only exposed skin that could be seen on him was the unobscured areas of the lower half of his face. He had no facial hair and he had long straight black hair on his head. The little amount of visible skin around his mouth was pale tan in color. Every time Aurelio saw the mask, he could not help but think that it seemed awfully eerie for a jester’s mask.
“As much as I would enjoy to watch you two rambling on, there are certain things that must take order.” Fidivos smiled, it was somewhat unsettling with the blank, black spots over his eyes staring dead at him. “I must apologize, Lord Ortansio, for this disturbance. I know you are very tired and very strained. It’s just that my good Lord Wingurich has become so fat that he needed some exercise. Seeing you so stoic, brave and strong. It was quite moving. It gave him the motivation he needed to finally get his large buttocks up and walk around for a bit.”
Aurelio sat there petrified on his horse.
Fidivos had just insulted the most powerful man in the kingdom, save for the king himself, right in front of his face with absolutely no hesitation. The duke had been known to severely punish even Crownborn for insults of lesser degree. Was the jester mad?
Duke Wingurich just chuckled in response. “Master Fidivos, I believe you are correct. In fact, I’ll walk the rest of the way to the city palace. It shouldn’t be too far. I indeed need some exercise. Well, Lord Aurelio. I’ll be seeing you later at the palace. If I get there before you, then you owe me one thousand gold skwama.” The duke bowed his head to Aurelio and then with the best of his ability, he started to walk in the direction to the city palace. Several of his attendants rushed out of the carriage and started to follow him. A few soldiers on horseback followed as well. However, a large part of the company, including the duke’s carriage remained. Fidivos was also still there staring at him.
The jester seemed so calm; he had seemingly taken over the situation. He was in control. The air around him as if in recognition of his prowess stirred. It was as if the majestic ripples of his robe were simply moving according to his will.
Aurelio recalled the last thing the duke had said. He would never have agreed to a bet with the duke. Even if the bet in question, involved the duke completely losing the usage of his legs and being forced to crawl, Aurelio still would not agree to a bet. The duke always found ways to win regardless of limitations. The only way to win bets against the duke was to simply not bet against him at all. But ignoring him when he wanted your attention was also dangerous. Walking the fine line between avoiding his games and avoiding his wrath, was an art that Aurelio had learned over years of interacting with the duke at the royal court.