The dimming summer afternoon sun streaked through the glass-stained windows of the silver brick lined room. Tapestries with the design of Arten’s grand seal—two crossed swords with the maw of a mighty dragon enclosing around them, as if attempting to eat them—were carefully placed along the walls. Suits of metal armor were placed directly underneath each, holding long swords with their hands crossed atop the pommel. A long, velvet, red carpet with yellow-blue diamond patterns strewn down made its way from the archway entry of the room to a rather unusual sight for this time of day at the other end.
A man around his thirties, dressed in a mostly black cloaked outfit sat at an elegantly carved wood desk. It was quite a spectacle with its lingering swirling and popping designs. Atop it was a candlestick adorned in an iron holster with a curved loop protruding the side, a sharply feathered quill, some parchment, and another brilliantly designed piece—a steel inkwell. He grasped onto his feather quill from beside the parchment set before him. His face hardened, showing the scar cutting from the top right of his temple which silently faded away past his eye. This man was not sure what to do, but finally spoke up, “So you seek an audience with the King?”
“Aye. That I do,” said the man across from him. He scratched his beard stubble. He had some slightly bulging muscles, but it was apparent he wasn’t one to fight. “Things haven’t got much better in the last few months. It is the main chatter of the town.” The man stubbed his thumb into his chest, raising an eyebrow, “Dunno why they elected me to do this, though.”
“I see. What exactly is the issue, though? I, as the King’s second in command know of his dealings, but I assure you—”
The cloaked man was interrupted when a fist slammed on the desk, rumbling the items set before him, “Forgive my rudeness, but it’s the damned taxes. They’ve gotten worse since my family moved here two years ago. We all had a meetin’ the other day going over this.”
It was a tough situation. The taxes weren’t the best plan that the King had made for these people. Hell, he had done worse before. His eyes narrowed to a gentle close, “You are forgiven,” he put the quill down gently and propped his arms up by his elbows, folding his hands together. “The King certainly has the best interest for those in the kingdom. I sympathize highly with everyone dealing with this...” he broke off, trying to gather his thoughts, finally coming to terms with the best way to put it, “…issue. Of course, I will admit this isn’t the first time I have even questioned the King’s actions, but I dare not repeat myself from before.”
His visitor drew back, rubbing the underside of his fist where it made the impact. He made a slight grumble, though more in an agreement type of tone. “In any case, that was all that I really wanted to bring up. It’s hard on my family and the others—”
There was an interruption in the voice as the cloaked one unfolded his hands from their entanglement and gave a brief wave. A gentle pulse ran through the air and his eyes shone a tad brighter, revealing the rather unnatural color of orange irises. “Don’t worry so much. Everything will be fine, as I’ll make mention of it to the King when I have the opportune moment. He is unavailable currently.” Once he finished speaking, his irises returned to a normal blue hue. The man before him, as he could tell, was unnaturally calm now. He looked over his shoulder towards one of the windows which now had filtered through the moonlight. The stars were hard to make out in the mystifying distortion. He quickly turned back to the man across from him and snapped his fingers, igniting the candlestick on the desk, “I believe it’s time that you leave. It’s getting rather late. May I take your name for the formal request to the King?”
The entranced visitor blinked twice, almost confused. The candlelight flickered off his cheeks for a silent few moments before coming to the question. “Kert” he said pointedly, reaching out his hand.
He extended his own, firmly grasping Kert’s, “Arwel.” He watched as Kert stood up and thanked Arwel for his time and walked out of the room. Arwel sat in silence for the next few minutes, contemplating what to do. He tossed that worry aside when he realized that his research was dire, that he had to get back to the restricted section of the castle library. Arwel stood up briefly, grunting as he did. Magic took a decent deal of his energy, or at least on humans, but hopefully he’d not have to use too much more of it. He grasped the candlestick holder on the desk with his index and middle finger and disappeared down the dark archway.
The route to the castle library was a long one; The torches lining the walls illuminated the way forward: down two staircases, and across several long hallways until finally he reached the door. It was heavy with an iron bar across the bottom half of it, mostly for decoration and a golden ring for a handle, though it felt fragile. Every time Arwel grabbed onto it, the damn thing had the impression of being ripped off the door. The door slowly opened and echoed loud creaks in the empty corridor. He was grateful that most of the guards were elsewhere, although they would pay him no mind even if they had seen him down here in the restricted section. He was, after all, second in command, wasn't he? Arwel made his way inside and let the door behind him close. The room was massive. Bookcases stood upright and were filled tightly to the height of at least twenty feet. They were all spaced apart evenly, and several tables were placed around the wood floor. The restricted section was merely to his right. It was gated and the metallic entry door had an embedded lock, preventing entry; though it wasn’t all that hard for him to get into, he didn’t need the key for this. Arwel simply stuck his forefinger into the keyhole and a surge of electricity ran through his finger, exhaling a plume of blue particles into the innards of the lock. The door before him made a loud metallic sound akin to groaning and he stepped through the now open door.
He made his way through the towering shelves until he found one with a table perched right in front of it. With a wave of his hand, the outline of several objects shimmered and deformed until they popped back into view. Arwel grimaced at the fact that he was able to pull this off. Months ago, he was powerless and had to ask for the key to get in here without arousing suspicion. Though that wasn’t the biggest threat. He had to hide the books he was reading, though he felt certain that nobody checked when he was done for the night. The guard here didn’t care all that much, he thought.
The night when he found a book about magic and what it could do—the possibilities! He had snuck the book out of the restricted section, read it in his off time at the castle in secrecy and after weeks of practicing—he managed to pull off the most basic of spells. He continued to practice, pulling off amazing feats left and right. His stamina improved as well. The thought of being able to do what was right drove him, as now the power to overthrow the King was there… or was it?
Another night when he was perusing the shelves, there was a title that caught his eye in the references section of a book. He’d searched for it throughout the archives for hours until finally he had it in his hands. It mentioned dragons, their history, and their untapped potential. Now he’d been studying that book in the restricted section, writing down notes on parchment.
Arwel opened the tome before him and put the candlestick beside him on the table. This current chapter he was reading showed a map of sorts. The dried wax-like paper to his right contained the layout of the immediate region in the Kingdom. Arwel read the odd descriptions and his obsession grew as he matched locations and read further into the chapter’s lore. His eyes were wide with fascination. The candle beside him slowly melted away as time passed by. He scribbled down notes with the quill that rested on the desk, first having it drink the ink from the well placed before him.
He yawned briefly: having read three chapters was taking a toll on him, yet he remained resilient. Arwel looked at the candle on his table. Its wax body had melted a significant amount, at least half of what already remained, since he sat down. Finally, he turned the page, and it began to point out gravesites of dragons. It even marked the location of one that lay within the kingdom. He smiled and chuckled to himself, amused by his finding.
Suddenly the entry door let out a long, eerie noise. Arwel began to panic, his heart pounding: who could possibly be here? At this hour? He quickly marked down the location of the grave which was in a forest nearby. These draconic legends are amazing. If I could control a single dragon, I could only imagine how much better I could take care of these citizens than that oaf of a king we have. Arwel closed the book and scoffed, that should do it for now. Arwel squinted towards the window, the full moon being nearly obfuscated by the incoming clouds. He stood up slowly, grabbed the map he marked with the gravesite, folding it into his cloak pocket, and snuffed out the candle before casting the concealing spell back onto the objects on the table. It all phased out of existence, invisible to both sight and touch once more. He finally had all the pieces to the puzzle and would do what was right for the people at last.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Once he had made his way out of the restricted section, he locked the door back up. The footsteps from before grew in audibility. He had to do something before he was noticed. Arwel casually walked to one of the bookshelves that was several feet away. Out of reach and just out of sight of the restricted area of the library. He made a slight grabbing gesture towards one of the books that were high up from him, the air waving gently towards it. The dusty tome was touched by it and slid from position, gently coming down towards him. Arwel caught it and opened a random page. The sound of boots came closer within earshot, and he began to scan the page in front of him.
A slightly taller person dressed in steel armor and a mighty sword sheathed in the suit’s belt fixed their attention on Arwel. Confused, they spoke up, “Sir?” they creaked, almost intimidated.
“Hm… Ah yes, sorry,” Arwel lifted his posture from the book, giving a cheerful look. “What brings you here, Captain Reina?”
Captain Reina took note that he had a look of genuine curiosity, though it did give off some weird aura. Yet she couldn’t tell what it was. She shuffled in place, relaxing her tense muscles, “Just doing rounds. Kind of pissed off, given the library shan’t need any kind of guarding.” She gave a slight chuckle, “What am I going to find anyways? A mouse?”
Arwel laughed with her, it was amusing to say the least. His laughing came to a near abrupt stop when Captain Reina pointed out the restricted section behind him and to the left. She wasn’t asking anything specific, but to kind of ease his own anxiety he asked, “What’s so restricted about it anyways? Seems like a boring section of the library.”
“Hah. I wish it were true,” she retorted. “But it’s not that simple. All I’ve been told is that it’s nothing bad, just old knowledge that should stay hidden, though for reference purposes if needed. You need special permission to go in though.” Captain Reina then shrugged, “Sorry for disrupting your… study session here. I’ll leave you be.”
Arwel gleefully waved her off and once she was out of sight, exhaled. That almost seemed too close. I must move quickly. He tossed the book back up and a current of magic placed it back into its empty spot. He waited for two minutes to ensure that Captain Reina wasn’t going to come back, or if she did, that it wasn’t too suspicious. He made his way to the entry door and once out, it slammed rather loudly when he was almost out of the hall.
***
The cool night air was like a blessing to Arwel as he walked swiftly through the town. These tall buildings, at least to him, were such a terrible plan, he thought. The King had decided at least five years ago they would slowly rebuild each house to fit a standard of living. They looked horrible, inconvenient even. Then two years ago he decided to drive taxes up so that the “kingdom could flourish once more after the reconstruction project” as he claimed. Foolish. The King is just greedy and completely childish. Arwel growled to himself, but then reached into his cloak, pulling out the map he marked. The distance between the town and this forest was going to take him a while to cover, at least three hours. The sun was going to be up at five in the morning. He pondered for a brief minute, concluding that he should cast a spell to slow the passage of time.
Arwel held his hands together as if condensing the air into a tight ball. The air wobbled around him and was being drawn into his hands. A few moments later, he released it. Everything around him moved exceptionally sluggishly and the air rippled in a mystifying way.
The moon above him when he left read about one in the morning. Arwel hurried his pace across the cobblestone-lain street. While time had slowed and he could make it easily, he was easily driven by his obsession to get to his destination.
An hour and a half passed, and he finally made it to the far outskirts away from the town. The walls of the capital stood mighty, yet distant in a much-shrunken state. Arwel felt a bit more drained as he dropped the time spell he placed. There was one worry on his mind, though. Before him lay a small home, one that he wouldn’t even have recognized as existing if he had not ventured out. The lantern lights weren’t lit on the inside, so he was able to assure himself that they wouldn’t notice him. He took a few minutes to catch his stamina. He’d need it relatively soon.
Once Arwel recovered, he made his way into the looming forest on his left. Its entryway was so inviting, yet eerie. The branches were gnarled and formed an arch. Wasn’t natural, he thought, though did these people who lived nearby do this, or…? He shook the thought from his mind. The trees above Arwel shadowed him completely from the outside world, almost eating him alive from all visibility. He walked a few paces further before his right foot was caught snug on something. Arwel half-panicked and struggled to free himself, God damned thing! He cursed multiple times until finally drawing back the foot. He squinted in the darkness, still unable to see properly. Arwel pointed his index finger upward and twirled it in a circle rapidly, the air deforming and bright rings protruded from the center point. A small, yet vivid sphere popped into existence, and it illuminated the surrounding area. Behind him was still nothing but darkness, as was the path ahead. He looked down and saw a small tree root, cursing at it silently while stepping over it.
The walk felt like it was taking forever and Arwel could feel his legs start to ache with each step forth. Almost as though the forest had known of his intentions and his presence, it came open to a wide clearing. He checked his surroundings, as everything happening seemed way too surreal. Arwel lifted his cloak and pulled out the map he had scribbled on, unfolding it before him. Yes. This is the place. A raindrop plopped onto the parchment, followed by several more. Arwel shot his eyes skyward: clouds had begun to drift in and condense together and he held out his hand. There was no doubt about it either since he felt more droplets smack his hand with a soft plop. He chuckled to himself, perhaps God knows what I’m here for--. Thunder roared overhead like a mighty lion; lightning snaked across the sky shortly after. The wind picked up, blowing the map from his other hand and up into the sky. His cloak fluttered about.
Arwel drew his attention back to the clearing in front of him. There in front of him lay a small headstone, though not like the ones created for the deceased in the town. It was made of marble stone, and almost formed a chair-like shape, but not for sitting on. The taller portion of it had a crude sketch carved into it along with a few gems protruding the corners. He moved forward to get a better gander at it. A creature—it looked like it swirled about attempting to bite its own tail. The horns on its head made it a bit more apparent with the wings on its back. The bottom right section had what he believed to be some ancient writing, a name perhaps? The lower half was a very acutely angled triangle. More runic writing that he couldn’t decipher. Arwel began to tear up at the sight of his accomplishment. Thunder rumbled once more and lightning scurried, dancing across the night sky. The rain began to pour, as it was time for him to make his move.
The man placed his right hand over the tombstone as the weather turned ever more violent, and his adrenaline was pumping. He pulled out a tiny knife from his belt which had been concealed. Only a few have had opportunities like this one. Even fewer have lived through the process. Arwel laughed maniacally. He was finally going to be able to do what he believed was right for the kingdom. Overthrow that good-for-nothing King and return order. Make everyone’s life better. Arwel grasped onto the handle of his knife and quickly slashed between his index and thumb. It was a rather gaping wound, his blood pooling up immediately. The knife dropped to the ground as he winced in pain, hoping to ignore it enough to make it. The blood droplets smacked the marble grave and Arwel watched as the rain came to a downpour, drenching him. His vision began to blur as euphoria drowned his senses. The runes scratched into the tomb beside him began to glow, “Hear me, mighty Creature that lived long ago in ancient times: I have gathered the requirements of thy rebirth for the Common Era to fulfill my needs. I summon you!” he shouted over the thunder. Several lightning bolts smacked the earth, kicking up massive amounts of dirt. The gems on the grave began to shimmer brightly and Arwel could feel the presence of another being in slumber. Using the last remaining bit of his strength, he laughed louder than ever. He stumbled backwards in amazement; the ritual was complete. One last bolt of lightning came striking down in fury, directly on the grave; it shattered into a dozen pieces and Arwel’s laughter slowed down. The same menacing presence from before presented itself, pushing against his mind as if linking the two of them together in thought. The last thing that Arwel heard was the roar of a mighty dragon.