Grud hurriedly shut the door to his shed, trying to trap whatever heat possible inside. It was mostly a symbolic gesture with the holes and gaps in the walls, but he could pretend it worked.

The young orc had spent most of the last few days scrounging whatever leftover scraps of wood he could find in a mad attempt to patch his abode's exterior. Fresh cuts crossed his ginger fingers as his hands trembled from the cold. Thankfully, his friend made the cuts bleed less than they would have otherwise, letting Grud keep his energy reserves. And he needed every bit of help in that regard that he could find.

He leaned his head against the door for a moment, grasping onto the second of rest like a man on cracked ice. Grud let out a sigh from between his tusks, watched it fog, then turned to face the results of his harebrained plot. Grud hadn’t quite considered the implications of raising a dragon in a village that would kill a dragon on sight.

The young Ork hadn’t been able to turn to anyone else in the clan, knowing what they would do upon learning of his companions' existence.

Dura’Mon lay on the floor where Grud had managed to lay him out. Getting the dragon down the mountain had surely aggravated its injuries further. Just getting Dura’Mon through the door had taken all of Grud’s strength and determination. Even now the dragonling took up almost the entire shack.

And of course, Dura’Mon was still dying.

“What am I going to do with him?” Grud asked the cold, not expecting an answer.

His companion’s shallow breaths had grown more infrequent as the days had gone on, and it was getting to the point that Grud had given up on Dura’Mon healing naturally. So that meant Grud had to intervene. Somehow.

He had been trying to force feed his new companion to some success, getting Dura’Mon to ingest more than he would spit out. Beyond that, Grud had no idea how to help a dragon heal safely.

There was one thing that may help in this situation, but up until this point it had been too large of a risk for Grud to pursue. As he looked over at the small wisps of fog from the dragon’s nostrils, Grud decided it may be time to abandon caution.

The Tribe of Urulyald Mountain had a ritual that they used since long ago, to commemorate their warriors coming of age. The orcs would use it to connect their next generation with their companions on a spiritual level, forging a link between rider and drake that was severable only by death. Even then, most didn’t survive the backlash from their partner dying, only 1 in 5 being able to handle the intrinsic damage.

Still, it was a powerful force, reviving the ancient frozen drake eggs to vitality with its unique magic. Grud had meant to only attempt the bond when he had made a stronger connection with his companion as Dura’Mon was no unhatched drake egg. At this point though, Grud couldn’t think of any other options.

He clenched his jaw, and decided on his path forwards. Grud gave an almost silent plea to the Mountain Mother under his fogged breath, wishing health for her son. Then he began the process of carefully moving Dura’Mon onto his haphazardly crafted sled.

Although Grud had not wanted to resort to this option, he had always had an inkling that it would become necessary eventually. To that end, he had constructed the sled with pieces of wood that were too large to cover the gaps on Grud’s shed.

It might fall apart, but maybe, just maybe Grud could reach his destination with relative ease. It was best to hope, at least.

That was what Grud was thinking as he hoisted the almost-horse sized young dragon onto his shoulder. He may not be the biggest Ork at six strides tall, but he still made sure to eat his goat stew from the communal pot. Lifting the dragon for such a short distance wasn’t the issue.

Managing to fit Dura’Mon’s wings through the doorway on the other hand, proved to be a much larger challenge. Still, it wasn’t long before Grud laid his companion down on the makeshift sled, and secured his limbs down with leather cords.

Casting a brief glance at the Urulyald, Grud said a prayer to the Mountainmother under his breath.

* * * * *

Pulling the sled across the snow banks was difficult, but much, much easier than carrying Dura’Mon down the mountains. Still, Grud was grunting and huffing as he moved the unconscious dragon forward by the long rope he had attached for a grip.

His steps were made plodding by both the deep snow and the footwear Grud used to overcome it, large paddles strapped to the underside of his boots. They provided enough surface area for Grud to push off the powdery snow, but they were not fashionable nor fast.

Still, he had come this far along his journey, and there was no going back. Just committing to the task at hand.

So Grud kept walking forwards, content to plod along as the distance between him and his destination faded into the past.

At least, until he heard muffled voices over the snowbank.

“I’m going in now. Don’t mess around.” Jarl said, the tone of his voice still apparent even though it was muted.

Grud froze, the familiar voice making him panic slightly. This was the worst possible timing for Jarl and his goons to be here, but it made sense. They too had gone up the Urulyald to claim drake eggs, and unlike Grud, that’s what they had actually brought back. Of course they would be headed to the World Well to undergo the ritual as well.

But why now of all times?

Grud threw himself into the snow and wove the Cold Cloak as the voices started picking up again.

“How long do you think Jarl is going to be in there for?”

“Well, how long did your ritual take? Probably about the same, you idiot.”

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Hey! I mean, it’s Jarl you know. He does everything better. Maybe something special will happen to him.”

“Stonehead.”

Then there was a soft thump, and a series of muttered curses before anyone spoke next. Grud was just about to steal a glance when Jarl’s lackey’s, Uyul and Rurd started bickering again.

“Stop hitting me Rurd, my head’s getting all lumpy from being hit all the time.” Uyul whined out.

“Your head was all stupid looking from the start, that wasn’t anything I did to it.”

“Aye that’s not true. My momma says I’m a handsome little piggy!”

“Of course she does, you simpleton…”

The two continued to bicker in such a manner for a few minutes before the tension started to ebb out of Grud’s system. He would just wait over here until they left, and then Grud could enter himself. They wouldn’t even see him. Then, the conversation changed.

“Oh, Jarl! How did it go?”

“Hmph. Do you really need to ask? My companion is gaining awareness, and will hatch within the next few days, of course.”

“Hahaha! Of course! Our next Despato Jarl the Great will soon have his drake!”

“Oi, keep it down. I’m not the next anything yet. Don’t get ahead of yourself. Let’s go.”

Slowly, the voices started to move. Towards the snowbank Grud was hiding behind. Grud cast a desperate glance at Dura’Mon and the sled. As it stood now, the dragon would be seen, and Jarl would most definitely kill him on sight.

“You all heard that Ered found a drake egg too? I knew she was special, but wow.” Uyul said as they grew ever closer to him.

“Well that’s one thing I don’t mind getting ahead of, Ered is my woman. No arguments.”

A chorus of complaints from the lackeys rang out from close by at that, both of them trying to insinuate that the woman in question had feelings for them. Grud desperately thought of a way to hide the sled.

Then, they were right in front of him, only a dozen feet away. Grud wasn’t in their line of sight, but he was out in the open. If any of the three of the other orcs looked this way, Grud would most definitely be seen. Taking a leap of faith, Grud pushed on the Cold Cloak, trying to have it encompass his companion.

If only Grud would go unnoticed one more time, then he would always be grateful.

“You know, speaking of the drakes, I was surprised when Grud came down without an egg.” Jarl said, having already moved past where Grud was hidden.

“What, that runt? Why would you be surprised about someone like him failing?” Rurd asked.

Jarl took a second to speak, while Grud listened on, completely stunned.

“I just thought he would be the type to stay up there until he died or succeeded. I was somewhat disappointed, actually. Anyways…”

As the three young orcs walked away, Grud still sat there frozen, not even letting out a sigh of relief. Just three sentences had completely changed how Grud assumed Jarl thought of him. The larger boy had noticed Grud.

Shaking his head, Grud decided to sort that information out later. For now, Dura’Mon was waiting in the cold, under nothing but a thin sheet. It was time to heal his dragon.

* * * * *

Ainne sat with her back slightly in front of her chair, but still perfectly straight with her hands not on the rests next to her, but instead they were tucked together on her lap. Today was an important day, so mother would not forgive any laxness in posture.

Perfection was mandatory. At least, it was here in the Royal Elwin Palace, where every time Ainne moved, her mother would hear about it. It no longer bothered Ainne to any appreciable extent, but still, a part of her longed for more freedom than she was currently afforded.

And after today, she may get a taste of that freedom.

But that would be after hours of sitting with absolute grace and maturity, so it wouldn’t do to focus on that too early. No, Ainne would have time to be giddy with excitement later.

“Chin straight, Ainne. Move your eyes, not your whole head.” Her mother, the Empress of the Luminous Empire, said with a tut.

Ainne shook her head very slightly, then reset her chin in the exact same position. She had long ago learned how to look around with dignity befitting royalty. Her mother just liked to be in control. So Ainne let her have superficial control, and made her decisions strategically.

Thankfully, then her father walked in, and Ainne resisted putting any emphasis on her exhale. Maintaining her facial coordination, Ainne inquired as to her father’s wellbeing as she hadn’t seen him since her Awakening.

“Welcome, father. I hope today finds you in good health?”

He gave a warm smile, before turning to her mother and nodding slightly.

“Empress Mother, my greetings. And yes, Ainne, I am doing quite well today. I have been looking forward to it for quite some time. It isn’t everyday that your child becomes the youngest attendant ever of the Luminous Academy after all.”

At this, a miniscule smile crept onto her lips. Even her mother was happy with her accomplishments, and Ainne was proud of her status. She was the Champion of Luminos, and that afforded her certain benefits, beyond just being the princess. Normally, she would not be joining the Academy for another 2 years, but like her Ascension ceremony it had been accelerated.

And so, a grand celebration had been decided upon, all in her name. Tonight the entire court would gather for her send off, then she would be set free upon the Academy, to learn and build strong connections with her peers. After all, she would be Empress one day, and no one ruled alone.

But for now, it was time for what her mother referred to as a ‘family tradition’, but was really just an opportunity to make sure that their behaviors for the night aligned. The family would congregate exactly an hour before leaving the event, and spend the time in heartfelt conversation.

“Alright, now that we’ve gathered, let us discuss our plans for the evening. Today is indeed a special day and that means it must be perfect. A strong appearance is the first step to a strong presence.”

The last line was like a routine that the Empress said at the beginning of every family discussion, like clockwork. It set the tone though, and both Ainne and her father let the smile fall from their face.

“Of course, dear. Both you and Ainne look stunning as always, and I rather like what the stylist has done for me this time. I actually feel somewhat respectable in this ridiculous amount of fabric.”

A small laugh came from her left, and Ainne barely held herself back from snapping towards her mother. When was the last time she had laughed?

It was times like this when Ainne realized why her parents had married. People often said it was a marriage to further the royal families control of Nelworth, but they weren’t privy to moments like this, behind closed doors. It wasn’t often, but there were times when they were just a family, not the Royal Family of Elwin.

“So, father, where have you been since my awakening?” Ainne said with cheer in her voice.

Her seemingly innocuous question shattered the happy moment.

Suddenly, the temperature of the room seemed to drop drastically, and her father didn’t speak for a long moment. Eventually, he glanced at her mother, and when she gave a small nod he began to talk.

“I’ve… had some things to take care of recently. About… your half brother.”

“...What?”

“Anyways dear, how did you like the scones I had sent to you earlier they were..” Her mother tried to steer the conversation away, but Ainne’s head was stuck on her father’s words.

I have a brother?

“Ainne dear?” The Empress said, almost accusingly.

“Yes, well the bakery on Crown and Heart is consistently amazing, and their scones most definitely lived up to my expectations.” Ainne replied almost automatically.

She had years of practice, and at this point could make small talk of this level without much conscious thought. Which was good, because her head was currently running on repeat.

I have a brother? Ainne thought again.

Her mother continued to talk about various things, with either Ainne or her father interjecting occasionally, but nothing found purchase in her mind. Several times she cast glances at her father, but either he didn’t see them, or he was ignoring his daughter.

Then, finally the hour was almost over, and her mother went to make some last second preparations. Immediately as the door closed behind the Empress, Ainne’s father wheeled on her, his face cold.

“I can’t tell you everything now, but trust me and your mother okay? Let’s talk after the ball tonight, I’ll be able to say a bit more by then.”

Ainne looked at her father, before nodding slowly.

“I trust you, but… what is he like?”