"Dragon?"

She asked unsure. It was far smaller than how she had imagined dragons to be. Almost made her a bit disappointed but the feeling was quickly replaced by exhilaration as she knew what its presence meant. The dragon riders must have found out about their message.

“Come stand here, unless you want it to fly right into you.”

Warchief’s voice pulled her out of her reverie and she swiftly stepped back to stand with him, leaving ample space for the messenger.

As the swooshing drew nearer, she could now see it. The size of a small pony, its body was similar to a lizard with black scales, helping it camouflage into the darkness. Its leathery wings spread wide, catching the air and slowing its pace until it reached the window. The dragon then swiftly retracted them close to his body and entered the window, causing the flickering candle lights to almost go out as it gracefully touched down on the stone desk.

Its striking yellow eyes shifted between the both of them. Even without words, she could see its intelligence. Although she had read about them, it had been hard to imagine an animal to be just as self-aware as a human, but one look had dispelled all her doubts.

“Tämä draoidh isel fàilte ort, Arglwyddan herra.”

Warchief took her by surprise as he greeted the dragon in a sing-songy language that she had never heard before. Not knowing what the proper way of greeting a dragon would be and not ready to embarrass herself by trying to mimic his words, Lidea instead fell into the most elegant courtesy she could muster.

“I greet thee, great dragon.”

If only Mom knew I would use her etiquette classes for a dragon.

She could feel its intense gaze linger on her and started to feel nervous. Holding her breath, she second-guessed if she had made a mistake until it finally nodded at the both of them.

Breathing out in relief, she looked on as it raised its claw to its neck. Shifting her attention a leather harness was attached around its neck and between around its front legs. It reminded her of the peytral she had seen war horses wear during tournaments. Only this one was made of leather, rather than cloth or metal, except for the silver tube that hung in front of its breast.

The dragon cut through the thick leather with ease and both the harness and tube fell onto the ground with an unceremonious clank. Almost immediately Warchief picked it up and she expected the dragon to fly off now that it had completed its task. Instead, it kept waiting, its eyes narrowed in discontent.

“Thank you, great dragon.”

She uttered, still not unsure if the dragon could even understand her or if this would be the proper way to thank it. Its eyes shifted back to her for a moment and seemed to soften, before turning back to Warchief who was impatiently fiddling around with the metal tube.

Weren’t they supposed to reward the dragon first? Normally a messenger would be offered a place to rest, eat, and drink. Was it the same for dragons?

“Vittu, miksi hwn fydd agor tämä gwaedlyd fuilteach!?”

Warchief grumbled as he tried twisting the tube in all matter of ways, but it didn’t want to open.

Looking at the scroll tube, she was in awe by the amount of detailed engravings of flowers and vines. It had been far too nicely crafted to be used for carrying letters around, in her opinion. Though she was learning that the world of magic, liked to make even the most pointless of items look nice.

As Warchief continued to struggle, she wrecked her brain. Obviously, it had been enforced, to ensure only the intended reader would receive the message. Though her family had preferred to write in code, she had heard of different types of scroll tubes that made you enter a password or had to be activated by magic. Still, she couldn’t see any hint in its decoration of how they were supposed to open it.

A huffing sound drew her eyes back to the dragon. She could swear that amusement glinted in his eyes and as their eyes met, it started to open its mouth. The several rows of pointy teeth, made her shiver until she was distracted by the orange glow starting in its throat.

“Warchief!”

Instinctively she pulled him out of the way. He was heavier than she expected and as he lost his balance the both of them toppled onto the ground. The tube dropped onto the floor where it was instantly bathed in a stream of fire.

“No!”

Warchief yelled as he sprung back to his feet and ran to grab the scroll. Seeing the fire not bend around him as it usually did, caused an icy shiver to rush through her and she grabbed him. Holding on for dear life, as he seemed determined to pull her with him.

“Your magic Warchief!”

Her words made him pause as if only now realizing the danger he had been in.

Relief flooded her as she breathed deeply.

“Besides, why would it bring the message just to destroy it after.”

She could hear the dragon huff again. Having stopped breathing fire, it looked on in amusement as the flames dissipated onto the stone, leaving behind an unmarred scroll.

“That is one way to open a letter. Why didn’t he just do that immediately?”

Warchief glanced accusatory at the dragon, which just stared back seemingly unimpressed.

“Perhaps because you grabbed the scroll before he could?”

He glanced at her before starting to laugh as he picked up the message. Making Lidea raise an eyebrow, as she didn’t see what was funny at the moment.

Noticing her face, his laughter diminished to chuckles before he responded.

“You know, Lidea, Crystal always accuses me of not having a brain. With you around, I guess I've finally found one. It just happens to be outside my body."

He unrolled the message in time to avoid Lidea’s resulting glare. The nerve of the man.

“Having me around doesn’t give you the excuse to not think before you act!”

He pretended to ignore her as he unrolled the scroll but she could see the corners of his mouth twitch as he suppressed a smile. However, it soon disappeared as his eyes flitted over the text.

Curious about what had caused his change in humor, she tried to sneak a peek, only to be met with overly ornate writing in a different language which reminded her of the elvish letter he had shown her before.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Tämä yw hwn Tywysogsa Cumhachd.”

Warchief lowered the letter to look back to the dragon who huffed again, which made her think it was the dragon’s way of laughing. She was dying to know what was happening but didn’t want to interfere with their conversation. Whatever the dragon had meant, his reaction made Warchief’s eyes glow once more as he balled his hands into a fist.

“Miksei nach deach wrtho? Mae teyrnassa Cumhachd häntä e.”

He sounded irritated and Lidea doubted it was the best way to react to their messenger. No matter what the letter said.

“Warchief? What’s the matter?”

Both sets of eyes turned toward her. The dragon looked rather amused, while Warchief’s annoyance gave away to a touch of guilt.

“The riders didn’t take kindly to us using the Hûldral seal.”

She furrowed her brow.

“Sure, we may have misused the seal, but can't they grasp our reasons? We weren't impersonating anyone. It's common knowledge that the family has been extinct for ages."

The silence that followed her words, made her stare at Warchief. Not grasping why he looked so guilty and causing her to prod for more information.

“Why are you not saying anything?”

After a moment of silence, he sighed deeply before responding.

“The family wasn’t eradicated. There is a prince who is still alive.”

“What do you mean that there is one still alive? I thought everyone from Hûldral died in the catastrophe?”

“Almost everyone did. As far as I know, only the prince survived as he was studying at the dragon order of Terriath at the time. When the dragon riders started leaving, he went with them.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to contain her anger. He must have known about this since before they had decided to replicate the seal.

“Let me get this straight. Did you want to impersonate this prince to convince highlords around Asmeon to fight with us? And you thought that would work?”

In his agitation he started pacing, waving the letter around as he spoke.

“No one is going to stand with us, regardless of how many letters we send. You don’t know how much weight his presence holds. Having him at our side is the only way for us to receive aid.”

Lidea's jaw tightened the more he spoke, and she chose her words carefully.

“But he isn’t our ally, Warchief. Worse, you destroyed any goodwill we might have had with him or anyone else who received our message. What were you thinking? That no one would notice that it wasn’t him who wrote those letters?”

“Prince Cullyun wouldn’t have cared about such nonsense. We just needed to get his attention.”

He answered defiantly, still seemingly convinced that he had done nothing wrong.

In annoyance, she pointedly glared at the letter in his hand.

“It seems like he did care after all.”

Coming to a halt he growled as he waved the letter at her this time.

“He isn’t the one who replied! It was the rider council.”

“So you think that the council didn’t consult with this mighty prince that is so highly esteemed?”

Warchief went quiet, not able to refute her reasoning. She was annoyed that he hadn’t thought it through thoroughly, but she was even more disappointed that he hadn’t discussed this with her. Hadn’t she already stated that they couldn’t work together if they were keeping secrets? How could she be sure that he hadn’t withheld any other information from her?

“Why did you lie Warchief? We could have considered what to do, but instead, you deceived me and made me complicit in forging these documents without my knowledge.”

It was one thing to forge an anonymous letter or one that was clearly not from the person mentioned. But this was different. By using the prince’s seal, they had inevitably tried to force him into supporting them and others to follow his example. Such a lie didn’t sit right with her.

“Because you would have refused, and I needed you to make them. You care too much about those precious morals of yours. There is no way to fight a war while keeping a squeaky clean conscience.”

His eyes were glowing and his words felt as if they were loaded with venom. His disdain for her shocked Lidea to the core. She wanted to scream that morals were important, why else had he brought her here? However, the words didn’t come. Too aware of the people who died due to her decisions.

Was it worth it?

That haunting voice echoed through her brain, and she felt her heart accelerate.

A low growl rumbled through the office, the smell of rotten eggs bringing her back to the present and causing the both of them to look at the dragon. It had jumped off its perch and came to stand between them, where it faced Warchief as if it was about to fend him off for her. Instantly, Warchief’s anger was replaced by confusion, before he glanced back at her. She wasn’t sure of what he saw in her face, but it caused his expression to soften to something resembling remorse.

“Forgive me, I shouldn’t have said that.”

She sensed his sincerity, and while it didn't entirely erase the pain caused by his careless words, she understood that he hadn't intended to hurt her. Instead, she focused on what was more important as she stared him down.

“What you should have done, was talk to me from the beginning. I told you already that I can’t help if you are keeping secrets.”

The growling had stopped, though the dragon hadn’t moved. Her words hung heavily in the air, and she started doubting if he would respond at all until he smiled softly.

“I suppose you are right.”

She kept staring at him before she sighed deeply.

“Good. With that out of the way, we have to decide what we do next. We can safely assume that all our letters have become pointless, and no one will come to our aid. So either we prepare ourselves to fight on our own, or we find a way to get back in their good graces and convince them.”

Thinking of all the lives lost that day alone, she couldn’t even consider how many more would die if they would continue to fight on their own.

“He hasn’t sent the letter. If only he did, I am sure that he would help us.”

To her, it sounded ludicrous that he hadn’t been involved in sending the message, but the confidence in his voice made her pause and consider that option.

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because I have met him before. This will be hard to believe but I used to live at the Neoire court. He stayed with the royal family for a month, and I got to know him. Even at that time, the councilmen would keep information from him.”

His account only created more questions in her mind. How did he go from living in Deloshra, losing his family, to living at the court of the Elves and fraternizing with a Hûldralian prince who is supposed to be dead?

“I know it is hard to believe. For the sake of brevity, I was adopted by elves after I lost my family.”

He looked expectantly at her, as if this explanation should be enough to cover all her questions but it only caused there to be more. How did an elf end up finding him? She knew he wasn’t comfortable with all of his past but decided she was going to get to the bottom of this soon.

“Okay… So you are saying that you know him well enough to predict how he would have reacted now. Let’s say I believe you. Can we send a letter directly to him? Considering we have a messenger to them right here.”

She looked over at the dragon that decided he had enough of their conversation and jumped back onto the desk to lie down with its tail curled around itself. His eyes still darting between them as it followed their conversation.

“I don’t think that will work. Any letter from him will directly go to the council. I honestly don’t know how we could reach him.”

She could see that but looking at the dragon she wondered if that would be necessarily the case.

“Maybe I could convince it not to do that?”

He looked unconvinced and she couldn’t blame him. She had no idea if she could after all.

“How?”

“By asking it nicely? It can always say no.”

If he was unconvinced before, he now turned to full-on disbelief.

“Is that supposed to be a joke? A dragon is not going to consider whatever a random human tells it.”

“What if that human is of a line of dragon riders?”

Despite opening his mouth to reply, he paused before uttering a sound and frowned as he came to a revelation.

“I forgot that you had a family house here. No wonder it has been responding to you this much. I still don’t think it will help though.”

“Unless you have a better plan, I can at least try.”

Without waiting for an answer, she walked up to the dragon.

“I assume you heard anything. Could you help us bring a letter directly to Prince Cullyun?”

She wasn't certain if she needed to use the same language that Warchief had, but the dragon appeared attentive to her. As she awaited some form of confirmation, a throbbing ache began to gnaw at her temples, and her vision blurred.

“Lidea!”

She didn’t notice when she fell to the ground. Dark images flashed through her mind and made her feel uneasy and scared. The feeling disappeared and she could see tunnels, the sky, and finally sand-colored towers that reached above the clouds. Suddenly she found herself in a meeting room, around a table sat a dozen men and women that loudly discussed things without looking at her. A woman’s voice spoke without emotion.

“I made a new batch of anti-venom..”

The scene was replaced by that of a couple of shadowy figures. An extraordinarily tall man and a woman whose shadow seemed to be made of light.

The haze finally dissipated, and her mind cleared except for the bursting headache. The sound of wings reached her, and she caught a glimpse of the dragon departing through the window.

“Lidea?”

Concern colored Warchief’s voice as he loomed over her. She was lying on the floor and realized that she must have fainted.

"I suppose that was the dragon's way of saying 'no.'"

"I gathered as much. Would you like me to take you to Crystal?"

The vision the dragon had shown her, still lingered through her head, but she couldn’t make any sense of it.

"No, I think I just need sleep."