Beings of the order Dragona, also known under the common name dragon, might be the most extensively studied magical race of all. Sources dating back over four hundred years describe there to be a symbiotic relationship between dragons and humans. The origin of this connection between the two species has only been recollected from dragon memory as no relics of these times still remain.
According to the dragons, it all started within the lands currently known as Terriath. The agreeable climate caused dragons and humans to live in close proximity and gave rise to a booming leather trade. But hunting dragons was dangerous, so some humans resorted to stealing dragon eggs in an effort to rear them as one did other livestock.
Only they found dragons to not only be sentient but to have a superior mind to other animals including humans. This led to the eventual ban of the trade of any dragon parts and the creation of the dragon orders in which dragon-riding knights would hunt down those who broke this law.
~ The History and People of Magic by Sir Rainaldus Gale
----------------------------------------
Lidea separated from Warchief at the bathing house, as she didn’t trust herself to come back and wash up later in the day. Probably a wise decision, as even now the warm water helped loosen her muscles and soothe her aches, to the point that she nearly fell asleep. Not thrilled at the idea of drowning, she reluctantly left the bath. Looking longingly back at it, before dressing herself in the same dirty clothes as before. The smell of them made her scrunch her nose, but she knew that it would quickly fade as she got used to it. Trying to distract herself from the stench and her legs that protested at every step, she thought of the family house she would soon get to explore.
Would her mysterious ancestor have left any belongings behind? Lidea hoped so. Her curiosity burned for this part of her lineage that she knew nothing about. If the order had left around a hundred years ago, then her mother’s family had to have known about their connection to it. At least her grandfather should have been aware. She wished that he had still been alive to ask. Although, if he had, there was a high chance that he would have no longer spoken to her. He had never been keen on her father, and far too prideful to accept a family member that went against the wishes of the throne.
Stepping over the threshold of her temporary housing, she stopped at the sight of utter chaos. Pieces of armor lay strewn about as a trail leading up to one of the beds. A big sack made of brown cloth sat upon it next to a pile of clothing that had been thrown haphazardly. Following the mess further, she found the culprit sitting at the healer’s desk. With his chair tipped back on its hind legs, and one foot on the desk. He was focused on the letter in his hand and hadn’t even heard her coming in. She couldn’t help but imagine what Crystal’s reaction was going to be when she saw the state of her precious infirmary. Something told her, that it wasn’t going to be as peaceful anymore with Warchief living here.
Not wanting to disturb him, she was about to pass him silently but halted when she glimpsed the gold-speckled paper he was reading from. The stark contrast between his careless appearance and the overly ornate letter intrigued her. What kind of person had such money that they could waste it on a letter? Did he have a noble lover?
Looking over his face, she thought it not impossible. With a strong jaw, a nose that wasn’t perfectly straight, intriguing eyes, and of course that roguish smile that paired flawlessly with his easy demeanor. She could see many women and maybe even some men, fall for him.
As a child, she had heard more than her fair share of stories in which a decent woman was swept off her feet by a noble and handsome criminal. They had been her sister’s favorite.
“Can I help you?”
Warchief had turned to face her, somehow managing to still balance the chair while doing so. He looked at her with confusion, probably wondering why she was staring. Feeling a bit flustered and not wanting to state that she had been admiring his face, her eyes fell on the letter that had originally caused her to pause.
“I was curious as to what you were reading. I have never seen paper like that.”
The frown on his face disappeared as he waved her closer and reached out the letter.
“You could have just asked instead of drilling holes in my head.”
She shrugged her shoulders as she accepted the letter. It seemed like her theory had been wrong, or Warchief cared even less about keeping his personal matters private than she had expected.
“I didn’t want to involve myself in your personal life.”
Looking over the paper, she noticed that there had been a reason that he allowed her to read it. Up close, the letter was even more decadent than she had gathered before. It was thick but perfectly smooth, and the golden flecks made it shimmer in the candlelight. It was covered from top to bottom in writing, using an ink of a slightly darker shade of silver that seemed to illuminate as it reflected the flame. The lettering was cursive and swirly, making the words blend together. Still, she gathered that it had not been written in Lynean.
Glancing up from the text, she could see Warchief grin at her mischievously and she furrowed her brows in annoyance.
“Alright, so it is an extremely expensive letter with writing in a different language. Am I allowed to know where it comes from?”
Taking the message back from her, he turned the paper to show her the now broken seal.
“Expensive it is for sure. Not many peoples are as ostentatious as the elves tend to be.”
Her eyes grew wide as she looked back at the seal depicting an enormous tree. The tree of life that was said to be the deity of the elves. Of all the magical races, their existence was the hardest for her to grasp. A race of beings that lived eternally and were known for their wisdom and pacifism. They just sounded too perfect.
“Aren’t the elves supposed to be very secluded? How can you be talking to one of them? Actually, how do you even know Elvish?”
“I learned it a long time ago. They are secluded but I have my methods.”
He wiggled his eyebrows to emphasize the word and she was sure the disgust was clear on her face, as he busted out laughing. Maybe she should just tip that chair a little further.
“Come on, that was funny. Really, not even a little chuckle? No wonder Crystal calls you our prickly princess.”
She send the man a dead glare. In no way, was she going to allow them to stick that awful nickname on her. Instead of backpedaling, he only laughed harder leaving Lidea to stare at him in disbelief. It still boggled her mind that this supposed adult was the leader of the resistance and that he planned to save her country from a religious cult and royal tyranny.
They were doomed, weren’t they?
“Why do I need to laugh? You seem to find your own jokes entertaining enough.”
Holding a hand dramatically over his heart, he looked dismayed at her ‘cruel’ comment. The absurdity of this man’s acting skills made a smile unavoidable.
“Hah, see. I am funny. Even our princess can’t deny it.”
Lidea rolled her eyes with a sigh. Knowing full well, it would only egg him on. Before remembering what they had been talking about before.
That slimy eel!
Lidea had to admit that the man was a master at changing the subject when it suited him, but she wasn’t about to let him.
“So, what method did you have to get in contact with an elf?”
Warchief shrugged his shoulders and she almost expected him to start joking again but he finally straightened up. Taking his feet off the desk and using the chair as it was intended.
He reached for a stack of envelopes that sat in one of the piles of paper on the desk.
This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.
“We call these letters. I thought you had these here in Lynoës.”
He must have been the most frustrating and annoying man, she had ever met. Lidea forced herself to keep calm as she stared at him without breaking a smile.
“So you send a letter to a random elf and thought they would read it?”
Warchief’s smile diminished as he picked up that she wasn’t amused by his nonsense. With a deep sigh, he took some letters that had been in a different pile and showed them to her.
“No, I didn’t send a letter to a random elf. I have been contacting royals and other influential people in the magical realm to seek allies and aid. Not to look down on the resistance group, but overthrowing Lynoës will be hard to do on our own.”
“You mean impossible, right?”
It comforted her, that he was at least aware of how precarious his plan was. Taking the letters, she started to flick through them. Reading off the names to which they were addressed. Most of which were unfamiliar to her but that could have also been due to his horrible penmanship.
“Difficult. Nothing is really impossible if luck is on your side. But yes, I would rather have someone beside us when we start to move.”
Lidea refused to comment on his strange way of thinking. The heart of the matter was, that they would perish for sure if they attempted this with only a hundred amateur fighters.
While thumbing through the letters, her question about how exactly he contacted these people grew. The paper he used was nice but nowhere near the quality of the elvish one, and none of them seemed to carry a seal. There was only the chicken scratch that was supposed to be these influential people’s names. Assuming most of them would have an assistant handle their correspondences, she wouldn’t have expected any of the letters to reach the one they were intended to. Although the golden letter in front of them was evidence of the contrary.
“So have you received some positive responses? I assume that the elves weren’t the only ones you have already contacted?”
Warchief nodded his head as he took a piece of crumpled paper and showed the list of names on it. Of which around half had been crossed off.
“I started with the most important people like heads of the remaining dragon orders, the leaders of the magical north, and those of the countries that border south to Lynoës. Most haven’t responded yet, but we have the support of Iberios.”
Reading between the lines, she figured that her first instinct had been correct. Most had not taken his ask seriously. She knew almost nothing of Iberios, except that it was an island located closer to the Lands of Frost than to the rest of Asmeon. What would their support even mean?
“How long ago did you send them?”
He didn’t respond but the lack of reply already gave her the answer she sought for.
“Long enough, that you should have had a reply by now. If you send them a letter similar to these ones, then I’m not surprised. I’m honestly astonished that some got back to you.”
“What makes you think so? You haven’t even read any of them.”
“I don’t need to. The content is irrelevant. Look at it from their perspective. They receive a random piece of paper from a person they don’t know that writes as if he hasn’t had a day in class. Most people of a certain status will receive dozens or even hundreds of letters a day. They don’t have the time to read all of them. So either they themselves or an assistant will filter out what is important from what isn’t.”
In her mind's eye, she could see her father sitting behind the desk of his study. There had always been a stack of papers on one corner of it that never seemed to slink. From time to time, he would throw all remaining letters into a basket to read when he had time. In reality, he never read them.
She could see Warchief starting to understand what she was getting at. Turning to the letters that had been ready to be posted, he snorted out.
“So I wasted days writing letters that nobody read. Great. From the bright side, it means that there is still a chance that they might help us.”
Frustration showed on his face for only a fleeting moment, before he smiled again. She didn’t understand how he could so easily switch back to his positive demeanor. If she had been the one to discover that no one had even taken the time to consider her work, she would have returned to training to work out her anger.
“Any suggestions as to how I could make them at least open those letters?”
Lidea thought about that for a moment. A recognizable name would have been the easiest way. There was a reason why most asked connections that both parties had in common, to refer themselves to the other person. However, she doubted that Warchief knew enough people that would be close enough to these leaders. She knew that she didn’t.
“I suppose a small step would be to have better handwriting. That aside, what you really need is a symbol of status. A seal would work if it is one that they would recognize.”
However, it was something the resistance didn’t have access to. The few letters she had to send in the past, had been done using her father’s seal. However, she didn’t believe her family was known enough outside of Lynoës to be of any help. Not that it mattered, as she didn’t have it anymore.
“Sounds simple enough.”
Lidea looked up to see Warchief grin. She predicted that whatever he had in mind, wouldn’t be as simple as he thought.
“Do you have one?”
“Not at the moment. But it is simple enough to make one.”
Yep. She had thought right. This man was officially an idiot.
“Is that so and whose seal would you copy for this? Do you think they won’t find out and change their seal while letting everyone know before you had the chance to properly use it?”
His grin grew wider and Lidea feared what he was going to say next.
“Not if the seal is not in use anymore.”
She didn’t respond as she tried to think it over. Whose seal was he thinking of that was powerful enough while not being in use any longer? As she couldn’t figure it out, she waited for him to continue.
“We will use the one of the royal family of Hûldral. That should get their attention.”
He looked at her with a challenge in his eyes and she almost protested instinctively but stopped herself before doing so. Using the seal of Hûldral, wasn’t too bad of an idea. People would immediately know that it was someone impersonating them, as they had famously died out so long ago. However, she wouldn’t be surprised if people would still read the letter, even if it was only for the curiosity of it.
“That would work.”
Warchief didn’t expect her to agree so readily, based on his facial expression. This time, it was her who smiled smugly at having caused the man to feel off-kilter. As the surprise waned, he started chuckling.
“Well, I’m happy to see that I have your approval. I should be able to go to town and get someone to replicate it. I don’t think they will ask too many questions. It isn’t like that seal is very known here.”
Lidea nodded in agreement as she tried to imagine how the people he wanted to reach, would react to his plea for collaboration.
“That will make them open the letter at the minimum. Still, that doesn’t mean that they will help us. I don’t believe they deign Lynoës to be enough of a threat to get involved in a war.”
His silent nod told her that she wasn’t the only one who had felt this way.
“It is what it is. I can’t force them. Even if it is foolish of them to not stop this now before it spreads.”
Her eyes traveled to the letters on the desk. What would make them realize that they were in danger? They didn’t react when the dragon riders were forced to leave, didn’t protest when Morto banned all magic and if Warchief spoke the truth, they hadn’t reacted when the Pleberien religion spread farther south. Warchief was right. It was a mistake for them to do nothing.
“What if we force their hand?”
She murmured the question out loud, as she tried to keep up with her racing thoughts trying to give form to her ideas.
“Force their hand? How would we even do so?”
For the first time, Warchief sounded hesitant. She supposed that the idea of manipulating anyone disturbed his freedom-loving nature. The problem was, that fighting honorable had been what killed her men and she wouldn’t allow it to happen again.
“They don’t see Lynoës as a threat. Just a country without magic, how much harm can it really do? Well, what if it isn’t just Lynoës? What if king Morto found an alliance? Maybe with the Deadlands? Nobody knows anything of that place, except that it is the land where the undying creatures live. Maybe we can spread the rumor that Morto is planning an invasion with a monstrous force, the likes of which have never been seen before. I don’t know what the other countries are like, but the creatures of the deadlands are nightmare fuel for all who live in Lynoës.”
Tapping his fingers on the desk, Warchief seemed to consider her suggestion. Though he didn’t seem to be thrilled by it.
“It is risky. The threat of an undead army will for sure cause the powers at be to move. So in that sense, it is a great plan. My concern is the king of the Deadlands. He is a strange one, and I would rather not have him involve himself. Though normally he finds human matters to be beneath him, the last thing we want is that he decides this time to be an exception.”
Lidea nodded in understanding. It was a gamble. She was almost convinced that he would not show himself, but there was this small voice in the back of her mind that kept asking: what if?
If the King would take offense and turn against them, then there would be no Lynoës to save anymore. Nobody knew how many undead there were, but there were enough to fill an army. An army that didn’t die, no matter how often you killed them.
The thought alone made her shiver.
“I like it. High risk, high reward. Let’s do it. I will send someone to make the rumor spread.”
Worries cluttered her brain but she shoved them away. War couldn’t be fought without taking any chances.
“Actually, I would like to give them a letter. Some sort of proof for the story. I can make it look as if a noble wrote it. That could cause chaos and suspicion to grow in Morto’s court.”
He thought about it for only an instant before smiling brightly.
“Sounds good. Any other amazing ideas in that head of yours?”
She smiled as well but shook her head.
“I’m afraid that I have run out for now.”
Looking at the paper on the desk, she was reminded of Taylor and how she still owed the families of her men a letter of apology.
“Warchief? Would it be okay for me to borrow some of your scribing paper? I wanted to send some personal letters. I will pay you back in some way…”
He shook his head even before she finished speaking and handed her half of his pile of paper.
“Take whatever you want. There is no need for you to pay anything back. So don’t worry about that. Also, while we are at it. I finally got you those clothes, that Crystal asked for.”
He swiftly stood up from the chair and walked over to the bed, opening up the cloth bag and starting to unpack the clothes within.
“If you have a quick look and can let me know if anything is missing, I can go and get more.”
Looking over the clothes, she quickly noticed that every piece was of the finest make. Some of them even carried the maker's name, which is only done for products made to the highest standard. Together with the paper and notebook that had been so carelessly given away, she felt as if the man beside her had no concept of money.
“Thank you, but if you don’t mind me asking. How do you pay for all this?”