While going down, she noticed some of the men returning from dinner, reminding her that she hadn't had any food since the day before. Normally it was Crystal who would make sure she ate in time, but with her being gone the whole day, Lidea had forgotten about it. The smell of stew wafted her way and her stomach began to growl. Now that she wasn't going to live in the infirmary anymore, she would have to get used to taking her meals at the communal mess hall. Figuring this was as good a time as any, she followed her nose to one of the buildings closest to the exercise field. It had been taken care of better than the others. The white façade had been mostly freed from the blueish moss and even a freshly painted sign had been hung showing a rearing white stallion with a pull of beer.

If she hadn't been standing in an underground city, she could have envisioned it being one of the many taverns lining the streets of the capital.

Her hand hovered over the doorknob, as she tried to calm her nerves. Rationally she understood that there was no reason for her apprehension, but the thought of being the only outsider among them made her stomach churn. Or maybe that was just her hunger.

Taking a deep breath, she gathered herself and pushed through the door without a second thought. Inside she was met by a cacophony of voices, and the familiar smell of food and drink. The room was filled with circular wooden tables, each of which was packed with people. Most seemed to have finished their meals and were now enjoying each other's company while having some beers and playing cards. Looking at her surroundings, she could almost imagine herself standing in a pub above ground instead of this makeshift mess hall.

Yet, at a closer look, she could make out the remnants of what had once been a noble's sitting room.

Some pieces of heraldic wood paneling still remained higher on the wall, but it was the ceiling that gave the biggest insight. Painted completely in expensive blues, it depicted a peaceful scenery of colorful dragons flying around the centerpiece of the room. A great chandelier, adorned with rubies and rhinestones that had somehow survived any sticky hands through the years.

She didn't immediately notice when a hush fell over the crowd. Pulling her attention away from the ceiling, she saw how most of the men had turned to stare at her. They were probably wondering at her presence, but she wasn't in the mood to explain herself and decided to ignore them instead.

They will get used to me eventually.

Their eyes made her uncomfortable, and she hurriedly picked her way through the crowd. Trying desperately not to trip over any stray legs. Finally, she reached the doorway leading to the connecting room, in which she could see the end of a short cue. Joining the line, she let her eyes wander over the table that they were slowly moving towards. She was glad to see a variety of food to choose from, but couldn't help staring at some of the platters which were suspended in the air.

An inscribed crystal laid beneath them and glowed a feint orange. Lidea had heard of inscription magic before. From what she understood, it was a technique through which magicians embedded a piece of their magic into an object. The book had told her, that its invention had been a breakthrough for the magical realm. All who held magic were limited to those kinds for which they held aptitude. Be it water magic, invisibility, or something as stupid as running fast. Yet inscribed objects could be activated by all varieties of magic. Making it possible for magicians to use skills that had previously been out of reach.

None of the people around her seemed to be as entranced by the display of magic, as she was. Which was to be expected as all of them had some sort of magic ability and had presumably been educated on the subject. Looking from face to face, she didn't find anyone with whom she was acquainted enough to ask further questions. Instead, she made a mental note to look into it later, when she returned to her reading.

As she drew nearer, her mouth watered while looking at the half-emptied communal dishes. Making her almost rethink her decision to take the food home with her. Still, she had no desire to try and find somewhere to sit among people that didn't know what to make of her yet.

In other words, instead of a warm stew, she would have to make do with some bread and cheese.

"You alright carrying that?"

The low voice caught her off guard and she almost dropped her bag of clothes. Turning to face whoever had been talking, she was surprised to find Firon watching her. Fearing that he was looking for a fight, she was pleasantly surprised when he didn't seem outright hostile for once.

"Yes, I'm fine. I hoped to just pick up some bread and be on my way."

He looked at her with those intense brown eyes before nodding and looking at the queue before them.

"Can you pass a lunch bag for the lady, guys? No point in her waiting around in our stench if she is not staying to eat."

Although meant well, she felt mortified about being offered special treatment.

What a pain.

"It is fine Firon, I have smelled worse. Besides, it is only a short wait anyway."

The giant gave her a look that she imagined someone would give a stubborn child, before snorting and answering her in a quiet voice.

"You look like your dead on your feet. Honestly, I would prefer you to have a warm meal but I fear that you would fall asleep as soon as you sit down."

She hadn't expected the tenderness with which he voiced his concern. Paying attention to herself, she could feel that she was exhausted. It had been a long day. Still, he was being a bit overdramatic. Some food would go a long way, and she would sleep soon enough. Though instead of protesting, she just nodded her head and accepted the bundle of food the guys put together. None seemed annoyed that she had jumped the line. At least she heard no complaints.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it. We owed you anyway, especially me. I was assuming a lot of things that I shouldn't have. You did well today. I would love to see your skills when you are a bit more than skin and bones."

A gentle smile characterized his words to be well-intentioned and Lidea couldn't help but grin in turn. Glad that she was gaining some of their respect.

"Don't worry. When I'm better, I will gladly start kicking all your asses."

A round of laughter erupted around them. She hadn't noticed that everyone had been listening to their conversation, even the men in the main room. Her cheeks warmed but she just laughed it off.

"I'll look forward to that moment. I have been getting bored ever since Warchief refuses to fight me. Have a good rest princess."

The nickname grated on her ears, and he lightly patted her shoulder before returning to his table. Lidea narrowed her eyes at his retreating back and imagined how much fun it would be to kick his ass in the future. It would hopefully teach them to not call her princess anymore. Waving the men goodbye, she retraced her steps until she stood on the main road. It was only then that Firon's words registered in her mind. Why did Warchief decide to stop sparring with him?

Outside of that moment on the stance, where she hadn't been fully conscious, she hadn't had the chance to see the leader of the resistance fight. She should ask him for a sparring match.

Hearing her stomach rumble once more, she grabbed the bag with bread rolls and started to scarf them down while walking to her final destination of the day.

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Soon she stopped before the same greenish-grey house of that morning. Letting her eyes fall on the family saying, it struck her how much those simple words resonated with her. Resist and bite. No matter what happens, you never give up and keep fighting. It reflected the strong ties that the old Chasseur family had with the military and formed a stark contrast to the saying of the Valkyrea household which reflected its rural origin. Aime l'inaimable. Love the unlovable. Words better suited for the peaceful life at the eastern border that they had enjoyed until her father married her mother and moved to the capital.

Pushing through the door, she was greeted by a cloud of dust and utter darkness. The light of the moss outside wasn't bright enough to penetrate more than just a couple of steps from the doorway. In her haste to leave the infirmary behind, she hadn't thought to bring any practicalities with her. Most she could do without for the night, but she regretted not bringing any source of light.

As the dust settled, she couldn't see much, besides the fact that she was standing in another sitting room. Although in this one, the floor and walls were covered in woodwork and not left bare.

Looking to the side, she was delighted to find a lantern and tinderbox placed on a little ledge.

Seems like she wouldn't be spending her night in the dark after all.

Dropping her things to the ground, she picked up the small silver box. Her fingers glided over the elaborate decoration of the item, as well as a heavy coat of dust. Her glee quickly turned to skepticism, as the box must have belonged to the last inhabitant of the place. With the high humidity within the underground cave, it would be a miracle if the tinder inside hadn't absorbed any moisture throughout the years.

Looking back at the darkness behind her, she wasn't yet ready to give up on the promise of fire. Taking the fire steel out of the box, she used the spine of her new eating knife to swipe sparks into existence. Although the tinder started to smoke, the sparks went out before they had the chance to start a fire. Grumbling in annoyance, she was about to give up, when finally a tiny flame started to flicker. Excited, she swiftly transferred it to the lantern before it had a chance to die.

With a light in hand, she turned back to the room and saw what she had already guessed. She was standing in a medium-sized sitting room, smaller than the one she had been in before but sizeable enough to be suitable for a noble's home. It did surprise her to not find any paintings on the walls.

Instead, the owner had opted to carve out images and decorations in the wood paneling itself. As she was straining to see what was shown in these pieces of art, she noticed a standing candelabra in the corner. Lighting the candles, she decided to look around if there were any other light sources she could use. Unexpected, she found quite a few and the room was fully illuminated in no time. She had thought the many candles within the infirmary to be a recent addition by courtesy of the resistance, but apparently, even magic-wielding dragon riders used candles instead of magic to light their homes.

Her eye moved to the middle of the room, where a couple of seats stood in a circle. All of them were covered in thick blankets, and Lidea held her breath as she pulled them off. Another dust storm spread throughout the air forcing her to cough.

Maybe she would have to ask around if anyone had the power of cleaning within the resistance.

Chuckling over her own thoughts, she turned her attention to the uncovered furniture. The sofas were well made and had reddish pillows filled with downy feathers, but overall they were rather plain. Especially when compared to the more ornate styles popular in the capital. Still, no one would mistake the house for belonging to a person of less renown. Not when every bit of space on the walls was intricately carved with sceneries and people.

She could even swear that she recognized a man whom she had only seen in paintings before. King Guischard, was a short and stubby man who had been praised for his kindness and social projects. Most of the poorer neighborhoods had been built by him to replace the slums that had originally existed. Providing even the most downtrodden of citizens with a safer and cleaner place to live. He had also built most of the public schools, that now were either taken over by the church or had been demolished for teaching blasphemy.

However, the reason why he was so well known, was because of his death. When a plague spread over Lynoës, he took on the role of a nurse and helped in the local infirmaries. Putting himself at risk to help his people and dying because of it. Ever since he had been made into an example of how a king ought to act.

The fact that the carver had been able to create such detail meant that he was given plenty of time to perfect his craft. A good sign, that whoever had lived here had been wealthy. Very wealthy.

Ruling out the possibility that the dragon rider in her family had been from a distant branch and confirming that her family had been lying to her.

It was almost funny that one time, the Chasseur family had been so involved with the dragon riders. While now, her mother stood next to a king who slaughtered people because of their sin of being born.

Does she not know?

Lidea doubted it. Her mother was incredibly smart and had always been very close to her own father. It was far more likely that she had held her tongue as well. Wanting to save her neck.

Anger burned through her at the hypocrisy. How could she support a man that wanted to not only kill innocent strangers, but that would be willing to murder their entire family if he knew? That had killed her husband already!

Incensed and wanting to distract herself, she started to search every room in the house. Desperate to find information. Who knows what else they had hidden from her? But with each room, her disappointment grew. All looked the same. Furniture had been covered and they lacked any personal items. Making her think, that maybe no one had ever lived here. That it had been built for an emergency but never used.

Frustrated she entered the final door on the ground floor. It led to a set of stairs that went down in a short spiral. Lidea expected to find a pantry or butter room but instead found herself in a full-blown armory. The room was too big to illuminate completely with the light of her simple lantern, so she looked around for any candles to light. She found none, but as she was going to head upstairs to grab some, she walked into a stand that held a bowl of liquid in the middle of the room. The fluid was cloudy and a sniff told her that it was oil. Lighting it, she expected the bowl to act as a torch.

What she didn't expect, was for it to burn as high as the ceiling in an eerie green flame. Stumbling back, she suddenly found herself back on the stance. At that horrible moment, her face was burned and she was convinced that she was going to be burned alive.

Sweating and with a pounding heart, she tried desperately to calm her breathing. Moving towards the stairs, she kept a wary eye on the stand that still bore the green pillar of fire. Words glowed upon it, reminding her of inscription magic again. Though she didn't understand how it had activated, with no magician around to do so.

As her body came down from its highly anxious state, she started looking at the rest of the room. For now, the spell seemed to be stable, but she had no idea if it would start to go out of control at any moment. The wisest decision would be to leave the cellar and talk to Warchief about it tomorrow. But seeing what she did, she couldn't contain her curiosity and wonder.

One side of the wall had boxes upon boxes, all neatly sealed and with words written on them in Lynean, to indicate what the contents were. The other wall, the one she had seen as she came in, held different weapons and multiple full sets of armor. However, none of that mattered when compared to the set of equipment at the back of the room. There stood a statue of a dragon as big as the back wall. It had been carved in exquisite detail, similar to the wood carvings upstairs. Upon it, a gold-colored armor was draped. Covering the animal from head to tail tip and it even contained braces for its legs. The only comparison she could make was to a horse's barding, but then with more articulating pieces to allow for the dragon's fluid movement in the air.

The statue was impressive, but what took her breath away was how the armor hung haphazardly off it. As if the dragon was too small to fit the harness and the saddle. Stories had told her that dragons were big, and she knew now that they still existed. But only while standing there next to what had once been a real dragon's armor, she understood just how terrifyingly big they were.

Then her eyes fell on a letter that was rolled up and stuck into the dragon's helmet. Taking it, she could see the boar seal on it. A message from house Chasseur.

Breaking the seal, she took a deep breath before she unrolled the parchment. Uncovering contents written in old-fashioned Lynean.

The dragon order has decided that it is time to go. The number of us that wanted to stay has been decreasing through the years, so this decision was inevitable. Who can blame us? Dragon nor man is made to live beneath the ground. We have been here for twenty long years. Twenty years of waiting for the king to come back to his senses. But it is fair to assess that if he hasn't by now, then he never will. His greed grew too large and now everyone has become his enemy. Even his own son is now a threat.

I heard he send the crown prince on a fool's errand to prove his worth in the woods of Umbrae and that your Valkyrea boy offered to join him. Although his courage and loyalty are admirable, it borders on stupidity. He should have thought of his fiancé before deciding to join such a dangerous mission. Milena, I know you love him, but I implore you to call off that engagement. That boy burns too bright and when the dark times come, bright lights are the first to be snuffed out.

I asked your father to send you to me, but you aren't here. Either your father never gave you my message, or you believe truly that you can live freely as you have done so far. If you are reading this letter, then my worst fears might have become reality.

I left you all possessions that could help you on your journey. Travel east past the Godly Range toward the hidden harbor. From there, a boat can bring you to us.

I wished I could do more, but all the portals have been closed and the magical races have cut all communications. When we leave, I won't be able to send letters anymore.

Milena, I hope I'm wrong and that you live a long and happy life.

I wish you the best little rider,

Your Uncle Daevys