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Chapter 9: A Meeting With the Dragon Guard

The morning sun streams effortlessly over the horizon.  A small cloud of smoke trickles up into the fresh morning air.  Amalya opens her eyes and stares ahead.  The ground was hard from the cold night.  She never thought she would miss her small cozy bed or the warmth of the fireplace as much as she did at this moment. It is hard to believe that she chose this path herself.  “Was I ready to sacrifice so much?” Her mind stirs with a small sense of regret.  She sits up and rubs her eyes with her rather dirty forearm.  Arthur is already up, steadily gathering their supplies.  They were no more than a few hours from their destination and hopefully, to some long awaited answers.  Amalya slides her cloak over her head throwing her hood over her long unkempt hair.  She gently tucks her locks back inside her clothes.

Arthur looks up at her and smiles, “You seem to have slept well.” She grunts annoyingly at her brother’s attempt at humor.  “If by well you mean tossing like a fish on the hard ground then yes, I slept like a baby.”  She smiles at her brother.  She would not know where she would be if he had not come after her.  Dead more than likely, her lifeless body out of the cold River Thane.  She would have ended up frozen food for the hungry fish.  She owed him so much, more than she could ever hope to repay.

The two siblings gather up the rest of their belongings and head on down the road towards the City of Joro, the home of King Ulfrick Ravendore.  The Ravendore family were said to be descendants of the Blessed Marin who took their place as rulers after the Dragon Rebellions.  For generations they were friends of the Lords of the Sky, but when the dragons began to pillage and kill innocent people the king had no choice but to react. The rift between man and dragon was already becoming strained; the dragon attacks were seen as a sign that their reign was at an end. It was time for the dominion of men and nothing would stop the king from reaching that goal. Now the dragons were so few; all the lords remain in hiding and their dragon born sons are rarely seen outside their families’ domain. Dragon-borns … those half human half dragon abominations made Amalya shiver.

Amalya raises her hands over her head.  She stares at the approaching city with great longing.  She had always heard of the great City of Kings, how its walls were as tall as the mightiest oaks and its streets paved with gold.  The Castle itself was said to be a site to behold, with streaming tapestries woven of the finest silk and the royal throne plated with the finest jewels of the earth. 

“I wonder if all those tales are true…” Amalya spoke aloud, “Could it possibly be as grand as they say it is?”

Arthur shook his head, “Once a tale is told, its truths are lost as it’s passed between ears.  No one could really know unless they have seen it for themselves.”

“You’ve been here before, haven’t you? With Ser Gaston?”

“I have.”

“And…?”

He glances at her, “You will see soon enough.”

As they travel closer towards the city gates, the road becomes incredibly crowded.  Horse drawn carts filled with livestock and goods push their way through tinkers and foreign merchants.  Families hold on to the hands of their children, fearing they would get lost among the sea of chaos.  Amalya holds on to her brother’s arm as they push on through.  She keeps her head down, watching the hundreds of feet that liter the dirt road below.

Her eyes wander upwards as they reach the gate.  The large iron arms of the entrance to Joro tower over all who stand before it.  A golden circle encrusted with the fire raven of House Ravendore looms protectively over the gate, closely monitoring all that enter its domain.  Guards stand shouting and to wave their arms as they sort through the barrage of incoming merchants.  They busily hunt through the many carts and trunks of the prospective sellers, making sure that all items are in order and nothing out of the ordinary is smuggled into the city.  Arthur leads Amalya closer to him as they slowly follow the civilian crowd through the gates and into the city.

 The crowd soon dissipates like water on a rock as people begin to disperse towards their private destinations. Arthur calmly leads the way as Amalya’s eyes begin to scan the great city.  Buildings line the streets in row upon row of brick and mortar.  The air smells of a gentle mix of fresh sour bread and smoldering ash.  The two round a corner passing by the blacksmith’s shop and armory.  More weapons then she has ever seen hang from the wooden beams as a large bare chested man busily pounds new life into red hot metal.  Farther down the road, a rather large flowery mansion looms into view.  Ladies dressed in flattering clothing with their busts barely contained stand in the windows and doors, waving at wandering eyes that cannot help but stare.  Arthur glances up for a moment and catches the eye of a small dark haired raven.  She gives him a rather coy smile as he turns away, his face turning a rather awkward shade of red.  Amalya tugs at his arm, “Ladies of the night I take it?”

“They are not worth the cost.”

“But are fine to look at?”

His face becomes hard as they continue forward.  Amalya smirks and continues to take in all that is part of this great bustling city.  Compared to Rau, this place was a site to behold.

They turn another corner heading north.  The streets begin to widen and the crowds become less and less compacted.  Shops begin to gain a more elegant favor, emitting a much sweeter scent than those stationed amongst the common rabble.  Arthur stops suddenly and looks towards his right, “The Royal Dragon Guard is stationed in one of the main Castle towers.” He motions his head towards the right.  Amalya looks down the long wide road.  The Castle of Joro sits comfortably at the end of the brick layered road.  Guards of the finest stature stand at its entrance, keeping a vigilant eye on passers by.

They begin to walk down the road keeping a slow but steady pace.  Amalya looks up at her brother, whose face seems fixed in deep concentration, “How are we going to get in?”

“I am sure Commander Donnik would want to see us…once he’s heard we have come.”

“I do not think they would let any family member of the Dragon Guard just wander through the ranks unless one is summoned.”

“He must know by now that father has deserted them, therefore he will suspect that we know something.”

He looks towards Amalya’s worried face, “He needs information and we are going to give it to him.”

Amalya stops in her tracks, “No…”

“Think about it Amalya.  Commander Donnik wants to find their father as quickly as possible.  If we give them a false trail to go by that will give us more time to find him before they do.”

“He’s the Commander of the King’s Dragon Guard Arthur … he’s not that dim witted. He will not believe us.”

“Father is a deserter; his shame and dishonor are brought upon his family as well.  Only if the family denounces their loyalty or gives information on the deserters’ whereabouts are they pardoned of such a social disgrace.   We only need to convince him that we want no part of him.”

Amalya takes a deep breath and closes her eyes.  The thought of betraying her father fills her heart with sadness.  She wants nothing more than to see him safely home again, to rescue him from all the hardship he will soon face.  Arthur places his hands on her shoulders.  She opens her eyes and looks at him,

“More often then not this is how one’s family responds to the news of deserters.  It’s not uncommon…it will work.”

Amalya reluctantly nods her head in agreement.  If one must lie to achieve what is just then that is what she must do.  Arthur tugs at her arm as they continue to walk towards the castle. 

The castle stands in all its grandness behind heavy iron bars.  As they approach the gate, the guards slowly shift their heavy spears forward.  Arthur stands firm, keeping his face stern and serious.  Amalya tries to match her brother’s stature but finds herself a bit short.  This plan could go either way for the two siblings.  Are the rewards that much of a risk?  “It’s father. We’re doing this for father…” The words sound true as they pulse through her mind.  If they wanted to reach their father first this had to be done.  Even if they were weeded out as traitors, it would all be worth to punishment.

One of the guards finally opens his mouth, bellowing out a hard voice, “State your business here.”

Arthur does not hesitate to respond, “We wish to speak with First Commander Donnik of the King’s Royal Dragon Guard.”

The guard narrows his eyes at him but Arthur does not flinch.  “What is your business with the First Commander?” Amalya steps forward and pulls her brother back, “We have information concerning a deserter.”

“ And which deserter might that be?"

She hesitates, reluctant to give them his name.  Arthur does not interrupt but waits for her to respond to them.  After a few deep breaths, Amalya straightens her stance, “Lieutenant Wesley of the City of Rau.”
The guard steps back to converse with his partner.  They speak silently to one another.  Arthur shifts his stance and Amalya grabs his arm tight.  She squeezes it gently as if to reassure him that this will all go, smoothy, despite her nerves telling her otherwise.  After a moment, one of the guards turns towards them, “Wait here.”  He steps from his post and walks through the gate.  Amalya watches him walk off steadily.  The other guard eyes them closely, observing their every move.  Arthur is not shaken.  His face appears calm but his mind is racing, just as hers was.  His eyes betray every moment of his silence.  Whether the guard is able to pick up on it, Amalya did not know.

He finally returns.  His face still appears emotionless as he looks at them with determination, “Follow me.” Arthur steps forward with Amalya close behind him.  They walk quickly down the long finely stoned courtyard.  The grandness of the castle was overwhelming.  Its giant columns of fine stone shimmer in the sunlight.  Amalya squints her eyes at its grandness.  The many floors are lined with stain glass windows depicting great events in the history of Joro.  Inside those grand stonewalls lives the Royal family, the descendants of the Blessed Lady Marin.  It was almost as if she had walked into a fairy tale.  Her pace begins to slow as she begins to imagine herself walking the halls of the grand castle.  Upon scanning the castle walls, she notices movement behind one of the windows.

A boy stands complacent, small shining crown adorns his golden head.  Amalya watches him as his eyes follow her steps. He was young, no older than 12.  His crown gives him away as Prince Josef, the heir to the Ravandore throne.  She comes to a complete stop and stands in the midst of the courtyard.  After a moment, she smiles and waves at the little prince.  To her amusement, he smiles back at her.  

“Amalya!”

 She quickly turns and races to catch up with her brother.  The two siblings make their way towards the tower approach.  The guard stops at the large oak door.  It opens as if by his presence alone and the three walks into the Hall of the Dragon Guard.

The hall was bustling with heavily armored men.  Voice commands seem to be echoing through every corner.  Large tables of food and drink adorned the many tables surrounding the door.  A few men raised their heads at their entrance.  Amalya tries not to look at them.  There has never been a lady member of the Royal Dragon Guard.  Women warriors were very rare in the Kingdom of Joro.   Unless a witch, women were only good for cooking and bearing children.  Witches had tainted blood. Their powers were seen as abominations to mankind.  Many were cast out or killed by those who wished to show them mercy.

Amalya pulls uncomfortably at her cloak as they are led away from the main hall.  They head down a small corridor, passing men as they go.  They finally come to a large heavy door.  The guard stops in front of it and places his hands on the iron handle.  Amalya holds her breath as he slowly pries the door ajar.  Inside the large stone room, two very large men stand over a table.  They are deep in conversation as they point and strategize across a scale map of the kingdom.  Their heads turn as they enter the room.  The guard stands firm, announcing their arrival, “ First Commander Donnik, the family of Lieutenant Wesley.”

One of the men straightens his stature.  He stands with an immense pride as he towers over his companion.  His armor is splashed with the vibrant colors of the guard and a heavy gold chain of authority hands form his strong neck.  His eyes shift from the guard to where they stand.  Arthur looks at him and bows his head, “First Commander Donnik.” 

Donnik looks as his companion moves his head towards the door.  Without question, the man leaves the room.  He then opens his mouth, admitting a very powerful and authoritative voice, “Thank you Yorell, you may return to your post.” The guard nods his head and turns to leave, closing the door behind him.  

Amalya stands uncomfortably next to her brother.  Donnik ushers them towards a large empty table, “Please have a seat.” Arthur calmly walks ahead and stands by one of the chairs, “Thank you for agreeing to speak with us First Commander.”
“Please, you may call me Ser Donnik.”

He takes a seat across from where they stand.  Arthur pulls out one of the chairs to sit.  Amalya follows suit with her brother, not wanting to make the wrong move.  She looks at Ser Donnik.  His face has been scarred from years of battle and strife.  He appears strangely happy to see them; almost as if he has been anticipating their arrival.  After a few moments, he begins to speak, “Your father speaks of you so much I feel as if I know you.”

Arthur sits quietly, taking every word spoken to them with the utmost caution, “He spoke very highly of you as well ser.  He was very proud to be made Lieutenant under your command.”

“He deserved such an honor, he has never disappointed the Guard…”
Silence resumes between the three. Amalya wipes her sweaty hands across her lap.  Donnik shifts in his seat and grabs a pitcher from the table.  He holds it up towards Arthur, who reluctantly shakes his head at the offer.  Ser Donnik slowly begins to pour himself a cup of rather strong spelling wine, “Arthur is it?”

“Yes, sir.”
“And this is your sister Elra?”

“No ser, Elra is my eldest sibling.  This is Amalya, the youngest.”
Ser Donnik stops pouring and looks up at Amalya.  She nervously sits up straight, wondering why he seems so cautious.  After a moment, he relaxes again and places the pitcher back down on the table,
“Of course it is.”

He lifts up the cup, taking a long gulp of fresh wine.  He wipes his mouth and takes a deep breath in, “I am puzzled by your presence here.  There is no news of your father deserting the Guard.”

Amalya’s heart leaps up to her throat.  She turns to Arthur whose face flashes with confusion for just a moment before settling again.  He shifts his gaze to Amalya before facing the Commander again, “I do not understand ser…”

“I received word form him not two days ago with a full report of his patrol in the west.  He is leading a band of men through Andi, fulfilling orders to investigate a disturbance thought to be dragon activity.” He pauses to take another sip of wine, “I have detected no indication of his intentions of abandonment.”

Amalya reaches into her pouch and begins to pull out the letter he had sent them.  Arthur quickly grabs her arm from underneath the table. “We received a rather disturbing letter,” Arthur says with utter calmness, “It came to us the week of the 3rd.”  He reaches towards his satchel and pulls out a piece of parchment identical to the one sitting in Amalya’s hand.  He pushes it carefully across the table.  Ser Donnik takes it gently from him and observes the outside of the letter.  The same dark seal of the Dragon guard sits broken at the edge of the pale letter.  Amalya watches as he opens the letter.  His eyes begin to shift across the parchment.  Amalya looks down at the letter in her lap.  She feels around the parchment and notices the wax seal no longer rests on its fine edge.  She returns to watch Ser Donnik, who continues to read the letter.

He looks up, first at Arthur and then to Amalya.  His face remains motionless, the same empty stare reflects back into their faces.  He throws the letter on the table, “This letter shows signs of being tampered with.”

Arthur leans forward and stares at the letter.  Ser Donnik flips the parchment over, exposing the carefully placed wax seal, “The seal has been placed there after it has already dried and the writing does not match your father’s hand, although it is quite a realistic attempt.”

He looks up at Amalya and smiles, “It appears someone wishes your father hunted down.”  Arthur looks up at Ser Donnik, “Why would someone wish to do such a thing?”

“ There could be many factors involved here.  A vendetta of some kind…” He takes the letter again and tucks it deep inside his armor, “I will have my men go over the letter to try and pin point the imposter.”

Amalya reluctantly speaks up, “What will happen?”
Donnik smiles at her innocent concern, “I will be sure to have my men keep a vigilant watch over him.  The last thing we need is treachery amongst our ranks.  Things are bad enough as it is.”

He stands up form his chair, Arthur quickly follows suit.  He turns to Arthur, “Thank you for bringing this to my attention.  We may have avoided an unwelcomed attempt of treason.” He extends his hand.  Arthur reaches forward and grasps it hardily. 

“It is good to be reminded that there are still loyal citizens of this great kingdom.”

They break away from one another.  They step away from the table and head towards the door. Ser Donnik opens the door and summons a guard to his side.  He turns to them one more time, “It was a pleasure to meet you.”
“And you as well Ser.”

He turns towards Amalya and smiles at her.  His face appears sincere but behind those dark eyes, Amalya could not help but feel threatened.  “Farewell to you.”

The guard begins to lead them down the hall.  Arthur and Amalya follow suite.  She turns around for one last look at the First Commander.  He stands outside his door as they walk away from his presence. He cautiously retreats silently back into the room. Amalya looks forward once again knowing that something was horribly wrong.

Next Chapter: Chapter 10: A Meeting at the Inn