More than a hundred years have passed since the departure of Eragon Bromsson - Shadeslayer, Lightbringer - and of his dragon, Saphira Bjartskular, from the dwarven trading post Hedarth for the unexplored eastern lands beyond.

In the first ten years that elapsed since the pair left, reconstruction efforts were started in earnest by the newly elected High Queen of Alagaesia, Nasuada Nightstalker. Villages that were razed to the ground in the war were rebuilt as towns; cities that were decimated to dust were rebuilt into even greater citadels. The welfare of her people was the High Queen's foremost concern. Her townships were built with the help of dwarven ingenuity, creating aquifers for water and large spaces for future construction. Elven magic boosted her kingdom's agriculture, and planted gardens where there was once stone.

One of her most famous (or infamous, if you asked certain spellcasters) deeds was the establishment of the Magicians' Guild - an academy that would train young spellcasters in the proper uses of their skill, and an institution that all magicians in the kingdom came under the jurisdiction of. To the inaugural Guildmaster post, she assigned one Dain Durlansson, a former member of the spellcasters' group Du Vrangr Gata. He was soon replaced by a much brighter pupil of his: Haemir of the Hadarac, who has recently been come to known as Sandweaver.

To the south, King Orik of Clan Ingeitum also continues to rule in peace and stability. While the twelve clans continue to bicker, there is some sense of harmony between them as they too recuperate their losses from the war. Mining activities have been increased, and their smithies are facing severe deficiencies in metalworkers to craft materials, despite the hardworking nature of the dwarves. Furthermore, their society is still reeling from the creation of dwarven Dragon Riders, just three in the past century, but three more than the clans are used to. They are not shunned, but treated with more wariness than a Dragon Rider should be. Nonetheless, the dwarves will prosper.

In the southwest, the kingdom of Surda perseveres as well, for her people are a hardy folk, toughened by their long history of war with the slain usurper Galbatorix. The weakened leadership of King Orrin Langfeld does hamper their progress, however, and it is good fortune that his chief adviser, Irwin Baridian, has stepped in to take charge of certain aspects of running the kingdom. The lands bequeathed to Surda will benefit her in the long run, for her people will surely know how to make use of them. They have not forgotten their roots, and they will work to keep themselves alive. Surda has a slow start, but it will soon be a kingdom to match the Broddring Empire.

To the north, the elves have nearly finished rebuilding their destroyed cities, but the young Arya Dröttning faces other problems in her own court in Ellesmera. Much more than a sharp wit and a tongue to match is needed to survive the elven court, yet Arya Dröttning somehow thrives in her kingdom's twisted politics. Quite a few of her policies have proven unpopular amongst the more conservative lords, such as opening up the borders of Du Weldenvarden, and signing trade pacts and alliances with the human and dwarven kingdoms. Wise decisions, on her part, but whether the elven aristocrats will see them as such, only time will tell.

To the northwest, the Earl of Palancar Valley, Roran Stronghammer, has become a strong leader to the villagers of the Spine. He has built a mighty castle on Carvahall Hill, and expanded Carvahall till it nearly merges with the nearby village of Therinsford. He is also the Broddring Empire's ambassador to the Urgal population living in the Spine, and he deals with their chieftains and the Herndall. A fitting role, for he is well-respected amongst the Urgal race. It is due to his efforts that even the people of the Spine have become much less suspicious of those horned beings. It is also through him that the annual Alagaesian Games have been successful to the restrainment of the Urgals' love of war. Their representatives have won countless times in the arena in those first ten years.

And finally, to the east, there sailed Eragon Shadeslayer, his dragon Saphira, and his ten trusted elven companions. None can truly say what occurred during those ten years, for many strange tales have cropped up indeed. But those times are long past, and the old stories are just that - stories. Now more than a century has come and gone since his leave, and a new generation of Riders is ready once more to make the journey to Dragonhome.

Onwards, to New Vroengard.


81XX AC

Second Week of Spring

Unknown Writer

The ship heaved in the waves that battered the western coast of the island. Gulls circled in the air high above them, squawking something intelligible to them. A welcome, perhaps. They only hoped that they didn't drop anything on them. One of the sailors had thrown a rope onto the boardwalk, mooring the ship to the harbour, before another one laid out the gangplank for the passengers to head onto shore. Well, there were only four passengers, really, much too little compared to the size of their vessel, but it had been decided that they'd take a ride on a supply ship that was heading to the island at the same time. Crates were being unloaded and barrels were being rolled out even as the four of them hauled out their luggage from their sleeping quarters.

A cool shore breeze blew across their faces, smelling faintly of salt. The four passengers disembarked from the ship, careful not to fall off into the sea, and stood together on the boardwalk, modest sacks slung over each of their shoulders. At each of their feet stood dragons - yes, dragons - of vibrant colours, standing knee-high and full of anticipation. Their eyes shifted around, taking in the unfamiliar island - her coastal waters were clearer than any they had seen before, and the harbour was surrounded by the whitest sand. Further in, the sand faded into grass, ending off with a high cliff face that was masked by vegetation. The island was so pristine and so lush with greenery that they wondered if there was anyone living here at all.

But then again, this was the island of New Vroengard, and everyone knew this harbour was where Eragon Lightbringer had first set foot. (Someone had even put down a stone marking the place where he had washed ashore.)

As the sailors continued unloading their cargo, the four had their attention drawn towards a person who had suddenly emerged from the cliff face, like a ghost who had walked through a wall. Her hair was coppery red, bright enough to see from a distance, and her clothes were light grey, save for one green strip of cloth that had been tied around her head. As she approached, they were able to take a closer look at her: strong features she had, with calm grey eyes that could have hidden a storm deeper underneath.

"Atra esterní ono thelduin," said the fiery-haired woman, and she twisted her right arm over her sternum and bowed.

They scrambled to return her greeting, for they did not expect her to greet first. Even their dragons dipped their heads a little. The woman chuckled at their nervousness.

"My name is Ismira Katrinasdaughter. I'm one of the senior Riders who'll be in charge of your training for the next ten years or so-" and she chuckled again at the look at some of their faces. "Yes, ten years! Did the elven queen not tell you hatchlings so? The journey to becoming a Rider is no easy one, but I promise it's something that you'll cherish for the rest of your life, as I have found. You have no idea how easy apprentice life is!" Ismira really seemed to enjoy laughing, as she chuckled for the third time.

"I hope your voyage here had been alright. The sea around here can get pretty choppy sometimes. Now then, say your goodbyes to the crew of the Hvass, we're going into Doru Aiedail soon."

They did just that, and followed her up the gentle slope towards the cliff face. Were they going to learn how to walk through solid rock? Or was the cliff merely an illusion to hide the city within? It was neither, it turned out. When they went closer to the cliffside, they realized that the entrance was merely well-hidden in an alcove of rock that blended in easily with the rest of the cliff, thanks to all the vegetation. It was twice as tall as them and five times as wide.

"This is the Riders' door, for when we pass through here alone. If ever a dragon needs to come through…" Ismira drew their eyes upwards. They could barely make out the thin outline of a giant door in the cliff, fifty times the size of the Riders' door. "This is still a rather small door, for a dragon," she explained. They followed her into the cliff, where a tunnel the size of their door had been dug out. Dim lantern light glowed from the ceiling. A gentle incline in the tunnel led upwards to a hole of light at the other end, the exit. The four went in single file, not daring to walk ahead of Ismira, and several minutes of walking finally brought them to the other side of the cliff.

They gasped collectively. The four young Riders were standing on a raised ledge, giving them clear view of their immediate surroundings. It seemed like something straight out of a storybook from ages past, untouched by time or ruin. There were roaring waterfalls flowing down cliffs of green, collecting in a large crystalline pool. Rivers wound past them like blue ribbons on a green fabric, and there were trees as far as they could see. A morning mist lay in the air. Spires of rock rose up in the distance. There was no way they could take in everything, even if they stood there for the entire day.

"Alright, stop gawking," called Ismira, who had walked down a set of stairs carved into this side of the cliff. She looked amused at their wonder. "There'll be plenty to look at later on. This is but a scale on the dragon, as they say."

And indeed there were more sights to behold as they travelled towards the castle, which Ismira said was located near the centre of the island. They saw trees like the Greatwoods of Du Weldenvarden, sung into wondrous shapes. There were statues in certain groves, and paths through the forest that were dappled by sunlight through the leaves. Birds sung from every branch. As they walked through clearings, they could see the beginnings of the castle poking over the horizon, and they quickened their pace each time. The dragons were equally excited, and grew more so when familiar shapes wheeled through the sky high above them, breathing brilliant flames. The fire in their bellies were growing hot.

"We're nearly to the castle, now. So before I forgot, tell me your names!" said Ismira. Their boots crunched the dirt beneath their feet as they spoke. It was more for her own benefit than theirs, for they had become well-acquainted with each other during their short training stint in Du Weldenvarden.

"I am of Clan Ragni Hefthyn, the River Guard. My name is Melik," said the shortest of them. "And I the dragon, Uldr," said the dragon, whose scales were blue like the ocean.

"I am Ayduin, son of Ganelien, she of the harp. I hail from House Rilvenar," said the oldest. His dragon was Navi, with a colour like stone.

"Obec, I am known as. My tribe is Ahgrat, and my father is warchief," said the tallest. His dragon was ironically the smallest - Jekthu was he, and he was yellow like the sun.

Then the quietest spoke. "I'm Rin," said she. And that was all. "Telamon is the name I chose." Her dragon was whiter than snow.

"Interesting names, all. I'm sure the Lorekeeper would very interested in them," said Ismira, as they crossed a wooden bridge that arched over a babbling stream. "And look, the gate!"

They swung their gaze upwards. Two columns of stone stood on either side of their path, with sculptures of dragons winding around them. At the top of the columns were two stone bowls, possibly to be lit up at night. A slight shiver went through them as they passed through. "What was that…?" asked Ayduin, the most sensitive to magic of the four.

"Wards," Ismira said. She wouldn't explain further, but brought them through the gates.

Doru Aiedail was all they expected, and more. Naturally, there were dragon motifs in many places, from the tiling, to the buildings, to the very main gates to Doru Aiedail itself, which were giant sculptures of rock in the form of two crouching dragons. But there were other patterns that they noticed as well. Stone leaves and vines crept up the side of walls, while there were images of scenes from the Beor Mountains and the Western Ocean imprinted onto certain surfaces. Melik and Ayduin noticed how the buildings were all a mix of dwarven and elven architecture, shaped by wood but filled with stone. The streets were wide enough to fit three adult dragons walking side by side, and the buildings of similar scale. And trees. Trees and plants were everywhere. It was as if the city had been built within a garden, yet everything was clean and well-tended to, created to serve the needs of the Rider Order.

They continued to follow Ismira through the streets, which were sparse of people in such a large city like this. Most they passed by were Riders, of course, their eyes widening at the glinting swords at their hips, while there were some who were guests from mainland Alagaesia, come to visit relatives who were members of the Order. An even smaller number were people who lent their services to the Riders, but these were largely volunteers, for the Riders did not like hiring others to work for them. "How can we serve others if we are being served ourselves?" explained Ismira.

A broad stone road led up to a grand flight of stairs that led up to the second tier of the city. This was the highest tier, apparently, so the castle was in the centre. The second was more crowded than the first, since it had been the first one to be built. More important buildings like the library and smithery were located here. Riders waved at the four as they walked past, some even stopping to chat with them, and here they encountered other, older apprentices who had already spent several years on New Vroengard.

"Where are you from?" asked one, whose name was Lyra. She stood at least head taller than all of them, save for Obec, and had long silver hair tied into a neat braid.

"You'll find out soon, Lyra. These four will be introduced to everyone at the afternoon bell anyway," said Ismira. "Shouldn't you be running off to lessons with Moor?"

"Ah, yes, I should be. Farewell, Ismira-elda!" She took off faster than a horse could run. Typical elf.

They finally came to the gates of the castle after several more strides, which were wide open to let the Riders go in and out easily. A Rider and an orange dragon were sleeping in the courtyard in front of the entrance, the dragon blocking the gate with his tail. Ismira stalked up to the Rider angrily and rapped him on the head, making him sit up with a start. The dragon, through their mind-link, woke up as well.

"Sleeping on duty, are you?" Ismira scolded. The storm that had been hidden beneath her grey eyes had surfaced.

"Ah, well, I was only going to take a short nap, Ismira-elda!" the Rider protested, only to receive another rap to his head.

"'A short nap'?" Ismira snorted. "Knowing you two, a short nap would mean you'd be sleeping away the rest of the morning."

"S-sorry, Ismira-elda," he grumbled. He and his dragon got back into position, looking slightly more alert but still seeming as if they'd fall back to the ground at anytime. Ismira shook her head and motioned for the four to follow.

"That was just Perrin and Taem. I'm sure you'll find out more about them later." She led them into the entrance hall, which had a high-vaulted ceiling and windows that spanned from floor to roof. A skylight allowed sunlight to filter in, shining down onto a large white statue of a Rider and dragon poised for battle. The Rider was holding his sword out in one hand, and there was an egg tucked underneath the other. The dragon appeared to be in flight, jaws open to bite or breathe flame.

But Ismira directed their attention not to the statue, but to the four Riders who were standing (or in one case, sitting) at the front of the pedestal.

"Who are they?" asked Ayduin.

"They will be your teachers for your entire apprenticeship here," answered Ismira. "They're going to start you on your orientation here. They'll take care of you and make sure you don't do anything stupid." She smiled at the four of them. "And now, I must take my leave. Don't worry. You're in good hands. I know no better Riders to pass on all that we know to you." Ismira nodded at the four senior Riders, and as she had said, left them by going back through the castle gate.

The four young Riders looked at each other, then reluctantly approached the four senior Riders who were supposed to be their teachers.

"I am Wayne," said one. He was a human with dark hair. "And this is Eleone-" an elf- "Keori-" the human who had been sitting on the floor- "and Noum-" A dwarf.

"Will we be- choosing teachers?" Obec asked. "Must we show off our skills before we choose?" For that was how it worked in Urgal culture.

Eleone laughed. "Not at all, Obec. We've already chosen who we want as apprentice, based on what Arya-elda has told us about all of you."

The four shifted uneasily. So their masters had known about them long ago.

"Rin and Telamon," said Eleone. "You two are my apprentices." Rin had little reaction.

"Melik and Uldr are mine!" Keori said, grinning. A touch of red tinged the dwarf's face.

"Obec and Jekthu are with me," Noum said. The Urgal touched the tip of his horn in respect.

"And that leaves Ayduin and Navi for me," Wayne finished. The elf bowed to him in that peculiar elvish way. "Go to your teachers, all of you."

"Your training on New Vroengard has begun."


A/N: Hey there! I had supposed I'd try writing a non-crossover story… so here it is. As always, reviews are appreciated!