I am deeply sorry for the lack of updates, I've been focussed on schoolwork recently, and been updating my digimon story, but I've returned with a fresh volcano worth of ideas! To those who've stuck with me, enjoy the chapter, and hopefully next update won't be so long in coming!

Chapter 11: Lords of Palancar

The only sound was the slow repetitive sound of Vanir's boots in the soft soil. Dante sat perfectly still, his back against a tree, his legs stretched out before him, his hands behind his back. He tried to ignore Vanir's hawk-like eyes drilling into him as he paced backwards and forwards. He tried not to think about the interrogation he knew was coming, but hadn't received yet. He tried to focus on the scent of pine needles, twirling his knife nervously between his fingers. As usual, they had to stop in the middle of the woods. It was only a thirty minute walk to Carvahall and a warm bed, but instead they had to rest their laurels where their only companions were the rocks and the prying eyes of all the creatures that wanted to devour them as a snack. Vanir stopped abruptly, turning to face me.

"Let me just make sense of the situation. You two were attacked by bandits who tricked you into thinking they were merchants. You were rescued by the Shade, only to find that it was because you were her actual prey. The mechanical creature, an artificial golem of some sort perhaps, began to attack, even as I intervened and knocked you out of the sky. For some reason or another, the Shade saved you from the fall, even as Draco was knocked unconscious. We could not pursue you for fear of the golem, and I could not communicate with you or scry you through conventional means due to an array of complex charms.

"You claim that you were in a cave higher up within the Spine. The Shade did not harm you in any way. In fact, she even healed all your serious injuries, going as far as to regenerate your destroyed hand. After that, you simply . . . talked the night away. . . ."

"Yeah, she seemed really calm compared to all of our other past encounters."

"Do you have any idea why she might have spared you? Because with everything I know of Shades, you should not be alive right now. Humanity may have forgotten, but the overwhelming power of Durza, the one who commanded the Urgals, can still be remembered in my memory as I was told reports of entire legions slaughtered by his hands. Elven warriors, experienced ones. They know nothing of mercy."

"Look, I'm not entirely sure either. Even Ira was confused about it, but it may have been. . . ."

"Ira?" Vanir questioned.

"Yeah, Ira's the Shade's name. She told it to me before she left."

"She told you her name?!" Dante stepped back nervously, shocked at Vanir's sudden outburst. His eyes were stretched wider than dishpans in alarm, a thin, almost invisible film of sweat dribbling down his face.

"Y-yeah, that's her name," Dante stuttered, at a loss for words. Vanir shook his head, leaning against a large tree.

"This is ridiculous. I can't even bring myself to believe you anymore. Shades don't tell people their names, ever. If someone does learn their name, it is likely an alias that they gave themselves or was added to them by those who observed them. Even today, Durza's actual name remains a mystery known perhaps only by the Dragon Riders. If she told you her name. . . ."

"It could be because she was missing a spirit," Dante suggested. "She said that when she regenerated, she had lost her most powerful spirit and it was affecting her strength and personality. She asked me to go find and capture the spirit for her again, so that might have been why she didn't just outright kill me on the spot." Vanir looked to his feet, his composure slowly returning to normal, his chest still rising and falling rapidly as he ruminated over the information.

"She's weakened and no longer a threat, but that won't be for long. This would be the perfect time to eliminate her before she becomes a problem. . . . Dante, she appears to trust you for whatever reason. Use that to your advantage. The next time you meet her, when her guard is lowered, destroy her." Dante jerked upright in alarm.

"What? No!" he exclaimed. "Why would I do that? I might have been a crook, but I'm not exactly an assassin. For a start, I use a loud, very faulty pistol to kill people, not exactly stealthy. Secondly, I have no reason to kill her! I have no reason to trust her either, but it looks like without that spirit, she really doesn't feel like randomly killing people!"

Maybe that's simply the case with you, a low rumbling voice said, the tone of his voice rumbling through his head. Dante looked towards the sky, already knowing what to expect. A long, slender shadow was gliding between the gaps in the trees, its wings outstretched even wider than its actual length, from snout to tail tip. The emerald haze it cast as it briefly flew past him was enough to tell Dante that it could only be Draco. Within the next few moments, the full weight of a dragon landed in the grass, steam flaring from its nostrils. But think of it Dante, he said, glaring at him in the eyes. Do you truly think that she won't go and kill any others once you leave her alone? She had no trouble dispatching those bandit guards that were after you. Her moral compass is obviously still askew.

"I know, she's not exactly a good person, and she's still going to cause problems, but you didn't see her on that night. She looked totally drained. I know liars when I see them, I'm pretty good at the art myself, but it didn't look like she had the energy to lie about her intentions. Murder is not on her agenda."

"But she still has killed several," Vanir pointed out. "At this point, who knows how many lives the Shade has ended at this point? Doesn't she still have to answer for those crimes? Being a Shade in the first place, there will still be several who shall be after her head. People trying to protect the peace from future threats, or even paid help just doing their jobs. She will invariably kill them to. What then? What would you say to the families of the deceased, knowing full well that you could have stopped the Shade and saved the deceased? What would you say to those who have lost children, fathers, brothers and husbands?" Dante scratched the back of his leg with his other toe, looking away in discomfort. Even he had to admit, they had a good point, but something about it all didn't sit easily in his stomach.

"I get it, you have good points, I can see where you're coming from, but I only kill people if they're in the way of my own goals. Yeah, sounds selfish, I know, but I don't really care what happens to any others that try and fight her. Who told them to try and fight a Shade? I only kill people who are in the way of my thievery or who are trying to kill me, and since Lyn would sooner shoot me than see me a pirate again, I guess that just means I kill to survive. She's not in the way of my survival so I won't go out of the way to kill her."

That's foolishness! Draco roared. Maybe not now, but what shall you do when she is? How shall you, who is weak, battle her, who is strong? Vanir shook his head, turning so his back was facing Dante.

"I'm surprised. I didn't think you'd be the type of person who would leave yourself exposed like that. I suppose I'll have to do it myself then, but this would be much quicker if you accepted to destroy the Shade yourself."

"Do what you want, just don't get me involved unless it involves some kind of cash reward at least."

"Dante!" The high pitched voice cut in just in time to save him from the conversation. Lyn emerged from the overgrowth to his left, a thick pouch bulging with odd ingredients within it bulging by her side. "Help me out collecting these herbs. If any of us end up in condition like yours, we're going to need these."

"Drop it for now," Vanir said. "We'll just get resources in town. I have business to take care of in town as well. Lyn, Dante, I would like you two to accompany me. As Lyn is going to join the ranks of the Dragon Riders, it is imperative that she acquaints herself with the nobility." Lyn froze on the spot, the blood draining from her face.

"W-wait, nobility?" she asked nervously. "You're not seriously going to make me meet any nobles are you? I mean, they're rich fancy folk and all, with all their posh manners and fancy jewellery, I can't exactly talk to them wearing leather armour with a bow strapped around my chest, they'll think I come from the middle of nowhere, and they would be right to!"

"You'll be fine, don't worry," Vanir assured her, patting her roughly on the shoulder. "You have far better manners than your brutish gun-wielding friend at least, so that's a start."

"Hey! I take offence to that!" Dante shot back indignantly. "The brutish part at least. I've got far too much intelligence to be called a brute." Vanir set off, heading in the opposite direction.

"If you want to prove me wrong so badly, then hurry up. We should at least arrive at the front gates while there's still daylight."

. . .

"Welcome to Garrow's Keep!" Those were the first words Dante heard as his eyes beheld the fort before him. Large and robust, not overly lavished, armed to the teeth with the two massive guards in shining armour standing guard. Each stone looked tougher than the last, and the two cannons peeking out of the holes in the fort's corners said a lot about its security. Still, it wasn't as uninviting as the men's barracks, clearly belonging to some kind of noble, and it was far larger, situated at the top of a hill, overlooking the village far below, watching over its happenings. A knight looked over the party, his roving eyes hidden behind his steel mask as he scanned them, from Lyn to Dante. "State your names and business."

"Greetings," Vanir said, twisting his hand in front of his sternum in greeting. "This is Gwendolyn, an upcoming trainee in the arcane arts, and this is Dante, a nuisance that we've picked up. We've come to see Lord Bracknell." Dante glared daggers at him, but said nothing else of the topic. "I am known as Vanir, ambassador to the elven race; you should know me well, though I fear I cannot tell who you are beneath your armour." The knight turned to his comrade for confirmation, receiving a cold nod.

"There's no need to hide your purposes, I know you," the other knight said. "So it looks like you've finally gotten a Dragon Rider from the Spine. I thought it would never happen!"

"I can't truly call these children riders just yet," Vanir replied with a smirk. "We may enter?" The knight nodded his head, knocking rhythmically on the enormous oak door behind him. The door looked like it might even have been able to fit the dragons through with a bit of effort, but it would clearly be useless with a fully grown monstrosity. The door groaned open, revealing the main hallway as they entered.

Draco, you can probably come down now, Dante said, stretching his mind towards the sky.

Has Vanir also approved?

No, but the door's large. It'll be fine, just come on! Draco seemed to grudgingly acknowledge the request, and barely a few moments had passed before a large green mass crashed into the floor just outside the door. Both guards yelped, one of them falling flat on his back from the force of the landing while the other hastily drew his weapon, his longsword's tip pointed dangerously at Draco. Draco growled, steam coming from his nostrils. Vanir wheeled around, his brain immediately piecing together what had happened as he darted between the knight and Draco, his arms spread out to his sides.

"Calm yourself, the both of you!" Vanir yelled. "Good sir, this dragon is not wild, he is in fact our companion, you need not be alarmed! And you Draco, please inform us whenever you choose to drop by, humans are not as accustomed to dragons as us, or even as elves, you may scare them into doing something hasty!" Draco glared at Dante, blowing out more puffs of smoke.

"Hehe, that's my fault," Dante nervously admitted. "I called him down. They knew we were riders, so I thought it wouldn't be a problem to bring him down. I guess I was wrong..."

"Dante, what would you do if I randomly summoned a gigantic demon or some unknown spirit in front of you right now? Logically you should know that I can control it, or slay it with little more than a thought if need be, but your immediate reaction would be to go for your gun would it not? Perhaps fire a few bullets before you realize your mistake?"

"I suppose you're right. . . ."

"Exercise more caution! You are in royal territory, behave accordingly!" Vanir apologised to the startled guards, trying to survive the tides of angry words from them as he explained there were actually two dragons, and that the second one would likely soon follow. As soon as Vanir passed, Dante heard a barely concealed snicker. He didn't even have to look to guess that it was from Lyn, so he simply ignored it, following after Vanir.

The interior of the castle was more along the lines of what Dante had expected. The floor was all carpeted by an expensive looking foreign maroon rug, a purple carpet from the door leading up to the throne situated at the end of the hall. Two massive pairs of stairs were at either side of the room, leading up to various rooms and chambers above. While lining the walls were various assortments of gems, jewels, and most prominently, weapons, it still felt like the castle was lacking something that all royal households had to have in order to feel complete. Seated in the throne at the opposite end of the hall was a giant of a man. His features were dark, and in few ways friendly, his eyes sunken in, bags beneath them, his black hair slicked neatly back and out of the way of his face, his jaw line strong and tough. The width of his shoulders at least tripled that of Vanir's, and the fist that he was resting his head on, almost in a combination of exhaustion and annoyance, looked larger than Dante's head. With just one glance at him, Dante could already tell that this wasn't the pampered royalty that lived in the commercial towns and cities, this was a man with iron flowing through his veins.

"Lord Bracknell. It has been a while," Vanir said.

"Vanir. Either you've been very busy since we last met, or you actually found somebody who could crack that egg of yours. Which is it?"

"Why is everybody always so sceptical about me finding riders?" Vanir asked in exasperation. "Aren't the two dragons behind me proof enough?"

"Please, those could be any dragons! Last I remember, you only had one egg anyway! Where did the second one come from? Don't tell me you stole one from some poor mother somewhere out in the wild! I'm amazed you're still intact if that's the case! Taking an egg from beneath one very angry, very protective lizard . . . that takes stones my friend!" Dante couldn't even believe his own eyes. Formality seemed to have been tossed out of the window in mere seconds, and the face that looked as hard as stone had transformed, his lips spread into a jovial smile. Even more alarming was the sound coming from Vanir. Dante looked towards Lyn, her own face mirroring his shocked expression. Was it... laughter?

"I'm no thief Bracknell! Draco has joined our group of his own free will, with some urging from the nuisance I've been forced to babysit, but I suppose I can hardly trust a child with a dragon on their own, so this is better. Well? Introduce yourselves, children!" They were both thrust forward rather forcefully. Dante stared up into Lord Bracknell's intimidating eyes, the shadow he cast even while sitting down enough to zip his mouth shut. Lyn was going through the same thing, her mouth opening and closing foolishly, no sound coming from her lips.

"Umm . . . nice to meet you," she finally stuttered. "My name is Gwendolyn. This is my partner, Spyro." She gestured at Spyro, the dragon yawning as if only barely entertained, her mouth stretching wide open. "Umm . . . we're trying to become Dragon Riders, and Vanir's escorting us, and teaching us all the basics so we won't die or anything . . . and that's it I suppose." She tried curtsying, only to realise that wouldn't work properly without a skirt, awkwardly transforming it into a bow.

"Uh, right. I'm Dante," Dante piped up, immediately judging how little this guy cared about formalities. "This green and scaly guy over here is Draco. I'm not like Lyn. I'm not really a paired Rider like she is, but Draco and I are friends, and there aren't many places for a boy and a dragon to really fit in, so this group works."

"Like I said, he's a nuisance," Vanir added. Lord Bracknell stroked the goatee he was sporting between his fingers, looking them over as if assessing them.

"Interesting little pups you have here," he finally declared. "You might be able to make something g of them yet! But they still need to put on a bit more meat. What have you been feeding them, sticks and stones with all the stones taken out?"

"Something along those lines," Dante mumbled under his breath. Bracknell laughed heartily, his voice like stones rolling across gravel.

"I like this child!" Bracknell laughed. "He's got a sharp tongue!"

"Believe me, that's all that's sharp about him!" Lyn added snidely.

"Really? I'd expect one who could so much as think of such words when regarding Vanir would have the mettle to back them up! Believe me when I say that there is no man that can best him with a blade, it's not worth the risk of flapping your gums just to lose them!"

"No man indeed, save perhaps yourself," Vanir said with a warm smile, his eyes glazing over as he was lost to a memory.

"Maybe long ago, but while you simply hone your skills, I lose mine. The pains of age for humanity. . . . I bet you don't want to hear my ramblings however. Go, make yourselves comfortable. You must have travelled a long way from your weary looks. You need rest, before you end up collapsing on my floor!" A short figure approached the group, seemingly spawning from thin air itself, silver hair covering his eyes, dressed in a smart turquoise tunic, a servant perhaps.

"W-where did you come from?" Dante asked in shock.

"I've been here the whole time, obviously," the man replied. "Now this way please, let me show you up to your rooms. We don't have any accommodations for the dragons, but I assure you, there shall be arrangements made for them shortly."

. . .

The room wasn't as over furbished as Dante had been expecting, but he wasn't really royalty, so he should have at least been grateful for it. After all, it was far better than the cabins he'd been used to, or the great outdoors he'd been forced to get used to. The mattress was large, large enough for two people, with purple sheets covering them. A wooden chest of drawers complete with a bedside mirror was at one end of the room, the bottom drawer being jammed stuck and unusable. Opposite the drawers was a window with moth-eaten curtains that must have been beautiful originally judging by the pattern on them. There wasn't much else inside but a door that lead to the washroom. It was a practical room, filled with only the essentials. No odd smells or unnatural stains, nor rickety floor panels or leaking ceilings. It was all perfectly maintained.

Dante sat down on the bed, dropping his pack on it as well. He sighed as it flopped onto the bed, very little spilling out of it but a half eaten loaf of bread, some coins, a pair of gloves and a shard of Draco's shell he couldn't bring himself to throw away. Nothing worth much of anything. He hadn't seen his lute in a while either. He'd given it to Vanir, but ever since then it seemed to have just disappeared from existence. Vanir had probably sold it, but it was still a shame. He could have tried teaching himself to play it instead of just going to sleep instantly. Not much he could do about it though. He lay back on his bed, only just realising how heavy his limbs felt.

Wow, the exhaustion is actually starting to get to me isn't it?

But of course, Draco thought back in reply. You are only human. There's a limit to your strength.

You talk like you dragons are made of steel or something. All of a sudden, a third, followed by a fourth stream of thoughts joined the conversation.

Don't compare us to such a frail material, Spyro laughed. Our scales are harder, and far more beautiful than any human made materials!

Don't get cocky, Lyn warned. Steel can still cut through you with no problem as long as the blacksmith and the wielder knew what they were doing.

Lyn? Spyro? Dante questioned in surprise. Warn me next time you're going to join the conversation. . . .

Now where would the fun be in that? Lyn teased. In any case, you should get your rest now. We're going to be spending the night here, and that includes dinner.

Free dinner is never a bad thing! Dante yelled excitedly, the thoughts of food already spreading to the rest of the people connected to him.

Indeed, Draco agreed. However, I doubt that they have enough to feed my appetite. They are royalty though. I wouldn't put it past them.

Well dinner will be rather awkward if we turned up in leather armour and torn clothes now wouldn't it? There are clothes in the drawers that would do a lot better than wearing what you've got now.

Noted. Later then. He cut off the connection. He stared at his bed, then at the drawers, battling with himself whether he had the energy to change right there or if he should succumb to his exhaustion. He gave up to the latter, collapsing on his bed. After all, it would only be a few minutes then he'd be up and running. Just a few . . . minutes. . . .

. . .

A sharp knocking on the door awoke him from his slumber.

"Dante, its Lyn," a voice said from the other side of the door. "Let me in." Dante stood back up with a groan, heading for the door. Sure enough, Lyn was waiting for him, though not in anything that he was expecting.

Instead of her normal leather hunting gear, she was dressed in a plain green blouse, a faded floral pattern dyed into it, a brown knee-length skirt over a pair of brown leggings. Her hair was tied up behind her, the usual loose strands finally tamed. She looked at her brown cowhide slippers in embarrassment. "Yes, I know, I look weird in this stuff, no need to point it out. . . ."

"I didn't, and it's not like it's very fancy anyway," Dante commented with a sly smile. "You actually look more like your sister in that outfit."

"I do not! Ugh, and here I thought that you'd be more civil in a royals keep! I guess I was wrong."

"Why would I change in here? These were the same kind of places I used to steal from, a few knights in shining armour aren't going to faze me!"

"I should have figured as much. And why aren't you changed already? It's been hours already!"

"Really? I thought I was only out for a few moments. Well, I guess it doesn't matter too much."

"Yes, it does matter! You should at least be a little freshened up if you're going to meet royalty!"

"Fine, fine, just give me a second to get ready." He shut the door before Lyn could say anymore, heading for the washroom. After about ten minutes of just scrubbing himself down, he rummaged through the chest of drawers, yanking out a purple and white striped shirt, much like his own, although with a gold trim around the neckline and with no holes in it. He picked out a pair of brown leather trousers, tightening his belt over it and stuck with his pair of slippers for footwear. As soon as he stepped outside, Lyn gave him a sceptical look.

"You don't really look much different," she pointed out.

"No bandana, obvious!" he rebuked, pointing at his head. Indeed, his bandana was no longer wrapped around his head. Instead, his hair, now grown quite a bit over their travels was now like a tiny, well cared for shrub, with a strange tortoise shell comb with long teeth stuck firmly inside it. Lyn stared at the comb questioningly.

"So you've got no bandana, but you have a very unusual looking comb in your hair instead. . . ."

"It's not unusual! It's an afro comb! You probably don't see them as much since there aren't many people with hair like mine on the mainland, but it's perfect for taking care of hair like this!" Lyn shook her head as she walked on, trying her best to ignore Dante as he delicately tended to his haircut.

"If it helps you, then I suppose I'll just have to deal with it. Come on, let's go. We're probably already late for dinner."

It didn't take too long for them to arrive at the banquet hall. As expected, the enormous table was already full of a huge assortment of food, ranging from rare meats and exotic birds to fruits and vegetables from all corners of The Spine's lower regions. The room looked large enough to fit at least fifty people with easy, and at the other end of the door, opposite the dining table was what appeared to be a small stage, perhaps for entertainment of some sort. What was unexpected were the enormous hunks of meat piled on top of two large round shields by the side of the room. Spyro and Draco were already happily devouring their meals, tearing through hunks of flesh in seconds. Vanir was already seated by the side closest to them, with Lord Bracknell at the head of the table.

"Ah, our guests of honour have arrived!" he exclaimed, gesturing for them to come towards the table. "Come on, take a seat, enjoy all that my castle has to offer!" They took a seat opposite Vanir. Dante couldn't help but notice the mountain of salad piled high on his plate, mushrooms surrounding the grotesquely green dish. Repulsed, he simply went for the nearest steak, stabbing it with his fork and carrying it to his plate. "So, entertain me! Enlighten me about all of your travels!" Dante and Lyn looked towards each other, then at Vanir who didn't seem to be paying them any mind, simply sipping from a glass of water. Taking it in turns, they began to relate their travels, starting from when they first met. Dante was sure to omit anything regarding his past, but left nothing to the imagination when it came to their battles, while Lyn corrected his poor recall when it came to the finer points of their journey. Bracknell leaned in closer with each word that they muttered, soaking in the story like a sponge absorbing water.

"Brother, why didn't you tell me we had guests?!" a harsh voice exclaimed in anger, interrupting there speech. Bracknell turned to the source of the voice, turning directly behind the chair. Standing in the hallway was a tall youth, much younger looking than the intimidating Lord Bracknell, albeit still quite similar. Deep blue eyes glared at them from a face that may as well have been made of iron, his steely gaze looking over the new guests.

Even beneath his royal looking clothes, the build of a bodybuilder could still be made out. He was dressed similarly to Lord Bracknell, in a deep blue tunic with gold and silver trims, and a blue and red flowing cape attached to the polished bronze shoulder pads he wore, flowing down to just below his waist. The plates of armour were what were surprising. There weren't just the shoulder pads: metal studded gloves, metal grieves complete with knee braces, it wasn't heavy armour, nor a lot of it, but it was enough to leave an impression.

He looks capable, Spryo pointed out. Or at least more capable than Dante. Draco grunted in agreement before returning to his meal with more gusto.

Don't even start! Dante yelled back. Well, I guess it doesn't matter. I'd never even dream of challenging somebody like him.

"Ah, Raidran, so good of you to join us!" Bracnkell exclaimed. "I would've told you, but I was sure that you'd throw a tantrum if I disturbed your sleep."

"So if I hadn't woken up, you would've let me sleep through dinner as well?"

"As if you of all people could resist a good meal! Now come, join us at the table!" Raidran grumbled under his breath as he took a seat by Vanir's side, not even casting a second glance at the two dragons. He silently grabbed the largest slice of beef he could wrap his hand around and began tearing through it. "You'll have to forgive my younger brother, he isn't exactly the most sociable type. Ah yes, I haven't introduced you all! Raid, our two guests opposite you are Dante and Lyn, both trainee dragon riders, and the one by your side is Vanir, a very old family friend. Even older than myself! Dante, Lyn, this young man here is Raidran, my younger brother, and unless I can find myself a wife, a punishment I don't plan on going through for that matter, he shall be the next in line to the Stronghammer line here in Carvahall!" Raidran flinched at the name of his lineage, but carried on eating, just as dismissively as before. "He's . . . not very good at dealing with people. He was a rather sheltered child growing up."

"Shut up!" Raidran snapped, glaring at his elder brother.

"Easy there Raid, they're friends! They won't laugh at you if I don't say anything that deserves it! Now please, guests, carry on!" Raid returned to his meal, a sullen expression on his face.

It doesn't look like Bracknell is very good with kids, Dante thought, mentally projecting his thoughts towards Lyn.

Not in the slightest. Lyn replied. She continued with the tale, relating their encounter with the Shade, their 'daring exploits' invading the port for the flying ships, and finally stopping when they encountered the metal siege weapon. Bracknell listened with growing interest until finally Lyn went silent. Bracknell laughed heartily, slapping his thigh in amusement.

"Gwahaha!" he laughed. "What a tale! Your words are as hard to believe as a youngster slaying a full grown dragon!"

"Although I can assure you, it is just as they said, albeit with some exaggeration," Vanir said. "Surely you've heard reports of the Shade by now?"

"In fact, I actually have. It worries me." Bracknell's previously jovial attitude immediately turned to ice, his eyes focused ahead of him, as if at some vision. He clasped his hands together as he leaned on the table, his breathing becoming heavy. "A Shade hasn't been seen in over two hundred years. The people aren't prepared to deal with it. While it reigns free in Palancar Valley, it is my problem to deal with, but if I try and send bounty hunters to try and kill it, our casualties will be far too high. Even so, sightings of it are rare. . . ."

"Then I'll hunt it," Raid spoke up.

"Don't be foolish! It would tear you apart!" Bracknell snapped back.

"No, it wouldn't. Not if I'm stronger than it, and I've done nothing but train my whole life. I'm more than capable of defeating a Shade or two."

"Bold words, for a human," Vanir said with a smug smirk. "Arrogant to. Arrogance is the death of many, heroes and villains alike. If you've read your books, you would know that's the same arrogance that undid the Dragon King and the Mad King, Galbatorix and Palancar."

"It's not blind arrogance! It's skill that you of all people have seen, brother! I'll go with an escort of armed soldiers, mercenaries, knights, whatever it takes, and heavily armed, just to make sure. Upon its next sighting, I'll defeat it!"

"Her," Dante uttered.

"Excuse me?"

"Defeat her, and that's not possible. Ira is a monster, you'd be slain on the spot. I've seen her at work, I've seen her tear through men as if they were paper, and fling dragons like rocks. Heck, I've taken a few good shots from her, and I can tell you, it's not worth chasing after her. That's like chasing after your own death." Raidran stood up, a vein pulsing in his forehead, his jaw clenched tight.

"And who are you to judge what I can and cannot do? A hero? A brave and noble warrior?"

"I'm just a simple sailor, but I've seen and travelled with all kinds of people, enough to be able to tell how strong someone is. You're strong, much stronger than me, but it's still not even close to her."

"Oh yeah? You fought the Shade twice now, and both times you lost, even when you had dragons. If I can defeat you, then maybe then I'll be strong enough to beat it!" Dante's eyes widened in shock.

"Wait, me?! Wait, that's not what I was trying to say! I'm the weakest of my group, fighting me just plain isn't fair, maybe you should fight Vanir, or Draco, right?"

"I don't fight children," Vanir objected.

I may kill him, Draco added.

"Lies Vanir! You beat up me and Lyn all the time during practice! Then . . . spar with Lyn! She's accomplished in the art of lopping arms off!"

"Since when have I ever done such a thing?" Lyn shouted. "This is your fight Dante, you have to carry it out."

"Are you crazy?! I'm not a swordfighter, there's no way I'd win!" Bracnkell burst into raucous laughter yet again.

"Interesting. . . . A duel eh? This may be fun to watch! The one who can challenges Shades against Iron-arm Raidran, I wonder who will come up on top?" Dante sent a pleading look towards Vanir, but he simply took a sip from a silver chalice, ignoring him altogether. Dante gulped as he stood up, his knees shaking. He was used to sudden danger, but not to duels and formal battles like this. Raidran glared at him as they walked towards the stage, constantly clenching and unclenching his fists. A servant appeared, carrying a large rack of weapons, fake swords and shields of varying sizes lined up on it. They were only practice swords, dummy weapons, they had to be blunt, but that didn't make them any less intimidating when you knew that your opponent was twice your size. Raidran grabbed the largest sword he could find, testing its weight before hefting it over his shoulder. A claymore almost as long as Dante was tall, looking fit enough to fell dragons. Dante grabbed a regular short sword, swinging it a few times as he tested his grip, and picked out a small round buckler. Defence, that was all he needed. If he could just dodge and block enough shots, he might actually stand a chance at surviving.

The two made it to the stage, the smell of the food at the dinner table distracting Dante's senses. Raidran swung his sword around his head before gripping it with both hands again.

"Be careful there Raid," Bracknell warned him. "It might just be a practice sword, but it can still break bones if you're not careful!"

"Noted," Raid replied unconvincingly. It didn't even look like he'd noticed the comment, instead crouching slightly, getting ready to fight. Dante, still a rookie when it came to the sword, clumsily lifted his buckler in front of his face. Sure, he'd been in several life-or-death situations, but he'd always had his pistol with him, and his never treacherous dagger for support. It didn't feel quite the same without them. He glanced at the audience nervously. Bracknell had an enormous grin plastered to his face, while Vanir was as emotionless as ever. Spyro looked like she was falling asleep, her girth rising and falling slowly. Draco was looking away nonchalantly, but Dante could feel a slight trickle of worry coming from him. He focused his attention back on his opponent.

"Combatants, ready your arms!" Bracknell called out. "Begin!" Almost before the words had even left his mouth, Raidran was already speeding towards Dante, his sword crashing down like thunder. Just in time, Dante raised his shield, the impact making his whole body ring. Now within range, he swung his blade, but even before he could make the movement, Raidran had leaped backwards. Dante gritted his teeth in frustration, thrusting sharply with his sword. The blow was deflected with ease, forcing Dante to stumble forward. Raid raised his sword above his head before swinging it down on Dante's back. Through a stroke of luck, the blade just barely missed as he fell to the ground, just ahead of the sword. Dante rolled back onto his feet, holding his blade up defensively. Just a moment too slow, Raidran smacked Dante's wrist with the flat of his blade, the pain spreading through his whole arm. Dante barely had the time to drop his sword and cry 'I surrender' before Raidran's sword was pointed threateningly at his throat.

"Are you making fun of me?!" Raidran roared angrily.

"Hey, of course not! Why would I?"

"Then why are you trying to make a fool out of me? First you tell me that I'm weak, talking so big like you're some kind of champion, then you don't even try when fighting me! Are you trying to say I'm not worth your energy? If you think that, then I can gut you right here with this sword, blunt or not, and then we'll see if I'm worth the time!"

"I'm not going easy on you, honest! I never called you weak either! I just said that you can't match up to a shade yet! I'm no better, in fact, every time that I've survived has either been some serious luck, or getting saved by Vanir!"

"The way you told the tale you put up much more of a fight against the Shade than you did with me!"

"Yeah, but back then I had a gun and my dagger, I'm still rubbish with a sword."

"Bah! You're all talk! Your judgement is no longer credible in my eyes! I don't care what you say, I'm going after that shade if it kills me!"

"It really will! I've warned you!" Raidran turned with a flourish of his cape and stormed off of the stage and out of the dining hall, slamming the door in the process. Bracknell sighed in exhaustion.

"I'm sorry about Raidran," Bracknell apologised. "He's very sensitive about his skills, and as I've already said. . . ."

"He's a little bit anti-social?" Lyn suggested.

"Perfectly put. Well, don't let him dampen the mood! Feast now and enjoy what we have to offer! When you're travelling, who knows when you'll have warm food and a blanket? I shall see to it that when you set out you are properly supplied, so there's no need to worry about provisions!" Dante returned to his seat, glumly chewing on a stick of celery as he tried to ignore how swift his defeat was.

You need much more training, Vanir pointed out to him.

I know, Dante replied, already imagining the horrors that Vanir would put him through.

I can't have one of my pupils losing to a noble.

I get it, my sword arm is still sloppy, my balance is off- Dante stopped mid-thought even as Vanir cut off their connection. It was the first time that Vanir had acknowledged him as one of his pupils.

. . .

The castle was dim. The darkness of night crept through the castle halls, shadows stretching from hall to hall as thin beams of moonlight shone through the stained glass windows. Only the owls and the rats were awake to hear the scratching of Bracknell's quill against parchment. On the second floor, behind the largest bedchambers was a single study, bookshelves stacked to the brim with ancient texts, ambiguous scrolls and contemporary novels alike. Barely a sliver of the wall was visible behind the various books, and even the only window had various bits of parchment stacked on top of each other. Bracnkell sat alone at the end of the room, seated by a large oak desk, pots of ink stacked to his left, a long golden quill in his left hand, darting across the crumpled up parchment before him. The smell of the coffee scented paper was distracting enough already, and it didn't help that his veins felt like they were filled with lead, slow and heavy, unresponsive to what he wanted. He swore loudly as he knocked over an ink pot, the ink spilling all over the parchment. He quickly yanked it away, holding it up in the air as he tried fanning out all of the ink, but it was already too late. The damage had been done. He let out a deep breath, dropping the parchment in a small basket to his right. It was already filled with torn, shredded and crumpled notes and letters, all addressed to various noble and complex sounding families and houses. He rested his face in his hands, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

"Do you need help, old friend?" Vanir asked, his voice cutting through the darkness like a knife. Bracnkell out a breath of relief as he turned to face his age-old friend, even if all he could see of him was his silhouette.

"Vanir! So good of you to come," he croaked, his throat still unused to speaking. "I've never been one who's good at formal letters. The last time I wrote one and I nearly had the entire kingdom come crashing down on our heads!"

"So why write one now when you could just get a scribe to do it?"

"It's not that simple, this isn't a letter I can have just anybody write. . . ." He frowned at his desk, now free of all letters.

"A letter to the Riders?" Vanir guessed. "If you wanted to send them a message, you could have always relayed it through me, I am their envoy after all, it only makes sense. I could have even opened up a scrying portal for you to talk with them directly."

"I'm not going to use a scrying portal. In this day and age, an accomplished mage can intercept anything that isn't going to Du Weldenvarden, and it won't matter if I tell you the message or not. You already know what I'm going to say. After all, you're the one who's going to be delivering it!" If Vanir looked surprised, Bracnkell couldn't tell in the darkness, but who wouldn't count on it. Elves had a poker face that would make the most accomplished gamblers look down in shame.

"Me? That sounds like a very roundabout way of doing things, it would be easier to send the message to my fellow elves and have them deliver it to the Riders headquarters."

"Indeed, that would be ideal, but with my comparatively low status, I doubt that they would truly notice me unless it was coming from your own hands or mouth. My family history is not one of noble nor glorious blood."

"That alone isn't true. You're descended from a dear friend of the elves, ever since the days of the Dragon King, Galbatorix, and in recent years you have even gained control over almost all of the Spine."

"A conquest that was paved with blood and thunder, hardly a fitting past for Stronghammer's family. I'm not proud of the deeds of my father, or his father before him. I simply wish to keep my home and my people safe, and that involves relating everything I know of the 'Iron Dragons'. Speaking of its contents across a scrying mirror is hardly as effective as reading it yourself. You're the only one who can get this to the Elves, and in turn to the Riders. You're the only one who I trust with this task."

"Now I understand. Not just the Riders either, but the Dwarves and the Urgals to, I must join all of the races shouldn't I?"

"Not yet, now is not the time. We still don't know where the Iron Dragon threat is truly coming from. It could be humans at fault, but it may also be a threat spawned from the depths of the Beor mountains. It's a complicated issue. For now, the only ones I want to know about my knowledge are the Riders. They aren't as involved in our politics. They are the ones who can help us. I'm trusting you with this mission Vanir."

"Don't worry, I can't possibly fail. All I have to do is deliver a letter, correct? There won't be an issue, and if there is, I'll get rid of it." Bracknell laughed, the desk rumbling slightly from the sound.

"Oh, cocky one aren't you? For an elf, you sure are confident of your abilities! I guess that will never change about you!"

"Five hundred years of experience, nothing scares me anymore."

"Well, I feel sorry for whoever has to cross blades with you! I'm counting on you, Vanir."

"I'm grateful, truly I am, but don't you have to finish your letter first before you can start thanking me?" Bracknell turned back to his desk in surprise before glancing back at the basket overflowing with letters.

"Ah yes, you have a sharp eye, don't you Vanir. Well then, would you care to help me craft it?" Vanir simply pulled a seat next to Vanir and sat down on it. The night dragged on as the moon continued its journey through the sky, sailing gracefully over the heads of the two friends as they talked together, whiling the night away. . . .