Hello all. I really have no excuse for how heinously late this chapter is, except that I just failed completely at the first draft. And then I had to rewrite it because I was ashamed of how bad it was. So, I'm genuinely sorry. Clearly deadlines are not a thing that I am ready to handle.

In other, related news, I am starting a new update schedule, which will be: if I have it written by the first of the month, I will post it. We'll see if that works out any better. I also have three more chapters of Dashelgr drafted, but as I said, they are terrible and I would be ashamed to post them, so I am in the middle of rewrites. I will have another chapter ready by June 1st if it kills me, though.

With that said, I hope you enjoy the chapter! I can say with confidence this is the best I have to offer. Please remember that comments and constructive criticism are appreciated, and if you want to complain in the comments about my failure to update, that is totally valid. I hope that everyone still in quarantine is safe and healthy, and that this chapter takes your mind off things, at least for a little while.

"Now that," said Murtagh, emerging from the darkness beyond the firelight, "sounds like something you should let other people tell you."

Blodhgarm shrugged.

"Murtagh," Leah greeted cheerily. "Are you coming over to join our merry band?"

"I came to check on your merry band, per Eragon's request, but I'm happy to join if I'm not interrupting." Murtagh grinned across the fire, clapping Corrin on the shoulder and sitting down beside him. "I admit, I'm pleasantly surprised to find you all in one piece."

"Why does everyone assume we will get in trouble when left alone?" Leah demanded indignantly. "Don't answer that," she added when Blodhgarm went to open his mouth. "It's not like we've ever really, I don't know, set ourselves on fire or anything!"

Varog looked up. "What about-"

"No! Be quiet! We've never actually set ourselves on fire! End of story!"

Everyone laughed. "So," Murtagh said conversationally, "since my expectations of Leah and Thuviel fomenting rebellion have been dashed, what have you all been doing?"

"Whittling," volunteered Corrin, at the same time as Varog said "Talking" and Leah cheerily rattled off "Debating the ethical considerations of Eragon's decisions."

Murtagh squinted at Leah, then glanced back at Corrin and Kiera. "Do I want to ask?"

Blodhgarm sighed and took pity on all of them. "Eragon has denied Shruikan and I our request to start hatching the wild dragon eggs in the Vault for another year."

"Ah," said Murtagh. "I wasn't aware that that was an ethical consideration. I thought it was just a problem of resource management?"

Shruikan rumbled irritably from where he sat, earning a wary look from Murtagh, but Blodhgarm only sat up straighter to talk. Kiera shifted her head so she could see Blodhgarm where he sat near Shruikan. Corrin could tell she was thinking about something, and his private query only gave him the sense that she wasn't yet ready to talk.

"It is partially a resource issue," Blodhgarm explained, "but there are definitely also ethical considerations that need to be addressed. The problem is that if an egg is left under those preservation spells for too long, the mind and body of the hatchling start to warp under the magical and temporal stress. While one or two more years won't make much of a difference, even if we started right now, we couldn't safely hatch all the wild dragon eggs within the next two years. It would cause an environmental catastrophe to release that many dragons into this area at once, with the resources we have. It'll take years for our resources to be able to support such a large number of dragons, even with Dashelgr exponentially increasing the yearly rate of growth, so we'll only be able to add two to three dragons a year for a long, long time. There are one hundred and ninety wild eggs in the Vault at this time; if we say five eggs for every two years, then it will be three quarters of a century before all of those eggs are hatched." The elf made an irritated gesture with both hands. "And that situation gets worse the longer we delay hatching the first wild dragons."

"And we can't assume that we'll be able to add even that much per year, because we don't know how many Shur'tugal will hatch in a certain span of time," Leah added, twirling her whittling knife.

Silence fell into the space left by the end of Blodhgarm's lecture. Murtagh looked thoughtful, but Corrin could feel that Kiera's melancholy had come back at the thought of the unhatched dragons, and the rest of their companions had likewise fallen back into grim contemplation. Corrin, however, leaned forward and brought up something that had occurred to him while Leah spoke. "Hypothetically, we could guarantee how many wild dragons we could hatch if we were willing to hold back the eggs that could potentially choose Riders for that year."

"No," Leah disagreed firmly. "Or, well, we could in theory, but at the same time we couldn't."

On the one hand, Thuviel elaborated, the same problems that Blodhgarm just explained will crop up on a lesser scale. The eggs which are enchanted to choose Riders can hold up slightly better under the stress of a prolonged delay in hatching, but they can still develop problems after a time, and they have already been dormant for a century. Some of us would like to stretch our wings, if you take my meaning.

Leah picked the thread of thought up again. "And, on the other hand, if we stopped sending the eggs to be chosen, for any amount of time, the political situation back in Alagaesia would probably just fall to pieces completely."

"Why?" Corrin asked, baffled.

"Every race still has desperate want of more Riders," Varog explained. "The dwarves still have not seen a single Rider of their own race ever in their history, the elves and my people each have but one, and even the human kingdoms remember times when there were hundreds of their own race among the ranks of the Riders, rather than just four." The Urgal gestured to Leah and Thuviel. "Ask them if you don't believe me. Thuviel's hatching managed to anger pretty much every head of state for precisely those reasons."

"It's true," Leah admitted. "We even started off as rabble-rousers."

Well, do tell, Kiera rumbled, diverted momentarily from whatever was distracting her. I, for one, am curious.

"The root of it is that Eragon was hoping to have the first eggs hatch for one dwarf and one Urgal, so that those races could begin to accept their inclusion in the Pact," Leah explained. " The first 'circuit' that Lady Arya and Firnen took the eggs on was just to Tronjheim and a few other dwarven cities, and then a month later the eggs were presented to the participants in the first Games. I wasn't even a candidate; the only reason that I was in Tronjheim was to accompany Nas- to accompany Queen Nasuada to witness the first presentation of the eggs. Unfortunately, his highness here didn't start to hatch until all the candidates had already gone and we were ending the ceremony, and the end result was that the lot of us noticed his egg moving when it literally rolled off its pedestal and hit the marble floor."

Corrin winced.

I was alright, Thuviel assured him. Dragon eggshell is tough.

"He was fine: everyone else about died of fright. And then, of course, there was no way to figure out who the Rider was except to let the dragonet decide. So, there we were; dignitaries from every race and a rowdy crowd of dwarven subjects, all staring at this tiny hatchling which is wandering through the crowd without a care in the world."

"And eventually he walked up to you?" Corrin asked, smiling.

Leah nodded. "Best disaster to ever happen to me."

Murtagh chuckled. "Disaster?"

"Oh, absolutely" Leah confirmed. "There were several death threats. I'm honestly not sure who was angrier, the dwarf clans or my mother."

Fascinating, Kiera commented. And what's your story, then?

Galzra looked up. Who, me? Nothing so interesting. He was third place axe-throwing champion at the games. I knew as soon as he stepped up to the platform.

"Unlike some people," Varog growled, "I don't have a dramatic streak to interfere with such things."

"You own a knife made of human bone," Corrin said without thinking.

Murtagh made a strangled noise. "What?!"

Varog scowled at Corrin.

Ah, Corrin. He has no filter, but he will learn.

I hope everyone stays safe and stays healthy, and I will be back with a new chapter on June 1st.