January 24th-31st, 4991.
The morning after the "Battle of the Courtyard", I was taking notes on one of my latest experiments, when someone knocked at my door early in the morning.
"Enter." I said. I looked up, and felt a brief flash of anger when I saw it was General Grit, leader of the Royal Guard. It had only been a few days since the "Battle of the Courtyard", and things remained pretty tense throughout the Palace. Grit had apologized, appearing angered to have been tricked by Blister and her minions, being played like a fool in these political machinations when they were supposed to be neutral and apolitical. Despite my frustration over the whole thing, I was not in a position to remain bitter and petty. This whole thing was bigger than any one of us, after all.
"Xero," Grit said as he entered, "You wanted to see me?"
"Yes I did, General. Please, come with me." I gestured for him to follow, and took him to the back of my workshop. Back there, past the forge and workbench and shelves filled with ingredients and scrolls, they stopped before a mannequin covered in armor, and with a set of newly crafted armor, with chain-mail covering the exposed neck and belly.
Grit gazed upon the armor, impressed. "Three Moons," He said, "This is some fine craftsmanship. Did you make this?"
"Indeed I did," I replied, loading a crossbow from the table, "But that's not what makes it so special. Step behind me, please." Wary and respectful of the new weapon, the general complied. I took aim at the chestplate of the armor, and fired.
TWANG! CLANG! The arrow shot true, striking where the heart would be, only to ricochet and clatter harmlessly onto the ground to their right. The armor remained pristine, hardly a scratch where the arrow hit. I reloaded, fired again, this time at the chainmail around the belly. The arrow again hit, this time dangling loosely from the links it caught itself on. Upon further inspection, the mannequin had a small mark where the bolt would pierce the skin, but it was definitely a nonlethal impact.
"Weapons that can kill from a distance," I explained, "Require armor that can hold up against it. It's yours of course, if you can help me with one or two teeny-tiny favors."
Grit sighed. "Of course. No one does anything out of the goodness of their heart."
"Oh please, who do you take me for? Blister?" I teased, smirking knowingly. "I'm not asking you to do anything that you wouldn't be doing anyway. First and foremost, since you're about to raid Scorpion's Den, I think it would be of great benefit to also hit Hawkstone. It IS on the way after all, and Hallowglide is a bandit himself. We can't let the rogues who stole the Eye hide away with the bandits who blackmail guards, can we?"
Grit rubbed his neck instinctively, and coughed. "Makes sense, I suppose. We can... look into that."
"Excellent. Now, as for the second favor, if you... I dunno... just so happen to come across the Eye, I would greatly appreciate it if it were returned to Princess Burn or myself. We are the rightful owners, after all."
Grit shifted. "That's a little presumptuous, don't you think?"
"I don't think so. Especially since, as I recall, You were the reason I lost it." I felt my expression changed ever so slightly, the friendly demeanor almost giving way to cold anger buried within. I leaned in on the general, the crossbow still in my paws. "I found the Eye. I was going to give it to Oasis's preferred heir. I was about to end this whole stupid Crisis as the Seawings fly to our gates. But what happened then, hmm? A bunch of guards confront me in broad daylight, we have a fight in the bloody Courtyard, and a bunch of bandits managed to sneak in and mug me like a common beggar! You Owe Us!"
Grit looked down. I followed his gaze. The side of the bow was poking his chest. I leaned back, pulling the weapon away as I controlled myself. "We can't afford to look weak, General. As long as the bandits continue to raid us unpunished, we will never be truly secure. We need to clean out the Den and it's environs before the Seawings, and we need the Eye back before those thieves decide to sell it off to a foreign invader. Am I making sense here?"
"Yes." Grit stated.
"Alright then!" I perked up, leading the older dragon out. "You go there and round up some criminals, and they'll be a big batch of shiny new armors for you and your troops waiting for you upon your return. If you come across Hallowglide or Nightshade while you're there... well, you don't need me to tell you how to do your job, right? Good day, General."
With that, I ushered Grit out of my quarters, and returned to my work...
The rest of the week went by rather peacefully. After you get mugged once, you learn to appreciate how nice it is not to get your head cracked open and your crap stolen. I don't know if it was because my crossbows had proved themselves as effective fighting tools, or because I personally took out so many Royal Guards, but I was given a lot more respect. Dragons gave me a wide berth as I passed, addressed me as "sir", and warily eyed the crossbow I kept at my side at all times. I'd be damned before I let myself get caught by surprise again.
With the diplomatic situation as precarious as it was, I had to do what I could to turn things around. I knew that Scarlet, despite this recent turn about-face against Burn, was still a dragoness with very basic interests. At the same time, while Queen Moorhen was a neutral party, the Mudwings had their own problems with the Seawings, and the last thing she'd want is for the Kingdom of the Sea to start turning expansionist, with a big, brand new ally to back her up. I didn't have to get both of them to commit soldiers to Burn's side (though doing so would've been nice), but if I could get them to put pressure on Coral and the Seawings, to get her to pull back her support of Blister, that could give us the necessary breathing room to turn things around.
I built more and more of my Xero Crossbows, about two dozen in total. Two shipments of a dozen were sent to the Sky and Mud Kingdoms, each with many arrows and instruction manuals, along with a note. In it, I detail how the weapons handled during the Battle of the Courtyard, and promise to provide more if they supported Burn and the Sand Kingdom against Coral and her "horde of murderous Seawings". After the crates were shipped out, all I could do was wait, and hope things panned out for us...
It was Saturday afternoon, during lunch break, when a wounded Sandwing soldier fluttered and crashed into the Courtyard. The Royal Guard and already left to go clear out Scorpion's Den - and Hawkstone - taking their medics with them, so I was called upon to treat him. He had taken a beating, his scales covered in cuts and bruises, the edge of one wing terribly bitten and thrashed.
"What's your name, bud?" I asked, as started treating his wounds.
"Wadi." He rasped, in between sips of water. "Private Wadi, of the Eastern Army."
"What happened to you, Wadi? Where's the rest of your team? Where's General Caracal?"
"Dead, sir." He said. "They're all dead. The Seawings killed them all."
Wadi then proceeded to tell me what happened when the Eastern Army moved to intercept the Seawings. It seemed like someone must've tipped them off, as they suddenly changed course, as if to avoid them. General Caracal didn't want to give the Seawing commander that chance, and ordered an attack. Moving with the setting sun, the Eastern Army intended to catch them on the Skywing border. However, when they reached that border, marked by a long, narrow river, there were none to be seen. Suspecting that they were hiding in the river itself, Caracal had foolishly ordered his soldiers into the water. This proved to be a horrendous mistake, as the water-breathing Seawings sprung their trap, dragging many of them down into the water and drowning them. By the time Wadi realized what was going on and tried to flee, Caracal had already been cut down, as had nearly every other Sandwing.
They caught him then, interrogated him, beat the crap out of him for knowledge. They might've killed him, had Admiral Tempest - the commander of the Seawing Army - decided not to spare him. But Wadi heard him speak to his lieutenants, as they discussed a message outside his tent. It would seem my attempts at diplomacy had payed off, as Queen Scarlet had announced that she was closing her borders to the Seawings, preventing them from getting reinforcements or supplies. Even better, Queen Moorhen had made a very rare announcement in our favor, saying that Coral's expansionist ways were threatening the balance of power for all of Phyrria.
Thus, Tempest agreed to let Wadi go, in order to send us all an offer of truce. With Coral's permission, there'd be a cessation of hostilities between our two kingdoms, if we extended a formal apology over Ambassador Otion's expulsion, open an investigation over Queen Oasis's body, and (following their incredible victory over the Eastern Army) a quarter of our treasury's revenue for the next decade as reparations. They were asking for a lot, no doubt, but considering our position, would it be wise for Blaze or Sandstorm (or even Burn) to turn it down?
I shouldn't have been surprised, then, that Tanwen had beaten me to the punch. As I went into the throne room, she was already there, proclaiming that she was responsible for "making the Seawings see reason". But of course, Blister was locking in Coral's support, coming across as the "reasonable" Princess who worked to prevent war. I couldn't tell how many dragons were buying it, but just putting it out there weakened our position.
At one point, our eyes met. There was no contempt in her eyes, nor smugness, nor even pity. There was just pure, simple apathy in her gaze. I wasn't a threat to her, hardly even a challenge for her and her Lady. I was just another task on her checklist to complete, and that, dear reader, got under my scales like the worst kind of bloodsucking parasite.
Later that same night, things went from bad, to worse. The Royal Guard came back... what was left of them, anyway. Out of the hundred best soldiers the Sandwings had to offer, only four came back (barring Sandstorm, who had been instructed to remain at the Palace). Their new weapons were missing, their new armor broken and bloodsoaked. Marshal Grit was noticeably absent.
"What happened?" I demanded, getting to speak to them before everyone else. "Where's Grit?" One look into the eyes of the last remaining commander, and I already knew the answer.
"Grit's dead." The lieutenant whimpered. "Hallowglide killed him."
As the soldier explained, the raid on Hawkstone was an unmitigated disaster. Hallowglide wasn't an idle fool, and had spent much of these last couple weeks building defenses. Huge stone walls lined his "manor", much too strong for my crossbows to penetrate. Perhaps feeling overconfident with all my new goodies, Grit decided to break into the mansion and clear it room by room. But as it turns out, crossbows aren't all that effective in close quarters, their range advantage lost and their reload problem magnified. Hallowglide and his drakes slaughtered the Guard, picking them off one by one with stingers and daggers and all manner of booby traps. Even Grit himself fell to the Baron's Blade, his throat slashed and left to bleed out before his captured soldiers. Several of the Guard even defected to Hallowglide's side, trading their honor and vows for gold and the chance to live. The remaining dragons were allowed to go to spread the word that Hawkstone wouldn't be so easily taken, and Hallowglide was not someone to be treated lightly.
That night, sitting alone in my quarters, drinking from a bottle of fermented agave juice, I reevaluated my status within the Palace. We were at war with the Seawings (my fault), lost the Eye of Onyx to a foreign bandit (Nightshade's fault), had one of our armies and our best warriors annihilated by foreign invaders and warlords (kinda my fault?). The Palace was defenseless, the people were PISSED, and I feared that I'd be dragged out of my bed in the middle of the night, with my head on a spike by dawn.
There was no way we could turn this around, not now. Burn was a lost cause, more concerned with killing vermin and torturing prisoners than winning the throne. And for all good times and memories I've had with her, I wasn't going to participate in a suicide pact.
I had to leave the Sand Kingdom.
Condition 'Tallies'
Guard Sandstorm: -8
Princess Blister: -8
Princess Blaze: -10
Wanderer Nightshade: -13
Princess Burn: -14