A single candle guttered on a small, cluttered table, spilling it's light over scraps of ink-smeared and crumpled parchment. Several heavy books, their covers denoting the assorted histories of Endiness, were strewn across the table and stacked in disorderly heaps on the floor, which was, for the record, even more cluttered than the table, if possible. Staring around the room, Orion shook his head, despairing over the mess. He really ought to clean it up, but all that ever did was stir up dust and help him to loose his train of thought. As it was, he was so forgetful that often he would start a sentence and not remember how he was going to finish, giving his speech a curious halting quality. He certainly didn't need any help to forget things. Perhaps it was just a little bit too dusty in here though… Getting to his feet, he picked his way though the litter to the window and pushed it open, letting the cool night air waft into the room. There. Much better.
Orion paused for a moment, staring out over the town. He loved Fletz at night; from his vantage point he could see the twin towers of the castle rising high above the city, twin spires of ivory and silver reaching up to pierce the depths of the night. Below it the city was a sea of soft light, the glow of a thousand muted lanterns coalescing into a dim halo that hung low over the flattened rooftops and touched the lower walls of the palace with a faint golden light.
He heaved a sigh and returned to the creaky wooden stool at his work table, stepping carefully over a heap of discarded pages and notes. For the past several years he had committed all of his efforts to the compilation of a single, all-encompassing volume that would chronicle the assorted histories of Endiness. All of it, not just the recent stuff that the royal historians were producing nowadays. Orion smiled to himself as he pulled a book from where it had been suffocating beneath a sheaf of clean parchment and began to thumb through its age-stained pages. Ever since his youth, he had always been fascinated by the tales of the Dragon Campaign and its more recent, better-documented counterpart, often referred to as simply the Cygnet War. Yet as he had grown older and learned to read, he had found that what little information there was concerning these two events was repetitive and difficult to find.
So it was that in his fifty-second year he finally decided, after years of plowing through what ill-informed texts on the subject he could find in the Tiberioan National Library, that if no one else could be bothered to get the facts straight, then he, at least, would. For the past several years now Orion had traveled across the continent, gathering information from every possible source, although most of what he learned came out of the old lore and legends told to him by ministers or priests.
The fruit of his efforts now lay next to him in an untidy stack on the floor, set apart slightly from the rest of the clutter. Since he couldn't depend on his memory to aid him, he'd been forced to take notes whenever he could manage. They were a messy bit of work, but the information contained within those crackling sheets of parchment was invaluable to his work. Somewhere amid the ink smears and dead-end jots was, he liked to think, the true knowledge of the Dragon Campaign and the Dragoons. He even had some interesting storied of the Black Monster. Collecting all of this had been difficult enough, but, as he had discovered, it hadn't been a candle compared to having to somehow sort this mess into a chronicled order. But now he was nearly finished; he was down to the last few chapters.
Putting aside the book he had been leafing through, he pulled out a blank piece of parchment, dipped his quill into his leaky clay inkpot, and held it posed over the paper. Where had he left off…? Oh yes. The brief histories of the assorted dragoons from both the Dragon Campaign and the Cygnet War. Glancing down at a finished sheet laying on top of a neat stack, he scanned through the names. He had finished his writings on the Dragoons of the Dragon Campaign several nights before; that just left the men and woman from the Cygnet War. Albert, Lavitz, Shana, Meru- he had finished, in fact, all of the histories with the exception of the darkness and fire dragoons.
More shuffling through the mess of papers beside his stool. Finally Orion found the sheet he had been searching for. The parchment was torn in one corner, and at some point or another someone had spilt ale on it, but the scribbled writing was still legible, if just barely. Setting the quill to the parchment, he began to write.
'Of the Dragoons, perhaps the most mysterious character of all was the Dark Dragoon Rose. Undoubtedly named for the young woman who bore the same dragon spirit during the Dragon Campaign, Rose appeared quite suddenly in the records of the royal kingdoms, apparently acting as a mentor and guide to the other dragoons. Little is known about her past or where she originated from, but it is fact that by the time that she entered the conflict she had already mastered her abilities as a dragoon. She is often described as having been tall for a woman with long black hair, dark eyes, carrying a rapier and having a commanding manner. She was killed during the final battle of the conflict, about which little is known.'
Putting his quill back into his inkpot, Orion stretched and yawned, hearing his shoulders creak and crunch with the movement. Somewhere out in the town a clock struck one, the bell's tolling echoing softly through the streets. That late already? Orion wiped his eyes again, and stifled a second yawn. He scanned through the rest of the sheet, but found no other information referring to the Dark Dragoon. Tossing the notes back down onto the floor, he dipped into the stack and pulled out yet another handful of papers. Sorting quickly through them, he selected two sheets, held together at the corner with a dab of blue wax. Breaking them apart, Orion glanced at the contents.
The notes on this page had to do mostly with the Black Monster, although there was a section near the end that concerned his last subject, Dart Feld. Settling himself down, he lifted his pen back out of the pot and began to write, reading from the notes and scribbling down sentences in alternate turns.
'As with in the Dragon Campaign, once again it was the Dragoon of Fire that took charge of the strange group of individuals. Dart Feld was born in the village of Neet in eastern Mille Seseau. The village was later destroyed during an assault from the Black Monster, but Feld was able to escape the inferno by hiding in the forest. He was then taken to the village of Seles in Serdio, where he lived until well into his teens. After living with his adoptive family for some years, he left the quiet village taking with him only a broadsword, in hopes of hunting down and exacting revenge on the creature that had destroyed his home. After criss-crossing the continent several times he eventually returned to Seles, only to find it in flames. Little is known of what happened afterwards, but several weeks later he once again reappeared in Hoax in the company of his childhood friend Shana, and the knight Lavitz Slambert. During their stay, the Sandoras made an assault on the fortress. The details of the battle are not clear, but it is known that near the climax of the battle the Sandora's Giganto appeared, wreaking havoc amongst the already disheartened Serdian troops. It was then that Dart and Sir Lavitz challenged the giant in combat. They fought hard, but eventually the tide turned against them. Then, just as the outcome looked bleak, Dart harnessed the power of his dragoon spirit to become the Dragon Knight of legend.'
Orion paused and dipped his quill deep into the pot, re-reading his work. A little over done, perhaps, but at least he had more information to work with. It was an old story that he had found hidden in a dusty study in a Knighthood outpost in Hoax; apparently, it was an eye-witness account. Quickly he jotted down the brief description he had been given of the man, then turned his eyes back to the paper. Scanning quickly through the remainder of his notes, he frowned. That couldn't be right. According to the sheet, Feld had led the dragoons into the final battle and they had come out victorious, although Rose's life had been lost. After this he was married to Shana, returned to Seles where they lived together until her sudden death by illness several years later. And after that…
Orion flipped the paper over, but there was nothing on the back. Cursing to himself, he re-read the material. When had the dragoon died? He had been able to find the death date of all the other dragoons, more or less. All of the dragoons from the Dragon Campaign had perished during their last stand, although the humans still were victorious. Even the rest of the dragoons from the more recent crisis had their deaths well documented. But as for this one- all records abruptly stopped about eight years after the end of the crisis. That could mean one of two things: that he had died, or that he had simply renounced his identity and returned to his travels.
Frustrated, he set aside the paper on which he had been writing and pulled out a second sheet of parchment, this one also unfinished. The heading to this page was written with a flourish; large, ornately curling letters spelt out 'The Black Monster' with far much more grandeur than should have been associated with that accursed name. Seeking a change of topic, Orion read over his unfinished work once or twice, brow furrowing slightly as he noted not for the first time some of the particulars of the information. For eleven millennia the Black Monster had appeared constantly every 108 years to destroy the Moon Child and whatever else had come into contact with it. Yet abruptly the pattern was broken; eighteen years after the Cygnet War ended the Monster reappeared, taking with it the life of yet another innocent. Since then the Black Monster had reappeared once again every 108 years, and each of his visits spelt certain doom for his targets.
Rubbing his eyes, Orion stared blankly into the shadows of his ill-lit room, trying to pull his thoughts into order. Feld disappears, then ten years later the Black Monster reappears? Absently, he wondered whether the two instances might have been connected in some way. Maybe Feld had caught wind of the Black Monster, and resumed his hunt once more only to be killed when his query turned on him? Or maybe the two events were more intimately connected? Orion sat up abruptly, suddenly feeling quite wide-awake. Maybe there was more to all of this than there appeared to be on the surface? Maybe- what if-
But before he could finish the thought, his musings were loudly interrupted as two stray dogs in the street below broke out into a row, snapping and snarling at one another as each struggled to tear sizeable chunks out of the other's ear and or tail. Staggering over to the window, Orion leaned out and started to bawl curses at the mutts, going so far as to pull his boot off of his foot and hurl it at them. The heavy wooden heel of the boot struck one of the animals sharply in the rear, causing the mutt to flee off into the night, yelping in panic as the other dog followed hot on his heels.
Still muttering absently to himself, Orion reseated himself at the table. Picking up his quill, he prepared to write, but quite suddenly realized that he couldn't remember what he had been thinking. The late hour had caught up with him at last. Disgustedly, Orion tossed his quill back down onto the table. Oh well. Pushing the scattered leaves of parchment into a pile, Orion closed the window and replaced the stopper in his inkpot. With one final glance at his workspace, he blew out the candle and slipped out of the room and into the hall, padding off in the direction of his bedchambers. After all, it couldn't have been that important.
Could it?