'Wait I recognize this place,' thinks Umbrae looking out over the sea of protesters and the line of riot officers between them and the Capitol Building, 'Oh no.'

As he looks around, his eyes fall on a tall man with a beer belly and a southern drawl getting in the face of an officer, "Oh look at you so big and tough. How does it feel to know my tax dollars pay your salary, lieutenant?" the last word is filled with sarcasm

"Step back sir," replies the officer.

"What are you going to do?" he asks, "Shoot me? You wouldn't dare."

At the officer's stoic silence he starts again, "Lets see about that," he pretends to reach for his gun not noticing the terrified young recruit standing next to the lieutenant who reacts. A gunshot rings across the gathering as the recruit lets a solitary round leave the barrel of his pistol and the loudmouth drops like a brick.

In the following silence you can hear a pin drop only broken by the lieutenant who turns to the recruit, "What have you done!"

"H-he was going to shoot!" calls the rattled recruit.

"He was just a drunken loudmouth wanting to get a rise out of me!"

While the recruit is gaping in stunned silence someone calls from nearby, "They shot Jebidiah! Get 'em!"

With a shout the armed men draw their own guns and fire at the officers, bullets filling the air as the police retaliate.

"Get the unarmed people to safety!" calls Justin, Umbrae's best friend and the leader of the protest.

"No!" calls Umbrae as if automatically, "I can fight!"

"You don't have a gun!" replies Justin.

Umbrae picks a gun up from a nearby corpse, "Now I do!"

"No, go! Get them to safety. I'll hold them off. I promise I'll see you again."

Once the unarmed persons are safe, Umbrae returns to help. Only to find a street soaked with blood and littered with corpses. And Justin, barely alive and riddled with bullet holes.

"I should have stayed."

"Are the others safe?" whispers Justin through blood soaked lips.

"Yes they are safe and unharmed," reports Umbrae attempting to lift Justin, "Get up we can get you some help."

"No," he coughs blood staining Umbrae's clothes, "I'm too far gone just promise me one thing."

"Yes, anything!"

"Do anything to carry on the fight, start a war if you must, just remember they shot first," with that sentence the light leaves his eyes and his body goes limp.

As he is sitting there tears streaming down his face a rough voice speaks up, "You are under arrest under the charges of domestic terrorism and murder of an officer of the law."

"No!" calls Umbrae as he yanks his arm from the officer, "You did this!"

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law," drones the officer.

"You did this!" screams Umbrae as he levels his gun at the officer's head and squeezes the trigger.

Umbrae snaps awake in a cold sweat and heavily panting. After a few moments of gathering himself he moves to the darkened balcony. Where the cool damp scent of the forest and the gentle roar of the waterfall helps to calm his rattled nerves. While he is idly staring he sees what appears to be a shadow near the top of the waterfall.

Deciding sleep wasn't going to show itself, Umbrae takes flight before landing next to the unmistakably draconic shape, "Hello Veneneer. What brings you here?"

"Couldn't sleep," she answers with a deep sadness in her voice.

"Want to talk about it?"

"What is there to talk about?" spits Veneneer.

"How about life in the village?"

"Why?" asks Veneneer curiosity replacing sadness in her voice, "It was just a regular village. Nothing too exciting."

"Because I come from very far away and know nothing about this land or its people."

"Well my village, HoneyDew, was founded as a retreat from the war, as such it was a peaceful place where dragonets can play and gather from the forest without a care in the world. Some would consider it a paradise. I know my parents sure did."

For the next several hours she speaks about her fondest memories and what master Seela taught well until after the first rays of sunshine crested the distant horizon. However her apparent euphoria soon dissipates as a frown crosses her face.

"What's wrong?" asks Umbrae as he notices her expression.

"I just realized that my best friends will never see the sun rise or set ever again."

After raising a comforting hand to place on her shoulder Umbrae realizes he doesn't know what is taboo in this strange world and settles for talking, "I'm sure your friends and family will love to see you be remembered for eternity and moping around won't accomplish that."

"You know you're right," calls Veneneer resolution filling her voice and all traces of sadness gone, "I'll make sure I'll be remembered until well after the sun stops rising. I will join the war and make those apes pay!"

"Very good!" approves Umbrae, "I may not know how to do that but I believe Ignitus will."

"Good, where do we find him?"

Looking out towards the horizon Umbrae notices a pair of silhouettes back lit by the rising sun, "Lets try over there."

When he is close enough to pick out their colors, red and blue, they are joined by a yellow dragon from the trees.

As he approaches he hears Cyril's pompous voice, "He probably went to report or position to Gaul."

Volteer's unmistakably energetic voice promptly bursts in, "I have found, located, detected, spied, set eyes upon him!"

"What are you babbling about? He has obviously left us," spits Cyril.

"Wow, for someone who has left I certainly feel like I'm here. Also who's Gaul and why would I report to him?" snarks Umbrae.

"There you are. Gaul is the current king of the apes," answers Ignitus before noticing Veneneer, "I see you've brought a guest. Who might you be?"

"I-I'm Veneneer," answers the dragoness, seeming a bit intimidated, "and I want to join the war against the apes."

"I don't see why not," answers Ignitus, "The more the merrier."

"What are your capabilities?" Asks Ignitus.

"Master Seela made sure I knew a lot about herbology," when he seems uninterested she continues, "And my element is poison."

He raises a brow, "Poison you say? Such a rare element with rather limited uses. How proficient are you in hand to hand?"

"Not at all, but I am willing to learn. I will do anything to get revenge on the apes who slaughtered my entire village!"

"Very well," answers Ignitus, "I'll teach you."

"Now that that's over," starts Cyril turning to Umbrae, "Where have you been?"

"Saving her from apes that were shipping her off to some 'Dark Master' for whatever reasons. Though with a name like that I doubt it was a tea party. Blew up a camp. Then I was disposing of an entire village's worth of corpses. After that I fell asleep in an inn whose owner I just sent down a river. Why?"

"Just curious," he turns to the rest of the group, "Now that we found what we were looking for, let us return to the temple."

When they arrive at the temple a red dragoness is pounding on the door. With surprising silence Ignitus lands behind her, "Hello Płomień. What brings you out here?"

With a twirl she launches a jet of flame that barely misses Ignitus. When she processes who she just tried to attack she dips her head in a deep bow, "Master Ignitus! My bad. It was a reflex I wasn't trying to attack you."

"Good reflexes are how one stays alive in war. You may rise."

"Thank You," she pulls a piece of paper from her pouch, "The council of warfang has summoned you."

"What about?" asks Ignitus.

"They would not say."

"Of course they didn't," mumbles Cyril before turning to Płomień, "Wait in the foyer we must get prepared."

As they leave Płomień turns to Umbrae, "Oh, hello. Who are you?"

"I'm Umbrae," he offers a hand, "Płomień? That's an odd name for a dragon."

"I know," answers Płomień, briefly raising an eyebrow before taking the offered hand, "But it's not like I got to choose my name."

"It's better than Umbrae," huffs Umbrae.

"What's wrong with it? It seems fitting if you are a shadow dragon."

"Whenever I say my name it sounds like I'm trying to interrupt someone named Brae before they walk through a door and get mauled to death by some hideously gruesome monster."

"That's quite violent, But good thing nobody is named Brae."

Before he can respond the guardians arrive each one wearing a full set of armor and equipped with a weapon. Ignitus with a halberd, Cyril with a sabre, and Volteer with a glaive.

"Cool!" calls Umbrae, "Do I get armor and a weapon!"

"What's your preference, predilection, inclination? In terms of weaponry, blades, foils?" asks Volteer at a barely followable speed.

"I have seven nearly eight years experience with a sabre," answers Umbrae, "And just as much on a bow."

"Cyril has dueling gear. Would that work?" asks Ignitus.

"What kind of blade is it and is it battle worthy?"

"It's a rapier and a parrying dagger. It's sharp enough to kill."

"It's not what I'm used to but I gather that I don't have a choice."

"No! Absolutely not!" cries Cyril, "I will not let a lowborn tarnish my meticulously maintained gear."

"The world is dangerous and he just needs protection until he gets to Warfang," explains Ignitus, "Would you mind fetching it. Chainmail included, he's about the same build as you."

"Fine," concedes Cyril, "Though I will teach you how to use it properly. I don't need you snapping it."

Moments later he returns with the gear. After a bit of struggling, especially around the stomach, he manages to don the chainmail.

"All set?" asks Ignitus.

"It's cutting into my stomach and armpits but other that it fits."

"That's to be expected, you are heavier than Cyril," answers Ignitus before speaking up, "Now everyone. Protect Veneneer for she cannot fight."

As soon as they are airborne Cyril is at his side giving a long spiel about how noble a rapier is and how to wield it, including the exact history behind each stance.

After a while Umbrae can't hold back his yawn, "You could have just taught me the stances and said to only thrust never parry. That's what the dagger is for. You didn't have to lecture me."

"The rapier is a noble weapon and its use is not just a combat form but an art form," Umbrae only yawns in response, "Fine. You're good enough with your stances. If you are so intent on yawning, go talk with Volteer, he'll get them all out of you."

"Wow a full sentence without mentioning nobility or ancestry?" Snarks Umbrae, "There's a first time for everything."

Gliding over Volteer notices him, "Greetings, salutations, welcome! Do you have a question, quandary, query?"

"First off, slow down and cool it with synonyms. You hear me?"

"Of course," answers Volteer.

"Good. Now if I am to become a soldier I should probably know how the government works."

"Oh, it is fascinating. We have found the perfect way for every dragon to have a voice. The Draconic Empire is a federation of many hundreds of mostly autonomous kingdoms, principalities, duchies, counties, prince-bishoprics, and Free Cities that work together under the Draconic King, who currently is Koning IV. Now unlike emperors and kings of the past the Draconic Emperor is elected by the Elector-Princes upon the death of their predecessor. Now the electors are appointed out of the states of the Draconic Empire by the Duchy of Oostelijk Koninkrijk or more simply called Nobele Strad after its capital."

"Sounds a lot like a nation from the history of my part of the world. It was called the Holy Roman Empire."

"Then you must know how well it works."

"There's a reason it's from history. It fell when a man named Napoleon came to power in the neighboring kingdom of France and invaded. Not to mention it seems like Nobele Strad has all the power. "

"How so?" asks Volteer.

"All Austria- I mean Nobele Strad has to do is place someone on the throne who is loyal to them and suddenly they can have him issue orders that benefit themselves."

"Luckily the king doesn't have absolute power. In order to pass laws or decrees he has to summon the imperial council and they have to vote on them."

"You said there were hundreds of autonomous regions. Do they all show up?"

"No, usually only the bigger ones show up and represent the smaller states around them."

"Sounds like a recipe for immense corruption."

"Please, dragons are far more noble than that," interjects Cyril.

"As much as I hate to admit it Cyril does have a point," agrees Volteer.

"If you say so, but do know it will all come crumbling down some day," sighs Umbrae, "Now if you do mind I'd rather get some acrobatic practice in."