The city of Uru'baen was massive, stretching out over the horizon, where Eragon could not see it. It was alive with noise, the white marble walls seeming to vibrate with the sounds of shouting, the air hot with the breath of thousands of people. Most of the noise around them died down when Eragon came in the gates on Saphira. With a deafening explosion the people cheered the arrival of another rider, all of them trying to get close to him.

The entrance couldn't have been grander. The sun was shining, there wasn't a cloud in the sky, and soldiers clad in golden armor strode alongside him, blinding the citizens with the refection of the sun. And in all of it, Saphira stood proudly, her scales gleaming in the light like hundreds of jewels. Eragon rode her through the streets, the people cheering and shouting around him. At the gates of the castle made of black rock, guards drove the people away, leading Eragon and Saphira through the halls of the great building.

Two great oaken doors opened before them, and they entered the throne room. The black rock contrasted with the pure white walkway. Eragon then saw Galbatorix. He was young, seeming to be only thirty; his black hair combed and clean, his pointed beard well-groomed. He wore a plain gray tunic, no gold or silver, no jewels of any kind, he seemed to only be a peasant in the field, but he held an air of power.

Beside the king stood Shruikan, the massive black dragon. Eragon had thought that the dragon would be in chains, forced to serve the king, but instead he stood proudly by the man's side, watching them with interest as they approached. To Eragon's astonishment, they bowed to him and Saphira.

"It is a great thing, this." Galbatorix said, his voice deep and clear. "Now the riders are to be reborn from the ashes I made in such haste, and the land will finally recover." He held out his hand and Eragon shook it, stunned. "I am Galbatorix, rider of Shruikan. You must be Eragon and Saphira. You need not call me anything but Galbatorix, though if you find a reasonable nickname I'll be fine with that." Eragon blinked several times.

"I must admit, you're not what I expected. I pictured at the very least you to be clad in pure gold!" Galbatorix laughed merrily.

"Most of what the commoners say is an exaggeration. It is human nature to be that way, and I will not even try to stop it. Welcome to Uru'baen, your new home. You will be treated as equals in all but name. My personal tailor will see you later as to getting you new clothes, and I can see to having a proper sword forged. I will train you as the riders of old did, and I will provide for everything you need."

"Thank you, sire." Galbatorix laughed.

"I told you, you don't need to call me that. Just call me Galbatorix, or if you insist then call me sir. I do not expect you to bow to my wishes, nor should you. You are a rider, and though young you are as great as I." He looked at Saphira. "My god, you are a truly marvelous sight, Saphira. Don't think I've forgotten you; your needs will be provided for as well. I will see that a proper saddle is made for you, so your rider's legs aren't torn apart by your scales." He glanced at Shruikan. "I made that mistake, and I never forgot it."

Thank you. Saphira said, smiling. Galbatorix shuddered, a flicker of something in his eyes. Are you alright? Galbatorix clutched his chest, his eyes closed. He sat back down on his stone chair, breathing heavily.

"Your voice sounds just like…Alana's…" He shook his head. "It was a time long past, I shouldn't let it bother me." He opened his eyes and looked at Eragon powerfully. "If you never learn anything else from me, even if you decided to try and take the throne from me, or if you became my enemy, remember this; never let her come to harm. Without your dragon every day of your life will be an agony. Trust me…I know it from experience." He paused. "A servant is outside the doors to take you to your quarters. When you are ready, come down to see me and we'll begin your training."

Eragon walked out of the room, the brown-clad man standing before him. The man smiled and nearly ran off, forcing Eragon to run behind him. The doors of his chambers were large enough to accommodate even Shruikan, and Saphira stepped inside easily.

The walls were paneled in oak; the bed was large with a blue quilt on it. There was a massive balcony, large enough for a dragon twice Shruikan's size to land on. Saphira stepped out onto it, seeing a large depression in the stone. Eragon saw another door, equally as large as the main ones, and stepping through it he found a study. The walls were filled with books, but he couldn't read. The great desk was a dark wood he couldn't identify, and he saw more of the massive doors to his right.

He found a large room, filled with chairs. On one side was a fireplace, and on the other was a massive painting of a silver dragon. On the mantelpiece was a silver sword, and when Eragon touched it the blade hummed. The blade was obviously not made by humans. The pommelstone was a glass ball with swirling black and white mist. There was a symbol on the blade, one he found he could read even though he had never seen it before. Dream-Blade. He swung the sword and it hummed very loudly. He frowned and put it back on the mantelpiece, thinking that the strange blade could be dangerous.

There was another door, and when he opened it, he found the hallway. Eragon sighed, thinking that he was truly living like a king. When he entered the bedroom Saphira sniffed his hands.

There's something on you. She aid, seeming alarmed. It smells like the air before lightning strikes. Eragon looked at his hands and saw a silver dust, probably from the sword. He rubbed his hands together and the particles fell to the floor. When he turned around he nearly jumped out of his skin from seeing the silver sword floating after him.

The blade twirled in the air, slashing at him. Thinking quickly Eragon drew the Ra'zac blade, blocking a slash. Saphira growled, pinning the blade to the ground. It melted to a puddle of silver, oozing out of her grasp and reshaping. It struck at Eragon again, and he tried to block it, but the blade cut him on the arm. It was nothing more than a scratch, but the blade stopped, floating in front of him.

Eragon reached out to grab it, but it flew away into the other room. Saphira snorted. We should ask the king about this. Almost immediately he felt a tendril of thought in his mind, but it wasn't Saphira.

Ask me what? Galbatorix said. Eragon suppressed his shock to ask.

There's a silver sword in my chambers. It attacked me on its own, without being held by anyone! Eragon heard the king laugh in his mind.

That is Draumr-Sverdar, or Sverdar as it likes to be called, an intelligent weapon once wielded by a rider. It won't hurt you more than a scratch, so don't worry. The blade must taste your blood to see if you are its former owner, and then it will just go back to its resting place.

As long as it doesn't do it again.

It won't move another inch now that it has determined that you are not the owner. Just call for me with your mind if you need anything, Eragon. The presence vanished. Saphira nudged Eragon's shoulder.

We were wrong about the king, Eragon. He seems kind, but let's wait and see more of his character before we decide.

I will. There's something not entirely right about all this. Eragon lay on the bed. Let it wait till morning; it has been so long since I slept on a real bed.

Good night, little one. Saphira said, laying her head on top of him. He was asleep almost instantly, the sword humming in the next room.

One of my favorite creations is Sverdar the intelligent blade. It's so awesome. REVIEW!

That is all.

-Thissa the Worldmaker