The Knight and the Crossbreed
The knight groaned and opened his eyes, slowly climbing to his feet. He looked around, and saw that he was standing on a rickety wooden bridge, leading up to what seemed to be a snow-capped mountain. The air was heavy with a deathly chill, colder than the knight had felt in many years. He was glad to have a coat and a shawl around his shoulders.
"Is this... the landscape from the painting? Did I get pulled into another realm?" The knight's low baritone was lost to the howling wind, not that he expected anyone to hear him anyway. Seeing no other options, he decided to proceed up to the mountain. The bridge creaked and strained with every step, the thin boards worn and rotten from age. "Whatever gods rule this realm, please let this path hold." he prayed. Luckily for the knight, his prayers seemed to be answered, and he made his way safely onto solid ground. Looking forward, he saw that a thin path snaked its way up the mountain ahead of him. Snow crunching under his feet, the knight was pleased to discover a welcome sight near the end of the path.
"A bonfire! Perhaps this place is hospitable after all..." he said, relieved. As soon as he took a seat in front of the magical flame, a comforting warmth enveloped his body, and for just a moment, all of his troubles were gone. The orange glow of the fire illuminated the knight's armor. The steel of his helmet shone brightly, and the heraldic symbol on his coat, embroidered in gold, appeared to glow. The distinctive design of his armor belied his identity instantly: an elite knight of Astora. The knight rose to his feet, refreshed, and looked further up the path, which led to a crumbled black stone building.
The knight approached the building, and saw a large open doorway, leading into a barren courtyard. As he progressed into the snowy courtyard, he saw a trail of human footprints in the snow, leading to a large rounded tower. "These prints are recent. Who would have come to this wretched place?" the knight grumbled to himself. Following the trail, the knight climbed up a crumbling stone staircase and emerged from the tower onto a balcony, where he saw an enormous stone bridge stretching out in front of him. Lying partway down the bridge was a stationary black mass. The knight approached the object carefully and saw, to his horror, that it was a pair of huge, terribly rotten legs. The footprints were all over the bridge here, in multiple directions, and the knight surmised that his predecessor must have slain the creature. Beyond the rotted mass, there was a coliseum-like structure, so the knight carefully climbed over the pair of legs, trying not to imagine what horrid diseases it might carry.
Unfortunately, there was a large hole in the bridge that the knight had failed to see, and he plummeted almost twenty feet downwards before landing on a lower level of the bridge. He had landed flat upon his back, and his entire body ached as he slowly picked himself up. His whole body was covered with snow now, and the warmth of the bonfire, which he had rested at only a few minutes before, seemed like naught but a happy memory. Very mindful of his surroundings now, the knight trudged towards the round stone building ahead of him. As he entered the structure through a tall archway, he was surprised to see a figure loom into view. She was a towering figure, almost three times his height, and she held a wicked scythe that was equally sized. Despite this intimidating stature, however, the knight saw that she held no hostility. Instead, her face, framed by pure white hair, was laced with worry.
"Thou art not the first stranger to these lands. As with the other, thou do not belong." she said coolly. She spoke with a refined, antiquated tongue, which told the knight that the woman was very old. There was no anger in her voice, but the knight did detect a hint of annoyance.
"I mean you no harm, fair lady. I am simply a lost and weary traveler. May I ask who you are?" the knight replied, trying to sound polite. The knight was legitimately curious about the woman, though he hoped that his question would not offend her.
"I am Priscilla, born of man and dragon. If thou truly hast no ill intent, I shalt tolerate thy presence... for now. What is thine name, traveler?" Priscilla answered, her voice sounding more open now. She was intrigued by this traveler, for he seemed earnest in his politeness. She lowered her scythe slightly, to indicate that they were on peaceful terms.
"I am Sir Yeral of Astora, and I appreciate your hospitality, Lady Priscilla. Worry not, for I will leave you in peace soon enough. I will linger for a few hours, at most, until I am ready to depart." Yeral stated earnestly, punctuating his greeting with a humble bow. After a moment, he leaned his back against the stone wall and slumped down, assuming a comfortable sitting position. After a moment, he spoke up again. "Are you really a crossbreed between a human and a dragon? I have never heard of such a thing before."
"Thou wouldst not have. My name was erased from history, my very existence obscured. Some feared the powers I doth possess." Priscilla said, her eyes seeming distant and sad. After a moment, she looked away. "I hath said too much. 'Tis not my place to complain of fate."
Yeral smiled sympathetically, although Priscilla could not see it behind his helmet. He felt sorry for the crossbreed, what kind of power would be so bad that she would hide away forever? He desperately wanted to hear more about her, but he knew that she did not want to discuss her past. Of course, she didn't want him to stay there at all. Maybe there was a way that he could coax her into sharing more?
"Lady Priscilla, would you care to hear a bit of my past? How I came to this isolated realm? And in return, perhaps I might learn something about you?" Yeral asked, hoping that she would be curious enough to agree. Priscilla paused for a moment, and then took a few steps closer to Yeral, nodding her head. She had never had someone interested in just talking to her before. She still was not sure if she could trust this so-called knight, but curiosity got the best of her. Seeing her signs of agreement, Yeral started off on his tale.
"It all started in an asylum, far in the northern reaches..."