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Red Skies (Daisy & OleDirtyBastard)

Daisy

Planetoid
Joined
Jul 28, 2012
The Red vale sheathed the pride of the Nautali Kingdom; Mendall City. It was a pearl amongst a savage beast, the capital of Nautali and according to many the living heart of Isadoln-Dale itself. Largely occupying the majority of the gorge with carefully sculpted infrastructure and sky-kissing towers; standing like some kind of unreal sentinel in the midst of a territory surrounded by thick forests. It was a bustling center of life for humans, where every major road across the known land seemed to buckle and bend to reach the economic nova. It was such a center of success that Mendall could easily sweep you into her bosom and suffocate you with city-living throes while forgetting the very wild land outside the premise. It was that large, and that pompous - because that is how humans liked it. They enjoyed comfort and luxury, and Mendall City was a duchess in the art of keeping the Nautali Kingdom strongly grounded in the basic needs of power and happiness.

If only the King could mirror such grandeur. Sadly his Highness, Merek Dilakt, had been forced to keep his solitude from public eye for the past two years. Young in his forties, who ought to have another 30 years under his belt, his health had been steadily decreasing ever since the crown had graced his temple. It was approached at first as common illness, or a lingering winter cold, or a puzzling fever deep in the bones that proved hard to shake. But now, after so many seasons of ruling out ‘why’, Merek was inclined to listen to the old Senior Magician’s insistent push to look towards the dragons as a possible reason.

They were so rare, those dragons. Even the Majesty himself who was supposed to be ordained by the beasts and linked to their supremacy had never seen one with his eyes. So many ages and generations have passed along with Kings and royal blood that the days of dragons were now fairy tales near myths for the grand majority of people. Only the court documents and old scribes and decaying books in the palace library declared the events as fact. Refusing to separate themselves from the flying lizards, these detailed accounts proclaimed that the Kingdom of Nautali was birthed in the shadow of their wings and that the beating hearts of those who would sit on her throne would unite as one with the regal souls of these living dragons.

Perhaps old Henri had a point. The master magician was not known for outlandish or thoughtless words, so Henri must genuinely believe this to be true. Was King Merek’s poor health a result of dragon neglect, or trouble with the beasts?

Merek felt himself grow weary once again, and tired. He would need to rest again and sleep. He couldn’t afford to spend much more energy on tossing this around in his head. He needed to lay this to rest. Answers must be found, especially now when Trenoch and Estaris threatened war. Already unauthorized blood had been shed on both sides of the borders in thoughtless squabbles and passionate beliefs. Nautali needed, and deserved, a strong King to face these issues.

He sat on an elaborate chair on the dias of the room. Partially slumped, his rich attire was padded and arranged in such subtle ways to hide his ailing body. But it was hard to cover up the hollow color of his skin in his face, if one could see passed his thick beard. He had brown hair that looked dusty today, compared to days in his healthy prime when it would shine with vibrant life. There was still a fight in his eyes; a stubborn spark that refused to surrender to whatever plagued him. But it flickered with doubt occasionally and labored with uncertainty.

These brown eyes rested upon the man who had just now entered the private room; the King’s Chosen. Merek knew him well, and trusted him beyond reason. So did Henri, it seemed, who was the only other person in the room standing slightly off to the side. For while this man’s service would grant the kingdom more benefit if he was assigned to lead a legion along the borders of Nautali to keep back intruders, it seemed a bit ridiculous to be charging him with a quest of this likelihood. But Henri reminded Merek and insisted that any issue or business regarding the dragons was not to be approached half-assed. Nautali must sacrifice the best it could afford. So with much ado, Merek nodded his head in acknowledgement to the approaching man and spoke with as much strength as he could muster through his ailing voice, “Thank you for coming at this early hour. I am afraid I am in need of your service yet again.”
 
The third man standing in the small room was named Sparhawk. His frame was that of a big man; not a bigness from flesh, though, but rather one born from large bones and ropy tendons. One time in the past, his nose had been broken; shoulderlong, coarse black hair framed his cleanly shaved face. His grey, piercing eyes were sharp, taking in every detail. In contrast to the king, Sparhawk looked about 10 years younger than he was - actually, he had already seen 46 summers. He carried the erosion of his years not so much on his battered face as in a half-dozen or so minor infirmities and discomforts, and in the several wide purple scars upon his body that ached in cold, damp weather.

As this had not been scheduled as a formal meeting, Sparhawk did not wear the formal breastplate and armor, nor the black surcoat with the silver-lined embleme of his family, a hawk holding a spear in its talons. He was clad in a simple, dark-brown wanderer's cloak and high boots. Sparhawk had his failings, sure, but vanity had never been one of these.

When he had entered the room a minute ago, he had fallen to one knee and had bowed his head to his liege. "I am yours to command me, your Majesty. Thy humble servant awaits the orders thou givest to him, and by the holy oath of the crown he will not falter, whatever task may be thy will."
The gesture and the traditional words had bought him some time, because actually Sparhawk had been scared - and it took a lot to scare him. He hadn't been at the court for the last two years, being on various errands on behalf of his order, the Pandion Knights. And the visible deterioration of King Merek in those two years gave Sparhawk any reason to be shocked. He had regained his composure when he stood up again, but he suspected that his straight face wouldn't fool the king, and surely it wouldn't fool Henri.

"Your Highness, I am your chosen champion." he said with a surprisingly soft voice. "To serve you is the very definition of that title, so there is no need to apologize. Now, what is it that you want me to do?"
 
“Sparhawk,” Merek answered, with a deeply settled frown, “As you can see my health is failing me.”

There was a slight movement in the King’s countenance sitting in that chair as his arm drew closer up the armrest affording a more comfortable spot for his elbow. The long sleeve of his robe was a deep, royal blue with a metallic gold trim and accents. A wretched pain in his chest made him grimace, but only slightly so. Over the past few months it had been increasingly difficult to appear before his subjects because the evidence of his sickness was too great to hide anymore. Now seeing even Sparhawk strain to keep a straight face, who always seemed as an unmovable force no matter the surprise seated a heavier sadness on top of what already lingered in Merek’s soul.

Merek sighed, and after giving Henri a glance he continued in a more confident tone; convinced that this needed to be done. “My strength is nearly gone, my supremacy is being tested by our neighbors, and if you recall from legend these traits of a Nautali King is supposed to be protected and upheld by Isadoln dragons. With my physicians and healers at wits end, we are inclined to speculate that perhaps something is awry with this legendary link.”

His brown eyes which had held Sparhawk’s grew with urgency. If the Pandion Knight was scared for his King, how much more scared was Merek? He didn’t want to die like this. He had so much more to give for his kingdom and country. “I need you to investigate this link. Bring me news of today’s status with our dragons. So many ages have passed without any word from them and we fear they have forgotten us or have fallen into peril. Or worse yet, have shunned us. I need to know if my condition is a result of some weakness in this link. I must have news, so that I can lay this speculation to rest.”

But now his tone fell into softness; mirroring regret and endearment for Sparhawk, who had already served his King enough to last many lifetimes over. “I pray you do not find this quest as an insult. I know it is best suited for a Journeyman or an Outrider and not for the exceptional skills of my Champion. But this sickness is very personal to me, and there are very few I can trust with something that strikes me to the heart as this does. And as well, it is only customary for the King to sacrifice his best in matters regarding the dragons. Where I desperately need you elsewhere doing matters fitting of your caliber, you are still my best man, and therefore most suited.”

“I hope this quest sits well with you, Sparhawk?”
 
"As I said, your Majesty - it's my task to obey your orders, so you don't have to ask." Sparhawk threw the king a warm smile. "Nice of you to ask, though."
He then pondered over the old legends for some seconds. The Pandions thought of knowledge as a weapon of equal strength as the sword, so he knew the tales about dragons - some of them he could even recite word by word.

"I would have two questions, though. Now, first, I gather that you don't just want me to run around the world, yelling 'Where are the dragons?' all the time." The knight paused for a moment. "I would do this, of course, but I think the chances of success are ... rather slim. And I don't recall the old legends, as far as I remember them, giving any advice on where to find them. And, unfortunately, the last actual verified sighting of a dragon was some four hundred something years ago. So, it would be nice if some person more knowledgeable than a simple knight, could give me some hints as to where to begin."
With these words, he turned around to Henri, questioningly raising an eyebrow.
"Second, as soon as I have found the dragons - what am I to do with them?"
 
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