The first cracks of dawn were silent, and the Central District was dirtied beyond belief. There were gnawed bones of food left throughout the street, and decorations were crumpled, rolling through like tumbleweeds. A handful were helping sweep, wash, and clean up yesterday’s festivities before the citizens of Leviara had woken.

  “God, why’s it that we do this?” A man said.

  “Think to yourself. Who else will do it if we don’t?” A woman replied.

  “Fair point. Don’t think I’ll see knights scrubbing grime from the streets. Hey, do you believe what King Alan said?” The man tossed stray pieces of meat into a bag.

  “It could be true, but I frankly don’t care as long as we’re safe.” The woman swept up the garbage into a pile.

  “What’s true will remain, and what’s false will rot. It’ll only be a matter of time.” She added.

  Despite the early morning, a few figures were seen walking towards a knight. One was a towering man with an eyepatch over his left eye. He looked like a walking mound of never-ending muscle. Two men were right behind him—they looked like ants compared to the towering man.

  “Hell’s going on over there?...” The cleaning man asked.

  “Mind your business and clean. I’ve no doubt those are bandits, but what are they doing with a knight?” The woman whispered, dragging him to a different area.

  “Look at you, Morris. Who gave you that scar, huh?” Merle scoffed.

  “Quiet, Merle. I fought a dragon hybrid and lived to tell the tale. You’ll never come close to an accolade like that with the sorry people of the underground.” Morris crossed his arms.

  “Uh-huh. Since you clearly got my message, I know you’re interested in my offer.”Merle said.

  “Yes, I was interested. We will do business together to save your pathetic people. After, you will leave ownership of the underground to me.” Morris said.

  “That’s fine by me. We were planning to relocate anyway.” Merle grinned.

  “Good. That means we have nothing left to discuss until nightfall. Goodbye, Merle.” Morris turned on his heel and walked away.

  Merle let out an exhale, pushing his hair back.

  “So, you made a deal with a pack of bandits? You couldn’t have been any more stupid.” Yuko was across the street in an alley.

  Merle’s heart dropped, looking over to the dark alley.

  “I don’t think I know who you are. I’ll kill you for meddling in my business, woman.” Merle put his hand on his sword.

  His eyes widened. Merle hadn’t even gotten to take a step forward, and Yuko was right in his face, katana pressed directly against his throat.

  “Quiet, Mr. Knight. You’re a little far from your outpost, don’t you think?” Her eyes were glaring beneath the hood.

  “Wait a moment. You’re the assassin who kidnapped the envoy. What did you do with them?” He murmured.

  “Sorry to say, but don’t bother looking for him. He’s nothing but bones, now. Guessing some wild animal ate him.” She removed her blade from his throat.

  “What?... Why would you—” He stammered.

  “Got paid for it, why else? It was a pretty hefty load.” She grabbed him and pulled him into the alley she came from.

  “You’re from the underground, then? There’s no other way you could know about my posing as a knight.” Merle said.

  “Yeah, I was staying at the tavern in the underground. Heard you going on about that dragon-blood stuff. Where can I find the dragon?” She asked.

  “I can’t just give you the location of the manor. Especially when he’s in the process of moving to another location.” Merle explained.

  “And let me guess, it could blow your cover as a knight. Trust me, I know my way around these things. The thing is, you’re probably already suspected of being an imposter. If you go back to that manor, you’ll die.” Yuko said.

  “You don’t know that,” Merle said.

  “They’re not gonna let you slip away. King Alan means business. Those warding runes are up already, which means it’s gonna be harder for you to wear armor that doesn’t belong on you.” She said.

  “If I do tell you where that dragon is, are you going to help the underground?” Merle asks.

  “I’m not going to help someone who made a deal with some bandits. You think Leviara needs any more trouble? All it’s doing is making it harder for me to creep in the shadows. But I’ll cut you a deal.” She reaches out her bandaged arm.

  Merle could see scarlet flickers of light beneath the cracks of the bandages.

  “What is it?” He took a slight step back.

  “A simple one, really. Cut your losses with that bandit, and I’ll leave you a vial of that dragon’s blood.” Yuko said.

  Merle’s brows arched up.

  “You’re not lying to me, are you?” He asked.

  “Assassin’s vow. You have my word as long as you fulfill my condition.” Yuko grins.

  “... Are you aware that you’re asking me to double-cross my brother?” Merle said.

  “That’s your brother? You oughta be ashamed of him. I can understand your cause for the underground, but you don’t even know his motives. You really think giving him the underground is a good idea?” Yuko still kept her hand out.

  Merle looked at her hand for several moments. He then reached out, shaking her hand.

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  “Fine, it’s a deal.” He said.

  “Smart choice. Now, where can I find that dragon?” She retracts her hand.

  The sun had barely risen above the trees, soft gray clouds beginning to form, while the sky was a mesmerizing blend of gold and crimson.

  Outside of King Alan’s manor was the sound of striking against wood.

  “You know what? That was an adequate kick. I think you could bring that leg up a little more, and pivot earlier as well.” Xena said.

  Veyric let out a long sigh, rubbing a bead of sweat from his forehead.

  “No one ever said punching and kicking wood was this painful.” Splinters were embedded in his skin, and blood was trailing down the back of his hand.

  “Well, no one ever said it was gonna feel like pillows and a soft bed, either.” Xena crossed her arms.

  “Everything looks so simple on paper, but I don’t know what any of it means.” Veyric scratched his head, crouching down to look at the book on the floor.

  “The raid of a dragon can only be produced when you’re interlinked with all that flows within, and all that goes with the wind.” Veyric recited.

  “The wrath of a dragon not only comes from anger, but from rightful reason within the soul to annihilate.” He added.

  “To understand the truth of the flame, you must understand what it means to control it. Once you give it direction, it can then be wielded cleverly.” Veyric read.

  “Do you think whoever wrote this could make it sound any less vague?” He added.

  “Well, I’m not a dragon, so it’s up to you to figure it out. But if it’s anything combat-related, I can try to help.” She replied.

  “I’m sure it’s something to do with combat. These are all illustrations of attacks.” Veyric said.

  “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” She shrugs.

  There was silence between them. Veyric read the passages in his head this time. The birds chirped, and a chilly wind blew over, rustling the trees surrounding the manor.

  “Hmm. It’s getting cold. That means Frostveil’s here.” Xena muttered.

  “You’re cold? Well, I’m warm.” Veyric said.

  “Makes sense that you’re warm, and I’m cold. You’re hot-blooded and can make fire.” She said with a chuckle.

  “Although when I get older, I want to move somewhere quiet, warm, with a house on a grassy hill.” Xena sighs.

  “I think you deserve that,” Veyric said.

  “I’m glad you think so too. Being a captain for a bunch of brickheads is tiring work. I’m glad you came along, honestly. It restored some of my faith in Leviara. Last night did as well. I feel like we have more to look forward to in the future.” Xena leaned against one of the trees.

  “And having a quiet abode is starting to become more believable.” She adds.

  Veyric smiled, stood upright, and turned to face her.

  “But, I gotta ask, do you think any of what King Alan said is true?”

  “Yes. Without a doubt in my mind, it has to be true. Whenever he speaks on certain things, he always has that look in his eyes when it’s serious.” She added.

  “So, his father killed my mother and separated the Wyvernlands from Augus because he was afraid of her?” Veyric asked.

  “That’s what he said. But it all makes sense as to why some people are more afraid of you than a maniac running around Leviara. If they were forced to believe Fryvnal was a cunning trickster, then you look all the more frightening from their perspective. In a sense, I can see that it makes them feel like history is repeating itself. But it always has, just in different ways. You’re that difference, Veyric.” Xena smiled at him.

  “Don’t say stuff like that.” He turned back to the log of wood.

  “I get it. The truth’s hard to handle. You might be a legend one day, Veyric. Or should I say because you’re Fryvnal’s son, you’ll be a legend anyway.” She chuckles again.

  “I’d have to do something impactful to be considered a legend. That’ll be hard to do on a continent full of people who fear me. What I do want is to help the Wyvernlands in any way I can. It’s my home.” He added.

  Xena laughs again.

  “That still sounds heroic, Veyric.”

  “No, it doesn’t.” He sighs, punching the log.

  “Yes, it does.” She watches him attack the log with a smirk on her face.

  The sun had risen, signalling the start of a new day.

  Ash colored grass crunched beneath Enne’s boots. All around him was ruin and piles of debris. Trees were dead, and not a single sprout of verdancy had dared to grow. The sun was blocked out by gray, obscuring clouds. Enne continued up the hill of a broken footpath. Once making it to the end of the ascending trail, he heard armor rustling, swords clashing, and warcries erupting in the far distance.

  He sniffed the air and could smell blood. His eyes narrowed, and the runes in his horns ignited with a purple flare. Approaching the sound of combat, he saw a flagpole stuck into the ground of the battlefield. Enne opened his hands and clenched them repeatedly. Each time he did it, heat spread across his body. Enne exhaled light amounts of steam from his nose, and flames threatened to escape his palms.

  He approached the dovetail flag. Its colors were black and gold, with its emblem being a red pegasus. Enne lit it on fire without hesitation. The purple flames incrementally overwhelmed the banner, smoke rising while he walked past, continuing towards the sound of battle with hollow eyes.