Thread: The Dragon of the Blue Moon

Chapter Three The grand hall was decorated lavishly, the tiled floors gleaming with a sunny, golden marble streaked with burnt orange veins, and the walls smooth with crowned moldings and pillars of white stone that accented well with the gold and brass colored draperies on the tall windows along the far wall. The sky beyond was black, the lights from the millions of candles in the diamond chandeliers shining off the glass and casting a faux daylight in the room. A table sat along one side of the room and a large hearth sat on the other but no one sat, the liveried genteel who lived within the castle walls all preferring to stand amidst the celebrations. Lords and ladies, dukes and other assorted nobles, both related and outside of the royal line stood assembled, chittering away in small clustered groups together while a group of three musicians played in the far corner upon a small dais, a fourth man singing melodiously to the ambient tune. Nicholas stood not far from the windows feeling and looking decidedly out of place in his wealthily embroidered jacket and well-woven boots and clean pants. He'd cleaned up nicely, the grime of battle and the residue of enemy blood scrubbed completely away from every crevice on his face and body, and short hair that had once been dark, always gleaming with a wet, spiked sheen, turned a sandy brown, slightly fluffed after being washed and allowed to dry. Standing as he was in a predatory slouch apart from the other guests - a posture he adopted when feeling anxious or uncertain - it was clear he did not belong in the noble class and even his expensive clothing and groomed appearance could not hide that. Fuck! What was he doing here? It was one of the pitfalls of being friends with the prince, he supposed. He got the benefits of being readily accepted among peers even before they knew of what he could do on the battle field just by association with the man. But he also got dragged along to all these stupid parties and big shot meetings where they planned strategy and talked politics. He was just a soldier, God dammit! All he had a desire and talent for was killing people. As much as he appreciated the confidence it showed that Tristan had in him and how much he valued his opinion, Nick really didn't care about all this other bullshit. As long as he got to unleash the dragon he carried with him and sate his bloodlust, it didn't matter to him where he had to go for the next fight. Curse Tristan for getting him into this1 and shame on himself for not having the balls to bean the brat on the head with something heavy when he'd insisted on his attendance for the 50th time. To calm his nerves, Nicholas tipped back the rest of the drink in his hand and glared sourly at the men and woman currently circled around Tristan and welcoming the prince home for this brief visit. Pompous laughter bubbled up from the crowd of nobles and Nick sneered even as the dragon within stirred to adjust it's sleeping position. Oh, yes, stories of a far away war that they had no comprehension of were sooooo amusing! Ridiculous. He let out a groan under his breath and glanced around the room for a way out. Finding none, he went back to glowering menacingly at the few who happened to glance his way. Their awkwardness in reaction to the expression was entertaining for a while but eventually he grew bored with it. Thankfully, Tristan approached him after having gotten away from his group of friends for a while and flashed a sympathetic smile at the thin warrior. Having a good time? Nicholas took a long swallow from his freshly refilled glass before speaking. I hate you, he said looking around the room with uncomfortable disdain. In the entire time he'd known the man, Tristan had rarely seen Nicholas become unnerved. Witnessing him so out of his element now was truly an innocent delight, so he took the display of hostility with an amused grace. You could have said 'no', he said with a smirk. Nick's eyes turned a level look on the prince. I DID. 42 times, the dragon had counted specifically how many times he'd been propositioned for this event on the way here from Leads Hill. Right, well, I was required to ask you at least 50 since the request came specifically from my father, was the response. Hrmph. Then where is the bloated windbag that spawned your annoyingly persistent ass? Scouring the room, he searched faces, already knowing that the man was not here. The jabbing insults rolled lightly off of Tristan's back and he adjusted the silk vest under his midnight blue jacket. He's already in the drawing room waiting with the council. I wanted to stop off here first to make an appearance with a few people who've been waiting to see me, he paused to release Nicholas of his wine glass, handing it to a passing servant. I'd hoped to get you in a relaxed environment to allow you a few moments to enjoy yourself and loosen up before the meeting. But I can see it's not going to happen. Nick nodded without humor and Tristan merely shook his head before leading the way from the room. The hallways were just as rich as the grand hall, the ceilings high and vaulted and the marble continuing on, polished underfoot. In the middle of a long, circular hallway with very little twists and turns, Tristan came to a stop at a door with a guard in front of it. Even before they'd come within earshot, the guard had turned to knock on the heavy doors, poking his head inside when a voice within the room answered. Standing still before the doors, they waited only a moment for the guard to announce their presence before he turned back and opened the doors wide to admit them, closing them snugly behind, once they'd both crossed the threshold. The room was smaller than the grand hall, but the tall windows, high ceilings and large fireplace were repeated here, although the lamps around the room remained unlit and the only light came from the gargantuan hearth. The colors were darker here, the walls colored with tapestries on all sides except that with windows and a large carpet covered the floor almost completely to the door. Furniture filled the space as well, a large table - big enough to seat 8 - 10 men comfortably - and several upholstered chairs sat in a semi-circle around the fireplace with several small round tables occupying the spaces between them, adorned with small statues made of precious metals and exquisitely made vases. Against one wall there stood a bookshelf, the tomes upon it's shelves cast in shadow from the firelight. 7 men occupied the space in front of the fireplace, either seated in a chair or standing and as the two newcomers approached, the conversation became clearer with only one of the men speaking at the moment. The savages have continued to attack from Brock Marsh, even though there are continuous reports about the men growing ill because of their armor constantly getting wet. They will give up there believe me it's not going to be worth it to him if his men cannot survive the season, let alone what our forces are doing to them. The man finished speaking and turned from the assembled men who'd all been attending his every word with thoughtful expressions, and a regal smile blossomed over his wrinkled and aged features as he turned to welcome Tristan. There was an obvious family resemblance between them, with the older man looking like Tristan aged 50 years, with a light well-trimmed beard and graying blonde locks down to his shoulders. Reginald, the king of Roland, held himself high with an air of authority and royal majesty. It had the effect of making him look like a once proud and fierce lion that had grown weary with time but not disarmed by the years. There was still plenty of life and threat in the old warrior's step as he walked a few feet forward and offered his hand to the man who had entered with his son. Welcome, Nicholas, is it? Nick took the offered hand feeling a tremble of power surge through him from the other man's palm and a small smile graced his lips as he nodded. Right away he knew this was not only a man he could grow close to and enjoy the company of, but a king worthy of his love and respect. Even before he'd joined Roland's army just a few months ago, he'd barely even cared about this war, seeing it as nothing more than an irritating obstacle as certain cities were flooded with refugees traveling away from the southern borders, or trade routes were clogged with supply wagons for soldiers at strategic points of battle. Even when he'd joined the fighting, his loyalty had been to himself, agreeing to kill the darker skinned men invading from the southern mountains merely for the fact that he had a gift for doing so and liked to exercise his talents as much as possible. For the first time since his father had died, Nick felt like he could actually dedicate himself to the cause and authority of another man. Started without us, I see, Tristan said with a small grin. No, just going over a few of the reports from the last few months, that's all. You're just in time, and the older gentleman spread a welcoming arm towards the circle of chairs, before walking back over to his spot in the middle of them and leaning on the mantelpiece. Now, let's get down to business, he said in his deep and lightly weathered voice. And yet again, Nicholas found himself feeling out of place as the discussion of war turned into a planning meeting for the best strategies. With his new found loyalty to the war itself, he tried to listen but found himself counting the minutes instead. I shouldn't be here, he kept thinking as the other men in the room offered different opinions on the best course of action. Anborn, the Emperor of Sorbold had been focusing his troops to the geographical weakpoints in Roland's borders, the ports along the coast, and through neighboring lands in the west. So far, he'd been kept at bay, merely knocking at their doors and barely presenting a threat. Despite the years the war had already been going on for, Sorbold was a large nation and seemed to have an endless supply of soldiers to send crashing against the border. Thus, when there were rumors of him marching on Stoneshell keep, Roland had reason to grow worried. The southernmost fortress and largest defense standing in the way of Sorbold in it's pursuit of the rest of the northern kingdom. If they broke through and gained control of the keep, they'd have an unshakeable foothold within Orlandan lands and it would turn the tide of the war in their favor. They could not let that happen. So, the current discussion revolved around how best to hold the fortress against the other forces, and Nicholas listened idly as he let his eyes wander over the rich furnishings in thoughtful appraisal. That is, until he was included in the conversation. What say you, soldier? the king asked, instantly diverting Nicholas's attention back on the assembled council. Uh...well... Oh, fuck! What had they been talking about? His human brain fumbled as his mind went blank and he reached out for the dragon's memory which kept an endless log of everything that ever occurred within range of it's senses. Sorry, was sleeping. Can't help you, it murmured apathetically, and Nicholas internally glared in response. Great. Thanks, stupid snake. Thanks a lot. Reginald could tell the younger man felt put on the spot by his question, so he eased into something else to try and release the pressure he felt. Afterall, it wasn't every day a lower ranked soldier without title was included in these private war meetings with the king himself. I've heard about your prowess in battle, young man. The Haddon Plains, Leads Hill. Both times you turned the enemy away in a matter of days. Rarely have I known Anborn to give up on geographical openings, always throwing more men at the problem in an endless stream to wear us down, but apparently you've exhausted both his patience and the energy put into the placement of his troops. And in just a few months as well. I don't think I've ever met a man capable of doing that and you have my utmost respect for the power you wield. The praise made Nicholas puff out his chest a little and a gracious smile jumped to his face. He should have said something respectful and dignified along the lines of, 'Well, Roland is my land too' or 'Just trying to keep the land of my father's safe from those who'd seek to destroy us.' But what he ended up doing was pulling a Gareth and with a stupid grin on his face said, Thank you. What can I say? I really like killing people. Smooth. Immediately after the words left his mouth, his expression turned to an embarrassed wince and he looked to Tristan for help, but the man was busy choking down a drink he'd poured from a nearby decanter. Anything!? he pulsed at the white dragon in his chest, feeling it yawn and shift position slightly. Nope. Sleeping. Sorry. Fuck. Instead of the weird look and awkwardness he expected however, the king burst into laughter, his voice ringing through the room with heartfelt joy. Reginald was momentarily incapacitated by the laughter that came rumbling up straight from his gullet, but after a few minutes regained his composure and control. Slapping Nick on the shoulder heartily he said, Spoken like a true warrior. Or a true sociopath, the dragon pulsed in amusement. I thought you were too frigging busy sleeping? Nick thought back. Only too busy to help you commentary comes with little to no effort. And once again, Nicholas found himself internally glaring at the white dragon as it smugly closed it's eyes again. Now, Nicholas, Stoneshell keep has seven inner walls surrounding the main halls, he continued with just a hint of warmth in his voice towards the younger man. The space between the first four are no man's zones, but the last 3 have homes and businesses filling them. The first 3 walls can fall without causing any trouble, but once they get to the fourth we'll need to concentrate the forces and keep them from breaking through. It is very important that they not reach the main keep past the seventh wall. The king had more to say, but Nicholas chimed in as soon as he took a pause for breath. I can make sure they never break through the first wall, there was no room in his voice for doubt and he shrugged effortlessly as if it were child's play to him - because it was. The king looked like he was going to ask him something else important and to stave off the need for him to make a decision about something he didn't care enough about to understand he said, Look, just point me in the right direction and sit back and watch as the bodies fall. As simple as that. Sir. The address of respect was added as an afterthought and he found himself a bit nervous while waiting for the king to respond. Reginald smiled in approval and nodded his head and said, Nicholas, you make this war seem incredibly easy to beat. And I don't know why but I am more than confident that you have the power to back up your claims. Well that was easy... Wait-- Nicholas turned his sights inward and felt the dragon pulsing it's suggestive power out in a wave through the room. You? he asked in surprise. It was awake and helping him, even though it was extremely bored by the whole proceeding. and it was waiting as well. Thank you, Nick finally pulsed, his shoulders relaxing. You know I'm awesome, the white dragon said back, preening grandly.