Losing Shadows

Amadeus

Chapter Twelve

Fell hadn't left his room much since the red storm had passed, or since the surface patrol had been a failure. He had felt very out of place watching his father give orders to captain Keres, talking strategy to his great uncles, and spending time with his sister. He couldn't believe that even Harlow was doing some of her own preparations if she was forced to fight for their family.

As if she could do any good protecting him.

And yet despite all the action being taken, he was rotting away in his bed, unable to make himself useful to anyone. The only dragon that seemed to be free from their duties at times was Harlow, but why would he want to be around the dragon that didn't even want this war to happen.

It wasn't fair, he deserved to be the hero, countless hours of combat training and spellwork had been poured into these very moments. But there was Harlow, being out with the city, earning all the praise he so badly craved.

Enough was enough, He had to do something to be useful. But what he was about to do, he knew his father would not approve of.

Fell sat up from his position on the bed, looking around for a brief moment before fully deciding to get up. The prince's quarters were quite dark, all four of its walls were painted a shade of black that was almost as dark as his own scales.

He had many weapons made by his grandfather hung by hooks on his walls, daggers, long swords, even an axe sat proudly overlooking the entire room.

Other than his collection of arms, Fell had also grown quite fond of reading like his father. Many bookshelves had begun to take up space in his room, particularly filled with Aeshimian history that had piqued his interest.

As of late you could ask him any questions on Aeshima's royal bloodlines, gods, and six sons, and he would have the answer.

As he made it to the large steel double doors of his quarters, he hesitated, his talons only inches away from the handle. Looking behind him, the long sword made of hades ore gazed back at him.

I don't know what or who is going to be up there,

I should just..

In one swift motion, Fell swiped the breathtaking sword off his wall. Holding its hilt in his talons, he turned it over to see his name written in ancient Aeshimian runes. His grandfather had such a way with blade craftsmanship. It was one of the most beautiful weapons he had ever laid eyes on to this day.

He then took his strappings for the sword. It would be held in place on his back, so he could move about easily, otherwise it was almost impossible if you weren't fighting airborne.

Sliding the black shoulder straps on, he adjusted the belt around the bottom of his wings with the help of magic. The purple vapor tugged and secured each clip and strap accordingly, the final step was now to place the sword in its sheath.

Fell held the grip of the longsword tightly in his right hand before reaching over his shoulder, sliding it into the stiff hide sleeve that awaited a blade. The snaps over the guard did themselves up lightly, so if he pulled hard enough to use the sword they would undo.

Ah, Aeshimian craftsmanship, made with quality and convenience.

Pulling the door open with haste, he emerged into the hallway, noticing that his sister had left her door open just enough for him to see her journal laying open on the bed.

He wondered what or who she was writing about, but those thoughts were quickly replaced with thoughts of the task at hand. Finishing the mission the soldiers on the surface could not, maybe then he would be recognized for his initiative.