A War of Queens

The Mourning Queen: Part 11: The Prince and his Dragon

The walk to the Hill of Gemma was a mundane and unending one from the comforts of the castle, but it was refreshing all the same as the ocean's breeze spread its fingers across the inner courtyard of Solana. The sun began to set across the horizon, its golden touch sliding on the surface of the Solyssa Ocean. It was a stunning sight to behold, and he recalled the story of how the Brave Princess Lyxārah had raced her two cousins at her own instigation, Princes Nerexes Gold and Daran Helioserys to Sol Island and back. How he yearned to see the days when a great peace was known in Solaureus and enjoyed by all no doubt.

That was an untoward thought that had plagued his mind for days now. Ever since the Green Festival, Dayron had known that a war was like to begin sooner than late, something that his father had so effortfully tried to avert. The storm would soon break, but who would be there to see the sun rise again once it was all settled? He knew death would soon follow and mayhaps more death after that as well. So were the ways of war and after the Battle of the Orange Fields. He was exhausted; too exhausted to face battle again or so much as to commit things that sometimes haunted his dreams in the middle of the night. However, no matter how heavy the thought of battle was, he knew he ought to stare it in its blackened eyes for the glory of his blessed blood.

For children of the sun we are, and so it must be that we guard all it has given us.

He wore a brown leather upper garment with black tunics underneath, and black braies. The leather had worn out and creased over the years it had been worn, but an attire most suited for the occasion Dayron had thought. Tied about his shoulders was a black lace

Blacks ought to keep the stains away from sight.

Each step he took further down the cobble-path became ever more tiring as he dragged the heavy sack along with him. It was easy to conjure up a lie at will when he needed it. "Animal remains from the kitchens I wish to feed to the dragon," he had kept it simple, and part of it was truly spoken. The whole lot of them was easy to fool, all except the squire of Rhoan.

Though the boy seemed as nigh a fool as the Tickler, he was sharp enough to notice the excess amount of blood stains smudged all over. "It smells too fresh to have been in the kitchens," he had told Dayron.

"All the better should we not want for stomach issues, do you not think?"

"Mayhaps we ought to take this to Lord Rhoan for inspection. I was informed to return to him should anyone of the royal family be up and about at this hour. You know what the queen had commanded. No one is to leave the city while preparations are being made."

To that Dayron drew a long smile on his face and laughed just enough for the squire of Rhoan to take a step back. "I have heard the crying of Goliath as of late," he whispered into the ear of the young boy, holding him tightly on the shoulder. "He seems to be lonely. Should I hear that you've run along to Lord Rhoan or anyone for that matter; the Queen, a knight, a lover, anyone who may have heard my whereabouts this evening, I shall ensure that the dragon gets his company."

That had been that and the squire of House Wyvern complied as faint drops of sweat ran fiercely down his temples. All he said was "as my prince commands," and that had secured Dayron's confidence that he might keep his perfectly carved mouth sealed about the matter.

Pink petals followed the stream of soft gusts when he reached the top of the Hill of Gemma where Goliath had been sleeping, but the sudden scent of his master had woken him and one would almost say that he was excited to see Dayron just as a hound would to his master. His bronze scales captured the essence of the evening sky; deep pools of bronze and gold that resembled much of Dayron's own eyes and hair colour.