Prologue: The Death of a Dragonlord

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The horse stops just short of the ridge, allowing its rider to look out over the small village below with contempt. The little community teems with peasants, all of them heading in the direction of their homes so they can make it in time for supper. None notice the king watching them from up above, his posture regal while a red cape billows in the wind behind him. Even from a distance Uther Pendragon can see the man he's been searching for. There, walking down the path, holding the hand of a young boy with a wicker basket, is the dragonlord. The last of them all. With a scowl Uther kicks his horse, pulling on the reins to turn it around as he sets off towards the village.

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The little boy hums happily to himself as he skips down the dirt paths, keeping a firm hold on the small basket filled with apples his father had entrusted him with. He looks down at the fruits and smiles, wondering whether his mother would be happy with the ones he had picked out. He had made sure to find the shiniest and juiciest looking apples just for her. His mother loves apples and he's sure she'll love the ones he picked!

"Come on, Merlin," his father says from a short distance in front of him, a hand outstretched in his direction. "We don't want to make your mother wait do we?" Merlin nods, quickly dashing up to hold his father's hand as the man leads them towards their home.

Before they've even reached the house the door opens. Hunith looks out, smiling at her son and husband as they appear down the path. Merlin spots her first and with a blinding smile on his face races towards the house. "Mum! We're home!" he shouts as he jumps into his mother's waiting arms.

Hunith chuckles at her son's energy then plants a gentle kiss on his forehead. "Welcome home my boy," she says with a smile.

"Look! Look!" Merlin holds out the basket in front of him, "We picked apples!"

Hunith peers into the basket only to find it relatively empty save for a single fruit. "Merlin... were you eating on your way home again?" she chides.

The boy first looks at her in surprise then down into the basket in his hands. "Ah! They're gone!" he turns around, "Papa! The apples went poof!"

Balinor laughs as he walks up to his family, numerous apples cradled in his arms. "They're right here, Merlin," he says, showing the fruits to the boy, "they didn't go poof."

"Papa! The apples are for mum! You can't take them!" The boy whines as he reaches for the apples in his father's arms.

Balinor laughs, taking the basket from the boy's hands before placing the fruit gently in. "I didn't take them. You dropped them when you ran over to your mother."

"Oh..." Merlin looks down a little shyly, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt as his face flushes red, "Oops. I'm sorry."

Hunith giggles then pats the boy's head. "Let's go inside. Dinner's ready!" She says cheerfully as she carries her son into the house with Balinor following behind them.

Hunith sets Merlin down on the ground once they're inside, telling him to go wash up before dinner. The boy nods then rushes towards the bucket of water in the back of the house, again, humming to himself happily.

Balinor watches Merlin dash off with a smile before setting the basket down on one of the side tables. He slumps down on the bench, listening contently at his son's off tune humming. "I wish I still had that much energy," Balinor says, looking to Merlin. 

Hunith chuckles, setting the bowls of stew down on the table. "Now don't say that. You're still young. Plenty of time ahead of you."

Balinor laughs, but it's soon cut off when he catches something peculiar out of the corner of his eyes. He turns to find that there's a bucket of water floating about in the back of the room. The water sloshes wildly back and forth but none of its contents spill out. Instead they hang where they are, suspended in the air. "Merlin!" Balinor says, raising his voice.

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