*The finished version of the short story. I uploaded the preview a few months back which is now superseded by this. any feedback is appreciated. *

This short story is also set within an area of worldbuilding I have set up which, I plan on making further stories in.

Awakening Of Lirto

Content Warnings for: Death, Gore/Blood, Vomit, Foul Language.

Italics Outline Internal Dialogue, Bold Italics Outline Invasive Internal Dialogue (Foreign mind).

Your struggles and suffering will forge your path

Those words spun and repeated in his mind even after so many years. He could not shake them. While they were true, they were not the whole picture. A half-truth based on the negatives. Lirto regarded. His dad had been pessimistic and miserable in the last years before he had left home, he'd spilt those words upon Lirto during that time. But out here, those envenomed words won't reach me.

A harsh jolt pushed him from his thoughts. The horse he was on had stumbled and slowed its pace. Its head sagged and he could hear the accelerated, laborious breaths. The turf upturning under the weight of its steps. It was a brown Palfrey known for being nimble on its hooves. Chosen to transport Lirto and his assets to Rupes' fort for the finalization of his Grand Knight training and had been going strong until now. Luckily for you little horse, you can rest soon as we are nearly there.

Up ahead the narrow path which was lined by trees opened up into a clearing. The lone mountain in the North once again becoming visible in the gap, reaching beyond the scattered clouds. Snow rested on its distant peak. The Lanver mountain range stood off to the west still obscured by the forest. It would be visible soon. A sight worthy of awe. An occasional clang or jingle of metal emanated from behind Lirto. Armor and equipment chaffing on the back of the horse. On the horizon, in the shadow of the mountain, the silhouette of the grey stoned keep rose. He tapped the stirrups and gripped the worn leather reign as he rocked back slightly, the Palfrey picking up pace. Lirto's hair ruffled and he smelt traces of smoke on the southernly breeze.

A short while later after he had dismounted and his horse had been catered to. A crowd had gathered around him. The booming chant of their voices echoed in the air as he pushed through the crowd, heavy hands caressed and slapped his shoulders in congratulatory celebration. Lirto could see the Fort fully now. Its demanding, solitary grey outline among the wall of green that was the surrounding forests. It loomed just over the head of his comrades who cheered for him. He was finally here. The last 2 years of training had led up to this moment. Ecstatic with joy, the chants around him were no more than mumbles competing for clarity. "Slay the beast" pierced one voice, clearer than others over the mess of noise. Lirto's blonde though slightly ginger hair flowed while a gust of wind blew through the crowd. However, the breeze provided no respite from the assault of the foul stench of the hundreds of worn soldiers surrounding him. His nose wrinkled at the smell. Fatigue on many faces and the salt of their sweat almost palpable on his tongue. His skin, once a slightly tanned white tone, had long since turned greasy and brown from the mass of bodies surrounding him.

The vivid energy from the crowd was intoxicating and overwhelming. Losing his thoughts in the bank of fog. Mysterious hands dragged Lirto and the towering mass of stone sat on its mound of dirt neared ever closer. Rupes' Fort finally stood right before him. The regional Fort of Tarapae. Its immense dark grey walls contrasting the blue sky and the distant white mountain peak, four of the towers in the corners of its walls punching higher yet, one still hidden. A great oak gate imbued with thick, scratched metal bands lay in the face of the Fort, sparkling slightly from the high sun, blocky protrusions of the gatehouse straddling it. Thrice as high as a man, the gate gradually swung open with a deafening groan, light spilling from its center as it split. Voices ceased around him, drowned out. Hair on his arms and neck stood on edge and a chill washed down his spine. Intrepidation fell upon Lirto for what the day ahead held in store. From the space that the gate had occupied, a silhouette emerged adorned in fine Light blue robes. It was closely followed by several guards. The men formed a path through the crowd as the figure in the robes approached with slow strides, passing through the crowd, men on either side bowed at his presence. Upon reaching Lirto, the robed man reached a handshake to him.

"Welcome to Rupes' Fort, Knight Lirto. I am your host, Fort Commander Nathar." He announced.

Lirto could see the white albeit slightly tanned Commander Nathar stood in front of him. Dark brown hair flickering in the breeze and a stubby injured nose stood over a well-trimmed beard. The man was from a more northern reach due to his complexion, analysed Lirto. Scars covered various areas of the commander's body. Advancing a step, Nathar's sheathed sword swung at his waist, its tip brushing the grass. He also noted the strangely scared fingertips in regular parallel lines on Nathar's extended hand. Mimicking Nathar's gesture, he grasped the hand and embraced it with a firm grip. The foreign hand felt rough and ribbed against Lirto's skin.

Advancing his gaze upwards but still looking slightly downwards. Lirto locked with Nathar's intense stare and his beady, hazel bloodshot eyes surveying the knight stood before him assessing. Paying particular attention to Lirto's heavily muscled build and to his scarred, hairless hands and arms. Sweat licked at Lirto's palms. Retreating a step, perturbed by the gaze. Lirto opened his mouth to speak, however, Nathar boomed to the silent crowd

"It is not every day that one kills a dragon, but it is rarer a day that a man becomes a Grand Knight!"

Upon the finish of his words, cheers, jeers and shouts erupted from the energetic crowd. Silence was quickly restored with the raising of the commander's arm.

"A small feast has been arranged in anticipation of Lirto's arrival and achievement of becoming a Grand Knight, all while having the honour of killing a dragon." Continued Nathar, addressing the crowd.

With that, the commander promptly slipped back into the ranks of his guards and disappeared into the mass. Heading towards the gatehouse. Bells echoed across the courtyard of the Fort and onto the gathering of men outside of the Fort's vast walls. A face turned to Lirto.

It announced "That is our cue to lunch, sir."

The crowd slowly started to surge towards the open gates of the fort and the face disappeared into the masses. The murmur of hundreds of men started again. Wet flesh and cold metal pressed against Lirto on all sides. Claustrophobia loosely tormenting him.

The trampled dirt that had kicked up a fine dust that dried his mouth, turned to worn stone slabs underfoot as he stumbled towards the gate, encircled by the warm mass of bodies. The vast grey wall engulfed the sunlight. Two large portcullis hung from the ceiling at either end of the gatehouse akin to giant metal spiders awaiting prey. Boots echoed off the walls with a thunderous force. Squinting, the sun bright in his eyes as he emerged out of the far end of the gatehouse. Adjusting to the light he pushed his way out of the mass. Moving left free of the bodies, Lirto observed his surroundings as the smell of the soldiers faded. Dozens of people were dotted around the bailey of the Fort attending to tasks. Stables were between him and another gatehouse slightly across the Fort from him. The occasional whinny of a horse just audible. Focusing his gaze right. In the centre of the bailey was a large indent in the ground. A few soldiers were sparing around a thick stone pillar. Further on, two great stone buildings stood against the bailey's wall, of which he had noted there were 5 that formed the defensive structure. The furthest building was considerably taller and slightly larger in width it's central open gate, that was where the collection of soldiers were meandering towards. That must be the keep. I should probably go there. Lirto considered.

A slow trek through the bailey later Lirto squished against the bodies of soldiers again as he merged with them filtering into the gateway of the keep. Guards ahead stood alert. Scanning over the soldiers entering the keep. They gradually got closer with each step. Echoes of festivities erupted in bursts from the interior of the keep. The smell of smoke and food lightly wisped in the air. Hunger panged in his stomach as images of food floated into his mind. The food smells good, when did I last eat? A firm hand fell on his shoulder rousing him from his brief daydream.

"Sir, you need to come with us," A deep voice stated from behind.

Lirto realised it was a guard and two more were approaching.

"I will follow you, but why do I need to be escorted?" questioned Lirto.

"We are showing you to your seat. Knight Lirto-" a second voice from behind stated "-you are the guest of honour" another finished.

Four guards? Why so many?

Lirto responded "Then show the way."

The grasp of a hand slipped from his shoulder and they led him down a side passage.

Sometime later, after he had lost count of the steps. The boots still clacked resonating down the stone passage as the guards' armour chinked and shifted. Stone after stone slab they had passed. The smell of smoke tickled his lungs, evidence of the source of the lighting in the otherwise dark passageways.

"This is another way to the hall for the feast. We don't have to go through the mush pit this way" informed one guard, "it gets you closer to your seat too."

"Thank you," Lirto replied.

A guard enquired "So, where do you come from?"

"I'm from a little ways north of here" -nearly tripping on an uneven slab, he continued- "a village called Saximaw."

"Ah and guessing from the state of your hands and arms you were a smithy's boy too?" A guard behind him quipped "After all a farmhand's arms don't end up with scars quite like that."

Lirto responded "Yes, fire and molten metal have a signature bite."

"How long were you a blacksmith for then?" Questioned another guard who was behind him.

"Around 8 years. I started learning when I was 10. After which I joined the military" stated Lirto.

The group slowed to a halt next to a door which appeared out of the shadows of the passageway. One guard moved to the door and opened it. Lirto cringed at the sudden blast of noise as the festivities made themselves known, after which he and the other 3 remaining guards then passed through the doorway. His hair getting caressed by the short archway.

The vastness of the hall engulfed them akin to a great beast's maw. Vivid smells of food floated on the air. Laughter and music roared in a deafening fashion. Tables and chairs sprawled throughout the length of the hall. Men and the occasional woman filled the expanse like spilled sand, their heads visible in the massive tangle of bodies. Glittering of light bouncing off armour betrayed the numerous guards stationed along the walls, the maroon emblem of Lezuria just visible on some of their chest plates. Stained windows coloured the room, while braziers fought the dark from the corners and confines. Smokey wisps danced on the ceiling making banners gently ripple in their wake. A skillfully embroidered emblem of Lezuria, present on each. Food of varying types lined the long tables dotted on numerous plates splattered randomly like wet paint. In the expanse of food was a great variety to suit any person's taste. A few emptied jugs already littered the space around the plates. Alcohol-fueled laughter already audible.

Chicken, pork, breads and mead. The thought permeated his mind through sight and smell. A slow rumble sounded through Lirto. Sourced from his stomach, while saliva wetted his lips. Swallowing to avoid drooling at the sight before him. The temptress of the food and mead need not work hard to entice him.

"Lirto... hello?" a guard woke him from his food-induced trance "Are you ready to come to your seat yet?"

Dumbstruck from the daze, Lirto responded "Yes. That would be good"

The Guard pointed out the raised platform at the closest end of the tables. It was a stubby, boxy shape with a table at its front. A few chairs in the centre and a flight of stairs at the back. A wood handrail circled the top. Shuffling towards the platform. Feet scuffing the stone. Thoughts of food weighed on his mind as much as the weight of it would on his body after eating. How long did I ignore that guard? It's silly to get caught up like that. Scalding himself for his loss of awareness. That was a daft mistake to make. His head tilted back as he glanced up at the platform above himself, the wood steps at his feet. Nathar's outstretched hand beckoned Litro's grasp as he pulled him up the creaky steps.

Nathar announced "Welcome to where royalty stand" Confidence and pride laced in his words "Today that means myself and you. Remember to smile on your subjects from here"

"Thank you" Stammered Lirto, having to raise his voice to hear his own words.

"As you are the guest of honour and this is a special occasion. I have requested that you be served Draven Ribs" Boasted Nathar.

What is Draven? I've never heard of it before.

He Questioned "Draven? What is that?"

"Draven is a delicacy. The food of royalty. An especially difficult meat to supply" Stated Nathar.

Lirto, manoeuvring around Nathar, grabbed the back of his seat and moved to get seated. A grand rack of ribs sat upon a plate that dwarfed any other he had seen before. Demanding his attention. Juices glistened on the brown, seared flesh, a glow radiating from it. Broad cut blackened bones poked out the edges of the meat, giving it structure.

"Don't worry about the glow it has. All cursed beasts have meat which glows when you cook it" affirmed Nathar.

"Cursed beasts?" Queried Lirto

"Cursed beasts, which you may know as the acrruded, are abominations which have strayed from Fenoth. They are to be hunted and culled to appease Fenoth. Like the dragons we are eradicating. Be careful though as they are strong and men make whispers of them having witchcraft or dark powers." Warned Nathar "Though I would say the witchcraft bit is from soldiers with damaged egos after losing a fight against some dumb beast. Who are too embarrassed to admit it and spread it at taverns with loose lips."

Rumours of witchcraft? No wonder they are being hunted.

"Ah. The acrruded, I did not realise they were real. I just thought they were creatures in stories. Not that I'm expected to have to deal with such things, right?" Responded Lirto

Nathar confirmed "It is no role of yours. You are right. Your job as an upcoming Grand Knight will be to act as a force of power against heretics and rebel groups. To crush them if they will not concede to the Caust and our royalty. There are many nomads as well as a non-believer group in the Northern reaches. I assume you will be sent there. But this is nothing a smart man like you does not already know though"

Lirto glanced at Nathar. Movement catching his eye. The commander raised a rib from his plate balanced between his hands it was comically large. Guess that's the end of that conversation. Attention back to his own plate Litro pulled a rib free from the rack raising it to take a bite. Juices and torn flesh attacked his mouth. Flavour running rampant. The textures varied but it mainly melted in his mouth and the taste was unique but uncanny. It almost tastes like I'm eating venison. It's delicious. There's a strange feeling in my mouth though. Like a fire without the heat... radiance. His Jaws didn't ache from chewing but instead felt energised and rejuvenated with every bite. Looking over the end of his table people were sprawled the length of the hall sharing food, drink and talk. Luckily Lirto had gone deaf to the once thunderous room as his ears had adjusted by now. Though he was starting to feel connected to the people in the room, invisible roots touching them all. A warm buzz came over him and a smile formed on his lips. Their joy and celebration was palpable it was a truly bizarre sensation. The feelings of the people in the hall affecting him as if they were his own. Even the wood handrail of the platform around him seemed to call to him, craving for his word. An intricate pattern of swirls carved into its surface. It was fascinating and if he had told it to move he was sure it would, as if he now controlled it with some new unseen power.

Craving another bite, Lirto's attention swerved back to his plate. There was so much more he was aware of now. He felt connected to everything around him, as if tethered to it all. It must be this food, that is what has to be causing this sensation. Right? A heavy weight pulled on the edge of his consciousness. Joy sapped away from him, his smile fading. He shivered as cold washed over him and the colour sapped from the room. A ringing growing in his ears.

Another distant presence invaded his mind. Heavy and nauseating. Smoke filled Lirto's nostrils. An intense scent of recent fire. Thick and sooty. Sharp pains and agony flowed deep into his body. His vision fogged and faded. A dragon appeared through the mist. Small and grey. It was the only thing visible and a void of grey swirled behind it. Its foreign presence flowed into his thoughts. _ Help me, it hurts. _ The agonised words echoed through the fog. The vision and sensations started to fade, the hall once visible again.

What the fuck was that? Was that a dragon? But it was so small? His lungs burned and screamed for oxygen. His eyes raced along his now raised arms scanning. No blood or injuries were present. He no longer felt the weight of any foreign presence. Clarity had also been restored. I don't think that was the food this time. Why did I see a dragon? His pulse quickened, and hair on the back of his neck shot up, an involuntary gasp for air, he had not been breathing. The tinnitus in his ears ceased. Stomach still spinning and a throb in his head, his appetite lost.

Nathar gave a confused stare at him. "Are you alri..."

A roar filled the hall. Vibrations running wild throughout the keep. Lirto's whole body rocked. Drinks dropped from hands and shattered. People fell. After a few seconds, it stopped. Silence was all that was left in the vast room. So many people and so many items, but only pure silence had been left. Not a word or a whisper, not the pluck of a string or the smash of a fallen glass. Nothing. Bewildered faces shared glances across the room.

"DEATH TO THE DRAGON! " A sole voice shouted in the hall. Shattering the proxy authority of silence.

Voices numerous in number all cheered in agreement. Silence banished in the hall. Festivities resumed. The energy flowing vividly again. The noise all returned, feeling louder than ever. Encroaching Lirto on all sides slowly crushing him and his blood ran cold through his veins. A tightness in his chest as if wearing a slim corset. Can I really kill that dragon?

After all the excitement of the feast had blown over, Lirto approached the gate of the keep, the half-light shrouding him. The hall had been left empty from what he had seen now that the feast was finished. Everyone must already be waiting outside. He pondered. Metal shone in the archway ahead. Well, maybe not everyone then. 4 guards stood ahead at the entrance to the keep. The reflections shifted on their armour as he passed them and he recognised their faces. Ah the same poor sods from earlier.

"What mischief have you lot done to deserve to miss out on all the excitement of the day?" Teased Lirto.

Silence and dull expressions was all that Lirto received back. What a cheerful bunch. The bright outdoors welcomed him as he entered the bailey, the black walls of the fort still surrounding him. He looked over to the sparring pit in the centre of the bailey. Hundreds of bodies all stood in a circle around the solitary stone pillar. They won't have to wait much longer. Lirto retorted to himself. He started to march over, feet unsteady at first, still filled with uncertainty.

A split in the crowd formed as he neared. Hollers, hoots and cheers all audible in mass. Faces stared at him, awe and envy planted upon them, Lirto raised his chin and smiled. Ahead he saw Nathar waiting for him. Two people lingered behind him dressed in dark red robes which covered all parts of their bodies, not an inch of skin visible. One of the figures had brown bands on sleeves where his arms must have been. Hoods covered their faces, obscuring them from view. A rattle emanated from beyond the robed individuals, where the stone pillar towered over their heads. The grey spire stabbing the sky. Occasional clangs of metal came from the same area, becoming more audible as the crowd began to quiet. Lirto stopped a few paces in front of Nathar as the commander moved to speak.

"Lirto, I'm glad to see you finally made it here. I would have hated for you to have gotten lost." said Nathar.

"Thank you" Answered Lirto "A map would definitely be appreciated for tomorrow"

"I will see to that" Nathar's voice shaky, seemingly caught off guard "Here, behind me will be your two witnesses from the Caust. Priest Rikard-" Nathar pointed to the robed man with the brown arm bands which sat at what must have been elbow height "-and his acolyte. They are here to confirm the killing of the dragon and your affirmation of Grand Knight to their higher powers."

"It is good to meet you Priest. I am honoured to have you watching over my ceremony" Lirto directed towards the Robed man.

Silence persisted from the hooded figure.

"Here, take this sword to kill it. However, I would spare the mercy of giving it a quick death. Give these two a show and let it bleed first." The icy words coming from Nathar. "You know how the Caust likes to impress Fenoth with their blood shows"

Glancing toward Nathar's hip as he drew a Longsword from his sheath. Nathar handed it over to Lirto. His eyes scanned over the weapon. Gold highlights to grey metal ran along the pummel and back of the handguard. Rough leather was woven around the grip. Lines ran along the edges of the blade's fuller and spirals were etched within the lines. He raised it while placing both hands on the grip. A very pretty sword, probably just ceremonial though. He mused. It was large, standing at somewhere around 50 inches. A large sword for a small man. Lirto chuckled silently to himself. Nathar cross-stepped to the left side. A large opening visible now beyond where he had once stood and a wall of men defined an inner circle, Lirto stepped into it.

"When you are ready to kill it, strike its neck or thrust into its chest" Nathar's voice sounded from over his shoulder.

The noise of the crowd grew again, but not with their previous joy, instead replaced by shouts of profanity and hate. The once quiet clanging noise, now sharp and loud out in the open. It was distinctly metallic. Attention shifting to the source. Lirto saw a small grey dragon laid on its side next to the stone pillar. It was no bigger than a man. Greys of various hues ran in lines along its scales and light grey scales covered its exposed underside. It is so small. A frown formed on Lirto's face. When they said a dragon I expected something challenging. Not some runt. Staring at it again, he noticed that chains and binds ran along its body and limbs. A metal muzzle covering its jaw and a slack chain ran from it to the stone pillar. Black stains caked the metal of the muzzle and areas of the chains along its body. Liquid wetted the dusty ground underneath the dragon. The membrane of its wings were sliced, laced with large lazily placed cuts. Wounds ran along the creature's body and limbs, ragged damaged flesh beneath the scales. Dried blood around the cuts, though some fresh blood still oozed. Deep crimson contrasting pure grey scales. Restraints coated in a mix of mud and blood bound its ankles. Further down, the dragon's mangled knuckles abruptly ended in bloodied pits, void of any claws. This looks like it will be more of a mercy killing than any actual fight. Lirto concluded, anger flaring.

Rocks skipped off the ground near the dragon. Thrown by the mob around them. It occasionally flinched when a projectile made contact, causing the chains to rattle, but few actually got close enough. Lirto paced toward the dragon. 20 meters, 15 meters, rocks now ceased to be thrown. 10 meters and silence had consumed any trace of profanity or angered shouts. Anticipation fizzled among the crowd. He watched the rise of the dragon's chest and its inevitable fall. In and out like the bellows of a forge. Vibrations ran along its hide. An eyelid twitched open and an eye stared back at him. A dark grey iris contrasting the brilliant white and a dull yellow ring around its pupil. Déjà vu tickled his mind. Lirto turned to search the crowd for Nathar and spotted him next to the robed priest, near where he had come from.

"Nathar!" Lirto shouted as his eyes locked with the commander's. Anger trailing on his words "What is this? I was promised a fight and to kill a dragon. Not to euthanize some creature already on death's door!"

"Watch your words" Hissed Nathar.

"Look at the size of it! You may as well have given me some puny lizard from the uncut grass along the edge of your walls!" Retorted Lirto.

Nathar, an expression of darkness cast on his face, Irately stated "You will kill that beast. No matter what condition it is in, as it has been commanded of you. This is no tall tale where you kill some mighty dragon, no. You are here within my walls and will kill that creature or face the consequences."

Defeated, Lirto turned back to the dragon. I better get this over with, otherwise it will be me on the chopping block. He elevated his sword and slowly paced towards the dragon. He was closer now and examined the dragon again. It must be a young one surely. I cannot explain its small size otherwise. Legs bent, he widened his stance. Sword extended out in front of him. Steel death scratching the blue sky as he brought it into its raised position. Pommel just brushing his thigh.

The dragon scrambled to its feet, chains rattling wildly. Harsh clinks sounded as the chains pulled taut between its legs in an attempt to shuffle backwards. Its legs pulled out from under itself, causing it to collapse into a heap on the floor. Lirto sidestepped to the left around its head, raised the sword high above his head. Don't worry little one, I will make this quick. You have suffered enough. Angle now right, he pulled his sword down. Aiming for its neck. Pressure welled in his head, silent words spoke in his mind. Please don't hurt me, I just want to go home. Resistance on his sword, a distant warped clang as it hit the ground and kicked up dust. A painful pressure bursting in his head, his skull threatening to crack open from the force. His head throbbed wildly and his vision was blinded by a red mist. An intense feeling sliced him, ear and neck ran hot with pain, a blade through his own flesh. An agonised scream echoed in his head, whose it was he was uncertain. The only certain thing was the pain and the scream that deafened his ears, feeling like they would burst any second. Then it fell to silence.

He opened his eyes, the red mist rapidly fading. The pressure in his head and ears also subsiding. In the dust beside him, lay the sword. Bright crimson along its tip dribbling onto the ground and gold glittering on the hilt. What happened? His hands groped his ear and neck, only smooth skin was felt, no warmth except clammy sweat. Good, that is not my blood then. Contrast to the wound he felt split his flesh. A muffled, whiney squeal off to his right. Lirto looked up, the dragon was crumpled in the dirt, thick blood running down the side of its head and neck. I missed, shit. I am so sorry. It continued to whimper and whine. Blood pulsing from its wounds, half its ear left sliced on the right side of its head and a deep cut ripped through its neck. On the floor, blood puddled around the rest of the ear. Grey had fogged over the dragon's once yellow and dark grey iris.

Bile pooled in his mouth, stands of vomit dribbling between his lips. Remnants of the tremors in his stomach, aggravated by such sudden pain. No more, I'm done. Watching the dragon, déjà vu gripped his mind once again. Recognition clicked. Wait, that's the dragon I saw earlier. How did it get here? Lirto shuffled over to the dragon's snout and slumped to the floor. I'm sorry I've only hurt you further. He wrapped his arms around its jaw and head. The metal muzzle obstructing him partially, cold on his skin, just as cold as the smooth but bumpy scales on the dragon's jaw. Hot air ran up his arms and tickled his hair under the rugged breaths of the dragon. Slower than earlier, almost peaceful. He looked into its eyes but glossy grey eyes stared back, seeing nothing.

"Little one, I am so sorry for what's happened to you" Lirto murmured through watered eyes.

His hand reached further back and ran along the wet edge along the dragon's neck, arm brushing against the desecrated ear. Warm blood coating him. A hard object slammed into his arm. Lirto glanced towards his arm and saw a rock bounce onto the ground. A discontented rumble arose around him. Another rock bounced off the back of the dragon and a third skipped to a stop at his feet. More projectiles came shortly after, a shower of hard stones. Looks like judgement has come for us little one. Rapid foot-falls faded into hearing. Coming from behind. Pain exploded in his back. A boot digging deep. Lirto jolted forward, contorted onto the head of the dragon. Wind ripped from his lungs.

"Filthy beast lover" words scalded from behind.

Retching from the direction of the words and warm slime landed on Lirto's neck. It slowly dribbled down his back as he gasped for air. His head still pressed against the metal, the strong scent of iron slipped into his nostrils, thick as the coagulated crimson on the floor. He could hear more people approaching, obscenities and profanity thick in their words, getting louder. Feral hatred sparking in the air. Figures flickered on the edges of his vision or at least the parts which weren't blocked out by the dragon's head. Another boot wedged into his right side. His ribs shifting upwards at the brutal force. Winding him further. Lirto lay in the dust. Kicked to the floor. Dirt jumped into his eyes and mouth from his sudden collapse, partially blinding him.

The whining of the dragon grew louder in his ears, as a rhythmic thumping grew. Tears streamed from Lirto's eyes, from the throbbing in his side and to get the dirt out of his eyes. Looking back out at the dragon, it's whining now clear. Soldiers swarmed around it. Kicking at it, boots bouncing off its body. A short glint of sunlight caught his eye in the mass. The dragon suddenly spasmed, a loud cry released from its jaws. The chains rattled and shook, catching a soldier who dropped to the floor. A flicker of light again in the periphery of his vision, catching his attention. Fixing in on the light. A seax visible, blood coating its edge. It promptly slipped from view as another cry escaped the dragon. It did not move far this time. It must be pinned. Lirto thought to himself as the air came back to his lungs. It's squirming still visible, scales shifting over its bulging muscles. Lirto looked at the dragon's face, clear liquid washed from its clouded blind eyes.

Metal flashed in Lirto's face. A lengthy blade obscuring his vision, uncomfortably close. Condensation of Lirto's breath dulling the blade's shine, he looked up. A ferocious face smirked down at him behind a gold touched handguard. Grime lathered on their skin with a thin coating of dust. Patchy, stubbled hair on his chin. Thirst glinting on their eyes. Lirto shifted his weight, in an effort to shuffle away from the offending sword. Seeing this, his heavy boot fell on Lirto's left hand. Pain writhed in his crushed fingers. Lirto struggled in an attempt to free his hand, pain spiking with each twist and turn. A shrill whistle sounded from the man towering over him. Lirto's gaze shifted upwards, away from his trapped hand.

"That's right. Look up at me worm-" The hoarse voice of the man taunted. "-I'll spill your blood like that nasty thing behind me" the last few words weeping malice.

The weight of the boot shifted off Lirto's hand, he glanced down and went to move. Catching a brief glance of the man's other boot and it hurtled towards his body. Impacting Lirto's chest, sending him flying onto his back. Before Lirto could gather himself, let alone attempt to breathe from the blow, the man stomped down on his left hand again. Pain sparked as the faint crack of bone slipped from under the boot. Lirto looked out over his body, while his stomach churned from the agony. A crimson drop fell, glistening into clarity on Lirto's stomach. The sword held above him, dragon blood glistening along its tip. Coldness iced up Lirto's veins, the sword starting to inch towards his body. A muted giggle escaping the lips of the man above him. Lirto scanned the feverish mess of bodies around him. No-one was going to notice him, let alone help him. All of them consumed by the frenzy of beating the dragon. The blade was now barely hovering over Lirto's skin. Just below his ribs. He frantically tried to move, but his left hand refused to budge. Still Pinned. A sharp discomfort on his stomach, the sword finally against his skin. His head snapped to look at it. Dragon blood seeped off the blade's tip, staining his clothes. Time was up.

Envenomed words slipped from the man above Lirto "This is going to be fun... Shame that priest is not here to watch me rend your flesh." A harsh laugh escaped him. "But anyways, so much for you being such a grand knight. I expected better"

The sword pressed into Lirto's skin, pressure building. Threatening to slice him clean open. Bloodlust slathered on the face of the man towering above him. Lirto pulled on his hand again, desperate to escape. His body shifted under the force, agony sparking from his hand and the shuffle of splintered bones. Irrelevant to the impending injury the sword dared pose. Lirto's feet skipped across the ground. He remembered his legs were free. The sword pierced his skin, a slice of searing pain. Lirto gasped, sucking dirt and dust into his mouth.

"Like that, huh?" The man taunted, afterwards murmuring "Fucking freak"

Metal crawling into his flesh, Lirto knew he had little time. He pulled his leg back and wrenched at his hand. Pain shooting through his hand and arm, He ignored it grimacing. Lirto's body contorted, the sword cutting deeper into his flesh at the movement. His leg flew round. Connecting with the back of the man's knees. It sprawled him, sending him flying into the dirt, a heap of jumbled limbs. Sword clattering near to his collapsed form. Lirto glanced at his hand, his fingers were mangled at strange angles, skin pale white. Blood flow quickly restored itself and colour returned, palm now exposing nasty black bruises. Lirto shifted his eyes, scanning his stomach. Blood dribbled from the wound down his body, nothing too serious considering the burning pain. Whether it was his blood or the dragon's that stained the top of his trousers, he did not know for certain.

Curses rippled from the collapsed man. Lirto scrambled, trying to get to his feet. He put his left hand beneath him and crumbled to the floor, his hand betraying him. Litro quickly rolled and used his right hand to lift himself, his legs brushing against the dragon's muzzle. He glanced up at the man, who was now on his feet and reaching to pick up the sword. Panic striking Lirto. But he was promptly deafened as the dragon let out a loud squeal. It lurched forward and its head fell onto Lirto's legs. Its jaw crushed his legs, pinning him down, shockingly heavy. He frantically pushed against the dragon's head with his right hand in a vain attempt to free himself. Managing only to distort the scaled hide. Lirto looked over at the man again. Sword in hand, he had gained a lot of ground, advancing quickly, mouth moving to presumably mutter further curses. Dull ringing solely present in Lirto's ears.

The man stopped within sword range of Lirto. He groped out towards the man, his crippled hand hopelessly trying to thwart a swing of the longsword. The man rapidly swatted at Lirto's hand with the flat of the blade. His hand slapped into the dragon's snout from the force, bones again shifting unnaturally. A silent yelp of pain left Lirto. Tears fogged the bottom of Lirto's vision, from pain and fear alike. A wicked smile again appearing on the face of the man, slightly wonky from the distortion of tears. His aggressor moved sharply and the sword struck out at Lirto's neck, nicking it. Just as fast, it drew back, swung out in an arc and came back. Litro braced, closing his eyes and his head was kicked back with a sharp force. The sword had missed its mark, leaving a burning rip across his left cheek. Blood pumping out, pooling on his lips and dribbling down his jaw. Lirto reached his crippled hand up to the wound, the crimson visible as he pulled it away. The sword crashed into his vision, abruptly stopping a width away from his hand. Focus changing he and saw another sword clashing against it. The man suddenly turned, throwing the gold touched sword to the floor near the dragon.

Lirto felt a hand land on his right shoulder. He turned his head to the right, following the length of the sword. Nathar stood over his right shoulder at its hilt, sword now retreating to his side. He looked at Lirto and said something, but the words were lost on his deaf ears. Lirto's dumbfounded expression must have conveyed this as Nathar promptly looked at the dragon's head. He stepped off to its side and firmly kicked the dragon's head, shifting it off of Lirto's legs. He then abruptly grabbed Lirto and pulled him up to his feet. A scorn set deep on his face as Lirto turned to face him. Nathar turned away from Lirto and he watched as Nathar flagged over Priest Rikard. Lirto looked around as the priest approached Nathar. All the soldiers were now neatly aligned back in their previous circle, the frenzy long lost on their minds from the expressions visible.

A hand waved in front of Lirto's eyes, catching his attention. He turned to face Nathar again, who pointed at Rikard. He stood just in front of Lirto. A swift hand swung from the priest's robes, landing on Lirto's ear. The crisp pain grabbing Lirto's full attention. The swish of the Priest's sleeve suddenly audible as the hand retreated, the figure turned to Nathar and nodded.

"Thank you for your help priest" Nathar stated, afterwards turning away from Lirto and shouting at the crowd "Someone detain this stupid heretic!"

Lirto froze, looking towards the crowd where a group of 3 men pushed out of ranks and into the opening. Marching towards him, they lacked armour like the rest of the soldiers watching. Though all of them were adorned in variations of brown overalls covered by patches of leather. Their march was one of silence only broken by the wheezy whines of the dragon now behind him. Sweat glistened Lirto's palms as panic rushed over him. He watched as the soldier's boots land in nigh unison, displacing dust with each footfall. Quickly advancing towards him. This is not looking good. They were now significantly closer, their stride not slowing. It had felt like minutes though it had only been seconds. The blank look on their faces easily visible. They don't look like they are enjoying this anymore than I am. I could run. The closest soldier grabbed Lirto's arm firmly. No, running won't solve this and I wouldn't get far. His other arm was promptly seized by the second soldier. The third soldier was at Lirto's back now, though the soldiers did not lead him anywhere just yet. Instead, choosing to rotate him around so they were all facing Nathar.

The soldier holding Lirto's right arm faced Nathar and asked "Commander Nathar, what would you have us with the heretic?"

"Bind his hands and have him brought to my quarters. He needs to be taught his place" Nathar answered, rage seething from between his teeth.

"As you wish Commander Nathar" The soldier responded "You heard Nathar, let's move" He reiterated to the other two soldiers.

Maybe I should have run, this really will not end well for me. The soldier behind Lirto came round in front. He motioned at someone out of Lirto's view and a fourth soldier came into vision with rope in hand. He handed off the rope to the third soldier and promptly scampered off. The soldiers holding Lirto's arms forced them together while the third soldier bound Litro's wrists, pain sharpening in his broken hand from the abrupt movements. After his wrists were bound, the soldiers holding Lirto's wrists left, leaving the final soldier in front of Lirto to move him. He tugged at Lirto's restraints, pain again shooting through his hand.

"Come on, you imbecile. Struggling won't make this easier for you, especially after what you just pulled" The soldier snarled.

With that, Lirto was pulled towards the keep. The wall of soldiers lined up that blocked their path parted to form a clearing to pass through. That's a lot of discipline compared to what they had earlier. While he was being led through the crowd, men on either side gave Lirto dirty or outright hostile stares, though they no longer dared act on their hatred. Instead, they stood fixed in formation, not willing to get caught out even if it was to attack him. Once they were clear of the soldiers, murmur and voices started to build up again, though staying quiet enough to struggle to hear. But they suddenly went quiet.

"Thank you for putting up with that disturbance to our schedule, as well as quickly and promptly returning to your positions once the chaos cleared. We will now clear up here" What was clearly Nathar's voice sounded in the quiet.

"NOW WILL SOMEONE KILL THAT FILTHY CREATURE BEFORE I HAVE TO DEAL WITH ANOTHER SECOND OF ITS EXISTENCE!" His voice once again boomed, rage clear on its syllables.

Lirto desperately attempted to turn his head to see the commotion, but it only resulted in him pulling at his restraints, whipping pain into his hand. The soldier leading him noticed this and pulled back, jerking him awkwardly and blasting further sharp pain into his hand. Lirto however, tried again, catching the full attention of the soldier, who turned to face him.

"Stop pulling at your restraints before I decide to make you comply" The soldier sneered.

The expression on the soldier's face quickly changed as his eyes focused on something behind Lirto. It shifted to that of a devious malice.

"Actually, since you want to struggle so badly to see what is going on behind you, why don't I let you watch?" A sharp cunning hovering over the soldier's words "Here let me help you watch"

The soldier let go of Lirto's restraints and just as quickly grabbed the sides of Lirto's head, violently twisting his whole body to face the crowd surrounding the pillar the dragon was chained to. Blood oozing out of the cut on his cheek onto the soldier's hand, the soldier ignored the warm crimson coating his hand and held Lirto's head firm. Lirto looked out over the mass of bodies in front of him as activity increased, men breaking from their ranks and moving towards the spire. Uncoordinated shouting and cheering becoming audible and growing louder as the seconds ran by. Movement flittered above the heads of the men in the crowd, Lirto concentrated on it. It was the head of a halberd swaying over the mass, slowly moving towards the stone pillar. No. He tried to move his head to look away, knowing what was to come, but the hands of the soldier held him with conviction.

The soldier whispered into Lirto's ear "No no, don't move now. I want you to watch your little friend die. Especially considering how much you were willing to sacrifice for it"

Lirto's eyes transfixed upon the head of the halberd as it neared ever closer to the pillar. Chanting still growing in noise, words still un-discernible but gaining a rhythm. The halberd stopped moving and raised higher in the air. Sunlight glinted off of it, screaming for attention. A quiet, sly giggle escaped the soldier holding Lirto as his grip strengthened. Silence fell as the chanting stopped. The halberd began to drop, rapidly gaining speed. A thud audible just after it sunk below the mass of bodies.

The hairs on the back of Lirto's neck raised, their tips reaching out as a shiver slid along his skin. A lonely desolate void ebbing into his mind displacing a withered draconic presence. The frost of the void breaking his thoughts like the goosebumps across his previously smooth skin. Despair swirled and twirled in the void, the motion sparkling in Lirto's paralyzed mind. The weight of the situation amplified on the frozen wasteland of his brain. Distant hands fell off Lirto's clammy cheeks, the air around him getting colder while the blood drained from his skin, a tingle spreading through his fingers. Bleeding from his wounds becoming an insignificant weeping. Such an intimate loss of life, daring to drag his with it. Distant limbs locked up as the feeling on his skin ceased, darkness gripping the edges of his vision whose input was all but a tingle. The void grasped his consciousness, pulling it down, further losing control of himself. Faster yet pulled below as an echo of a still blue sky was quickly lost in the dark. A far away sensation of falling as his consciousness finally perished.

Dull light slipped through his eyelids, cracked open just a slither. Its heat thawing his mind, melted frost replaced by a growing ache. Lirto opened his eyes further, the light briefly blinding as it poured into his eyes. Ache manifesting as skull-splitting force, readjusting for the fresh wound in his mind. Pain tore him from his daze, physical injuries ensuring they were not forgotten. Lirto looked down at his chest through half-closed eyes, dried blood caked his shirt where it had leaked out of his stab wound. He reached down with his left hand, fingers stretching out to pull the fabric away. Scolding pain erupting from his fingers as they made contact. Maybe I shouldn't touch anything. He reconsidered, the sudden snap of agony clearing the ache in his head. Looking up and focusing his attention to the unfamiliar room around him. Lirto realised he was propped up, sitting against a corner in the wall, all the while the smell of stale air with a tinge of old smoke hung to the space. In front of him was a table, its legs carved with a spiral pattern and a chair the other side, leather set upon its seat. To the right a wood door set into the stonework wall, the same as which part of him rested, and a bolt at waist height. Glancing to the left, the room came to an end nearly just as promptly as to the right. A shiny metal sconce sat upon the far wall, offset from a centrally mounted window and hard wax drooped over its lips. Further, yet a simple bare bench rested on the other wall that Lirto was propped against. Faded sunlight barely reached through the window, partially casting the interior of the room in a weak orange tint.

I've lost a lot of the day. Lirto thought to himself all while the room gradually grew darker as the light began to scrape off the stone walls, shadows looming large in the gaps between the bricks.

"Beat up, bruised and cut. To do what, save that dragon?" Lirto sarcastically joked to himself.

Shit, shit. I've fucked it all up. Realisation of the situation slowly dawning on him. This really isn't good, I just disobeyed direct orders. Wait, it's worse than that, oh no. Lirto glanced at his wrists, red welts ripped into his flesh. They had me bound. His stomach churning at the thought. What else happened... His mind span remembering the details of what had gone on. Heretic... heretic. He grasped at his forehead with his this right hand, finger brushing against his eyebrows and stared at the leg of the table in front of him. Focusing hard as his vision span and he retched, fighting to keep bile down. Visualising the image of the table leg in his mind and the details of the grain, attempting to lay his focus harder upon it. Lirto's vision crept along the table leg, scanning its intricacies and detail to distract himself. The spinning in his sight slowing. Heretic, but that means. Bile bubbled into his mouth, halted from escaping by an abruptly sweaty hand which had jumped off his forehead and clamped hard over his lips. The Bile burned the back of his nostrils as the smell wafted through the cavity, begging to temp another retch. His tongue jointly assaulted by acrid heat stabbing at the fleshy lump.

The thick wood door burst out from its hinges, immediately screaming for all attention. It swung wide and far from the stonework, crashing into the wall once it had fully rotated on its hinges. It's loose metal bolt and handle shaking and rattling with fear. A terrible boot flew through the doorway and slammed down, a light blue robe flowed aggressively behind it. Lirto gagged at the sight, bile spilling back down his throat in the process, almost forcing another gag. Nathar stood tall in the doorway, a menacing figure before the dark of the hallway behind him. He glared down at Lirto with beady hazel eyes, intensity strong enough to pull the sweat from Lirto's skin. Without breaking the gaze, Nathar fluidly closed the hardwood door. Blowing fresh air into Lirto's face, alleviating the smell of bile. Nathar navigated to the back of the table, sitting upon the chair behind it. Each footstep thunder in the silent room. He grabbed something off the table in front of him and slowly reached over to the Sconce and light flashed from its depths. The room glowed in the flickering light of fire, shadows dancing between the bricks of the walls. Glare unwavering, Nathar's face curled into a snarl, his damaged nose flaring wide and flat, unsupported by its missing tip.

"Take a seat" he growled.

Lirto swallowed, the remaining bile which had pooled at the bottom of his jaw getting washed back down. The taste and sensation causing him to grimace and fight off another retch. His clammy right hand slipped to the floor, damping the woodwork with sweat, he pushed himself to his feet. Shakily, he scooted to his left and sat on the barren bench. Coddling a wounded hand in his lap, careful to avoid further pain. All the while Lirto's feet feverishly bounced on his toes, just controlled enough so his legs didn't nudge his hand. He looked up at Nathar cautiously, preventing any direct eye contact as to not get burnt by the fiery gaze.

"Good, I am glad that you look like shit and quiver in my presence currently Lirto. And rightfully so" Nathar tormented "You have made grievous mistakes today, you will be lucky to survive this without very grave consequences"

The tapping of Lirto's feet grew quicker, the palpitations of his heart racing.

Words crept out of Nathar's grin. "Failure to follow orders, failure to kill an enemy of the state, the sabotage of a religious ritual, assaulting a soldier of the state and inciting a riot" He stopped talking for a few brief seconds.

Lirto's lungs spasmed. Breaths rapid and fluttery. In the corner of his vision, a vile, thick smile grew in the space between the hair on Nathar's face.

He continued, "All of those are major crimes and cannot go ignored or unpunished. You have put me in a seriously difficult position if you were one of my soldiers.... but you are not, so this will be easy"

The venom stopped slipping out of Nathar's and mouth he balled his fist. Raising it to shoulder height, and clenched it tight. Litro pulled himself backwards towards the shadow of the wall. Squinted his eyes and braced himself. A brutal crack of bone on wood echoed through the room. Lirto opened his eyes to see Nathar's fist on the wood of the desk. The door to the room creaked as it slipped open, fearful of further abuse. Lirto glanced over at the doorway. Priest Rikard entered the room, face still not visible shrouded by his dark red drapes. An arm sleeve reached out to the handle, the brown rings stretching as the fabric moved. The door swung closed without so much as a swing of the Priest's arm, not fully controlled by the hand behind the cloak. The Priest moved to the edge of the desk, neither closer to Nathar or Lirto, footsteps practically inaudible. A smell of death seeped into the room. The hood of the cloak turned towards Nathar and tanned hands slipped out of the arm sleeves, resting on the table. Strange tattoos ran along the ridge of his fingers which Lirto hadn't spotted earlier in the chaos all while his nose hair shrivelled.

"Nathar, am I right to assume you have filled in the heretic on the important details?" Hoarse words, cold detached, emanated from the hood of the Priest's cloak.

Nathar shyly nodded "Yes Priest, I have informed the heretic of most of the important details. The crimes, how he interrupted a religious ceremony and that serious punishment awaits." He weakly responded.

Further words from the Priest "Good, you are now to inform the heretic. That he will face the evening as a free man still, but if he survives the night, he will be punished as the Caust sees fit to repent for his injustice against Fenoth."

Nathar again nodded, though stayed silent.

"The heretic in the morning will bleed until the ground itself oozes red mud or is fertiliser for your grass. I want the heretic chained where that beast was purified." -The Priest continued- "If the heretic survives both the night and the punishment, it shall be branded and released. For Fenoth has deemed its injustices corrected."

"Your wishes shall be followed through with Priest Rikard, Fenoth shall be pleased." Nathar whimpered back.

The Priest turned, opened the door and exited. The door rattling shut once the Priest had cleared its path. Scent of death fading. Lirto looked up at Nathar, the commander's face no longer filled with anger or hate but instead pale and covered in a shiny sheen that reflected the candle light. Nathar shook his head and rubbed his face with his hands, staring back at Lirto once he had finished a few seconds later. His face regaining its molten fury.

"So Lirto, as I've been told to inform you. You are now a heretic of the state and Caust, no longer a prestigious soldier. Due to your actions, if you do not take a knife to the back while you sleep. The Priest will punish you, chained like an animal where that filthy reptile stained my training ground. You will be lucky not to join it, as I do not think Fenoth will be kind or forgiving." Nathar seethed.

"You have caused me much trouble since you arrived" Nathar remarked "This punishment will suit you well and it means I will not have to get my own hands dirty."

"Anyways. Do not run, we know where your father lives. Now go to your quarters and stay there until dawn, enjoy the night regretting that you ever came here. A soldier will take you to your accommodation. Lirto, you are now dismissed."

The squeal and creak of the door seeped into the room, betraying its opening.

A while later, Lirto waited in his quarters. It was a room sat at the back of the barracks with stone clad walls that surrounded him tightly. Mold and lichen growing in the corners near the ceiling. No candles were lit in the sconces, the wax upon them was smoothed out and rotted. Leaving an eerie dark which permeated the room along with the smell of the mold. None of his possessions had been put in the room but he had been provided some basic clothes only fit for a Scile. Battered, ripped cloths with gnaw holes in them, they were laid across a pile of straw on the floor. Where Lirto assumed a bed had been at some point and that was about it, no amenities just a small space with some straw in the corner surrounded by stone the dark and moldy air. It was now upon that pile and against the cold stone wall that he rested, panic from his verbal whipping by Nathar nearly forgotten, replaced by fear and desperation. It hadn't been long since the soldier had led him here after taking him from what must have been Nathar's office, but long enough for his clothes to dampen from the air. The time was dragging long in the dark, trapped with the repercussions of his actions. Heavy bricks of concern laying thick, oppressing any positive thought. Stagnant air difficult to breathe. He stared into the dark of the corner of the room opposite him, right hand gently caressing and rubbing against the sharp straw below himself.

Both Nathar and Rikard have my name on the whipping-block. There is little chance I survive tomorrow. He pondered. No soldier in this fort would dare stop them. Let alone defy Nathar, he has them all wrapped around his fingers. Lirto shuffled, moving his legs to stop the ever present numbing on his ass from the hard floor, taking special effort to prevent any weight on his left hand. His right hand moved up and pressed gently against the wound on his chest, fingers gently riding along his skin, feeling the surface of the cut. The skin was rugged but luckily it had now healed a bit, sealed with a flaky scab. Gradually his hand raised up to his face, touching the slash that was left ripped across his cheek, arm stretched out across his chest to reach it. Again, this cut had healed just enough to not open up under the force of his invasive fingers. I got lucky, very lucky. That soldier was not far off killing me. Lirto's thoughts jumping topic. He still left me with some nasty injuries despite that and my luck has run out. Tomorrow will not be something I survive, they would not let me after the scene I caused. His mind yet again flicking to darker thoughts. That stupid dragon. Why did I bother? It was as good as dead anyways. Fuck. Hand going limp and shifting down, back to his side. Fingers running through the straw and touching the abrasive stone beneath. I can't die, not chained up like that dragon. Not like some creature to be made a spectacle of as some sick entertainment. Nails clawing at the stone, filing the edges against the cold, hard surface. But what do I do? I do not have much of an option to avoid being their play thing. I saw how that dragon looked, pale and weak. They clearly had their way with it before I was ever there. He again shifted his legs, scooting back a little against the wall. Eyebrows collapsing and eyes squinting a little harder in thought. I have to escape somehow.... There is no other way out of this. Cowardly, but it must be done, my reputation no longer exists as a Scile and there is no dignity for me either. A smile started to creep to his lips, invisible in the dark. But how?

The timeless dark sprouted ideas in his mind, a great tree bursting with new growth, spiteful of death and the dark. Newfound confidence rooted itself deep in his core, an affirmation of life. His boots scuffed against the stonework below him, slipping into position and he grew tall on the hay, bracing against the wall. Ribs flaring with aches from their earlier abuse. He sucked in breath, daring it to challenge his defiance against certain death. Right hand running up the wall, a steady support. New determination and will to live surging through his blood, rejuvenating him. Eyes adjusted to the dark with new found purpose, giving graceful guidance. Lirto lifted his leg and took a step forward, straw crunching, echoing in the room. This will be more difficult than I may have given it credit for. The realisation striking him. I cannot stop, vicious death awaits my inaction. Second step landed soft, beyond the straw, quiet in the dark. That is better. Third and fourth steps landing harder, testing the boundaries. With sheltered, slow pace, he made it to his doorway. Bracing for the immanent appearance of a guard, he slowly poked his head beyond the doorway. Eyes scanning the dark of the long hallway, no movement. Lirto waited, looking hard into the dark, but nothing jumped out. No guards. Silently confirming to himself. With desperate steps he crept down the hallway, passing chamber after chamber, sleeping men laid out on beds in each room. Lirto looked into one room as he snuck by. The lack of attention to his footing causing his boot to skip and scuff. Noise jumped out from the room and a shadow flickered on the bed in the room. He grimaced, braced himself and became still as stone, trying hard to blend with the dark. The room yet again spitting out noise, murmuring of sleepy voice. If I get caught, I am a dead man. Panic seared his veins, hair jumping off his skin. The shadow upon the bed moving again, slow and messily. Lirto's breath picking up pace. I have to focus, I cannot panic. He strangled the hasty breaths. Moisture wetted his palms. Lirto dared another step, an attempt to break the line of sight. The figure did not move. No noise ebbed from the room. Another step. Half his body shrouded by the wall. No movement again. A third step. A fourth. And free, He leaned against the hallway wall, catching strangled breath. That was close. Rubbing the sweat off his palms onto his trousers, he pushed himself off the wall, walking towards the exit. Continuing the silent march along the blade of death.

The moonlight dimly shone on the bailey of the fort before Lirto. He stood back in the shadow of the doorway to the barracks. Examining the activity beyond himself, there were a few guards atop the void where the walls hid. It absorbed the little light that came from the moon. Their torches betraying their every move. They will not be able to see me with those torches ruining their vision. Let alone be looking inside the courtyard of the fort in the first place. He got ready to walk into the moonlight. It does not surprise me, no one would ever attack this fort. So why would the guards care? They have gotten lazy. With confidence underfoot, Lirto walked out but rode the wall as protection against any vigilant guard, however unlikely. Skirting the wall of the barracks to his left, moving south towards the gatehouse he had earlier entered. The moonlight faded and grew occasionally, Lirto looked up towards the moon. It was nearly full, merely missing a slice on its left side, but the clouds that were sparse in the dark sky masked it now and then, providing further protection in the night. He looked back to the wall nearest to himself on the far side of the barracks, still a long way to go. Guards meandered along the wall's tip, paying little heed to much around them. Their voices quietly whispering on the air and fire of their torch light flickering. Grass shuffled and brushed underfoot, his steps providing the only accompanying noise. Lirto slipped a glance to the gatehouse, It was lit with various torches in its archway. Its predatory portcullis hanging high and no sign of the Oak gate behind them. Good, they have left the gates open, this will be much easier. Confirming to himself.

Soon enough he had reached the south edge of the barracks, yet again focusing attention to the nearest wall. Double checking the ignorance of the guards atop the barrier. Oblivious as ever before. Lirto crouched down and snuck towards the black mass, reaching it without incident. Grass growing high here along the wall's edge, brushing his ankles. Scraping the new wall on his left side, he continued, following it, confident he would not be spotted. Albeit quickly approaching his second obstacle, one of the towers partially flushed into the wall. Rounding it would leave him further exposed than just flowing along the wall itself, not a big issue but one to consider. Upon reaching it he cautiously scanned the walls again. Checking for any guard who would challenge his next move, paranoid about their vigilance. Satisfied that no-one watching him, he scanned the courtyard. No shadows shifted in the dim light of the space. So good so far, looks like I may be in the clear. Focusing back on his feet, he continued to creep along the wall's edge. The rounded shape of the tower forcing him into the courtyard, exposing his figure to any looking with a keen eye. He moved along the tower's edge fast, doing his best to still keep footfalls silent. His shoulder scraping along the hard stone as he maneuvered. Reaching the end of the tower and the other side of the wall, he took a moment to stop and reevaluate. Further forwards was the blocky structure of the gatehouse. Beyond that, the stables. The gentle cold of the night tickled the skin on his face and carefully gripped his hands. Lirto sighed quietly, preparing for the challenge ahead.

On approach to the opening of the gatehouse, he braced himself. Light spilt out of the archway and voices echoed out of its depths. Slowly, he poked his head past the corner. Metal shone, light bouncing off it. Guards. They stood at the the end of the archway, talking loudly amongst themselves. Creaking of metal plates accompanying the noise. He retreated his head to the shadow. Three guards even, not good. They are not paying much attention, but I'm so close I am bound to draw their attention. I just got to go for it and hope for the best. He poked his head around the side of the wall again. The guards all facing away from him at the far end of the gateway, past the far portcullis. Two had longswords sheathed on their waist, while the third was unarmed. But a regular sword and a shield sat resting against the wall next to him. Lirto moved back, away from the passageway, and retreated a few meters into the courtyard. Hopefully with this extra space the night should cover me a little further. He patiently waited, hoping the guards' voices would pick up a little more to mask his footsteps. Soon enough, they started to joke and their voices grew loud. Now. He psyched himself and ran. A fleeting flash of light running into the path of the light and out into the dark again. He promptly moved over to the wall again on the other side, embracing its shroud.

Metallic shifting and clanging erupted from the gateway. Fuck. Lirto sprinted along the wall's edge. Noise of metal getting louder. Its echo rippling from behind him. He jumped into the grass a short distance from where he had started. Landing hard on his left hand. He shoved his face hard into the dirt and yelped. Sound muffled as a tear leaked from his eye. Causing the dirt to coat his teeth.

"I am sure I heard something" A voice squeaky stated.

Lirto held still, body weight heavy and agonising on his hand. Daring not to move. Death will not have me today.

"Are you sure? I don't recall hearing anything" A voice deeper than the last responded.

The shriller guard replied "Yes, I am certain. If we had been paying attention, I bet I would have spotted whatever made the noise too."

Footsteps landing on the grass as a person walked about. Slow and methodical, as if scanning the area around them.

"Why would you pay any attention on this job? You know there is nothing out there, right?" The other guard quipped "Your mind is too active"

"How can you be so sure there is nothing out there?" Questioned the original guard.

"What are you blabbering about? Of course there is nothing out there, we are in the middle of Lezuria, far from Navinium" Assured the Deeper spoken guard.

"Fine, but I still heard something moving about. It sounded fast too." Asserted the first guard.

"It was probably just a rabbit or fox little whiplet." The second guard reassured "You know first hand how they run around the grounds."

The first guard queried "You are probably right, but what if it was that soldier that got beaten the shit out of yesterday?"

"The heretic? No, they would have him in the jail, locked up after what he did."

"Mmmh, I guess you are right. It probably was just a fox or something." Agreed the first guard.

"Good lad, now let's get back." The second guard pushed.

The footfalls died down and the rhythmic chinking of metal armour quieted. That was far too close. Lirto removed the weight off of his hand, grimacing at the movement. But I had no other choice. Subsequently bringing himself to a crouched position, right knee resting on the dirt and left foot flat on the floor. He spat, removing the earth from his teeth after his dive while briefly checking his surroundings. Taking note to look over his shoulder just for good measure. Nothing stood out of the ordinary, no guards were out of place anymore. Confident again, he stood and continued walking towards the stables, his heart rate sinking back to a normal pace. Regularly paced steps flowing forwards, dragging him with them. Coming up to the next tower, he moved around it with no issues, still ever cautious however. A short walk, after which he reached the stables and begun searching the outbuilding for his horse. Where he presumed his belongings would still hopefully be with. Scanning each stable with care as he moved along its length, cautious not to wake or spook any of the horses. Passing what must have been a dozen individual stables, he came across one which had a brown palfrey in and his equipment still sat upon its rump. Lazy shits could not even be bothered to tend to the horse properly. The palfrey stood asleep in its stable. Recognising this, Lirto gently tapped at the door of the stable, waking the horse, which showed minimal signs of bother. Sliding the bolt for the door and stepping inside with the horse, he slowly walked around to its side. Gently unstrapping his kit from the back of the horse, he lifted it away once it had come loose. Doing his best to keep the armour and other bits of equipment from making too much noise, he gracefully laid it out on the ground with minimal movement. Then checking the items that were now on the floor in the hay. Armour, check. Broadsword, check. Shield, check. Seaxe, check. Mail, check. Leathers, check. Belt, check. Provisions, check. Axe and coin both missing. All necessary bits accounted for. Another smile grew into the corners of his lips. Looks like my plan may just work yet. Lirto started to place the leathers and mail onto his body, the metal shifting with minimal noise. He slid the belt over his armour and buckled his sword and seaxe upon it. Next, lacing his bag small bag of food and waterskin to his belt. He shrugged the shield over his back. Leaving his plate armour and one Palfrey significantly less burdened. He bolted the door to the stables and walked to the gateway, carrying his helm in his right hand. I hope this works.

Several meters back from the gateway, he lifted his helm, sliding it on his head. Slits in the metal granting partial vision. Striding into the archway, voices of the guards from earlier suddenly audible. Mail chinking with each step and metal boot clanking on the stone floor. All three guards abruptly turned to face him and he proceeded forwards, refusing to falter. Getting closer, the guards moved to the right side of the passageway, ready to allow him to pass. Their voices now gone quiet in the extra company. Lirto continued pressing forwards, passing the first portcullis getting ever closer to the curious guards. The second portcullis went by, his boots echoing in the space. He walked right past the guards.

"Scared of the dark much soldier? You look ready to fight it. Or is all that armour just to stop us seeing you piss yourself in fear of it?" A guard behind him taunted.

Another guard defending "Stop John, you'll piss the man off. Look at that armour and sword, he isn't a usual grunt."

"What makes you say that, whelp? Scared of someone with a little metal on them?"

With that, Lirto rounded then end of the gatehouse, passing the right half of the Oak gate. Guard's voices becoming no more than a whisper in the wind which was prevalent outside the fort. Plunged back into darkness, limited vision of the helmet making it practically impossible to see. Guess I will just follow the wall and go toward the mountains. He planned. I hope those guards do not follow me. The unsteady ground in the dark grabbing at his feet. Struggling to walk in the dark, he skirted along the edge of the raised mound around the fort walls. Any bad step would spell a fall and ruin everything.

Far later into the night after he had made it into the nearby forest and up into the mountains with much difficulty. Lirto had stumbled into a clearing overlooking Rupes' Fort and sat upon a large, flat rock. He had stripped his armour and shield now, but his weapons and provisions sat upon his belt, which laid next to him. The fort sat below, a fearful black figure lurking in the dark. Its oppressive nature felt even from the distance Lirto now had achieved from it and the freedom he had gained. Distant torch light flickered on its walls marking its perimeter. The keep and barracks all but a shadow, completely unlit. Keep only visible because of the torches on the far wall it blocked out. Life continued in the structure as if he had never been there. The fear of death still lingered and its taste was far from forgotten as it sat right before him, predatory and nearly invisible in the night. Laying back on the rock, allowing himself to finally relax and process the last day of activity. Freedom. But what happens next? I cannot go home, they would find me. I cannot go into any towns as they will be looking to lynch me. Fuck, they will be looking for me at dawn for making a fool of them. I better continue moving before dawn rises or I'll become a corpse. He let out a sigh, and laid his right hand over his chest. I best leave the armour entirely, it is no use to me unless I get caught and have to fight. It would only slow me. I could sell it, but not without suspicion or being found. Lirto looked at the moon as it floated just above the horizon. Soon night will fully set in without the moonlight. Just a shame I have to run away like a dog with its tail tucked, else earn an early grave. A shuffle rustled from the shrubbery to his left, more prevalent than the wind, but he paid little heed to it. His thoughts drifted back to what Nathar had said earlier in his office. That threat would likely be followed up on. They will kill my father. Lirto evaluated.

A rustle again slipping from the bushes nearby. Well, if they do kill him, is that any of my concern? But then my cowardice is responsible for his death. Even if it may be deserved. He pondered. If anything his death would be a gift to himself... No, that is a nasty way of thinking, he has not done anything to deserve that horrible death they would give him. Thoughts deeply conflicting Lirto. Again becoming disturbed by a rustling in the bushes. Whatever that is needs to be quieter. He went to dismiss the noise. It rustled again and a heavy thud reverberated through the ground and air, shaking Lirto from his ignorance. What was that? It sounds big. He slowly slid towards his belt along the rock surface, an attempt to avoid detection by whatever lurked in the dark. Reaching his belt, he loosely slipped off the rock with it in hand. Crouching down, trying to hide. A loud snap of a branch echoed throughout the clearing. Another thud vibrated the ground. Fuck, what should I do? Hide, maybe? No, running would be better. Jumping to his feet, he sprinted to the side of the clearing, away from the noises. A deep hiss erupting out from behind him. Assaulting his ears, the noise overwhelming. Shit, that's a dragon. Lirto missed his next step, sent crashing into the ground. Rapid thuds of footsteps started getting louder with each one. Lirto laid face in the dirt. Scrambled to get his footing. Left hand down, pushing against the floor. He fell to his left, hand failing to secure purchase. Pain and broken digits betraying him. Wind rushed over the back of his head, blowing his hair. Despite the pain, he rolled again. Stars briefly visible. Using the momentum, he forced himself to his feet. Pain still sparking madly in his hand, he cradled it to his belly. Running again, doing his best to not fall in the dark. The thuds getting ever louder. His belt flailing about in his right hand.

A force slammed into his back, sending Lirto sprawling across the grass. The thuds all but stopped. Lirto laid on his stomach, ache of his ribs suddenly returning. Feeling like a tree had hit his back. Attempting to get up, he contorted himself into a kneeling position. An object slammed into his back again. Laid back out in the dirt. The object pressed against his back, pinning him down. Heated wind blew down over the back of his neck. I guess this is the end then, what a feeble treacherous life. Hard, thick digits wrapped around his sides. Squishing him slightly. Talons dug into his belly and chest. A scaled claw wrapped around him. Lirto abruptly lifted off the dirt, suspended off the ground. He feebly thrashed about. Arms and legs flying about. The dragon turned and moved uphill, walking becoming a sprint. Violent thuds at each footfall. It lifted off the ground and a hard thrust of air batted Lirto as the ground fell away.