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"Even since the glory days of the Barthon Empire, Serephal had been rather independent. This was because the Melserni and Tithen Ridges made any land routes from the northwest difficult and the constant threat of storms made a sea route via the Southern Ocean equally dangerous. Therefore, the forested territory of Serephal was rendered extremely isolated from the rest of the Empire, even more so than the remote Thendor and as a result, the populous there developed a culture and even a language that was distinct from the rest of the continent early on already. It is no surprise then that, with the death of the Imperial Family at the start of the Barthon Empire's collapse, Serephal was the first to officially break away from the crumbling throne and declare itself an independent kingdom.

But even as the first of the great Five Kingdoms [of the First Age], its isolation still counted against this patch of Selebore and it would play a very small role in the centuries to follow. As a result, it usually stood in an alliance with the neighbouring Naeve to ensure that the stronger Kingdom of Kentereal would not conquer them. This tactic would prove to be not very effective however, as the much larger kingdom did usually intimidate the two weaker ones into siding with itself on international various policies.

Matters did not improve for Serephal even in the Golden Age. Particular notice should be made of the events surrounding a rather eccentric magus with strong family connections to the royal family of Serephal, called Dahrthen. He started his magical career at the Jet Tower where he proved to be a great craftsman and enchanter. However, he was swayed to join the Coral Tower during the Orc Wars to be more active in protecting his kingdom of origin from the orcish threat to the northeast. His vigour with which he hunted down Shadowspawn caused him to rise quickly within the ranks of the Red Magi, but just as he was selected to be part of the Coral Delegation to the Circle of Five, he fell from grace.

Dahrthen started having visions of all the Towers of the Magi being destroyed by some disastrous Mana Flashback which was immediately followed by the complete collapse of the Five Kingdoms themselves. How detailed his visions were is unknown at the time of writing, but the more he tried to warn his colleagues of the approaching doom, the less they wanted to hear of it. Eventually, he was stripped of his authority and banish from the Circle altogether, sequestered from practising magic ever again. Humiliated, disowned and disgraced, he would retreat to a tower near the town of his birth where he would spend the remainder of his days attempting to reconnect with his lost magical abilities. Whether he succeeded or not is a secret he took to his grave, but the unfair treatment of the beloved nobleman would cause an uproar in Serephal itself, especially when his warnings were proven to have been correct.

…

The royal family of Serephal were one of the few families lucky enough to be transformed together in the Divergence of Species, taking the form very similar to that of their original human shape but with more angular features and sharper, pointed ears. Therefore, during the Muthihunts of The Shattering, many of what would become known as 'Elves' fled to Serephal to escape Theranthropes who mistook them for humans, a species whose reagents were the most highly sought after. As such, the isolation of Serephal, the disgrace of duke Dahrthen, as well as these Muthihunts would play an important role in forming the mindset of the elves as a nation, even ones whose ancestry did not originate in Serephal itself.

Today, Elves remain very secretive, hidden away in small hamlets within the thick Ealyndore Forest. And despite being the Anthrope species most attuned to magic, they remain apart from the influence of the Circle of Five, despite what the Bloodstorm Treaty said at the time. Still, it would not be that strange to encounter an elf in the halls of one of the towers, although there was some speculation that this was merely to ensure that they do not fall behind on the latest discoveries in Mana uses."

Extract from "Cultures of the Second Age" by Elaine Longhorn, a scolar of Anthropolicy, Theranthropology and Tetrapology of the Second Age.

***

Alex considered the group of youngsters with a raised eyebrow.

"A bit young to be this far away from home... don't you think?" the fox commented to his companion who was sitting on his haunches next to him.

"Probably," the dark brown gryphon agreed, clacking his beak at the small group of adventurers walking down the by now well-trodden path towards their encampment. Then, with a slight grin tugging at the corners of his beak, he turned back to his rider next to him. "Although, remind me how old you were when you joined us?"

"Not that young..." Alex defended himself from his old friend's playful nip.

"Right," Aesu smirked. "You were a full day older!" The comment earned him a soft backhand against his chest, at which the gryphon could only chuckle in that clucking manner they had. "Be fair though, all three of them look old enough to have gone through their rite of passage already so they can travel anywhere if they want to."

"What do you think they want?" the fox asked, more to redirect the conversation in another direction than his own tender age when he had first met the gryphon.

"Isn't it obvious?" Aesu smirked. "They're looking to be recruited."

"That would be great," Alex agreed, looking at the small group and failing to see what it was that convinced his steed about their intentions. "We still have a serious shortage of rider trainees." Then just to be a little mischievous, he suggested with a smirk of his own: "You know, they could also just be looking for assistance with a quest of theirs. It has happened several times before."

"Maybe," the gryphon replied thoughtfully, considering the group for a bit. "But they look much too green to have landed a job that will even pay well enough to hire one of our pairs as a bodyguard."

"If you say so," Alex agreed half-heartedly, quickly indicating to the still inexperienced Lúgroccan pair on watch-duty with them that they will handle this group.

"We could bet a pint at 'The Dragon and Gryphon' over it!" Aesu grinned, crouching a little to make it easier for his rider to climb onto his back. When the fox was seated properly, he turned his head to regard the fox with a steely gaze. "And I mean a Gryphon-sized pint!"

"A pint is a standard measure of liquid!" Alex argued as he fastened his riding harness to his steed's saddle, trying and failing to hide the smirk at the memory of the upset gryphon when he had received his 'prize' last time they had made a bet. "That thing the local tavern calls a 'Gryphon-sized' pint is more like three pints in one!"

"I mean it!" Aesu insisted.

"And how is that fair, betting three pints to one?" Alex complained, making the last checks of his harness. Though it was only a small hop down the tower, the importance of linking in properly had been drilled into them from their days as trainees almost a decade ago and now it was practically second nature to them.

"It could have been a Dragon-sized pint!" Aesu grinned, chuckling again when the fox glared menacingly at him. "Think of it this way, with you winning if they are here for anything else other than becoming riders, the odds are stacked in your favour, so how can anything less not be fair?"

"I guess you have a point there," Alex agreed, trying to think of a way to get out of this mess he had created for himself. He patted the gryphon on the neck to indicate that he was ready, hoping the bird would take off to meet the new arrivals and forget to agree to the bargain. But his friend did not fall for it.

"So, if they are here to sign up as recruits, you buy me a Gryphon-sized pint at the town's tavern," he grinned back at his rider. "If they are here for anything else, I'll buy you a regular pint! Deal?"

"Okay, deal!" Alex sighed, realizing that there was no escaping for him this time. "Now let's go... we have a job to do!"

Aesu grinned victoriously, his beak practically watering already at the thought of savouring the local lager. With an unnecessary squawk, he leapt from the wooden watchtower that had been erected by the gate and descended to land directly in front of the startled group of youngsters.

"Welcome to the Dirt Tower!" Alex greeted the group of three travellers with a smirk. "I am Roccan Alex and this," he patted the gryphon's neck affectionately, "is Lúg Aesu."

"The... Dirt Tower?" the young she-wolf asked, a little confused.

"We are looking for the Lúgroccae..." the other wolf replied, hopeful to be pointed in the right direction. His resemblance to the female wolf was striking, though unlike her Alex doubted that it had been a month since he had completed his final Rite of Passage yet.

"You are at the right place," Aesu commented, giving his rider an evil eye. "The name 'Dirt Tower' is something of an inside joke, referring to the defensive earthworks as a parody to the names the Circle of Five have."

"So, you want to simply keep calling it just 'The Camp' then?" Alex smirked incredulously, chuckling when he earned a nip for his comment.

"It is better than the 'Dirt Tower'!" Aesu insisted, before returning his attention to their visitors, poignantly ignoring his rider's reply in the matter. "Yes, this is the Lúgroccae Camp. How can we help you?"

"But... you're a gryphon..." a young unicorn female and barely the eldest of the three pointed out with a frown. "Doesn't the name 'Lúgroccae' mean 'Dragon-Riders'?"

"Yes, it does," Aesu sighed, the feathers on his head puffing up a little in annoyance at hearing the same old argument again. "But we do not turn away anyone just of who they are."

"Oh," the youngest of the three sighed, failing to hide his disappointment. "I just thought..."

Whether it was Aesu glaring annoyed at the young wolf that quieted him down, or his own sense of etiquette was difficult to tell. Still, the gryphon could see the disappointment in the youngster's demeanour at the news that not all the steeds of the Lúgroccae were majestic dragons. His expectations were not that wrong though as gryphons were not associated with the Lúgroccae. The local gryphons baulked vehemently at the idea of being ridden like this, and while it was mostly the gryphons on the peninsula that didn't mind being ridden, they mostly preferred to remain in the service of Thendor even now despite the awkward war with the canids raging. But despite the understandable misunderstanding, the expectation that everyone was riding dragons was really starting to get old in the gryphon's opinion. It was grating against his sense of pride to the point where he was considering asking the Lúg'hir if it was possible to avoid guard duty completely in the future.

"Oh, come on. It's not that bad!" Alex came to his gryphon's aid. "There is nothing wrong with riding a gryphon. In fact, they are faster and more manoeuvrable in the air, so we are kind of an elite force in the Lúgroccae!"

Aesu couldn't help but grin at his rider's remark. It was a little exaggerated... but true enough if one considered it from the correct point of view. The three gryphons that had managed to graduate as part of this order were mostly messengers and scouts, or other things where speed or agility was most needed. But it was a vital job for which most dragons were naturally ill-equipped, and the gryphons took great pride in their nearly unique role. And graduating against dragons was no small task either. At least, Alex's comment seemed to have rekindled the young wolf's interest again, and shaking his irritation off, he turned to regard the eldest of the three.

"So, how is it that we can help you?" he asked the young mare, again.

"Well, you see," she started a little awkwardly, glancing for support to her two companions who in turn seemed only grateful the question hadn't been directed at them. "We... we were wondering if you were looking to recruit more riders.... "

"Yes, we are!" Aesu chirped, turning his head around to smirk at Alex. "In fact, we are rather short on riders. There are eleven dragons in training here but only four riders."

"So, we can become real Dragonriders?" the female wolf asked excitedly.

"Not so fast, I'm afraid!" Alex grumbled as he undid his harness and started to dismount from his steed, a little upset about the wager he had lost. "You first have to be cleared by Lúg'hir Gahntuar and Roccan'hir Merec, or some of the other leaders such as Lúg'her Jerielle or Laethia..."

"There is more than one Lúg'hir?" the youngest wolf asked surprised, though a little deflated at the news of the coming interviews.

"No-no-no," Aesu chirped quickly, his good mood at the coming lager unintentionally helping to cheer the youngsters up again. "It is different titles within the Lúgroccae. I'll explain as we walk along... that is if you are interested in joining us?" He motioned to the three to follow them into their encampment and with eager air-punches, they were quick to follow. "And don't worry about the interviews... see, they even let Alex here join us after all!"

"Hey!" Alex protested, much to the delight of their visitors. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Remind me what you called the Lúg'hir when we first came to the Amber Tower?" Aesu smirked, giving the fox a knowing look.

Alex only grunted at his friend and steed. "So, how is it you came to be interested in signing up with us?" he asked the three hopefuls to change the topic. Quickly!

"Sean and Elize here tell me that their father met two of your pairs who were guarding a caravan travelling to Lamthorre and he couldn't stop praising them," the equine, who was seemingly appointed the spokesperson of the small group, replied. "As for myself, I've been fascinated by the stories of the Siege of Corrumwhell for years now. I guess it was only a matter of time before I managed to find my way here."

Then, she became silent again, her eyes sparkling like her two companions as they admired the neat clumps of long stone-and-log huts arranged in four groups of four which served as barracks. Each group of four was built around a small courtyard with the whole lot encircling the large parade square in the middle. There was a sudden gasp of delight when the group spotted a squadron of four dragons and riders standing on parade in front of their assigned hut, dressed in full battle armour and being inspected by a fifth Lúgroccan pair whose armour seemed to have a very visible blueish hue to the metal.

"How many dragons are there living here?" the eldest wolf asked awed.

"Well, together with the Lúg'hir, we have about sixty-two dragons and three gryphons in residence," Alex replied, sounding almost proud of the fact. And why shouldn't they be? Dragons were after all famous for not being able to live in societies such as this, and yet here they were. True, there were a lot of territorial disputes and fights for dominance in the early years amongst the dragons, with the riders often joining the fights to support their steeds surprisingly soon. This of course only intensified when the draines in the vicinity started to breed and were looking for nesting sites, away from each other yet still close enough to the camp not to be completely isolated as should have been the norm. But such squabbles had diminished thanks to their strict military discipline, or as much as could be expected of a stubborn species such as dragons at least.

Of course, the Lúg'hir always insisted that the truth behind what bound them together and helped them work out ways to overcome their independent nature was the realization of how much stronger they were together and their need to stand against a much stronger foe. Roccan'her Harald on the other hand insisted that the recent decision to forbade trainees and serving dragons who are graduates for less than five years from breeding without permission by at least two pairs of the council also played an important role in keeping the discipline. Of course the contravercial rule was still not very widely accepted by the lower ranks, but they had to admit that by the time a dragon earned the title of Lúg they were in much better control of their instincts overall. Then Lúg'her Leathia thought that is was thanks to the duelling arena set up behind The Camp where they could battle under strict rules of combat that were the key to their success. Yes, there were still the odd arguments and fights now and then, but the serious and often unnecessary fighting had all but evaporated.

"So, what exactly is the difference between the Lúg'hir and Lúg'her?" the equine suddenly asked as if remembering not to stare.

"Those are different titles," Aesu repeated as they started walking again. "The Lúg'hir is the head dragon, and the various Lúg'herae are positions of honour who help him run this place, like the trainers or organizers."

"Oh," the equine replied, obviously pretending to be satisfied.

"Let's rather start from the bottom, shall we?" Alex suddenly piped up. "You rightly pointed out earlier that Lúgroccae translates to 'Dragon-Riders'. It comes from the elvish words Lúg for Dragon and Roccan for Rider. So, we've adopted those terms to indicate the two individuals in a pair. I am the rider, so I'm titled Roccan Alex. And as I said before," he patted the dark gryphon's neck again "is Lúg Aesu."

"Shouldn't Lúg be reserved for the dragons?" the young male wolf asked surprised.

"Here it is just a title," Aesu replied with an upset clack of his beak. "And one I've worked hard for mind you!"

"I... I'm sorry," the youngster winced, dropping his head a little and falling to the back of the group.

"Don't worry about it." Alex smiled at him, soothing Aesu with a rub at his neck again. "When it is explained like that most people ask the same. It just gets kind of gets irritating after a while."

"What did you mean 'worked hard for it'?" the mare asked to change the subject back to the pressing matter at hand: That of becoming riders themselves.

"Did you think becoming a rider was going to be easy?" Alex smirked at her.

"When you are accepted as a trainee here, you will be given the title of Sal'Roccan. That will be Sal'Lúg for the dragons, of course," Aesu continued, nodding a quick greeting to one of the dragon-rider pairs that passed them by. "It means Rider-, or dragon as the case may be, -in-Training. If you can complete the gruelling training and have developed a sufficiently strong bond with a steed, you will then graduate to Tir'Roccan. Um, that will be Graduate-Rider."

"Will we be assigned a dragon..." the she-wolf asked, quickly adding "or gryphon" when Aesu turned a steely gaze upon her.

"At first, yes," Alex replied before the gryphon could say anything. "But while you are a trainee you can change partners as often as you like. But remember that you need to be partnered with the same steed for at least two years before you can even qualify for the graduation exams." When there was a collective moan at the mention of a two-year minimum, the fox couldn't help but grin. "That is just how it is... know that the bond I have with Aesu is the most important aspect of the Lúgroccae and developing that is a major part of the training."

"You said that trainees can change partners as often as they like," Elize continued unsurely. "Why is that?"

"Again, the bond between rider and steed is an almost sacred thing and cannot be forced," Alex explained. "Therefore, it is best to wait until you find the steed who fits best with you. When I was starting here originally, I was paired up with Lúg'her Jerielle as steed. But when we didn't work so well together, I moved over to Aesu here... and I never looked back."

"Some might say that was a foolish choice," Aesu chirped in from the side with a playful nip. "She is after all the second-in-command of the Lúgroccae!"

"I know, but I still prefer the way things worked out!" Alex replied with a grin, scratching the smaller feathers on the gryphon's cheek. "All that responsibility is definitely not for me!" The topic had come up several times before, but Alex preferred his gryphon friend... a fact that the gryphon was always eager to hear.

"But what about settled pairs?" Elize pressed.

"That hasn't happened before," Aesu replied seriously as they started to walk up the slope to the cluster of smaller huts at the top of the slight incline. "Though, I don't think the higher-ups will be very thrilled if a pair wants to break up after being together for so long."

"What about if one dies?" the youngest wolf suddenly asked.

"Oh, you mean like that..." Aesu sighed, suddenly more sombre. "That is inevitable, I guess. But each case will be different. Roccan'gon Cera did lose her steed to a javelin from an Alliance hunting party four years back. However, she befriended another dragon and the two of them had to start from the bottom again as a Sal'Lúgroccan pair. They graduated easily enough and Roccan'gon Cera's skill in leading a squad landed them a leading role quicker than the norm, but her steed Lúg Sjeric still has to prove himself before he can earn the same title."

"You see, a title is usually assigned to a Lúgroccan pair and not the individual," Alex quickly explained. "But we will not ignore experience if one of a pair has to start over again."

"That is if they choose to take another partner," Aesu quickly added. "Lúg'her Farriha lost her rider in a skirmish with other dragons some six years ago, and she chose not to take another rider. However, she is a brilliant tactician and instead of leaving the Lúgroccae, she decided to stay on in an advisory role."

"Okay," the young male wolf replied, sounding as if most of what was said flew by completely over his head.

"Anyway, back to the original topic at hand!" Aesu announced. "As I mentioned before, you will be known as Tir'Roccae after graduation and remain as such for five years before you are promoted to fully-fledged Roccae."

"You mentioned a Roccan'gon just now," the young mare pointed out.

"Yes, there are three honorary titles," Alex agreed. "The Roccan'gon is a squad or wing leader and means... well... 'Rider Leader'. Then the high command and the trainers are referred to as Roccan'her or 'Rider Master'. Then finally at the very top, you have heard of the Roccan'Hir... or 'Rider Lord'."

"A squad consists of four pairs and their leader," Aesu quickly added. "And a Battlewing has twenty-one pairs: four squads each with their associated leader."

"That... is rather complicated!" the female wolf decided with s scrunch of her snout, making the others laugh. "Why make things so complicated?"

"It is a bit complicated when you first hear it, I agree!" Alex nodded. "And a bit much for an introduction, but you'll get used to it after a while. As for why we go with those titles... I don't know. A tradition I guess, even though we barely have elven riders in our ranks... the elves at the Siege of Corrumwhell gave us the name 'Lúgroccae' and the titles were just a follow-on from there."

"Were you one of the five rider-pairs at Corrumwhell?" the equine asked, suddenly absolutely fascinated.

"What, no there weren't..." Aesu started to argue, but then gave up with a sigh. It seemed the more they tried to convince everyone that there were no real Lúgroccan pairs at the now-famous siege, the more the story of five dragons seemed to spread. "I was at the siege, yes," he finally admitted. "But I wasn't part of the Lúgroccae then." For a moment, wonder sparkled in the youngsters' eyes and Aesu had to remind him not to bask in the sudden glory. Really, all the time around the dragons seemed to have had a rather poor influence on him. At least, they had arrived at their destination, so he was forced to bring his head out of the clouds again. "But come, you'll first need to speak to Lúg'her Laethia if you want to join up. You cannot miss her... she is the black draine with the one wing missing. I believe she is out looking in on one of the nearby nesting draines, but she should be back before this afternoon."

"Missing wing?" the young mare gasped, while the youngest wolf whined worriedly "You're not coming with us?"

"No, we will have to return to our post by the gate," Alex stated.

"Oh, don't worry, you'll be fine." Aesu comforted them. "She may look rather foreboding, but she is a gentle soul. Just answer her questions honestly and I'm sure the next time we see each other you'll be proper trainees."

Alex and Aesu watched as the youngsters entered the building they had been led to, still a little unsure of themselves but hopeful to start a new future here.

"Honestly now, how do you think they will fare?" Alex asked mounting his steed again when the three newcomers were out of sight again.

"The younger wolf might be a little too young still, but I don't think that will be too much of a problem," Aesu admitted. "Especially with his sister also trying to join up, it may be difficult to send him back alone. The young mare on the other hand looks eager enough. Why do you ask? Do you want to try and bet on their success as well?"

"No!" Alex quickly snapped. "I'm already a 'Gryphon-sized' pint behind... I won't go double or nothing just yet."

"Aww," Aesu whined, though a chuckle in his voice betrayed his true feeling on the matter.

"Come you big featherhead," Alex grinned, patting his steed's neck to indicate that he was securely strapped in. "We still have to complete our shift at the gate before we can go get that pint of yours!"

And with that, the two returned to their station by the gate amidst cheerful laughs.

***

Ikessa considered the arrangement of colourful stones and bright crystals, lit candles and parts of various creatures she was instructed to hunt down over the past few weeks. Honestly, she was not sure how effective this arrangement was, but the goblin shaman whose help she had enlisted seemed rather sure of himself. All seemed in order, she thought and with a satisfied snort, she dismissed the shaman. What she had to say was not for his ears anyway.

"Glorious Senna, Mistress of Beasts, I summon thee! Please grant me an audience for I have need of thee!" she announced in an as authoritative voice as she could muster once she was sure she was alone. For the briefest of moments, she thought she could feel a disturbance in the ebb and flow of the Mana from the well where they were situated.

But nothing happened.

"Magnificent Senna, Mistress of Beasts, I beg an audience with thee!" she tried instead. Maybe 'summoning' her was not the greatest idea after all.

Still, nothing happened.

For a moment she considered the supposed summoning circle again with more than a little disgust. Just looking at it, it seemed grand enough to do the job with its intricate swirls and mathematical precision. But it was painted with an unnecessarily gory, bloody mixture of various organs and plant matter, all ground-up into a thick red paste and plastered onto the stony floor of the little cave where she had decided to summon the imposing demoness. It made her snout scrunch at the thought, but considering the little she knew of Mana, it seemed plausible enough to work. Maybe there was something wrong with the incantation? Or maybe this was the Great Creator's way of letting her know that this was a really, really bad idea?

In all honesty, she wouldn't be all that upset if this plan didn't pan out at all.

She was silent for a moment, considering her options again before deciding not to give up just yet and try few more variations of the incantation.

"Gracious Senna, I... " Ikessa suddenly hesitated. 'Gracious?' Of all the adjectives she doubted the Mistress could be described as gracious. In fact, if she had any other choice, she would have preferred not to interact with any of the surviving demons. But the constant pressure of the vow for vengeance she had taken to safeguard her only egg burned painfully in her chest at this moment and it drove her to this desperate act. And loath as she was to continue with this plan, she had to admit when the winds were too strong against her and when she needed to ask for help.

"Graceful Senna, hear my call!" she tried instead. "I need to speak with thee."

Nothing.

For the next forty minutes, she tried various forms of flattery, begging and once even threatening the elusive creature she did not fancy meeting but whose aid she now needed. But nothing worked. Snarling a curse in her native tongue, the pale blue draine finally had enough of this charade and swatted at one of the larger sculls close to her. It darted across the small cave, tumbling off-kilter in its flight before hitting the stone wall with a sickening crunch.

"Quat..." she started to swear, but luckily realized the mistake before she followed through. Loathe as she was to talk to Senna, she would rather deal with the succubus than the Master. She didn't want to risk summoning him instead... she would prefer that he did not even know she was trying to contact Senna. His lack of patience would only complicate matters if he knew of her plans and his insistence to solve everything with brute force will only warn her quarry of her intentions.

Ikessa sighed a deep breath to calm herself. Maybe she should go seek out that black magus apprentice Senna had corrupted to her whims during the Siege of Corrumwhell. That thought troubled her as much as being forced to summon Senna herself though. The young human had been interesting enough to talk to when she had first met him, and she originally liked to seek him out for a chat or to bounce a few ideas on how to deal with the Lúgroccan threat off him. His grasp of Ukaausan had been horrendous at first, but with her help, he managed to pick the basics of Black Speech up surprisingly quickly. But the more time he seemed to spend in Senna's presence, the colder and crueller he became. Of the young blacksmith who dreamt of greatness, there was nearly nothing left. Only a cruel, shallow puppet eager to please his mistress. She shuddered at the memory of their last meeting years ago. No, she doubted she would ever want to talk to him willingly again either.

But then, she smirked as another thought occurred to her. Years ago, when she had first taken on the role as Claw of the Master, she had unwittingly managed to summon the demon she was bound to serve when she had needed him to intervene on her behalf. Could it work again?

"Senna's perky tits!" the draine announced, barely believing her own audacity. Still, there was a sudden crackle of Mana that ignited with a sharp snapping sound.

"Insistent one, aren't you?" Senna's spectre growled, not in the slightest impressed. The draine on the other hand was smirking as wide as dragonly possible at her eventual success. Although, she quickly remembered her place and was quick to bow respectfully to her better.

"Mistress Senna, I desperately need to speak with you," Ikessa quickly announced. "If there was no other way, I would not have resorted to such... crude tactics as this."

"If you say so," Senna hissed, still upset. Ikessa suddenly gasped as she felt a gentle brush of ghostly fingers against her cheek. She didn't know the spectres of the Council of Juinkarr could be tangible, even if just barely!

"You may rise," Senna spoke, sounding surprisingly gentle. Yet, Ikessa knew better than to let her guard down around this creature, even if it is just her sprite that was present. But her caution did not hinder her from obeying, grateful not to be grovelling before the demoness as she was expected to do with the Master. She rose to all fours again and for a moment their gazes locked. At that moment, the draine felt like a small hatchling again before the vast experience and knowledge, and it was with tremendous difficulty that she managed to tear her gaze away.

"Wait, I know you," Senna continued, a little surprised when the draine managed to look away from her. She was silent for a moment before recalling who the draine that had summoned her was. "You're Ikessa, am I right? Quattor's latest pet dragon."

"That... that is true, mistress," Ikessa admitted, her nerves scrunching into knots at the thought that this creature knew her by name!

"I hear that you've made quite the name for yourself across the Shadowlands as the 'Claw of the Master'," the demoness commented, sounding impressed. "Even though the dragons at the Amber Tower pushed your forces completely out of the northern Curndors, I've only heard good things about you."

"Th-thank you, mistress," Ikessa managed to smile at the praise. "But that is actually what I wanted to talk to you about."

"You know, I might have granted you that audience if you had only said who you are. No need for all... this..." Senna said softly, raising an eyebrow at the poor attempt at a summoning. But then a sudden thought had her ask with a frown: "Though, why not ask Quattor for assistance? You are after all his Claw!"

"Again, that is true," the draine agreed, suddenly sounding a bit worried. How was she to tell this demoness her thoughts without sounding insulting? She took a quick deep breath to steady her nerves before simply pushing forward. "Not trying to be disrespectful to any of the Council of Juinkarr, but the Master's... temperament will create more problems than his aid will solve."

Ikessa's frill raised in surprise when Senna burst out in a delightful laugh.

"That is so true," the demoness smiled. "You know, I like you! You are smart and resourceful, considering you had to suffer Quattor's... demeanour for all these years. And your persistence and ingenuity in trying to get my attention had been impressive if very annoying." She circled the draine again as if studying her like a farm animal on a show. "I must say, you are much younger than I had expected, given what you have accomplished. Pity such talent is to be wasted in service to that buffoon of a creature! Have you ever considered serving me instead? Your talents are obviously wasted on that oaf."

"I..." Ikessa hesitated, hoping the clicking of her scales didn't reveal her horror at the thought. "I am bound to the Master until the one who is responsible for my mate's death has shared his fate!" she quickly stated.

"Of course," Senna agreed, seeming almost upset herself. "Poor Seghrien did not deserve an end like that!" She was silent for a moment as if in respect for the dead, though the draine had the suspicion that it was merely for her benefit. "But luckily I understand that he at least managed to secure a legacy... how is his young hatchling? You named him after his father, correct?"

At that, Ikessa's panic nearly got the better of her. But her vow flared up in her chest as she considered fleeing the cave at the mention of her precious offspring, reminding her that she had to stand her ground. Ironically, for his sake.

"Y-young Seghrien is doing well, when I saw him last," Ikessa was forced to admit. "But my duties to the Master is keeping me away from him for weeks at a time, I'm afraid."

"That's good to hear he is doing well," the succubus purred, making the draine's shiver again. "Though, it is sad that you are separated from him for so long. So, let's get to it then: What exactly was it that you wanted to ask of me?"

"As you know, the Master has ordered me to bring to him the hearts of the Lúg'hir and his rider," Ikessa quickly said, eager to get down to business and get the conversation away from her whelp. "But with the Lúgroccae as they are now, I cannot hope to achieve this goal with brute force alone. Now, I do have an idea on how to get to them, but for that to work, I'll need your assistance..."

With quick and precise statements, the draine described her plans to the patiently listening demoness. For her part, Senna did not betray any of her thoughts, causing the Claw of the Master to start doubting her carefully laid plans.

"I... I thought it could work..." Ikessa muttered worriedly when the demoness still only continued to stare blankly at her with her face scrunched in thought, even after the draine was done with describing how she wanted events to unfold. Then, to her relief, the mistress started to clap her hands.

"Yes, your talents are definitely wasted on that buffoon!" Senna declared. "There are a few points we will need to straighten out, but I do believe that your plans are sound. Only..." At this, Senna's cheerful manner evaporated like mist in the morning, causing Ikessa's heart to drop worriedly. "Did you think it wise that you could order me around?"

"That wasn't my intention, I swear!" Ikessa gasped, and despite being allowed to stand upright in the demoness's presence, she collapsed into a respectful bow again. "I merely wanted to ask the assistance of one of your contacts..."

"Ah, I may have come across wrong," the demoness sighed, touching the now visibly trembling draine on the cheek again. "I merely wanted to know what I would get out of this?"

"Mistress?" Ikessa gasped, her mind blank. How could she not have thought of something to trade in return? "I..." But try as she might, she could not think of anything to offer the demoness.

"Your son, Seghrien," Senna purred with unveiled desire when words failed the originally confident dragon. "You will promise to send him my way when he is ready to be presented before one of the council members!"

"Mistress!" Ikessa yelped, forgetting her place completely and jumping to her feet again. "But he is only a whelp still..." It was not the case to be fair. Though not ready to hold a territory of his own yet, he was old enough to start a family if he so chose and as such was already mature enough to be presented to his masters. A fact Ikessa hoped the demoness didn't realise yet.

"You misunderstand," Senna continued in her confident way. "I do not want his potential to be wasted like his father before him. You surely agree that I will be a better Mistress to young Seghrien than the Master could ever be."

Though probably true enough, if one considered the argument from the correct point of view, Ikessa would have none of it. What she wanted to do once the Shameblood, his human pet and that thrice-cursed mate of his were dead, was to leave the politics of Juinkarr behind and take her son as far away as she could manage where he would be free of the shackles of his father. She wanted to live a life of calm with her lieutenant, Harkor that she was denied with her first love. She...

No, she will be damned before she will allow any of these petty creatures with too much power and who dared to play gods, to have her only son. Not even the vow that had cursed her life will get in the way of ensuring young Seghrien lived in peace. But how to tell this demoness that?

"I... I cannot ask another to pay my debts!" she quickly grasped onto the first viable excuse that crossed her desperate mind. "I am the one who asked this favour of you, I must be the one to repay the debt!"

"But you are the 'Claw of the Master'," Senna pointed out, not very impressed at being denied a new toy. "You admitted yourself that you are bound to him. Ever since you accepted his seed into your body, you belong to him!"

For a moment, Ikessa stared dumbstruck at the succubus. "But the Master has never mated with me..." she admitted before she could catch herself. "I... I mean I may have had other mates after Seghrien's death... but they were always drakes..."

"Then how can you..." Senna started to ask, equally dumbstruck. But then a sinister smile crossed her face as a new possibility to get what she wanted, occurred to her. What she wanted, and more. "That does change things!" she smiled to a suddenly worried dragon.

"Mistress?" Ikessa asked, her haunches crouching slightly as her tail curled fearfully between her hindlegs and her crest held completely flat in worry.

"Since Quattor has never... claimed you," Senna smiled deviously. "I want you before he can have his way with you."

"Mistress?" Ikessa questioned, her mind racing to find an escape from this new fate. "I don't understand..."

"Oh, it is completely simple," Senna smirked, stepping closer to run her fingers along the draine's jaw in a parody of a draconic nuzzle. "You do understand that I am the demoness of lust and as such, my cravings need to be fed regularly. And since you haven't been befouled by Quattor's essence, I want you to feed my sexual appetite for today. That is all there is to it, I promise!"

"Is... is that really all?" Ikessa dared to ask. She did not look forward to anything involving this creature... especially anything sexual. But if it would keep her whelp safe from them, she would be willing to do anything. "I... I'll accept your conditions then."

"Wonderful," Senna cheered with a delighted clap of her hands. "Hold on for a bit, will you?" she suddenly asked before her spectre snapped out of existence. Ikessa stared a little confused at the spot where the image had stood only moments before, slowly recalling the Master had done something similar all those years ago when she had first acted as his Claw. Then, she felt the familiar sizzle of Mana igniting. Only, there was another sensation of vertigo... as if... as if the world itself was scrunched and folded like one of the kobold potters so often did with the clay they prepared for the potter's wheel.

Then, to her utter astonishment, something like a... cave entrance appeared in thin air. Through the hole in space, she could see an apartment with stone walls and a lush red carpet on a dark wooden floor. The window seemed to look out over something that the draine thought resembled descriptions she had heard of a busy harbour, with a statue of a lion standing near the water's edge, his arm outstretched as he pointed a sword at something over the ocean. Mistress Senna, in the flesh this time, stepped through the hole and it disappeared behind her with an audible pop.

"Mistress!" Ikessa yelped in shock, this time backtracking for real. But her shocked retreat only lasted until her rump bumped against the stone wall of the cavern. "What... How...?"

"I have come to collect my payment as we have just agreed," Senna smirked as she approached the startled dragon. "You must feel honoured that I have decided to come, for it is expensive and dangerous to create a portal without a proper set of Portalstones."

"I... didn't expect to pay my dues this quickly," Ikessa admitted, struggling to get a grip on her emotions again. With a final breath to gather courage for her whelp's sake, she stepped forward and with closed eyes, forced herself to lean her head into the demoness's embrace. Which, to her shock turned out to be much easier to allow than she had thought possible. As Senna's fingers brushed up against the sensitive scales of her jaw, she gasped in delight.

"So, how... how will this work then?" Ikessa asked, fighting the sudden illogical urge to purr in delight as the succubus started to pet her. "Am I supposed to lick you..." The mistress's influence was powerful and already she could feel herself dampen at the thought of sating carnal desires, the burn of her vow all but forgotten. The fact that it was to be with this loathsome creature she wanted to avoid at all costs became less and less of an issue as Senna worked at a sensitive spot just below her jaw.

"Actually," Senna finally smirked when her hand glided down the dragon's neck and earned a rumble of approval when she found the particularly sensitive spot she was looking for. "I have something much better in mind. Something I think that will be most... interesting to experiment with."

The demoness stepped away and Ikessa let slip a sudden whine of loss as she opened her eyes to see where her mistress had gone to. She was just in time to see the shadow of transformation lift from Senna. Only now, instead of the light-blue demoness she had spoken to before, there stood another dragon. And not just any dragon... but Seghrien himself!

"S-Seggy?" Ikessa whimpered, and not thinking, she rushed forward to embrace her original love. "Oh, my love!" she whimpered as she leaned heavily against the strong, scarred chest. "I've missed you so much!"

Seghrien purred in delight, reaching down to nuzzle his mate as he curled a wing around the slightly smaller draine. Ikessa eagerly reciprocated the nuzzle with an affectionate croon of her own, only too happy to have her lost love back again.

"I know, my dear," he rumbled in that deep growling voice she had missed for years. "It has been far too long!"

"I don't know how you managed to be the Claw for so many years," Ikessa whined, a young foolish draine again as she squirmed delightedly, crawling in as deep as she could beneath the protective wing. "It has barely been a decade and I already feel utterly spent! I don't know how I'll be able to continue for much longer!"

"Don't worry, my darling," Seghrien comforted the frightened draine. "I'm here to help!"

That turned out to have been the wrong thing to say, even though it was what Ikessa longed with her entire being to hear. The illusion shattered painfully and the draine pulled away from the Mistress who had taken on the body of the drake she so desperately loved.

"Please, mistress," Ikessa begged, tears streaming down her snout which she turned away so as not to look upon the corruption of her dearest dreams. She finally understood what the succubus had in mind, and though her desire to be mounted by him again was writhing painfully in her chest, the thought of this betrayal of his memory broke her heart. "Not him..."

"I just thought it would make this easier," Senna commented in Seghrien's voice, not sounding very apologetic in the least. Still, the crest on the drake's head lifted unconsciously in surprise that this draine was able to see through the illusion.

"I thank you for your kindness," Ikessa lied, her revolution for this creature soaring along with her desire. "But not him. Anyone but him. I want to remember my mate as he was, not as you present him to be..."

"That is understandable, I guess," Senna sighed, obviously disappointed. "Will this do then?" The question was asked in a new voice, one the draine did not recognize immediately. Though still audibly that of a drake in his prime, it had a slightly higher pitch than one would expect a proud dragon would have. Ikessa turned her attention back to the succubus and then stared in disbelief at the form the demoness decided to present herself as this time.

Of all the male dragons on Selebore, why in Guillavarth's name would she want the Shameblood to fuck her?

"Sorry, couldn't resist!" Gahntuar smirked confidently as he stepped closer to her to give her an affectionate nuzzle. Despite being powerfully drawn to the form of her sworn enemy, Ikessa couldn't help but pull instinctively away from the green-black snout. For a moment, the draine eyed the exit of the cave... could she escape? Dared she, with the fate of little Seghrien in the balance? She turned back to where Gahntuar stood, only to snort again in surprise when she noticed that the succubus had shifted again, this time into some non-descript pale-blue drake.

"It will be easier to pay your debt if you aren't so picky!" the strange drake teased, this time using Senna's own voice again, though distorted somewhat by a male, draconic muzzle.

"I... just not Seghrien!" Ikessa repeated her statement like a mantra, her legs feeling suddenly weak when the spicy scent of this highly sexual creature's erection reached her snout. Back when she first had met Seghrien, she would normally have eagerly contorted herself to catch a glimpse of his phallus. But even though she allowed her two trusted lieutenants to mate her from time to time, in the years that had followed her first mate's death her interest in the male organ had waned quite a bit. Harkor was reviving it somewhat again, but as long as her vow persisted its annoying burn in her chest, the sheer joy of playing with her partner's excitement had always been lacking. Now, however... she could not bring herself to look at it even as she felt all the craving of her body to feel its touch increase to a feverish intensity.

"Relax," the drake with her rumbled soothingly, taking a little bit of time to give the conflicted draine a comforting nuzzle. "You will enjoy yourself, I guarantee it!"

Ikessa did not reply. Instead, she stood her ground as expected, with her head low in submission. As the drake circled her, she merely accepted her fate, dutifully lifting her tail for the inquisitive snout. On one wind, she felt absolutely revolted at how easily she had given in to the mistress's whims, while on the other her body screamed for the pleasures of the flesh this creature promised. But she could do this, for the sake of her only whelp and to appease the vow in her chest, she could...

All thought suddenly fled her mind as the drake hauled himself onto her back without so much as a warning. The impatient drake just took what he wanted, without even the slightest whiff of her scent nor the barest touch of a tongue. Was this supposed to be the pinnacle of sexuality? The draine could hardly believe it as she felt how the drake on her back danced about in a crude attempt to stabilize himself. Again, honouring their agreement, Ikessa widened her stance and crouched her chest a bit, giving the drake a better grip on her haunches and a more exposed angle to work with. It was more instinctual than true experience on her part, but the movement seemed to have worked as the drake stilled almost immediately, more secure in his mounting of her. Immediately, his haunches started to move in quick humps as he probed for her opening.

Maybe, it was the fact that Senna was also female by nature, thus she had no real experience in the male's sexual role? Ikessa tried to think of the reason for the drake's almost whelp-like eagerness to bury his shaft as she desperately fought the instinctual desire to entwine tails with her latest mate. That was a courtesy she would not show this unfairly privileged being that only had to snap her fingers to get whatever she wanted. She would not …

Ikessa's mind went suddenly blank as the drake finally managed to find her entrance. He growled like a horny adolescent and with an eager shove, buried himself deep within her folds. Ikessa yelped in shock as she was violated so drastically. Had this been a normal male, such a careless penetration of a draine not in heat would have been severely painful, but instead, she was mating with the demoness of lust herself. The mere presence of Senna was enough foreplay for her body to be prepared for this rough penetration and the hot shaft slid into her body effortlessly.

After barely taking the time to make sure he was securely inside her, the drake on her back pulled his haunches away again. Despite herself, Ikessa started to whine at the feeling of the ridges on the thick phallus scraping against her vagina walls as he pulled out, only for her whining to turn in a loud, lustful wail as he pushed back in again. Yet despite her loathing of the creature on top of her and the role she was forced into, a weak orgasm crashed over her mind and she lost all will to resist the influence of the succubus on her. Mindlessly, her tail twined around the drake's own and she started to push back with each of his thrusts, desperate to feel his knot swell inside of her.

The drake on top of her rumbled in eager satisfaction as her tail gripped his own and somehow, he managed to double his efforts. In no time at all, Ikessa felt the wonderous bulge at the base of his penis press up against her entrance. "Please, give … give it to me!" she tried to beg in draconic, her mind too fogged up to worry if the mistress could even understand it. Not that it mattered either way, as her words only came out in a tangle of lusty moans and groans that even another dragon would be unable to understand. Still, the drake seemed to sense her desperation and with his own pinnacle of pleasure fast approaching, he was eager to burry everything he had to offer into her. With all his strength, he thrust his hips forward, whining as the draine's nether lips strained against his knot.

With a desperate growl, he pulled back one last time before plunging in again with everything he had. This time, Ikessa's pussy swallowed him completely and both dragons yelped in surprise as his scaled stomach pressed up underneath her tail. Running completely on unfamiliar instincts, he tried to pull back again but Ikessa's body held him firmly in place. Still, the firm pressure against the backside of his bulge proved to be the final bit of stimulation he needed. With a powerful roar that shook the cave, the most intense orgasm he had ever experienced crashed into him.

Ikessa felt the drake on top of her shudder for a moment as they tied before he uttered a full-blown roar. Then the first searing hot jet of dead cum was shot into her depths. The feeling of him ejaculating into her proved too much for her senses and she reached her own mind-numbing orgasm.

Senna was still shuddering in delight as the male orgasm started to fade away. Why in all her centuries of existence had she never considered trying her most favourite activity from this perspective? The raw desire even before she...he started the mating process and strength of the final release was beyond what he could have ever imagined... no wonder males were so easy to twist to her whims. Then, as that thought occurred to him, he realized that his window of opportunity was quickly slipping away. His orgasm had been so powerful that he had nearly forgotten his devious intentions behind the mating in the first place. But at least he came before the draine beneath him did and as such, she was still recovering from her own orgasm. There was still time for him to pull this off.

He will need to gain more experience with this male form to avoid losing track of his objectives again, he decided as he moulded his favourite Manashape. The compulsion shape formed easily enough even though Senna had taken on the form of a dragon, and with practised ease, he slipped it past the draine's mental defences which was still too much weakened by the most powerful orgasm she had experienced in nearly a decade to even notice that Mana was being manipulated.

Only, instead of taking hold as it was meant to, Senna felt the shape being rebuffed violently by a golden aura. The backlash of his shape's destruction was strong enough to leave Senna with a serious headache.

"M-Mistress..." Ikessa wheezed as she finally regained enough of her senses to recall where she was. "That was..." Her tail curled even tighter around her mate's own and her vaginal muscles rippled around the shaft in her, desperately milking it for cum that could never bear life, for demons were made to be sterile. Still, Ikessa couldn't hold back a contented purr as the natural endorphins of the afterglow was powerful enough for her to not care about who was inside her and what had been done.

"I..." the drake growled, infuriated that the foolproof plan had not paid off for once. Disgusted with having yet another toy denied him, he tried to pull away from the draine only to yelp in surprise when his knot tugged painfully against his groin. With another snarl of frustration, a shadow of transformation passed over him, returning the demoness to her proper body again and allowing her to quickly step away from this infuriating creature who had summoned her here.

Ikessa looked longingly over her shoulder, upset that the drake chose not to wait out the time they were supposed to be tied together. In her opinion, it was the best part of the afterglow, to feel her mate twitch within the grasp of her body. But at the same time, that sense of disgust reared its ugly head again... disgust at how easily she had given in, how much she enjoyed the mating, and especially at how she already longed for the next time they would be mating. With a shiver, she forced her attention back to the issue at hand. The reason for their meeting in the first place. This succubus was a dangerous creature, even more so than the widely feared Master, she decided. It would be best to get it over with as soon as possible and to avoid meeting her ever again in the future.

And to keep young Seghrien as far from her as possible!

"My... my debt has been paid," Ikessa managed to say, clearing her throat awkwardly as she regarded the demoness. "When... when can I expect to hear from your contact?"

"How... " Senna started to ask, staring dumbstruck at the dragon who turned out to be completely beyond her reach. There was only one explanation that made any kind of sense... an unbreakable vow. It was even more binding than her beloved compulsion, but also impossible to force upon another for the one who made the vow had to be completely willing to follow it through at the time. How had Quattor managed to put THAT on her? Better yet, what did the vow entail? The demoness was about to enquire but then thought better of it. Though she was desperate to know, it may be better to not let the draine know what she had tried to do to her just now. It might make things... awkward... and considering the talents of this dragon, also dangerous in the future.

"I will arrange a meeting for you immediately," Senna sneered, struggling for once to hide her disappointment. "I am a Lady of my word after all!"

Ikessa doubted that statement very much, but at least she had gotten what she had wanted. True, it had cost her more than she had expected, but it could have been much worse.

"You are most kind, thank you, mistress!" Ikessa replied with a stiff, formal bow. Despite the formal pleasantries or even the fact that they had just mated, a deep coldness that both parties could sense descended between the two.

Senna did not reply to that. Instead, she opened her portal back from whence she had come and with a snap, she was gone. Ikessa considered the spot where the portal had been for a moment longer before, with another shudder, she turned to leave the cave as well. She flinched to herself as she felt the cooling cum dribble down her one leg. After this encounter, she was sure that there was no way she would remain in the service of Juinkarr once her vow had been fulfilled, she decided.

She would see to it that the hearts of the Lúg'hir and his rider were delivered to the Master of Juinkarr and she would kill the draine that had ruined her life. Then she would take young Seghrien and leave the shadowlands behind completely. She will be damned if she allowed any of the demons to get their claws on her only whelp, even if it meant leaving the continent itself for good. Myth said that the first humans to arrive on Selebore before the Twilight came from a series of volcanic islands that were destroyed long ago, so there had to be a place where she and Seghrien would be safe from Juinkarr. And she would find it. Fernel could achieve his ambition and take her title of Claw of the Master, she would be happy to leave that particular lieutenant behind. Though she hoped her other lieutenant, Harkor would join her in leaving this madness behind.

But before that could happen, she needed to take part in one last, glorious hunt.

But even before that, a bath.

***

"Echar, NO!" Gahntuar snapped sternly, but the chuckle in his voice destroyed any hope of keeping the other dragon in check.

"Come on guys, we can do this!" Echar shouted in glee as three more dragons joined him in wrestling the Lúg'hir onto his side amidst delighted laughter. "Shaille, you grab hold of that forepaw there!" the teal coloured drake ordered the others like a commander on the battlefield. "Jhevar, you take the other. Havon and I will... hey!"

"Come here, you little rascal!" Gahntuar growled in mock agitation as he carefully closed his forepaws firmly around the shoulders of the leading troublemaker before they could be immobilized as ordered.

"Hey, dad!" Echar whined as Gahntuar rolled completely onto his back, lifting the young whelp off the cave floor in the process. At six years of age, he was already half the size of his father but still helpless in a mock wrestle against the more experienced drake. Though the group of hatchlings were growing up fast and soon he would have real trouble if they tried to wrestle him to the ground again. "No fair! Put me down... dad? DAD!"

"When fighting, there is no such thing as fair!" the elder drake grinned, pinning the youngster to his chest. For good measure, he folded a wing around the troublemaker to muffle any pleas to his siblings, who upon seeing the eldest of their clutch being overpowered, wisely held back. Echar struggled in vain against the firm membranes of his father's wing until exhaustion got the better of him.

"Careful not to smother him," an amused female spoke up from the cavern entrance.

"Aunty Laethia!" the three whelps who were still free chirped delightedly as they raced over to greet the new arrival.

"Welcome back, Laeth," Gahntuar greeted her, grinning as the struggles under his wing started in earnest again. He held his whelp for a bit longer before releasing the young drake who eagerly joined his clutch-mates in greeting the new arrival. "How was the trip?"

"Long!" the one-winged draine sighed, greeting the whelps affectionately as if they were her own before lumbering over to where Gahntuar lay on a pile of fresh hay. "Exhausting!" Ceremoniously, she dropped onto her side next to him with an undignified huff, grateful to get her weight off her tired feet. "It has been a long time since I wished the Nacre Tower knew a shape that would regrow lost limbs!"

"You don't have to visit every nest this often," the iridescent black-green drake rumbled. Still, he hushed his hatchlings away from her and curled a comforting wing over her. "And you have those other dragons who are more than willing to help you with the nests, remember!"

"I know," she sighed, smiling as the energetic youngsters also started to relax against her exposed stomach scutes. "My squad of whelp-sitters are indispensable, but I would still like to keep tabs on the hatchlings in my territory myself."

Two younger draines not yet interested in having a clutch themselves, and even one drake who it turned out was infertile but desperate for hatchlings, was very much inspired by her dedication to the nests around The Camp and quickly followed her example, assisting in hunting and caring for the youngsters as if they were their own. The small group quickly got the name "Laethia's squad", and though not officially part of the order, they were so integral to their current operations that the other dragons had started honouring them with the title of Lúgae as well.

"I guess I can understand" the Lúg'hir stated as he started to soothe her aching feet with tender licks. Laethia purred in delight as his tongue curled about her toes, and she stretched them wide to allow him better access to do his work.

A sudden soft snore broke the silence of the moment and he looked down to where his four whelps were laying in an untidy heap against Laethia's side, fast asleep. It was always fascinating how youngsters can be too full of energy one moment and passed out the next. He smiled to himself, enjoying the rare moment of tranquillity.

"Where is Lainah?" Laethia asked softly so as not to wake the youngsters.

"She is out hunting," Gahntuar admitted, crest a little flat in embarrassment. Though he sometimes took the time to hunt during the times he was on leave, his skills had atrophied badly in favour of playing the leader to the Dragonriders. Then, with a smirk, he nodded to the pile of sleeping hatchlings. "Why do you ask? Do you think they will notice if you and I sneak away for a bit? I'm sure Lainah is nearby and I think she would also be interested in some bonding time..."

"I could have used that 'bonding time' last week, you know!" she growled in mock annoyance, but still allowed a delighted purr to escape her as Gahntuar started to nuzzle at the soft scales beneath her jaw.

"You were in heat then," the drake growled as his desire quickly rose. "And we agreed to wait until Lainah's clutch is grown before we make a new one as well."

"I know, but still!" she whined. "It was hard not to give in. I'm still antsy, you know..."

"Then allow me to reward your self-control," Gahntuar smirked, gliding his inquisitive snout down her neck. Then just as he reached her shoulder, there was the whoosh of feathers from the entrance of the cave.

"For a creature who can foresee the future, your timing is absolutely horrendous!" Gahntuar growled without looking around. He could tell by the sound alone that it was not one of the gryphons who had intruded on his privacy, and no natural bird would enter the cave Lainah decided to raise their clutch in, willingly. So that left only one other option. One who seemed to have a very consistent, and annoying he must add, habit of interrupting him just when things were getting heated between him and one of his mates.

"Away with you, do not tarry nor fear; For soon the call of destiny draws near!" the phoenix squawked. Gahntuar ignored him, continuing his journey of discovery along the black draine's back... or at least, he pretended to ignore the bird. Though the phoenix was often seen around The Camp, it rarely spoke to anyone anymore. But when it did, it was always wise to carefully consider what it had to say. Still, the drake didn't appreciate the bird's sense of timing and chose to annoy it by pretending to have better things to do.

"Can't you see we are in the middle of something?" Laethia growled, narrowing her eyes at the bird and wondering if Gahntuar will be able to hit it with a fireball. It is said the phoenixes could return from being burnt complete to ash, so no harm done, right?

"Ignore him," Gahntuar growled. "He has the habit of finding me just as I get amorous!"

"Maybe he just wants to watch!" Laethia smirked. "I think I have read that about phoenixes somewhere..."

At that, the phoenix clacked its beak in annoyance. Still Gahntuar ignored him and turned his head to regard Laethia. "So, what do you say about going to find Lainah?"

"I'm too tired to walk far right now," Laethia remarked as she carefully started to sit up again, taking care not to wake the youngsters. As it were, the young female mumbled something incoherent in her sleep before resettling herself comfortably again. Happy that the youngsters were still sound asleep, she stood up completely and started to make her way to one of the more secluded chambers at the back of the cavern, raising her tail just enough to reveal her already moist folds for Gahntuar.

"Heed the words I have said! When the call comes you must forge ahead!" the phoenix insisted, but though he was talking to Gahntuar, the bird's gaze drifted lazily towards the black draine's display.

"Can I finish what I started at least?" Gahntuar growled, glaring at the phoenix as he rose as well. "In private?"

"Sure," the phoenix muttered dejected, though if he was upset with Gahntuar seemingly not taking interest in him or the fact that they wanted privacy the drake wasn't sure.

"Where is it you want us to go anyway?" the drake grumbled, not expecting an answer.

"I thought you said to ignore him," Laethia growled from the entrance to the adjacent cavern.

"The morrow is hazy, the journey's end is uncertain!" the phoenix admitted, still dejected. "Except, you must pass through the valley of sorrow and ruin!"

"That is not very reassuring!" Gahntuar sighed. "Fine, I'll consider your warning... when it is time. Right now, I've got more urgent things to think about." He dismissed the phoenix with a flick of his tail and with a lusty rumble, started to trot after the black female. Only, a worrying thought came unbidden to him. "Wait a minute!" he gasped, stopping dead in his tracks and turning to regard the phoenix who was about to fly away. "You want us to go to Juinkarr?"

"No, silly!" the phoenix snapped, actually sounding a little appalled at the idea. "You're supposed to go way more south than that!"

"South?" Gahntuar frowned. "Where in those vaulted phrased of yours did you even hint at the south?" Then he suddenly chuckled as if he had won an argument. "So, you can speak plainly."

"Oh, shut up and go have fun without me!" the phoenix snapped, all illusion of divine calling gone. He ruffled his feathers and twittered something apparently obscene in the unintelligible speech of the phoenixes before with another whoosh of his wings, he departed. Gahntuar merely chuckled as he watched the phoenix fly off again. Then with a last check to make sure his hatchlings were still fast asleep, he trotted out of the cavern with an eager rumble to join the impatient Leathia in the adjacent cavern.

***

"What do you think this is about?" Roccan'hir Merec asked his dragon as the small group who lead the Lúgroccae started to arrive for this unexpected, but urgent meeting. There was a soft hum of excitement as this was important enough that Gahntuar's second in command could not handle it herself and the Lúg'hir had to be called away from his week of leave with his family earlier than expected. To their side, Lúg'her Laethia was talking softly to one of the members of the delegation from the Amber Tower who had arrived an hour or so before and who had called this meeting.

"Not sure," Lúg'hir Gahntuar rumbled thoughtfully as he watched the trainers and Battlewing commanders gather together in the War-room. "But I did have our phoenix tell me that it is our destiny to go south when we are called."

"Oh?" Merec replied, more than a little intrigued. "And when were you going to tell me?"

"It was earlier this morning," the drake commented with an off-hand flick of his snout. "At a very inconvenient time as usual I might add."

"He does have a bad habit of coming to us just when we are riled up, doesn't he?" Merec smirked, nodding a greeting to his old mentor as Roccan'her Harald entered the room. Though the old soldier was strictly retired, he continued to offer his service as an adviser to the still inexperienced Lúgroccan council.

"Though his company is welcome, I do wish that he would use that foresight of his to know when the best time is to come to us with one of his riddles!" the dragon complained, a slight wisp of smoke indicating the irritation he had with the firebird.

"Or is it that you are so busy with your mates that you don't allow him time otherwise?" Merec turned to smirk deviously at his dragon, receiving a reprimanding nip that didn't go unnoticed by some of the other members of the council.

"When this is done, I'll show you how much busier I can get with my mates!" Gahntuar growled below his breath. "But you are one to speak... how was your time with Lesley? I hear you are officially back together again?"

"We were just catching up on old times," Merec muttered, glaring at his dragon. "I still think we could have handled our issue better than you did, barging into the topic as you had!"

"I'm glad she is back though," Gahntuar grumbled. At least the large reptile had the decency to look awkward at nearly crippling his rider's prospects when the relationship between the two humans didn't move quickly enough for his liking. "And that you are seeing eye to eye again."

It had come as a shock when their resident leathersmith suddenly decided to return to the peninsula after upending her entire life to follow the fledgling Lúgroccae to the Amber Tower. She had designed their saddles from scratch and had been instrumental in developing the impressive armour, so many had thought she would continue to be a part of the order much like Roccan'her Harald had become. Yet one day some four years ago she suddenly announced that she had needed to return home, supposedly because of family concerns and within a week, she was gone.

Of course, only a secret inner circle within the Lúgroccae knew of the disastrous conversation between her and the Lúg'hir the night before.

Merec had thought that was the end of it and for two years that was the case. But then one day he received a surprising letter from her asking for advice on how to handle a relationship between a beloved niece and a gryphon. It was a delicate and dangerous topic as he well knew, especially in the thinly-frozen lake that was public opinion in the remotest of areas of the tradition-focused Borderlands. But he was able to give her valuable advice from his own experiences, something she was very grateful for. From there, he took the opportunity to try and rebuild their relationship. It was slow work, to say the least, but it paid off and two months ago she finally returned to The Camp.

"As am I," Merec agreed with a smirk. "Especially since it went better than anything I could have hoped for, to be honest!"

"Oh?" Gahntuar suddenly quipped, darting in to sniff at Merec's chest. He rumbled excitedly and quickly explored lower at the promising scent despite Merec's attempts to push the inquisitive snout away. Then with a crest raised in excitement, he chirped victoriously. "Oh!"

"Will you behave?" Merec hissed, glancing around. "We're in public!"

Luckily only the one Battlewing commander, Lúg'gon Ethiene seemed to have noticed the black drake's antics, but the knowing smirk she gave him made his heart sink a bit. Of course, the golden draine would be sharing her suspicions with her rider and sometimes mate, Steivan but as part of that secretive inner circle, the Battlewing commander pair were loyal confidants of theirs in the matter and he could be safe in the knowledge that whatever she thought she knew would remain a secret.

"Good to see you are finally progressing," Gahntuar smirked. "I think it is good to have a mate of your own species to properly breed with. You were taking forever to get anywhere previously."

"We're not mates!" Merec hissed, looking around to make sure their conversation was not being overheard.

"Your scent says otherwise!" Gahntuar challenged. "Do you think she will be more open to hearing me out this time? I mean, just to watch at least?"

"Hold on a bit!" Merec gasped, unintentionally making Gahntuar flinch. He sighed, considering his worried dragon for a bit. "If you allow her the time she needs, maybe she will be more open to you. But just to be clear, we... well we don't have any plans of... breeding!"

"At least not yet!" Gahntuar grinned, feeling better again at the prospect.

"Okay, not yet!" Merec conceded, not yet as confident as his steed.

"That's my Roccan!" Gahntuar rumbled satisfied, giving his rider a quick nuzzle.

"Do you know what this is about?" Roccan'her Harald asked as the elder human walked up to them, unknowingly interrupting Gahntuar's display of affection before it could progress further than needed.

"Not sure," Merec admitted, giving his dragon an evil eye that suggested their discussion of possible future actions was not done just yet. "The only thing I'm aware of is that there was an urgent request from the Triumvirate of the Amber Tower to hold this meeting. Though Gahntuar tells me that our resident phoenix had informed him this morning that we are supposed to be going south."

"Typical phoenixes!" their original mentor grumbled. "You know that most of Selebore are south of us, right?" In all his life during which he had met quite a surprising number of those birds, he had only once heard of a phoenix giving a direct answer to someone. That one dying phoenix at the Siege of Corrumwhell that had taken a crossbow bolt in his stead. It was a statement that haunted the old soldier even to this day:

'Prepare the Lúgroccae for war!'

"True, but at least I know it has nothing to do with Juinkarr!" Gahntuar smirked, completely oblivious to his old mentor's thoughts. When the two humans squinted at him as if he had lost his mind, his smile only broadened to the point where normal folks might think he was snarling in anger. "Yeah, I kind of shocked him out of his poetry when I suggested it."

"Why would you even have considered that?" Harald asked, not in the slightest impressed.

"In his original statement, he mentioned something of a 'valley of sorrow and ruin'," the dragon rumbled a little offhand. "Kind of made sense at the time, I guess. At least I'm guessing that we will be finding out now!" He motioned to the entrance of their building with a flick of his snout just as Lekreh and Glenn entered the large room that made up nearly two-thirds of the entire building.

"Good, now that we are all here, can we please take our places," Merec announced quickly, eager to hear exactly what all the excitement was about.

"What is this about?" the new gryphon arrival asked the same thing everyone else had, amidst the rumbles of small talk being ended as everyone took their places around the room. For a change, the single decent-sized table that was usually left standing mostly unused in one corner was now placed in its proper position in the centre of the circle of chairs for the Roccae's benefit. Once the riders were seated, their Lúgae crouched comfortably behind their riders.

"Most of you will already have met our guests," Merec started, "except for our new Aerial Combat Instructors, I believe. May introduce the Triumvirate of the Amber Tower: Archmagus Vicia, her Head Councillor Master Alund and Vice Head Councillor Master Hurthor." The human indicated towards the head of the table where, in the Roccan'hir's usual spot, sat a rather diminutive, dark-grey she-wolf. Then again, she probably seemed smaller than she truly was since she was being flanked by a large chestnut stallion on one side and an even larger reddish bull on the other.

"Welcome to the Lúgroccan Camp, Triumvirate." Gahntuar officially greeted them.

"Thank you for receiving us so graciously," Archmagus Vicia returned the greeting. "And thank you for responding so quickly to our summons."

"Though, why call us in as well?" Glenn asked, reaching back to absentmindedly scratch her gryphon's neck feathers where he sat squatted slightly behind her.

"In all the years that we have resided here in the shadow of the Amber Tower, a meeting like this had never called before," Merec replied quickly. His old mentors immediately noticed that he was on his nerves about the extraordinary events, though the rest of their command structure didn't seem to be aware of it. "Not when the gryphon aeries to the north wanted us kicked out, nor when Thendor attacked Lamthorre, or the Alliance of Light started to bully the kingdoms of the Barthon Gulf into building Temples of Light in each of the large cities. Not even when Ikessa launched her last attack on our territory in the hope of luring us into a trap, four years ago. I sense that something important is at foot here, and even though you are technically retired from the Lúgroccae, I value your experience greatly and would like to hear your input as well. At least, every one of the original council who is still in the vicinity."

"Understood, sir," Lekreh commented, secretly glad to still be considered irreplaceable by the Roccan'hir. "Though, where is Roccan'her Eric?"

It had been two years since Glenn and Lekreh had given their final class to eager Lúgroccan trainees, handing the reigns of tutorship over to a very qualified pair from the early days shortly after their founding. And though the human and gryphon pair had initially indicated that they would like to return to the peninsula, they had instead found a new home in the local equine town, away from... prejudges. Of course, as founding members of the Lúgroccae, they still liked to hang about and offer words of advice when they thought it was needed. As such, it was not strange to see them in The Camp from time to time.

Roccan'her Harald on the other hand decided to stay with the Lúgroccae in an advisory role after his supposed retirement. As such, he still lived in the quarters built for him within The Camp itself. It was only Roccan'her Eric who decided to move completely away, acquiring himself a farm as he had so often claimed he wanted to do back in the times when he was still a successful dragonslayer.

"Roccan'her Eric's farm is near Garrowull," Merec replied quickly. "Even if we sent a dragon out to go fetch him for this meeting, it would have taken too long to bring him here, I'm afraid." When there were no other questions, Merec turned to the dark wolf who was patiently waiting for the opportunity to address the assembly. "Archmagus Vicia," he smiled. "I believe everyone is present, so you may begin."

The Archmagus of the Amber Tower cleared her throat habitually before she began. "Thank you Roccan'hir," she started in a crisp, clear voice that spoke of years of leading a council herself. "Earlier this morning, we received a delegation from Serephal at the Amber Tower. They have come with great haste, asking for assistance in their spring offensive against the orc horde that is still in possession of their eastern territories... you are aware of the events in the Ealyndore Forest, I presume?"

"Somewhat," Merec admitted. "Some two decades ago, the orcs invaded the north-eastern regions of Ealyndore... I believe it was specifically to drive a wedge between the elves and the small dwarven clan living around the Echoren River. But despite some heavy fighting, neither side has managed to drive the other out of the region completely, so the war has practically ground to a standstill. And though there has been little happening in the way of combat, neither side has been willing to accept defeat. There had been campaigns by both sides on and off, without any real noteworthy progress. The elves know the forest too well to be dislodged and the orcs continue to enjoy uninterrupted support from the Shadowlands... Though, we have heard some rumours that the fighting had escalated again recently for the first time in years, but nothing concrete."

"Calling the war in Ealyndore at a standstill would not be entirely accurate," master Alund, the Head Councillor for the Amber Tower stated smoothly. The chestnut stallion leaned back a little in his chair before he continued. "True, there hasn't been a large set-piece battle in the forest for years now as you mentioned, but the elves and the orcs are continuously at each other's throat and not a week goes by without some kind of raid or ambush happening between the two."

"But, how does it affect us?" Harald asked. "As I understand, the Circle of Five as a whole will not get involved with any kind of fighting unless it affects the Circle directly and your United Councils support any proposed action unanimously."

"Or are you suggesting that we go on your behalf since we are not officially part of the Circle of Five?" Merec queried thoughtfully. "I understand that each Tower can act independently according to its internal jurisdiction on certain matters. Therefore, it is completely within your jurisdiction to send us in your stead."

"Very astute, Roccan'hir," the Archmagus smiled. "Indeed, you have come far from the young magus who had responsibilities thrust upon him he was not truly ready for. But in all honesty, the elven delegation had not requested our assistance, but yours specifically."

That caught the assembly by surprise, and more than one dragon rumbled in delight at finally being recognized as being noteworthy. Gahntuar was not one of them.

"So why did they not come to us directly then?" he growled upset. The black drake could already guess the answer and it annoyed him to no end.

"To be frank," the Amber Vice Head Councillor spoke up, taking the annoyed dragon's glare in stride. "Outside the Lumor clan of dragons and a few youngsters with an overactive imagination, the Lúgroccae is not widely respected!" Hurthor was big, even for a bovine and his deep reddish fur and wide-sweeping horns cut an imposing figure, one that he often relied on as an excuse not to beat around the bush, even to a room full of dragons staring him down. "When you came here originally, you've agreed to defer any action you take to our judgment. Therefore, we needed to give you our blessing before you can go on such a large mission, be it under the banner of the Amber Tower or your own. The other peoples of Selebore are aware of this, so naturally, they will approach us first when it comes to anything of true importance."

"What do you mean 'True Importance'?" Jerielle growled, her frill now also raised in agitation but keeping her composure civil as was expected of the command structure of the Lúgroccae.

"We have been instrumental in driving the Umbrin dragons from the entire northern Curndors," Lúg'gon Fargamer agreed, the other Battlewing commander just managing to hide his frustration a little less effective than his superior. "As such, not only do the Lumor Dragons now have a safe home range, but the Kentereal Highlands are also safe from dragon attacks. This you cannot deny as having been of true importance."

"What Master Hurthor is trying to say," master Alund quickly added, sharing a meaningful glare with his colleague "is that this will be the first time the Lúgroccae will have to travel so far abroad, and in more significant numbers than ever before. As for his phrasing, that could have been better put, I agree." Hurthor wanted to object, but the stallion silenced him with a raised finger. "Your work in securing the Northern Curndors is of great importance to the local society, but this time your actions may have repercussions that will affect the entire Selebore. This in turn means that to accept this request from the elves, you had to clear it with us first as per our agreement all those years ago. Think of it this way: For the elves to have come to us first merely saved time on the latter."

"What do you mean in significant numbers?" Merec asked this time. "Surely one Lúgroccan squad will be more than enough to act as an escort, even in a war-torn area. Five dragon-rider pairs command a decent presence, no matter what anyone says about our discipline or training."

"I know the only paid jobs you could land up to now were escorts and... recoveries of various descriptions," the Archmagus admitted patiently, withdrawing a large map of the southern Curndors and unravelling it across the table with a quick Manashape. Everyone around the table leaned forward to look at the map, even the tetrapods who preferred the more natural holographic illusions cast by some of the riders to illustrate the lay of the land better. "But this will be something completely different from the battles against the Umbrins you have been fighting this past decade, I assure you. Just before the winter snows blew in, the orc horde had reopened hostilities. In a campaign the size of which had not been seen in over five years, they managed to push the elvan front-line back to well beyond the Horthnen River again. As such, the orcs have had the ruins of Eydelvise Palace completely unopposed for nearly three months now, and the elves are desperate to push them off the broken fortress before they can get proper supplies in and start re-erecting some of the defences. So, you will not be merely conducting another escort service or guarding duty, but actually, be participating in a full-scale military campaign."

"Or finding someone's lost pet," master Hurthor rumbled, referring to the recent habit of Garrowull to start hiring a Lúgroccan pair or two to retrieve escaped convicts who were considered extremely dangerous. Master Alund cleared his throat and glared again at the bovine.

"As you know," the equine added quickly, even before one of the dragons let slip an irritated growl as he pointed to the spot on the map. "Eydelvise played an important role in defending the elves from outside raids during The Shattering and well into the Dark Age until it was destroyed by Umbrunor!" He shot Gahntuar a meaningful look as well, but the mentioned dragon's grandson was too preoccupied with the spot on the map to have noticed. "As such, it has always been culturally of great importance to the elven collective conscious. And even if that were not the case, Eydelvise is a strategically important location even though it is still only a ruin, and as such has been fiercely fought over since the start of this war. Therefore, with things as they stand in the whole of the Barthon Gulf, they are looking for assistance all over."

"How do things look for the elves at the moment?" Harald asked, sensing where this conversation was heading and not liking it one bit.

"Not that good," Archmagus Vicia admitted. "The lupine garrison had left completely by this stage, citing their war with Thendor as the cause for their withdrawal. Thendor on the other hand refuses to call back the meagre forces they have in the forest. They claim that they intend to keep their word to support Serephal in any way they can, which at this stage is only putting unnecessary strain on the elven forces. Though, the rumours have it that the humans only want to secure the elves' assistance in Gulf but is unwilling to dedicate resources to their allies in their fight against the orcs.

"The leonae and Tigrae are also in the process of leaving, thanks to the escalating hostilities between the Caravien Alliance and the Tithen Alliance. Luckily, they still have a decent presence in the forest, but I fear it will not be for long. It should come as no surprise I guess; the peoples of the Caravien Plains have always been suspicious about magic and as such relations with the deer and lizards to their east has always been strained. But why allow such petty cultural differences to come in the way of helping out a third who is in desperate need now is beyond me!"

"What about the Alliance of Light?" Merec asked, failing to hide a sneer at the memory of them. "Surely they will be only too eager to fight the orcs. If we show up, they'll be gone before we even get a chance to land. That is if they don't have an ambush planned for us instead."

"You haven't heard?" master Alund asked surprised. "The Alliance has started recalling their supporters across all of Selebore back to their Temples of Light. It seems that, according to that prophecy of theirs, Juinkarr is set to 'rise from the ashes' sometime between the start of this coming summer and mid-fall. They are preparing to make some kind of Grand Stand on banks of the Belthean River at the start of summer to halt this coming invasion, come hell or high water."

"Why not march on Juinkarr itself then," Lekreh commented with a disrespectful clack of his beak. "Save us the trouble of being caught between them and whoever lives in Juinkarr at the moment!"

"You remember the Banzinen Incident?" master Alund grinned.

"Not really," Lekreh admitted sheepishly. "The Alliance caught a couple of lions playing at magic a few years back, then using that as a pretext they tried to force the Varanidae into some kind of non-magic agreement they didn't particularly like. So, the whole region nearly came to blows, and the Caravien and Tithen Alliances are still at odds with one another as you pointed out just now. That is about it. I'm afraid that the Alliance had tried desperately to recruit me to get some air support before we left the peninsula, so I kind of tune out everything I hear of them."

"Right," the horse magus replied, a little less impressed with the gryphon. "The upper command of the Alliance in the Caravien Plains had started taking a very anti-magical stance, something to do with a 'Return to their original roots'. Though it started on the peninsula with the High commissioner himself, it may be the leonae and Ursidae populations who were mostly responsible for creating the Caravien Alliance, going above and beyond what Thendor had said. Not only did they start to seek out and destroy any magical item they could find, but there were suggestions of restarting the old witchhunts in the south as well. Of course, the Varanidae and Cervidae would not stand for it, especially with the elves at war with the orcs, and they nearly came to blows. Ironic how both sides were willing to start a war despite already being allies in another, only because both sides wanted to impose their cultural viewpoints on one another. Luckily for everyone, the High Commissioner's commanders managed to convince him to withdraw his support to the Caravien Alliance when they saw that it was threatening to rip the Alliance of Light itself apart or things would have been bleak for the south of Selebore indeed."

"The important thing is that the Banzinen Incident damaged the reputation of the Alliance significantly!" Master Hurthor added quickly before his colleague got carried away with his explanation again. "Not enough to weaken their political position significantly I'm afraid, but enough that their numbers had started to drop recently. Therefore, they don't have the strength at the moment to take on Juinkarr on their own as they would have liked."

"More troubling is that it also brought them the ire of the Corel Tower," the equine added quickly "which is always a problem as you well know. Especially now that there has been talking again of the High Commissioner reviving his stance on magic. At least the Juinkarr issue is enjoying most of the Alliance's attention so we don't have to worry about them and the Corel Tower coming to blows just yet."

"The important thing," the Archmagus insisted sternly, "is there are barely any soldiers of the Alliance left in Ealyndore Forest, just enough to claim that they are present wherever anyone opposes the Shadowspawn. So, you don't need to be worried about what the Alliance would think when you arrive. I'm more worried about your lupine riders... will they object to assist the elves when their kin have specifically abandoned them?"

"We left the peninsula when the first rumours of Thendor's plans to invade the Arthulle Lowlands started to circulate," Merec replied. "And we have made no secret to the fact that the Lúgroccae do not support their claims to Lamthorre, so I do not believe they will have a problem if we decide to go."

"What do you mean IF?" Aerhin urged the usually stoic elf strangely animated now at the mention of returning to his old home. "Surely we will go! We are obliged to assist any who asks our aid, are we not?"

"And duty aside, we could use the coin!" Harald added quickly. "Our debtors are eager to see a proper return on their investment, more than the little we could earn for the odd job we were able to land." There were annoyed growls from the few dragons present, but they knew there was too much truth to the statement that they cannot just wish away. "I don't like to be thought of as a mercenary unit either, but we urgently need the fee the elves can pay for our services on the battlefield. We can barely keep up with the instalments as it is."

"There is something more to the orc offensive this time as well," Archmagus Vicia added, her confidence suddenly showing signs of cracking under some hidden pressure. "Unlike the usual modus operandi of the horde where they tended to act in isolated attacks which were organized by the clan chieftains, the recent engagements seemed strangely coordinated across the entire Shadowspawn army. That, despite there being warriors from some six different clans and even a couple of dragons in the area."

"The dragons shouldn't be a problem for an experienced squad of gryphon-knights," Glenn suddenly spoke up, smiling innocently when she received some annoyed glares from the dragons present.

"That would have been the case a decade ago," master Hurthor grumbled. "But it seems that your Umbrin foes have picked up on a few tricks from you themselves. Usually, the dragons fighting in the forest war flew by themselves, doing their own thing. But from what we were told, they now work closely together with the ground forces, delivering a devastating strike before falling back to the safety of their own lines to prevent the gryphons from trapping them."

"I believe it is for this reason that the elves feel your assistance may be crucial," Archmagus Vicia added. "But there is something else that is worrying me. The way the horde is working in a synchronized manner makes me wonder if there isn't a higher power behind these attacks, one with more authority than even an orc-clan chief. For instance, that demon you claim is after you."

"You still do not believe that this... Master exists?" Merec asked with a scowl, not even trying to hide his feelings on the matter.

"Other than your word on what a dead dragon had said before he died, there is nothing to support that one of the Juinkarr demons survived to this day," master Alund replied, also not trying to sound patient for a change.

"Even Felicity was unable to confirm the existence of this 'Master'," master Hurthor added with a snort that suggested he thought the entire discussion around the 'Master' should have been settled and done with long ago. "After dedicating as much time as she could to it in the past decade, she has come up with nothing. Juinkarr seems to be completely inactive..."

"I believe that is what the Circle of Five also said about it in the time of the Bloodhands," Merec grumbled, just loud enough to interrupt the bovine.

"...and," the bull continued, only giving the Roccan'hir an evil eye "she has been unable to find any additional references to collaborate the existence of this supposed demon, other than this mysterious dragon that calls herself the 'Claw of the Master'!"

"A title that the red dragon who had hunted you initially attributed to himself, I might add," master Alund added sternly. "As far as we can tell, this 'Master' business may also have been fabricated by him to get the orcs to assist him with whatever vendetta he had against you. And if it did refer to one of the demons of Juinkarr, it may very well even be a left-over verbal relic from the time of Barathrum's reign over Selebore."

"So why would Ikessa have taken up his role?" Gahntuar asked with a slightly challenging to his voice. "If not to appease some master who had been greatly disappointed by her mate."

"That, you will have to ask her when you finally bring her in," Archmagus Vicia stated calmly. When Merec gave her a questioning look, she added "What I was trying to say when you interrupted me, is that we think that this mysterious blue draine of yours may be behind the sudden shift in success in Ealyndore. A dragon that fits her description had been seen in the area of Eydelvise when the elves had to abandon it."

"Why would she move that far out of the way then?" Lekreh asked. "If she is hunting the Lúg'hir, it makes more sense that she remains here, within striking distance."

"We're not sure," master Alund admitted with a shrug. "Maybe she is trying to recruit forces for another attack like the one that chased you here. Her last offensive had left her without any base of support from which to attack the Lumor dragons. In fact, what do we know exactly of this Claw of the Master?"

"She is female, she is young for her title, she is blue, and she was mated to Seghrien." Jerielle offered an answer, knowing full well that the question was rhetorical. "In all honesty, she has remained very hard to pin down."

"Which is why we need you to go to the forest and confront her," the Archmagus smirked.

"Come again?" Merec gasped surprised.

"We want to go join up with the elves as they had requested and draw out the Claw of the Master!" master Hurthor repeated impatiently. "It has been nearly a decade and all evidence is indicating that this Master who you claim is after you was merely a fabrication by the red dragon to get to Lúg'hir Gahntuar here. If you are right, she may be the only one who can finally put this nonsense to rest!"

"But is that wise?" Merec insisted, giving his dragon a quick look. Gahntuar seemed to have zoned out again, staring at the map once more. "I mean if this Master is real and it is he who is waiting for us in the southern Curndors..."

"We have little other choices, I'm afraid." Archmagus Vicia said. "The Coral Tower has been very vocal as of late, trying to convince the united councils that the whole Lúgroccae... 'experiment' should be stopped, and the dragons turned away from the Amber Tower. The Ivory Tower has always been rather supportive of them, but recently the Jet Tower has started to voice concern about the lack of evidence regarding any kind of demonic entity at Juinkarr and the strain the Lúgroccae is putting on the Bloodstorm Treaty. If the Reds manage to convince the Blacks to side with them, then there will be very little we will be able to do to help you. Your riders will be forced to become initiates of the Amber Tower and the dragons will have to disperse."

"The Bloodstorm Treaty is way out of date, even the Whites can't argue that!" Merec argued.

"I have to agree with Roccan'hir Merec on this," Harald agreed. "Especially if one considers the Alliance's prophecy that Juinkarr is to rise again in the next two to six months, which as I understand the magic behind it correctly, can only happen when the Roccan'hir and the Lúg'hir dies. Now I know that in my younger years I've never given much credence to such things as prophecies, but in the past decade and a half, I've come to realize that it is not smart to disregard things you don't like only because it doesn't fit into your view of the world. I know what I said before, but sending them to assist the elves, just to try and draw out this unknown threat seems rather desperate and reckless to me."

"I know," the she-wolf agreed patiently. She liked the older human and have come to listen to his opinions as if he was one of her own advisers and not that of the Roccan'hir next to her. "I don't like it either, and I promise to call you back if this proves to be fruitless or too dangerous, but..."

"I'll go!" Gahntuar suddenly announced to everyone's surprise.

For a moment there was only a stunned silence in the room as everyone wondered if they had heard correctly.

"Are you sure?" Merec whispered to him, a little concerned that the drake wasn't thinking clearly about this. "I know what Eydelvise means to you."

"'The valley of sorrow and ruin'," the Lúg'hir muttered, just loud enough for Merec sitting directly in front of him, though Harald on his side also noticed the phrase with worry. Then a little harder, he added "I also have my reasons to return to Eydelvise palace. It is something I have been meaning to do but have always found excuses to avoid. I... I must see this through now, or I will never be able to."

"We will join you!" Jerielle stated firmly before Merec could utter a reply, nuzzling the elf before her with an affectionate grin. "Anyway, I get the feeling that my rider would be going without me if he had to!"

"The thought had crossed my mind," Aerhin admitted with a smirk "and I know the other elves will also feel the same once word of this gets out."

"It is settled then," Merec stated, his tone indicating that he was not all too sure about how smart this move was but willing to see it through, nonetheless. He turned to a rather dark-toned human sitting before a deep blue drake on the opposite side of the table. "Roccan'her Charl, we have two fully trained Battlewings at the ready, am I correct?"

"Two Battlewings, one squad and one lone pair to be precise, sir!" the human answered crisply. Of course, there had been rumours that he had managed to take over from Glenn as the Aerial Combat Instructor only because he had also once been part of the Thendor gryphon-knights, but unlike her he had dropped out of the elite human force before completing his training, opting to join the Lúgroccae instead when the human kingdom started to threaten the vulpine territories. Still, the military training he had received had not been wasted and he had distinguished himself with honour amongst the Dragonriders even after Glenn and Lekreh had retired.

"Most of our Sal'Lúgae are accomplished fliers and fighters," Lúg'her Audenier, the blue dragon at his back added quickly. "It is only because we lack riders to train with than that they have been unable to progress further."

"Additional dragons may be useful in the war as well," Lúg'her Farriha quickly added, the olive-green draine nodding to herself. Of all the dragons present, she stood out as the only one without a rider with her. "We can always use extra pair of eyes and wings. But there is no need to overdo it, I think four of the eleven unmatched dragons will suffice."

"I don't think it is a good idea to take everything we have to war..." Harald started to say, but Merec quickly interrupted him.

"I know," he said quickly with a nod and a smile to his old mentor to indicate that he still welcomed the ageing man's advice. "I was thinking of taking only three squads per wing with us... that will leave three squads here to take care of The Camp. I believe it should be more than adequate to handle our responsibilities with the local caravans and to protect the Lumor territory against the remaining Umbrin raids."

"The stronghold in the Ice Mountains had been quiet as of late, but it would be best not to take unnecessary risks!" Gahntuar agreed.

"That will give us thirty-two pairs to take south," a light-grey wolf male agreed. Of all the lupine riders in the camp, Roccan'her Edward was probably the least likely to object to assisting the elves when the main wolf army had decided to withdraw. In fact, their Terrestrial Combat Instructor might go just to spite the high lupine command after they had discharged him dishonourably for hitting a superior officer who had it coming. "It doesn't stretch our resources too thin, but it will also be enough to make a good impression."

"Thirty-four," Jerielle quickly piped up with a smirk. "I am sure Lúg'hir Gahntuar and myself will not be expected to sit around and look pretty."

"If it will not be a problem," Charl quickly added after sharing a soft discussion with his dragon, "Audenier and I would also like to join you at your wingtip. There has been very little for us to do here without any new trainees, and with most of the Lúgroccae away to war even our usual rehearsal sessions will have to come to a halt."

"I would discourage moving our entire command structure to war as well," Harald added quickly, knowing the dragons too well by now.

"Actually," Lúg'her Gharavhan quickly said, surprisingly soft for the gravelly voice he had. He nuzzled his lupine rider affectionately for a second as if for reassurance before continuing. "I was hoping to get leave to stay behind. My mate has recently lain, and we expect the eggs to hatch in three weeks or so. I... I'd like to be present for the hatching..."

"As is your duty!" Jerielle quickly added emotionally, before clearing her throat awkwardly. "I... I mean, I second that proposal."

"As much as I would like to join you on this mission, I am with my dragon on this one!" Edward agreed, reaching back to stroke his dragon's jaw reassuringly. "Unless you feel that, as a wolf, I must set an example for our other lupine riders?"

"No need, I think," Merec replied, glancing up at his dragon who quickly nodded agreement. "You were scheduled to go on leave in a week either way, and I don't think it will be necessary to cancel those plans. Also, as Roccan'her Harald suggested, it will be good to have someone of the council remain within easy reach from The Camp." He was silent for a moment as he looked at those around the table. "Anyone else who would like to volunteer to come along or request permission to stay behind?"

"I would also like to join you," Harald spoke up.

"You don't have to," a surprised Merec quickly started to say, but the old soldier cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"Nonsense, it is no problem at all!" Harald insisted. "But this will be unlike anything you have faced before. Up to now, you've only ever worked as an independent force, but now you will have to understand your place in a larger army, so I am certain that my input will be valuable. And anyway, I also have..." He looked up at Gahntuar for a moment. "... unfinished business in that forest I'd like to tend to."

"I will be honoured to carry you, sir!" Farriha added quickly. "I may not have carried a rider for almost six years now, but I still know how to wear a saddle."

"Thank you, my dear." Harald accepted the offer with a smile.

"Then, we would be honoured if you were to join us," Merec replied, secretly thankful that he will not have to lead the Lúgroccae into battle alone as he had originally expected to. Then leaning a little forward to address the human female down the table, he asked. "Roccan'her Glenn, will it be too much to ask of you to keep an eye on the trainees in Charl and Audenier's stead? I know it would be unfair to ask of you to come out of retirement for us, but..."

"Nonsense!" the golden gryph piped up excitedly before his rider could respond. "I won't mind ordering some dragons around again!" At that, there were quite a few upset hisses from around the table even though everyone knew the ageing gryphon was only teasing them again. Then again, they all had suffered under his tutelage, but none could argue that it was not for the best in the end.

"We will be delighted to assist again," Glenn quickly added, glaring at her gryphon companion as he clucked in amusement to himself.

"Thank you," Merec smiled.

"I think I will be staying here, for obvious reasons!" Laethia quipped, flapping the stub of her one wing for emphasis. Gahntuar glared at her, not very impressed with her attempts at a little humour, though there was a soft chuckle from around the table that lightened the serious mood a little.

"It is settled then," Archmagus Vicia agreed. "We will notify the yellow magi currently in Ealyndore of your coming. But please make haste in your preparations... The elves are eager to begin their assault before the horde can bring in fresh supplies, so time is of the essence."

"We will travel south with haste, Archmagus!" Merec insisted, turning to his Aerial Combat Trainers. "Roccan'her Charl, Lúg'her Audenier. Please select the squads we will be taking with us south and prepare them. Lúg'her Farriha, I will leave the selection of the scouts you want to take along in your claws. Roccan'her Aerhin, Lúg'her Jerielle, please start to prepare for our journey south. Lúg'hir Gahntuar and I will take care of the existing contracts and prepare the camp for our departure."

"Yes, sir!" the addressed assembly replied crisply.

"Very well then, if there is nothing else..." Merec asked, letting the statement hang for a bit to allow anyone to voice any concern "... this meeting is adjourned. You all have your tasks, see that it is done."

And with that, the assembled meeting started to break up amidst excited whispers, though there was a clear sense of underlying worry that Merec could not shake. And they had every right to be worried. Though they had conducted a few large-scale raids against Umbrin strongholds in the northern Curndors, it usually involved only one Battlewing at most each time. This would be the real first time they would be leaving the safety of their Camp with both wings. This time, they would not be fighting in a quick skirmish, but going to a fight that had been raging now for more than half his own life!

This time, they were really off to war!

***

"I don't understand," Lúg'gon Amaren complained as he and Gahntuar walked down the hill from the cluster of smaller buildings that served as accommodation for the leaders of the Lúgroccae. Their riders were walking a little behind them, also talking to each other about the same topic. With very much the same outcome, it must be added.

"I want you and Roccan'gon Shella to remain here," Gahntuar repeat firmly.

"But dad... sir..." Amaren argued, clearing his throat awkwardly after the slip-up. "I need to join you! I am one of your best squad leaders..."

"Do not argue with me on this!" Gahntuar growled, a little agitated that his orders were being challenged by his son. "I have made my decision, and the others agree. Yours is one of the two placed squads to remain behind and keep The Camp secure. In addition, I will be..."

"Is it because I am your son that I am not allowed to go to war with you?" the dark green dragon growled annoyed, finally forced to play the last trick he had. One he disliked and tried to avoid as much as possible. "Did you not tell me yourself when we started this that you cannot afford to be playing favourites when it comes to missions and orders?"

"I did say that," Gahntuar agreed with a sigh, forcing himself to be patient again. He turned to smile fondly at the younger drake, putting a paw gently on the bluish pauldron that protected the other dragon's shoulder. "And the fact that you are my son has played a role in me having made this decision, but not in the way you are thinking."

"What do you mean?" Amaren asked with a grumble, realizing that even the family ties argument was going to fall flat.

"Whether we like it or not," the elder black drake started to explain "as my eldest hatched, the other dragons in the order have been treating you as something of my heir. You cannot deny that often, they have come to you to put a request before me. And in the same way, they tend to listen to you when you voice your opinion on a matter. That, even though you do not have command of a full Battlewing yourself."

"That is not..." Amaren started to argue again, but the Lúg'hir cut him off with a dismissive flick of his snout that made the articulated links of his crinet clink together. The young dragon had always thought the enchantment to give the sturdy steel that characteristic golden hue was overrated, but now Gahntuar's armour contrasted powerfully with the dark scales, giving the Lúg'hir a rather intimidating air of authority and he felt his argument dry upon his tongue.

"Have you forgotten the times when we had to issue direct orders to stop some over-eager dragons going off on unsanctioned missions after you had only commented on something?" the older dragon asked with a smirk, though with an eyebrow raised similarly to when their riders wanted to express incredulity.

"I never..."

"I seem to recall a half-thought out mission to go scout the ruins of Juinkarr only last autumn, don't you recall?" Gahntuar chuckled when Amaren pinned his crest and ears back in a guilty expression at the accusation. "I know you only mentioned it as being something to consider since we seem to rarely suffer Umbrin attacks from that direction these days, but some dragons were already planning your mission before we had to intervene."

"But Felicity has also mentioned..." Amaren started to argue again, but then had to concede the point with a defeated sigh. "I guess you have a point, sir."

"You are a good squad-leader, Lúg'gon Amaren!" Gahntuar stated firmly, but warmly. "If you worked more on your battle awareness beyond the dragons under your command, you would already have been at the head of one of our Battlewings. But your skill is still irrefutable and your blood, I have to admit, causes the other dragons to look up to you. So, you can understand the reason that I need you to stay behind, to keep the fort as the humans would say. And it is not just me who thinks this is a good idea, but the entire council agrees that you are the best candidate for this job. Jerielle and her rider, Harald and all of the instructors..."

"Wait, you mean..." Amaren gasped, suddenly realizing that this was not a reprimand, but a great honour he was arguing against.

"Exactly, I need you to be my acting Lúg'hir until my return!" This time, Gahntuar couldn't help but laugh out loud at the look on Amaren's face. "Don't look so terrified! Both Lainah and your mother will be here to help you run the place, as will Lúg'her Gharavhan and Roccan'her Edward. And I think you know by now that our original Aerial Combat Instructors have agreed to come out of retirement to help you as well, so you have a full and experienced council at your back. Still, if you need any assistance from us specifically, Archmagus Vicia will be able to send word to me in Ealyndore in quick order."

"I guess," Amaren replied a little mutedly. In all honesty, this task that he had been presented seemed even scarier than the war itself. But forcing his self-doubt aside, he stood at attention before the Lúg'hir and spoke confidently. "I will not disappoint you, sir!"

"You never have!" Gahntuar said with a smile and a nod for them to continue. "My orders for you on this are simple: Just, maintain The Camp and don't do anything drastic. I know we have discussed pushing the last remnants of the Northern Umbrins out of the Ice Mountains to the north, but for the time being, just make sure they don't cause trouble on our border." Then, with a smirk, he added: "And definitely stay away from Juinkarr. I know everyone is saying that the place is abandoned, but we all know there is a reason the Coral Tower keeps on failing to secure the place for themselves."

"That is because they try to do so on their own!" Amaren scoffed, but quickly caught on to what his father had said only moments before and quickly reigned in his eagerness. "But we won't do anything without your blessing, sir."

"Good," Gahntuar smiled. "The old Dark Fortress may be a ruin, but evil still thrives there. From what our scouts in the larger region say, even the Umbrins avoid the place directly."

"All the more..." Amaren forced himself to behave with a sigh. "I'm sorry, I... understand."

"Don't worry about it," Gahntuar grinned. "Once our backs are secure, we will start to plan a proper investigation into Juinkarr, but not before we are ready."

The two dragons were silent for a moment, listening to Amaren's rider continue to try and convince Merec that they were not the right pair for the job. But the female wolf was as successful in convincing the Roccan'hir to change his mind as Amaren had been in changing his father's.

"What about Tembarah?" Amaren suddenly asked. "Will she be joining you in Ealyndore?"

"Yes, her hatchlings are old enough to understand what is going on and their father will still be around," the older dragon stated calmly before a sly grin split his features. "Why do you ask? Afraid you are going to miss her too much?"

"No-no, just curious!" Amaren quickly stated, crest pinned back shyly again. "I was just thinking that her calm and collected demeanour will be very helpful in running this place as my second in command..."

"She is one of the few dragons whose skill in flying matches that of the average gryphon," Gahntuar admitted. "And since we decided not to take any of our gryphon steeds to war to lessen conflict with the gryphon-riders already there, I'm afraid that we are going to need her too much."

"It isn't because of that strange quirk she and a few of the other dragons had displayed a few years back?" Amaren asked a little hesitantly. When Gahntuar frowned at him, he elaborated a little hushed. "You know... the ability to mould Mana from time to time..."

"Oh, you knew about that!" Gahntuar asked surprised, thinking of the small group in question. Most of them were going south, but he doubted that their secret ability played a role in them being chosen for this expedition. Neither Roccan'her Charl nor Lúg'her Audenier was even aware of it, as the strange event Amaren spoke of had occurred some years before they were promoted to their current roles.

"She mentioned it to me when it first started, but then stopped talking about it completely," Amaren replied, his thoughts a bit distant and he recalled the strange time. "At first, I thought it had disappeared, but then I caught her moulding Mana last week. I've been meaning to talk to her about it, but we have not been able to get time alone."

"I'll need to talk to her," Gahntuar grumbled, a little annoyed at the news. "She needs to be more careful with that." He ignored the younger dragon blinking at him in shock. "Anyway, though it will undoubtedly give us an important edge in fighting, it is too dangerous to use openly. So, no it did not play a role in us selecting her."

"Wait," Amaren gasped, a little shocked, "You know what is causing it? Tembarah was initially very open to me about the strange ability, but then she suddenly became very secretive, even to me..."

"That is because I told her to be," Gahntuar started to say, knowing where the younger dragon was going to take this. "And yes, I know what is causing it."

"Then, as acting Lúg'hir, shouldn't I also know?" Amaren challenged.

Gahntuar sighed, considering the young dragon before him. "Maybe it will be for the best," he started a little reluctantly "but be careful with this. It can be dangerous, and it is definitely not for just anyone to know... most of the council doesn't even know there are dragons with magical abilities in the Lúgroccae. Heck, even Jerielle doesn't know, though I think she suspects there is something I'm hiding from her."

They came to the main parading grounds, where a large group of Lúgroccan-pairs were arranged in six neat rows of five pairs each. They were fully kitted in battle armour that gleamed brilliantly even in the early morning sun, with their squad leaders at the head of each row and the Wing Commanders standing next to their first squad. At the very back, Lúg'her Farriha and her four chosen scouts made up the seventh line. She and the scouts were kitted out in the lighter, studded leather armour usually used to make the new dragons used to wearing something. The scouts were also wearing the usual training harnesses, while Farriha was kitted out with her old saddle instead, intended for Harald who was standing patiently next to her. And finally, to the side, were the last two pairs of the assembly, waiting patiently for their leader to arrive.

"Lúgroccae!" Lúg'her Gharavhan's gravelly voice called out in the thick silence as soon as the dark-brown drake caught sight of Gahntuar. "Atten-tion!"

The assembled dragons and riders snapped to attention with a military precision honed over years of training. Gahntuar gave them a quick nod in acknowledgement before turning back to the new acting Lúg'hir.

"However, I'm afraid there is no time to explain the intricacies anymore," he whispered to the younger dragon. "Ask Lúg'gon Lekreh to inform you … tell him I sent you. He may try to dissuade you even then, and if he does, give him the following phrase: 'The silvery strands of the morning hides the secrets of the day'." Amaren stared shocked at him for a moment, but Gahntuar only dismissed him with a nod of his snout to the dais where he usually made announcements from. "Now, go take your place as acting Lúg'hir!"

Amaren gulped, looking at the dais as if it was dangerous, before nodding to Gahntuar.

"Do you think it is a smart idea to let him in on the secret?" Merec asked Gahntuar as Amaren and Shella took their leave to stand at their newly appointed spot.

"On the contrary," Gahntuar admitted dryly. "I know it is a bad idea. I know he will start experimenting himself as soon as he learns the truth. But he was right, as acting Lúg'hir he and his rider need to know about it."

"Well, it is done now anyway," Merec sighed, a little annoyed that his opinion was not asked but accepting his dragon's decision either way. Gahntuar probably had a point. "Now, we have to focus on the present."

Gahntuar did not answer but merely nodded as he took his position on the dais next to Amaren. The assembled dragons and riders in front of him were an impressive sight, with six of the nine squads they had kitted fully in full battle armour. It was a sight rarely seen and it made his heart soar with pride.

"I know that you have all heard of the war in Ealyndore Forest, and rumours of a renewal in hostilities there?" Merec started to address the assembly. At the mention of Ealyndore, a silent shudder of barely suppressed excitement rippled through the lines, but for the moment their discipline held them in check. "I can now confirm that, not only are the rumours true but we will be assisting the elves in their latest attempt to drive the orcs out of their forest."

At that, an excited murmur started to rise from the assembled group. However, it quickly died down again when Gharavhan gave a warning growl. Merec could understand their emotion. There was a major difference between guarding a line of wagons and actively partaking in important events.

"Last year, just before the worst of the winter snows blew in, the orcs had managed to capture the ruins of Eydelvise palace, and the elves are desperate to recapture it before they can manage to restore any of the temporary defences that had been in place before the raid," Merec continued. "However, the Umbrin dragons in the southern Curndors seems to have been learning from our techniques as they are proving to be a difficult target for the Gryphon-knights currently stationed there and without someone to challenge them directly, the elvan march towards Eydelvise will be severely threatened. Therefore, the elves have seen it fit to approach us for aid."

Someone murmured 'About time' somewhere in the back, but the lupine voice was quickly hushed by his follow riders even before Gharavhan could even react.

"As such, we will be participating in a full-scale military campaign to take back the elven fortress of Eydelvise," Merec said, fighting back a smirk himself. "This will be something completely new to us, yes, but we have absolute faith in all of you that you will rise to the occasion and overcome any obstacle placed in our way. From this day forth, we will prove to all Selebore that the Lúgroccae are not a group of dropouts and wannabes, but a force to be reckoned with! A group, even if you were not chosen to join us at our wingtips on our journey south, we will always be proud to lead this day!"

"Remain vigilant, fight hard, and fly true!" Gahntuar stated the motto of the Lúgroccae with more than a hint of pride at those before him. As expected, the assembly before him quickly repeated it after him.

"Lúgroccae!" Lúg'gon Audenier called out, taking over from Gharavahn. "Saddle up!"

The atmosphere of anticipation that had been almost tangible since the afternoon before, finally erupted into excited whispers as riders climbed into saddles. The riders quickly locked themselves into place, tapping their steeds' necks to indicate that they were ready. One after the other, each squad checked in their readiness for flight and in quick order everyone was ready. Then Lúg'hir Gahntuar roared a challenge in the old tongue of the dragons. Immediately, his challenge was answered eagerly by the dragons with him, first the wing commanders and the squad leaders shortly after them, and then all the dragons assembled. Without wasting more time, Gahntuar leapt into the sky, not even looking back, knowing that his dragons would follow him without hesitation. With furious beats of his wings, he ascended quickly, not even circling to find a suitable thermal before turning his snout south.

It was time to return to his old territory... to face the ghosts of Eydelvise that still haunted him.

It was time to go to war.

***

Gahntuar had never been more relieved to see a cluster of tents on the low, grassy round hill that jutted from the bright green sea of the forest canopy like Roccan'her Harald's naked head. It had been a long, hard nine days of intense flying, their journey made even longer when they initially failed to find the correct hill amidst the other similar hilltops of the eastern Melserni Ridge. It turned out to be some of the annoying gryphon-knights who finally pointed them in the right direction as they were patrolling the sky around the area and initially tried to challenge them. On three separate occasions! Only a stern call from Merec that the elven general was waiting for them allowed them to get through without being mobbed too badly.

He gave a quick, short roar as a signal to the other dragons that they were to descend before he banked in a tight circle. And he was not the only dragon to be grateful when their destination finally appeared. Even against the wind, he could hear more than one dragon quip elatedly that their journey was finally at an end. He glanced behind him quickly, relieved to see that their morale was still high even despite the gruelling journey and the unnecessary challenges of their identity and purpose.

With a proud smile, turning his attention back to the hill below them to find a suitable landing area. Their destination was a conglomeration of seemingly random groups of tents, each quite varied in style and colour, all enclosed with a hastily constructed palisade enclosure. Better not try and make for one of the smaller openings within this enclosure, he decided as he picked out a decently flat meadow a little beyond the westernmost of the gates he could see. They could walk the rest of the way and get their weight off their wings for a bit.

They landed in the empty field about the size of their main parade grounds without another incident from a patrolling gryphon. Gahntuar resisted the urge to roll his shoulders as he turned to look at the rest of his dragons landing behind him. Most of them succumbed to the painfully stiff shoulders while their riders tried to stretch out as much as their saddles allowed, but for the most part, their discipline held and they assembled neatly in their squads, standing at attention again in short order as they awaited further instructions.

"Now what?" the black dragon questioned a little under his breath as those of the council who had travelled with him came to stand by his side.

"Now, we need to find Field-Marshal Veryalas, announce ourselves and find a place to settle down," Harald replied equally softly and tiredly from Farriha's back.

"Sounds easy enough," Merec sighed, also fighting the urge to stretch out a cramp in his one buttock. "So why do I get the idea it won't be that simple?"

"Because you like things interesting!" Gahntuar quipped, twisting his head around to grin at the human on his back.

"I have had enough 'interesting' to last me a good while thanks!" Merec replied with a grumble, ignoring how the dragon's smirk increased. Instead, he turned to the human on the blue drake standing slightly behind them. "Roccan'her Charl, have them fall out and relax a bit while we go introduce ourselves. Just don't have them wander off too far."

"Yes, sir!" Charl said crisply. His dragon turned around to face the assembled dragons without being asked and in a loud voice, the human gave the order. "Lúgroccae, At ease!"

"Come on, let's get this over with so that we can get some rest!" Merec sighed and the council's dragons started to walk towards the gate some twenty meters away as soon as Audenier had also relayed the message to fall out to the two Battlewing Commanders. Wordlessly, the four dragons approached the gate, guarded by three, bored three Varanidae guards.

"Halt!" the largest of the three lizards called, hefting a heavy steel pike at them. "Who goes there?"

"I am Roccan'hir Merec," Merec started to answer the red lizard calmly, having expected the challenge. The guards would not have been doing their duty otherwise. "And this is Lúg'hir Gahnt..."

"Fancy that!" a leaner blue lizard interrupted him with a disrespectful scoff. "The human went as far as to call his dragon 'Lord' as well!"

Merec felt Gahntuar tense under him and habitually he patted the dragon's neck to calm him down. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Jerielle and Farriha also quiver for a moment, with Jerielle going as far as to puff a slight curl of smoke from her nostrils. Behind them, Audenier uttered a sharp snort as he bit back a snarl as well.

"I don't care what titles you've assigned to yourselves!" the burly lizard commented arrogantly as he spat to one side, seemingly uncaring or maybe completely oblivious to the meaning of the agitated quivering of the four dragons' crests. "Same questions goes to everyone: who are you and what are your intentions here?"

"We are the Lúgroccae and..." Merec started, gripping the leather handle of his saddle tighter to remain calm. He was tired after the long journey, even though he was not the one doing the flying and he was in no mood for this.

"Stop using fancy titles and speak plainly, human!" the smallest of the group snapped, the lizard's voice so high pitched that Merec wasn't sure if it was a male or female.

"Look, we are just doing our jobs!" the big red started again, pretending to be coming to the end of his patience. "Answer the questions and stop wasting our time!"

"If you want answers to your questions, remain silent and listen!" Gahntuar snapped angrily, puffing smoke and barely resisting the temptation to nip at them. For a stunned second, the three Varanidae stared up surprised at the dragon, their maws hanging open in unveiled surprise.

"We have an appointment with Field-Marshal Veryalas, who is already waiting for us!" Merec snapped with a growl akin to his dragon's, grabbing the opening Gahntuar had created.

"The rumours are true?" the smallest of the two blues whispered to the larger one. "They can really talk?"

"Will you point us in the right direction or take us to someone who is able to?" Merec continued as Gahntuar stopped trying to remain civil.

"What would the elven Field-Marshal have to do with a group of children playing at war?" the red challenged the human, having noticed the veiled insult. However, his voice was a little higher pitch, though with anger or worry Merec wasn't sure.

"That is for the Field-Marshal to decide!" Merec snapped sternly, having had enough of this charade. "Or do you want to explain to him why you decided to supersede him?"

"Are you threatening..." the red started the snarl but then he was interrupted by a stern, unamused voice.

"That will be enough!" the ashen grey stallion who walked up to them said, his voice carrying the authority he had carried for years smoothly. He was wearing a sturdy armour of studded leather with a yellow cape that seems out of place on a battlefield. As he spoke, he lowered the hood of his cape down to reveal his features to the three difficult guards. "I will take it from here!"

The three lizards whirled around to glare momentarily at the newcomer, but when they recognized him, they quickly bowed their heads in submission. Merec however had a distinct notion that the gesture was not as honest as the sharp movements suggested.

"Yessss, sir!" the red replied with a drawn-out hiss, obviously not happy at having lost the verbal battle. They stood aside, one hissing something unintelligible to another as the horse strode confidently past them. The four riders quickly dismounted as he approached Gahntuar without hesitation, the dragon rumbling a relieved greeting at the sight of him.

"Roccan'hir, Lúg'hir," he greeted them warmly, shaking hands with the human and touching the dragon on the jaw as he addressed them. "Welcome to the advanced Head Quarters. Please follow me and I'll take you to the Field-Marshal's tent immediately."

"Thank you, master Jonnon!" Merec smiled, relieved to finally be getting somewhere. "That will be very much appreciated. Our dragons are tired after a long flight and we are all desperate for a good rest."

"Of course," Jonnon replied. He has often acted as an envoy between the Amber Tower and the Lúgroccan Camp, and his eagerness to learn about the dragons made him well-liked by everyone there. Had the Amber Tower not been his first love, Merec was sure he would have been a rider himself by now. "We've requested that you camp out between us and the Green magi," the equine continued, pointing to a still empty spot within the camp "but the Field-Marshal still needs to approve the request I am afraid. Though I don't expect there to be any problems so you can unsaddle there for the time being."

"Thank you very much," Merec sighed with relief, turning to the human behind him again. "Roccan'her Charl, you and Lúg'her Audenier go set up a temporary camp between the Yellow and Green magi tents, while we go greet our host." Merec sighed, obviously not looking forward to this meeting. "I doubt we will be asked to move, and it will be good for everyone to rest inside the camp rather than wait around on the meadow outside."

"Yes sir!" Charl snapped to attention, sounding relieved not having to meet this Field-Marshal as well. With crisp movements that belied their exhaustion, they turned around to carry out their orders. The rest of the council followed Jonnon through the gate, ignoring the annoyed hiss from the larger red lizard.

"We were actually expecting you a day ago," Jonnon suddenly commented dryly when they were far enough away so that the troublemakers guarding the gate didn't hear his reprimand.

"I can assure you that we've travelled as fast as we could," Merec quickly stated before Gahntuar could say anything. "The dragons are exhausted, and we can use a good rest as soon as possible."

"We had a strong headwind," Gahntuar quipped in any way. "But even so, I think we have made excellent speed."

"If you say so," Jonnon stated, not sounding very convinced but allowing the dragons the benefit of the doubt. Merec opened his mouth to protest but then decided against it. It was not worth the effort.

"Was that the reason for the guards' poor behaviour then?" he asked instead, daring to glance around. The three by the gate were laughing between themselves again, apparently at the expense of the riders who were starting to make their way into camp.

"Did you expect a warm welcome?" Jonnon asked with a raised eyebrow.

"We didn't expect the red-carpet treatment," Merec admitted, ignoring the irritating guards, "but at least some courtesy."

"At least the same as is expected from us!" Harald agreed, obviously not iterated himself.

"I'm afraid that is going to be a bit much to ask at the moment," Jonnon replied with a knowing sigh. "The common impression most of the folks in the south have of you is exactly what you heard back there." He pointed with a thumb over his shoulder, not even breaking his stride. "'Children playing at war'. Most of the elves, the Cervidae and the Varanidae don't have any experience with what you did in the northern Curndors and even so, they don't think it compares to the two decades of war they had come to live with."

"Then why request our presence?" Merec grumbled, now noticing other scowls as well as they walked through the camp.

"As far as I know, if it was up to the Field-Marshal alone you wouldn't have been called in at all!" Jonnon admitted, ignoring the hostile reception his companions were receiving. "It was a few of his direct subordinates that suggested approaching you for aid. They presented such a good case that he could not ignore them and still seem to be competent to the royal family. But that is not where your troubles end, I'm afraid." He nodded towards the lower regions at the southern end of the camp. "The Leonae and the Tigrae have always been cultures that idolized personal strength, so they consider you as weaklings and dropouts who, instead of working your way up yourselves, are trying to harness the strength of your beasts with which you intend to buy respect..." The equine caught notice of Gahntuar lips curling back in a silent snarl and he quickly held his hands up placatingly. "... their words, not mine!

"Also, stay well clear of the Bovidae," he nodded to another region north of their position near the very top of the hill, before following through with another location to a rocky outcropping next to it "and the small contingent of dwarves here. Culturally, they have a special hate towards dragons overall, having known nothing of dragons but Umbrin raids for the past few centuries. You already know what the Red magi think of you..."

"There are Reds here as well?" Merec asked surprised, turning to look at the small cluster of red tents beyond the green ones next to which they were meant to set up camp themselves.

"Of course," Jonnon scoffed, sounding as thrilled about the idea as the Roccan'hir felt. "If there is a place to show their skill and dedication to The Circle, they will be there. More surprising though is that there are even three or so White magi, and I even know of one Black amongst the smiths. But you need not worry about them, they couldn't care less about your presence here. As long as you behave, they will prefer to leave you alone. The other contingents, I'm not so sure will keep the peace though. The Reds for instance may seek you out just to cause trouble. So, try not to make too much noise and stay close to us and the Greens. We are about the only real friends you have around here."

"Don't worry, I won't play rooster!" Gahntuar grinned, bumping his human with his snout. Merec just cast him an evil eye while Harald only shook his head in exasperation.

"Best not to ask," the elder human muttered when Jonnon frown at the dragon's strange comment.

The equine continued to point out the various no-go zones for them in the camp when they noticed a black gryphon with strikingly red facial features start to stalk towards them. He held his dusty brown wings slightly wider in an instinctive display meant to intimidate, the bright white band on his wings catching the afternoon sun brilliantly. His human companion muttered something under his breath as they approached the new arrivals determinedly.

"Anyway, I assume you then know to stay away from the small continent of gryph..." Jonnon was saying when he turned and was confronted with the two already practically on top of them.

"No need to elaborate," Merec agreed, stopping as the gryphon came to stand in their way.

"If it isn't the yellow-coats!" the gryphon sneered with a challenging clack of his beak. Gahntuar's frill raised instinctively at the challenge, but other than that he showed no outward emotion and the significance of the action was completely lost on the gryph.

"Are you going to be sticking around this time, Roccan'hir?" his human added, twisting the title as to leave no illusion that it was meant with no respect whatsoever.

"Move along, captain Eidlesworth!" Jonnon stated firmly. "You know full well that Lord Veryalas is expecting them!"

"Oh, don't worry … sir!" the captain stated oily, equally disrespectful towards the yellow magus. "We've lost nothing of importance amidst traitors, cowards and drop-outs!"

"We prefer to let our actions do the talking, human!" Gahntuar snarled, finally too annoyed to remain silent.

"Exactly!" the gryphon snapped almost victoriously. "We were there after the siege, so we know you! But tell us, how many of your council members are honourable in any meaning of the word? One fled his responsibilities, another was dishonourably discharged. The rest could not make it on their own in the real world. Not the stuff I'd prefer to watch my back, you know."

The two laughed at their joke, turning about and walked back with a spring in their step as if they had won an argument. The gryphon even went as far as to flick his tail up at them in a rude gesture, momentarily flashing a set of black balls at them.

"We've always been at odds with those gryphons," Merec commented, taking a deep breath to calm himself down again before had to face the elf at the head of this madness. "At best we are cowards unwilling to stand up to advisement and at worse traitors not willing to obey a king we never swore fealty to. But it is nothing more than idle insults."

"It is more than just idle insults, I'm afraid!" Jonnon said quickly. "I have it on good authority that, when word started to spread across the camp of your imminent arrival, they have been asking leave to arrest you two on charges of treason. Luckily, they don't have any jurisdiction here and with their poor assistance in the war thus far, the elves are not eager to even humour their request." The equine sighed for a moment, looking at the gryphon joining his comrades again before the equine started his march to the Field-Marshal's tent again.

"And I know I don't need to even mention the Alliance of Light comments about you!" he added, trying to make it sound like an afterthought.

"There are Alliance members here still?" Gahntuar gasped surprised, jogging two steps to catch up with the civils.

"We've heard that they have been called in-mass back to their various temples," Merec added. "And I would have thought that anyone with the Alliance would have left as soon as they heard that we are coming. They practically did the same back at the Siege of Corrumwhell"

"For the most part, that is the case!" Jonnon agreed. "But we still have a small continent from them who requested special leave to remain behind. They said something about not allowing the Shadowspawn ANY leeway on any front. However, they consist mostly of Bovidae and the few Cervidae who still are with the Alliance, so I think it is more personal for them since their homelands are directly affected by what happens here. So much so, that I doubt they will leave this fight even with you around."

"It is strange that they not try something against us while we were still inbound," Harald commented.

"They probably would have, if your arrival had not been kept rather hushed until only recently!" the magus replied with a smirk. "But I'm still guessing that the Colonel of the Alliance is currently throwing a tantrum in the Field-Marshal's tent right about now!"

That image was rather humorous and despite their cold reception, or maybe because of it, the little group started to chuckle at the thought. Though, but it was clear the Lúgroccae did not find the idea of the Alliance being close by quite as humorous as the yellow magus thought the commander's tantrum was.

"I'm quite surprised to see how open the camp is, to be honest," Harald stated, trying to pull the conversation away from their unfriendly allies. "From what I remember of the elves, they liked to remain as hidden as possible."

"You've been to Ealyndore before?" Jonnon asked surprised, stopping for a moment to look at the human.

"I was part of the first contingent of humans sent to assist the elves," Harald admitted, playing it down with a wave of his hand. "I was part of the initial drive to push the first horde off the banks of the Horthnen and to recapture Eydelvise after its initial sacking. Back then, Thendor's aid meant something, but I had to retire from active service to take care of this lot."

He smirked, looking back at Gahntuar just as the dragon gave him a playful nip. For his part, Jonnon had visited their camp often enough to understand dragon mannerisms and didn't even flinch at the dragon's action.

"Yes, the elves don't like to advertise their presence like this," Jonnon agreed as they started walking the final distance again. They had come across the elven section, which was made up of blotchy, light green tents that seems to have seen better days despite their sturdiness.

"But with the large amount of foreign support, their usual modus operandi proved impossible," the equine continued, not allowing Merec to get a closer look at the tents. "Make no mistake, more than two-thirds of this army consist of elves and the rest is mostly Cervidae, both of whom thrive in the deep forests. But asking the Bovidae, who is the next most numerous here, to remain in the shadows of the forests is an impossible task. Then the gryphons and your dragons need clear space to take off from and land... preferably not the same clear space you can imagine." The equine sighed at the thought of the logistical nightmare as if he had been part of sorting it out. "At least we know that we won't be attracting unwanted attention any time soon just yet."

"How so?" Farriha suddenly asked curiously. "Surely it is dangerous to assume anything about the enemy."

"The gryphons had been keeping the skies above us clear, so we are confident that word of our presence hasn't gotten out yet," Jonnon explained. "But admittedly, the horde's focus is much more eastward, towards the ocean. The orcs have been pushing strongly along the Horthnen, hoping to capture the strategic naval elven base at Port Ghrathelle. We are sure of this because the other elven army is currently hard-pressed trying to push them back upstream."

"So, not only are we trying to recapture the old elvan palace," she chirped, her crest practically fully erected in excitement, "but we are going to encircle the main part of the horde as well. Smart! Where was the last engagement?"

Jonnon turned around to look at the olive-green draine in surprise. Though he had often interacted with her, he had always assumed her reputed strategic talents were exaggerated.

"I believe you may be correct, Lúg'her Farriha," Jonnon agreed. "Nothing is confirmed, of course. But I have also considered that, after Eydelvise, we are to cross the Echoren river and sweep east towards the ocean as fast as possible. Hopefully, we can then meet up with the second army, surround their main force and drive the remaining horde back across the Edrein before the onset of winter. But what the latest news from the east is, I must admit I'm not entirely sure. I think I have heard rumours of a battle three days ago, but for the most part, the horde seems to be holding their position about a week's march outside Ghrathelle. The reports of their encampment fires at night is quite clear on that."

"I wonder what they are waiting for?" Farriha frowned. "I can understand that they would like to draw the elves outside the defences of the city, but without a decent supply line, just sitting it out will play against them. You don't think they may suspect that we are going to strike at Eydelvise?"

They arrived at the largest of the green tents. Now that they were up close, Merec could see that the blotchy appearance of the tent was in fact dyed in on purpose, the strange random pattern made even more illogic with the addition of small dots and thin strands of brown and black that crisscrossed everything haphazardly.

"I think the horde are aware that we will be trying to recapture Eydelvise," Jonnon was confirming Farriha's comment "but I don't think they know when and from where we are to strike. Losing Ghrathelle will be a devastating blow to the elves so I don't think that they will expect us to strike this far behind their lines and instead try to threaten their horde more directly. I believe the Field-Marshal will be more informed about the latest developments, though I doubt he will be willing to share such information lightly."

The equine magus opened the flap of the tent without any more hesitation, and for a moment everyone there was stunned as an angry voice rolled from inside like thunder across the plains.

"... cannot allow them to join us under any circumstance!" the human was practically shouting at the elf in charge, completely disregarding the difference in their ranks. "If we march out with those monsters, they will surely turn on us when we can least afford it. I am certain that even Nixoruma Herself will turn against us if we are to allow her sworn enemy..."

"Enough of this!" the elf snapped, hitting the table with the flat of his hand. "I will not allow anyone to dictate to me how I am to run my operation."

As Jonnon stepped through the flap, Merec noticed an elf in gold and green armour argue with s human dressed in silver and white. The infamous Flames of the Alliance, embroidered with red, orange and golden threads, was the only colour to the clothes he wore, and yet the emblem was large enough to cover most of the cape he wore as a sign of his station. The two commanders were so busy arguing that they didn't notice Merec following the equine magus into the tent. A white unicorn mare in an ivory robe was standing to the side, speaking softly to a black stallion who also wore ivory. She was just in the process of shaking her head, obviously not impressed with the display in front of them, when they also noticed the new arrivals.

"But sir!" the human continued desperately as if his very life depended on winning this argument. "This goes against everything the Alliance stands for!"

"I have brought the leaders of the Lúgroccae as requested, sir!" Jonnon announced, not waiting for an opening to speak. The human colonel whirled around in surprise at the new voice, but the look of shock was instantly replaced by a hateful glare as he recognized Merec.

"So, the Shadowfriend arrives..." he started to sneer, but then stepped back so quickly that he nearly fell over the foldable desk the elven commander was trying to work at. With his face a sudden ashen colour, he grabbed at a little holy amulet he carried around his neck and raised it against Gahntuar just as the dragon poked his snout through the flap of the tent as well.

"Begone, foul beast!" he shrieked in what he would later insist was not a shaky, high-pitched voice. "I am a devotee of Nixoruma and will not tolerate your presence in Her Divine Light!"

"And yet, here I remain!" Gahntuar rumbled deadpan, shifting a little as Harald and Aerhin ducked beneath his head to enter the tent as well. He failed to hide a victorious smirk when the annoying human's resolve drop slightly at his words. "And we grow in number!" he smirked when Jerielle also poked her head in as well before the human could even formulate a response.

"Behave, Gahntuar!" Merec said softly to his dragon, though just loud enough to be heard by the other elves. But a smirk of his own destroyed any illusion that this was a real reprimand.

"Of course!" Gahntuar replied overly obedient, but with the same smirk as his rider.

"My lord Veryalas!" the human appealed a little desperately to the elven commander again. "For the love of all that is pure, you must send these foul beasts away right now, as well as those who have defiled themselves in their presence! If you do not, this campaign will surely end in disaster!"

"I said enough, Lord Adulsworth!" Field-Marshal Veryalas snapped angrily. "You cannot deny that we need to be able to hold our own in the skies if we are to have any hope of success! And with the human war against Lamthorre on one end, and the petty insistence of YOUR Alliance on the other to have gryphons assigned to you as well, the contingent of gryphon-knights Thendor had been able to provide us will not be enough! So, we will have to make do with what we can get. They may not have been my first choice as well, but they are here to stay. If you do not like it, you can leave."

"We have gone to great lengths to be able to fight the horde here, considering the threat of Juinkarr rising again before autumn this year!" Adulsworth gasped, shocked at the very idea of leaving this engagement. "There is no honourable way we can back out now. But nor has the Alliance, in all the centuries of its existence, ever fought alongside Shadowspawn..."

"That is where you are wrong, sir..." Merec stated quickly, not interested in listening to this argument.

"I did not ask your delusional opinion..." Adulsworth snarled, whirling around to challenge the human, momentarily taken aback again at the sight of the two dragons looking into the tent again.

"Enough!" Veryalas snapped. Sensing an opportunity to be rid of this annoying colonel, the elf turned to Merec. "And where would you say may the Alliance have sided with Shadowspawn?"

"At the end of the Dark Age, the dragon Lunintur lead a group of dragons in a preliminary strike against Juinkarr, in open support of the Alliance," Merec replied smoothly. "That attack would prove to be vital to open the way for the Alliance's Grand March to reclaim Selebore."

"And we're supposed to trust the word of a shameless Shadowfriend..." Adulsworth sneered, but once again his tirade was interrupted. This time from one of the White magi to the side who was equally tired of hearing this human out.

"He speaks the truth," the unicorn mare said, her voice soft yet commanding. "You can go read it up yourself if you doubt it. It is known today as the Cynderskies."

"And I believe Lunintur played an important role in the Grand March itself," the stallion with her also stated in a similar toned voice. "I know he assisted directly with the destruction of the dark citadels built on the Aetherfontes where the Corel and Nacre Towers stands today, for instance."

Adulsworth opened and closed his mouth a few times as he tried to come up with a good reply. He had never even heard of dragons playing any role in the Grand March, but he knew better than to go up against any Whites without direct evidence to contradict them. So, he grabbed onto the last remaining point he had going for him.

"Lunintur..." he said, rolling the name on his tongue as if trying to taste it before scoffing at it. "'The Bringer of Light'? I doubt there ever existed a Shadowspawn like that. But even so, how does this change anything about the dragons here today?"

"That same Lunintur was my grandfather!" Gahntuar growled, glaring at the human who dared to challenge his heritage. As such he completely missed the surprised glance he received from Jerielle. "We dared to assist the Alliance long ago and as such, we have been hunted down by the other dragons who chose to remain loyal to Juinkarr!"

"That still doesn't change anything..." Adulsworth grumbled, not willing to give them any leeway.

"Think of it this way then," Merec interrupted him, tired of having to listen to someone who himself did not want to listen to reason. It had been a long journey and he wanted to rest! "You can leave if this trouble your sense of righteousness, or you can stay a part of this army to keep a closer eye on us. Then you'll see we are not your enemy!"

Adulsworth gasped for a response again, before falling silent for a moment to think. He recognized that this Shadowfriend had given him a logical reason to remain behind whilst saving face, but it irked him to no end that he had not considered it himself.

"Very well, I will give this round to you," he grumbled when he could find no reason to refute the suggestion. "But make no mistake, we will be keeping an eye on you."

At the statement, the colonel turned around to point an accusing finger at Merec. At that moment, Merec remembered him as the Alliance captain who had tried to arrest him back in the days he was still treated like an outcast in his home town. With an unnecessary flurry of his cape, Adulsworth strode to the exit of the tent, only to be confronted by the two dragons again. Gahntuar smirked at him for a bit, but just before Merec could say anything he stepped to the side to allow the human to escape. The elf was about to speak to his new visitors when there was an unexpected shout of alarm from Adulsworth as he ran into the third dragon in the group, making the Lúgroccae chuckle in amusement despite their best attempts to remain professional.

"So, I take it you are this... Lúgroccae?" Veryalas said as they quieted down, scowling at the name of the order. That reaction took Merec aback a little until he remembered that the word was in fact a phrase only used by the lower ranks of elven society to indicate something as impossible.

"That is correct, my lord" Merec stated crisply, he and Harald bowing to the Field-Marshal in the elven tradition of addressing a superior as they had been taught. Next to him, Aerhin exhaled a soft sigh of relief and did the same. "I am Roccan'hir Merec, and this is Lúg'hir Gahntuar!"

"I greet thee, exalted one!" Gahntuar quickly stated, also bowing his head in respect. The dragon spoke in halting elvish, but it seemed to impress Veryalas nonetheless.

"I was surprised to see for myself that the rumours of dragons speaking the common tongue were true," Veryalas commented off-handed, even as he completed the traditional greeting with a bow of his own. "But never would I have imagined that you could speak Sindarin as well."

"I once had a decent command of Sindarin," Gahntuar stated, switching back to the common trade language. "But I fear my skill has, as the humans would say, become rather rusty during the years I had lived in the north in favour of the common tongue."

"Indeed..." Veryalas replied with a frown before he looked accusatorily at Aerhin with a raised eyebrow. "Have you taught him?" he asked in elvish.

"No, my lord," Aerhin replied quickly, also in elfish. "The Lúg'hir already had some skill with Sindarin when I first met him on the peninsula."

"Are you Bang'húd or Bui'húd?" Veryalas suddenly asked.

"I'm... Bui'húd, my lord!" Aerhin stated hesitantly, his confidence clearly dropping.

"Explains the term then, I guess," Veryalas muttered to himself, clearly not impressed with this whole thing and poignantly ignoring Aerhin thereafter. Merec, not understanding exactly what had transpired between the two elves and as such not sure how to come to the assistance of his second-in-command, quickly introduced the rest of the Lúgroccae with him.

"I apologise for the late hour of our arrival," Merec continued once he had introduced everyone. "I heard that we were expected to arrive yesterday. But we came as fast as we could, and our dragons could use a much-needed rest."

"Of course," Veryalas replied with a nod. He was not very impressed with the apology, but too egotistic to admit to it. "The Yellow magi have requested that you set up camp between them and the Greens. Master Jonnon here will be able to show you where you can set up for the night. Though I hope that you've brought your own tents... we do not have any large enough to house the dragons..."

"We will not be needing tents," Merec stated when the elf glared at the two dragons looking in through the flap. "Though the dragons do sleep indoors along with their riders back at our headquarters, they are used to sleeping outside and with their riders taking shelter under their wing."

"Good," Veryalas smiled, for once seemingly relieved. "Then go get some rest. We will be marching on Eydelvise Palace on the morrow!" The elven commander raised an eyebrow at the looks of surprise on the faces of the newcomers. "We are already behind schedule waiting for your dragons and we cannot delay any longer. There is more at stake here than you could know."

"Of course, sir," Merec stated, deciding not to ask about the pincer movement on Farriha's behalf just yet. "Thank you, sir!"

"Very good then, you are dismissed!" Veryalas stated with a wave of his hand, sitting down again behind the folding desk to work on some documents. Merec bowed quickly as expected, even though he was sure the elf wasn't even aware of it and the Lúgroccae quickly left in silence.

"Is it true?" Jerielle hissed with barely contained excitement when they were returning to their own group. "You're descended from Lunintur himself?"

"Wait, what?" Farriha gasped, not having heard the discussion inside the tent.

"I'm still me!" Gahntuar growled annoyed as he stalked after his human.

"But..." Jerielle started to argue, but Gahntuar cut her off with a reprimanding nip to the neck.

"But nothing!" he snapped, making it clear he was not going to be speaking about it now. "We have a duty to attend to. We can talk about it later, right?"

"Right, sir!" Jerielle replied, crest low in submission but still trying to glance at her Lúg'hir unnoticed, a strange hint of admiration suddenly on her features.

"Well, that actually went better than I expected to be honest!" Jonnon stated, ignoring the unintelligible hissing of dragons behind him. He knew they were talking and if he needed to know what was being said, they would have used the common trade language.

"Did you doubt us?" Aerhin asked with a smirk, trying to hide the unease the meeting had left on him.

"It wasn't you who I was worried about," Jonnon quickly stated, unable to hide a grin of his own.

"Still, I'm glad there were no more issues we had to deal with!" Merec sighed, looking forward to relaxing a bit against Gahntuar's side. "We are all tired and it is best to get some proper rest in before tomorrow."

"True," Harald agreed. "We should take every opportunity to rest. The next few weeks are going to be rather... gruelling, to say the least."

... to be continued.