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It was only a six-hour ride by carriage between the kingdoms of Yunivel and Cholodessa. To Prince Delan, that had never felt more like an eternity than it did right now.

The prince remained quiet as he stared out the window at the passing trees. Outside, he could hear the clopping of multiple sets of hoofbeats - some from the horses pulling the carriage, others from the guards who were escorting the carriage on horseback. A trio of them outside, and a trio within, a modest entourage but Delan was certain they were capable enough. Dangers were not terribly significant on this road - the occasional bandit gang was the worst one would get, and they were grunty, untrained and unskilled, more interested in a smash-and-grab than a scrap. The numbers and official appearance were likely to deter simple thieves, a very good thing because Delan didn’t want to lose any time at all. Not when the stakes were as high as they were.

His father, Morses, was king of Yunivel. Currently in the 26th year of his reign, and having the distinction of still being a fairly well-liked king despite the length of that reign. It was always said that the longer a king ruled, the more likely he was to be deposed violently, by those who felt a change was in order to suit their own whims. In those kingdoms were heritance was the norm, it counted for the whole family...Delan was sensitive to this, as he was in fact next in line to take the throne. He’d made efforts to connect with the people of Yunivel and try to be as aware of their concerns as he could, but there were many different people with many different desires, and not all of them could be addressed without causing discontent among those with competing interests. He wasn’t sure how Morses dealt with it all...his father had started to groom him more for succession, but there was a lot to learn.

That path was now in danger. It was not acrimony that threatened to bring an end to his father’s rule, but illness - he had somehow caught a harsh plague that had him bedridden, their doctors and mages doing their best to keep him alive but unable to cure him. The round-the-clock treatments could only be sustained for so long, they needed more potent assaults on the plague or they would run out of time. When Delan had inquired, he had been told that better treatments for the illness were known in Cholodessa, but they could not spare anyone to go over there - even one of the experts leaving would imperil his highness’s tenuous state. Delan knew what he had to do - go to Cholodessa himself, either get the treatment, the ingredients for it, or a specialist to bring back to Yunivel, and save his father’s life.

To say he was nervous was an understatement. The price for failure was beyond grand - losing his father was one thing, but having to take the mantle of ruler in his underprepared state would most likely bring calamity upon everyone. One had to be ready to navigate this world to be successful at lasting without disaster; kings who were unprepared often sowed chaos, willfully or unintentionally, and were ripe targets for those looking to expand through conquest. Delan had no desire to be yet another unfortunate example, and he was certain he needed a good deal more instruction from Morses before he could feel comfortable taking on that all-important role. But as they traveled, his mind couldn’t help but linger on all that could go wrong. He could be too late getting back. He could mess up and forget the treatment, or fail to acquire something important, or lose it during the travel. He could meet his own untimely end by one of various means. This was not the kind of thing Delan was familiar with - he had never traveled without his father before, never gone on missions of personal importance such as this - and he hoped his nerves weren’t going to be the cause of a greater disaster.

He was doing his best to try to keep calm, but he felt like he was seeing shadows outside in trees. Every unfamiliar sound made him jump a little bit, even tiny creaks that were most likely in the carriage. Delan knew these jitters weren’t helping matters, but he couldn’t rein it in, his nerves were frayed beyond reason. He sort of wished he’d asked for something to calm him down before leaving, something that could maybe relax him without dulling his senses or anything like that...as it was, he feared he’d just freeze up if they encountered any actual danger, which would probably just make him more of a liability. Would it have been better to find someone to send in his stead? Probably not, going himself ensured that they would take him seriously in Cholodessa, someone else might not be given the kind of urgency that the prince himself would. Sad as that was...in matters of life and death, Delan felt that everyone should be treated the same way, but there was no point in denying that that wasn’t the case. He just had to suck it up and be bolder, try to avoid getting paranoid at the random sounds, or the rustling of the bushes outside…

Wait...that’s not the wind…

He figured it out only a moment before everyone else did, as suddenly there were brigands bursting from the bushes in an all-out ambush. Delan let out a cry, which was cut off as one of the guards snatched him up and wrenched him out of the carriage, wrapped around him protectively as he tried to get the prince out in the open where he couldn’t be walled in. Delan didn’t fight any of the involuntary movements, too gripped by panic to do much more than follow along. Maybe that was a good thing, trying to break free would probably only have caused more chaos and exposed him to more danger…

The bandits didn’t look how he expected them to. He expected dirtier, wilder, people who stayed away from civilized society that could more easily prevent them from doing what they wanted, but these were fairly clean-cut figures, brutish and wicked-looking but in a way that seemed much less savage. They were all human, as well - unusual, as beastmen were more adept at traversing the wilds and were more likely to commit banditry farther away from towns, while humans routinely hung out as close as they could manage. His panicked mind was unable to make anything of this at the moment, just random things he was registering as he tried to sort out what was going on, to try to find some way to make himself less vulnerable and get a sense of what he should do.

But he wasn’t getting any of that. There was a lot of racket around, the sound of horses in peril and clashing steel and yelling making it hard for Delan to know what was going on, and his guard was moving him around too much for him to get a better idea of the state of the skirmish. Suddenly he was grabbed, torn away from the grip of his protector, roughly thumped to the ground and held there, hands gripped behind his back uncomfortably. Though he now was under a mess of shadows and legs, he could still see a bit of what was going on, and actually see it rather than have it whip by his vision…

It was one of those ‘be careful what you wish for’ moments that Delan had always dreaded.

Pinned under one of the thugs, he could do nothing but watch as the guards on foot mounted up on one of the carriage horses or behind one of the ones already on horseback. None of them looked particularly injured, or indeed anything more than harried, but they weren’t trying to engage the bandits at all, certainly not making any effort to rescue Delan from his capture! With scarcely any acknowledgement towards their prince, they turned tail and galloped off back towards Yunivel, leaving him utterly alone...except for the four bandits surrounding him, looking rather evilly down on him. Delan could feel his terror peaking, quivering in their hold as fears worse than his worse seemed to be coming true - this hadn’t been at all on his list of possible nightmare outcomes! It seemed almost unfair for the universe to see all that he was paranoid about and then choose something he hadn’t even thought about to fuck with him.

“Heh heh...looks like we gotta posh little pomf all to ourselves, boys.” He couldn’t tell who was talking, he sounded like he might be the leader but he didn’t know which one that was. “How long do you think we should let him suffer before we slit his throat?”

“Maybe make sure he lives long enough to see his dear old daddy cark it!” cackled another one of them. “Send ‘em to the bonefields together! Let ’em meet each other there and despair at how they failed each other, worthless royals!”

“Why do we need to kill him at all?” This smooth, dangerous voice was close enough that it was definitely the one holding him, and he really wished it wasn’t...not that any of the others was a better option. “We could use him, make him serve us, put the little bitch in his proper place...I’m sure we could get a LOT of fun out of him…”

“You know the score, our contract says kill him,” the fourth voice said sharply from a bit further back. “I say we don’t linger on it, giving him more chances to escape would be a mistake. Though I DO think torturing him a bit first would be a whole lot of fun, hehehehe…”

Delan thought he might pass out from terror. They were plotting his death right over him, and he couldn’t do a thing about it! He was trying to pull free but the bandit holding him was so much stronger, and he knew it was an awful idea to try to kick out at any of the rest of them, knowing he was wildly outnumbered and they were clearly murderous and sadistic. This was it, his end had come, all he could do was wait it out until they were ready to put him to death...his eyes teared up, less for himself than the thought of his father, fighting for his life, being delivered the harrowing news, it would have to kill him outright…

“Look at the bitch blubber, we gotta take advantage of this a little bit,” guffawed the first. “Let’s keep him around ‘til-” That was all the further he got, as something swung with a good deal of force interrupted him in a less-than-gentle matter, bowling him over onto the ground where he landed hard, a slight cracking sound on hitting suggesting that an arm had tried to break his fall and given under the impact. Suddenly Delan was released, and the group gathered around him was backing off in a hurry. Delan didn’t know why, until he craned his neck to see a pair of clawed, scaly feet standing not too far from his head.

“That was your one warning blow. The next time my blade hits, the sharp end will be what meets you first.”

“Shit! Run!” The bandits scarpered, leaving Delan free and alive; not even the injured one gave him a second thought, growling in agony and holding his broken arm as he followed his fellows into the woods. Hardly daring to believe his good fortune, Delan sat up, taking stock of the emerald-scaled creature standing in front of him, holding a polearm weapon that was taller than its wielder, bearing scarcely-masked muscle of wondrous proportion, large and daunting wings, a thick and heavy tail, dusky horns, and intimidating red eyes looking straight down at Delan, as if assessing whether he should have bothered to rescue him.

Dracoknight.

———

Delan wasn’t completely out of trouble. But this was at least a trouble that might see him finish his mission yet...if he could figure out how to navigate this sticky situation, as he was now following the dracoknight into the woods. “Please...I must know your name, at least.”

“...Fine. It’s Arrik.” The dracoknight didn’t seem keen on giving it, but the third entreaty had finally worn him down. “And I know who you are already. Delan, son of Morses, heritor of the throne of Yunivel. A disruption I could have done without, to be perfectly honest.” The contrast between his simple self-identification and his titling of Delan felt almost a touch embarrassing.

“My gratitude towards you for intervening knows no bounds.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, human prince, but your gratitude has little value here.”

Delan bowed his head. “I understand, Sir Arrik.”

“No sir. Sir is for knights bound to masters. We serve no one that way.”

“...My apologies.” Gruff as Arrik was coming off, Delan knew it wasn’t anything he’d done specifically - such was the way of the dracoknight. Theirs was a fraternal order bound to no ruler and allied with no kingdom - they wielded their power in their own name, unless a contract was made. Mercenary, but not blindly so - they served jobs only if they deemed the cause just and good. Their history was well-known, originally an order serving under a king, who broke away when the king demanded they commit acts they had deemed evil; they had sought employ under other regents, who invariably attempted to abuse their limited authority, and eventually swore off servitude of that sort forever and established the order that existed today. Kings still tried to get them to cooperate with them on a more enduring scale...some of them by force. None had ever succeeded, and dracoknights were renowned for their refusal to work for royals to this day.

It was small wonder to Delan that they could maintain their autonomy, considering the power they bore that he could clearly see was not exaggerated in the slightest, may even have been understated. Arrik’s eight-foot stature was imposing as hell, and he seemed to carry the strength of one at least twice that. The way he wielded his polearm - which had to be ten feet at least - was as effortless as Delan wielding a toothpick. The draconian body housed within it magic of the highest class, equally capable of fostering life as it was end it. Every part of him looked like a weapon that could be used with superb skill. Anyone would be envious of them, and anyone would give a great deal to have that power on their side.

Normally, none could. Dracoknights didn’t just make deals with anyone. Their order not only kept them organized, but fostered their knowledge as well, providing the wisdom and skills to be able to live off the land without any difficulty, so coin was not a temptation to them. They primarily traded for service of some kind, and then only if it was something they needed and the job to do was one they considered acceptable. Killing was not something they did casually, they made a point of not taking lives if driving off foes was an option, and they never took a job for the sole purpose of slaughter. Beyond that, they were willing to do a good deal for the sake of justice, so long as it was targeted narrowly at they who had earned their attention. If they had any reservations about it at all, odds were they would decline the job outright, without room for negotiation. They held all the cards, it was on the one seeking them to convince them to join.

Which meant Delan was both supremely lucky and in a severe bind.

It was rare to cross a dracoknight by chance - they didn’t often stay on well-traveled paths. And it was known that they would intervene to save one from death, provided there wasn’t reason to believe the fate had been brought upon themselves. But this meant that he owed a debt to Arrik, and that was a troubled state. Dracoknights did not approve of either being in debt to someone or having someone indebted to them - either was considered a source of power that undermined their autonomy. And they especially didn’t want royals in either of those states. And that was why Delan know he wasn’t getting away from Arrik without some kind of repayment - Arrik would be seeking to get compensation in some way, so that they were rendered even and could part ways without further incident.

And Delan wasn’t sure that was good news for him, because he was miles away from Cholodessa with no provisions, no survival skills, no helpers, and scant hope for completing his mission. And the odds of getting Arrik to help him out when he already had a debt to repay seemed very long indeed.

At some point, Arrik stopped walking; whether it was a significant location or just felt far enough from the road that he didn’t think anyone would bother them, Delan didn’t know, and it didn’t really matter. “All right, then. We need to figure out how to settle up. If there’s anything I don’t want hanging over my head, it’s an indebted royal. But you...you look to be a sheltered sort.” Arrik was scrutinizing Delan in a slightly uncomfortable way. “Blood from a stone, I’m guessing, to ask anything of you that I might be interested in.”

Delan felt mildly maligned, but it was probably true nonetheless - his nineteen years had been spent learning the ropes of being a royal, not learning trades. “I could...I could find someone in Yunivel who could do something for you. There must be someone in the city who could do so…”

Arrik’s eyes narrowed. “Making others perform in your stead wouldn’t settle your debt. It would only create a different one.”

“I mean...I would pay them…”

“Hmph. I’m not fond of that...people who throw money and status around in order to hide behind others are among the people I have the least trust for. Money is a great deception, a thing that exists because everyone has agreed to enable the lie. Dracoknights prefer direct trade because direct trade is honest…you get a real something rather than a fiction. But...I suppose that it would hardly speed things along to wait for you to develop a skill of use to me, when you have no experience in it. If I want to get this done any time in the next century, I suppose certain concessions will have to be made.”

That was an awful lot of talking for what was essentially an agreement, but Delan doubted it was simply random...Arrik’s disdain for royals probably had him expressing what he thought of him without being too direct about it. He wasn’t going to lie to himself, it stung a little...Delan tried to be a good person in spite of his privileged position, though it was hard to define just what ‘good’ was when everyone seemed to think it meant something different. True, Arrik didn’t know him from a hole in the ground, but to assume he was just as bad as everyone else seemed rather groundless. Then again, Delan couldn’t say that he looked upon too many other royals favorably himself...most of the ones he heard stories about sounded like rather unpleasant people. “I...erm...thank you, Arrik...I, uh…will have to figure out how to arrange something…”

Arrik huffed a bit. “You don’t seem suited for this, boy. Everything about you is utterly overwhelmed, it’s rather pathetic how yielding you are. What has you venturing out of the safety of your halls in such an inept state?”

Delan tried to keep the ire out of his voice - as if he needed his issues pointed out further. “An errand of great importance. My father is ill, and a critical treatment is in Cholodessa.”

“Hm.” If Arrik had any sympathy for that, it wasn’t obvious.

“I...wanted to go to ensure that the proper attention was given to it...there were guards all around me until that ambush, and they...they...they just…”

“Fled like craven cowards?”

“...Were there-”

“Apart from perhaps trivial scratches, those bandits were unharmed. I didn’t even see the blood of others on them. There was no battle.”

Delan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “They wouldn’t have run in fear. They outnumbered the bandits, and they were...almost certainly better armed and armored. Even in an ambush, the favor was heavily theirs. To not even make an effort...they planned to run off. I can’t believe this...never in my life…”

“I thought royals were supposed to be paranoid about treachery. So you were abandoned. That leaves another issue: your paying me back isn’t going to be easy this far away, and I’ve less interest in playing escort to a royal than in burning my own tongue off.”

“I know...I’m not, uh, I don’t...w-wait!” Delan suddenly remembered something important, fumbling in his pockets and pulling out a small clear crystal. “I took a calling crystal with me! I can contact someone in the kingdom, have them send someone to retrieve me!”

“Well, that sounds convenient.” Sincerity or sarcasm, Delan couldn’t tell, but he leaned towards the latter as the dracoknight hadn’t exactly been subtle with his sarcasm up to now. Or maybe he thought Delan coddled...it didn’t matter, Delan felt relief already. His errand might be delayed, but surely he could get back to it tomorrow, his father could surely hold out that much longer.

He activated the crystal, holding it in both hands and stroking it with his thumbs. “Please...hear me, chancellor of Yunivel.”

From the crystal came a glow, rising up over it and spreading out. A faint, mostly transparent image arose quickly in this glow, forming the office of the chancellor, a fine man by the name of Prith. A smaller, leaner man, with a rather long head and a thin mustache, who dressed quite decadently in colorful garb, Delan had known him most of his life...but the image he saw seemed almost nothing like the bright man he knew, an exhausted face that looked hollow and stressed like never before. “Prince Delan? By the gods…”

“Prith? What’s...what’s wrong?”

“I don’t even know all of it. Shortly after you left...I was escorted to my chambers and sealed in with a spell. They...they’re accusing me of attempting to murder King Morses.”

“They’re what?! You can’t be serious!”

“I wish I wasn’t. I don’t know what case they’ve tried to concoct against me...I don’t even know who ‘they’ are. No one’s told me anything except the charges. Some allegation that I did something to give the king this plague...for the sake of the gods, he came to us saying he encountered a diseased squirrel! A dozen people know this!”

One of them being Delan, who heard about it not long after it happened from Morses himself. At the time, he was being given precautionary treatment...that clearly had not been enough, but might have been why he was hanging on as well as he was. How could he buy that Prith had somehow been involved, especially without catching the same plague himself? But from so far away, what could Delan do about it? “Have you talked to anyone?”

“They haven’t let anyone talk to me. I’ve tried calling to the infirmary, but they’ve been told their calling crystal will be smashed if they’re caught speaking to me, and I can’t risk that, they need that too much. And without knowing who’s alleging these things...trying to contact anyone else might be too risky.”

Delan felt his heart sink. This treachery, at the worst possible time...Prith would be able to do nothing for him in this state. “Prith...there’s been trouble with me, too. There was an ambush, I’ve been...waylaid. I’m okay, by grace-”

“Gods above! Of all the times...Delan, I’m so sorry, I wish I could help. If you can get to Cholodessa...the king’s health is paramount right now. I’ll be fine, but if something happens to him, I don’t know what will become of Yunivel the way things are. Do you have any contacts with Cholodessa?”

“I...I don’t, but...I might know where to get one. Prith, stay safe, and don’t let them push you into admitting anything untrue. I promise, I’ll do everything I can, for the sake of you and my father, and all of Yunivel.”

“Godspeed, Delan.” The image faded, and Delan only then realized he was shaking. What the hell was happening in his life? First his father’s illness, then this ambush, and now actions against the chancellor? This was getting to be too much.

“Wow, is it a mess over there.” Ah, and Arrik’s supremely unhelpful commentary. “You sure you don’t want to call that other kingdom instead?”

“I do, but I can’t. I can only call those I’ve made a contact with...and if I try to use it too much too quickly, it breaks. I’ve maybe got two more I can use for now…but, it’s possible to make a connection through someone else’s crystal, if they help. And I know the defense minister is in contact with Cholodessa’s defense minister...if I can get to them through him...okay, okay, I’m going to try, and hope that he’s around…” Delan took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “Please...hear me...defense minister of Yunivel.”

Once again the crystal activated, to a very different area, an office kept clean and orderly, and the image of a sharp-eyed, bearded man with heavy features and a heavy frame. Yunivel’s defense minister, Oglin, always carried himself very tall and strict, and acted as though he was about to march into battle at any moment. He was a stoic man, gruff but courteous, diligent, and always ready for action or consult when needed. “Prince Delan. Not who I expected to see calling me.”

“Oglin! I need help…” Too much, but he decided to focus on just the attack and getting himself back to Yunivel. “There’s been an assault, my carriage was attacked by bandits on the way to Cholodessa! And the guards, they...they just...left me behind! I’m lucky to be alive right now!”

“Yes, indeed you are. I was wondering why your charm still glowed.” Delan’s breath caught in his throat. There would only be one thing Oglin could be referring to...a special charm attuned to each member of the royal family and cabinet, showing that they remained alive. If any one of them were to disappear, they might not know where that person was, but they could tell if he still lived. “I’m not sure how you managed to escape that, but it matters not...I don’t fancy your chances out there, not when beastmen are running about.”

“What?! O-oglin!”

“It will be quite the tragedy. The prince, ambushed and killed. The king, already ill by the chancellor’s hand, falling to demise at the shock and despair. A new leader needed for Yunivel...I’ve always said that this kingdom has been spinning its wheels when we could be using our power for greater things. And I’m sure that the council will see fit to let me lead it there...if they know what’s good for them.”

“Y-you...you can’t…”

“My DEAR prince, I already have, in case you haven’t noticed. Do me one last favor, would you? Try not to live too long out there, I’ve had enough patience waiting for a chance to do something like this. Opportunities aren’t just throwing themselves at me, you know. Good-bye, Delan…I would say ‘farewell’ but I hope you don’t.”

The crystal went dead, and Delan slumped to his knees. That last blow was the hardest...Oglin may not have been the warmest man, but Delan had never noticed any sign that he would be so traitorous. He’d been defense minister for years, surely his father would have noticed something if he’d ever let on...but that reduced his number of allies to precisely zero. Even if he could call someone else, he’d be putting them in grave danger, Oglin would surely try to kill them to keep his plan from falling apart, and the guards...most of them had to be in on it at this point. Were they willing, or forced into it? Did it matter? Never in his life had Delan felt well and truly alone, but now…

“Damn.” Even Arrik sounded mildly sympathetic. Mildly. “I thought I knew nasty royals, but that’s definitely one of the worse stories. The others will have a time of hearing that one.”

Delan wanted to snap to the dracoknight for his glibness...but snapping at him quickly became the farthest thing from his mind. He had ONE chance...neither person he called knew about Arrik! They knew he’d survived the ambush, but not that it was due to someone else’s intervention...Oglin had no plan for this, just expecting that Delan would cark it out there on his own, and Prith wouldn’t be able to be coerced into telling anyone about that possibility even if they used the most potent magic, he couldn’t reveal a player he didn’t know about! If he could make it to Cholodessa, they would be the first to be alarmed at the thought of a warlike Yunivel, they’d be the first in line for such a conquest! It was a desperate, reaching thought, but he could still fix this!

“Arrik! Please…for the love of the gods, take me to Cholodessa!”

The dracoknight did a double-take. “What? Hey, what did I just say about not wanting to play escort to royals? Get there yourself.”

“I can’t...there’s no way I’d make it, I don’t...I don’t have the skills for it. But I know you could do it! And if I came with you, that’s the only way I’d make it there!”

“You’re already in my debt once, this would only make it worse. I’m not even sure how I’m going to be compensated now, since your kingdom is apparently coming apart at the seams, hell if I want to compound that.”

“Arrik, please! You have to help me! I-” Delan didn’t realize how badly he’d spoken until a harsh growl and glare cut him off, as the dracoknight leaned down malevolently towards him.

“I don’t HAVE to do anything for you, royal scum. I don’t TAKE orders from the likes of you. My kind spent years being abused by yours, all seeking to abuse their power for nothing more than villainy and torment. And a sniveling, weakling prince like YOU hasn’t got any more pull over me than the last fly I swatted. You’re lucky I even stepped in to save you in the first place, you’re already taking advantage of that, like hell I’m going to let you use me further!”

Delan was tearing up now - everything hinged on Arrik, and he’d just pissed the dracoknight off badly. There might be no coming back from that...scrambling as fast as he could, he prostrated himself before the scaly warrior, almost sobbing out his pleas. “Please...I beg your forgiveness...that was not what I meant by that...I...I have...I can ask no one else...my life, my father’s life, the lives of everyone in my kingdom, in kingdoms all over...all of them may be lost if Oglin gets his way. All those lives lost, all those cities ruined...Arrik, I know you wouldn’t be all right with that...even if I mean nothing to you, your kind have never stood for such travesty…”

Arrik growled again, though this one was less harsh and, perhaps, more an admission that Delan had pierced his defenses a little. “You fail to understand what it is you’re asking of ME, human. My entire order...our rules are in place for a reason, to maintain our autonomy and keep others from taking advantage of us. Me doing things like this for nothing, that puts ALL of that at risk. ESPECIALLY for a royal! They might hunt ME down and take MY head off for helping you for nothing! That’s how big a deal this is! I may not want to see what you’re talking about at all, but you push me into this and neither of us might live to even get to this place! I know there are others who would consider it more worth their while to maintain our integrity than to kowtow to any cause of a royal’s, even a meaningful one!”

Delan hadn’t known that...it seemed an insurmountable roadblock, the order surely would not approve of such an enormous debt being incurred for royalty. Others would surely try to claim the privilege of such exceptions for themselves, causing them chaos and putting them in danger. If he couldn’t pay anything, then they might all be done for, but if he couldn’t get Arrik’s help, then Arrik might be the only one coming out of it…

Wait. There...there was one thing...gods, maybe...I have to try. Trying to dry his eyes, Delan stood again. “Then...then...I’ll pay you.”

“We’ve established you have nothing to pay me with. I’m well aware of your lack of trade skill, otherwise you would have tried to ply me already.”

“No...there is one thing I can do.” Shuddering a bit, Delan took a deep breath, trying to sound resolute even though he was utterly terrified. If he was wrong, it might just wreck things further...but, he had a feeling he wasn’t wrong. “I’ve heard a bit about dracoknights...enough to...know what your order is like, and to know why you were so angry at what I said, for which I’m deeply sorry for how I misspoke. And I’ve heard, among the...less respectable folks...that dracoknights will take certain...personal services in barter for their own. I may not have much, but I have a body…”

Arrik stared at Delan - for the first time, the dragon seemed to be truly thrown. “You can’t be serious. There’s no way you could handle me. Even if I were to entertain such a notion, you need to be more than a body, and you’re fucking TINY.”

“I don’t care. You...you probably are better equipped to address that than I am.”

“Magic can only do so much. And I’m not into having a partner that blubbers pitifully during the action, that’s not my style.”

“I would endure it. For what’s at stake, I would be willing to do what it takes.”

“I doubt that. This isn’t just some one-and-done deal, that kind of service is a LASTING thing. For what you’re asking, I would command no less than two years of your service, and don’t think that would mean hanging out at your castle - it means YOU follow ME, serve me, serve my fellows, enforced by magic so you cannot break it early. I haven’t seen anything that suggests you’re up to the task of two minutes, let alone two years.”

That did indeed sound like a lot...Delan cursed himself for thinking it could just be so simple. But thinking about his father on his deathbed, Oglin ruining Yunivel and who knew how many other kingdoms in his lust for power...so much was tied to him being able to rise to the occasion. All the time he’d spent being taught how to be a ruler, what was hammered in more than anything was doing what you could for people, something too many royals failed to understand - they made it all about themselves, and ignored the people they were supposed to lead, causing decline and disaster. Now, he had in front of him a chance to either chicken out for his own comfort or stand up for them...it probably helped that the best he could hope for otherwise was probably a quick and relatively painless death. “For the sake of my father, my people, and my kingdom...if that’s the trial I’d have to endure, then I’ll do it.”

Arrik snorted derisively. “You’re not making me forget you were cowering and crying just a couple minutes ago. You aren’t cut out for-”

“Arrik!” Delan’s voice cut in hard enough that the dragon was actually shocked into silence. “Did you not yourself say that you wished me not to hide behind money and status to compensate you? Did you not lament me not being able to do anything for you? You think it’s fair to chide me for being yielding and then berate me for trying to stand firm? This is what I can do for you. You know as well as I that it is ALL I can do for you. If you mean to test me, then test me, because if I’m going to die, by the gods I’m going to die trying to save everyone rather than as a pathetic creature sniveling in the woods waiting for some beast to devour me!”

There was a ringing silence, broken only by Delan’s deep, heavy breaths, trying not to look terrified at the fact that he’d just more or less yelled at a creature several times his size. Arrik looked rather stunned at the outburst, and it took him some time to collect himself...but eventually, he thudded the blunt end of his polearm into the ground.

“Maybe you have some spunk in you yet, human prince. Now we’ll test whether you can handle mine. If you can’t, then this will be the end of it...but if you can...then I’ll grant you your deal. Now disrobe, and hope like hell your body can back up your mouth.”

———

“Intimidating” seemed far too paltry a word for what was happening now. Delan couldn’t imagine a single person not calling him insane for what he was doing now…standing nude, trembling, in front of a disrobed and unsheathed dracoknight, preparing to accept a carnal violation that he himself had invited. Desperation made strange beasts of all, it seemed…Delan wasn’t sure he could actually endure it, but he had to try. If he failed…well, at least he wouldn’t be around to see the fallout of it, but if that was the best he could say about it, it truly felt like he had to do everything he could to pull through.

But it wasn’t going to be easy, by any stretch of the imagination. Arrik was looking down at him dubiously, arms folded…his scant coverings were discarded, a loincloth and belts that seemed more for the appearance of decorum than anything, as the dracoknight seemed more natural with none of it on than otherwise. To need no coverings to have such stature…Delan couldn’t deny a touch of envy, though at the moment that was a faint feeling compared to the anxiety. And the biggest source of that anxiety was the staff protruding from the scaled warrior’s slit, a titan of a cock in absolute terms, to say nothing of how it outclassed his own. Delan was not exactly heavily endowed - rumored to be part of a family curse, King Morses was rumored to be similarly small, though he had not sought to have this confirmed directly - and he was fairly sure that his length at full mast (which it most decidedly was not at the moment) could have been stacked fourfold and still come up short of that behemoth. And its girth was nothing to slouch at, either, particularly with that bulge near the base…even the tip, despite being pointed, was of not-inconsequential thickness. The shaft had some ridges along the length, accentuating the inhumanness of the endowment - something that Delan knew was going to leave an impression, the exoticness of beastman cocks was something that was reviled in many circles, but he knew that there were those who would accept nothing less. He’d never thought those folks to be normal…well, he wasn’t thinking that now, either, but that seemed like such a small thing compared to what the stakes were now.

The problem was, Arrik’s cock was NOT a small thing, and Delan rather was. And he hadn’t forgotten the dracoknight’s warning - magic could compensate only for so much. For his untested orifices, this was basically the maximum challenge he could have imagined without going full-on feral…not that he ever would have considered that, either. And it was obvious he was daunted, despite trying his best not to be.

Arrik could tell quite clearly as well. “I’m going to say this only once, runt. If your mouth is occupied, smack me three times on the thigh - your puny hands aren’t going to damage me, don’t hold back. If your mouth is free, yell to stop. The moment you do either of those, I’m done, and you’re on your own.” It was stated in such a way that he essentially expected Delan to do so…Delan knew that Arrik didn’t think much of him, but he didn’t care. Either he would prove himself strong enough to save his kingdom, or he wouldn’t…and while Arrik wouldn’t directly kill him, he’d still be dying in disgrace. He nodded to Arrik, affirming he knew, while doing all he could to gird himself against doing either of those. The dracoknight didn’t give him much more time to try, though, pointing at his cock. “Then get to work. Show me what kind of resolve you have in that…body of yours.” It almost felt like he thought calling it a body was an overstatement, though Delan didn’t begrudge him that - he knew he was not a tough or large sort, and hadn’t been cultivated as such. To most beastmen, he would have been considered similarly impotent…he didn’t have time for wounded pride.

Onto his knees he dropped, pulling that hefty cock down towards his face. The musky scent hit him like a cavalryman crashing into him, thick and intense, with a bitterness and dryness that was distinctive, although not particularly pleasant. His head was swimming with just a few whiffs, but he knew that if he managed to endure this, he was going to have to get used to it anyway…victory meant two more years of this, at least. Compared to what failure meant, he couldn’t imagine it not being preferable. He started to stroke that thick cock, needing both hands to get good purchase on it, and licked at the tip, slurping over it tentatively, forcing himself not to retreat. The taste was just as intense as the scent, with an extra tang of saltiness mixed in, and there was a natural slickness to it which seemed to stick to his tongue…Delan wasn’t going to claim it was particularly enjoyable, but it was less offensive than he had feared it would be, at least.

But he wasn’t going to be going at his own pace much longer, as he felt a heavy hand on his head. “Last warning, bitch prince…nothing I do will kill you or physically harm you. But it is NOT going to be comfortable for you.” Arrik’s words lingered in Delan’s mind, his eyes closing tight as he continued to lick, trying to brace himself for when the thrust came. His tongue lapped up some slightly leaking precum, its flavor unexpectedly having a hint of sweetness that wasn’t present in any other part of him, and he felt a shiver down him as he swallowed it…a slight shiver that twisted through his body, spreading from his core out through the rest of him. Unfamiliar, but Delan knew the tenor of it…magic. The bodies of some species were heavily tinted with it, and consuming something such as a drop of their blood could actually null resistance to their magic…clearly, that was not the only fluid that carried that property. Arrik could act freely on him now, and was clearly doing so…two years of that might permanently make him incapable of resisting any dracoknight’s spells. Perhaps that would be an appropriate incentive not to bother them anymore after that…if he got there.

It was when that shiver faded that he realized he was in for it…right before Arrik clenched onto his head and bucked in. The prince’s eyes bugged out as his jaw was warped, and several inches of draconic cock were buried in his throat. His hands flailed a bit at the sudden motion, the obscene stretch making him panic a bit - his brain wasn’t recognizing that he wasn’t in mortal peril, despite the lack of outright pain it certainly wasn’t comfortable. His air was cut off, there was no breathing around that thick cock, it was taking up more space than Delan actually had inside him, forcing him to stretch around and cling to that pole. A sudden, brief bout of sense broke through, allowing him to think just enough to grab Arrik’s legs and hold tight. He tried to settle himself down, but his body was still reacting less than wonderfully…

Arrik clearly didn’t care, and he was starting to thrust in and out of Delan’s throat, making the human’s vision blur as he was assailed by that monstrous tool. It was clearly far too large for reason, without magic he would have been torn apart, and as it was he felt like he was on the verge of it constantly. He could only imagine how it would have looked to anyone observing, if he felt this stretched there had to be an obscene bulge in his throat from the outside as well…it was hard to care about that, though, as much as the fact that he couldn’t breathe, and his head didn’t like that. And all he could do was endure, let that monster force its way in, drool more of that slick precum down into his stomach, rout his tongue with that debilitating flavor of dragon.

Delan was understanding what Arrik had spoken about now…it didn’t even feel like the dracoknight was going as hard as he could have. This was just his casual pace, and it was beyond overwhelming. They weren’t made for this kind of interaction, and if magic couldn’t resolve that…maybe he was capable of enduring physically, but not mentally. By all rights, Delan should have been destroyed just by this, rendered an insensible, babbling wreck as he literally choked on Arrik’s cock. He had an out, though - just three hard raps on Arrik’s thigh, and it would be over.

And so would everything else.

So much of him was screaming at him to end it as soon as possible. Teetering on the edge of consciousness, like he was about to asphyxiate on it, the spell would never let it get that far, sustaining him indefinitely, but his brain didn’t recognize that, it was in an endless state of panic that wanted to compel him to act NOW before it was too late. His mouth and throat ached from the overexertion, distorted uncomfortably in an absurd act of enforced compliance…the relief of having it out of him would have been unspeakable. His nose was almost sticky with the thickness of the musk drifting into it, his stomach was feeling the heat of that precum pouring into him, his tongue was struggling to endure the harsh flavor it was being besieged with. And Arrik was only thrusting harder, pushing more of that cock into him, going deeper, that thick knot grazing against Delan’s lips, the ribs popping in and out of his lips and eliciting a bizarre feeling inside his throat…everything was stacked against him, by all rights he should have been slamming his hand into Arrik’s thigh until he broke it (his hand, not that scaly mass of muscle).

But his hands clung tightly to those legs still, not moving an inch…he had to keep going. Had to take it. Had to endure. If he didn’t, all that he’d managed up to this point would be for nothing. All would be lost. And despite the fact that everything was telling him to cut and run, that last shred of resolve clung to him, fighting with all its might to prevail against all the forces tearing at it furiously. How much longer could he hold out, though? The instincts of mortal beings to avert death, even an imagined one, were powerful, and if his mind slipped any further, it might be gone…

But then he felt a throb. An added sensation of thickness inside his overstretched esophagus, brief but impossible to miss with how tight he already was around it. And that buoyed him…Arrik had to be close. He could pick up on it now, the growls and snorts from the dracoknight, sounds which hadn’t been there before…he fought hard to hang in there, to keep going to Arrik’s finish, if he could just make it there then he would have passed the first test…even as that knot pounded against his face, almost trying to break it, he closed his eyes and forced himself to hold out, just a little bit longer, trying to keep the protests of his body and mind out of his head…

The first gush of hot, thick fluid was almost a blessing. And then just as quickly almost a curse. It gushed in hard, fast, too fast…his body wasn’t able to convey it as quickly as it wanted to, causing it to back up, but Arrik’s cock was far too thick to let any of it slide back, causing a stretch inside him in a very uncomfortable spot. The human’s eyes watered as he was forced to endure yet another unexpected trial on the path to his last chance, but he hung in there, and eventually some part of him started to cooperate, easing the pressure in one way while adding to it in his stomach, which could handle it a little better. So much of it, Arrik was so impressively virile, he had to wonder what those balls must have looked like, hidden inside him…thoughts like that actually beat back against the haziness of his oxygen-deprived brain, keeping him just sensible enough to keep his wits about him and keep from surrendering. He fought hard to ride out the dracoknight’s climax, hoping that had had enough left in him to do so…

Arrik’s last act, though, caught him off-guard. Delan could feel those shots start to taper off…and then Arrik pulled back, drawing his cock out, out, all the way to the tip, which remained in, forcing Delan’s tongue to endure a flood of slightly sweet, slightly salty, slightly bitter cum, which the prince had to suddenly find the sense to react to. He swallowed as quickly as he could, but it was far too much, and his head wasn’t at all prepared for this, meaning so much of it was leaking and spurting and dribbling out of his mouth…this felt like too much, like he might drown in it if it went on too much longer, and once again the impulse to beg for mercy was being pushed into him, trying to force him to give up and save himself, which he knew would only doom himself…

But he hung with it…and it slowed down, to the point where he could keep up, drinking down the rest of the dragon’s climax as his head slowly righted itself. His breathing stabilized, staying deep and heavy but back in control…his head cleared a bit as the fog lifted…his body relaxed as it was allowed to be back in its normal shape. And Arrik finally drew himself out all the way, letting a few more shots spurt onto Delan’s face and chest. The prince slumped forward a bit, using his shaky arms to brace himself as they disengaged from Arrik’s legs, trying to recover from that merciless facefucking. How insane it was that he had actually held out…there remained hope, however faint. He knew he wasn’t done yet, though…would the next part be even harder? He didn’t know, but he was at least able to find out.

“…Well, shit.” Arrik’s voice was for once less gruff and more approving. “I didn’t think you’d hold out for one minute, let alone all the way. Figured I’d be pumping myself to rest against a tree while you crawled off in shame…guess your pampered lifestyle hasn’t totally killed the fight in you yet.”

Delan only managed to mutter a breathless “thank you” between breaths…not exactly the most unambiguously warming words, but considering who and what he was, it was probably monumental praise coming from a dracoknight. But he had other things to think about…namely, an odd warmth through his body, one that felt like it was building from his core…and, unexpectedly, he found that his dick, minute as it was, was fully hard. When had THAT happened? He couldn’t have said he felt particularly aroused or anything during that blowjob…

He didn’t have much time to think about this, though, as he was snatched up by Arrik, and then flipped over so that his face was almost in the dirt when the dragon came down on him. He gasped a bit, squirming as he found himself trapped in that tight grip, the dragon almost impossibly powerful…the tip of that cock was nudging against his virgin pucker, promising a second round that would likely test him just as much. And Delan knew that he wasn’t out of the woods yet - now he had to stop himself from telling the dragon to stop, and that might be even harder. Especially when Arrik growled at him from above. “Since you managed to get through that…a little warning to you, I hold back even less like this. I’d tell you to relax, but I doubt it’ll make much difference.”

To call that a warning would have been a rank overstatement, as Delan barely had time to process the words before Arrik struck. And the human’s eyes bugged out, the air driven from him in a silent scream as he was thrust into with the utmost brutality. There was no preparation, no easing in, the dracoknight using his incredible strength to force the human’s body to be impaled on his cock all the way to the knot in one single devastating thrust. This was no act of pleasure, it was a declaration of conquest, and Delan’s untried innards were the target…the enormity of it didn’t hit all at once, taking moments to sink in and throw the human’s entire mind off-kilter. It was so huge, stretching his body in ways that he never imagined possible, and there wasn’t anything remotely comfortable about it, his body protesting every inch that invaded him. Never in his life had he imagined feeling what he was feeling now, and every part of his body was begging him to put a stop to it.

“Breathe, bitch, you’re not gonna die.” Arrik’s voice was bereft of sympathy, but why wouldn’t it be? Delan had been the one to push this, he was getting exactly what he asked for…Arrik had warned him it wasn’t going to be pleasant, and Delan had still insisted. And so the human tried to do what he was told to do, agonized gasps drawing in feeble amounts of air before it was driven out again by the dracoknight dragging that thick cock out of him and shoving it back in. It spite of everything, it wasn’t outright painful, but pain wasn’t the only distress one could feel, and Delan was getting all the rest of it in spades…his body wasn’t designed for this, and wasn’t being adjusted nearly enough to accept it as something okay. Even with the constant, unrelenting pressure on his prostate, pleasure simply wasn’t getting through, making it a tumultuous experience to put it mildly. One he could have ended at any time…all he needed to do was unleash that magic word, even on the thinnest, airiest breath, and that would bring the ordeal to a finish.

At least it wouldn’t FEEL like he was dying, at least until he did.

Delan’s jaw clamped shut tight, almost to the point of hurting as he fought to hold it in. If the oral had tested his last shred of resolve, this was a pack of wolves tearing at it while it clung tenuously to a fine silken rope that could snap at any moment. He was getting no chance to recover, Arrik was slamming in with all the force that studly draconic body could muster, each impact making his vision blur briefly and rattling the core of his mind. It was everything he could do to bite back the instinct to put an end to it, if Arrik had anything more he could do to him that would probably have finished him off…but it sure as hell felt like the dracoknight was going all out, using him like a toy that he wouldn’t care if he broke. Which was probably true on some level…

But Delan clung. Somehow, some way, he clung. Fingers curled in the grass and dirt, trying to hold tight to something, trying to endure was what being delivered to him without remorse or reserve. He tried his utmost to relax even a little bit, to relieve even a tiny bit of that pressure within him…it didn’t change much, but even that fraction of reduced tension was a godsend, the minute bit of bearability giving him just a little bit more to clutch onto. His own diminutive cock was getting hard, though mostly involuntarily…as his brain became fatigued to the raw agony of the stretch, the slightest hints of pleasure were creeping in, not nearly enough to truly offset what he was enduring, but enough that it was proven to be possible in the most rudimentary sense. But his erection was not one of lust, but of natural stimulation, doing its natural duty while the rest of Delan suffered the trial.

“Rrgh…had…enough…yet…bitch…prince?” That oppressive snarl from above Delan seemed almost like it was daring him to stop it…at this point Delan wasn’t even entirely sure Arrik would, in the middle of rutting a tight bitch that he could have easily snapped in half, what reason did he have to grant leniency? He could tell anyone that Delan had demanded it, and no one would even care about the ‘stop’ in the middle. Maybe…that was just an excuse Delan was telling himself, to try to tamp down the temptation to say that magic word. But it was, perhaps, somewhat effective…he was a bitch prince who’d dared a dracoknight to do his worst, and Arrik had no reason not to give it to him, so what point was there in trying to terminate it? All this while Arrik seemed almost to be trying to coax that word out of him…

Perhaps he was, with his next line. “If you think…this is too much…hrrr…my knot…isn’t far from…trying to get in…” Delan’s eyes widened further, his grunts getting louder as he registered that fat bulb that was currently slamming into him…it felt too large to even be another piece of the puzzle, surely that had to be Arrik’s body pounding against him, not another thick piece of meat that was meant to go inside him. But no, he knew that wasn’t true, it was just his brain’s efforts at denial again, this time not working in his favor. And as it pummeled him harder, teasing him with the stretch of a lifetime, he wasn’t sure he could handle it…not like this, not with so little to make him pliable, maybe Arrik could get it in without damaging Delan but surely it was going to BREAK him.

But Arrik wasn’t holding anything back, and Delan could feel him adding to the pressure, trying to make his hole give in, and his hole was begging for mercy already. Delan’s head was spinning once again, but in a different way…everything was too much, he couldn’t hope to handle more on top of this, he had to stop it, had to give up, had to surrender. He was a fool, he couldn’t have hoped to have endured what a dracoknight was capable of, couldn’t have hoped to have stood against Oglin, to have been the lone hope of support for his father…it was impossible for him, he wasn’t anything, barely a worthy piece of meat to sheath a dracoknight’s cock into. No one would have blamed him for failing, it was in no way a fair test, no human could have endured something like this…his voice let out a choked, strained word. “A-Arrik…”

The dracoknight slowed, only just enough to let Delan get some voice back…his cock still plunged in, threatening that fat knot’s intrusion. “Speak, bitch.”

“…Arrik…hn…nn…KNOT ME!”

Where Delan had found that last gasp of resolve, even he didn’t know. He was certain he had nothing left, certain he was doomed to failure…and somehow, he’d managed to draw up one more time. But when Arrik dropped down further and gripped him tight, snarling in his ear “good luck with that, bitch prince,” he wondered if that last gasp had been a mistake. And then Arrik thrust, and he knew it was. The impossibly powerful draconic muscles slamming in and then amping up the pressure, that knot no longer yielding even a fraction and his ass being made to surrender, slowly but surely, now outright painful as he was made to distort beyond any reasonable means. Delan screamed, screamed as it powered in, screamed as his body screamed at him to put an end to it, to release him from that ungodly torment and finally save him, thereby dooming him. An orgasm hit poorly, not even registering in his mind, overwhelmed by everything already, his cock drooling ineffectually its dismal seed, and still Arrik would not yield, would not stop inching Delan’s ass open, intent on breaking the bitch prince.

All that…and the one thing that didn’t come out was a plea to stop.

And then, suddenly, Arrik surged forward, that fat bulb driving in all the way, and a bone-rattling roar erupted from the dracoknight. Searing seed splashed into him, intensely hot and almost painful in its own right, yet in some bizarre way almost soothing the raw ache a little bit. There was so much of it, and while Delan felt packed enough for a lifetime already, there was another level of it now hitting as he was stretched even further, filled even fuller, that heavy load pulsing in hard enough to feel like minor slugs to the gut each time. The human was almost insensate now, drooling dimly, vision blurry and fading in and out, chest heaving in and out as he tried to recover his breath, the tension of that cock inside him interfering with his reclamation. And that cum, keeping on flowing, heating him up inside, stretching him out even more, not a single drop even remotely close to bypassing that absurdly stretched asshole while Arrik’s knot was locked deep within.

Somehow, Delan clung to the fabric of consciousness…it wasn’t easy, his body wanted to fade out, to drop into the darkness, but as the dracoknight’s load tapered off, he was gradually able to placate it with the knowledge that it was more or less done…he still wasn’t going to be going anywhere for a while, but at least he could rest.

And while Delan might not have believed he could pull it off, his doubt was a fraction of the scaled beast above him. “…I don’t believe it. You…actually got through it.” The harshness in Arrik’s voice was gone, astonishment taking its place. “I’d never have imagined…I didn’t even think that was possible…”

Delan couldn’t speak at first, head still spinning. That brutal knotting had taken a lot out of him, even now he feared that he’d broken something beyond repair, magic or not. When he finally found his voice, it was still quick shaky and halting, and only partly coherent. “You…th-thought…I…haah…wuzgun…gonna…b-be too weak…”

Arrik was quiet for a moment before responding. “Well, of course I did. That was meant for you to fail.”

“Whuh...huh…”

“There are rules among our kind, you know that well enough. ‘Don’t work for royals’ is at the top of that list, ten times larger than the next ten put together. We are told, in no uncertain terms, that if a royal tries to get us to make a deal with them, we’re obligated to do everything in our power to ensure they can’t. If they push in a way we can’t reject easily, then we…agree to accept, contingent on a test they must pass. Except, the test is very deliberately stacked against them, to an extreme degree. So that when they fail, we can go on our way knowing that we technically gave them a chance. It’s not typically that difficult…royals quite often show lots of tenacity when all they have to do is speak, but falter very quickly when tasked to perform…it’s usually a given that we’ll be rid of them.”

“When you offered your body…I told you magic can only do so much. But…it can do quite a bit more than what I actually allowed it to. There’s a protocol even for this - use the barest minimum of magic to ensure they won’t be harmed, but nothing to ease the experience. It is, perhaps, the most unreasonable test of all of them…most last only seconds before giving in, and for good reason. I’ve never heard of any royal successfully making it through before...to be sure, precious few have ever tried, most wouldn’t deign to ‘sully themselves’ in that way, but that makes it all the more likely that it would deter them. To hear you even call for my knot…”

It was starting to sink in to Delan just what had happened. Why Arrik had been warning him beforehand, why he had made it so clear how he could get out of it, why he had sounded like he expected Delan to fail. Because he had…because that trial he had just endured existed for the sake of his failure. It wasn’t merely a test, it was an active effort to stop him. And…somehow, he had still made it through. “But…then…what…now?”

“…You have held up your end. I must accept the deal. Even within our most stringent rule, we dracoknights must accept that sometimes, there are exceptions. On rare occasion, even a royal manages to impress…and it would be a rank dishonor to refuse them even after they pass, if the cause is a fair and just one. And from what I have heard, I couldn’t reasonably argue otherwise. My kin will accept this, knowing that I did all I could to avoid it and you still succeeded…they may not be overly happy, but they’re wise enough to know that there are times when we must be adaptable.” Arrik rubbed a hand over Delan’s swollen midsection; the human could feel something sloshing around a bit inside, it was a strange experience. “Once my knot is down, we will clean you up and I will take you to Cholodessa, and we will address the issues at Yunivel. And then…”

“Then…” Delan swallowed, remembering the terms of the deal. “Then…I spend…two years…with you…”

“Yes. But it will not be like this…it would be beyond me to put you through the worst trial possible every time, especially when it wasn’t meant for that. It will be a much more amenable time for you during those two years, something that you can enjoy rather than endure. And…there is potential in you, Delan, potential I refused to see, but you showed me nonetheless. In two years, you could learn some things…skills which you can hold as your own, rather than commanding to others. By the end, perhaps, you could be a royal that even the dracoknights would find some hint of approval for…we may not work for them, but there are those who we must accept are better than others. It would be foolish not to recognize that, should there be a need for it…and I think such need is evident here.”

“Thank you…Arrik…” It was about the last thing he would have expected to hear from a dracoknight, but at the moment, Delan was less concerned with what Arrik thought of him and more heartened by what would happen. They could stop this after all…save everyone…that was what mattered most.

———

“Oglin Burundar.” The voice of King Morses was still diminished, but had at least some of that gravel back to it that it normally had, as he leveled his weary but hostile eyes at the defiant yet frustrated man in chains held before him. “Scarcely have I heard of treachery the likes of which you have attempted on our fair kingdom. An insidious coup attempt, trying to assassinate both myself and my son…all in the name of bloody warfare and conquest? Gods above, have you no shame or decency in you?”

“…You are a fool, Morses,” growled Oglin. “Yunivel will disappear into irrelevance, for the failure to make its mark on the world. I would have ensured it would be forever remembered for its influence! As the one to rule all, or even to be burned into their memories forever for its exploits!”

“Your soul is blacker than the clouded night sky. It is far better to fade into obscurity than to be remembered as a monster. But your fate will hopefully be the opposite of your desire. Your actions, and your unrepentance, have left me no choice - I hereby sentence you to death. Take him away, and let him not blight my vision any further. The only thing I want to hear of him is that he lives no more.”

The guards at either side of Oglin turned him and hauled him away. As they did, Oglin spared a hateful glare towards prince Delan, standing off to the side, looking less regal than normal - bereft of his usual expensive garb, dressed much more plainly and simply. “How dare you survive out there?! Everything was going to plan…you had no business making it to Cholodessa! I’ll curse you with my last breath, you’ll rue everything-” A smack from the guard stopped him from speaking further as he was hauled out. Delan said nothing in reply - it was the impotent ranting of a failure, it deserved no response. And he could not spare any compassion for Oglin’s fate - especially not when it came out that it had been he who had paid one of the guards to capture the squirrel that had been loosed on Morses in the first place. Using illness as a cover for assassination in such a way, the gambit had been chancy but low-risk if it failed, they wouldn’t have thought twice about a wild animal that they’d escaped from…Oglin had been very good at covering his tracks until he thought he had won.

Now Delan approached his father, bowing to him. “Father…I’m glad to see you sitting there again, if only briefly.”

“My son…” Morses’ voice lost its edge, betraying his tiredness. He was on the mend, and would recover fully as far as anyone expected, but it would still be several days before he was back to full health. “I cannot, in good conscience, tell you not to leave, especially not considering who you have bargained with…to have gained any help from a dracoknight…” The king shook his head, still in disbelief; he was the only one Delan had told about what had truly happened out there, not wanting anyone else to spread rumors that Arrik or others of his kind wouldn’t have appreciated. Although, he had left out a few details… “But…two years is a long time. I will miss you dearly…and to have no way of contacting you, that will be hard…”

“I know, father. But I must do what I agreed to, and to see you safe, and Yunivel safe, is well worth the price I chose to pay. And…you have taught me a lot, Father, but I feel that this may teach me even more, and make me a better person and a more worthy successor to you, when the time does come…and may that time be a long ways away still.”

“I hope to make it to that day myself…I shall be far more cautious. Prince Delan…as hard as it will be to see you go, I shall be waiting earnestly to see what you have become in your return. May the grace of the gods be with you…although, in the hands of a dracoknight, I’m not sure much more security will be necessary. I hope you can tell me of the wonders you see while with him.”

Delan nodded. “I shall make a point of it, father…so you make sure to stay in good health so I can do so.”

———

Leaving Yunivel had been hard the previous time. It was perhaps harder this time, knowing that he wouldn’t be seeing it again for far longer than before. Yet…Delan didn’t feel as nervous about it this time, just wistful. It was his home, the only one he knew, and he would be living a far different lifestyle during his service than he did there. But at the same time, he didn’t regret his bargain, and he was feeling something he’d rarely felt before…a desire for the experience, for the chance to grow.

It was well into the trees when he found Arrik again - though there was no chance of missing him, not when the dracoknight’s spell had bound them already. Arrik gave him a nod when Delan approached. “So it’s all satisfied, then?”

“Yes…thank you for allowing me a few days to ensure my father’s health. As promised, I shall make them up fivefold.”

“I’ve no doubt of that. And smarter clothes, too, for being out and about, you have some sense about you.” The dragon smirked a bit. “Though I hope you’re prepared to be without for quite a lot of our time together.”

Delan reddened a bit, but nodded. “Of course. I’m prepared to accept anything…and hopefully, will soon be prepared for more of it.”

“You’ve the right attitude, Delan. Something tells me you’ll learn better than I would expect from a prince.” The dracoknight straightened up and beckoned to him. “Come along, then. I’d like to be more out of the way when I show you the much more enjoyable side of laying with a dracoknight…your moans and cries will carry, and I would rather they not reach prying ears.”

“At your will, Arrik.” Delan followed behind the dracoknight, the first steps of a long journey. One which he had proven worthy of through the harshest trial he could have imagined…but just as blades needed to be forged in the fires of a kiln, so too did betterment of oneself require challenge and tribulation. And if he had proven that he could handle Arrik’s worst, than he had to believe he was capable of everything else…and he couldn’t simply let that sit idle. He didn’t know what would happen in the coming months, but he would face it as resolutely as he faced Arrik - and enjoy his time serving the dracoknight.