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Of Valor in Men

Prologue: Of the Bitter Cold

The sound of the icy sea and low whistling winds were common here in Dragonholme. Rolling green hills, dense pine forests, and steep shores, all blasted in either snow, fog or rain, year long, even the sun did little to warm the airs. Yet life fostered here, and most surprisingly, it thrived; wild colonies of hares could be seen up on the hills. Towns and forts littered the mountains and shores, the land here was harsh, the people here stuck together.

Even the shores here in my childhood home bore a pearly whiteness to it rather then that of a warm yellow or soft red, so much so that to foreigners it looked like snow. The very air itself as it filled my lungs with every breath brought a warmth to me under my armour. I had been raised here, in some lonely cabin far outside of Solitude.

And it was here that I would exact my vengeance, the vengeance that the Church so arrogantly denied me. Though I couldn't help but stare at the mud of the laneway, lost in thought, holding but a simple silver locket in my gauntlet. It was so tiny, it had once been hers, now it was all that's left, now it drives me, fueled me.

My fist clenched tight over it as the heavy oak door swung open with a frosty creak, taking in a deep breath and looking up, ready to get on the road.

Chapter one: lonely nights

The wind blew through the fort known as the Crossroads, bitter and cold. Hail was drawing near, either that or a blizzard, both of which loomed in the distance threatening to halt my journey further. I was already burdened by the insult of a scribe the Black Church had forced upon me, I had pleaded to the council for scores upon scores for a scribe, my eyes set on Brandon the stable boy, but no, the Church once again “knew better".

The wretched reptile stood beside me, teeth chattering in the cold, thick bear fur coat that was obviously too big for him draped over his shoulders. He had nothing to his name, save a small shoulder cape he refused to part with. The two of us were waiting for a carriage from BerryBuckle, the town a little inland from the Crossroads where I was to catch up with an old friend. Or at least that was the plan, till this blasted weather decided to freeze over the marsh road into town.

I lead on into the forts main hall, old timbers, smelling of fresh lacquer and smoke from the fireplace both definitely made for a warmer atmosphere. One that my so called squire took to with a relieved smile as he raced to the fire. I cursed under my breath as I marched up to the counter at the far end of the room. What a joke this was, a renowned knight being forced to train a slave soldier from another country.

The scrawny man behind the bar recognised me near instantly, his sunken eyes lighting up just a bit as I approached.

“Sir Roderic, tis been a whiles. Didn't think I'd see you round these parts again, what brings you back to the Crossroads?" the boy asked, his voice carried a slow drawl typical of the northerners, the same drawl I had though not as thick or slow.

“William! Still working the bar I see, hmm, just here to rent a room...two rooms, for the night, or at least until the marsh road thaws" I responded, my voice loud and boisterous as always, William however smirked as he always did.

“Roads going to be frozen over for a whiles what with the winds coming down from the tundra. Better off asking one'o the dragons in the stables round back to fly ya over the marshes" He said, fishing around in a small back room that joined the cellar for a pair of room keys. I rose a brow at that notion, wondering if Niyla was around. Her mother had worked on my families farm back when I was just a child, I'd been raised alongside her. Last I saw of her she was drifting around dragonholme.

“...Is Niyla here? By any chance…" I asked quietly as William trudged back up to the counter with a set of big iron keys.

“Aye, she's out back in the stables, she's been running a few local race circuits lately, done her wing in bad last run. Now she's resting up here, says the Volak up here is the best around, heh." he replied as I scooped the keys up and let out a huff of air through my nose, forking out a gold coin to cover the rooms for tonight.

“So she's drunk? And racing now too, great." I muttered to myself a I turned and scaned about for me “squire". The wretched lizard had found another of his kind in which to chat with, a plumper one, sharply dressed, I overheard the word “brothel" as I walked past, heading outside once more.

The stables were around back, in their own little walled in muddy courtyard, nothing grand or flashy like the Claw Keep, but for tired dragons looking for a comfy bed for the night, it made do. I hadn't seen Niyla in years, we'd had a falling out some time during my youth, she'd wanted us to become famous racers, I wanted to be a knight, a Rider. Even as I rounded the corner and ducked through the low stone archway I felt nervous, I hadn't left her on the best terms.

She lay there in the shade of one of the stable stalls, a defeated look on her face, her left wing bandaged to her side and splinted. I hesitated, last I'd seen her she was as big as a dog, now she dwarfed me, easily the size of a clydesdale and then some.

“Roderic…" I suddenly heard her voice deep in my head, I hadn't taken a single step toward her yet and she already knew it was me.

“Niyla, It's...been a while, hasn't it" I said in response, taking a few steps toward her before she gave me a sullen look, It was clear she still held a grudge.

“Leave me alone Roderic…" her voice came once more, piercing my thoughts loud and clear, it felt closed off now, there had been a time where her mind was open to me, but not anymore.

“I heard you had an accident while racing… I hope you're alright" I said, looking down at her with a pang of guilt, I had always thought about what would have been if I had stuck with her.

“As if you care…" she spat, this time in tongue, and under her breath, her foreleg reaching for an abandoned bottle of wine. By the looks of things she'd worked her way through a whole crate of said wine.

“This is what you waste your winnings on? Wine?" I said with a disappointed tone. I had been keeping up with the races in the time I could spare, I had been ever since I left, from what I knew she had been doing well in the sprint circuits.

“Why do you care what I waste my last winnings on! I'm out of the season cause of this stupid injury! I'll be toiling on some farm for the rest of the year just like I always do!" she shouted, raising to full height, drunkenly swaying on her feet as she looked me dead in the eyes, she raised a fore paw and took a swipe at me, only to fall flat on her face. She rolled onto her side and let out a defeated huff through her nose, I moved to sit beside her on the stone floor. I sat there with her, my old childhood friend, one hand laid upon her neck, her scales still felt as warm as always even through the leather of my gauntlet.

"I do care... I always did..." I muttered to myself as the sun set slowly behind the thick foggy grey clouds, Eventually Niyla passed out and I left her be, trudging my way back to the main hall of the fort, I needed I drink.

The bar was more lively now, mainly just soldiers stationed at the fort itself but patrons where patrons, there were even some local outlying farmers and stable men, all come for a stiff drink in warm surroundings. out of the corner of my eye I spotted my superposed squire being hauled up stairs in the arms of the plumper fellow from before, the two of them acting rather flirtatiously, my lip turned as I saw it, wanting nothing more then to spit in disgust.

“Urgh...freak…" I muttered to myself as I made my way up to the bar for a drink, William no longer attending it but instead a freckled red haired woman I knew all too well.

“Solda? My by the lords haven't you grown…" I said quietly to the now smiling woman, she'd been just a baby when I'd left.

“Well well, If it isn't Roddy Hargrieve, It tis been a while hasn't it" she reposted, smiling wide as she slammed down a pair of frothing tankards for the gentlemen next to me.

“That it has. That it has…" I replied, sullenly as I took out the small locket stashed safely in the leather pouch on my belt. I rubbed my thumb over it as I sat there at the bar.

“Anything I can get you, Roddy?" she asked a moment later, but I didn't hear her, I was consumed by staring at the small portrait of the little girl within the locket I'd given her.

“...Just an ale… please…" I muttered as my fist clenched tightly, my knuckles most likely white under the thick leather gauntlet.

I sat there for what seemed like an eternity, simply staring at the locket, and drinking the pain away, till the moon rose high and fatigue finally bested me. Only back narry a single day and already I found my head haunted by things I wanted only to forget.