“Let him go!” I shouted, already taking a step forward towards the line of guards and my imprisoned god-Uncle behind them. There was a warning hiss of dragon-shriek above us, as the still-circling blue dragon circled a little lower.
But anger was once again trying its best to fill me – there was that slight buzz in my ears from the Stone Crown, and the far healthier heat of Ymmen’s annoyance at being treated in this way, pressing against my mind.
“Halt where you are!” shouted one of the Torvald palace guards – a tall man in a horned helmet who I took to be the leader of this little cohort.
Halt? Who is this man to tell ME what to do!? I thought, fighting the Stone Crown’s urges…
“Wait!” A new voice entered the courtyard, as the sound of wooden doors banging open was accompanied by the hurried stamp of many booted feet. The captain of the palace guards looked to see who had called the order, just as I did, and I heard a low gasp from the soldier at whom he saw.
“Make way for the king!” someone shouted, and I saw there was, spilling out into the courtyard, another group of palace guards, and at their head was a young man of about my age perhaps, dressed in cream tunics edged and banded with gold, and soft trews. The king of Torvald could be barely more than eighteen or twenty summers, I thought to myself. He was thin but with broad shoulders, but he didn’t have that filled-out solidity that made me think of soldiers and work. He had brown hair with a touch of red highlights, and his face, although grave and serious at the moment, didn’t strike me as angry.
“My Lord!” the captain of the guards said, suddenly falling to one knee as, like leaves of a tree touched by breeze, every other palace guard here did the same, except for those holding Tamin and the king’s personal guard.
I found myself standing by the forepaw of the mighty Ymmen, looking across the bobbed heads to where the king of the Middle Kingdom was regarding me with curiosity. I held his gaze with defiance. We Daza have no kings, I was thinking, and thought I saw a small flicker of a nod from the young monarch opposite me.
“All rise!” one of the king’s personal guards called out, and suddenly everyone was once again standing up and making room for their ruler to approach me.
“Careful, Sire—” one of the king’s guards said in a low whisper, making sure that she was between me and the ruler.
“Please, she is surrounded by the best trained soldiers in the entire Three Kingdoms!” I heard Torvald himself say with a little humor, stopping just a few meters in front of me. “And besides, if this young lady has come to kill me, then wouldn’t she still be astride her dragon?” I saw the king then turn his gaze to Ymmen, who was regarding Torvald intently with his red-gold eyes.
I watched as the ruler of the citadel and the Dragon Academy performed a deep bow before Ymmen. “Sir dragon,” he said, before even introducing himself to me, I noted! “I am Torvald. I am of the line of Saffron and Bower, of House Flamma and of House Torvald both. I extend my welcome to you, sir dragon – and hope that you will take your rest at the dragon crater…” he said lightly, although I could feel a thrum of tension from Ymmen’s thoughts.
“He speaks well,” Ymmen grudgingly agreed. “And he knows that I have to make my own greetings to the dragons of the sacred mountain, and it is not his place to accept me here.”
Not accept you!? I thought back in alarm. How could any other dragon not accept my powerful and courageous Ymmen?
“The time for questions is over, Little Sister. I will return when I can.” Ymmen took a deep, sooty breath that smelled like wood smoke and spiced with something fragrant like frankincense. He then leaned forward a little to drop his head in a deep bow, before rising slowly, taking a backward step, and shaking his body with a twitch. His scales made a sound like the hissing sighs of scratchy grasses, before he suddenly leapt into the skies, sending the watching blue squawking and flapping wildly, as he shot past his escort and to the dragon crater itself.
He could have done that at any moment, I thought proudly – but he had chosen to submit to these people and their dragons, all for the sake of our safety.
“He has gone to meet the other dragons?” the king said as he half-turned to follow Ymmen’s flight.
“He has,” I said, before remembering to add, “sir” at the end of it when the guard captain gave me a particularly annoyed glare.
An agreeing nod from the monarch, and then a softer, slightly sadder observation: “I am afraid that he will find the crater much diminished,” the king sighed, looking up at me and even offering a helpless sort of a shrug. “We have lost so many to the disappearance—”
“Sir!” The king was rudely interrupted by another man approaching us, and this time the gentleman I saw looked to be the sort of king that I had imagined would be ruling the most powerful kingdom in the world.
“Sven,” the king greeted the short, slightly barrel-shaped, confident-looking man who walked with slightly bowed legs. “This is Captain Sven Haval, my adviser and leader in all things military,” the king said.
And Captain Sven Haval certainly did look every bit the part, I thought. He was as short as me with that squat build that suggested many years out under cold stars and marching the unforgiving ground. Haval wore a deep red cloak, banded with the green and purple of their national flag, and a much sturdier and more sensible laced-up leather jerkin over a soft cream tunic. At his belt there was a scabbarded long sword, and his hair and beard were kept short, and were almost completely gray.
“My Lord, might I remind you of what we discussed earlier?” Sven came, bowlegged, straight up to us, not taking his eyes from me even as he talked to his king.
“I remember very well, Captain Haval,” Torvald said in a weary way. “But, what I see before me is a young woman who, despite the crown I can see on her head, looks like she barely has even any coin for new clothes were I to guess,” he said, as I felt my cheeks heat with shame. “I do not see a tyrant,” he ended on.
“Still, my lord – until we can question her…” Sven was saying. “It might be unwise to talk too freely…”
“Hm.” I saw a flicker of doubt scrunch up Torvald’s eyes, and I suddenly realized in that moment that, for all of his eloquence – the king was actually feeling very out of his depth, and he was using his court etiquette and finery as a mask to cover his inexperience. “You are right, as always, Sven.” The king nodded to the guards around us. “Please, escort this young lady and the others to my personal audience chamber,” he said, and the guards stepped immediately towards me, with ropes in their hands—
“But I see no need to restrain her,” Torvald turned back briefly to say pointedly at the various captains of his troupe, before already seeming to forget me as he walked back towards the palace doors at a brisk pace.
I was left feeling slightly, if not majorly, discombobulated by this entire experience. I was surrounded by some very well-built, and well-equipped, men and women in full plate armor. This King Torvald was almost nice, I thought as they urged me to pick up my feet and follow them. But he is still a king, and that makes everyone else around him his subjects…