2. Drakonis
2
DRAKONIS
My ally and comrade,
I ask that you watch my sister-in-law, Clara, as she travels to your country. I do not know the details, but she has declared an evil will be unleashed upon Ipeiros. Be cautious for I know she has been in communication with the Pythia. I am uneasy of those in the Ancient Isle.
As a brother, I ask that you protect Clara from Kazimir’s unscrupulous activities. My wife is already uneasy about this arrangement, but I have assured her you are quite capable.
As a King, I demand her protection is ensured so I don’t have to break the laws of our treaty. For, if she is harmed or threatened, the wrath of the skies and seas will be upon you.
Regards,
Ragnar Nordskov
D rakonis chuckled, leaning back in his chair, his thumb cradling his jaw and index finger touching his lips.
“This is risky, your highness,” Gavril said.
Drakonis looked up at his mentor. Years at war, and being the Emperor’s chancellor, had done a number on him over the years. Wrinkles gathered at the ends of his willow leaf eyes. He stood erect; his arms clasped behind his back. His black tawi wrapped tightly against his chest, like a robe, in front of his body. Embroidered golden vines brought out the red of his scales etched into the exposed skin of his pointed salt and peppered jaw. The squared shaped fit snugly around his rounded wide shoulder, falling loosely as it reached his wrists, and a side silk belt stressed his narrowed hips. As Drakonis had always remembered, his mentor had a sword strapped at his waist with other blades hidden along his body.
“Ragnar asks for little. If he has allowed his family to enter our territory, it must be serious.” Drakonis answered.
“When I told the emperor of your decision to allow her entry, he was displeased to say the least,” Gavril answered.
“And what is your opinion?” Drakonis asked.
His father, Emperor Konstantin, was always displeased. He was a strong warrior and a weak Emperor who caved to the nobles of court. Were it not for Gavril at his side, who knows how his father would be manipulated.
Gavril arched a thick gray brow, his lips pulling into a smirk.
“Before I answer, I must hear your thoughts, your highness.”
Drakonis bit the inside of his cheek. A powerful leader never asked others their thoughts without having a decision of their own. A complex lesson Gavril had taught him since he was a child.
“The Great War cost us must gold and resources. Our poor became desolate, and our greatest soldiers have returned with missing limbs and lack of sanity. If we were to announce another war, there would be riots. While my family believes that the gargoyles are our enemies, I believe they can be unimpeachable sources of information.” Drakonis paused.
His eyes roved the letter multiple times. This woman was his ally’s sister-in-law but was also in communication with the Pythia. A mysterious old woman who led the religious teachings of the Ancient Isle. A place where only the most pious lived and spoke to the gods. The treacherous gods who both created and condemned his people. A place where both gargoyle and dragon avoided, and where it was rumored the unhinged sorcerer Vespasian gained the most power.
“If I am to watch this woman, I could gain information about the gargoyles and the pious ones. There is no reason for those of the Isle to interfere with those outside their realm,” Drakonis said.
“King Nordskov has that blasted fire demon at his side,” Gavril answered. “He is mad from what I hear, but he has connections in the most…interesting places.”
Nero Rasmussen. Drakonis met him on the battlefield. He was Ragnar’s right hand and shadow. If Ragnar commanded it, the man would scour villages, burning them so the earth would never grow back.
“Ragnar would not have his sister at his meetings, but he includes his new wife. It is possible that his new queen would share anything of importance with her family.”
Gavril smiled.
“I have taught you well.” Drakonis returned the smile. While Kazimir, his youngest brother, chased skirts, Drakonis had buried his nose in scrolls and texts. Politics, while tedious, were necessary for the survival of his family’s line.
“What have you learned about the new queen?” Drakonis asked.
“Queen Nordskov, formally known as Elisora Katsaros, was born in a city-state of the southern kingdom but later became the adopted daughter of Oceanus’s sea king.”
With her type of influence, Ragnar would have the power of the seas and skies.
“I could unearth little of her past, except a dark sorcerer eradicated her birthplace while we were fighting the tail end of the Great War. There have been stories from the north she is a slayer of hydras and Minotaurs.”
Drakonis chuckled. “You believe such outlandish stories?”
Gavril looked serious as he continued. “There were too many aligning stories. I believed those creatures destroyed by Zeus, but if dark sorcerers were involved, then it could be possible.”
“If Queen Nordskov is such a woman, it is no wonder Ragnar would marry her.” Drakonis mused.
“Indeed,” Gavril answered. “But I have heard no such stories about this sister of hers. The only sure thing I could confirm is that she is a seer.”
“I wonder what this mission of hers is.” Drakonis tossed the scroll on his desk, rubbing his chin as he looked around the office.
“I wonder that myself,” Gavril pondered aloud. “But I agree it would be good to host her. If we gauge the reason for her travels, and who she is in communication with, we can skew any information she passes along.”
“While Ragnar is our ally, I would like to keep his information limited to the spies that lie among us.”
Just as Drakonis was gaining value from his spies in Herrlof.
“We must make his princess feel as welcome as possible,” Gavril declared.
“You think I would let a woman be uncomfortable here?” Drakonis asked.
“I suspect Kazimir will do a right job at that.” Gavril’s ashy brows furrowed. “Foolish boy will stick his cock in any woman with two legs and weak to a sonnet. This is one woman who cannot fall to his charms. Therefore, you will use yours to make sure she remains on our side.”
“What is the plan?” Drakonis asked.
“You will be the prince I know you can be. Treat her kindly and accommodate any reasonable request she has. For when she is comfortable with you, she will share. Invite her to festivities we have. I believe that the Dawning Festival will be here during her stay.”
Drakonis rolled his eyes. A festival that celebrated a dragon’s awakening and victory over gods and their enemies. A time that was a dream for everyone but a prince like him, for it served as a competition between he and Kazimir to prove to the court who was more fit to be the Crown Prince.
Drakonis sat up as Gavril slapped him behind the head.
“Do not be disrespectful boy. If you can forge an alliance with the sea kingdom along with the gargoyles, it would cement your standing as the next emperor.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
A stirring in his chest made him close his eyes. His inner dragon had been quiet as of late, but recent dreams had been haunting him. Flashes of an ancient city of cobalt, copper, and pearl dripping in blood played against the darkness. A faint wordless song ran through his ears between wake and sleep. It was ominous.
“Is something bothering you?” Gavril asked.
Drakonis shook his head. He never went to Gavril unless he had all the facts. Something pulled him deep into the woods, but Drakonis’s duty kept him in the castle. If he was ever in the woods, it was not far. Never far enough to go near the Ruins… the first settlement of his people. A dreadful place that changed his life for the worse.
“So I ‘ear that we are gettin’ a visitor.”
The double doors were slammed open and followed by a boisterous voice. Alastair came in looking like he had just had a romp, his jet-black hair was stuck out around his crown, a dark blue kymu falling to his hips, half opened to show his chest, and the square sleeves cut off at his biceps. A jeweled broach held a cape at his shoulder and fluttered around him as he collapsed in a chair in front of the desk. His bright blue scales gleamed as he smiled, displaying his sharp canines.
A true friend that was Drakonis’s opposite in every way. Set to inherit the grand dukedom, only the royal family outranked him. Many in court despised him for his straightforward manner but Drakonis found him refreshing. Alastair never minced words and told Drakonis what he needed instead of what he wanted. If any challenged Drakonis’s word, Alastair would challenge them to the sword. If Drakonis doubted himself, or struggled, Alastair would quite literally beat it out of him.
“Must you be so uncouth?” Gavril sighed.
Alastair and Drakonis met eyes. One of Alastair’s charms was that he acted like he wished no matter who he was speaking to. Many of the court’s elders scolded him since he had yet to inherit his title of duke. Thanks to a scandalous reputation and the familial ties, they backed down, retreating to the shadows to lick their courtly wounds.
“You will drive ‘urself to an early grave if you do not loosen up Gavril,” Alasair said.
“Forgive me. Having responsibility keeps me from having such a privilege.” Gavril’s tone was dry. Alastair was an acquired taste. Drakonis chuckled behind the back of his hand. Gavril was severe but had a soft spot for Alastair. He was a political mess, but Drakonis’s ally. And it helped that he was godlike when he swung his sword on the battlefield.
“It’s not like you’re teaching both princes now. Kazimir got ‘imself a new ally in Valen Zenos.”
Valen. A name that made Drakonis growl. He was a selfish marquis obsessed with power. And his path to power was through an easy, woman loving, prince.
“Kazimir is smarter than you think,” Drakonis said. “He likes to play a fool, but he is far from one.”
Gavril nodded in agreement. “Indeed. It is likely that Kazimir is playing Valen and he doesn’t even realize it.”
“Or he realizes it and plays along as long as their goals align,” Drakonis added.
Alastair let out a loud sigh. “If I thought I was coming into such a boring conversation, then I would have waited.”
“Forgive us,” Gavril’s face darkened as he used his diplomatic smile. The one that he showed his enemies before he incinerated all arguments and made one feel small and lame. “I forget you do not see the importance in Drakonis being chosen as the Crown Prince.”
Alastair crossed his arms. “There is no question Ouroboros needs my buddy to be the future emperor. Kazimir would have us facing a war on at least three fronts if the emperor selects him.”
Alastair’s speech became more formal, shocking both himself and Gavril. As the last word left his lips, Alastair leaned forward looking round eyed like a noblewoman eager for gossip.
“I wish to ‘ear about tha princess that is comin’. I heard Kazimir is searching for a portrait. Did ya get one?”
“I know nothing about her looks,” Drakonis answered. “But she’s Ragnar sister-in-law.”
“So, she will have wings and horns?” His nose crinkled at the thought. For dragons, horns and wings in a humanoid form showed inferiority. Dragons were born as a mutation of gargoyles but had evolved to refined beings with scales that glittered like jewels etched into their skin.
“She’s human. I believe.” Drakonis looked towards Gavril. He shrugged. “She has been living beneath the sea from the reports we got.”
“Do we know for sure if she is human or merwoman?” Alastair asked.
Silence hung in the air. The thought intrigued him. He had never seen a mermaid. Dragons kept away from the water since many could not swim. But he had read that they were beautiful and deadly creatures. They would enchant you with their beautiful face and naked breasts, sometimes singing to muddle one’s thoughts. Before the poor fool knew it, they were pulled into their watery grave.
“She couldn’t be a mermaid if she’s walkin’ on land, right?” Alastair questioned again.
After a long pause, Gavril answered.
“I think it would be best if you avoided the coast while she is here.”
Both men nodded, still questioning if this anticipated guest would soon swim through their doors.