A Dragon Rebellion: the King of Vakor

We lived in a time when the world was dividing.... The Nine Kingdoms had spent centuries in peace.... no major conflicts of any kind..... the Continent prospered under the rule of the Draco High Kings.

Yet that bloodline had been dying.... The King had no children of his own, his wife had four sons.... none of them the kings....and with the king close to the end of his life.... the throne was open for one willing to take it.....

After many years the continent stood on the brink of destruction.... Elves had begun an insurgency.... the Orcs and Goblins were close to rising up... and the Dwarves had shut their doors.

But one man would change that.... he was the greatest man I have ever seen....I would fight for him... alongside him.... I would love him and hate him as a brother would..... brilliant, cunning, honorable, respectful and when necessary Brutal.....

He would bring the old world to its knees.....his name....

AVOS THE DRAGON....


Chapter 1: Time of Change

The King was dead, Acroll Draco, High king of the United Kingdom had died in his sleep, it was a sad day for the kingdom, as many respected his rule. Under his rule there had been a time of prosperity, peace and equality, so successful was his reign that the world had dubbed him Acroll the Kind.

With his death though things were oh so much more difficult, the King had died without a true heir. His wife the Queen Rosyeln of house Griffin had four sons from a previous marriage, and none from the king, without an heir to take the crown, the Queen was quick to act and took it for herself, becoming High Queen regent, becoming a steward, a care taker of the throne until her eldest son came of age.

Many were against her, she had no real right to take the throne, for although the King did not have a rightful heir, he did have an illegitimate son Avos. many believed the King legitimized his bastard born son before his death, thus making Avos Dracko (His Bastard born name) now of House Draco and the rightful heir.

Yet the son was far away, towards the north, under the fostering of Lord Marcus Bearin High lord of the Great North, decedent of the Northern Kings. And already the young man no more than on his Seventieth year of his life. With his dark brown hair pulled back into a wolfs tail bobble, he had begun to show a nack for leadership, courage, honor and respect, having successfully defeated a group of racial bandits who had been raiding the small villages of the Orcs and Goblins as well as murdering Elves who cross their path.

Avos had convinced the ordinary peasantry to rise up against the bandits and brought their leader to face the high lords justice.

Yet Avos was not the only young one that Lord Bearin had raised, he had children of his own, two sons Robert and Hector as well as a daughter Miranda. All of them had their fathers bearings, with the dark black hair of their house and the distinct green colour of their eyes. The two boys were tough to the very core, often calling themselves the toughest fighters in the North. Yet Avos although not looked at kindly always would state "And how many scars do you have from your epic battles".
And so they were practicing in the Courtyard.

with the great stone walls standing tall, despite their age the ancient fortress of Bear point had stood for over 3,000 years. in the middle of the ring of wooden fences was Avos and Robert the Eldest. above the sounds of metal colliding, there was the rush and brush of the ocean slamming against the nearby docks and wharf's,, that gave the town and Fortress its main source of trade.

Robert had a kind entitlement, believing that he was born to rule, and will one day be the greatest lord in the north. Many knew him for his honorable soul, so honorable that sometimes it got him into trouble, like when he allowed a group of bandits to retreat instead of chasing them down and capturing them. He wielded his great Bastard sword, almost as high as his ribs. its handle was painted in gold yet the blade showed very little wear, some would say that the blade had never been used.

Avos on the other hand was very different, unlike his foster fathers son, who lead troops in true lord fashion, wearing tough armor riding a great war horse, Avos lead by example. Fighting alongside soldiers and peasants as if they were equals, Equality was Avos' greatest belief, that all were the same. whether they were human or not. He had no quarrel fighting alongside other races and even praised them openly. He didn't even like lording over people, even though High Lord Marcus Bearin had given him a room in the castle, he preferred a small cottage in the town. Many say that Avos was more like a Mercenary than a Bastard lord, due to the manner in which he lived, he preferred not to wear the fashion of higher society, instead he wore simple cloth shirts and trousers, the only thing he wore that was made for the rich was his leather boots.

In the ring the difference between the two was even more clear, Robert had his his great sword for heavy blows, but Avos had a simple sword that was short for a single handed fighter, that would mostly be used by a peasant or Mercenary, better suited for quick strikes.

Robert brought down a heavy blow from above, it was slow and very clear, Avos swiftly moved aside allowing the massive blade to strike the cold soil. and while Robert tried to pull his sword up, Avos rapidly placed his smaller swords tip upon the back of Roberts neck, and stated "Well...your dead".
Robert dropped his sword and turned to his fostered friend, smiled and embraced him, the two were not like rivals, despite their differences, the two had been raised alongside each other, in their minds. They may not share blood, but they shared a bond of brothers.

High above them as they practiced, watching them from his bedroom balcony was Lord Marcus Bearin. the High Lord, Protector and Governor of the Kingdom of the North. He was old, nearing his fifties with a grayish beard and hair, his green eyes had seen much. for during his life he had seen many things, death, pain, destruction. Most with the petty squabbles between the United Kingdom and the City states in the east.

then from no where a voice "my Lord" it went.

Marcus turned slowly to see his steward, Stephan. Stephan was far older than Marcus closer to his eighties, and his age was very clear. White hair and beard, wrinkled skin and slow movement "A Carrier pigeon arrived from the Capital my lord"

Slowly Stephan offered a small roll of paper, already opened and read, Marcus took it already guessing what it was "My lord I'm sorry, but the king is dead, the Queen has become regent and is demanding you to declare your continued loyalty to the crown"

Marcus did not even read the parchment he just returned to balcony and looked down to see his eldest son still lose to the Bastard that he had fostered, by orders of the King no less. For he knew that if the Queen took the throne then Avos was a threat to her right as Queen. Avos may have been a Bastard but he was still the Kings son.

The first thought that came to his mind was a memory, the memory of the day that his old friend the King had given Avos to him to be raised and cared for like he was his own son. Marcus had promised the King that he would by his honor protect Avos no matter the cost, claiming that he was the key to the future of the realm.

Turning back to his steward he muttered a simple sentence "Call my children here".
Stephan bowed his head and quickly went in search of the three children.

Chapter 2: The time to flee

Avos lay there in his simple bed, nothing special about it, no feathers inside, a single pillow and a single quilt. When ever so silently a hand came to his mouth, gripping it hard, his eyes shot open faster than light itself, he struggled attempting to find a way to break free of his attacker.
When from the darkness his attacker revealed himself, Robert Bearin, the same young man whom Avos had been raised with. Ceasing his struggle, Robert removed his hand from his brothers mouth and began to whisper "Gather your essentials... we need to go".

Avos could hear the urgency of his brothers order, from what he was wearing, light leather armor to reduce sound and a single simple sword. Which was odd for Robert, he always took his great sword and never liked to use those that were smaller.

Avos grabbed items of clothing, threw them into a simple rugged bag, tossed it over his shoulder and grabbed his many weapons, a dagger strapped to his lower right leg, a series of small throwing knives strapped to his belt and of course his simple straight steel sword which many called a Schianova. Although the handle and hand-guard were decorative, the blade itself was nothing special.
With all his belongings collected Robert lead the way, through the empty cottage to the door, slowly opening it Robert peeked out looking left and right to see "cost is clear" he whispered.
Avos needed answers however "What the hell is going on?" he asked

the first reply was a simple hush for silence, Robert slowly made his way out of the door and into the dark streets of the Town, the only light coming from the fiery torches scattered across the towns many streets and alleys.

slowly they made their way to the docks, "Robert please what is going on?" he asked again
Finally he got his answer "Your father is dead.." Avos was shocked, he had never knew his father, he understood he was a bastard born son of the king, but the only father figure he had was Lord Marcus Bearin, Roberts father. Yet there was more to come "the Queen has taken the thrown and demanded that father hand you over... which is why we are getting you out now"

Avos pondered "We?"

"Father, Hector and Miranda as well as myself have organized to get you to the east... your not safe here... not with the queen" Robert Answered "For as long as you are alive, people will see you as the rightful heir"

Avos hesitated "but Your father... you... will be executed for treason"

"Father only asked us to organize it, while he rides south to bend the knee" he paused leaning against the wall of a old shop hidden in the shadows "Now do you see that alley way there" he pointed out across the market, to which Avos nodded "Hector will meet you somewhere there, he will get you to Miranda and she'll take you to the boat"

To which he turned walked by Avos almost in a hurry "So this is goodbye then" Avos whispered, Robert paused turned back and the two brothers of bond embraced each other one last time.
"For now Brother.. now go" Robert whispered into his ear, before releasing himself and quietly jogging down the alley that had just come from. Avos watched him disappear into darkness before checking the market and sprinting as quickly and quietly as he could to the dark alley.

He succeeded without being seen, despite the market being empty, he was taking no chances. he turned slowly to the alley, and slowly paced his way inside to see a young 14 year old boy in a dark black hood and cloak "Hector" he whispered.

The hooded boy turned, and Avos blew a sigh of relief, it was Hector Roberts younger brother. Hector was tough like Robert, but preferred reading to make his mind tough, waving his hand beckoning Avos to follow, he sped down through the alleys, avoiding the areas lit up by the torches.

Avos followed close behind, until finally they could see the giant archway that marked the beginnings of the Dock and hidden in its shadow was another hooded and cloaked individual but of a more feminine appearance in the way she stood. Avos looked to Hector placing his left hand onto hectors right shoulder, he whispered "Farewell Hector".

Hector gave a small sniff, he was upset that he was saying farewell to a brother, quickly grabbing Avos he hugged him tightly, his head pushed into Avos' chest. before he himself let go and ran off into the darkness.

Avos himself was now feeling the pressure of having to say goodbye, looking up upon the hill was the great fortress which he had grown up in, trained in, lived in. And now he was having to start a new life, and allow those he loves to place themselves at risk all because of his blood.

Trying to remove the thought from his mind was hard, it was only when someone grabbed his left arm and pulled did he finally return to the world around him. Looking to the person pulling him, he knew straight away from the hair bobble hanging in front of her hood, it was Miranda, the second child and only Daughter of Marcus Bearin, only a year younger than Avos himself was.

Her face was somewhat different of that of her brothers, she had slightly plump cheeks and her chin was not as clear being much smoother.  she pulled him towards the docks, knowing time was of the essence, she was the last part of the plan, yet Avos still needed answers "Where am I to go" he asked "Miranda".

"Ssh" came the reply as she slowed down, to be more careful on the rickety old dock wharf's and walkways. "We have a friend in the East" she said "He will take you on in his private guard.... the Queen won't risk open war with the City states over one Bastard"

Slowly they made their way past empty ships of all sizes, but finally came to one with activity, the sails were all crumbled up yet Avos could just make out a golden shield with red roses, the emblem and crest of House Caragi, one of the leading houses in the Republic of Niccolo.

The ship was very large, a somewhat mix of war galleon and trading ship, with sails that were large facing forwards and those that would open sideways. the gang plank came forward with a rough looking mercenary captain standing its bottom, he was heavily armored with a war hammer strapped to his leather belt.

Miranda brought Avos forward "This is Avos Dracko, captain, please take care of him"
The Captain bowed his head "You will have nothing to fear Madonna, Avos here will be treated equally during our journey and when we get home"

Miranda smiled and bowed her head in reply, slowly turning to Avos, she couldn't help herself she had to speak the truth "Since your leaving... well i thinks its time that i got it out" she paused, thinking Avos would ask why, yet he didn't "I've... um... uh.... had a um"

"This isn't goodbye little sister... not by a long shot" Avos interrupted, Miranda was surprised
Miranda chuckled, he was right, they will meet again, "well get going then... and no matter what don't forget us"

Avos bowed his head "Promise me...that if the Queen does try something.... or threaten you that you give me up.... i won't let anyone die for me".

Miranda started to feel a tear run down her cheek, she swiped it aside and quickly gave Avos a slight kiss on his left cheek before running off back to the Fortress. Avos slowly got on board the ship and was soon underway for the City of Niccolo.

The Last thing he saw of the west before it faded into the distance was the great fortress of House Bearin, all Avos could think of was that those he could his family may have just started  war by saving his life.

Slowly his eyes saw smoke and the light of a great fire glowing in the night sky, the winds whistling was only overcome by the bellowing bangs of the fortress bells. He could only guess that someone had set his cottage alight, who it was, that was the question, Robert to hide the fact he had gone or an assassin from the queen.

Chapter 3: The North divided

8 years have passed since the Departure of Avos Dracko,  bastard born son of the old king, since his disappearance only stories and rumors follow his activities in the east. The Royals like to think that he is long dead, killed by the Half breeds in the east, the Queen mother most of all. But others mostly that knew him most want to believe that he is still in hiding, somewhere in the world, keeping his head down and avoiding attention.

Whilst nothing is known of Avos, the Kingdom of the North had changed dramatically, since aiding the escape of a so called bastard born traitor, the North is no longer ruled by House Bearin, with Marcus the foster father of Avos being executed for treason. And the rule of the North being given to the more Royalist House Crow, despite this however Robert refused to give in, rallying those loyal to his family into a rebellion. To prevent others from joining him, house Crow took  Miranda Bearin hostage. And so the Civil war in the North continues with the Royalists defeating the Bearins minor army with overwhelming force with every engagement.

Yet this would not last forever.

In the mixed darkness and light of the deep forest, the wind whistling through the trees' branches and leaves. The trickling of a nearby stream mixed with the tweeting and whistling of the summer visiting swallows and other birds nesting.

Then from no where a young woman came running, trying to avoid the bushes and thick brush as she made her way through the empty forest. Behind her were soldiers running close behind, trying desperately to catch her and bring her back to their lord. She ran as fast her silken dark black dress would allow her, the skin of her legs were covered by tight legins to help keep her warm.
And so they ran in parallel to the gentle stream, when as they ran the young woman tripped and fell into the thick bushes, she pushed and pulled herself trying to desperately regain her footing to continue her escape attempt.

Yet it was fruitless, as the soldiers were quickly on her, grabbing her flaying, swinging, thrashing arms and legs, pulling her away from the bushes into the relative open space between the trees.
"Sorry love..." One soldier stated under his exhausted breath "But your not going any where this time", she screamed at the height of her voice, still attempting to escape, thrashing and kicking her feet outwards at any close enough to strike.

When almost as if by magic, one of the soldier fell to the ground, the others pondered until they saw the reason, for embedded in the soldiers back, digging deep into his brown leather armor, was an crossbow bolt.

They pulled their swords, and began coming the forest with their eyes, yet nothing there was no one out their. "where the hell is he?" one shouted.

"Can't see a bloody thing" one replied

A grunt came, they turned to see another of their company fall to the ground, this time with an bolt piercing through his throat, they tried again to see where the archer was, and yet again nothing, there was no one in the forest. The trees were becoming ever quiet, the swallows and birds above and fallen silent, only the streams trickling water was all that producing a sound .
they span around continuously looking this way and that, hoping to see who was out there.

Then there he was, a man clad in dark black leather armor, a dark black hood and cloth covering his mouth and nose. Denying any chance to see his face even the skin around his eyes had been painted black, showing the whites of his eyes much more, before they could act though he was amongst them, wielding a short Curved sword, the same length as his arm, they attempted to fight yet to no avail, they swung and thrust their blades in his direction yet nothing happened, he either blocked, countered or dodge every attempt they sent his way.

And with every second more and more fell to the ground, until only one was left, seeing that he had no chance, he tried to run. Sprinting in the direction of the stream, leaping over the small expanse of water, he turned to see if the attacker had given chase, but no the mysterious attacker just stood there on opposite side of the stream.

"What afraid of a little water?" he boasted

The attacker just started to turn saying "no... I just know that a Royalist shouldn't cross into their territory"

The soldier wondered, pondering what this unknown figure meant "Whose territory?", he would have said more but unfortunately a small growl began to echo out from behind him.

"Theirs" the figure stated in a calm manner pulling piece of cloth then slowly rubbing along his blade. The soldier turned to see two large dark black wolves growling in his direction, their teeth and canines bare for all to see. He soon realized his mistake he had inadvertently entered the territory of one of the Lycanthroat tribes, and he was right to be scared, werewolves don't just turn to wolves but large wolves, the same size and strength as a small horse.As the figure walked off, the sound of the stream became filtered out by the extreme roars, growls of the werewolves and the incessant screams of the one soldier to escape.

Ignoring the screams the figure just walked on, seeing one of the soldiers was still partially alive, waving his right hand in his direction before clenching his fist, the young woman could only watch as a long tree branch shot down, rapping around the soldiers throat before lifting him straight into the air. She watched as he was hung up by the tree branch just by his throat, only the twitching of his feet and hands were the remnants of life.

Yet her unknown figure continue to walk off, as if he had done nothing wrong, nor care about his actions. she pulled herself to he feet and ran after him.

"WAIT" she shouted

Chapter 4: a Friend in a Mercenary

"Please" she shouted again "Please help me"

She quickly closed the distance with her mystery savior "Please, I need your help to find my family.... My name is.."

"I know whom your family is Miranda Bearin" he Interrupted
she could not believe it "how did you.."

"The locket around your neck, has the Bearin family crest on it" he interrupted a second time "your brother Robert can be found with his army, further to the north west"

The two just kept walking, "why are you following me?" he asked

"Safety" she replied "I have a better chance of seeing my family again, if i stay with you"

He just scoffed, he had killed almost 8 soldiers from House Crow, and she thinks its safer to stay with him. "Trust me, it is not.... wherever i go death follows" he stated. Yet she continued to follow him, why?, why was she so determined to follow.

This would have to wait, for soon they came across a small camp, very simple in its structure, a single makeshift tent made from, linking cloth with standing polls to hold up a simple roof. A small fire pit, with a very small fire still crackling away surrounding it were a series of rocks to keep the fire from spreading, surrounding them were small logs and rocks for sitting on or leaning against, across from the fire was a horse, a stallion light clay like brown in colour, he had nothing on him, only a loose rope around his head to keep him from wandering off in the night. Lying close to the tent were a set of packs, weapons and other items, such as the horses saddle.

Her savior took a seat on one of the logs and began throwing more pieces of twigs and branches onto the fire. after that he raised his right hand, clicking his fingers, before tossing the tiniest flame into the embers, this made the fire erupt back into life, producing light and  heat as the night quickly began to cover the forest.

Miranda slowly began to follow taking her seat just on the opposite side of the fire, watching her savior every move as he reached into his bags and pulled a small metal tin and a few slithers of meat possibly pork. he tossed the pieces into the tin and slowly placed the tin onto the fire. He did so with no care to his own safety, he acted as if the fires wouldn't hurt his hands.

Yet he did so, placed it and then returned to his pack, pulling a small water sack, pouring ever so carefully some into the tin. allowing the meat and water together to boil in the heat of the fire.
Finally Miranda asked what had been bothering her, "Who are you?"

He did not take his eyes away from the tin for a second, "In the East, the Half Breeds called me Firelan Blen" he paused for a second, "It means Blood of fire, it in turns means one who cannot be burned"

Her interest Peaked "You know magic?... how is it you don't speak the words that make the spells?"
Finally he returned her gaze, "There are two kinds of people, those who must learn how to harness magic, must be able to understand it, must understand the words before even casting a spell" he paused to check the boiling water and meat, "And those like me, who are born with it... they do not have to learn it because its already within their blood even their soul"

She sat there in shock, she thought she understood the world, but it seems that she knows very little. She opened her mouth too speak, but before she could, he raised a finger, telling her to wait. He reached into the fire, pulling the small metal cup from the heat of the flames, yet again she was astounded, he cared little about the fire. He showed no pain what so ever "Are you hungry" he asked, she simply nodded her head, from his pack he pulled a roll of cloth, within it was some kind of plant leaves all cut up into tiny pieces. He sprinkled them into the cup, rapped the cloth around the base, and then waved his hand over the hot water, meat and leaf cuts within it.  He slowly offered it to her "it will help regain your strength"

She took the cup and felt the heat coming from it, she was amazed at how he could have ignored it. She could feel her hand burning  through the cloth rapped around it, he had grabbed it while it was within the fire. She carefully brought the rim to her lips and took a long sip of the soup, she felt the small slivers of meat drop onto her tongue, the leaf pieces felt strange as she swallowed her first sip.
But strangely he was correct, she could feel her strength coming back, she felt like she hadn't been running at all, or force marched herself through the forest. What made her refocus was the realisation of her wet dress, sticking to her leggins. The stranger rose up, walked around the fire pulling a knife from his belt, she pulled back slightly fearing what was to happen, yet he knelt down, took the knife to her lower dress and ripped the skirt shorter so it only came to her knees. "Should be able to move much easier now" he stated standing up again, "You can use my tent, get some sleep"

"What about you?" Miranda asked, he just sat down upon his log, reaching into his pack and pulling forth a book of some kind. She heeded the lack of an answer, and made her way into the makeshift tent, that held little more than a collection cloth sheets across the floor to make up a bed.

As the night dragged on, Miranda found she could not sleep, she was curious, anxious even to find out more of this stranger whom had saved her life, shared his food provided safety as well as giving her his tent.

Finally she decided she had enough she needed to know. Scoffing her breath she pulled back the covers of fur and cloth, crawled to the opening of the tent to see he had not moved, her savior was still there reading his book in the light of the fire, his hood still raised, face covered by the black cloth.

"Can't sleep" he asked She paused for a moment, wondering how he could have known she was still awake and how he knew she was looking at him, "If your wondering, How I knew your were there, thank my horse, you caught his attention"

She looked over and found he was right, the horse was watching her from across the fire, he must have caught his horse change priorities from eating grass to looking at her. "I wanted to ask you some questions, if its alright"

He huffed his breath, closed his book and then waved his hand for her to take a seat, she took the invitation. Coming out of the makeshift tent, walking around the fire and retaking her seat across from his with the fire in between them.

"What is it you want to ask?" he closely demanded

She stuttered for a second "You talked about Magic, about how there are two kinds of users.... well how does magic work?... do you just need the spells?"

The stranger pondered his answer for there is much to know about magic and the rules that follow them, "For starters Magic isn't just words, Magic has rules" he paused to catch his breath for there was a lot to say, as he spoke he used his hands to help explain it. "there is a cost.... when one uses magic there is an effect, a simple spell like lighting a fire or the simplest healing spells are cost less, but others spells will make you feel weak, slightly dazed.... other spells will render you unconscious....." He took another breath "And other spells..... if used before the body and soul are ready will kill"

She had no idea that magic is so costly, she knew magic was powerful and  took many years to master, but never had she heard about the rules surrounding them. "Where are you from, your accent sounds familiar?" she questioned

His answer was quick and to the point "From here, I was raised in the north for many years,but then the Queen came along and I had to flee.... been in the east for several years working as a mercenary" He took a moment to catch his breath before continuing his story "Its where I got this" he pulled his curved sword from its sheath, " was given to me by a Satyr I fought alongside, before he died he gave me his sword, that I might fight with the Spirits of the forest protecting me"

They talked into the night, of how he had only just returned to the west after spending well over 7-8 years in the east. Of how surprised he is of how divided the kingdoms and races were, he described how he saw the world when he left, a united country where 9 kingdoms stood together and the 5 races looked to each other equally, none were looked down upon as different. But now he saw how the 9 had become so badly divided that it could be said they weren't united under one King, of how the 5 races were so badly divided, that Elves were treated like slaves, the Dwarves had closed their gates to outsiders and of how the Orcs and goblins were preferring to run and hide rather than defend their ancestral homes.

She suddenly remembered something, or someone of great importance, "Do yo know of someone called Avos Dracko, he had to live in the east... last I heard he too was a mercenary?"

The stranger just looked to her, his pale white eyes clear through the flicks of the fire "I knew him.... preferred to be called Avos though.... served in Dragons company before it was disbanded"

"And now?" she begged, yet to no reply, the stranger calling himself Firelan just shrugged, she understood the message straight away.

"Get some rest... I will take you too your brother tomorrow" He stated returning to his book. And she was quick to understand the time for talk had past, once again she attempted to sleep in the simplicity of the tent.

Chapter 5: Had to be Orcs

By the time the sun was rising, Miranda opened her eyes slowly feeling the remnants of her dress now becoming slowly dry. She slowly pulled herself up to peak through the open slit of the tent, yet she saw no one.

She pulled herself out and before she could even react, the tent came tumbling down, with her savior standing over it. "Come on" he said "We have a lot of ground to cover.... if you want to find you brother"

She instantly heard those words and readied herself "Can I help pack up?" she asked, Firelan just pointed towards his horse, she looked and saw why for he had already packed most of the camp, his horse had its saddle strapped and bags of belongings alongside his different weapons roped to the different packs.

When she looked back, the tent was already packed up and the cloth she had slept on were now being used to keep it strapped together. She was amazed with his speed, because by the time she had truly woken up from her sleep he was set and ready to go.

He grabbed the reins of his horse and began to lead it away from the camp, gesturing to follow. She did carefully, her upbringing telling her to avoid certain paths, whilst he just simply pushed forward through the mud and the toughest branches, meanwhile she maneuvered her way around or under.
For hours they pushed on, she even thought "Is he taking me through the toughest route through the forest". Yet she did not protest, no she just pushed on as best she could. At least until the path became clearer and clearer, so clear in fact that  she could in fact move forward to the point that she could walk alongside Firelan.

But then he suddenly paused at a small clearing, the space was open and clear , safe even. He was frozen, stiff, his eyes the only part of his face visible locked into place. "Don't move" he ordered.
She looked right to him, he just simply looked down, with his eyes. She carefully looked down to their feet and saw the answer. A small noose buried in amongst the leaves, "I want you to slowly step away, in case it sends me flying" he told her, in a whispered voice.

Every step she took, she took carefully, barely ever moving a muscle without watching the leaves and the noose. Yet then, SNAP!.

The rope went tight and the loose pulled up the both of them, they ended up hanging up by their ankles. "Well what do we do?" she asked

Firelan merely scoffed, and then groaned "In the name of all that is living"

"What?" she asked again, slowly turning to making the rope spin, slowly to see a collection of warriors, 3 orcs and 2 Goblins. All of them wearing a mixtures of armors, the Orcs only wearing armor on their forearms, Shin plates and heads in the from of a crested helmet that ended with a strong point above the forehead, allowing the helmet to be used as a weapon as well. The Helmets also had strong nose guards and cheek guards, yet the method of the helmets build was done with a single piece of metal, instead of many small pieces. (think Ancient Greek helmets) Around their wastes were loose leather shorts with thin strips of leather hanging from the belt.

"Had to be you slimy fuckers!" Firelan shouted

The leader, the clearly the strongest and oldest of the Orcs stepped forward wielding a dual handed war hammer. His face broken and covered in Scars his left eye was covered by a simple eye patch, with a scar going into from above and then out of the eye patch below, clearly a war-band leader, yet Firelan knew him, so obviously a mercenary.

"Mattrox" He stated, "You bloody big fucking Orc"

"Not the kind of thing you say to a friend" Mattrox stated "Take everything he has"

"Oh Yeah.... deja vu... leave me with the trouble and watching your fat ass running away with everything I own" Firelan shouted

Slowly Mattrox, slowly became around to look upon Miranda, "Whose the girl?"
"I am not a girl.... my name is Miranda of House Bearin..... And I am sure my brother is willing to pay you handsomely for my return" Miranda shouted.

The orcs and goblins began to look upon each other, Mattrox came back around, kneeling down to one of the goblins "Melix does she speak the truth?"

A goblin stepped forward using a branch to guide him forward, removing his beaked helmet he showed himself to be blind, his eyes were blank, no colour just plain white and a hint of grey where his pupil would have been "She does, she is of the Bear, and he is of the Dragon.... they are both destined for greatness" They all looked to each other "I see a crown Forged in iron"

Again they looked to each other, for those words that had not been used in generations, then Firelan groaned because he knew what was coming, a second snap came and the two of them fell hard.

As she tried to regain her senses, an open hand came down from above, she looks up to see a tall Orcish warrior wielding a huge dual handed axe in his left hand, and his open right to her. Carefully she placed her left hand fingers into its grasp and then felt the sudden tug of the warrior pulling her up.

She smiled giving a small nod as a way of thanking the warrior, she turned to she the mercenary Firelan pull himself up. "really.... I've known you for years and yet you still steal from me"

Mattrox just scoffed "Your kind have stolen many things from us" he muttered "Its seems only fair we take back something" he soon turned away and stared Miranda directly in the eyes, "If you go to your brother, you will both die.... he is currently under siege two miles west of here"

He said these words carefully and cautiously almost as if he was suggesting they shouldn't go, yet he was not finished "Your brothers rebellion does not stand a chance...."
"Why?" she was quick to ask

The answer didn't come from Mattrox however, no it came from her Mercenary savior "Because the noble houses of the North won't back him, a few minor houses have, but without the support of the great ones, he will be slotted"

She turned away in a second and began to frog march back into the forest heading west, they all knew that she was going to help her brother, Firelan sighed, grabbing his horse again he hopped up onto the saddle "Will you help us?" he asked Mattrox

"This is not our war... old friend.." he muttered "Does she know who you really are?" Firelan shook his head.

"Its safer if no one knows" the reply came

"For her or for you?" Mattrox questioned

A small whisper came as the reply "For everyone" Firelan then shook the reins of his horse hard, ordering the brown stallion to begin its gallop, leaning forwards he reached down with his left hand, for as he passed Miranda he grabbed hold of her. Heaving her onto the back of the horse whilst at full gallop not once slowing its speed, the moved swiftly through the trees and bushes.

Chapter 6: A Bear on the run

For hours the horse moved with the fleetest of hooves, not once ceasing it gallop or slowing its pace. Until suddenly Firelan pulled hard on the reins, the horse was quick to slow its pace and finally come to a sudden stop, Firelan looked this way and that looking around the empty forest, Miranda curious over why they had stopped soon found the answer travelling with the wind. For travelling with its whistle was the distinct shouts and screams of people, with them were the obvious metallic clashing of swords.

Fireland pulled the reins left, carefully coming from the forest , they found themselves atop a small hill overlooking the battlefield. The battle was upon a small valley, two hills leading into a open space between them, each army had claimed the heights of the hills as their camps, the Royalists had the highest and were clearly the aggressors in this battle, for the rebels were dug into a makeshift redoubt, long stakes pointed out from their camp, trenches reinforced with wood surrounded the stakes for the troops to move through. The rebels also used their Mangonels (Catapults) to rein rocks upon the Royalists.

Yet the Royalists were sending arrow and crossbow bolts in the hundreds, the rebels were fleeing for their lives, Firelan scanned the battlefield. He saw the Royalist commander leading his army from the rear, behind a line of heavily armed infantry armed with pikes and halberds, as well as a line of archers and crossbows each of them with swords on the belts.

Firelan pulled right and once again galloped with Miranda holding him firm, she could see the Bearin banners, see the soldiers fighting under them fleeing for their lives back to the camp, which was being blanketed with arrows and bolts from crossbows. What Mattrox had said was true, the Bearin Rebellion was failing, and it had only been fighting for a few months.

Pulling into the rebel camp, Firelan swung his right leg round and dismounted, handing the reins to Miranda "No matter what happens keep away from the fighting" he ordered. He reached to his packs and began to strap upon his back a simple small crossbow, the bolts no bigger than a quill. He then linked to his belt his Satyr Scimitar, the blade started straight from the hilt butt then dipped down and curved round and then up, behind that a simple hand axe. To his right he fixed a series of small daggers, too small to use, most likely to throw.

With all his equipment he pulled up his hood, and ensured that his cloth mask around his mouth and nose was still firmly tied. To which he marched into the Camp, seeing the rebels run this way and that, trying to organize their defense, some were fleeing for their lives, others were trying to save what they could before leaving.

Standing at the head of the defenses though high upon a war mount was a single leading figure, wearing full plated armor, the horse was a proud stallion, its head and front protected by bright, clean armor and running down along the neck towards the reins were plated steel to guard its neck. Firelan marched straight past them all, seeing a person trying to pull a warhorse away, he pushed the man away, whispered a small word into the horses ear.

Before anyone could protest, Firelan was galloping through the camp, having the stallion jump over the trenches and barricades. And straight at the Royalist line. Pushing through the heavy fighting in the valley, pushing over Royalist fighters as he pushed through.

As he made his way up the opposite hill towards the Royalists, he could see the Royalist Archers Nock, then Draw and finally Loose. Seeing a storm of Arrows flying down upon him, he took a deep strong breath through his nose, whilst opening his arms out, then with a swift clash of his hands, a gust of air erupted forcing the arrows to change direction, instead of going into the ranks of the rebels, they landed in the unprepared lines of the royalists.

The sheer force of the blast, was so powerful that the front line of infantry and spears were pushed back as the gust of wind smacked into their shields.
With the archers trying to nock another arrow storm, Firelan charged on, crashing the horse into the royalist pikes and spears, sending him flying through the air over their heads.

Yet he landed as an efficient climber, instead of landing on his feet or side, he rolled to relieve the shock of the landing. As soon as he landed, Firelan drew forth his scimitar with his right hand, and the hand axe with his left. Dual wielding them, using the axe to block and the scimitar to slice through  the chain mail of the troops around him. He moved faster and faster, swiftly cutting his way through the oncoming spears and halberds, what he did not know was that this whole time the rebels had been seeing this happen, seeing a single man break through the royalist lines.

Now pushing through the archers, Firelan just kept going, not once stopping his fluid movements, even when dodging or weaving his movements became a killing blow to one enemy or another. Soon the entire rebel army was rallying, grabbing their weapons and armor again, after all if one man can do it why not a thousand, two thousand, even some of the wounded were grabbing weapons, men with their arms in straps fought with their free arm. Men in crutches ambled onto the battlefield beating men with their wooden crutches.

The leader still high on his horse at the head of the camp, gave a single order "Have the Mangonels fire on the Royalist commander".

The boulders were soon flying high above the invigorated rebels and the bewildered royalists. By the time the rocks were smashing into the ranks of the royalist reserves, Firelan had his eye on his target, dressed in expensive cloth and decorated armor with a crow on the chest plate. He held firm the commander did, holding his horse firm and in place, watching this unknown rebel break through his armies line, and behind watching the rebel army charge up the hill at his army, which was still trying to figure out what to do.

Firelan then with the fleetest foot, disappeared amongst the fighting dust and smoke from the camp fires, the next the commander saw was him jumping into the air, using the bodies of the dead as a spring board, aiming his small crossbow directly at the commander, soon the bolt was flying through the air and hitting its target dead center, just above the heart, the bolt digging in between the ribs and shoulder blade.

The commander fell from his bucking horse, which had reared up from the commanders sudden pull of the reins as his fell back. The commander regained his senses slowly his helmet knocked free from the landing and the horses sudden rearing, to look through the dust and smoke, seeing a shadow coming towards him. Pulling himself to a knee he tried to regain his footing, yet as he caught his breath, the crossbow bolt still within his shoulder, he felt cold steel on the back of his neck, the blood dripping from the blade.

He looked up and saw his enemy, who carefully brought his free left hand to his face, slowly pulling away the cloth. And with an agonized groan, the commander muttered a single word "Y...You". All he saw then was the shadow pulling the curved blade into the air, with both hands on the grip, and then the final drop.


Chapter 7: Give me 100 men, and I'll win your war

The day was a victory for the rebels, they finally had a victory. Their numbers may have diminished severely, yet they had a victory, the Crow army that had been chasing them for months had been defeated. As the rebel warriors combed the corpse filled battlefield, the leaders gathered, within the tent of rebel leader, the largest, meant to serve as a headquarters and resting place for the lord. It was simple but comfortable, The few lords were gathered around a table, upon it was a large map of the Kingdom of the North, upon the map were carved wooden figures, representing the different families, the Head of a Bear being the rebels and a Crow in flight being the Loyalists.

"We should March on Bear-point my lord.... their army dead we can take back the north" one lord shouted

"Nonsense, our army is bloodied and bruised.... we barely have a few thousand men left" another argued

As they bickered and argued, the leader just stood there listening, looking over the map, "No" he shouted "I want to go home yes.... but for 8 years we have readied ourselves for this, and in a few months we have been butchered"

"But Lord Robert, we are victories" A lord questioned

"Because one man, was able to do what none of us could" the leader looked up revealing an aged Robert Bearin, his dark brown hair combed back and a grown beard and mustached on his face.

Then from the opening of the tent "Excuse me My lord" it went, they all turned to see a simple foot soldier standing there. "The Mercenary is here, and he has someone with him.... she said to tell you.... Bear cubs stick together"

Robert dropped everything, pushed through the lords and out the tent, into the slow sunset of the evening, the stench of death still present. He paused frozen at what he was looking at, a woman standing before him, with a hooded man behind her holding the reins of a brown horse.

The woman was who he was more concerned with, completely frozen, barely able to move he just looked at her, a face he recognized. A face he thought he would never see again, Miranda Bearin his sister, almost 7 years since they last saw each other, her dark brown hair tied back, wearing a torn, muddied dress cut short to her knees.

They just looked at each other, until finally Miranda ran at him, and he at her, gripping each other closely. Something they had never done, siblings which often were the exact opposites doing something that if not for the situation were embracing each other.

After an eternity, they gathered within his tent, Robert tried to explain the state of his rebellion against the crown, of how the great houses refused to back him in trying to reclaim the North for the Bearin family. Yet it was Miranda that explained why, she explained that she was a hostage, used by House Crow to prevent the great houses of the North from supporting the rebels.She explained her escape using a broken torch holder to break the lock of her cell, of how Firelan had rescued and protected her after she fled the Fortress, even going so far as to say that Firelan was the one to kill the Crow leader.

Robert turned to him, offering him a cup of ale, Firelan just looked at him shaking his head. "So you single handedly charge a line of Spears and arrows, cut your way through lines of troops and killed Tredden Crow" Robert stared very hard at him "How?".

Firelan got the impression that he was being interrogated, "You want to how?" Firelan asked, Robert nodded his head "Experience.... I have survived 8 years of war.... countless sieges both as an attacker and defender, and you don't survive that unless you can fight hard"

Robert took a swig of his own ale, whilst returning the refused cup he offered Firelan onto the central table, after swallowing he looked back "I could have use, of a mercenary like you....a man who can fight"

"Well you need them" Firelan scoffed

Robert stood tall, pushing his chair back, Miranda grew scared almost terrified "The men I have are fighters"

Firelan stood up in a simple and confident manner, "The men you have are fighters but they are no where near an army"

Robert even more angered stepped forward, almost close enough to rest his forehead on Firelans, "And what makes an army.... I can tell you leadership... courage.... strength of numbers..."

"Training" Firelan interrupted "Your army is unorganized and no where near ready to fight a proper army alone...."

"Think you can do better" Robert muttered

Firelan smiled at the notion "Give me 100 men and I'll win this war"

They shook hands firmly, the bet had been placed.

The next morning Firelan has his 100 warriors, 30 spear men, 30 archers, 30 swordsmen and 10 engineers , most were farmers wielding simple weapons, and little armor. So the first thing Firelan did was teach them how to forge weapons, he said that for them they would smelt, forge and smith their own weapons and armor, so then they are certain that their lives are in their hands.

He taught them carefully, with every detail helping those who struggled, after one day, they began to help each other, the smiths among them taught the others and trained each other on how to work the metals properly. The following day, they were ready to forge weapons and armor, Firelan ordered them to smith a single uniform armor for all of them, each would be in the same style, but would be grafted to fit the wearer, he explained that each type would have a specific armor and style, so that they can be easily recognized on the battlefield, Archers would have the lightest so they can move quicker to draw their bows.

The spears would have strong shields and even stronger spears, the spears would be double pointed with a counter weight at the bottom. They soon understood why when practicing, they found it easier to keep the spear firmly in their hands and stop it from waving.

Next he deemed it necessary to clean up their little camp. He organized everything meticulously, every detail of the camp was structured, he had them build special latrines, a reasonable distance from the kitchen and food stores, then he organized the sleeping arrangements, so that the men from different regions mixed. The tents he had formed into neat lines and columns, so there were clear routes through the camp. He had the engineers work hard in their wood work, he drew sketches of designs for them to study and interpret he even asked them, where they would make improvements, and to his excitement they came through, for example in the plans for the camp, they made improvements in the defenses.

When the armor and weapons were forged and the camp cleaned, he then took them out into an open field, and taught them the ranks. He shouted orders "SPEARS FRONT!" At first they shambled into position, but after a while they moved quickly and decisively, almost as if they were of one mind, the archers moved back, the swords took second line and the spear men up front shields forward, "PRESENT!" they lowed their spears and braced themselves to form a shield wall all of them shouting a firm "HOOAAHH" as they did.

After a week of that, he had return to the same field but further away to the crest of a hill, he told to form up into their ranks just behind the crest of the hill, they all wondered what he had planned, yet they had learned to trust him. He showed them two buckets of paint one red the other blue. First he painted a blue line in the mud and grass a few feet in front of them in a semi circle each end to the squares left and right, telling them if they crossed this line then they would be cleaning the latrine pits barefoot.

He then took the red paint and painted a red semi circle behind them, the ends of the red line meeting the blue line. This time he told them that If they "crossed this line then they would clean the Latrine pits barefoot and with their bare hands".

He stepped aside, and waved his hands, then from the crest came a storm of cavalry, charging, screaming at them. They all crossed the red line within seconds. That night as he promised, they were all cleaning the latrine pits by hand, the following day after letting them thoroughly clean themselves he had them do it again, telling them that Cavalry are chasers, they want you to run, they want you to flee. "But if you hold firm... stand firm... shields, spears and swords ready, archers firing from behind them then the Cavalry can't break you.... the horses will break and turn away".

Again the lines were painted, again the cavalry charged headlong at the 100 fighters. Yet this time although frightened, they held firm, terrified but firm. And to their amazement at the very last moment the horses either stopped rearing up, or turned away from the firm stance of the men.

They all understood what he now said, stand firm and they will be the ones to run. For the next following days, they practiced everything, how to fight as a group and alone, how to fight with all manner of weaponry from swords to axes to hammers to daggers, he vigorously trained them all he even sparred with them teaching them some of his tricks.

All the while Robert watched it unfold, he couldn't believe it, in just a few weeks this mercenary had turned a group of farmers, shopkeepers and smithy's into soldiers. He was amazed, jealous and proud all at the same time. Until finally one night.

He invited Firelan back into his tent "Well you've won the bet" he joked.

"Its not over.... I've trained a hundred men.... now we can do more" Firelan answered

Robert walked around his map table standing opposite from Firelan "The lords want to march on Bear point... but I don't think we have the men for a siege.... a with autumn approaching we can't last long" Firelan stepped forward, slightly, moving his hands around one of the Bear head pieces, he moved over to Bear point on the map.

"You don't need an army to take Bear point.... you have one...or the makings of one... I have trained 100 men, they can each teach 10 more....that means that in a few weeks you will have an army of well over 1,000 trained warriors, a month and then you have 5,000 fighters trained and ready" Firelan explained

"It won't matter how strong the army is.... we can't take Bear point.... we don't have the men for a siege" Robert shouted

"Who said it would be a siege.." Firelan muttere, Robert just looked at him"By now the Crows will only have a skeleton force defending the fortress" Robert understood, after all the army chasing them was all they had, yet he waved his left hand, around and around signifying to Firelan to hurry up and get to the point. And he did with a smile on his face "In the east I met a man called Avos" Robert heard that profoundly "He told me of a secret underground tunnel.... that leads from the heart of the fortress to a safe location well over a mile to the north of the city walls"

Robert finally understood the idea this mercenary was explaining "so we send a small force through the tunnel.... they infiltrate the fortress and the city.... open the gates"

"Then your army moves in" Firelan finished the statement.


Chapter 8: Home in sight

A month of heavy preparation, ranging from training to planning, Robert had the mercenary Firelan assist in everything, after all this eastern mercenary was more experienced in war than any of the lords supporting him.

Robert even asked to aid in deciding the route to Bear Point, Robert was in favor of the most direct route. But Firelan insisted that they divert, follow the minor routes that lead by the strongholds of the major houses, Robert was concerned but Firelan explained. "Let them see the Northern army march... allow them to see that the Bear army is stronger than that of the Crows".

Robert agreed, and soon the army was marching, Robert at its head with Firelan and Miranda on either side of him all of them on horse back. The army stretched out behind them, marching in formation, disciplined, organized, structured, a proper army on the move, show them that Bearin family are the ones to back.

And boy did it work, every house, every stronghold major and minor, dropped their banners and raised the roaring bear. Every family was willingly showing their loyalty, Robert was proud for he was going to take back his home, take back the North for the family he was so proud of.

Within a week of marching during the day and resting during the night, the army was in place, overlooking the greatest fortress in the North. Bear Point, the mighty solid stone walls standing tall, the towers and citadel standing high upon the dead drop of the cliffs. But Robert was more concerned with what he was looking at, the Bear point town was bustling as he remembered it, but what was at the harbor. Dozens of ships all bearing a Griffin on the flags and sails. The Crown had sent the Royal fleet, nothing was as it had seemed, the Crows were not the real masters of the North, no it was one of the Kings brothers.

For on the towers and the walls were not Crow banners, but Crowned Griffins. Not Crow troops but a Griffin army on the battlements. Robert realized that even with all the preparation and training his army didn't stand a chance against an army from the south within the town and gods knows how many troops were aboard that fleet. Lowering his head, he was only returned to the moment by a sudden call, a loud, grumbling, echoing, growling call that sounded more like a beast.

It was a call that awoke everyone, Firelan recognized the sound he was the only one to mutter the words that everyone was thinking "Dragon".

He ran straight over to Robert, "This could tip the balance.... if there is a Dragon in there... it can either help us or kill us.... I will lead the infiltration team, you ready the army" Before Robert could answer, Firelan had run off, collecting 20 men he knew and trusted. Robert was concerned, scared, terrified of the outcome of the battle to come, yet he was firm, he turned around fitting his Bear head shaped helmet over his own head and march down the hill towards the camp.

"TONIGHT WE RECLAIM THE NORTH" he shouted "WE RECLAIM OUR HOME" the troops around him shouted in a great war cry, "WE RECLAIM OUR HONOR.... AND OUR FREEDOM", he pulled his great bastard sword out and held it in the air, all around him they did the same.

Meanwhile in the deep forests and ravines surrounding the northern boundaries of Bear Point, Firelan moved carefully through the trees with his 20 men. But then he froze, a feeling he had felt before. He then said "Mattrox... I know your there"

From the shadows, a dozen warriors came out, most of them Elves, their bows readied arrows drawn, Orcs with their hammers and axes prepared for a fight. "A dragon calls and the bear rallies" a voice went.

"Resurge Vesh.... " Firelan introduced "My name is Firelan..... I we need your help"

The old Elf looked at him with rage "Do you mock me?"

"We cannot old friend... the clans won't fight for Robert.... he never did anything for us... he only ever demanded things of us" Mattrox replied.

Vesh gave an even more vicious response "He means that we aren't fighting for Humans" Mattrox looked to Vesh with surprise. "You butcher our people..."

"I wasn't responsible for the Blood forest" Firelan shouted "I know you lost your wife.... and your son... but that doesn't mean we cannot let it divide us"

Vesh and Mattrox looked to each other, before answering "You know our answer", they then moved back into the shadows of the forest.

Knowing they were on their own Firelan pushed on, to find the secret entrance to the tunnels. A small hole resembling that of a sewer exit, stone archway with a metal grate blocking it, soon the grate was gone and the 21 men were pushing through the sludge and manky water running around their feet.

With simple torches they moved with care to stop them from slipping, but with speed they only had so long to get the gates open, else the battle will be a massacre. Then Firelan raised his hand into a fist, ordering them to hold, looking up he saw a small grate atop a simple stone ladder with the steps carved into the walls, "You take this grate, open the gates and get the army in... as quick as you can" he ordered.

"What about you?" one of them asked

"I'm going to turn the tide" he answered

Chapter 9: the Dragon awakens

Firelan moved further and further into the tunnel, instead of coming up in the lower town close to the gates, no he exited at the point that was in the heart of the Citadel. He peaked through the hole of the opened grate, looking around he could see nothing but darkness, but the air he could hear the battle for the lower town already in progress. The sound of ringing of swords clashing, screams of the dead or dying and of course the cries of the wounded.

But as he rose out the hole, he heard a crying grumble, like that of an animal. Spinning around gripping his Satyr scimitar, he looked to see a large cave that he recognized, meant for storage, but the cave was sealed shut with immensely thick bars of a reinforced steel gate. The bars he could tell were badly damaged, some were slightly bent, others covered in rust and scorch marks, even the stone surrounding the bars were covered in char marks from the presence of fire.

He looked over the gate within the bars,  he could the long bolt holding the gate sealed shut. He peaked through the bars, but then dived for cover as a gust of fire and flames erupted from the darkness of the cave. When the flames subsided, he looked back up and saw the strong muzzle of a Dark black Dragon sniffing the air close to him, he carefully raised his hands away from his weapons "I do not want to hurt you.... I am going to try and pull the bolt out and open the gate".

He pulled himself to his feet, slowly and carefully, yet the dragon did not move, nor did it resist. It merely stood still, watching every move the Firelan made, yet Firelan could make out more details of the beast before him, it was in bad condition. Its wings had small tattered holes in, its body was covered in scars of all kinds, large and small. Its body was truly immense, its mouth alone, was large enough to swallow a man whole, its body was large enough to carry a dozen men, its wings great enough to carry it and cover hundreds of men.

Firelan gripped the bolt with both hands, feeling the gritted and broken metal piercing his palms, he pulled hard, but nothing, the bolt did not even nudge. He pulled again and again groaning in pain as the broken pieces of rusted metal pushed deeper and deeper into his hands, he could feel the bolt becoming slippery merely from his own blood being spilled over it.

Yet after a minute of pulled and heaving he finally could feel the bolt coming loose, all the while the dragon merely watched as the seemingly complete stranger trying to it.

Finally the bolt pulled away, with Firelan falling onto his back. Th Dragon didn't hesitate though, forcing its way out through the now unlocked gate. Opening its wings for the first time in who knows how long, feeling the free air whistling around it strong bone spikes around its head and running down its back. But then it turned its head to point its snake like eyes directly at Firelan. Who readied himself for a gust of flames again, yet nothing happened, the dragon merely lowered its head, as if it was bowing.

It then rose again, opening its wings and throwing itself into the air. Firelan just watched as it flew away free again. But then his attention was turned away from the dragon, but to the storm of troops charging through into the courtyard, at their head was a bloodied Robert his long sword covered in blood. He was the only one to come running to Firelan, offering his hand he pulled the Mercenary up laughing "So that was your plan, let the beast go... hoping it would turn the tide"

"Better to have it out here than stuck in there" the reply came.

Yet their attention soon turned, to the fight, looking around they saw hundreds of Griffin troops charging out of the Citadel and down from its walls to counter the invasion, Robert ordered "CHARGE!", yet before he could Firelan pointed up.

"Catapults, we need to take them out" he shouted

Robert nodded, leading the way, they both fought through the melee, moving up the countless stairs, leading up to the highest walls and towers and too the all important catapults. Yet when they reached the wall they looked back and forth to nothing but enemy surrounding them, they ended back to back.

"I always thought I would die fighting with my brother" Robert shouted "Like you Avos"

"YOU KNEW!!" he replied

"You think I wouldn't recognize my own brother right.... I knew the moment I saw you charge the field" Robert shouted through the swings of his sword. Avos now revealed himself, removing his hood and mask, he would have replied, but his eyes seemed to be loosing their focus.

He looked out and saw the open ocean, in the light of the full moon and the flames of the burning lower town erupted in fires from the ferocious fighting down there. He could see through his blurring eyes the gathering Royalist fleet, they were unfurling their sails, to unload their troops and retake the Fortress. Avos was really struggling to keep his focus, his eyes kept blurring, his body kept receiving cold chills, with his eyes, in some cases it was clear, almost pristine, even in the limited light of the moon and flames he could see perfectly, it was as if he could see like it was during the day, other times it was blurred and contorted.

"Looks like this is the end hey Rob" Avos shouted, readying his scimitar.

"Well..." Robert replied "LETS MAKE THE END MEMORABLE!!"

But then a loud screeching call, "Down!" Avos shouted, turning to grab Robert, he pushed him over, as a sudden gust of fire, erupted along the walls. over the screams of the burning royalists, Robert looked around and saw a large dragon with four legs and tattered wings flying over head, strafing isolated royalist troops with fire from his open roaring mouth.

He turned to look at Avos, to see his eyes changing, Avos' eyes were opening and closing in constant blinking from the discomfort of his vision blurring. But then when he opened his eyes again, Robert saw not the eyes of a normal human, but those of a Snake, golden with long vertical pupils.

Avos understood what was happening, he stood up and looked down at the gathering fleet, he whispered "Burn the ships". All present ceased their fighting, looking up at the Dragon swerve around towards the fleet, in a single strafe it unleashed a great eruption of fire that engulfed half the fleet and even the water held the flames.

Everyone in the fortress could hear the flames and the screams of those burning aboard the burning wrecks. Those on the walls retreated down to the courtyard, everyone turned to look at the brave warrior standing tall ordering the Dragon to burn a great fleet.

All the while from the forests and hills, elven guerillas and Orc clans watched from a distance the dragon burning everything they hated, humans and royalists, yet it left the town and the fortress alone.

Chapter 10: The King of Vakor

By the time the sun was rising, the fighting was long over, the dragon truly had turned the tide, with o reinforcements and no way to combat a dragon, the remaining Crow and Griffin troops surrendered in their droves. Watched over by the gathered army of the North, they gathered them all in the great Courtyard of the Citadel, The dragon resting high upon the towers of the Citadel, its wings shadowing all those beneath in the courtyard.

Robert stood by his brother, he now understood, that this was Avos' victory not his. Avos, didn't want it though, why would he? he had no right to anything, he was an illegitimate born son, a bastard. He held back, even as the hundreds of captives kneeled to him.

By midday though the lords of the North gathered together in the great hall. Robert held the greatest chair at the middle of the high table closest to the fireplace, the other lords were bickering amongst themselves, whilst Avos just stood by the fireplace trying to contemplate the fact he had just earned the loyalty of a Dragon, the most powerful beast this world has ever known.

Sitting next to Robert, was Miranda a woman who sat strengthened knowing that she now was home, yet she was angry, angry that these people were not listening to the real problem. Others were arguing about the Orc Mattrox and other clan chiefs, as well as Resurge Vesh the Elven nationalist rebel, alongside other leading members of his guerilla force.

"We have won the war.." some shouted

"The war isn't over.... "Avos shouted they all quieted down, "Winter may be close....but do you think the King and the Queen mother will let you hunker down for the winter....We burned one of the Kings brothers in that fleet... they won't sit by and let that go unanswered.... my lords" he stepped forward standing by Robert who remained seated in his chair "Winter we can survive... but the Royalists we can't wait out".

When he went silent, once again they began to speak amongst themselves contemplating their options, they all knew he was right, yet no one was willing to speak in favor.
At least until a young woman stood up, walked around the table into the center of the great hall, it was Miranda and she had a mission, "You Resurge Vesh, your people were butchered by the Royalists in the Blood forest.... your son and wife amongst the dead... yet not once did you stand" She said these words whilst pointing at Resurge Vesh, clutching his Elven recurve bow, his armor with feathers engraved into it. He looked to his feet, he knew she was right, he could have fought but he didn't because of his pride.

She then pointed towards Mattrox "and you Mattrox.... how many of your people have suffered under the Royalist.... yet none of you stood.... you would rather flee" Mattrox too looked to his feet, she was right, he had dishonored himself and his people.

"But we the people of the North stood... and now we shall stand for our true King.... and he stands there" She pointed Avos "He may be a Bastard, but he has earned his right to the Throne... he is the Dragon King.... my King... the King of Vakor", she lowered herself to take a knee, bowing her head, to Avos Dracko who just stood there is shock.

Resurge Vesh was the first to act, as everyone else remained seated, he stood up Bow in hand "Lady Bearin speaks the truth.... My family fought For Anor Draco the United.... I never thought I would ever meet a King.... the elves could follow" He looked Avos dead in the reptilian eyes "But I am glad to see that I was wrong" everyone looked to him with shock "Avos Dracko.... has avenged the Blood Forest.... he is the Dragon King.... the King of Thorns" He raised his bow into the air, before taking a knee and slamming the tip of the bow into the stone floor, everyone was shocked at this, for there had not been a King of Thorns since the old Elven kings many millennia ago.

Next was Mattrox "I didn't fight beside you old friend.... and that Dishonor shall follow me until my dying breath..... An Orc can only admit when he was wrong.... and ask for forgiveness"

They all turned to Avos, "You have nothing feel dishonor for old Friend"

Mattrox, grabbed his dual handed war hammer firmly in his right hand "A war is on the horizon....the Orc and Goblins of the North.... shall fight for the Dragon king...... from this moment.... and until the last moment of this world" he shouted proudly, but he then pointed his hammer at Avos "And I shall fight for Avos Dracko.." holding it high he shouted "The King with the Iron Crown", he slammed the hammer into the stone kneeling to his king.

no one did anything until Robert, stood up, looking at his brother "You are the one we have been waiting for..." he walked around the table, stood next to his sister and shouted firmly and proudly "THE KING OF VAKOR".

Everyone, human, elf, orc and goblin stood up proudly shouting out, declaring the man before them by the words they were shouting "THE KING OF VAKOR...... THE KING OF VAKOR..... THE KING OF VAKOR".

Avos now realized the shock of everything going on, he had been crowned not the king of the United Kingdoms, like his father and all his ancestors on his fathers side.... no he had been crowned the King of the continent, by all the people, not just the humans but everyone.... they were all looking to him as the future... the man.... the DRAGON KING.

A simple northern rebellion had become something more.... it was now called the DRAGON REBELLION.