The jet-black sky was bestrewn with stars, illuminating the world below them. It was always strange walking through the royal courtyard. Vaylor would often recall how it looked many centuries ago.
That was, of course, when the 56th Great Reset had yet to end. The place was once a dilapidated and squalid war zone, littered with mangled bodies and slick with blood.
Now, however, it was more regal than anything Vaylor had ever seen. There was a giant statue of the first Lord Bryteburn fixed into the centre of the courtyard. He was sat astride his dragon, with the black banner of house Bryteburn gripped tightly in his iron hands—a two headed dragon burning a plethora of skulls.
Around it, there were marble walkways leading up to colonnades that were all wrought into the likeness of a dragon. Above them, the palace sat idly as it beheld the two figures in front of it. The two were amply dressed in armour, matching the regality of the place. They were both the blood of the dragon, after all.
Much of the floor had been worked into mosaics, depicting various images of dragons, warfare, ancient figures that had existed even before Lord Vaylor's time, and of the emperor that now ruled over all of the thirteen dragon families.
The BryteBurns had paid homage to the eternal emperor in another way, flying his banner on the giant spires that bloomed out of the palace. One could not make out what lay within it from the outside. There were huge rose windows that tore away at the darkness, thunderous hymns being sang in praise of The Voice, and, below them, Vaylor could hear the rumbling of the dragons that the Bryteburns had been breeding for millennias.
"A new dragon hatched?" Vaylor said, turning to the boy.
"Uh, yeah. Sylvie. My sister named it."
"Ah, and is she the one that's going to tame it, then?"
"Sylvie is to be tamed by the next generation. Either by my child or my sisters. And, uh, what about you?"
"Me? What about me?" Vaylor raised a brow.
"The dragons of house Bloodsworn. Are there any new ones?"
"No, and there never will be. All the dragons that remained are under my control."
"I see." Rannel replied.
An awkward silence had settled into the air after that, and followed them to a large oaken door that allowed the two into the palace.
Inside the palace, a capacious hallway had greeted them eagerly. A priest had served to do the same.
"Welcome, welcome! Lord Vaylor, young master! It is great to see you both!"
"Shouldn't you be singing a hymn," Vaylor scoffed, walking past the man.
"I am without my robes, my lord! No man of the church can sing the holy words of The Voice without his robes."
"Praise be, father." Rannel said, shaking and kissing the man's wrinkly hands. He plastered a kiss on his bald head, too. "Do you know where my father is?"
"The throne room, young master. He has many guests, oh, so many!"
"Thank you father." Rannel said, waving him off.
"You're awfully kind to a man wearing brown rags. There should be perpetual elegance held in such a place as this."
"I could say the same thing to you, Vaylor. I haven't forgotten about that worm tamer. Where is he now?"
"At home, most like."
"You mean your home?"
"Whatever place he decided home is." Vaylor smiled, stopping by another large oak door. "We're here." Vaylor placed his palm against it and lightly pushed the door open.
Inside the throne room, an oblong table had been placed in its centre. On either side, there were guests dining with revised etiquette, digging into various plates of food.
Behind it, a large throne had been raised up from the ground, where a single figure had taken its seat with a bored expression on his face. He was bored no longer, however.
"Ahhh! Lord Vaylor, Rannel, my boy! You've finally arrived!"
"Hello father." Rannel said, taking a seat by one of the three paladins who were already in the throne room.
"What took you so long out there?" Said the paladin, stuffing her mouth with turkey.
"I got sidetracked." Rannel said, taking off his helm. "Jeez, just how much have you had to eat, Syndney?"
"Knock it off! Let the girl eat, Rannel. She has much appreciation for food." His father said. "Lord Vaylor, come, come! Please, take a seat. The king will be here to join us shortly."
Sydney, swayed by his words, continued stuffing her face with food. Some of the oily foods, such as the fried chicken and the pakoras, had left behind their residue on her pale fingers, which she then used to play with the golden tresses of her hair.
Revised etiquette? Nonsense, this girl eats like she was raised by savages.
The other paladins adhered to their regal upbringing. There was tall Solores Swynn, a boy who hailed from the Xhosi kingdoms situated in the deep southern regions of the continent. His skin was as black as soot—matching well with the black braids atop his head—his eyes as brown as ebony, and his wide nose shrivelled up in disgust as he gave Syndney a glance.
To his left sat Joris Wynehart, a boy with copper skin and dark hair that tumbled past his pauldrons. Looking at him now, the boy always reminded Vaylor of Alix. They had the same muscular physique, and the same brown eyes, though his was marred by a black fleck that had been there since his nameday.
"It is a great pleasure to be here, Lord Bryteburn." Vaylor said, taking the seat beside Solores.
"Ahh! The pleasure is all mine." Said the wizened old lord, revealing an assortment of pearly white teeth. It didn't serve well with the rest of him. The man's sallow skin resembled mustard, and a man who was a day shy of death—though one only had to observe his movements to tell that he was in perfect health.
He was one of the oldest dragon tamers by far—798—almost nearing the average lifespan that was expected of Vaylor's kind. There was a dearth of hair on the crown of his scalp, and the grey-red follicles on either side of his head spoke of the luscious mane that once sat atop of it. Aging is a terrible thing.
There was another thing about Lord Bryteburn that one should care to note. He had his own personal army, not the kind that was subject to the state, but the kind that came out of his loins. He had produced 22 legitimate children, all of which had their own children, and then those children went on to produce their own. He had many more in the past, but the Great Reset had claimed their lives.
Rannel Bryteburn was the youngest out of all of them, and so was greatly coddled by the ever-so-affectionate Lord who ensured he was prepared for the war that was to come.
Lord Bryteburn was strongly advised against producing any more, his advisors would often cite the Xhosi civil war that had occurred thousands of years ago. The Xhosi family were deep-south dragon tamers who had produced many kin, many of whom rebelled against their own father in the second Great Reset.
This is why, as precaution against the possibility of rebellion, the 13 dragon tamers established a system where a maximum of three children can be conceived for every generation.
Lord Bryteburn had his own fair share of rebellions, but his staunch sons and grandsons had swiftly put them down. It is why he was so adamantly against the three-child system and went out of his way to create his own army, believing he would have an advantage against any scheming dragon lord.
Lord Vaylor observed another man who was hiding behind the giant throne. The sight of him had perturbed Vaylor greatly, and had slightly widened his eyes with a lick of shock.
"Ruwyn. What are you doing here?" Vaylor hissed.
The man chuckled, almost dropping a large book that was pressed tightly against his breast. He was wearing the same wine-red tunic that Lord Bryteburn was elegantly dressed in—matching with the fat ruby ring on his finger. His short brown hair was neatly kempt, serving well with the elegance that shrouded the place—if one were to exclude Sydney.
"Not even a hello? That is quite rude of you, my lord." Ruwyn smiled, stroking his goatee.
"What's a member of the Silent Fangs doing here? Shouldn't your people be spying on me in silence?"
"Spying!?" Ruwyn exclaimed, turning to Lord Bryteburn with a look of shock. "That is quite the accusation!"
"That is quite the accusation, Vaylor." Lord Bryteburn repeated with a frown. "The Silent Fangs deal with foreigners and suspicious figures. They have no reason to be observing you."
"Aye, Lord Bryteburn has the truth of it! I have come as a delegate to find out what caused the destruction near the borders." Ruwyn said.
"Your people haven't found out anything at all?" Vaylor snickered.
"Well, we suspect that Lin Ti is involved. We wanted to ask your wife a couple of questions but we thought better of it."
"That was wise." Vaylor's face darkened.
"Oh! How is your wife, Lord Vaylor?!" Syndney beamed, her mouth still full of food.
"She's good, eat in silence." Vaylor waved her off. Syndney slumped back in her chair with a distraught look on her face.
"Say, Lord Vaylor, how is that boy?" Ruwyn said, studying Vaylor attentively.
"Boy? What boy?" Vaylor replied, feigning confusion.
"The one who survived his trial." Ruwyn said.
"Ah," Solores suddenly spoke up, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "I heard something happened at the academy today. He's a student there now, and apparently Luwyn gave him quite the beating."
"He what?" Vaylor groaned
"Aye, Yuno called me to tell me about it." Said Joris, pushing away his empty plate. "Mayfor stepped in to defend him, though."
"Mayfor!? Damn him, so he did enroll. What's a Mulliven doing at Draco?" Rannel complained.
"Better yet, what's that worm tamer doing at Draco?" Said Syndney.
"Lord Vaylor can answer that." Ruwyn smiled, turning to the now puzzled Lord.
"What?" Vaylor blinked.
"Well, you did enroll him into the academy didn't you?" Ruwyn shrugged. "I see he's also taking residence at your home?"
Vaylor's eyes bulged. He turned to the smiling delegate with a gaze that could pierce through his azure-blue eyes. Rising to his feet, his tone was veiled by wroth and suspicion. "How did you know that?"
"Hm? Know what, my lord?"
"How do you know that he's living with me!"
The room was swept by silence, panicked expressions had found their way on the faces of the paladins, and Lord Bryteburn was equally as perturbed—turning to Ruwyn as he himself waited for an answer.
Ruwyn cleared his throat. "Some blabbering mouths will speak of many things. One of these mouths belongs to the headmaster, who boasted about taking in the 'intrepid worm tamer.' When asked on why he had done so, he told the media that it had been requested by a Lord Vaylor, and he was so deeply moved by your penance over the false accusation, and the courage of the worm tamer, that he could not refuse."
He paused and then went on. "Another blabbering mouth belonged to a Draco receptionist. She had reported seeing that worm tamer with a servant who she recalled to be indentured to a Lord Vaylor. She's a fanatic you see, a true royalist that studies those things even while she's at work—probably why they later fired her. Thus, many of us only assumed that you had taken on this Alix Vineyard, my lord."
Lord Bryteburn sank back into his throne with a look of acceptance, the paladins nodded to mark that his answer was sufficient. But Lord Vaylor knew better.
Yeah right, you damn spy. It's a shame my rouse didn't work, even Lord Bryteburn is too stupid to see the Silent Fangs plotting on his own turf!