Iron, Fire, & Bone

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. Nor did they ever fly as freely as they do now. The lands before were much different, much darker than today. It was a time of oppression, where blood soaked the ground, violence entertained, and brutality a kind of sport.

In the olden days of Valenfiore, the country was enamored with the "Great Sport." A popular contest of strength, spirit, and most of all, glory. Wealth, power, and prestige awaited all those unafraid of death. But this was merely a facade, an amusement to settle disputes.

Every four years, chosen knights and mighty dragons honor their land and people, serving as Champions for their lords. But these games, too, brought death and untold destruction upon the country, engulfing its ordinary people in the flames of war.

However, this year would be the worse. The ruler of Valenfiore, King Titus Valen, the sixth, has fallen ill. And without a Queen or heir, the Kingdom is left leaderless. However, all that would change with the commencement of the Twenty-Fifth "Great Sport."

But our story begins long ago, on a battlefield amassed with the graves of knights and dragons alike. An Elder Dragon, the last of its kind, is mortally wounded at the hands of Commander Titus Valen.

The dragon whispers, "The end of your line will be the beginning of mine, and destiny will seek to return what you've stolen."

Commander Valen plunges his sword into the dying dragon, killing it swiftly as an act of mercy. He emerges weakened, standing before his legions of followers. They all stand ready, waiting for his command.

"I now claim these lands as my own!" He proclaims, raising his sword.

And on this day, Valenfiore was founded. But amongst the debris and celebration, a dragon's egg lies beside the carcass of the Elder Dragon. Covered in hard scales and shiny stones, it glows dimly, patiently waiting for its time.

Since the death of the Elder Dragon, the egg sits in the King's treasure room. A trophy seated atop a golden pedestal, a relic of history, prowess, and conquest. And for a hundred years, it sat quietly in the shadows, almost forgotten. It was not until today that destiny would come calling.

In the captial city of Titastrium, a great sorrow has befallen the Kingdom. King Titus Valen, the sixth, has succumbed to his illness and has passed. And an elaborate and regal procession is underway, gathering noblemen from across the country.

A few of the King's thirteen Lords, each responsible for a province of Valenfiore, were in attendance. Some came to mourn, others to honor, and a few to plot. But all were apprehensive, fearing the uncertainty of an absent throne. Each with the same thought in mind, "Who would be King?"

Lord Galvin Athium, the ruler of Themascria, was a popular candidate. Out of all the lords, he was the strongest of them all. He was a proficient warrior, a cunning ruler, and the Champion of his province. Having won the last four "Great Sport" himself, he earned prosperity for his people and the title "Warlord" for himself.

When the King's procession ended, a meeting convened in the Great Hall. The King's men, advisors, courtesans, and noblemen all gathered. A deafening silence echoed the room, carrying a heavy sentiment of uncertainty. A group of men in holy garments of white and gold suddenly arrive, proceeding to the center.

"All hail Prime Magister Reis Dowlin!" A palace guard announces.

Prime Magister Reis was the King's second-in-command and the leader of the Magisters, a group most loyal to the crown. The Prime Magister held tremendous power, aside from the King himself.

Magister Reis stood firmly and confidently. "We are all here to witness the reading of the King's last will..." He states as he slowly unravels his parchment. "It is with heavy hearts we must all gather—"

"Can we skip the pleasantries..." A man with a pale complexion and long dark hair requests. "...The matter of succession is why we are all here, aren't we?"

"Despite his lack of decorum, I agree with Lord Oberon." Lord Calium Satorium, Lord of Illandia, states. "As we are all concerned with the current welfare of Valenfiore..."

A man yells. "The sooner a successor is named, the sooner order returns!"

"Agreed!" Many unanimously shout.

Prime Magister Reis moves his finger quickly down the parchment. "As the King had no Queen or heir, he bequeaths the title of King of Valenfiore..." He stops to clear his throat. "...to the Champion's lord of the Twenty-Fifth 'Great Sport.'"

The audience erupts with dissent over the shocking news, appalled regarding the King's decision. Many within the Kingdom assumed that Lord Galvin would succeed, though now, any of the thirteen lords are in contention to become King.

Amidst the chaos, there was only one who reveled with delight. Lord Oberon Visole, Lord of the province of Tartan, quietly sat with a conniving smile. "Come..." He orders his men, "We have much to do. Much to do we have."

Lord Oberon discreetly departs the Great Hall, with only a hooded Magister noticing his absence. The hooded Magister turns to the Prime Magister, busily embroiled with an angry crowd, and decides to follow the suspicious Lord alone.

In the farthest regions of the capital lies TruHarth, a land surrounded by farms, rivers, and mountains. Compared to the rest of the provinces, it is not a place abundant in wealth. Though its people may be poor, they live freely and peacefully under the rule of Lord Albertus Assius.

Here, the trickling of destiny begins to flow, with a young squire diligently training, hoping to one day be called a knight. In an open field covered in mud and grass, a man in silver armor teaches a group of squires.

"Swing with confidence, Isaii!" Sir Arden shouts. "How many times must I tell you? Follow through without hesitation."

"Swing? He can barely pick up a sword," A red-headed squire shouts.

"Mind your training, Fiche." Sir Arden angrily commands. "Or it's stable duties for the week."

"Y-yes, Sir Arden!" Fiche agitatedly replies.

Isaii continues to practice his swings, unable to cut through a training dummy. His sword clings to the wood, pulling on it until the blade snaps. All the squires, including Fiche, laugh and ridicule him.

"Go back to where you belong, peasant..."

Isaii runs off in shame, embarrassed at his poor swordsmanship. Sir Arden pulls the sword from the dummy, yelling at his squires to keep training. He follows Isaii and finds him sitting on a rock, a secret spot located in the woods outside the city.

Sir Arden sat beside Isaii. "...Here..."

Isaii takes the broken sword.

Sir Arden points. "See here—the blade's rusted." He reveals. "A great number of things are in TruHarth..."

Isaii stares at the rusted metal. "Even so, I'm not cut out to be a knight—I'm not like the others...I'm not of noble blood."

"You are!" Sir Arden boldly states.

Isaii blankly stares at Sir Arden. "Did you forget? I am the son of a seamstress."

Sir Arden holds his tongue. Taking a moment to regain his composure. "Apologies...I only meant that you have potential."

"A peasant like me?" Isaii asked apprehensively. "There's not a chance."

"Your father was..." Sir Arden said with a smile. "We grew up and trained together, and he...he was a much better knight than me."

"So he was a knight?" Isaii asked with keen interest. "I never knew that. Mother and grandfather don't talk about him."

Sir Arden looks away. "No, he wasn't..." He said with a sad tone.

"Oh..." Isaii curiously inquired. "So what else do you know about him?

"Let's make a deal..." Sir Arden quickly asks. "I'll tell you everything about him once you become a knight?"

Isaii nods with satisfaction.

"Well, now. Shall we return to training, or shall we wait for your face to rust?" Sir Arden playfully said with a laugh.

Isaii smiles as he wipes his tears from his cheek.

As the other squires rigorously train, their eyes move to the sudden appearance of a knight on horseback. They all begin to chase the knight, following him to the town of Boroughs. The knight gallops towards the town's central square, patiently waiting for all the townspeople to gather.

"It's a Titastrian!" A nervous man utters. "Why is a knight of the King here?"

The Titastrian unrolls his parchment. "The Twenty-Fifth 'Great Sport' will begin on the first day of the fourth season...all provinces who wish to participate must send a champion to the Valley of Sunsets at dawn. The Lord of the winning Champion will become the next King of Valenfiore."

The Titastrian rolls up his parchment and hastily departs, leaving the townspeople with doubt and worry. Sir Arden stares off in thought, dismissing his squires as he silently walks away.

Isaii returns home, greeted by his grandfather and mother.

His grandfather lights his smoking pipe, "Welcome home, Isaii..."

Isaii's mother quickly takes the smoking pipe from him. "How many times must I tell you? No smoking in the house, father."

"Aww," His grandfather moans. "Isaii, my boy. You look awfully jittery."

"Guess what just happened?" Isaii excitedly asked. "...A Titastrian came to Boroughs!"

"Whatever for!?" His grandfather said with concern.

"To announce the Twenty-Fifth 'Great Sport.' And guess what this year's prize is?"

"Livestock, more land? No, young maidens!?" His grandfather answered with a mischievous grin.

"Father!" Isaii's mother said with a clenching stare.

Isaii shakes his head. "King! The Champion's Lord will become King!"

"That's impossible..." Isaii's mother said with doubt. "Why would the King allow such a prize?"

"The King is dead." Isaii's grandfather replies. "The King is dead."

"Father, mind your tongue." Isaii's mom said with worry. "Do you want to be hanged for spreading false rumors?"

"It's the truth." Isaii's grandfather said with confidence. "A passing merchant said the King had passed several months ago."

"Imagine if Lord Albertus became King? Boroughs and all of TruHarth would be well off." Isaii hopefully stated.

Isaii's grandfather crosses his arms. "And who will be our Champ—"

"Sir Arden, of course!" Isaii excitingly interrupted.

"He's the last knight Lord Albertus would choose." Isaii's grandfather snarkily commented.

Isaii looked puzzled. "But he's the best knight in all of TruHarth..."

"That maybe so, but after what he's done..."

"Enough!" Isaii's mother shouted upsettingly. "There'll be no talks of Sir Arden, Champions, or the Great Sport. Understood?"

Isaii's grandfather sighed in agreement. "Even IF we had a Champion, we'd still need a dragon. And these lands, no longer bare..."

Isaii's mother hands him a sack filled with supplies.

"Bring these to the hermit."

"Do I have to?" Isaii pleads. "He's a bit odd..."

"The boy's right..." Isaii's grandfather said with a stern expression. "No telling what he does in those woods alone."

"Even so, in these lands, we help each other." His mother lectures him as she gently pushes him out the door. "And be back before dinner."

Isaii marches through the dense woods, mouthing to himself his annoyance. His stomach growls, watching the sun close to setting. At the end of the clearing was his destination, an opening to a dark and frightful cave. Isaii laid the sack beside the entrance, not daring to venture further. As he turns to leave, he briefly sees the silhouette of a woman.

"Hello?" He curiously asks. "My mother asks me to deliver these."

Isaii carefully takes a closer step.

Warm air and a bright light begin to fill the cave, followed by a growling echo that was louder than Isaii's stomach. He cautiously turns back, runs into the woods, and collides with the old hermit.

"Who are you!?" The old hermit angrily demanded to know. "Why are you here!?"

"I'm sorry..." Isaii replies before sprinting past him. "I'm sorry!"

"Stay away!" The old hermit shouts. "STAY AWAY!!!"

Isaii ran home in a panic, telling his mother what he'd seen. She didn't pay much attention to her son's tale, as this was not the first time his imagination had fooled him. Only his grandfather believed him, warning him of the dangers of magic.

After that night, Isaii avoided the woods near the cave, weary of the old hermit. He thought it best to forget about the ordeal, prioritizing his training instead. But even as the season changed, his swordsmanship remained the same. His confidence in himself soon waned, and all he could do was sulk.

He'd often retreat to his secret spot in the woods, sitting on his favorite rock to contemplate. But on this day, someone was already on it, a beautiful young woman singing inattentively. Her hair was the color of wheat—rough, messy, and wild, complemented by her fair skin and ocean blue eyes.

"Hello, who are you?" Isaii curiously approached.

Startled by his presence, the beautiful young woman escapes into the woods. Isaii quickly chases after her, unconcerned about the direction she is headed. He rushes past tree after tree before losing sight of her, finally taking a moment to realize where he is. Isaii was in No Man's Land, a forbidden part of the woods.

The forbidden woods felt different from those closer to Boroughs, silent, cold, and empty. It felt abandoned, and Isaii wondered why. But he'd soon have his answer, hearing a deep snarl from behind him. The daylight became enshadowed, obstructed by something enormous.

"Oh-no..." Isaii said with anguish.

He had encountered an Ogre, a creature of large proportion with an insatiable hunger. It had two massive bottom fangs, coarse skin, and an overwhelming stench that even a maggot would avoid.

Isaii slightly raised his hands in front of him. "E-easy, there..." He nervously mumbles.

The Ogre tosses a dead doe on the ground, rushing towards Isaii with new interest. Running for his life, Isaii hears loud thundering sounds behind him. They were the sounds of giant trees tipping, pushed over by the Ogre as it gives chase.

"Help!" Isaii shouts desperately. "Somebody, help me!!!"

Isaii was miles from Boroughs, with the Ogre close behind. Without any options left, all he could do was run, and run he did. Fortunately, his training as a knight gave him considerable stamina, yet it was not enough.

The Ogre showed no signs of fatigue, still full of life and hunger.

"Oh-no..." Isaii said again with misery.

He had come to the end of the woods, facing the edge of a high cliff. Before he could make his way back, the Ogre had already caught up to him. Isaii was left with a hard decision, stay and be eaten or jump and try his luck. So he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and crossed his arms before falling backward off the cliff.

Isaii expected to feel the soft breeze run through his hair, a slow moment of freedom before the crash. But instead, he felt the immediate impact from a hard surface.

"Ow, my back!" Isaii moans. "That fall was short..."

Opening his eyes, Isaii finds himself on the back of a dragon, gracefully flying through the air. He had never seen a dragon before, only hearing stories of their kind from his grandfather. He marveled at its beauty, the white and gold scales, the jewel atop its forehead, and crown-like horns. His astonishment turned to fright, realizing that he was on top of an actual dragon.

The dragon drops Isaii on a bed of leaves, safely far from No Man's Land. He quickly gets up and looks around with leaves stuck in his hair.

"Where did it go?"

The dragon suddenly lands in front of Isaii.

"Please don't eat me!" He shrieked while covering his face.

"Why would I eat you?" A gentle voice giggles.

Isaii lowers his arms and is surprised to see the beautiful young woman.

"Where's the dragon!?" He abruptly asked her. "And where did you come from!?"

The young woman smiles, "I'm the dragon..." She points to herself. "Are you alright?"

"Look, this isn't a game." He clarifies, "There's a dragon on the loose—I saw it!"

"I'm the dragon!" She insisted.

"I'm a knight—a brave and mighty knight." Isaii proclaims. "This is a serious matter!"

The beautiful young woman was unimpressed. "Do brave knights run from Ogres, shrieking like a child?"

"H-how do you know that?" He asked with embarrassment.

"Because I'm the dragon!" She reiterated while firmly stomping her foot.

"Hmph. Okay, prove it..." He skeptically asked.

The young woman transforms into a dragon, the same dragon that rescued him earlier. It wraps its tail around Isaii, flinging him into the branches of a tree.

"Okay, I believe you!" Falling from branch to branch. "I'm sorry!"

Isaii picks himself up, walking to the dragon to apologize.

"Thank you for saving me." Gracefully bowing. "My name's Isaii."

The dragon transforms back into a beautiful young woman.

"My name's Casia." She replies.

Isaii and Casia quickly became friends, sharing a love and passion for adventure and story. During the day, he'd often sneak her into Boroughs, showing her the wonders of his town. And at night, they'd fly through the skies together, traveling in search of short adventures.

But those innocent days of freedom and leisure would soon end, as destiny would lead them to horrors unimaginable. It begins as the first frost of winter arrives, bringing famine and sickness to TruHarth. Lord Albertus and his most trusted advisors have convened, hoping for a resolution to the pandemic.

Councilman Darrin angrily slams his fist on the table. "These lands have too far been neglected!"

"What in the Great Divine are we to do? The King is dead..." Bishop Xavier prays.

"That does not matter—" Sir Edvard Roland, the Knight General, interjects. "In years past, our prosperity, our welfare was made of by our own merits. The 'Great Sport' have always sustained us, NOT the King!"

"Sir Edvard is correct..." Councilman Darrin proclaims. "And in the Twenty-Fifth, the Lord of the Champion will be King, and perhaps prosperity can finally return to TruHart!"

"But who will be our Champion?" Bishop Xavier curiously asked. "We must send our best if we of any hope of winning!"

"What of Sir Arden?" Sir Edvard suggests.

"What utter nonsense!" Bishop Xavier shouts. "...After what he's done? He's lucky to have not been banished!"

"Sir Edvard is right, Lord Bishop. He is our best knight..."

"But even so, to think the man who let..." Bishop Xavier closes his eyes to pray. "Oh, Great Divine..."

Sir Edvard turns to Lord Albertus. "What say you, my Lord?"

A few days later, Isaii sprints through the snow-covered streets of Boroughs, rushing to speak with Sir Arden.

"Sir Arden, Sir Arden!" He shouts out of breath. "Is it true!? Did Lord Albertus ask you to be his Champion?"

Preoccupied with skinning a rabbit, Sir Arden ignores Isaii's question. He focuses on pulling out the animal's meat, then tosses the fur into a barrel.

Sir Arden sighs, "And where did you hear that from?"

"From the other squires..." Isaii replies. "Is that why you've had Sir Klvar trains us?"

"Hmm, those gossiping noble brats..." He mutters while cutting meat and packaging it. "But I have no intention of participating."

"Why not?" Isaii inquires. "Is it because TruHarth doesn't have a dragon?"

Sir Arden enters his house with Isaii right behind him.

"TruHarth needs you!"

Sir Arden starts a fire.

"TruHarth will need a dragon, and our province has not seen their ilk in along time..."

Sir Arden spoke of the possibility of finding a dragon in the Valley, though now a wasteland filled with unwanted creatures. It was a dangerous and unlikely find, but Lord Albertus had commanded it regardless. Even if Sir Arden did find a dragon, a wild dragon could not compare to that of a trained one. What was needed to win the Twenty-Fifth was a strong bond, a bond between knight and dragon.

Sir Arden stared into the fire. "Felsme was TruHarth's dragon—helped us win countless 'Great Sport,' until the Twenty-First."

"What happened?" Isaii hesitantly whispers.

"A bad decision..." He answered with a miserable sigh. "...One bad decision that I made."

Isaii listened intently to Sir Arden's recounting of the past, the failures, and the regret. Sir Arden was born to House Vestale, a lineage that birth generations of Champions. They alone were responsible for TruHarth's opulence, winning countless times in the 'Great Sport.' But it was Sir Arden who had created its now impoverished state, all from a single act.

"Every 'Great Sport' has three challenges, always different, but always three." Sir Arden informs Isaii. "I made it into the last challenge, a duel of swords and dragons, known as a Dragoff..." Sir Arden closes his eyes with regretful frustration. "The night before, I foolishly celebrated and could not compete. My squire secretly took my place, and he and Felsme lost their lives."

Felsme was TruHarth's last dragon and the chance to compete again. And the squire who died was of noble blood, which House, Sir Arden was too ashamed to say. But it was someone of great importance, one that would have earned him death, albeit not for his family's legacy of service.

Isaii left Sir Arden with his thoughts, having felt awful for opening old wounds. He finally understood why Sir Arden was not a Knight Captain, being relegated to an instructor for his past mistakes. He sat in his secret spot in the woods, frustrated at his inability to help.

Casia surprises Isaii, "Rawr! I'm an Ogre, and I've come to take you away." She giggles before noticing his troubled look, "What's wrong?"

Isaii explained TruHarth's dire straits, of Sir Arden, the 'Great Sport,' and the need to participate in the Twenty-Fifth.

As he stared at Casia, a thought arrived.

"Why don't you be Sir Arden's dragon?" He suggested. "You can compete with him. If he finds out about you, then he'd definitely participate!"

Casia regretfully shakes her head, uncomfortable with the idea.

"Why not? The problem with wild dragons is that they're untamed. But you're human, so that won't be a problem!" Isaii explains.

Casia suggests Isaii takes Sir Arden's place, and together they can compete.

Isaii is startled at the idea.

"I'm a dragon, and you're a knight—It's perfect!"

"No, no, no!" Isaii replied, mortified. "All of Valenfiore's best knights will be there, and Sir Arden is OUR best." He emphasized. "And why can't you just compete with him?"

Casia silently but angrily stares at Isaii, disappointed at his foolishness. She walks away, ignoring pleas.

Later that night, Isaii lay in bed, annoyed with Casia. He couldn't understand why she was being stubborn, why she just couldn't compete with Sir Arden. He soon hears loud coughing sounds, finding that his grandfather had fallen ill. With a shortage in medicine, Isaii knew what he had to do. If Casia were too stubborn to change her mind, Isaii would have to change his.

Casia sat on the cliff's edge, gazing into the moon. The cold winter air didn't bother her much, as the curiosities of her thoughts preoccupied her. She wondered who she was, why she could turn into a dragon, but most of all, her fate. She felt destined for greatness but had no idea what that was, though she knew it was more than simply hiding in a cave.

"Okay..." Isaii abruptly said. "Let's do it!"

Casia was startled to see Isaii, dawned in silver armor and with a determined look. She stared at him speechlessly, surprised that he had changed his mind. However, Casia's silence worried Isaii, unsure if she had changed hers. Then he suddenly felt her hand on his, filling him with confidence and hope.

They quietly left in the night, flying through the skies. The same skies they've flown before, seeing the same sights they've seen before. But this time, it was different. Maybe it was the feeling of uncertainty, unsure whether they'd return. All they knew was to cherish this moment, realizing that after tonight, everything would change.