Mages and Outcasts

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. It was as if the majestic creatures never existed, for they had no reason to. Prior to the era of ferocious fire-breathing reptiles swarming the skies, innocent, yet poisonous salamanders roamed the marshes along the outskirts of a lagoon connected to three rivers. All was peaceful in their home. They would have relished in living harmoniously with their natural habitat, until the arrival of King Brentthorn and the battles he brought with him. Now, it was a time of fear and war. After establishing his reign, the thunderous hooves of winged horses trampled the defenseless lizard’s sacred homeland thus jeopardizing their territory during the daily fights of Princess Chastina, a royal descendant of the Gradarian Monarchy’s ever-expanding kingdom.

Although she had everything her heart longed for, the princess herself was more ruthless than the swords she wielded. Surely mirroring her father’s manner, she constantly bragged of her victories against the bloodlines’ rivals and boasted of tremendous triumphs in archery and swordsmanship. Her very name was praised as an invincible warrior for every battlefield her foot touched. Each battle's conclusion was the same in Brentthorn's heir to the throne eradicating the enemy with minuscule competition. Then, riding into the chaotic battle, dressed in decadent robes of royalty overlooking conquered land entered the king himself. His beard dripped with wine like the gold from his breastplate. The guardsmen bowed and approached their leader bearing gifts of living captives, perfectly suited for a tyrant's eye.

"These are the only three mages recovered from battle, my liege," a royal guardsman reported as he tugged the shackles constraining the prisoners.

"Excellent work," Brentthorn congratulated as he rewarded his guardsmen with gold pieces. “Tell me, mage, did you actually believe that you stood a chance against us?”

The presumably leading mage of the three captives remained silent.

“Answer your king!” The guardsman ordered with his sword drawn.

"Sheath your sword,” Brentthorn ordered. “Continue to search the area for more of their kind and bring them to my feast.”

“As you wish my liege.”

“I want every self-proclaimed mage found and executed if it means destroying every household in Romania."

Making quick work of rebelling infantry with three swings of a blade, the princess unveiled her docile face from beneath her war helmet while claiming another small accomplishment against the midday sun. Her rearing paladin horse scattered the surviving rebels into the neighboring forests in retreat. The flags of Brentthorn’s Monarchy billowed ever-so boldly in the sky further establishing the king’s power.

“You there,” The princess ordered her guardsmen. “Escort me to my chamber. Galahad, Kay and the rest of you establish a perimeter. Slaughter any rebel who crosses.”

Contributing more to the salamander’s demise, the Gradarian Monarchy erected a seemingly impenetrable palace whose shadow not only single handedly transfigured a peaceful land into a chaos-stricken tragedy, yet also swallowed the rivers dry. The meadows became flooded with winged horse pastures stretching further than the eye could see. There was no secret in that anyone daring to oppose the Gradarians or challenge their imperial conquest casually doomed themselves. Driven from the marshes and into a dried up ravine, the salamanders symbolized the embodiment of the least of all creatures. Their decimated sanctuary soon welcomed dismembered remains of Brentthorn's foes.

“Away, you bloody creature,” Kay commanded the fleeing salamander. He tapped its tail with his broadsword while finishing his late afternoon routine overlooking the dried up marshes.

“Disgusting little demons,” Galahad replied in preparation of tumbling a corpse over a ravine from his horseback. “I hate lizards.”

“Be careful!” Kay called as he rummaged through the white swath outlining the corpse.

“Be careful of what?” Galahad asked. “He is dead, is he not?”

“Dead or just imitating death?” Kay asked. "Mages are masterminds at death imitation."

Galahad rolled his eyes in disbelief.

“The lizard’s poison will surely take his life if the fall into that ravine does not kill him first. Besides, those lizards are much better off befriending a dead mage or two anyway.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that if I were you.” Kay warned with a glaring eye.

“What did you say?”

The guardsman checked over his shoulder just to make sure the king and his daughter were far enough out of hearing range.

“I wouldn’t want this to go any further, yet the king believes that mages can transform the lizards into dragons.”

“Sorcery?” Galahad chuckled. “They can’t practice sorcery if they’re dead.”

“It’s not a laughing matter,” Kay admonished. “One mage befriending a lizard is all it takes to be his majesty’s undoing!”