The King's nephew

There weren't always dragons in the valley. As Edward would have the villagers believe , there still weren't any dragons in the valley. That fragile notion, barely held together like an old puny ladder, threatening every day to be shattered into a million pieces under the weight of the local heresay. All the same, he would maintain the frail fallacy.

The Treasure Rebellion, or what some refered to as the dragon rebellion was horrific beyond King edward's means of explanation. Even after all the years had passed Edward couldn't fully explain to himself exactly what happened. He would always start with the tangible details, they were fragments of a traumatizing account in which he would try piecing together, like a terrifying puzzle that had challenged his mind and become a reliable companion for the rest of his years. One , if not the only detail he found solace in, was that he had made his fortune. All those years ago , blood-soaked and petrified and dizzy and confused. His torch, impaled into the ground, it's flame wavering under the wind, wind so strong it dared to snatch the sword from his grip, his next thought even more frightening than the carnage that had unfolded around him, "here in this rock catacomb, passed the labyrinth of descensions into the earth, there was no passage for wind. This... is breath."

Timothy galloped violently passed the vast winding stairs. There was no doubt in his mind that this time he had indeed finally cornered his uncle Edward into a confession. His triumphant anxiety carried him in such a way that he could barely avoid knocking over a servant as he barreled down the hallway. He composed himself as much as he could manage as he strutted through the arc doorway. On the other side was a fancy chamber laced with stone cut openings and majestic engravings. There were writings authored by wisemen and scholars from every corner of the world. A sword, blackened on the blade was held on a wall above the bed.

"you're royalty?" He slowed his approach into the room. His feet thudded with every step. He was stocky and heavy footed, the sword on his side looked like a dagger next to his massive body. His curly hair threatned to block his view if not tended to.

"What is it boy?" , Edward sat in a chair that he pulled to the stone opening facing the view of the town. He spoke in the type of tone that didn't seem to be asking a question.

"My, has someone pissed in your wine?"

"I don't know yet , why don't you tell me what you're doing here"

"Is it uncommon for me to visit you? I'm your nephew after all"

Edward rose from his chair and turned heartily to face timothy. The sunlight behind him turned his white hair into silver. He was fit for an aging man."Now i feel as though i should ready my archers" , His cold blue eyes smiled toward his visitor.

Timothy bursted into a smile, "Is there something on my face ?"

"You have addressed me by 'uncle' ever since the day i adopted you, long before you understood the politics of royalty and kingship. You, my child only use formalities under extreme duress. Or when you're being a jackass. And judging by the pig's smile across your face I'll choose well to ask, what mischief have you found now?"

" Uncle", his face in genuine admiration smiling "You are truly the standard of royalty and kingship" , reaching in his pouch to produce his prize.

The tavern was shadowy and damp. The musty air mixed with the many combinations of ales and the smell of everyones' laughter and arguments and singing. The sun penetrated through the windows and cracks in the roof and cracks in the wall. The place was shabby but in a trustworthy way. A woman poured drinks for two men and herself at a table. The woman was astonishingly beautiful, with high cheek bones and full lips. She wore a gown that clearly did not belong in this place. The man to her left raised his glass. His face was worn and anxious, his beard was slung around his face like a thick scarf. he shared her cheekbones and lips. "Here's to the new chase", his eyes panned across the table."Colin?" , "Emily?"

Emily was visibly becoming annoyed,"It's most certainly not my chase", she put her glass directly to her mouth with no salute. The brown liquid flowed into her body. She was perfect.

"Oh sister" , he turned again to Colin, who readily clashed glasses with him.

"To the new chase i say" yelped Colin , a handsome, younger and significantly less hairy man than the rest of the men in the tavern. "If it means a chance of me owning my own field, like Harry says-"

"When are you going to stop following my brother around like a mindless kitten? Harry hasn't got any clue what he's talking about! Have you both forgotten about the masacre in the moinir caves just two years ago?"

"The moinir men have been known for generations to be savages" Harry rebuttaled.

Emily's eyes losing tolerance for her brother, holding back an urge of some sort she turned to him, "Yes , savages toward their enemies, but toward the people who neighbor their lands? No Prize can be that great! Needless to say there was not a dragon to be accounted for, no golden scales, just hundreds of dead idiots lost in a cave who died looking for their own-"

"My weary sister, i know you distrust my judgement and in the past i've given you reason to do so."

"Yes the recent past.", Emily scoffed

"Which is why I humbly insist that you do not trust me , but rather the King's nephew, your beloved Timothy."

"What the hell are you talking about ?"