The Semi-Warring States Of Dragon Valley

There weren’t always dragons in the valley that sits between the kingdoms of Dunkren and Rabicula. In fact, before their sudden and mysterious disappearance a few days ago, they had only been there roughly three hundred years.

“I want both of you to behave during this meeting,” said the one who is between the ages of his two noble counterparts.

“I’ll behave if she behaves.” said the younger of the three.

“Of course she’ll behave. She’s the most honorable person in Rabicula- though I guess that isn’t really saying much. That doesn’t mean she won’t try and succeed in manipulating you into misbehaving,” said the elder of the three travelers.

“You know I can have you jailed for that comment, Sir,” said the younger.

“Yes, but if I am forced to stop releasing my epic tales of mystery then the Contraloans will stop providing those secret shipments of cocoa that you love so much,” said the elder. The three squires behind them did not seem to hear. It may have been problematic if they did. The younger looked disappointedly at him but did not respond.

“Ok, I’ll rephrase my previous statement from earlier. I want both of you to behave right now, and do not speak until we get to the temple,” said the one who is between the ages of the other two. The other two did not comply.

While the party from Dunkren makes their way to the center of the valley, let us review the circumstances that brought forth this uncomfortable situation. The valley that they are approaching makes up nearly the entire path between Dunkren and Rabicula. It had previously been known as “The Valley That Sits Between The Two Moderately Friendly Kingdoms Of Dunkren And Rabicula”. Sadly, that name could not stay after the dragons arrived as the two kingdoms were no longer moderately friendly. One would even be mistaken in saying that they were ‘ask how your mother is doing after her recent fall’ friendly.

The original name may have been an apt descriptor of the valley, but lacked heavily in creativity. They are not particularly well known for their creativity. To be frank, they aren’t very well known for anything at all. Dragons are rather common throughout the world, and Dunkren and Rabicula were among the last to meet them. The only reason that the island the two sit upon is known at all is because of the stories of Sir Faldor of Dunkren- the world’s most famous mystery solver.

The kingdoms lay on an island in a remote section of the world known as Contenentia. It is a month-long voyage by sea to any other known civilization. They don’t seem to mind the independence though. They don’t have a lot of reasons to leave. They grow the bulk of their own food and entertain themselves rather well. There are thousands of trees along the island that they can climb, umclimb, then burn while they sit around the flames and discuss which trees they’ll hit, both figuratively and literally, the next day.

The first order of business when the dragons arrived was to rename the valley. They almost immediately decided on the moniker “Dragon Valley” - a fortunate consequence of their lack of creativity. This is one of the few things on which the entire island of Contenentia has been able to agree. The only other consensus they’ve found seems to be the fact that tree bark does not taste very good. Not to shame trees. Everyone loves trees. It is just shockingly common how many of them have peeled a tree trunk thinking they had discovered a natural and nutritious snack.

The dragons of Dragon Valley were viewed as divine from the beginning, each of them worshipped as the god of something and other; something by the Rabiculans, and other by the Dunkish, or vice-versa depending on your point of view. This is by far the greatest point of contention between the two kingdoms. The dragons are certainly gods. This is not lost on anyone. However, they are unable to come to a consensus on which is the god of what- except of course for the purple dragon which both know to be the god of the number 7.

The dragons did not become gods on a whim. Approximately two hundred ninety-nine years ago, a Dunkish farmer’s harvest was being pestered by a swarm of locusts that nested themselves above the crops. He claimed that the green dragon breathed fire unto the doomed harvest, killing all the bugs, and the following month not only was the harvest ready, but it was more bountiful than he thought the land capable of producing. From then on the green dragon was known as the Dunkish god of the harvest.

The next week, the green dragon took the perilously short journey across the Dunkish hills, through Dragon Valley, and over the Rabiculan mountains- which are the same size as the Dunkish hills, but, like always, they had to one-up their island mates. The dragon greeted the local barber in the way dragons do. There is, after all, no way of approaching anything in a calm manner if you’re the size of the average barn. The barber emptied out his own stomach upon first sight of the beast.

He was a rather homely barber, with excessively long hair and a powerful beard that covered his entire face. He often smelled dirty, but the townspeople were able to see past that because of his skill with a pair of scissors. A few days after the dragon encounter, the barber was engaged to be married to a beautiful woman named Petunia- most Rabiculan women are named for flowers, men for types of trees. Some dissenters say the engagement was a direct result of the man finally cutting his own hair and taking a bath in an effort to remove the contents of his own stomach from his face. Others, mainly those who had heard the news of the Dunkish harvest, were confident that it was the work of the green dragon, who would henceforth be known as the Rabiculan god of love and beauty.

The sudden disappearance of the dragons was a huge cause for alarm throughout both kingdoms. The harvest was meant to be ready in less than a month, the yearly Dunkish expedition to the unclaimed forest was meant to happen earlier in the week, no one was able to groom themselves properly, and Rabiculans were questioning if laying down for bed counted as sitting.

The temple of dragon valley was built just after the valley was renamed. Most scholars can agree that the temple has never changed names as the valley had. Although, there is one scholar who claims that it used to be called ‘The Temple That Is Located In Dragon Valley’. The claim is highly disputed but can’t be withdrawn on the small possibility that it’s true.

The temple dons statues of all six reptilian gods of Contenentia- the green, red, grey, purple, and multicolored dragons, as well as the dragon with the word chair printed on its back. The temple is rarely visited by humans save for dire situations. This was a dire situation. The honor guards and intellectual leaders of both kingdoms crossed their respective mountains to reach the temple. Although the Rabiculans technically crossed mountains, they were really just misnamed hills. They were able to get there in less than an hour.

As everyone approached the table, the party from Rabicula all reached for the backs of their own chairs and tucked them in. After all, the dragon with the word chair printed on its back had taken off earlier that week- hence the meeting currently taking place in the temple of the dragons. Not shockingly, the dragon with the word chair written on its back is not the Dunkish god of sitting, so the Dunkish pulled their chairs out and sat down with gusto as if to boast the fact that their legs would not tire throughout the meeting. Silence ensued for a period of around ninety seconds.

The Honor Guard is the highest rank in both kingdoms. It used to be king, but they both quickly realized that offsprings of wise men are often unwise. This notion became much more widespread when King Jezor the fourteenth began the trend of eating tree bark. They only still refer to themselves as kingdoms because ‘honordom’ doesn’t sound nearly as strong.

The Honor Guard of Dunkren is named Honorable- at first glance, one may claim that his mother's unmerited confidence paid off, but about half of Dunkish boys born in the last fifty years are named Honorable. After Honor Guard Honorable the first, any honor guard not named Honorable warrants less respect. A few years ago, there was an honor guard whose mother was a sweeper and father a drunk. They never expected their child to ace the honor exam. This resulted in Honor Guard Glenn, referred to by the kind people of Dunkren as ‘Doody Guard Glenn’.

The Honor Guard of Rabicula is named Iris, after the flower that her mother had picked earlier on the day she was born. This is also not a coincidence. She had been picking and replanting the same three Irises for weeks. The two leaders entered the temple followed by their legions of intellectual leaders and their squires. Honorable came from Dunkren with his wisest advisor and the former Dunkish mystery solver general. Iris came with two intellectual leaders- her mother and her head of mysteries. There are not many mysteries in Rabicula. The average Rabiculan citizen tends to be rather honorable- not honorable like the name, honorable like the namesake of the man named after an adjective. But even so, they need someone to solve whatever comes across the docket.

“I now declare this meeting started,” said the Honor Guard Iris of Rabicula, vertical as ever.

“Who says you get to begin the meeting?” Said Honor Guard Honorable, already not following the advice he was given on the way.

“Sir, we have been here for ninety seconds without speaking. It only makes sense that someone begins the meeting.”

“I was being polite and waiting for you to take your seat before beginning the meeting.”

“If you knew anything about your neighbors, you would know that we are unable to take a seat while the god of sitting is not with us,” said Iris’s mother rather snippily.

“You’re kidding right?” Said Faldor- the revered Dunkish mystery solver that Honorable had brought, hoping he would be of some help. It also doesn’t hurt that he is able to insult the Rabiculans while Honorable is able to appear as respectfully diplomatic as possible. “In what world would a god be so trite as to rule over something so minuscule?”

“Enough Faldor,” Honorable said to his mystery solver with a poorly hidden wink before turning back to Iris. “Apologies for my colleague. He isn’t able to filter himself when he hears ridiculous things.” The Rabiculan Honor Guard rolled her eyes. The third member of the Dunkish party put his palm over his eyes and forehead and sighed. “I know your name to be Iris. You may call me Honorable if you would like.”

“I would not like.”

“And why is that?”

“I am sorry sir, but I have no way to respond to that in a kind manner, and my mother tells me when I come across this situation to say nothing at all.”

“Very good, dear,” said Iris’s mother.

Honorable was offended of course, but he had practiced controlling his emotions earlier that year while prepping for the honor exam, and especially lately in preparation for his meeting with Iris. The sixteen-year-old leader had progressed quite well with his temper. The tantrums were limited to an average of one in every four minor transgressions. They just needed to hope that the quick-witted foreign leader valued the return of the dragons over her love for insulting Dunkishmen.

“Enough squabbling you two,” said Honorable’s top advisor, also named Honorable. Ever since the younger Honorable outscored him for the title of Honor Guard, he has been known in the castle as “Big H”. An incredibly unfitting nickname for a fit man of twenty-seven years. “The Temple of the Dragons is no place for useless jabs. This is a holy place.”

“Are you sure?” Asked Faldor. “This place doesn’t seem very holey to me. I can only see one or two.” Big H turned to make very condescending eye contact with his elder. Faldor quickly broke it. “Oh apologies your former guardliness, there are a few more holes over there. Your head is so filled with knowledge that its added girth must have blocked my view.”

Honor Guard Honorable could not help but let out a mild chuckle. He tried his best to cover it with his hand but it was able to squeak out through his fingers. He quickly composed himself. “That’s enough Faldor. Apologies my lady,” he was addressing Iris. “These two may not be the best of friends, but they are both vital to our discussion.”

“Apology accepted sir.”

“Honorable is fine.”

“I imagine so, sir. I think I would be right in assuming that you as I have now traveled to the Temple of the Dragons for only the second time in your life.” Honorable nodded. “Would I also be correct assuming the people of Dunkren are lost and scared by the disappearance of the dragons?” He nodded again.

“I love my kingdom,” she continued, “and I am frightened for how Rabicula will fair in the dragon’s absence. It has already begun to affect our daily lives. There is a sign outside of our town hall as always, saying that the dragons are currently watching over the kingdom, but since the multicolored dragon is not here we do not have the ability to change it to read that the dragons have disappeared. People are confused and terrified and there is nothing we can do.”

“You don’t need a god to change things, just change the sign,” said Faldor.

“Watch your tongue when speaking to the Honor Guard you wretched Dunkrenite.” Iris’s mother interjected.

“Mother!” Iris said trying to curb her mother’s well-documented hatred of the Dunkish. “Sir Faldor, I know you do not respect Rabicula and that is your right, but I also know you are an honorable man of Dunkren. You would not be here right now if the dragons’ disappearance did not affect you.” Faldor leaned back in his chair and did not respond. He wanted to say ‘technically I’m one of the few men in Dunkren not named Honorable’, but he kept it to himself.

“Yes, Sir Faldor,” Honorable addressed his mystery solver as if he was about to take the last piece of cake. “That has been enough from you. Though their problems are far less substantial, we’re hurt by the loss of the dragons too. Without the multicolored god, we are unable to use Dunkish, and therefore I cannot sign your paychecks.” What Iris said made Faldor think, but that statement was the one that got to him. He leaned back in his chair and did not respond.

“What in the name of the Green dragon is Dunkish?” Asked Iris’s mother.

“It is the official written language of Dunkren,” this was the first time the young man to Iris’s right had interjected. He was by far the smallest person at the table- although you would not be able to tell by the fact that four of the seven were sitting down. He wore two pieces of clear glass on his eyes held up by his ears and nose. He also had on his wrist a device designed to tell the time, which was actually rather accurate.

“Yes, it was developed so that no Rabiculan spies would be able to find our secrets,” said Big H, wary to divulge the information. “But judging by the fact that this one knew about it, I guess it wasn’t working well. I’m sorry sir, but I did not catch your name.” He looked up at the lone male Rabiculan who pointed to himself as if to ask ‘are you talking to me?’

“Yes, you with the surprising wealth of knowledge on Dunkren. What is your name?”

“Oh apologies your um, your-” he looked up at Iris like she would tell him how to refer to Big H. She shrugged, leaving the young man to try and figure out on his own- a dire mistake. “your Big H-ness.” This elicited another giggle from the Dunkish honor guard. Faldor thought to himself, thank the gods his name isn’t Ponorable, but kept it to himself, the child had mocked Big H enough for that moment and it wasn’t even purposeful. “My name is Birch. I am the head of mysteries of Rabicula.” Faldor pretended to fall asleep, releasing a mild snort every once in a while. Big H glanced his way and rolled his eyes.

The head of mysteries was an official position in Rabicula, unlike Dunkren. They actually used to have something similar to it called the ‘mystery solver general’, but the position was discontinued by Big H due to the fact that he just really doesn’t like Faldor and grew tired of having him live in the palace. Honorable just never bothered to reinstate the position.

“Ok, Sir Birch-”

“Just Birch, sir. Sir Birch is my favorite flavor of cold creamy sugar snack.” Everyone who was currently at the table made some sort of an eye roll or snarl.

“Ok, Birch the jester,” Big H continued hesitantly, as he had to compliment Faldor to make his next point. “Sir Faldor has solved more than a thousand mysteries in Dunkren,” he gagged as he finished his sentence “and is likely the most accomplished mystery solver in the world. “What in your past proves that you would be any help on this quest?”

“I do not see why that is necessary Sir Big H,” Iris said. “He has my recommendation. That should be enough.”

“With all due respect, Lady Iris,” said Honorable. He looked over at Big H who nodded ever so slightly before he continued. “We cannot be entirely sure that Rabicula is not at fault for the dragon’s disappearance, and-”

“HOW DARE YOU,” exclaimed Iris’s mother.

“How dare we?” said Big H. “Lady Marigold, with some due respect, it would not be out of character for Rabicula to pull something like this. We have not forgotten about the church of formal and slightly informal greetings.”

“That was not my mother.”

“No, dear, it was me.”

“MOTHER.”

It was only a few months ago that the church of formal and slightly informal greetings was vandalized. The CFSIG is conveniently located in the Dunkish town square, one of the biggest areas of worship in the kingdoms. It is second to only the shrine to primary colored dragons that borders the Rabiculan palace.

The CFSIG was home to a massive statue of the grey dragon, who is the Dunkish god of formal and slightly informal greetings. It was mounted on the stone roof by a series of beams and columns invisible to the congregation. One morning a few years ago, the pastor went to unlock the door to find the lock was open but unscathed. The statue is now red, which is the color of the Rabiculan god of formal and slightly informal greetings.

“Oh relax Iris. They deserved it. They invented an entirely new language to keep us out of their affairs.”

“You quite literally just found out about that five minutes ago,” said Honorable.

“Doesn’t make it untrue,” said Marigold under her breath. The tension at the table was rather high at this point. “Do you think we’re sending spies over to Dunkren to try and read your bulletin posts about corn and trees? We don’t care how you spend your time as long as it doesn’t affect us or the dragons.”

“Wait a second,” said Iris like she’d just seen a ghost. “How many people are at this table right now?”

Everyone scanned the table and quaked. “My gods,” said Big H. “One of you will have to step away.”

“Why us?” said Iris. “This man has just been sitting here writing the entire time. Send him away.”

“He is our scribe,” said Big H. “We like to have a record of our meetings.”

“I thought you couldn’t write since the disappearance of the dragons,” Marigold said with disdain.

“That is only Dunkish,” said Honorable. “We can still write in the common script as we please. It’s okay Jester (they refer to him as his second name, but his first name is Honorable). You can write just as well over by the squires. Think of the purple dragon.”

The scribe took his scroll and his reeds and left the table. Honorable put his hands together and said “praise to the purple dragon”, and everyone else, including the Rabiculans, repeated, “praise to the purple dragon”. There had seven people at the table. The purple dragon is the god of the number seven. This is not up for debate. It is simply a fact.

“Phew,” Iris’s heartbeat slowed down again. “Now that that’s settled, I think we should get back to the reason we decided to meet. Sir Faldor, word of your record is legendary. From the fabled olive caper of 295 to the bongo conundrum of 298, word of your exploits has reached Rabicula and I imagine across the world as well.”

“Your Honorable, you are too much. I can say that the attraction is mutual. Care you meet for dinner? I know a great venue where you can lean on a pillar rather than sitting.”

She did not look at him. She looked through him, her icy blue eyes penetrating his gaze and silencing his soul itself. She had the ability to do that to nearly anyone. It is one of the traits that makes her such a successful honor guard. She has managed to keep the post for fourteen years after all.

“Jokes of course my lady,” said Faldor. “Of course I will look into the dragon’s disappearance.”

“And you will take Birch with you.”

“I most certainly will not.”

“Faldor,” Big H said. “The child will go with you.”

Faldor sized up the petite Rabiculan who claimed to know his way around a folly, which he was able to do quite easily because of the fact that Birch was standing up. Faldor is well known as the strongest mystery solver in the history of the kingdoms. The best mystery solvers tend to come from Dunkren. That isn’t because they purposely breed young sleuths or anything like that. There are just a plethora of mysteries in Dunkren that need to be solved. Society in Dunkren has always been fairly lackadaisical, with young, male honor guards who think the law cannot constrict fun. This consistently results in a backorder of mysteries that people such as Faldor are tasked to solve. And in the case of Faldor, said mysteries do not remain unsolved for long.

“Ok Belch.”

“Birch, sir,” he said quietly.

“Please don’t call me sir. Either Faldor or master.”

“Since when did you become a master?” Asked Big H.

“I am the highest ranking mystery solver in Dunkren. I gave the title to myself, just as you can call yourself the master dung slinger if you wish. Now if you would stop interrupting, I believe the task at hand relies quite heavily on my rapport with Bench here.”

“Birch, master.”

“Hmm, you know what? I don’t really like the sound of that. Sir is fine.”

“Yes, sir.” The boy found this back and forth more tiresome than annoying. He just wanted the dragons back. He loved them as much as anyone there. In fact, he had come straight from the shrine to primary colored dragons before this meeting.

“Ok Birch. I’ll tell you what. If you can tell me the direction that the dragons went and what pulled them from the valley, I’ll let you work on this mystery with me.”

“This isn’t a choice Sir F-”

“Mother it’s okay. Let him respond.” Marigold was not happy to be silenced by her daughter. She crossed her arms in revolt but quieted down.

Birch nodded. He scanned the temple, first with his eyes. The temple is not massive. It is only a dragon or two wide in the first place, and in the 300 years since its creation, it has gotten even smaller. Dragons seem to have a knack for destroying things that are built on the land they see as theirs. It cannot be accurately estimated how long the temple took to construct because the work could only be done when the dragons were away for the day before they came back at night to sleep. There were never exactly walls in the temple. There were, however, a few more when it was first built. The builders added extra support columns considering the destructive nature of a dragon.

The young Rabiculan then walked outside. The valley is wide, but not wide enough that you can’t see the high points on each side. It is not quite long enough to where the ends are unable to be seen. He looked up at the borders of the valley. He lifted the grass and threw it into the air. He felt the scorch marks on one of the columns. Honorable and Big H sat there perplexed. What was this child doing? Iris and Marigold were not phased. They’d seen the boy’s process before. Faldor looked on with intent.

He took a piece of wood out of his pocket that he’d shaped into a semi-circle and seemed to compare it to the sky. This intrigued Faldor. This child may be out of his mind. He strayed a notable distance from the temple and didn’t return for a few minutes.

“Does he often do this?” Asked Faldor.

“The boy is smart,” said Iris. “He sees things that I nor anyone in my palace can see. If he had the capacity to rule, he would be honor guard over me. And Sir Faldor,” she lowered her tone, speaking to Faldor as sincerely as a Rabiculan has ever spoken to a Dunkishman. “I know this is not something you care to hear, but the boy idolizes you. He has meticulously combed through every account of your cases and looks to you like he looks to the gods.” Faldor’s assistant transcribed all of his escapades straight from his mouth. He does not like to spend his own money and therefore does not have a very good assistant. She is unable to copy down the tales that Faldor tells her in a timely manner, hence Birch’s need to meticulously comb through them.

Birch returned, pocketing the many pieces of equipment that he’d brought out to study the valley. He stepped through two original columns and stood back at the right hand of his honor guard. He did not speak. He was waiting for permission.

“Please Birch,” said Iris. “Share your findings with Sir Faldor.”

“Yes, my lady. The dragons exited the valley to the south.” He spoke matter of factly as if he was stating his own name. Faldor did not make a move. He studied the young man, looking past his eyes and into his mind. Faldor was not a mage, but he has been confused for one on many occasions.

“And how did you come to that conclusion?” He asked.

“The dragons do not tend to fly at night time. It is a well-documented fact that they do not fly after sundown because they cannot see where they are flying. It is documented that the moon has shrouded the sun three times in the last three hundred years. During each of these periods, the dragons were observed flying into valley walls before giving up and returning to the ground. I have an acute memory of the valley walls through pure observation and all the paintings that hang in the palace. The dragons disappeared at night. There are new markings on the valley walls on either side, all at the south of the temple.”

Faldor paused while he considered the evidence. He was impressed. Birch was indeed very smart. He reasoned his way through and he’d come to the correct answer, but he had not come to a complete answer.

“Very good Birch, but that was not full the question. I asked you to find the direction they left and what pulled them from the valley.”

Birch’s lips began to turn downward, but quickly corrected himself and stood resolute once again. The moment came and left in a snap and it seemed that most didn’t notice. He was now worried that Faldor would not be impressed with his abilities or his meager control over his emotion. “I’m sorry sir, but I am not sure what pulled them from the valley.”

“I see,” Faldor nodded slowly. “And what was that you were doing with these instruments?”

“Well, sir, I was not entirely sure if my hypothesis was correct. I wanted to check my work. These instruments are something I developed to help confirm my assumptions. This one measures angles very accurately. The angle of the average dragon launch is common knowledge. I was able to determine the path the dragons would have taken from their usual resting place near the temple. This one is just an extendable stick I use to read it more accurately.”

Faldor put his hand up to alert the young mystery solver to stop. “I can honestly say I’m impressed. And as his Big H-ness over here will tell you, that doesn’t happen often.” Faldor waited eagerly for Big H to respond.

“Yeah,” said Big H apprehensively. “It’s quite a compliment.”

The boy smiled. “Thank you Sir Faldor. That is quite an honor.”

“And you say you are unsure as to what pulled the dragons from the valley?” Said Faldor.

“Yes sir. I may be able to figure it out with a more in-depth study of-”

“That’s okay son,” said Faldor. “If we’re going to be working together I’m gonna need you to speak only when I ask you to speak, is that clear?”

“Yes sir.” His smile returned again.

“Ok good, because I know exactly what pulled the dragons from the valley, and you’re going to help me figure out who it was.”

“Thank you, sir.” He looked to his honor guard like a proud son. He had climbed the first step to his dream- working with the greatest mystery solver in recorded history. He had been talking about Faldor’s accolades nonstop for as long as he could remember.

“Ok,” said Faldor. “I think that’s enough from the peanut gallery. Come, Birch. I’ll show you to your room and we can get to work in the morning.”

Birch was taken aback. “That is fine sir. I can make the journey across the valley each day. I would prefer to stay in my own room.”

“Afraid not son,” Faldor said as he stretched his way to his feet. “I can’t have you sharing any information about this case while it goes on.”

“It is fine, Sir Faldor,” said Iris. “I will keep a close eye on your new ward.”

“Apologies my lady, but it is not up for debate. An open case cannot be manipulated by outside forces if it is to be solved at all. Your man will be with me the entire time so you know I did not adjust the results and the reverse as well. Now if you’d please, a mystery is better left to those who have had a goodnight’s sleep.”

Iris wanted with all her heart to object, but she was wise enough to know she couldn’t. The three noble Dunkishmen returned to their kingdom with a young travel companion that night, and for the first time in a long time, Faldor had a ward. For the first time ever, he had a Rabiculan ward.