>>5830757The Paladin Prince, heir to the throne, went missing. Security measures came and went, tightened and loosened and tightened again. Rumours circulated about coming war between the North and South—not a trade war, or a war of words, but REAL war—the sort where men-at-arms and even mages with combat training would be drafted. There were conspiracies, and revelations of traitorous agents of (allegedly Southman-supported) domestic demon-cults…
Just like there had been around the era of Izirina’s creation.
“What is HAPPENING?” you asked your wall angrily one night, without Izzy or Zith-Zi for company or consultation, and with Pearce running drills.
None of Muffins’ three heads could answer you, of course, though stroking his fur—even idly tracing the snake’s scales—brought you some comfort.
The Exorcist from Afar married the Princess and, in a bit of bright news that seemed to cheer the city and clear its haze of dread, they left on a grand honeymoon tour: a hero and his bride.
And then… Dragons.
“Dragons?!” you balked.
“That’s what they say,” whispered your father, who had invited you and Pearce to speak with him. He was older, greyer, but his eyes sparkled with a strange exhilaration. “Didn’t I tell you, ey wot? An era of adventure, in our own lifetimes!”
“I wish it would wait for the next poor sap,” Logan remarked, his hand idly rising to where the arrow had pierced his chest so many years ago.
You rested a hand upon his arm, and he calmed slightly. Your father, however, did not: Rudolfo Van Houtzmann would not be contained that evening.
“Imagine it!” he gushed. “A battle against foreign hordes, dead dragons… A true test of mettle, a time when LEGENDS are born!”
“Or die,” you noted sourly.
“I hope Efron is alright, wherever that cocky little shit is,” Pearce said.
“And Zith-Zi?”
“Her too,” he admitted, tilting his head. “but, come on, it’s Zeezee we're talking about. She’ll be fine.”
“She hates when you call her that,” you noted.
“That’s why I do it,” he said, with a small smirk, “Tips.”
Despite your father’s enthusiasm and your friend’s attempts at levity, the autumn brought no comfort—just fire on the horizon, and smoke and ash on the wind.
And then the plague began.