Echo of the Dragon

As all the Royal children once did, Angie resided in the Princeling Tower, A small but heavily fortified neck that once looked up to the Mighty blue of the Heartland summer skies, but now peered at only the scarred ashen grey of the wounded heavens. This tower was short, historied to be draped with the four banners of the King's children.

The Quadruple curse the Peasantry would call it, a hex on all who were born of Dragon-blood, but Evangeline knew better, for when she was just a little tyke her Great Father, Uthyr of Aurom; the Golden Dragon whispered into her ear.

"We of the Royal house were not born as kings, but as anointed warriors. In the days of the First Aeon, came the Clash of the Seven and the One, where the Revered houses fought under Moon and Sun against the Tyrant king Vortiger. Chief among them was a slave boy, mocked as George the Regalia, a handsome boy with Golden hair, stained black by mud and soot from the forge.

Like many of the Royally owned slaves of the Capital, George was sold at birth, he and his family damned to build a Palace that would please the Tyrant King, Vortigern the First. However, while at his lowest, with no more family to warm his numb fingers and no friends to shield his heart from grief George turned to the Saints. He said seven prayers, for Seven Months, drinking from the seven wells that he and his companions suckled from, his words stirring the magical races, Human and Non-human tasked with building the castle. Do you know what happened next little bird?"

She heard a voice answer, small but hungry to see her father's approving smile.

"The Saints answered!" She cried.

"Aye, that is right. Forthwith came the arms of the Goddess herself, the Seven saints, each laying a hand on the heads of each of George's companions, infusing their souls with divinity. And Thus the First of the Revered houses were reborn, not as man, or elf, or giant, or dwarf, but as Holy fragments; who would follow their leader into the doom of war; a man strong and proud enough to take mockery as his own, George Regis, the Dragonslayer.

After years of bloodshed and liberation from the mythic beasts that the Vortiger commanded with tainted magic, the First Seven stood victorious.

But of course all Victory has a price child. The Holy blood that ran in each of the Seven's veins made them incredibly fertile, creating litters to segment their dynasty. But with a Whisper dripping with Black magic, the Vortiger Cursed the name of Regis, thence forth declaring that the seed could birth no more than Four offspring, Two steeped in light, and the others lurking in darkness, so that the bonds of Family and love would be all too easily broken."

The Princess mourned this story, almost as much as her own father, after the sickness took him away, not because of the sadness of it, but the truth of it. Because when the Princess descended the Princeling tower steps, she saw only her own banner hanging from the walls, alone and solitary, the bonds of family and love, broken for far too long.

Together with Sir Waylon Marquis, Angie descended the stairway down towards the Palace's center foyer. The Princess did not often roam the Princeling tower, its emptiness was foreign and upsetting to her. Where once it had been filled with the spiteful little laugh of her sister, Princess Morganna and the quiet warmth of... her little brother, with their personal handmaids and servantry bustling around, the laughs of the Golden Garrison, their Royal guards as they played dice in at their stations to pass the time when Chamberlain Henrietta wasn't looking, the shaken little Marshalnder Lady marching around, anxious that a bedpan had not been filled to warm their beds, worrying that the cooks had neglected to fill their plates... although they never did.

Now, the Princeling tower was empty, the hearths of the empty quarters cold and unlit, the Guardsmen that she grew up with were long gone, either stripped of their rank or executed for their loyalty to Lord Ozwuld and her Father... Evangeline slept in the coffin of her childhood, and had little desire to explore how tightly locked in she was.

Marquis followed Evangeline down the spiraling stairs, past great murals of pitch black and ash white, depicting the Image of the Bone-Dragon soaring through a starless sky, where once the Gold, Black and Lilac of the Regis once soared in the air.

They arrived at the bottom of the stairs, and followed a grand hallway, made of tall arches of pale milkglass and beautiful gleaming marble, although at certain pastures, one would see the dark obsidian patches where the Palace had been assaulted by... that thing, Mordred so poorly hid away.

So much had been destroyed on the Day of Atrocity, including the faith of those who served under the Regis.

The Halls were endlessly busy, fierce battalions of Soldiers in dirty Grey and white plate marched by silently, their cloaks bellowing behind as their commander led the battalion, although the man in front would often halt at her presence and bow with a low respect "Most Gracious Highness, at your Service." They would grumble.

These were not men of Honour, not knights anointed by faith, they were little more than thugs, scooped up by Mordred's regime and intimidated into their militaristic purpose.

"Walk on, Commander. I need not your service." She spoke softly, although the spite in her tone could always be heard as she went on her way.

Servants passed however, halting and bowing in reverence of their princess "Princess Evangeline, a thousand good afternoons to thee!"

Angie smiled this time, and curtsied politely to Brown Ben Fredrick, tall and strong as he was, although crooked of nose, he had a pleasant smile, only slightly ruined by the soot that covered his face and apron from the Royal forge. "Good Afternoon, Benjamin, I hope you and your wife are well?"

He rubbed his calloused hands "Oh I am just grand, Your Highness. I see that you have forgone your full regalia once again today."

Angie tutted slightly "Good sir, it is rude to address a Princesses garments so directly"

"Of course, Your Highness, my apologies. Indeed I am well, although I cannot say the same for Missus Fredrick."

"Perhaps if you took as many baths as you did shifts crafting arms for the crown, then mayhaps her spirits would be lifted?" Angie spoke back playfully, although maintaining her royal stance and speech, high and powerful.

Brown ben rubbed the shot which stained his face gently "Aye I reckon she would your Highness. Although I too reckon if she would be given the honour of crafting for thee another one of your beautiful Night-gowns, then she may be sunnier than saints themselves before Weeks end."

"Will you never relent, Forgemaster?" Marquis said in exasperation.

Brown Ben grinned, making his stubbled face crease "If you'd heard the insistence of my wife to ask Her Highness to utilize her services, then I doubt even you would have the will to resist, Sir Marquis."

Angie stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on Ben's Wrist "Tell Goodwoman Fredrick I will meet with her on the morrow, I am growing tiresome of my many silks, surely as skilled a hand as hers could rectify that boredom?"

Ben grinned deeply, emanating with appreciation as He lowered himself "Thank you, Most Gracious Highness. I will let her know once my business with Knight-Captain Paravant and this new armour he acquisitioned, is done."

The Princess hid her frown and curtsied again "Good day, Sir."

"Likewise, Your Highness."

Marquis followed as she walked on, greeting the servants and cooks and maidens who walked by with a kind smile and gentle words "Are you well, You Highness." The Worn old Knight asked quietly as they descended the foyer stairway, passing under the great chandelier of antler and bone, gleaming with encrusted jewels and glowing with the flames that encircled it.

"I am fine." She said quickly.

Marquis seemed dissatisfied "With respect, Your Highness, I have known you since before you could fit on your saddle. Please, indulge an old man."

Angie halted at the bottom to the stairs, she looked around, she saw no urchins, no talking crows hidden above that were trained to listen and repeat the words they eves dropped on, nor any hidden persons, still it was not safe to speak openly "Does the Dragon sleep?" She whispered.

Marquis also peered but seemed satisfied enough to whisper in return "It has flown from it's lair towards fields of ice and snow."

Angie's brow jumped up in surprise, as she finally turned to face the old man, taking him gently the arm and walking him towards a more private shadowed corner "She's gone to the Snowlands? She would never go back there, not after all of that mess in Douglashold? Dragons never fly north, Marquis you know that"

Marquis shrugged "I tried to inquire with the Lady Paravant-"

"The Lady Speaker? pft, the lady silence you mean, That squabbling fool does nothing without Her Grace's word." Angie shook her head, putting her face in her hands "What kind of Lady-Protector does not even know when her Queen comes and goes?"

Marquis soured "Your Highness, We are not alone, they must not see your weakness."

"Piss on that." Evangeline spat, red in the face as she stood up tall and ridged like a strong oak "Find, Chamberlain Mont, tell her to gather the Council of the fist in the Throne room."

He saw the irritation in her eyes and so without a word bowed "At once, Your Highness."

Evangeline shook as she paced behind the splaying steps of the foyer staircase, thinking on why Edwyn would leave without giving her notice, and why North? What would she do this time? reduce another town to naught but ash, crush a regime which posed little threat but dared to defy her doctrine of madness? She took a vow to protect her home from Mordred's madness, so much had already been lost, forgotten, many innocents had died in the thousands and she refused to allow anymore blameless lives to be scattered on the wind and forgotten forever or shivering in fear, at the mercy of the hideous serpents that now plagued all of the Ninefold.

Although the Princess halted in her march of thought as her ears tingled, with the slightest of stimuli which teased a nefarious presence in the shadows behind her. "Lord Sparrow." She spoke, turning to stare into the hidden spot beneath one of the pillars.

Oozing from the shadows came a figure, draped in a long cloak of maroon red, his feet silent on the marble which he glided on like a ghost, his face masked with a visage of pitch black glass, with no holes for eyes, a blank, dark face with a long and ridged outward facing beak.

The Figure moved so deftly, and so cleanly that he almost appeared to float across the ground, his crimson cloak trailing behind him "You have always had a clarity of the senses as long as this one has known you, Your highness, it is truly fascinating." He spoke with a warm, gushing kind of tone, although trailed off unsettlingly at the end of each word as an echo in a derelict hall.

"Red-Sparrow." She spoke, the name tasting sour on her tongue "Perhaps I should take pride in deceiving A Vatan?" She said, doing nothing to hide her malice.

He bowed lowly, smoothly like a phantom or a mirage "Vatan Grandmaster, Your Highness, we must all take pride in something."

"Black-Crow never took pride in anything." Angie shot back "She was silent, until she was needed."

"As was Her duty, Princess. However, I am an altogether different beast, I fear. How this one is fascinated by your, Human, emotions, learning them was as simple as slipping on a glove, surely a fine trait for a Spymaster?"

"Fine is not the word I would use for the likes of you." She spoke with the voice of her mother, the She-griffin. "I will not be followed and I will not be eves dropped upon, have I not made this clear?"

"Deepest apologies, Your Highness, but this one finds it necessary, to mention that It had eyes and ears in every nook and every corner of this Palace. I merely responded out of interest to your beckoning of the Council of the Fist, and that this one may accompany you to the grand hall."

"I'd die first."

"Really? before revealing to you why Our Queen hath departed to the Snowlands?" He tilted his hooded head gently as Angie narrowed her eyes.

"Make it quick."

Spymaster Red-Sparrow was a Vatan of the East, like Black-Crow before him. It had been a a long standing tradition since the East and West came to an accord in the Venture Aeon hundreds... nearly thousands of years ago, that as a showing of their gratitude for Britannia's Knowledge on it's old magic, a thing alien and distant to them, the Emperor of Forever Spring would gift each ruler with one of his personal Vatan Assassins. These were masters of stealth, subterfuge, espionage, and due to their absolute obedience; serve or die, the Vatan given would be give the Role of Lord Spymaster.

Evangeline wondered on just what it took to create such a thing? Before Black-Crow, who had served Two Kings and Angie's Lord Uncle in her time before her vanishing, there had been a Vatan for each new King. Grey-Hawk the Silent, Yellow-hen the Trapper, Sage-Falcon who served Evangeline's Maternal House: the Tawny of High-Hawken. These were names that screamed not only fame, but also Infamy.

But the princess had a distinct dislike for this Spymaster. Crow was cold indeed but honest and straightforward Red-Sparrow was an eerie creature, with a whispering tone that mimicked personality, at time it seemed as if he were a normal man, he laughed at jokes and shared pleasantries with nobility, He even hummed when the Bards would strum their lutes and dance at feasts.

But in the Tower of the Fist, where Mordred's chief advisors would cower under her gaze and nod at every heartless affair she brewed up, Sparrow showed a special conviction for his cruel nature, expanding on Edwyn's twisted ideas. He was a 'Gift' she often wished to return.

Evangeline realized quickly that she had been walking in silence, with Sparrow walking quietly beside her "Her Majesty always informs me before she leaves, this is a trying time, Lord Sparrow, She made her concern over the empty seat on the council apparent. Why would a Queen leave the Throne cold without a Lord Protector to warm it?" Angie spoke frankly.

The Ridged mask of the Spymaster turned slowly to face the Princess, and eyeless, mouthless and soulless as it was, Angie understood and her legs seemed to seize up.

Like a statue, she stood petrified as the realization came crashing down on her "Oh." She muttered.

Lord Sparrow approached Her Highness, reaching into his cloak with a hand gloved in black silk. The Letter that he withdrew had a wax seal, stamped with Dragon bones; this was written by Mordred herself. Sparrow knelt on one knee and offered it to her officially "From her Majesty, Princess. Written in the late hours of the night when she departed in haste."

Angie took it with nervous hands, breaking the seal to reveal the parchment, inked with Wyn's neat and graceful hand.

"Sweet sister.

Doubtless you waltz through the hall towards the Throne room in late morning, clucking like a hen and strutting around like a Peacock to figure out where I have gone.

I write this letter in confidence of Lord Sparrow to deliver it unspoiled, and of you to ensure that no eyes other than yours shall read these words.

Last night, Our Lord Spymaster's spiders caught wind of movements in the North. These are a grim omen, Vangie, and if my suspicions are correct, then the Rumors of a second rebellion being born in the north are not as much here-say as I originally predicted..."

Evangeline frowned deeply, Britannia had felt true suffering under King Henry the Hysterical and his Tyrannical rule, bringing down the hammer of tax and death upon the Mud-borne peasantry, spreading fear and murder across all Nine Kingdoms... he commanded armies of the worst men Britannia had to offer, Infamous generals who washed the land in innocent blood; Bill the Butcher, The Screamer of Hornhill who filled the horizon with the wails of his victims, and of course, The Black Iron Bitch a breaker of wedlock, a symbol of such ferocity, shame and dishonor, that Her name was cursed forevermore.

But Mordred the Vortiger, the Harbinger of Atrocity, the Dread Queen offered a much greater threat than the insidiousness of mere men. With the bloody return of King Uthyr's Bastard daughter, the Last of House Vortigern, came a day so foul; filled with such horror that to this very day, the Skies above the Capital of Camelot were forever scarred. The Capital wounded and torn, it's once beautiful architecture repaired hastily with ugly black stone from a foreign land... and the entire country plagued with the Thousands of scaled beasts, barely leashed by 'Her Majesty' as they infested all nine Kingdoms like a scaled disease.

There had been a rebellion once before, a Year into Mordred's Regency in the Blacklands to the Northwest headed by the Ducal lords who governed those honourless lands with might and cruelty, Lady Mont hailed from one of those three houses... as venomous as the woman was, she and Her Father were the last of her line, a mercy considering just how unpredictably cruel the Queen could be.

Angie continued.

"...I will not allow these cretins to soil our order, unrest rules enough as it is with Lord August's departure from his seat as Lord Protector.

It seems that my line of trust grows thinner day and night, sweet sister. As much as you pretend to play the adoring sister, I know your true feelings on my methods. But we must work together to keep order, you know this as much as I, and I know that in your heart, you desire to care and protect our people more than anything in this world.

The time has come Vangie. No more hiding amongst the dragon lilies and talking to rabbits in the Royal Gardens, I am leaving the Throne in your care, as it's Lady Protector. Go with Faith sweet sister... and be sure to bring a cushion, the bastard thing gets uncomfortable at a surprisingly hasty rate.

With all my love.
Your Mordred."

The Princesses arm went limp, the letter crumpling in her strong fingers.

"Your Highness?" The Lord Spymaster inquired gently.

Blood rushed to her Highnesses head, clogging the words in her throat and making her eyes go wide, as she felt the weight of the task ahead on her shoulders.

"Princess Evangeline, be ye well?"

The Words seemed to sober the Princess slightly, even as the memory of her Uncle filled her mind... His power, his prowess, his fall. Before her Lord Augustus Paravant the August sat a the Council's Great Finger, the head of Queen's ten councilors who each had a part to play in governing the Nine kingdoms. The Lord Protector sat in proxy of the Ruler in their absence... Angie had gone from a Princess who would visit the Mud-born, hearing their pleads, giving them what little comfort she could, for longer than the Sun was up she'd pass out food to the starving while the sun was down, and with each whisper of the horror Queen Mordred committed, Angie would lose three score an hour of sleep.

But now... Now, Evangeline could do some good, some real good, Mordred was gone at least for a while, maybe a month or three at the least. Angie felt a burst of energy, a cool wave of motivation "Come, Spymaster, do not fall behind."