Instruction (2)

With a puzzled frown, Nikolai gazed down at the child on his lap. Since he acceded to Jarek's demand for a story, his apprentice gathered the Suzdal children in a half circle before the hammock and he was met with expectant stares brimming with excitement. His neck began to ache while looking down, so he joined them on the ground with a soft grunt, his knees creaking a little as he crossed his legs. His injuries from Galicia were healed, and the increased vitality from the changes in his blood should have made his bones stronger, but Nikolai still felt the strain sometimes.

Before he could open his mouth, little Satalia clambered onto his leg and gripped his coat while looking up at him.

"'Ory!" She demanded.

"Yes, I'm getting to that." Nikolai replied and awkwardly gripped her hand to release it from his coat. [Why is it so sticky?]. He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped her fingers while surveying the children. Seeing Jarek's eager expression, he decided on a tale and began. "Did you know Arkhangelsk is a Magical place?"

"It's filled with the pointy-ear's houses!" One child raised her hand and shouted.

"Illyri remnants, yes." Nikolai blinked at the girl's smug expression. "But long before we Imperials or the Illyri colonised these lands, this was the home of Dragons." Nikolai twisted his free hand and wisps of fire formed crude Dragons to twist around his arm. The children gasped, leaning away from the flames even though they produced no heat. Jarek squinted and murmured under his breath, his eyes lighting up with a flare of Magic as he activated his Sight. [He's such a good apprentice, taking every chance to learn.]

"Now, back in those days, Dragons were the most powerful beings below the Divine and held free rein over the world. There was little that could stand in their way. Except their own kind of course." Satalia reached out to grab the little Dragons, and he twisted his wrist again so the little flames around his wrist dissipated. "Don't touch fire, Satalia. Arkhangelsk lies on a series of Magical veins which served as a comfortable home. So many Dragon tribes settled down in the area, carving mountains out of the earth and great swamplands to live in. Do you know the different types of Dragons?"

"Green, Red, Purple and umm…." The girl from earlier trailed off in confusion.

"Gold, Silver and Bronze." Jarek added.

"And many more." Nikolai concluded. "Your Aunt Elya defeated a Purple Dragon to earn her title as a Dragonslayer, but back when they ruled the world, only Gold and Red Dragons existed. The rest are evolutionary branches which came about due to interbreeding and elemental mutations over the span of a few Millennia…" He cleared his throat at the incomprehension on their faces and continued. "Well, what's important is that only Gold and Red Dragon's existed and they hated each other. We don't know why, but the two tribes were constantly at war. Their battles spanned continents, reshaping the land on an almost daily basis, but there was no conclusion to their fights. Sometimes the Red Dragons won and conquered a continent for a few centuries before a wave of Gold Dragons came to take it back. Nonetheless, after many years of conflict, a Gold Dragon by the name of Teleth was born." Jarek flinched at the name and Nikolai smiled at his reaction.

"Actually his name is almost impossible to pronounce for us Imperials, so we just refer to him as Teleth. This particular Dragon was an awe-inspiring creature, unmatched by his peers and feared by his enemies. The ancient records say his wings cast shadows for miles, and his fangs were as tall as trees. When he breathed fire, forests would vanish and his prowess was so incredible only the eldest Red Dragon's could face him in battle. In a few decades he led his people to victory after victory, conquering huge swaths of land and far more important, holding it. All of a sudden the deadlock between the tribes was broken and the Red Dragons were on the verge of extinction, retreating deep into their last few strongholds and fortifying them with terrifying Magic. In their fear, the Red Dragons scrambled for any way to turn the tides and they eventually found one." Nikolai paused and met the breathless stares of the children. "With the Divine."

The children shrieked in fear and huddled closer together, his own Will of the True Imperial howling at the mention of Gods. Satalia snuggled deeper into his arms and grabbed his coat again.

"No one knows which God answered their prayers, but the Divine miracle it brought about led to the birth of the Illyri. Using the Red Dragons as a conduit, they uplifted the native species of Arkhangelsk to become powerful warriors infused to the core with tides of Magic. Their very voices shook the foundations of reality and even though they were weak individually, Illyri choirs created massive spellsongs to protect their new master's fortresses."

"You're saying the Illyri were born here and were created by unknown Gods to serve the Dragons?" Terebov gasped, eyes swimming in surprise. "I've never heard of such a thing."

The children growled at the interruption, and Nikolai placated them with a few gestures before answering. "It's not something anyone wants to admit, but all beings that walk this world are fragments of the Divine. Whether it's the Illyri, Imperials, Humans, Dragons, Orcs; any of the great races for that matter; somewhere in their ancestry is the intervention of a God. But that's a story for another time. As I was saying, the Illyri became the lynchpin in the Red Dragon's counter offensive, their songs changing the way the war was waged. Many Gold Dragons fell, and even the great Teleth suffered multiple defeats. Of course, seeing the benefit the Illyri brought, the Gold Dragons prayed, but unlike the Reds they received no response. There was no miracle for them. The greatest historians and theologians have tried to decipher why the Gods favoured one tribe and not the other, especially since Priesthood of Gold was formed shortly thereafter. Whatever the reason, they were abandoned and lost the war. In a matter of months the surviving Golds were hunted for sport."

Nikolai pointed to the west, and he chuckled as all eyes followed his outstretched finger. Even Seven was staring at the mountains with a quizzical expression.

"Teleth, of course, survived. Hunted though he was, no one could pin him down. He fled from one trap to the next, catching rest on barren battlefields hidden amongst the bodies of his pursuers.

With each battle he grew stronger.

More vicious.

Angrier.

Imagine. You're the one of the last few of your tribe. Your enemies and their minions overwhelming your comrades and you're powerless to do anything about it.

The great Gold Dragon was driven insane by his rage and in his madness he charged towards the birthplace of the Illyri: The Red's Fortress at Arkhangelsk. In a flash of twisted of space he tore through the barriers, his fiery breath crippling the mighty spellsongs and his claws tearing his enemies to shred with every beat of his wings. The fortress crumbled in minutes and Teleth reached out with all his powers, destroying the very fabric that holds the world together and reaching… beyond. Demons and Deities tried to crawl through the cracks he created, but his power held them at bay. An Illyri choir chanted in desperation to mend the damage but it just served to infuriate Teleth and he grasped at some power from the heavens and pulled it into our world. Divinity infused his body, healing his terrible wounds and strengthening him even further. Teleth tore across the sky, disappearing from the wreckage of the great fortress. In a few seconds he crossed what's now the province of Volhiniya and crashed into a great mountain just south of Konstanz. The Divine power was overwhelming him, and Teleth roared as he felt the power slowly changing him. He heard the voices of the Gods and they begged him to stop his rampage, explaining why the Gold Dragons had to perish. They showed him the future, but Teleth just laughed at them, miserable at his powerlessness. Their designs meant nothing to him, and he used the Divinity he gathered to banish their presences outside of this continent. With a hundred drops of his blood, he uplifted the Human race. All but one drop of blood was scattered across the world, raising hundred thousands of Humans who immediately waged war on the Red Dragons and their Illyri servants. The final drop of his blood raised ten powerful Humans and bound them to him. These were the first Dragon Lords, bound by blood to their creator and the foundation of Teleth's future power."

"The Great Dragon protects!" Jarek cheered, cheeks flushed and arms waving furiously in the air.

"Exactly. Long before we Imperials escaped from our Gods, Teleth used the Dragon Lords to cast a great Magic on this continent, hindering the forces of the Divine. That Magic was called the Shroud: a great barrier forged from the heart of humans and protected by the oath of the Dragon Lords. Unfortunately, the great Magic took a toll on him. Little of his original body remained entire limbs having disintegrated under the Divine power, but his Magic succeeded. It's what allowed the First Emperor to join with the Illyri sages and forge the covenant and shatter our God's power. As long as a single Dragon Lord lives, the Gods cannot step onto our land and Teleth remains even now, a broken shell that makes the Gods tremble in fear. He surveys the land and protects it from Divine intervention."

Nikolai smiled at the awed children gaping at a proud Jarek. "Well, that story might have been a little too much for you all. How about something lighter? This particular story is called the rabbit invasion of House Morales: When I was around your age I had problems controlling my Magic and on a day much like this one, my father punished me because I'd accidentally set fire to one of my mothers favourite dresses. It wasn't actually my fault. My new tutor was determined to teach me Imperial etiquette, and I wasn't interested, so I snuck away from my lessons but ended up in Mother's garden…"