Chapter 34
In the shadow of Albion's distant shore, Mordred and Aldric stood, their friendship marred by a rift as vast as the churning sea that separated them from the kingdom's enigmatic heart. Mordred, once a loyal comrade, was now consumed by an insatiable curiosity, drawn by an unshakable desire to unveil the mysteries of his lineage. Albion called to him, a siren's song beckoning him towards the truth.
Mordred pacing in a contemplative
manner, "Albion holds the secrets of my birth, Aldric. I must go there, to find answers.
Aldric, a bare escapee of these lands, his countenance marked by the scars of a past he rarely spoke of, countered his friend's resolve.
Aldric replied with caution, "Mordred, you tread on treacherous ground. Albion is a place where death dances in the shadows, and I barely escaped its grasp once.
The wedge of their dissonance grew as Aldric, unable to bear the weight of his friend's determination, bade his farewell with a solemn warning.
"I cannot follow you on this path. I have no wish to return to that dangerous castle.
Mordred, torn between the bond of brotherhood and the pull of destiny, watched Aldric fade into the horizon. His heart was heavy, but his resolve remained unshaken.
Mounting Vhamor, the ancient dragon that had accompanied him on his journey, they took to the skies. The winds whispered secrets only Mordred could decipher, leading them back to Poseidon's Watch, a remote outpost that guarded the threshold to Albion seas.
Vhamor's roar shattered the tranquility of the outpost, and Mordred's eyes widened in terror as the Sylverian defenders, king Erevan's men, attacked. A spear grazed Vhamor's wing, and the dragon's fiery wrath was unleashed upon those who had dared to threaten them.
Mordred screamed desperately, "No, Vhamor stop!
But Vhamor's fiery breath turned the Sylverian men into naught but ash and bone. Mordred, burdened by the cost of his journey, dismounted the dragon and found a horse, riding with haste towards the distant castle of Albion.
As he neared the castle, the trail was littered with the corpses of those who had dared to challenge king Erevan's ascension. Blood stained the path, and dread clung to the air.
Approaching the castle gates, Mordred sought to sneak in, unnoticed by the ever-watchful guards. Yet, his furtive efforts were in vain. The vigilant palace guards confronted him.
A guard sternly retorted, "Halt! Who goes there?
Mordred, heart pounding with apprehension, attempted to flee, but fate intervened in the form of a dragon keeper, resolute in the defense of one who had tamed a dragon.
"Leave him be! He's no threat to Albion.
With the dragon keeper's intercession, Mordred escaped capture, gaining a fleeting chance to uncover the enigmatic truth hidden within the ancient walls of Albion.
Mordred, grateful for the intervention of the Middle aged dragon keeper, offered a sincere thanks before his attention was drawn to the elderly figure who had entered the room. The aged dragon keeper regarded Mordred with a scrutinizing gaze and inquired about his identity and the purpose of his quest.
Mordred, with a tone of conviction, revealed his name and the driving force behind his journey. He spoke of Vhamor, the old dragon, and his desire to unearth the truth of his birth, a quest that had led him to these hallowed halls.
The elderly dragon keeper, his eyes harboring a glint of recognition, leaned forward, his voice weighted with significance as he uttered a name.
The elderly Dragon Keeper then asked a question. "Perhaps boy, do you perchance know of an old knight, exiled to the woods, forsaken in service?
Mordred, with a touch of memory, acknowledged the description.
"I do. I know him, infact he's my father, I spend my days only with him growing up. What is the meaning of this?
The elderly man, without delay, bowed his head low, and, with a commanding presence, compelled the younger dragon keeper to follow suit. Mordred, bewildered by this sudden display of respect, demanded an explanation.
"Why do you bow? What does this signify?
The elderly dragon keeper raised his head, his eyes filled with a mixture of reverence and solemnity.
The old man with deep respect stated "You are more than you know. You are the firstborn son of King Gawain and Queen Vivian, the true heir to the throne.
Mordred, his heart thundering with newfound knowledge, listened as the old man recounted the circumstances surrounding his birth. He learned of the reasons behind his banishment, a consequence of his latent dragon blood and the absence of the coveted dragon mark. The old king had been obsessed with the notion of securing a male heir bearing the dragon mark, leading to Mordred's exile.
The elderly dragon keeper spoke of Mordred's younger sister, Lysanna, whom the gods had chosen, gracing her with the dragon mark. As Mordred inquired about her whereabouts, the elderly man expressed his ignorance but provided insight into the location of their mother, now the lady Vivian.
Disturbed and confused, Mordred with a firm resolve of determination replied, "I must find them, for the truth of my birth and the destiny that awaits me.
The elderly dragon keeper revealed that he had faithfully served three kings, including King Gawain and his ill-fated son, Edmund. He also mentioned a majestic king, Mordred's grandfather, to whom he had pledged an unbreakable oath of service for generations. It was this oath that led him to save Queen Vivian from the wrath of King Erevan, the usurper of the throne
"you young one, are the true king by right. But the realm needs you alive, if there is to be any hope of restoring justice.
The weight of responsibility pressed upon Mordred's shoulders, and the path to his destiny, now illuminated by truth, beckoned him with both promise and peril.