War is Coming

Time frame: wartime

As Ragnar descended on the back of Ymat, Reeve Bertie stood patiently at the front of the camp, awaiting their arrival. His eyes scanned the horizon until he spotted the familiar figure of Ragnar, accompanied by the majestic Ymat.

Not long after, Qedren landed nearby, screeching angrily at Ragnar. The fiery creature flapped its wings and let out a stream of disapproving growls. Ragnar glanced at Qedren with a lazy smirk.

"Oh, Qedren, we would have plenty of time to play tomorrow," Ragnar said in a relaxed tone. "No need to be so talkative, my young friend. Save your energy for now."

Qedren huffed and puffed, clearly dissatisfied with Ragnar's response. Nevertheless, the dragon reluctantly settled down, keeping a wary eye on Ragnar as he made his way toward Reeve.

As Ragnar dismounted from Ymat's back, he approached Qedren with a fond smile. He reached out and gently rubbed the shiny greenish scales on the top of Qedren's head.

Qedren, the offspring of Ymat and Rersiat, the Eater Of Sheep, had inherited his mother's courage and agility.

Although Qedren's father, Rersiat, the Eater of Sheep, was known for his lazy demeanor, Ragnar had high hopes for the young dragon. He believed that Qedren would grow up to be a formidable attacking dragon.

Currently, the attacking dragon was held by Ryzzid, the Champion Of The Red, whom his younger brother, Uzuna, rode.

Reeve saluted Ragnar respectfully. "Your Highness."

Ragnar contemplated the situation. "Would you like to undertake a reconnaissance mission?" he asked, curiosity gleaming in his eyes.

Reeve nodded firmly. "Yes, Your Highness."

Ragnar considered joining them on the expedition. "I will accompany you."

Reeve politely interjected, "Your Highness, it might be best if we maintain a low profile. Ymat's presence could draw unwanted attention."

Ragnar understood the rationale. "But someone must ensure Qedren's safety."

Reeve reassured him, "There's no need, Your Majesty. It's wiser for us to avoid drawing too much notice. Besides, with Ostrill weakened and depleted of supplies, I will scout the Newside area as well. They might have sought refuge there."

Ragnar acknowledged Reeve's insight. "Very well. Return immediately if the situation turns perilous. Additionally, ensure our troops swiftly make their way to Clearport. Remind them not to grow complacent amidst the apparent calmness here."

Reeve bowed once more, expressing his dedication. "Yes, Your Majesty."

With a swift motion, Reeve mounted Qedren. The young dragon hesitated briefly before leaping into the air, showcasing its remarkable agility.

Roman Toukan approached and saluted Ragnar before tending to Ymat's needs. Roman, the rider of Byzzorys, the Warmheart, was known for his imposing stature and thickly-scaled dragon that was virtually impervious to harm.

Roman possessed a serene demeanor, unperturbed by disturbances. Despite his intimidating appearance, he remained calm and passive.

He found solace in tasks that involved minimal interaction with others, preferring to focus on his responsibilities in caring for the dragons, including the less glamorous duty of cleaning up after them.

To everyone's surprise, Roman didn't mind the work at all; in fact, he enjoyed it.

Ragnar entered the camp and discovered his friends sprawled in their beds, struggling to shake off the remnants of last night's heavy drinking.

Upon seeing Ragnar, Arnulph Varma and Rastislav Sawrahan hastily rose to their feet, blinking their bleary eyes as they attempted to regain their composure.

Though still in a semi-conscious state, they managed to muster a salute.

It was no surprise to Ragnar that Reeve had opted to venture out alone for reconnaissance. After all, his companions were clearly in no condition to accompany him, their revelry from the previous night still lingering in their minds and bodies.

As Ragnar removed his protective visor and tossed them onto the cramped bed, he noticed his younger brother, Uzana, lying leisurely with his hands folded behind his head, gazing up at the tent's ceiling.

"What happened to him?" Ragnar gestured towards Uzana, who wore a contented smile. He addressed his companions, "Arnulp, Rastislav, what's the reason behind his blissful expression?"

"It appears he has taken a liking to one of the healer girls, Your Majesty," Arnulp replied.

"Ragnar," Ragnar interjected firmly. "Here, I want to be called Ragnar."

"Yes, Your Majesty, Ragnar," Arnulp corrected himself.

"Which healer girl has captured his attention?" Ragnar inquired.

"The fierce and rebellious one," Rastislav responded.

"There are two fierce ones there," Ragnar remarked.

"Why?" Uzana lifted his head slightly from the pillow, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Are you afraid that I might fancy the same girl as you? Our tastes are similar, but I know how to win women's hearts. Perhaps that's what concerns you."

Ragnar let out a sigh. Uzana's words struck a chord of truth. In the past, the girls they acquired from traders seemed to favor Uzana. Though they couldn't speak, Ragnar could discern it in their eyes.

"The women here possess such eloquent tongues and exhibit various skills. They can be quite difficult to manage when empowered," Rastislav expressed his discontent. "Perhaps we can request a girl without a tongue in the future?"

Ragnar concurred with Rastislav's sentiment.

"On the contrary, I am starting to appreciate their voices. They possess a mellifluous charm that is delightful to hear," Arnulph remarked, his imagination painting a picture of enchanting and lovely healer girls.

"The healer girls here are beautiful and rare to find in Gamaaloth. And if by chance they were available, their value would be equivalent to two mountains," Arnulph added.

"Well said!" Uzana agreed with Arnulph's sentiments.

"Girls as stunning as them should not be sent to the battlefield. What if they meet an unfortunate fate? It would be a tragedy to lose them. It would be wiser for them to remain in the safety of their chambers, and I shall serve them diligently," Arnulph spoke with a tinge of sorrow in his voice.

"Absolutely!" Uzana seconded.

Ragnar also found himself nodding in agreement. It was ironic that girls as beautiful and sweet as those in the healer clan had to undertake such perilous and demanding tasks. Their delicate and fragile forms deserved to be cherished and protected.

"But this is Cescil, not Gamaaloth," Uzana remarked.

In Cescil, it appeared that the abundance of women made them seem invaluable. However, it was undeniable that the Healer clan consisted of the most stunning girls they had ever laid eyes upon.

"Perhaps it is due to their elven heritage. Their slender bodies, delicate features, and radiant faces are a testament to their beauty," Ragnar murmured absentmindedly, unknowingly picturing Sophia in his mind.

"Hmm, my dear brother seems to be smitten as well. Let me guess, you fancy Lady Sophia, the leader of the Healer clan," Uzana taunted Ragnar

.

Ragnar's expression turned sour. How did Uzana know?

"You've always been drawn to girls with doe-like eyes. She fits your preference," Uzana remarked.

"However, her personality is not to my liking," Ragnar calmly replied.

"Well then, why not ask King Arthur to remove her tongue?" Uzana laid back down, resuming his daydreaming with a mischievous smile.

"However, I prefer them to have tongues. Their unexpected remarks can be quite intriguing. Besides, they can serve as a means of passing the time when boredom strikes. I enjoy engaging in debates with them," Uzana added.

"What about when you're overwhelmed?" Arnulph inquired. "It could become quite bothersome if they persistently nag us when our minds are preoccupied."

"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. I have yet to figure out how to handle a Cescil woman who possesses both a tongue and the ability to fight back. So far, we have always been given women without tongues who are defenseless," Uzana grinned.

His two companions supported his endeavor. "Please enlighten us when you succeed, Your Highness!"

"Very well, my obedient students. I shall impart my wisdom upon you once I have accomplished the feat," Uzana chuckled proudly.

Ragnar's gaze wandered to the tent door, and his eyes were drawn to the vast expanse of the sky above.

As he stared intently, a flicker of something caught his attention—a distant and radiant flash resembling the brilliance of lightning. It appeared for only a fleeting moment, almost imperceptible to the naked eye.

"Uzana," Ragnar's voice echoed with urgency. "Summon Roman and gather the dragons here. Then, you must swiftly fly to Newside. Retrieve Reeve and Qedren immediately."

Uzana turned towards Ragnar, his brows furrowing in concern. "What has transpired? Did you witness something suspicious?"

"Reeve and Qedren ventured alone to surveil the Ostrill and Newside camps," Ragnar explained, his voice filled with a mix of worry and uncertainty.

"Yet, as I gazed upon the sky, I sensed a fleeting presence, a glimpse of something unknown. It may have been an iron spear arrow. I shall station myself at the border with Ymat, awaiting your return alongside Reeve."

Understanding the gravity of the situation, Uzana swiftly dashed towards the resting place of the dragons near the cliff's edge, his steps determined and resolute.

Turning to his remaining comrades, Ragnar's gaze held a steely resolve. "Arn and Rast, wash your faces and prepare yourselves. Join Roman in guarding Clearport. Await my signal. Inform General Pyndale and Lady Sophia to remain vigilant."

Without hesitation, Arn and Rast sprang to their feet, their sense of duty driving them toward their assigned tasks.

Luckily, Roman and Ymat were not too far away. Roman and Uzana rushed to prepare their dragons, while Ragnar immediately mounted Ymat and prepared to head towards the war border to ensure Reeve and Qedren were safe.

**