The Queen began walking toward the side opposite to where they had entered. A massive knight from the Order of Damaroth followed a few meters behind her. Kalen deduced that he was the royal bodyguard.

  The knight was clad in full plate armor, finely ornamented, especially at the shoulders. Over the armor, he wore black surcoats with silver heraldry in the center: a platinum helmet pierced by a sword. According to legend, this represented the weapons with which Kramer, the god of war, had defeated Tak Ma, the goddess of betrayal and blood, when she attempted to strike Leiorus from behind.

  The enormous paladin had brown hair combed to one side and a severe, clean-shaven face. He seemed to have the same build as Galfrido, and judging by the breadth of his back, he estimated he possessed the same strength. Slung across his back rested a massive war hammer, exquisitely crafted with a dwarven design.

  "Coming?" the Queen asked, turning around as she noticed both Kalen and Begryn lagging behind.

  "Those black-mantled knights are huge... I mean, their size is incredible," Begryn whispered.

  "They are the knights of the Order of Damaroth, known for their ferocity in combat," Kalen replied softly. "They are usually selected from the largest and strongest initiates. Their training is brutal. Furthermore, it is the only order that allows those without noble blood to join their ranks as knights. There was much controversy surrounding its founding."

  They entered an open corridor that overlooked an inner cloister, where a few pine trees grew. The floor and walls were made of stone. They reached the far end, and the Queen opened a wooden door, followed by an iron gate. It opened into a vast, wooded garden with a stone path that zigzagged uphill toward what appeared to be a massive, unornamented gray tower.

  "It’s obvious Volrath is in the tower," the Queen began. "He is always in the tower... wait... I haven't introduced you." She looked at her bodyguard. "Sir Mikrilev, these are Sir Kalen ′Fal of the Order of Reidos and Begryn of the Sharpshooters."

  "It is a pleasure, Sir Kalen ′Fal. A pleasure, my lady," the knight said. His voice was as deep as the howling wind as he gave a respectful nod to both.

  "The honor is all ours, Sir Mikrilev," Kalen said.

  They continued onward for several more minutes, realizing they were moving nearly a kilometer away from Skycold Castle—an unexpected distance for a queen to traverse within her own grounds on a typical day. As they drew near the tower, they noticed a small iron fence encircling the imposing structure, surrounded by trees that parted to reveal the path connecting the massive tower to the colossal castle.

  An elf stood upon the entrance steps. His long white hair fell to his waist and was combed back. His skin was immaculately white, mirroring the marble of the stairs where he stood. He wore a red robe with silver borders and a high collar that reached nearly to his chin. His expression was stern—the look of one not prone to frequent laughter—and his light blue eyes were narrowed as if he were perpetually squinting against the light. Kalen smiled, recognizing his old adventuring companion.

  "My Queen," said the sorcerer, Volrath. "I apologize for my absence during the adventurers' reception... I had matters to attend to with my apprentice."

  "Bah, nothing to apologize for. I’ve grown quite used to your antics, elf," the Queen replied with a wry smile. "Given the gravity of the situation, I decided to bring the travelers and the child myself."

  "Mmm... I see..." The elf crossed his arms, stroking his chin. "Kalen, it seems the years have hit you hard."

  "And you haven't aged a single day..." The knight and the elf locked eyes for a few seconds until they both broke into laughter. "Do you remember Begryn?"

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  "Of course I remember her. It is a pleasure to have you here with us, itha."

  "The pleasure is all mine, Volrath." The mage finally descended the stairs and approached the baby, who, upon seeing him, began to stretch out his arms, reaching for that pale, smooth face.

  "So, this is Nurbanduur..." he said, lifting the child with both hands. "It’s the first time I’ve seen a Dragon Knight as an infant. In fact... it’s the first time I’ve seen a Dragon Knight at all since Aldor the Golden left these lands many years ago."

  A few seconds of heavy silence followed as Volrath began a meticulous inspection of the child, checking his eyes, his back, his birthmarks, and even the soles of his feet. Finally, he turned his gaze back to Kalen. "I can only imagine what you had to endure to bring him here. Especially with winter breathing down your necks."

  "The journey was difficult," Kalen replied. "Begryn and Galfrido even ran into a portion of Faradax’s army."

  "Galfrido is with you?" Volrath smiled. "I’m not surprised. That bear follows in your footsteps wherever you go. It’s admirable. As for Faradax... well. We are in quite a predicament."

  Suddenly, a small monkey with gray fur and a black patch on its head emerged from one of the rooms. It had bright yellow eyes and almost seemed to be grinning. Kalen jumped at the sight of the creature, glancing at the elf, who simply shrugged.

  "Oh, don’t worry about him, Kalen. He’s a polymorph. Every now and then he likes to play at being a monkey, but usually, he’s flying about somewhere."

  "A polymorph? You didn’t have him last time, old friend."

  "No, no. The Polymorph was one of my more recent... acquisitions. He’s been a great help and has proven himself more than loyal."

  "What’s his name?" Begryn asked, stepping closer to the beast.

  "Polymorph," he answered dismissively.

  "I know, you already told me what he is. But what is his name?"

  "Polymorph." This time the elf looked up at her, looking genuinely puzzled.

  "You named your polymorph 'Polymorph'?" Kalen cut in. "Was there no name a bit more... original?"

  "To what end? Have you seen many other polymorphs roaming Dorlan? No? Good. Neither have I. Therefore, we can agree that there is little risk of unwanted confusion with another one." Kalen just shook his head. Volrath was pragmatic even when it came to naming pets, which didn't make him any less irritating.

  "What shall we do with the child?" the Queen asked, her patience wearing thin.

  "For now, we care for him and feed him," Volrath said. "Despite his robust, draconic nature, the journey has weakened him; he needs to regain his strength. I still have to research where we should take him for his protection and schooling. Most of the monasteries that once raised the Dragon Knights of Dorlan are in ruins or simply gone. I have my suspicions about one in particular, but until I can confirm it still stands, the child must remain safe here. We cannot afford another risk."

  "Well, I hope your research is swift, old friend, because Faradax is only days from our walls," the Queen added, rubbing her temples as if a headache were coming on.

  "I know time is of the essence. I don’t intend to waste a second. Besides, I am preparing defense plans I’d like to discuss with you—ideally before the war council meets. I meant to go over them with my apprentice first, but... who knows where that girl has wandered off to?" The Queen nodded. Volrath lifted Drako again, staring intently into his eyes. "One day you will be the most powerful creature in this world, little one... but for now, we must protect and teach you, to ensure you stay on the right side."

  "Well... we see you’re busy. We won't intrude any longer," Kalen said. He felt a twinge of helplessness seeing the baby in the mage’s hands while the monkey named Polymorph poked around with curiosity. Begryn shared the sentiment; though she knew Volrath by reputation, she didn’t quite share the knight’s level of trust in him.

  "Don't worry. We’ll talk at dinner... or at breakfast tomorrow. I promise!"

  Begryn bid Volrath farewell with a nod and a specific touch to her face—a traditional elven greeting—which the mage returned in kind. They began the trek back to the castle, retracing their steps. Kalen thanked the Queen for her company, well aware that such a gesture was beneath a noble of her station. Sir Mikrilev offered a small smile at the knight's words; the Damaroth protector was clearly well-acquainted with the unusual whims of his Queen.