25th day of the season of the sun 2448

For what seemed to be the hundredth time, Fingaar glanced at the suns to determine the time of day. He frowned and rushed the group.

The opening ceremony was about to begin and they were still a good half hour's walk from Atgoren. At least the city could be seen with ease. It was growing slowly on the horizon. Azena tried to keep up with the elf in a hurry. She felt handicapped by the luggage on her back; another punishment for being irresponsible with alcohol. Beads of sweat rolling off her forehead, she realized that her physical strength was not at its best. She growled and doubled her speed. Fayne gave her a compassionate look. Azena knew her friend would have helped her if she could.

Since the dragons had gone hunting, the group was on foot and their slow pace frustrated Fingaar.

- They could have waited until we arrived, he snapped.

Azena took another step forward, her boots sinking into the mud. She repressed a grumble. The elf's comment weighed on her back. She wanted to throw the luggage as far as she could and tell him to exchange his testicles for ovaries. She clenched her teeth, restrained herself, and opted for a gentler comment. Alas, holding her tongue was too hard proved to be too hard.

- What a baby, she whispered.

Only Fayne heard her.

- Azena, she said softly. Please... Control yourself.

The tomboy sighed. She wanted to tell her friend that it was a great improvement on her original comment, but instead, she looked up to the sky in search of Tyrath, her life companion.

- I hope they come back soon. That would be easier.

A smile appeared on her lips. She remembered her time with Melanh'tash. It was a short amount of time, but it was enough for a lifetime of mental growth. Apparently also to get drunk in the pirate's way, as the blacksmith so cheerfully said, the best way. The way where you throw up your heart and your worries. That's when Azena realized she was a lot different from what she thought she was. Half elf and possibly attracted to women. That was the worst nightmare for a young lady of nobility. And yet she felt good, better than she'd ever felt before. Why worry? She had strong goals, wonderful friends, powerful allies and a vocation that even a king would have desired. A negative thought did cross her mind, however. Fayne had to one day be told that she liked girls. She couldn't spend her love life in the dark forever. According to the authorities, loving the same sex was a perversity. "Always ask yourself questions," Mel had advised between sips of rum. And the question was: Is it wrong? Azena saw no harm in it except to break tradition and the difficulty of fathering her own biological children. The dear tradition, like the law, decided by nobles, kings and queens. This thought irritated her

- I'm different, she thought. I am able to face them.

A small cry of relief shook Azena out of her thoughts. Fayne pointed to the sky, where a glittering dot grew rapidly in size. It looked like an azure gem and then the image sharpened into a winged shape. In turn, three more gems made their entrance, a silver one, a snow-white one, and finally a sand one.

- Buhrik, Tyrath, Karia and Tonxa, said Fayne. They're back.

For the first time that day, Fingear smiled. In fact, all the dragon riders smiled. Seeing their dragon, so majestic in the skies was heartwarming. Tonxa, small and slender, had fun landing on the back of the much larger Karia. The white dragoness growled in warning, but Tonxa ignored her, raising her head high in the wind. Tyrath, his eyes as big as a rounded shield, moved silently towards her. He bent down, taking great care in every step he took. Intuitive, Karia felt his movements and snapped her jaws towards him, missing him closely.

- The she-devil, laughed Dogan. Tonxa loves to tease adults.

- She's a drake like Tyrath, Fayne confirmed. No wonder he's trying to imitate her.

- My big, immature baby, Azena said proudly.

Indeed, Tonxa was a little shorter than Tyrath, but she was a little older than him. The brown and blue dragons were the shortest of their kind.

- How old is she?

- Twenty-seven, Dogan answered. She's still a child, almost a teenager though. Soon she'll start to strut around the males.

- She's so beautiful. I've never seen a dragon with such a colorful set of eyes and scales.

Tonxa riveted her pale pink eyes on Fayne and emitted a little thank-you grunt, her eyes sparkling with energy.

- I'm young and small but don't underestimate me.

Her voice was as alive as her personality. She folded her wings against her body and flew towards a large rock. She struck it with a powerful blow of her head. One crack appeared, then followed by two and three. Finally the rock fissured from the hit.

- How did she do that? Your head! Fayne exclaimed, her eyes wide open, shocked.

Dogan smiled proudly, leaving the honor to Tonxa to explain. The brown dragon whipped a piece of rock out of the way with her tail and returned to her rider.

- The heads of brown dragons are extremely tough. We use it to break and dig with the help of our claws.

- Enough with the arrogance, said Fingear. Come on, let's go on to Atgoren.

Tonxa pouted, but obeyed. The dragon riders mounted their companion and in a few minutes they passed through the main gates of Atgoren, city of dragons and riders. They turned for Archlan's academy. The noise coming from downtown piqued the curiosity of the two drakes, and they changed course. The two adult dragons, Buhrik now in his first year as a dragon, followed. A huge crowd blocked the main street. The City Guard tried in vain to calm the citizens.

- What's going on? Tyrath asked.

- Let's go see, Tonxa exclaimed, excited about her new mission.

The sand drake turned and landed on the roof of a house near the crowd. Tyrath and Buhrik chose the same house as Tonxa, leaving the second one to Karia who was much more massive than them. Tyrath's right rear leg slipped and he uttered a surprised scream. Buhrik reacted quickly; he bit one of the longest spikes on Tyrath's neck. The silver drake straightened up, still a little dazed by the shock. He shook his head slightly and thanked his companion with a nod.

- Careful, said Buhrik. The tiles are still a little damp from the last rain.

The dwellings in Atgoren were designed with dragons in mind. Thus, they were sturdy and perfect perches for majestic creatures.

In front of the crowd, a man in chains on a wooden platform was featured. At his side, dragon riders made sure he didn't move. Behind him, a fourth man was sharpening a large battle axe. Azena quickly guessed what was going on.

- A public execution.

She had rarely seen one, since her father preferred that she not be present at such events, but she knew how to recognize one easily.

- Is this the opening ceremony? Either they're doing a joke or they're idiots.

Fingaar was focused on the condemned man.

- Do you know who he is? asked Dogan. We haven't been notified.

- I would have chosen a different route if I had known, grunted the moon elf. And no, I don't know, but he doesn't seem important. He's wearing the clothes of a common wanderer.

Indeed, the man in question wore a rudimentary leather armor, an old hooded cape and high boots that were falling apart. His beard remained short despite the obvious lack of maintenance. His slim, slender, but still powerful figure reminded of an elf, but could just as well have been human. But what confirmed his race was when his hood was lowered by force. His short but pointed ears pierced through his long dirty hair, underlining that he hadn't had access to a bath for some time.

The audience gasped at this revelation.

- Calm down, asked the dragon rider to the right of the prisoner. Usually Atgoren does not get dirty with the justice of the High King, but today is a special day. We have before us a traitor and a danger to the subjects of the High King's Empire.

The dragon rider continued his speech, but the flapping of wings buried him momentarily. A huge dragon, a little larger than Karia, perched on the house next to one where Tyrath and Buhrik were. She shook her head and sniffed, a greeting that was returned from the other dragons.

- Grand Master Vigoth, Azena exclaimed with a smile on her face.

Vigoth was always a pleasure to see; Azena adored this moon elf. He always shone with his radiance of joy, but today he was rather gray looking.

Fayne, Fingaar and Dogan nodded politely to their superior. Vigoth answered with a thin smile.

- What a horror, isn't it? My apologies for this spectacle. The opening, the binding ceremony, is supposed to be a joyous event.

- He's a traitor and a danger, isn't he? asked Azena. Then that's a good thing.

The innocence of the young half elf made Vigoth smile.

- Death should never be celebrated. Nothing is black or white. However, a decision must be made.

- This is unusual, said Fingaar. Atgoren is never the hostess of brutality. Why is this one allowed?

He addressed Vigoth:

- Grand Master, what's going on?

The latter did not offer him any details.

Eyes glued to the stage, the crowd felt themselves shrink as the condemned man's head rolled to the ground. His blood, twirling, flew in all directions, stained the executioner, the platform, a few spectators and finally, crashed between the crevices of the stoney path. The condemned man had not moved, he had not struggled. He had accepted his death as if he was accomplishing a feat, as if his life was complete.

- Welcome back, said Vigoth in a neutrality that betrayed the tightness of his heart.