4th day of the sun season 2448 - POV Serfantor

The rider at the head of the group raised a fist, stopping the march. His mount, a troxx, uttered an impatient growl and obeyed. The rider offered him a piece of dry meat, which he sniffed and swallowed in one gulp after a moment of disgust. He put his hand on a war horn that hung around his neck and was about to blow into it when a second rider with a similar mount approached.

Not far behind, Serfantor listened.

- What's the problem? asked the second rider. We are almost there. Her Shadow is waiting for her sons.

The leading rider glared at his companion. His little gray eyes gleamed under his black helm. He pulled his glove off and his hand, skin as dark as the metal of his armor, approached the head of his mount. He caressed the red scales of the long, thin reptilian snout of the troxx, then the pale feathers decorating his head.

- Before entering the royal territory, I must speak to the princes. Go and fetch them for me.

- I am not your servant, replied the second rider. I'm a Black Helm, just like you.

- Should I then explain to the queen how you almost killed me with your shenanigans during our trip to the Archlan Academy?

- I didn't...

- But who will she believe? You or me, her favorite? You would not want to become the black one's meal.

The second rider glanced back and saw the Prince's black dragoness, which was watching the Dark Helms, the Queen's elite warriors, with a thirsty eye. Resigned, he motioned his troxx to turn back.

- That's a good boy, said the leader. Bring them back quickly before my patience runs out.

Moments later, Serfantor and Katanor presented themselves to him.

- What is it, Sir Bregkhon? Serfantor asked.

Bregkhon removed his helm and inhaled lengthy, as if he had not breathed properly for a long time. He rubbed his long chin and stared at the horizon.

- Do you see the citadel in front of us?

The proud, high walls of the citadel dominated the gray steppes that we're slowly turning green for the summer. The black castle in the center overlooked the great city, forming the great Norkux.

Serfantor frowned in confusion.

- Of course. It's Norkux. What of it?

- Do you remember our agreement? I hope so. Tell your dragons to stay out of the royal territory if you do not want to anger your queen.

- Why would she not be in their presence? Katanor asked innocently. She was the one who wanted us to bond with a dragon.

- A word of advice and you should already know this by now: do not try to understand, Serfantor said. It's mother; her actions are inexplicable.

Bregkhon frowned and pointed at the two dragons. Serfantor took his little brother by the hand and dragged him towards them. Bregkhon slid his helm back on his head and signaled the group to continue on their way.

- Why does he think he's the master here when he's no more important than another Dark Helm? Katanor asked.

- It's complicated, explained Serfantor. Mother is very fond of him and, because of that, he is abusing this opportunity. You know of the nature of gray elves.

- It's typical of us.

A Black Helm and his chariot passed to their right. His mount hissed, making Katanor jump.

- Now, let's not talk about it anymore, said Serfantor. We are already lucky that he let Shalith and Klaal accompany us to here.

They reached the two dragons who were waiting for them, cleaning their scales. Serfantor had hoped that Shalith had not heard, but the dragoness had fine hearing so that was only wishful thinking.

- That idiot has caused you pain again, she growled. Are not you their princes? Who does he think he is?

Serfantor and Katanor climbed on the back of their respective dragon. Klaal looked up curiously.

- Was it the long crow beak again?

Shalith snorted with irritation and set off, the young green drake by her side.

- Stop calling him that, Serfantor said.

- It suits him, said Shalith poisonously. His muzzle is very long, like his odd helm and he croaks orders like a crow. Besides, what did he want?

Shalith was rarely amused by such childish jokes, yet this time she played along. She really must've hated Bregkhon. Serfantor glanced at his brother half-saddened.

- It's time for you to decide, he said to the dragons. Stay here or go back to the academy.

- Is it already time? Klaal asked, his eyes watering.

- I'm afraid so.

Shalith observed the surroundings. There were only steppes as far as the eye could see and a few lonely trees that decorated the little hills. Life was not as flourishing as at the academy. They needed to find a good place to survive. Far to the east, she saw a small pine forest despite the darkness. In this kingdom, light had no place. The gray elves lived in an eternal night that the Noktow priests and shadow elementalists created while constantly working to maintain a complex spell.

- Would you like it? Shalith asked Klaal.

Klaal glanced at where she was motioning.

- It's not much, but it will be enough for the summer. Where will we find food? It's death that reigns here.

- At worst, we will travel.

Klaal gave a plaintive moan.

- Well, you still know how to fly, right? asked Shalith.

- Pfff, Klaal said, annoyed by the comment on the dragoness.

- Good. You can fly over miles in a short time so stop complaining. You are a dragon, not a sheep.

Bregkhon's war horn sounded and the party slowed down. Serfantor jumped to the ground and motioned for Katanor to hurry up before turning to Shalith.

- Leave, and be safe. I'll see you again soon.

Shalith curved her neck, holding her head high. She looked at him with one eye; the second being blind and still healing. She blinked slowly.

- Do not worry, reassured Serfantor. I'll be fine. I would not do anything imprudent.

Shalith narrowed her eyes and groaned before softening her expression.

- They will not show no pity for you and you are so small. This you promise me?

Serfantor nodded. Satisfied, the black dragoness flew towards the pine forest. Katanor said a last goodbye to Klaal as the green dragon followed her.

- You seem thoughtful brother, said Katanor. We'll see them again soon, you know. What troubles you?

Serfantor stared at the two dragons shrinking in the distance. His features hardened at the question.

- Come.

He hurried to catch up with the center part of the group where they were supposed to stay. Katanor followed him lowly. A Black Helm approached with two troxxes; a black male with orange plumage and a second, this one had silvery scales and black plumage.

- Please, accept these mounts, my princes. It's still a long way before reaching Norkux.

- It's not like Shalith, but it'll do the job for now, Serfantor said firmly.

He climbed onto the back of the black troxx. He did not cause him any difficulty.

- He is very well trained.

- Thank you, my prince, replied the Black Helm. This is not the case for our young silver here.

Katanor struggled to calm his troxx, the silvery youngster with black plumage. The reptile was strong for his age and race. His musculature was reminiscent of a troxx uruss. He shook his head, scratched the ground with his sharp claws, and ignored his rider's orders. Serfantor ordered his mount to approach and he grabbed the reins of the rebel. He gave a sharp thug and the troxx froze and hissed annoyingly.

Katanor looked at him half-gratefully.

- Take mine, said Serfantor. I'll figure it out.

- My prince, said the Black Helm, are you sure? Prince Katanor needs to be firmer. It will give help him.

- We just spent several seasons training with a dragon. I think he deserves rest. On the other hand, he will have to observe me and learn.

- As my prince wishes.

- I know how to discipline my troxx, Katanor growled.

- Apparently not yet, said Serfantor.

Serfantor and Katanor traded troxx and Serfantor proved very harsh with his. In the end, he troxx obeyed him without flinching.

- You make me look weak, Katanor later said, while the others were not around.

- Do not worry, Serfantor said. You'll look like a powerful fighter alongside Klaal when you finish your training. Do not worry about troxxes. Be concerned about others, especially Sir Bregkhon, mother and father, especially mother.

Katanor looked surprised.

- Why mother and father? They are there to protect us and raise us.

- Do not believe everything you are told. Each soul has many facets. You do remember that saying, I hope.

Katanor looked nervously around him.

- But, not them.

Serfantor did not react. He remained upright and as inexpressive as a block of ice. Katanor waited for a reply, but after a moment he realized that his brother was serious. He lowered his head.

- Do you trust someone, my brother?

- I trust Shalith, he replied. Now, straighten up. We've arrived at Norkux. They must not see your fear. Mother and father will know it.

Every time they returned to Norkux, it was the same; he would comfort his little brother so that he would not falter to his emotions. The pressure exerted by the gray elf society had not been a burden for six peaceful seasons thanks to the protection of the academy. They had to get used to it again and quickly if they wished to survive.

- Why? Katanor asked, his heart beating rapidly and sweat glittering on the forehead.

- I do not know, said Serfantor. But, that's who we are. Do not ask questions. Concentrate on your survival. Do not forget the lessons mother and father thought us.

In front of them a castle protected by great walls of black stone rose in all its splendor. On the ramparts were stationed several archers and the captains who commanded them. Inside, Serfantor knew that several assassins were waiting for their chance to weaken his family. Here, royalty was not won by inheritance, but by prowess. The most gifted family in assassination was normally the one that reigned over the rest. Several other factors determined the rank of families such as wealth, military strength, reputation, social manipulation and other useful skills.

The group stopped in front of the raised drawbridge. The Dark Helms equipped themselves with their shield and their weapon of preference. One of them brought the princes their armor and helped them to put it on.

- Put down your visor, Serfantor ordered Katanor.

The young gray elf grumbled that he could not see anything but obeyed.

- Above all, do not die, said Serfantor.

Katanor tightened his grip on the reins of his troxx. Bregkhon's horn sounded and the drawbridge was lowered. The group advanced in a tight rank. The Dark Helms raised their shields to form a protective wall around themselves and the princes who were in the center.

Once inside, two Dark Helms immediately fell to assassins. One of them was not very smart and was captured by the Silver Helms, city guards, dedicated strictly and neutrally to the general peace of Norkux. The others did not dare to continue their attack.

Nobody acclaimed the arrival of the princes. Hundreds of pairs of attentive eyes watched the scene from the shadows.

The silence was heavy and Katanor lost his composure. He made sure that a Dark Helm protected him on each side and tried not to lower his head. Serfantor watched him closely all along the road.

They crossed the courtyard and then a second drawbridge, which was smaller than the first and finally reached the castle. Its walls were imposing and of the same black stone as the outer walls and they were decorated with statues of three deities: Noktow, the Father of Death, Mukhèr, the Shadow with Two Faces as well as Elskaëve, the Courtesan Whose Crown Glitters, the latter recently added by the new queen who had a soft spot for sex and passion. Everywhere, the banners of house Diramin were exposed, a gray owl on a purple field. A coat-of-arms that Serfantor grew to despise.

At the sight of the Noktow statue, all the gray elves lowered their heads respectfully. The huge dark iron doors slowly opened in a high-pitched squeak. Several Dark Helms as well as servants waited for them inside. The servants freed the princes of their armor and their troxx and offered them a dark luxurious silk outfit as custom decreed. The princes donned them and were escorted to the Great Hall of Shadow, the throne chamber.

The hall was terribly long and Serfantor had plenty of time to savor the image of his punishment several times before stopping in front of the two gray elves on their obsidian and amethyst throne. The gems were polished to perfection. They seemed so soft that Serfantor was tempted to caress them, but he knew better and abstained.

The queen wore a very revealing translucent black silk dress. Her face with hard but young features shone with mischief. Her high cheekbones gave her a fierce look. She put her hand on her king's, a gray elf with long silver hair and a submissive gaze. She dug her long nails into his skin and scratched. The king narrowed his brows, obviously in pain but did not move.

- My sons, said the queen, observing them with a cruel look. It's so good to see you again.

Serfantor and Katanor bowed and said together: " Mother. "

The queen smiled, an artificial one. She turned briefly to Sir Bregkhon.

- My thanks go to the Dark Helms for having so valiantly protected my sons.

Serfantor saw a glimmer of ecstasy in his mother's eyes that would only last for a moment, but he had not missed it. He now understood why Bregkhon was her favorite. This did not surprise him for his mother was unable to contain her sexual appetite. He smiled to himself, satisfied that he figured her little game out.

His mother glared at him.

- I would not smile if I we're you, not in the situation you placed yourself, she snapped.

Bregkhon's face lit up as Serfantor's grew dark

- I tried my best, said the prince.

- Your best is not enough, said the king. You are a Diramin. Your potential is better than your best. Would you deny being my son?

The queen thrust her nails into his gray skin.

- Silence, male. I will talk to our sons about their performance.

Her pale eyes fixed on him and broke his authority. The audience flinched.

- Katanor, she called. My youngest, my most innocent.

Katanor did not react for he was terrified. Serfantor gave him a subtle push from the elbow and finally he looked up at his mother, not because he wanted to, but because he was afraid to offend her.

- Yes, mother? he said in a shaking voice.

The queen pondered for a moment. Her gaze fell on Katanor who was now holding back a tear.

- This lunar elf, this Fiara Blakar, told me that you were causing a lot of problems at the academy. Arrogance leads to nothing. You must be charming and cunning. What have I taught you in all these years?

- It will not happen again, Katanor assured her.

- It better not. You shame house Diramin with your stupidities. The outside world is not to be pleased. The only thing that matters is that you gain your place in power. To gain power, you must be charming. Keep you close enemies.

Katanor curled slightly on himself.

- Next year, continued the queen, you'll be an exemplary gray elf. You seem to have forgotten your lessons. Go to your room, I'll send a master to refresh your memory... Do I have a volunteer?

Katanor exited of the hall in hurried and anxious steps, a gray elf dressed in a priest's robe at his heels.

A fine rain fell lightly upon the big windows of the roof. Coming from up there, a low growl resonated. Serfantor felt his muscles relax. Shalith's presence reassured him. Fortunately, no one seemed to notice her.

- And you, said the queen, in a voice crueler and more venomous than a poison of scorpion.

Serfantor raised his head and locked his gaze to his mother's.

- Yes, mother?

- You brought a great shame to our family, she growled. A shower of shame as the current weather says so well.

She gazed upward. Her thoughts were lost in the darkness of the sky for a moment; a dark gray cloud covered most of the stars. Her finger snaked up around her cup of wine. She took a sip and gave him her attention again.

- From now on, you will call me by my royal title.

Serfantor winced and bowed even lower. He felt the gaze of his mother pierce his soul. He was troubled by her decision. He heard whispers in the audience, twenty-something representants of important houses. Apparently, the Queen's words had touched them as much as he did.

- The prince was degraded by his own mother, whispered one of them. He must have really shamed the family.

- The queen is really cursed, whispered another lady. Two boys, she cannot reproduce anymore.

The queen took another sip of wine and stood up. She motioned the audience to leave. They dragged on as much as they could, curious to know what was going to happen.

- Outside where I killed you all! she yelled.

Bregkhon and the other Dark Helms were pleased to threaten the lords and ladies with their weapons.

Once the audience left, the queen signaled her guards and Serfantor to stay.

- I'm still dealing with you, young idiot, she said, staring coldly at her son.

Serfantor knelt and lowered his head.

The king leaned toward his queen and whispered in her ear. Whatever he said to her, it did not please the queen for her face was dominated by anger. She pushed him away fiercely without giving him the chance to finish.

- It's not important that I offended the High Houses. Do you not see? What deserves our attention and care lies in the hands of your stupid son.

A growl was heard from above. This time, the queen heard it, but she paid no attention. She was too busy choosing her next words.

- I was cursed with two boys. I will never understand why the males of this society are so simple-minded. Yet our great god, Noktow, is a male unless he is in truth a genderless shadow, which would explain many things.

Even Bregkhon seemed beaten down at that moment. His eyes we're low and did not dare to meet the queen's gaze.

- Do not worry, Bregkhon, she said softly. You are the exception to the rule. You are a precious guard, a Black Helm. You do your duty as it should, a real son of Noktow.

Bregkhon raised his head and for a moment he seemed moved. He concealed this weakness by bowing.

- You are too good, my queen of darkness, in a tone that sounded almost loving.

- Perhaps you could teach Serfantor how to do his duty, she said irritably. He is unworthy of the Diramin name. Either he learns and quickly or I will dispose of him.

Bregkhon straightened up and remained impassive as if the Queen's words were a simple banality. Serfantor felt his heart squeeze into his chest. He was afraid of the answer that would come from the Black Helm. If he did not answer well, the queen's wrath would surely steal his life unless...

- May I ask what he did to deserve this demotion? asked Bregkhon.

- He lost a large part of our power, replied the queen. And that, to a girl ignorant in the art of assassination. Maybe I should replace him with her. She would make a much better heiress. At least she would have a brain instead of a penis.

She turned to Serfantor.

- What made you so weak? Have you seen her cleavage and lost your mind, like most men do.

Serfantor did not dare answer. It was not worth it. The queen would find an excuse to punish him in one way or another.

- Pathetic, she said. Maybe I should just get rid of you.

She began to chant. Her eyes melted into her skin to transform into black holes. Her gaze was that of a snake looking for its meal.

Bregkhon and the Dark Helms grasped the pommel of their weapon. They approached Serfantor as predators surrounding their prey.

There was a loud crack, then the roof shattered. Glass and stone fell everywhere in the throne room. A Black Helm was crushed under a huge paw. A claw pierced his skull all the way to his neck. The other guards froze, and the queen fell silent. Despite everything, she challenged the dragoness by glaring at her.

Shalith uttered a growl so fierce and clear that the queen smiled.

- What a magnificent creature, she complimented.

Her eyes returned to normal, pleased by what she was seeing.

Shalith raised her lips and sharp fangs were revealed. Her nauseating breath made the king recoil. The queen did not care; she was fascinated by the dragoness.

- Her scales are slimy, complained the king. It will dirty our floors.

- Do not insult our guest of honor or you will clean it all, snapped the queen.

She turned to Serfantor.

- She must be hungry. Ask her for me.

The prince translated. Shalith was not very comfortable with the Elvish tongue and replied in kind in a series of grunts.

- She said yes, said Serfantor, but that does not matter.

The queen chuckled.

- Of course it's important. She can devour Bregkhon since he is as incompetent as the rest of the males in this room.

The Black Helm's eyes widened, and yet he did not dare move. He barely breathed. Serfantor relayed the message. Shalith ignored the invitation and spoke in his mother tongue, her voice sharp and angry.

Serfantor translated:

- She says you should show more respect for a dragon, that you may be a predator, but that she is an alpha predator and that she's annoyed by your laws and your shenanigans.

The queen smiled with malice.

- That's what she believes. There are always multiple ways to deal with a situation. On the other hand, if she wants to cooperate, I will let you live.

She motioned to Bregkhon. He grabbed Serfantor and placed him a black dagger he hid in his leather boot at his throat. Shalith turned to Bregkhon and hissed.

- Calm, said the queen. I'll give you a chance to explain. So, why do not you have the feather in your possession?

Bregkhon softens his grip.

- She won the duel honestly, said Serfantor.

- You tried to win the feather by a fair duel and you lost against this helpless little girl?

Serfantor wanted to defend Azéna, to tell his mother that she was a great fighter, but it would make him look weak. He did not want to strain the already tensed situation, so he didn't struggle.

- Yes, that's it.

- Once more, your honor made you weak, hissed the queen. Your honor is in the way of your duty. Set it aside. Honor is for idiots, not gray elves. Are you a gray elf?

Serfantor hesitated; his failure did not escape the queen.

- You will return to the academy at the end of the season and bring me this feather without fail otherwise, I will find another way to strengthen our people.

- Her Shadow means our family, corrected Serfantor.

- Stop playing and translate.

Serfantor obeyed and Shalith accepted the offer reluctantly.

- Besides, continued the queen, how did you enter Norkux?

Shalith answered in a poisonous voice, looking at the queen from above. Serfantor translated:

- She says our ways is unintelligent and we are a weak and dependent people. Our artificial night allowed her to fly to the castle without being spotted.

- Sneaky dragoness, said the queen. She stands straight like a proud huntress. But now she must leave if she wants to keep her life. The gray elves will not tolerate her presence and I do not want to burden myself with these problems.

Shalith dug her claws in the body of the Black Helm and blood flowed from the wounds to defile the polished floor.