The Darkling of Dragonbeck

The library was still, with no movement but the guard making his way through the aisles. But he was disadvantaged by Baden, as Baden had home territory. His actions were loud and clunky in his armor, but Baden was quiet, nothing more than a whisper amongst the faded parchment. “Come on, kid,” he called out, his voice echoing in the stone room. “The king wants to see you. His majesty will not wait long.”

Oh, he’ll wait, Baden thought as they slipped closer and closer to the only exit. The extensive library was at the top of the Rimne Tower, the most prominent tower in the castle, and the king would be waiting in the White River Spire. That was quite a stretch to get Baden too, and their father should have known no ordinary knight would be able to drag Baden that far. And that was when Baden heard them. Dask’s pale hands grabbed Baden, firm and solid. “There you are,” Dask breathed in their ear. The Changeling was always too quiet, and Baden fell for his trick more times than they wanted to admit. “Now come on without a fuss, please. It’ll be easier that way.”

Baden let out a huff and looked up at Dask. “Fine. Let’s go.” Dask grinned, his pale face stretching to show even paler teeth. The Changeling always wore his true form, which was terrifying. The light purple hair and those black eyes with silver pupils and iris. Similar to their king’s eyes, but not the same. Haunting as they were, they were filled with humor of sorts. Dask let Baden go and began to head off, not waiting for them to follow. With Big Taine behind Baden, they had no escape.

Baden followed on quick feet, catching up to the shape changer before they left Rimne Tower. “What does he summon me for? Do you know?” Baden asked.

“Guests,” Dask said calmly. “Your favorite type. Dragons.” Dask cracked a smirk. “Well, almost dragons.” Baden knew what they meant, thought. Dragonborn, they had seen plenty of them in books and met some at their brother’s last birthday. He had danced with one, if they remembered correctly, one with bronze scales and golden eyes. Baden had almost been forced to dance with one but had slipped away before that could happen.

“Why are Dragonborn here? Is there trouble in their home?” Baden knew of several Dragonborn cities, a few near and even farther. Only one they allied with, however.

Dask shrugged. “I’m just a messenger, little royal,” he said, mussing their hair. “You should ask the king such things.” Baden knew Dask knew, however. Dask could be any servant, guard, or royal if he wanted. He could find out anything. He was being an ass.

Baden said nothing else on their trip, instead letting themselves think about anything big enough to send dragonborn to the castle gates. Soon though, Big Taine shoved his shoulder against the heavy oak doors that led to the king’s study. Baden had been in this room many times.

The king’s study was in a room called ‘The watcher’s room,’ It sat atop the White River Spire Tower, mimicking the Rimne’s rounded glass top. The walls were adorned with shaped bookcases, filled with books cleanly and crisply. Too perfect for Baden. There was a large table in the middle of the room, spanning at least eight feet. A map of Dragonbeck and nearby kingdoms was painted onto the wood, and atop its surface sat papers and books, all projects in work. And sat at the head of the table was the king.

King Eithol sat at the head of the table, his hands folded upon it. He was lean, with shoulder-length black hair and grayish skin. His eyes were black, as well as the iris; only the pupil was a light gray. Today he dressed in deep blues and shades of gray. His eyes watched Baden, bearing into their soul. Baden hated how the king looked at them, but they ignored it. Right now, there was company present. Eithol leaned in his seat, gesturing over to Baden. “Sir Urdikar, this is my daughter. Baden.”

Baden almost went to remind their father not to call them that but decided arguing in front of guests was pointless. Baden smiled and slipped into the seat of honor beside King Eithol. “It is a pleasure to meet you,” Baden said with forced courtesy, taking in the sight of the Dragonborn before them. One was an old male with cracking white scales and long nails. He had a staff cross his lap, most likely to help him walk. The other was much younger, a female with shiny copper-colored scales and reptilian gold eyes. She was young enough to be the other’s granddaughter, but Baden knew better than that. They both were riding clothes, fair cloth the color of evergreen needles. Those golden eyes locked with Baden’s lilac ones, and a smile spread on those reptilian lips. A kind smile with no menace. Baden returned it, albeit a little forced. “What brings you to Dragonbeck? Our Festival of the Tooth isn’t for another moon.”

The king cleared his throat to speak. “This is Sir Urdikar Loryax of Hernhalli. With him is-“

“One of King Glodkif’s offspring, I am assuming,” Baden said, making this little charade crumble. The princess and knight seemed taken aback, and their father’s lips curled in annoyance. There was a flurry of noise from the other side of the table, but the king silenced it by slapping his meaty palm on the table.

“Enough. Yes, Baden, this is Princess Quespa Hashphronyxadyn. I was going to pass her off to you as Sir Urdikar’s granddaughter, but it seems that option has passed.” He sat up fully. “The noble princess will be staying here as your knight for a while for the safety of both of you.” Baden flinched at this. They did not want another knight to follow them day and night, especially not some princess in ill-fitting mail. The discomfort must have shown in their eyes because the king added, “This is non-negotiable. Understand this, daughter; the princess is a guest here, an esteemed guest. But she is also hiding. She will be a knight, not a princess. And you will treat her with the respect of a knight and a princess.”

“And if it comes to a fight?” Baden asked, “Am I to treat her like a princess or a knight?”

“I can handle myself,” the princess, Quespa, said. “And I can protect you too, my lady.” Baden’s face screwed up in annoyance. They wanted to snap at this child, this ignorant child. They knew nothing of being a knight or of the dangers within Dragonbeck. And they knew nothing of Baden.

Baden forced air between their teeth, forcing their voice into a false calm. “I don’t like to be called my lady, Princess Quespa. Call me Baden, or if you must bestow me an honor, call me your majesty.” Baden could feel their father’s eyes burrowing into their head but again ignored it. Princess Quespa dipped her head in acknowledgment. “And if you play the honorable knight, you need a knight’s title. Do you have one yet?”

The dragonborn princess’s eyes lit up, and she nodded. “I do,” she said. “Sir Que of Ashinall.” Baden chewed on this moment, letting their knowledge of Ashinall sweep over them. Ashinall was sworn to Hernhalli but was best known for its dueling competitions. Once a moon, they had these competitions, where one could earn a knighthood with a sword, lance, or swiping the crown from the guarded idol hidden amongst the many tents around the arena. It was cruel jape at making knights; often, these were just common thieves and young boys looking for glory. The perfect place to birth a lowborn knight with a flimsy claim at even that title. Baden smiled at this, and the princess knight grinned back. Maybe the girl was more intelligent than Baden had first thought, or perhaps her knight had picked that name. Baden would find out soon enough that they knew.

Baden looked at their father, who had begun to watch his child. A slight smile on those pale lips sent chills down Baden’s spine. Immediately Baden had their walls back up, blocking out this well-placed guard. Their teeth gnashed for a moment, but Baden let up and smiled warmly. “Well… welcome to Dragonbeck, Sir Que of Ashinall. I hope you enjoy your time here.” Baden was sure they would not enjoy the Dragonborn’s time.