Δrakon

By Wallace Knucker

Dragons were powerful and formidable warriors, they could use fire very differently than the warriors of the fire. It was like they could command the element, like fire was part of them. The scariest thing about them though, was their real form. Just a handful of people had seen it and survived long enough to tell the story.

The only thing I know about this form is that it was giving them tremendous speed and power beyond any imagination and that just a look at it was enough to make your blood freeze in your veins.

When war began among humans and dragons, our annihilation was certain. At the last battle, one hundred thousand humans, with the help of the elves, faced two thousand of those monsters. The magic of the elves combined with the sheer will and determination of the warriors led to victory. This was the battle in which dragons were wiped from existence.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Mar 31, 2022
• ISBN: 9781398417434

Book preview

Copyright Information ©

Wallace Knucker 2022

The right of Wallace Knucker to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781398417427 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781398417434 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published 2022

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®

1 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5AA

Chapter 1

Prelude

The sun had started to set and the night was slowly taking the place of day. The entire forest was quiet. The little village standing at the edge of the forest had not sunk in its silent darkness like every other night. The carefree villagers living here—instead of sleeping early like every other night—were running feverishly up and down the streets of the village. The streets were gleaming from the light of the little lamps hanging on the door of each house. They were preparing the last details for the celebration of the summer solstice.

This celebration happened once each year, when the winter solstice gave its place to the summer solstice. It was the most important celebration for this little village because it signified the end of the winter and the entry of the season in which the crops would bloom.

Everything was ready for the celebration, even the little kids had helped in the preparations and of course, all of them were excited. All the villagers had left their houses empty and they were present in the little square of the village. All the houses were empty except for one small house at the edge of the village, just outside of the forest. In that house lived Δrakon, a twelve-year-old boy, with his father, Theron. The little kid was happy and friendly with his fellow villagers most of the times, though on this specific day, he didn’t want to get out.

Δrakon was playing with a piece of wood, moving it like a sword, holding it over his head and then moving it downwards with force, slicing in half an invisible enemy. The young boy was dreaming of fighting with his sword against hordes of enemies. The stories that Theron told him about strong warriors, who alone could obliterate entire battalions and control the elements, were forcing his imagination to create imaginary battles. In these battles, he was the hero and his sword was the one to destroy the enemies. His favourite story was about a black-clad fighter of the fire who had alone destroyed an entire city filled with enemies; even now Δrakon was imagining this specific battle, making it part of his play.

Usually, the square was an empty area surrounded with the few small shops of the village and in the middle was a huge and old plane tree. Today, because of the celebration, the villagers had decorated the shops and the big plane tree with small lamps. Around the imposing tree had been placed wooden counters that belonged to sellers who had come to the village in order to sell their stuff to the villagers and had already left to spent their night in a nearby city.

The entire village had gathered in the square and they were waiting for the climax of the celebration. Their custom was to start a fire in which each villager would throw a piece of wood. This custom symbolised that they didn’t need the wood in order to start fires and keep themselves warm anymore because the winter was gone.

Each year, a villager had the duty to light the fire at the edge of the square, the spot that was most distant from the wooden houses of the village. The villager waited till everything was ready and then took the torch that was in front of him, dipped it deep into a flammable liquid and lit it from the fire in a decorative lamp. Then he stood in front of the pile of dry branches and he shouted as loudly as he could.

May the end of the winter bring to all of us a great crop! And then he lit the fire with the torch he was holding. When the branches were ablaze, the villagers started cheering. Seeing this fire burning lifted a huge weight over their shoulders; the cold and hard winter was finally over and now had come the warm summer. The villagers formed a queue and started to toss the piece of wood each one had brought with them into the fire.

The celebration had finally reached its climax as the fire had become huge and was lighting the entire square like it was daylight. The queue of the villagers, who were feeding it with wood, had almost reached its end.

Suddenly, from the darkness spreading behind the shops in the square, came a whistling sound and after that, the violent thud of a dead person falling on the ground. The villagers needed a few moments in order to understand what had happened and turned and looked at the villager who had lit the fire, to see him on the ground on his back and the point of an arrow emerging from his chest; around him, a small pool of blood was forming.

Everyone panicked and some women started screaming. A few moments later, more whistling sounds echoed from the darkness and they were followed by the sound of four more dead bodies hitting the ground. Now panic overwhelmed even the most poised ones. Every villager in the square started to run in order to find shelter from a threat they didn’t know from where it was coming.

During all this panic and havoc, a thunderous voice sounded, giving an order from within the darkness that surrounded the small bright square and after that, soldiers overflooded the square, coming from the small streets between the houses of the village. Their bare swords appeared even more dreadful under the light of the huge fire still burning in the square and their shimmering armours reflected the fire’s bright and vivid yellow and red light.

The soldiers started to slaughter the villagers indiscriminately; men, women and children, all of them were falling dead from the soldiers’ swords. There was nowhere to run because the soldiers had already filled the small square and every escape route was closed. The swords and the shimmering armours started to turn red from the blood of the dead villagers.

The smell of blood and the sound of screams flooded the entire village. In each street, each alley, the sound of desperate screams and hear-breaking pleas for mercy were heard. The soldiers were now chasing the few ones that had somehow managed to escape from the small square.

It was a weird type of hunt in which humans were hunting other humans and the prey could do nothing in order to avoid its hunter and ultimately the grim fate awaiting them.

Theron had managed to escape from the square and he was trying to reach the small house at the edge of the forest. If he could get there in time, maybe he could warn Δrakon and the kid could escape in the forest—survive this maniacal slaughter.

He was trying hard but he could not find the reason that these soldiers had attacked this small and forgotten village. He could not give a reasonable explanation; the villagers always paid their taxes to the empire and they never caused any problems. The village was small and had neither a strategic position nor ores. All these thoughts were turning in his head while he was trying to avoid the soldiers, who were searching every inch of the village for survivors.

He turned in an alley and then he got into a small house, trying to reach the other end of the house and avoid some soldiers coming towards him. As soon as he entered the house, he faced a soldier standing above the corpse of a white-haired villager.

When the soldier became aware of Theron’s presence, he turned towards him and lifting his sword above his head, charged at him. Theron anticipated this attack and he managed to get out of the sword’s course as the soldier was lowering it, aiming for Theron’s chest. Then the soldier turned the edge of his weapon towards Theron, took a step forward and tried to stab him through the lungs.

Theron was again faster and avoided the sword by side-stepping to the left. After this move, he was standing beside the soldier who was trying to unstick his weapon from the wooden wall of the house it had pierced through. Theron took advantage of the bad luck of his opponent and kicked him in the joint of his right foot; the hit was strong and the soldier’s foot broke. He screamed in agony and pain while falling to the floor; his foot could not hold him any longer. Theron drew the sword out of the wall and lowered it with force against the soldier’s neck, whose head rolled on the wooden floor away from his body while a jet of blood sprang from his neck.

Theron got out from the house in the alley and started running towards the edge of the forest. He had to avoid a few more soldiers who were searching for villagers that had survived the carnage. Soon he saw the small house between the forest and the village. His agony about what he was going to find inside the house was driving him crazy; he was praying that Δrakon was still inside the house and that he had not gone outside when he heard the screams of the villagers.

He was terrified, he knew that this small village could not have caused the wrath of the empire. Deep down, he knew that this day was meant to come eventually; these soldiers were there for his head or worse, the empire knew of Δrakon’s existence. That last scenario frightened him the most. The facts though were pointing towards a different truth. Without any doubt, he was an enemy of the empire and some day he would have to fight against the soldiers they would send to capture him; he was ready for that, but he had never expected that they would send so many. These soldiers could not be here just for him. His worst nightmare had become a reality. The empire had discovered his secret.

Having all these thoughts tormenting his mind and trying to avoid the soldiers, he was running as fast as he could. When he saw the small wooden house standing at the end of the village exactly as he had left it before he left for the celebration, like the bloodshed and slaughter had never happened, he managed a sigh of relief. Despite the screams coming from the village and the light that the burning village emitted, turning night into day and chasing away the darkness, this little house was exactly as he had left it.

Theron could breathe again; he had managed to get there on time, the soldiers had not noticed this tiny house and when they would find out their mistake, it would be too late. Δrakon would have fled and he would be the only one inside waiting for them to lead as many as he could to the underworld’s gates and then it would be his time to join them.

He was praying that the kid was still inside the house. He run the last metres separating him from the house with all the power his lungs could give him. The dead soldier’s sword was still in his hand, it was hindering him while he was running but he didn’t dare let it go yet. When he reached the house’s wooden door, he was out of breath. He opened it and stormed inside. The light was dim and his eyes needed a couple of moments to adjust.

The first thing he saw was Δrakon standing a few metres away, but he was not alone. Behind him was a tall soldier who was keeping the kid’s mouth shut with his hand. Theron immediately charged towards the soldier, but before he managed to take more than a step, a sword emerged from his chest.

A soldier had been standing by the door; he had charged into the house carelessly and had not noticed him. He had acted without thinking, he should have expected a trap. He was mad with himself because his stupid mistake would not let him protect Δrakon. He said something through his teeth, cursing his bad choice.

His vision blurred and he had to spit the blood that had filled his mouth from the wound. The sword he was holding fell from his hands, making a loud noise when the cold metal hit the wooden floor. The soldier drew his sword from Theron’s chest, letting him fall to his knees; his feet did not had enough power to keep him standing. With his blurred vision, he saw Δrakon screaming but the sound was stopped by the soldier’s hand.

The soldier who had stabbed Theron grasped him by the shoulders and drew him outside, while the other one lifted Δrakon and followed them. When they got outside of the small wooden house, they found ten more soldiers waiting for them and in front of them was a soldier wearing a different uniform than the rest and having a different insignia. He raised his arm and the soldiers who were carrying Theron and Δrakon led them in front of him so that they could look at him.

Then he took a step towards Theron and said, "Theron, you look like an actual farmer. I would never have imagined that a legendary warrior like you, a notorious enemy of the empire, would have ended like this. Hiding in such a small village, pretending he’s nothing more than a farmer. It makes me sad seeing how low you have fallen. Of course, I have to give you credit for managing to make the empire consider you dead for all this time; when the information came into our hands, I thought they were referring to ghosts.

But in the end, we found you and the little one you were hiding all this time. I would like to let you see him die but unfortunately, that will not happen soon and I do not intend to lengthen your torment. I mean, I can only imagine how much every breath you take must ache after the hit that split your lungs. Thorn, finish him.

One of the ten soldiers standing behind the man moved towards Theron, drawing his sword from his sheath. Theron knew he was going to die and he could not do anything. The fate is inevitable, he thought, and unfortunately, destiny had the same in store for Δrakon. With the scarce power he had left, he managed to turn his head towards Δrakon and sputtered a few words mixed with blood.

Δrakon, my end is near but yours must not come so soon, you have a mission to fulfil. I do not know how you will manage to escape from here but I know you have the power to do it. You will always be my son but the blood in your veins is different than mine and so much stronger, your line—

He stopped talking and he spit blood on the grass. He took a painful breath and tried to continue talking but could not manage. Thorn reached him and grasped him from his hair and put his sword to his neck. A quick move and Theron’s head detached from his body and fell in front of Δrakon.

Δrakon was watching all this, terrified; in a few moments, he had seen the man that he had considered all these years as his father dying just after he had told him he was not his true father. He had heard the screams of the village’s residents who were dying one after the other and he had seen his village burning. His eyes were stuck on Theron’s head in front of him. His lifeless body fallen face down nearby.

The chief of the soldiers first looked at the dead Theron and then Δrakon sitting on the grass, with an empty stare. A small smirk formed on his face. He turned his look at the headless body and pointing towards it, he ordered his men to take it and burn it. Immediately, two soldiers followed his order, gathered Theron’s body and head and went to the back of the house to fulfil the order.

Δrakon did not understand anything of what was happening after the soldier beheaded Theron. He had withdrawn in a corner of his mind and he didn’t pay any attention to anything. The fear he was feeling had started to turn into sheer anger and hatred. His village was burning in front of his eyes, his friends and every person he knew in his life had been slaughtered by the soldiers. Theron had lost his head in front of his eyes.

As he was thinking all this, his thoughts were getting blurry from the anger; the only thing he wanted was to kill the soldiers, he wanted to obliterate them one by one with his bare hands. But he knew that he had not a single chance against them, he could not fight them all, maybe he couldn’t fight even one of them. Nevertheless, he was feeling his anger growing, he was feeling like it was burning him from inside.

His understanding of the world returned. He looked around him but he did not see Theron’s body; that seemed weird, how much time had he been lost in his thoughts? He had no time to waste, the soldiers were still there. He looked again around him for something that he could use to attack the soldiers with. He had made up his mind; for sure, he had no chance to win this fight but there was no chance he could survive either way. He preferred a death he would earn fighting instead of death delivered to him by an executioner.

His search stopped when he saw Theron’s sword fallen near the house’s door a few metres away from him. There were no soldiers behind him, they were only in front of him. He had to wait for the proper chance. His empty stare had given its place to an intense deadly look. The situation he was in had not changed but now he had a plan, a suicide plan, but at least it was a plan.

He soon would be dead but he would die on his own conditions. His thoughts were interrupted when a soldier started talking.

What are we going to do with the kid? We were ordered not to let anyone alive.

Do not be hasty, idiot, you think that you know better than me the orders for this mission? said the chief in a fierce tone. The kid will die but first, we must check him.

Check him? What exactly should we check?

Stop testing me, soldier, you know what you should know. Thorn, bring me the kid.

Thorn had sat a few metres away after he had beheaded Theron; he got up and started moving towards Δrakon. The kid knew that if this gigantic soldier reached him, he would never get that sword in his hands. This was not the proper moment he had been waiting for but he had no choice. Thorn had already covered half the distance that separated them.

He didn’t think anymore, stood up as fast as he could and dashed towards the wooden house. Thorn immediately charged at him in order to stop him but his huge body did not let him move fast enough. The soldier barely managed to touch Δrakon’s hand with the tip of his fingers. Δrakon had enough time to reach the house’s door and grab the sword. All seemed good till now, everything was going according to his plan, he thought, trying to convince himself.

He hadn’t expected even to reach the sword. The metal of the hilt was cold in his hands and the sword was a lot heavier than the branches he used to use when he was playing. He could barely hold the sword in front of his torso using both his hands. Thorn was a few metres away; he had already drawn his sword from his belt and his eyes were overflooding with rage. That kid had made him look like a fool.

For a few brief moments, they were just staring at each other without making any move. The man that had killed Theron was in front of him; from all the soldiers, he was the one that he wanted to kill the most. He was holding a sword he could barely move and his enemy was more powerful, trained and with more experience. Despite all that, Δrakon felt no fear; on the contrary, he was full of energy.

Thorn made the first move, he lifted his sword with one hand above his head and charged at Δrakon. The kid tried to avoid him as he had done before; he was faster, but the sword was heavy and was weighing him down. He could not avoid the hit and had to defend himself. Thorn took three big steps and reached him, then he lowered his sword with tremendous force aiming for Δrakon’s head.

Δrakon just managed to turn his sword horizontally and place it between his head and Thorn’s sword. The two swords clashed and their clang echoed in the silence of the night.

Δrakon could not stop Thorn’s sword but he managed to delay it enough in order to find the time to side step and avoid the fatal hit. Thorn did not lose any time; before Δrakon could regain his balance, he grabbed his sword with both hands and swinging it with force horizontally, he hit Δrakon’s sword.

The sword flew from the kid’s hands and fell a few metres away on the grass. Δrakon was now defenceless against Thorn’s sword. The soldier laughed, sure of himself, and tossed his sword from his one hand to the other as he stared at Δrakon.

Kid, you really believed you could beat me? The farmer did not teach you not to start fights you cannot win?

When he finished his sentence, he threw a punch with his right fist at Δrakon and made him fall down. Seeing the kid falling down, he laughed again and turned his sword’s point towards Δrakon’s chest.

Δrakon’s eyes welled up from the pain. He was down on his back and a sword was hovering over his chest. Everything was over and he had not managed to kill even one of them. He didn’t care that soon he would be dead but he could not bear that he would die without managing to avenge the destruction of his village; he could not bear that he had failed to avenge Theron’s death.

It seemed that soon he would meet the old farmer but how would he be able to face him now that he had failed to kill his murderer. His rage grew even more, he was so angry he could not think how he could escape the dire situation he was in. He did not care anymore what would happen; the only thing he wanted was to find the power to kill the soldier in front of him.

Δrakon closed his eyes. Thorn laughed one more time and raised his sword above Δrakon’s chest.

Thorn, that’s enough, the chief’s voice sounded. First, we must check the kid and then we will kill him, do not let your anger get the best of your logic.

Thorn moved his sword away from Δrakon’s chest reluctantly and took a step backwards, showing that he had no intention to defy the chief’s orders but he stood close enough, not to give the kid any room to make any moves.

Δrakon had his eyes closed all this time and did not pay any attention to the soldiers’ conversation.

A thought was in his mind—how could he kill the soldier. There was no chance to reach his sword, the soldier was too close to him this time and he would stop him. With his bare hands, there was no way he could win against an armed enemy. Try as he could, he could not find a solution, he could not find a permutation that would bring the outcome he wanted.

He opened his eyes and looked at the soldier standing just a few metres away. The chief’s voice came again.

Thorn, bring him to me, it is time to see if he is the one we are looking for.

Thorn grabbed Δrakon by his shoulders and lifted him. Δrakon’s eyes wandered around while the soldier was lifting him to his feet; he did not try to fight back, he knew there was nothing else he could do. As soon as the soldier pushed him to walk towards the chief, his rage overflooded his mind and it became blank; full of rage and anger, he did not control his moves anymore. It all felt as if he was observing from a distance, as if he was out of his body and the body was moving on its own, his rage had taken control.

Without knowing why, he turned and looked at the soldier with an empty stare straight into his eyes; he made a move to grab his sword but Δrakon raised his arm unconsciously in front of the soldier’s face. Thorn remained still and confused with the kid’s moves, his arm resting on the hilt of his sword. Δrakon opened his palm and a glow lit his empty look. Aa small ball of fire flew from his hand and hit the soldier in the face.

The collision made Thorn fall to the ground and he started screaming from the pain, making spasmodic moves while his head was on fire. Three soldiers rushed to help him but when they managed to put out the fire, gigantic Thorn was dead.

Δrakon had no clue how he had managed to do what he had done; from the moment the soldier had raised him from the ground, it had not been him who had controlled his moves. Suddenly, he felt exhausted as if he had been running for miles and collapsed on his knees.

Behind, he heard the chief talking.

Is Thorn dead? When he got his answer, he continued, Shame, he was a good soldier; nevertheless, this confirms that this kid is the one we are looking for. He made a sign to one of the soldiers that had gone to help Thorn and added, Kill him so that we can finish with this bloody mission and get out of here.

The soldier, as soon as he heard the order, rose from the ground and drew his sword from its sheath and moved towards Δrakon. The kid did not have any power left to react neither any will to do so; he had killed Theron’s murderer, he had no other reason to run away from the inevitable ending. He had taken his revenge and he was ready to die.

The soldier reached Δrakon and raised his sword with one hand and with the other lowered the kid’s head so that he could cut his neck easier. Δrakon did not show any resistance, he was ready to die.

The soldier lowered his sword with force aiming at the kid’s neck, but halfway through his move, he stopped and fell down dead. Δrakon raised his head and he saw the other soldiers falling dead one after the other. Last fell the chief with his head separated from his neck, rolling away from his headless body, leaving behind a trail of red blood.

Δrakon looked around, trying to find who had killed all the soldiers. Then he saw a dark figure behind the dead chief. The stranger took a few steps towards Δrakon and then he disappeared. Immediately, the kid felt somebody behind him and a strong hit on the nape of his neck made him fall down unconscious.

Chapter 2

The Camp

It was early the next morning when the sun’s light came in through the window and fell on Δrakon’s eyes, waking him up; the kid tried to get up from his bed, but the pain on the back of his head stopped him. He looked around him with difficulty, still lying on the bed. He was trying to find something familiar with no luck; this big room, which was filled with beds ordered in two lines, six in each, was utterly unfamiliar to him.

He tried to remember how he had come to be in that room, and that was when his eyes darkened. He remembered the previous night, the sound of the villagers’ screams when the soldiers were slaughtering them. And then he remembered Theron’s death and the soldiers’ words; he had been too afraid and angry to pay any attention to them then. But now, all those emotions seemed so far away; now, he could consider what exactly those words had meant.

The soldiers had come to his village in order to find something…no, they had come to find someone. They had come to the village for him. He couldn’t understand what all that meant, but he knew that somebody wanted him dead and he was willing to burn an entire village to make it happen.

That meant that the villagers, all those Δrakon knew in his life, all of those innocent people had died unjustly and the only reason was him.

He gathered whatever power he had left and rose from bed, the pain on his head had started to subside. He stopped thinking about last night’s slaughter, he couldn’t bear the thought that he was the cause of it anymore. He hadn’t managed to remember how he had gotten in that room yet. As soon as he gained his balance, he decided he had to find someone and ask where he was.

He had taken just a few steps towards the door when suddenly, the door opened from the other side and a tall, thin woman appeared. Based on her appearance, Δrakon guessed that she was middle-aged or even older; in contrast with most women of her age in the village, her look had no trace of warmth or kindness. Her look was serious but Δrakon could see and sense something else behind it, although he couldn’t understand what exactly it was.

Her pose and her clothes were very different from those Δrakon was accustomed to. Her pose was stable and reserved, discipline and readiness. Her clothes were dark and tight.

The woman came into the room and closed the door behind her. Then she looked at Δrakon, who was a few metres away from his bed, and told him in a steady tone, You shouldn’t get up from the bed, you haven’t been healed fully yet. Lie down.

Her tone was authoritative and didn’t give any space to Δrakon to voice any objection to her command, but he had questions and he needed answers.

Where am I?

This isn’t the time for questions, kid, lie down on your bed.

I want first to know where I am and who brought me here.

The only reason you are in this place is because I owed a favour to the man that brought you here, but don’t believe even for the slightest moment that you will receive any special treatment. In this place, discipline is vital and we will make sure you will acquire it; now lie down on the bed till you are told to get up. You will need as much rest as you can get.

As soon as she finished saying this, the tall woman went out of the room and closed the door behind her. Δrakon wanted to follow her, he wanted to get out of the room in order to find the answers he wanted but he knew it was better to do as he was told, for the time being at least. He lay down on the bed and waited staring at the ceiling.

A pale and thin man came into the room at noon and brought him some food; the man didn’t look Δrakon in the eyes, not even for a moment, neither did he answer any of his questions. The food was plenty to satiate Δrakon’s appetite, it comprised boiled meat and potatoes. He ate his meal gluttonously, he was exhausted and famished because he hadn’t eaten anything the whole day. The food was badly cooked and it had no taste, but Δrakon was grateful for it.

Most of the time, Δrakon stared at the ceiling and tried to not think of anything; it was hard but compared to how hard it was to face all that had happened the previous night, it seemed really easy. It was getting dark when the door of the room opened for the third time that day and seven boys entered, roughly the same age as Δrakon, two or three of them seemed older and maybe some of them were younger than him. One of them sat on the bed next to Δrakon’s bed; he was puny and his hair was red, the same colour as the blazing fire. He sat on his bed without talking and didn’t look towards Δrakon at all.

Some of the other kids started to talk among themselves while others lay down on their bed. The kids’ clothes were shabby and torn, but they were well-made clothes from expensive fabric or it seemed like that to Δrakon under the candlelight and the scarce light coming from outside while the sun had almost set.

Δrakon sat up on his bed and turned towards the kid with the red hair.

Can you tell me where are we, what is this place?

The kid turned and looked at him for a few moments with a tired and empty stare, then he turned his head again in the other direction. Δrakon, seeing his reaction, tried again.

My name is Δrakon, will you tell me yours?

The boy looked at him again with his black eyes but this time he answered in a weak and fragile voice, Phoenix, my name is Phoenix.

Δrakon could barely hear Phoenix’s answer, but he managed to hear the boy’s name.

Phoenix, right? So Phoenix, can you tell me what is this place? I am here since morning and no one will tell me anything.

It is a camp, a training camp.

A training camp, for what are they training you?

For the royal garrison.

What is the royal garrison?

Where are you from that you haven’t heard of the royal garrison? They are the elite warriors among the elite ones. Only warriors with extraordinary abilities are accepted in the royal garrison.

You?

Yes, all of us who are here. In order to be accepted in a camp as this one, you must be the offspring of a noble family.

And your families sent you here?

"Yes, it is a