Arn strode across the grass, wet grass slipping in between his toes. His cloak fluttered behind him in the wind. He crossed the field, making a beeline to the palace. He climbed up the wooden stairs, looking down at the elves below him as he climbed the staircase around the twisting trunk.
At the top, he pushed his way into the room, turning to the guard on the left.
“Is he in stasis?”
He was referring to King Pataren, his father, who was lying on the bed with a faint green glow around him.
“Unfortunately, yes.” The guard replied, shifting uncomfortably.
“Then why am I here? All meetings are paused during the—” he stopped, noticing the letter held within the guard’s hands.
“The goblins just brought it. We thought you might want to read it.”
Arn opened the letter (the seal had already been broken by the guards, having been read through by them). It was from the dwarves, judging from the paper.
He read it once.
He read it again.
He looked up at the guard in disbelief. “It can’t say what it think it says.”
“Now you know why we called you,” the guard said. Arn studied him. Fit build, with a clean shaven face. A well defined face with shining eyes, actually. He—Arn stopped. He had to focus.
He rubbed his temples. “We can’t wake my father…”
“So…” the guard prompted him.
“I have to go in his place.”
1 week later…
Arn ducked his head under one of the low archways into the terrace. This spot was the centre of the known Dragonrealm, the closest meeting point of all the territories.
Arn nodded at the goblins standing around. They were filing their nails, playing games, but they were here. Strange. They never attended meetings.
He walked up to the table which contained a map of the Dragonrealm. Standing there was Enetri, the king of the dwarves.
“Where’s Antia and Vaine?” Arn asked, looking around. He had never met Vaine, only heard him from his father. Antia and Arn had been friends since their youth.
“Where’s your father?” Enetri responded gruffly, looking up at him.
“In stasis. I’m here in his place.”
“Great.”
The rumbling of water sounded behind them, like a tsunami emerging, and Enetri and Arn turned to see a wave splash onto the terrace, Antia atop it. It encircled her, keeping her fins wet. She leaned on the table.
“Where’s Vaine?” She asked in a thick merfolk accent, pushing a stray hair of seaweed off of her face.
Arn and Enetri both shrugged.
A goblin walked up to the three of them, two shy goblins hiding behind her.
“About that…these two might be able to help you with that.” She said, looking away from Antia, who was glaring at her.
Enetri nodded. “Speak.”
“So uh…hello mister and miss leaders, us Gobbos have something to tell you—” one of the goblins started to stutter, but the other cut him off.
“—The humans have gone insane.”
“What?” Arn asked, bewildered.
“We saw them with our very own eyes. They were skinning—stabbing, murdering—the dragons. Yelling about some god. Kark? Karnn? Either way, they crazy.”
The three leaders exchanged silent looks. “Do you have any evidence?” Enetri asked, and gasped when the sane goblin pulled a small bone knife out of his bag. The goblin handed it to Enetri, who took out a similar blade.
Enetri held up the two blades. “This is a direct match to the one we found in the dragon.”
They all sat in quiet thought.
Silence was broken by Arn. “This is a breaking of their treaty. We need to hold them accountable.”
“War?” Enetri asked.
“It’s the only solution. We’ll give them the option of peace first.”
Antia raised herself up. “The merfolk will not get involved in this.”
Arn looked at her, pleading.
“I do not trust these creatures,” she said, gesturing to the goblins. “They are liars.
Good luck.”
Antia raised the water and jumped backward, leaving only Arn, Enetri, and the goblins on the terrace.
Arn ran his fingers along the blade. “I’ll try to convince her. And if not?”
“Then we rally the troops regardless. They can’t be that bad.”
The two leaders walked out of the terrace, sunlight streaming against their backs.
“For the Dragonrealm.” Arn said as they parted.
