Saga of the Dragon: Reign

[Alvakar]

The morning was dark, foreboding.

Alvakar woke after Rilya for the first time in years. He could smell the welcoming warmth of fresh buns, but his body was stiff. It took profound effort to sit up and whirl his legs over the side of the bed, where he sat for a moment before lifting his eyes to the window.

Either the sun was rising late or it was shadowed by heavy clouds. A grand effort had him standing, and a greater one had him downstairs for breakfast. His presence wasn't acknowledged until Rilya emerged from the kitchen, placing a small platter of fresh bread in front of him. She looked every bit the image of beauty, but Alvakar looked at her with defeated eyes.

"You've never looked at me that way before," she said cautiously. "Not in our many years."

He nodded, tried to restore his vitality by sheer force of will, but ended up shrugging instead. "The city bleeds. Everywhere I look I see the disheveled remains of Ettermire, not my home. It's been torn from my grasp."

She sat, but her eyes remained transfixed on him as if she were in some trance. It was eerily silent. Rilya's thoughts seemed loud in her head. "The city is your passion. This is the time when we need you most - if not Ettermire as a whole, then Laziv and myself. Your strength, love, is not enough to save everyone and everything. All you can do is your best, which is more than anyone will ever need from you."

"Mm?" Alvakar raised an eyebrow.

Rilya nodded and took a bun from the pan. "Laziv should be down soon. Make sure he gets to school on time." She rubbed his head, kissed it and left.

Alvakar reached out and took one for himself, taking in the scent before he dared bite it. He wondered if Rilya, who was surrounded by the smell every day, even enjoyed the taste of fresh baked bread anymore.

The telltale sound of stirring upstairs knocked him from his contemplation.

[Alvakar]

Alvakar walked the streets of Ettermire with more weight on his shoulders than he'd ever felt before. A doomcloud promising rain was approaching from the east, a blanket of darkness that kept the already dimly lit city moody.

The city was being steadily repaired around him, but the people maintained their melancholy way of moving. Only the children showed true signs of life as they ran through the streets, already having forgotten the scary noises outside of their windows only a few nights ago.

On his back was the Old Alerian shield, bouncing proudly with the emblem of Alerar emblazoned on its surface. Every morning for years, he had donned it proudly - now it was just a lump of steel against his spine. Something had changed in the drow, a realization that struck him like a train. He'd been wrong to support a single division of the army for so long. What Ettermire needed was unified defense, a single commander, a collective purpose and mantra.

Time passed and he was at the edge of the city, mid-noon with the ominous sky quivering, struggling to maintain each drop. He was in front of the Old Alerian outpost, a bunker of grey stone and a rugged oak door bearing the scars of old wars. Long blue drapes decorated with the Old Alerian emblem hung against either side of the door, and below them, two heavily-armored drow.

"Alvakar Kalizva, senior soldier rank six. I've need to speak with the commander," he said, his voice carrying the strong husk of a man forged with fire.

"Time is fleeting in the wake of the demon attack," responded one of the guards. "Do not take much of it. Commander Vadam has little to spare."

Vadam's outpost was as unimpressive within as it was without, a mere chamber as long as the street was wide, decorated with suits of armor, an amber desk and all manner of war memorabilia and awards. Alvakar approached the desk with stoic determination, stopping a few paces from it as he watched Vadam write feverishly. A moment passed as the drow tried to follow the writing, but it was in a language he didn't recognize.

"Yes?" Vadam finally asked, his writing not slowing. He had the raspy voice of an elderly elf, but was only a century older than Alvakar. He'd merely sustained a throat illness at an early age that he'd never fully recovered from.

"Commander, I am Alvakar Kalizva," he paused, unsure of how to proceed. Vadam continued to write as if he wasn't listening at all. "I've served the old army for all my days, sticking to the old rules and codes. I believe them truly, as much as I know how, but this recent attack exposed a weakness in our city that cannot be ignored."

"Mm," murmured the busy commander. "You propose a solution, soldier?"

Alvakar struggled, bothered by his commander's lack of interest in the conversation. All the same, he went on. "Re-unification of the army. A united defense against future threats, a united purpose and an end to this civil war."

Vadam finally stopped writing, looked up steadily. His face was leathery, creased with a mix of wrinkles and scars, with high cheekbones and shiny soil skin. His eyes were sunken and black, but his chin was strong despite the lack of meat on his face. "A pipe dream. As long as we both live, Alerar will not have a single unified army. The Kyorl live for war and the fight against the singing elves, not in the interest of defense. A lovely thought, but an impossible feat to accomplish."

"Not if we all remain silent!" responded Alvakar, somewhat vitalized by the positive response. "The Old Alerian army may be the first to step up and show a desire to reunite the armies. Now, as this wizard looms over us, is the perfect time."

"The others would take the sign of weakness and exploit us, through politics and word of mouth. We'd lose support from our city and look weaker still." Vadam sighed, revealed reading glasses from within a shirt pocket. Why he'd ignored them while he wrote, but produced them to get a better look at Alvakar, was anyone's guess. "It would be seen as a desperate attempt to end the strife, and we'd be tested. At this time, we can't pass a test from an army like the Kyorl, especially if they thought they could destroy us with one powerful swoop."

"Then what? Our options are a desperate few. Another attack will destroy our city and families, generations of legacy would be erased. Unless Alerar returns to the way it once was, the gaps in our barrier are easily exploited. Think now of what the Raiaeran singers will think, when they get word of how much impact those demons had. If they come seeking war, Ettermire will easily fall."

Vadam let it run through his head. He'd realized it himself, of course, but hearing it from the mouth of an elf whose name he'd already forgotten made a different kind of impact on him. "We've little chance of such unity. For years to come, the loyal would remain loyal to their cause. The city will take generations to come together once more, regardless. What are your daily duties, soldier?"

"City patrol, sir." Alvakar's passion seemed to explode from his eyes as he obliviously squeezed his hands into fists.

"I'd like you come by as a communicator-of-sorts to me. Patrol will still be your main duty, we simply have nobody to take your place there, but I'd like you to report to me on every second day, midday. I want you to tell me what you see and hear. As for now, I'll give it some thought."

Alvakar nodded, but still felt heavy. It wasn't enough. As Vadam looked back to his writing, however, the drow knew his time was over.