Merle walked through the doors of a tavern. He looked around, slicking his dark hair back while the locals eyed him. He stood in the center of attention with a smirk on his busted lip.

  “You fools can’t be serious. It’s me, Merle!” He furrowed his brows.

  The room shifted into a burst of raucous laughter. A man pounded his hand into the table, almost going teary-eyed with laughter.

  “This has got to be a joke, you’re the absolute opposite of a knight!” A man said.

  “Yes, I know this is out of character.” He added.

  “But, listen up, we’ve got two things to go over.” Merle grabbed a stool and sat.

  “Rumor has it that there have been two dragon sightings. I talked to one of the spies from Phithia who was in Leviara a few days ago. She believes one of the hybrids is gone, which leaves the other one, Veyric. I’ve seen him for myself—he’s got a heavy hand and a short fuse.” Merle explained.

  “All right? Why would we give a shit about two hybrids? There ain’t any money in that.” Another man added.

  “See? This is why you should read more.” Merle slicks his hair back again.

  “Dragonblood. Do you know how much coin would be in our pockets for a single vial of it?” Merle said.

  “How much?” Another asked.

  The entire tavern went silent, waiting for Merle to answer.

  “Enough to buy yourself four manors and more. It’s illegal here, but desperately sought out in Iuzen. If anyone’s up to the challenge, it’d help the entire underground.”

  “That’s an offer too good to pass up, but I’m not willing to try. It’s a God damned dragon. Everything I heard about them doesn’t make it look worth it.” Another added to the conversation.

  The tavern broke out into a chatter of agreement. Yuko sat alone in the tavern, her ears tuned to every word.

  “Fair enough, we can talk about that sometime else, then. Along with today’s Amber Festival, King Alan has left his manor with none other than Xena. He intends to make a public statement sometime today. You all know what this means, right?” Merle said.

  Once again, the tavern was hushed into silence, each person hanging onto Merle’s every word.

  “This is another chance for the underground to rise. We’ll make him pay for that day, just as we always wanted to! It was the day he dehumanized us, the day he took precious lives from us with his gutless knights! It was the day we lost Leviara!” Merle stood up from the stool.

  “We barely stood a chance last time. You know that my daughter was killed in that fight. I don’t want any more meaningless deaths in our community. We don’t have reasonable access to food and water, either—it’s all come down to stealing. If we fight again, it’ll be impossible for us to survive down here, you know that, don’t you?” A woman’s soft blue gaze met Merle’s.

  “And what do you think will change if we do nothing? With each passing day, our resources will thin, while everyone else gets fresh food, and water so clean it sparkles.” Merle said.

  “We have to keep rebelling. I’ll have to call in a favor somehow, or someway. But we must do something while we still have the chance to make an impact. King Alan won’t be returning to his manor without fearing the underground.” He added.

  Merle exited the tavern, and it was deafeningly quiet. Everyone could hear the sound of Yuko sharpening her katana with the whetstone.

  “No matter how right you all may think he is, we will not survive another fight with the Leviara Guard,” Isabelle said, tying her dark hair into a low ponytail.

  “What the hell are we supposed to do, then? No other kingdom wants to help us because that swine told them we’re all vicious animals.” A man said.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  “Our best chance is getting a vial of blood from that dragon and selling it overseas. But there’s no way in hell any of us can take a dragon on.” A woman budded in.

  The tavern continued to throw ideas back and forth. To Yuko, it was just background noise. She sheathed her katana and put away the whetstone. Then, she stood and headed toward the doors of the tavern, hood pulled firmly over her head.

  Veyric was sitting against the walls in King Alan’s dungeon. He looked at the cell he was once held in, his jaw clenched, feeling a sense of heaviness in his chest.

  “This is what it feels like on this side?” He leans his head back up against the wall.

  He looked over to the bag Echthron gave him. His hand reached for the buckle, opening it. Reaching inside the bag, his hand gripped something large. Veyric slid a big hardcover book out of the bag. Flipping it over to the front was a degrading image. He squinted his eyes, trying to discern what it was.

  That’s when he realized it was a fading illustration of a dragon on the book cover. He pulled it open to the first page. Veyric’s eyes flashed—the first page was filled with drawings of full-sized dragons, wyverns, and symbols that looked familiar, but distantly foreign. While skimming through, his gaze landed on a page labeled, “Tarragon Arts.”

  This entire section of the book was filled with illustrations of stances and combat arts performed by his kin. Every tarragon art he looked at had a thorough explanation of what each one did and how to utilize it.

  His heart raced, reading over every detail until it made sense.

  The door to the dungeon cranked open, and the silence of it was filled with crinkling armor and footsteps.

  “Veyric?” Xena called.

  She saw him sitting quietly with the book in his lap. He turned his head toward her.

  “Hey. Aren’t you supposed to be with King Alan?” He said.

  “Well, we came back because it’ll take a while for everything to be set up. So, Echthron gave you a book?” Xena walked over and sat with him.

  “Yeah, it’s got plenty of information about dragons in it. Next time I see him, I’ll thank him.” Veyric flipped the page.

  “I hope that if I become stronger and use my strength for the right things, fewer people will fear me.” He added.

  “That’s certainly something to hope,” Xena said.

  “Everyone has the same look in their eyes. A look of disgust, or a look of fear, whenever I’m near. Even if they try to hide it, I feel it. They don’t want me here, and it’s getting harder to figure out my purpose. What did she see in me when sending me here?” He said while flipping through the book.

  “You’re still young, Veyric. When you finally spread your wings, the world will unveil itself to you,” Xena said.

  “And trust me, there’s plenty to see, especially for someone like you. Don’t fear your history, strive to rewrite it.” She adds.

  “How’d you learn to be so encouraging?” He asked.

  “Had to encourage myself, because there wasn’t anyone to do it for me, like I am for you. I was surrounded by people who wanted to see me quit. I couldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing that.” She said.

  “That adds up,” Veyric said.

  “I also wanted to apologize for letting that out on you earlier.” She said.

  “No hard feelings about that. I could tell you were stressed. When will King Alan make his public statement?” Veyric said.

  “It’s tonight. He still has time to rehearse while the servants set things up.” Xena stood.

  “Come on, let’s go. You don’t belong down here.” She offered her hand.

  Veyric slid the book back into the bag, taking her hand to stand. Then, they left the torch-lit dungeon.