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Clang! Clang! Clang!
The warning bell echoed throughout Garas Harbor, but it was already too late. With a terrifying roar, a great dragon ravaged the streets, its bloodthirst insatiable. The smell of smoke, blood, and salt water mixed in the air—a pungent odor that overwhelmed the senses. The screams of the citizens were cut short by their horrible deaths.
The harbor’s soldiers…they were already dead, their bodies strewn about at the gate. Some were ripped apart by the dragon’s claws, others were charred beyond recognition, and still others rested in the belly of the beast.
A single messenger, a young boy barely 14, was the only hope for what was left of Garas Harbor. He rode his horse through the forest towards Fort Siane, pure adrenaline preventing him from completely falling apart. He had to make it in time. He just had to. His brothers-in-arms would not have died in vain.
General Artemis Carrow, affectionally known as Ari by her closest companions, stood silent in front of her company. They were running through drills at their secondary headquarters, awaiting reports from their scouts about several cerberi she’d been tracking. As per her instructions, magic was barred from this exercise.
It had a singular purpose: to accentuate their strengths and weaknesses. She noticed the strange (even haphazard at times) but adaptable techniques in some of her more…unorthodox soldiers, while others dedicated themselves to a refined but stubborn method reminiscent of a military background.
She sniffed the air, her eyes flashing suddenly. She held her hand up, ending the drill. “A messenger…” she said vaguely, moving swiftly out of the courtyard towards Fort Siane’s one and only entrance. Artemis didn’t even look back to see if her company was following; she fully expected them to do so. Messengers rarely ever came to Fort Siane unless the Hellhounds were desperately needed, and she had a terrible feeling in her gut.
Her timing was impeccable; the young messenger rode through the gate breathless and terrified the same moment the Rose Company arrived. His horse heaved, its eyes bulging. The young boy, marked with the characteristics of a soldier from Garas Harbor, nearly fell to the ground trying to dismount the steed. He was shaking, and the horse…Artemis knew it was too far gone. It was practically staggering, and the stable boys could barely get it to move another inch.
She looked away, focusing on the messenger. Commander Rolan was already speaking to him, so she simply waited. After mere seconds, Rolan’s jaw went slack, and the princess’s patience snapped. She marched forward, taking the boy by the shoulder and whirling him around towards her.
“What needs to be done, boy?” she said sharply, though not unkindly. He was pale, his lips chapped with dehydration. He would be taken care of after his message was properly delivered. He looked bewildered as he suddenly realized who was speaking to him. Rolan, for his part, answered her question.
“A dragon is attacking Garas Harbor as we speak,” he said quietly, as if he couldn’t quite believe it himself. The general straightened, her eyes narrowed towards her friend. She knew he was telling the truth, but every rational part of her screamed that it wasn’t possible. They had catalogued every dragon and its territory; there wasn’t a single one remotely near Garas Harbor.
But there was no time for questioning. The Rose Company had a job to do. She turned back to her soldiers, raising her voice loud and clear. “Today, we kill a dragon. Take only what you need. We leave in ten minutes.” She refused to let any of her own fear leak into her voice. She had to be strong; that was her job. She also had to survive, though even the Rose Company had never killed a dragon before.
The warning bell echoed throughout Garas Harbor, but it was already too late. With a terrifying roar, a great dragon ravaged the streets, its bloodthirst insatiable. The smell of smoke, blood, and salt water mixed in the air—a pungent odor that overwhelmed the senses. The screams of the citizens were cut short by their horrible deaths.
The harbor’s soldiers…they were already dead, their bodies strewn about at the gate. Some were ripped apart by the dragon’s claws, others were charred beyond recognition, and still others rested in the belly of the beast.
A single messenger, a young boy barely 14, was the only hope for what was left of Garas Harbor. He rode his horse through the forest towards Fort Siane, pure adrenaline preventing him from completely falling apart. He had to make it in time. He just had to. His brothers-in-arms would not have died in vain.
General Artemis Carrow, affectionally known as Ari by her closest companions, stood silent in front of her company. They were running through drills at their secondary headquarters, awaiting reports from their scouts about several cerberi she’d been tracking. As per her instructions, magic was barred from this exercise.
It had a singular purpose: to accentuate their strengths and weaknesses. She noticed the strange (even haphazard at times) but adaptable techniques in some of her more…unorthodox soldiers, while others dedicated themselves to a refined but stubborn method reminiscent of a military background.
She sniffed the air, her eyes flashing suddenly. She held her hand up, ending the drill. “A messenger…” she said vaguely, moving swiftly out of the courtyard towards Fort Siane’s one and only entrance. Artemis didn’t even look back to see if her company was following; she fully expected them to do so. Messengers rarely ever came to Fort Siane unless the Hellhounds were desperately needed, and she had a terrible feeling in her gut.
Her timing was impeccable; the young messenger rode through the gate breathless and terrified the same moment the Rose Company arrived. His horse heaved, its eyes bulging. The young boy, marked with the characteristics of a soldier from Garas Harbor, nearly fell to the ground trying to dismount the steed. He was shaking, and the horse…Artemis knew it was too far gone. It was practically staggering, and the stable boys could barely get it to move another inch.
She looked away, focusing on the messenger. Commander Rolan was already speaking to him, so she simply waited. After mere seconds, Rolan’s jaw went slack, and the princess’s patience snapped. She marched forward, taking the boy by the shoulder and whirling him around towards her.
“What needs to be done, boy?” she said sharply, though not unkindly. He was pale, his lips chapped with dehydration. He would be taken care of after his message was properly delivered. He looked bewildered as he suddenly realized who was speaking to him. Rolan, for his part, answered her question.
“A dragon is attacking Garas Harbor as we speak,” he said quietly, as if he couldn’t quite believe it himself. The general straightened, her eyes narrowed towards her friend. She knew he was telling the truth, but every rational part of her screamed that it wasn’t possible. They had catalogued every dragon and its territory; there wasn’t a single one remotely near Garas Harbor.
But there was no time for questioning. The Rose Company had a job to do. She turned back to her soldiers, raising her voice loud and clear. “Today, we kill a dragon. Take only what you need. We leave in ten minutes.” She refused to let any of her own fear leak into her voice. She had to be strong; that was her job. She also had to survive, though even the Rose Company had never killed a dragon before.
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