It had been a half a day of riding and the edge of the Drake's wood was in sight, the second largest sprawling forest within the kingdom. Taking the direct road, he knew would be too risky, for he knew not where the invaders had scouts or patrols roaming their newly conquered territory. The main problem would be the river. There was one bridge north and one to the south, below the forest. The northern bridge was likely where parts of the invader's forces went and the southern one lay close to the capital, so that too was not an option. He would just have to try and find his luck in the forest. Perhaps he could find some part of the river he could cross safely with his horse.

Sighing, he rolled his shoulder back and forth as he rode onwards into the forest. His muscles were sore from carrying the weight of his armor all day long. It was a weight he was well used to from all his years of fighting and training in it, and yet it was not meant to be worn while just traveling. He would not dare take it off however. Any moment the need for combat could arrive, a combat in which he would no doubt be outnumbered. To be without armor then would be a death sentence, no matter his skill.

Henry hoped that the invader's advance had not been too swift and that some sort of Albien resistance could be formed along the river. Some resemblance of a chance had to be there, he knew. If it weren't for that the gods would not have brought him back. For the past hours he did wonder why him though. Why not the grandmaster, for example? What could he truly do that would end up saving Albia. He never was a leader of men, only a soldier, a knight of a dragon. It was a highly esteemed position that much was true, but how could he lead. He just hoped that once he came back to Caer Morgraig there would be plenty of others to take that role for him.

As he got closer to the woods a feeling began to grow in his gut. The leaves had begun to tumble to the ground, orange and yellow colors swarming the forest floor. The trees were sparse on the outskirts but quickly looked as if they became tighter further inside, blanketing out most of the sun light. At first he could not place where the feeling was coming from. It seemed like a regular autumn forest. Falling leaves, and absence of any birdsong. Perhaps it was simply the eerie silence that unnerved him.

When he crossed the first trees on the outskirts his horse began to grow antsy. It was pulling its head this and that way, clearly not wanting to take another step into the forest. “Easy boy, easy!" Henry urged his mount, softly stroking the horse's neck. “It is just a forest. Any wolfs around won't dare strike, trust me." He spoke in a soft tone. The stallion seemed to calm somewhat, but still seemed to have the desire to be anywhere else. Henry pressed on regardless. He had to get home and the forest was the only reliably safe option compared to the open road.

Then, mixed in with the scents of the forest, he caught the faint coopery smell of blood.

It gave him reason to pause for a moment and sniff at the air. No longer did he smell it, as it must have been some wind gust that blew it his way. That or he was simply paranoid. Even if there was blood it could merely be the aftermath of a predator's hunt gone well. Why would Briinaborien's scout through the woods anyway and what would they seek to kill there? Despite the innate lack of reason for danger to lurk ahead, he drew his longsword from its sheath, hoping he wouldn't have to use it as he urged his horse further into the forest. Again the scent of blood hit him, clearer this time, as the wind blew his way again.

Not much further he spotted the source of the smell. The Grasp on his sword tightened at the sight of several dead men lining the ground, their red blood adding the variety of colored leaves. “What in Arthen's name…" He mumbled to himself as he stared. There were ten in total, all of them wearing differing qualities of armor. Some wore only a gambeson while one man wore parts of plate above his mail armor. That one's armor did not seem to stop whatever wished to kill him though, as his head was missing, just like his arm. The other men did not look much better. What colors they were flying was hard to tell, but by the goggle like faceplate design of the helmet of one man he could tell these were Briinaboriens.

“So not Briinaboriens that killed someone." He mused to himself as he nudged his horse in the midst of the carnage while trying to look around the area. There were thick bushes all over that can be used to hide an ambush quite nicely. “But someone or something killed Briinaboriens. It surely was no human…" His eyes widened when he spotted that one of the men was partly burned, as if hit by sudden burst of dragon flame that trying not to start a forest fire. That could mean Cyrvanyx and Arylaryl could be in the area! It was a hopeful thought in his heart, a hope that he could find out if his son was indeed not dead. However, he knew it would not make sense for them to travel south.

A dragon did this, that much was sure, but it had to be one not affiliated with the order. Henry dismounted and took the horse by the reins. He had to take a closer look. Once he bound parts of the reins around his arm he kept looking around for anything that may lead him to the dragon who did this. Usually not a smart way to tie himself to the horse like that, but if it ran off with all his things in the saddle bags he may as well give up. It all looked rather fresh, like it happened barely some hours ago. Not only that, but he could tell from how some of the men were torn apart that this was not some defensive fight for survival on the dragon's part. One man was cleaved in two, another lost both arms and a leg, another had his arm ripped off alongside his shoulder. This was clearly an act of rage. He'd seen it before from dragons, it was unmistakable.

When at last he spotted some blood trailing away from the carnage he smiled a little. Either a man got away somehow or the dragon got hurt, although not much by how difficult it was to see the blood trickles. Henry gave a worried glance at his horse. He decided to tie it to a nearby tree instead before following the blood trail further in the woods.

With his longsword in hand he treaded carefully, trying to spot footprints or paw prints from a dragon. The thick underbrush in that direction made it hard to see at first. Something sure did come through the bushes though, broken in as they appeared. Before he could take no more than a few steps, he heard a loud growl from deeper within the woods, making the horse neigh in fear and tear at the rope. Henry sheathed his sword, some hope rising within him. Finding a dragon, any dragon, would help immensely. For any dragon in Albia bears the same enemies as he did.

He peered in the direction of the growl and saw a hint of green in-between the now orange and red leaves. “Hey there, Dragon! I mean you no harm!" Henry called out in draconic, holding up both his hands. The green mass froze. Two golden eyes soon came into view, glaring at him. “I am knight of the dragon. Name's Henry Morgraig, and you?"

“None of your business, human." A deep growly voice responded. He was coming closer, still in a low stance with his head on Henry's eye level. As the dragon came closer and more into view he was surprised by how big he was. Most dragons do not get bigger than perhaps a large warhorse. This one could be compared more to a small carriage in Henry's mind. Standing next to him his head would only almost reach his shoulders. His emerald green scales seemed to make a good camouflage were it not for fall coloring all the leaves different. “Why would a knight of the dragon just wander around the forest?"

“Why would a dragon just kill some scouts? Were you attacking them or the other way around?" Henry returned some questions of his own, remaining standing in one spot in a relaxed pose while the dragon was walking around him like a predator circling its prey. Silence lay heave in the air as the dragon did not respond, merely glaring at him while the horse was losing its mind. Silently Henry hoped it would tear loose and run off with all his supplies and the greatsword.

When the dragon stood in the area where the men lay slain he stopped, still not taking his eyes off of him. Henry sighed. “Right, Suppose I go first then. How well informed on the war are you? I mean, surely you know the capital fell, right?" Henry asked, raising an eyebrow. One single slow nod came from the dragon, his eyes still staring into his own.

 “Right." He cleared his throat. “Well… There was a horrible disaster at Dragonstone Castle. As far as I know, I am the only survivor…" He talked quick and left out the details. He could not bear to think about it any longer than he needed. What he noticed also was a twitch in the dragon's demeanor. His posture faltered and his ears lowered slightly. Quickly he went on. “However two dragons managed to escape. On their way to the highlands right now I imagine. Just so happen that I woke up after the fighting was done. I should be dead but…" He held his arms out wide, shrugging. “Guess the gods are not done with me yet."

Again there was something in the dragon's expression that changed. Henry spent enough time around dragons to judge their faces, the eyes, the ears and the frills. There seemed to be some relief within his eyes, although he was doing a mostly good job at hiding his emotions. Silence, yet again, as Henry folded his arms locking eyes with the green dragon. He could practically see the thoughts going through his mind in that moment. Maybe not so good at hiding it after all. What he just told him must have gotten to him. “Well?" Henry raised his eyebrows at him. “Go ahead!" He said, with a brief chuckle.

“With what?" The dragon cocked his head, the emotions in his eyes fading away.

“Well it's quite clear to me you have more questions about Dragonstone. I will not enjoy it, but… go ahead. Not like you are answering any of my questions." He spoke as he took his eyes off him, making his way to his horse. The poor animal needed to be calmed before the presence of the dragon indeed tear loose and run off. He could feel the dragon's eyes peering at his back while he did his best to calm the horse with soothing sounds and touches. No questions came his way in the time it took him to get his horse to stop tear valiantly at its leash. When at last he managed to do get the stallion calm and collected he heard a shuffle from behind. A single glance confirmed that it was merely the dragon sitting down, still watching him, meeting his eyes during his brief glance.

Finally, after that moment while Henry took out some fresh berries he foraged to feed the horse he heard the dragon speak a question. “Do you know the names of the dragons that escaped?" His tone was uneasy, strangely filled with hope. Hide as he well as he might try, Henry was sure the dragon had someone at the order he knew or was perhaps even related to.

However, he would not press the matter and answered quick and precise. “Of course I do." Henry responded as he turned to face the great dragon. “Cyrvanyx and Arylaryl."

The green dragon closed his eyes and exhaled a breath Henry had not realized he was holding. The posture of seem to ease right away, wings sagging and muscles relaxing. Part of Henry wanted to ask who of the two he had a relationship with, although he had a vague idea, but he chose to keep quiet instead, feeding the berries to his horse. “Good." Henry just heard the dragon utter after some time and then walk away as if they were not having a conversation.

“Wait!" Henry yelled after him right away, making him pause and huff in what sounded like annoyance. “Where are you going?"

“To find a better place to spread my wings so I can take to the skies. Where I go then is none of your business." The green dragon turned his head away once more. Before he could get anywhere Henry continued talking.

“But maybe it could be my business! I saw the men you killed. Briinaboriens, by the looks of it. We obviously have the same enemies, dragon." Henry scoffed slightly, gesturing wildly all around him. “Damn, all of Albia, men, dragons even the kobolds have a common enemy right now. You were killing these men for a reason beyond self-defense I wager…" He paused briefly to see what the dragon would do.

His head was still turned away, but he stopped his retreat, both ears swiveled towards Henry attentively. There was a wonderful opportunity here. “Why do not find a way to kill more of them in a much more organized manner? I am traveling to Caer Morgraig right now, to join with my family and find a way to get this damn war back under control. I do not know what you may have lost to them and neither will I ask, but think on it. With the order gone there are no dragons to fight within our army, if we can scrape one together at all that is. Now imagine we arrive there together, the last knight of the dragon alongside a dragon such as yourself, big and imposing. It may just rekindle hope. We can fight them, together." Henry spoke from the heart all the way, taking a deep breath at the end of his short speech.

The dragon's ears twitched, as did his tail tip. Funny, Henry thought, Cyrvanyx sometimes had the same twitches when he was deep in thought. “I am not asking you to bow to the nobles like some vassal. I merely ask that you come with me. If we get there you can always just fly off to wherever your wings may carry you."

Once more he heard an exhale from the dragon. Henry's best guess was that it was amusement, but it was hard to judge without a face to read from. After some time, the dragon turned not just his head, but his full body around. “You speak draconic well for a lowlander, human." The dragon commented with a strange undertone.

Henry exhaled a chuckle and smirked. “Lowlander? Well, I suppose if you grow up in the highlands anyone who does not is from the lowlands, eh? I'll have you know it is family tradition to learn dragonkind's language from early on." He rested his hands on his hips as the dragon nodded slowly, meeting his eyes.

“You are not the usual lowlander, Henry. I accept. We may travel together, but we do so on foot. I will not bear you on my back alongside your things like some pack mule." His expression still held some uncertainty that glinted in his eyes, but perhaps the dragon did not often work together with humans. “I have never dabbled in human politics, but… if the goals of your kin and me align I may yet do so. Bring me to this 'Caer Morgraig' and if your companions are worthy of my claws I may offer them in the coming conflict." The dragon bowed his head in acknowledgment of their deal and Henry did the same.

“Now, my I at least know your name? Calling you 'dragon' the whole time will become rather tiresome." Henry added as he turned on his heels towards his horse.

“As adequate as your draconic is you seem to be lacking in knowledge of our tradition." The dragon said with some disappointment in his voice. “I follow the old tradition of 'Arthenax's claws', my home clan, in which-“

“Your name shall only be given to those deserving of it. Be that friends, family or trusted allies. Thus often a moniker was given to use as a name instead for those who did not yet earn the right to hear nor speak the true name." Henry turned his head to see a draconic face, looking at him surprised. “So, what's yours?"

Blinking his eyes, the dragon recomposed himself from the surprise. “My what?"

“Your moniker? A name I can use at least instead of just 'dragon'?" Henry asked with a slight chuckle as he carefully undid the leash for his horse, whispering soothingly to it, hoping he will get used to the big green dragon. Some silence from the dragon followed his question. While he was just done untying the knot the dragon spoke up, forcing Henry to hold back a laugh.

“You may call me 'the emerald tempest'." The dragon said smugly. Henry looked back to see him standing there, wings slightly spread, smiling.

Still Henry held back from laughing at both the name and then the pose. He looked like he was posing for some epic painting, his oh so grand title engraved at the bottom. “Lovely." He said at last, clearing his throat as he managed to choke his laughter back. “Did you come up with that on the spot, just now?"

The 'emerald tempest' huffed in disapproval and threw his head to the side, an expression Henry knew was akin to rolling one's eyes. “Of course I did not just make that up. You are not the first human in these parts I talk to, you know? Just the first that seem to have bothered learning draconic." The dragon furled his wings again. Before Henry could comment on what the dragon said, he already went on. “So? What are you waiting for? Lead the way to this castle of yours. I will trail you from the skies once we leave this forest. Until then, I follow on my paws."

Henry slowly nodded in understanding, chuckling at the dragons seemingly sudden eagerness to get going. “Alright then, Emerald tempest." He said, doing his best to restrain to urge to mock the name or laugh after he said it. William could have come up with that one. No! A better one. Henry thought to himself as he mounted his horse. “I lead, you follow." With that said, a smirk on his face as he looked back towards the frowning dragon, Henry spurned the stallion onwards, thankfully seeming calmer around the predator so close to him.

On the rather short path out of the wooded area the dragon did not speak a word. Neither did Henry. It was fine for him if the 'emerald tempest' wanted to appear all mysterious and threatening. Plenty of dragons were around Albia who did not trust humans within the kingdom, just like there were men who thought little of dragons. It was sad to see for Henry, having studied the ancient stories, both history and legends, when the dragon clans worked together with the Albien crown. What really happened all those centuries ago to divide the foundation of their realm so grievously.

When those thoughts came to mind, thoughts of the past, Henry did speak up just as they left the edge of the forest. “Have you ever heard the story of the last Albien emperor? The one they dubbed 'Dragonsbane' in the history books?" Henry frowned at his own words. To think that all these years later a foreigner bearing that same moniker as a badge of honor instead of shame brought down the dragon order, the last remnant of greatness from the age of the Albien empire, suddenly made him angry in a burst of bitter frustration.

The dragon responded with a snarl. “Doesn't everyone? Are you trying to test my history knowledge for the fun of it?" Henry wondered in that moment of the green scaled bastard was capable of not sounding irritated for one second.

“No." Henry groaned, taking a deep breath as he stopped his horse. Behind him he could see the dragon stop as well, some manner of confusion writ across his draconic features. “I just wonder what… what this war would be like if all that never happened. If the 'Dragonsbane' did not end the dragon king's bloodline. Surely the clans would still support the crown, at least in some manner. Maybe the empire would not have fallen, or at least lasted longer…"

When Henry remained there in thought for a while, looking back at the dragon, his expression of confusion seemed to ease a little before it become an irritated frown yet again. “Why do you muse over the past now of all times. That is well over a thousand years old history. It is the present I care about." The green dragon walked past Henry, frowning at the looming form as his horse neighed in fear due to how close the dragon suddenly was. “And as far as I can see presently Albia's so called crown is in a very bad shape, especially while there is no king to wear it." He glanced back at Henry for a moment, the horse once more calm. “And no dragons and so called 'dragon knights' to be the guidance on the field of battle. Musing upon what could have been won't do you or me any good." The dragon was already spreading his wings as he spoke his last words. “I am starting to like the idea of being the only dragon to safe a bunch of humans begging for help. Maybe they'll build me a statue."

The last thing Henry saw was of the dragon's muzzle was a smirk, full of amusement and smugness, before he took to the sky on two great leathery wings. Barely Henry kept his horse under control, peering up at the dragon flying higher and higher. “Did you just make a joking remark? Or were you serious?" He muttered under his breath, unable to contain a brief chuckle. Maybe there was a chance the travel with the big bastard would not be a too awful. If the indeed the 'emerald tempest' kept his word. Silently he prayed to Arthen that the dragon would indeed follow his trail.

As the journey west continued his thoughts did wander towards Caer Morgraig. What would they do once home? Would his uncle be there with other nobles, planning what would come next? Surely every possibility must be exhausted in these trying times. Mercenaries, for example. Forging new alliances. Gods, I hope the Norsemen have upheld their call to war even with our king dead. Surely their High king wishes to avenge his sister, our queen. Henry shook his head. No time to dwell on maybes like that. In due time he would see for himself if their longships landed on the riverbank at Caer Morgraig with, hopefully, thousands of eager Northmen.

However, a man cannot simply stop his thoughts completely, thus he thought of the past, the dragon clans and Cyrvanyx. Maybe he, Ary and William are well on the way to the highlands by now. Thinking about the state Albia is in Henry did not put it past Cyrvanyx to try and persuade the dragon clans to join the war outright. He chuckled at the prospect.

Nonetheless, he held a quiet hope in his heart that maybe, just maybe, his old friend was on the way to the highlands with his son in tow to do just that.