In a realm of knights and princesses, Beneš was one of the most powerful kingdoms, steeped in tradition and enchantment.

The country capital, Anir, prospered greatly and was the home of the royal family. Underneath their rule, all other ranks fell from the highest Duke to the lowliest street thief.

Many made their living in the seedy world of the underground markets and those who kept the many in line, the one in one-thousand, were courageous, skilled and honourable enough to bear the title of royal knight. 

Then there were the truly deadly creatures lurking amongst the nobility, always looking to increase their rank at any price. The Vaugrenards were one of the most infamous of these families. The house of Vaugrenard was not simply just one of the lesser noble houses, they were lenders, debt claimers and owners. Some even spoke of slavers, but such rumours weren't allowed to spread far.

And the head of the household, Vera Vaugrenard, was perhaps the second most feared of them all. Many whispers were spread around the city of her spies in the King's castle, or her dabbling in black magic, but most of this was written off as superstition.

No, every soul in Artois knew that the real threat, perhaps the person you would least like to cross paths with in the entire city, was their enforcer, Lailoken Vaugrenard, or Locke for short, so that you could scream his name as fast as possible when you saw him coming. Because if one day the black-armoured knight turned up at your doorstep, you would have something to be truly sorry about.

Locke was Vera's first and only son, with her ochre curls, and the family's piercing blue eyes. He was also well over six feet tall by a whole hand, heavy-set, and his strength far surpassed any other man's.

There is a misconception that big bellied men are merry or that they make merry. While often the case, Locke did not fit into that lovely ideal. He wood sooner throw a passerby into the river, Ula, that ran round the entire city of Anir, should they so much as utter the word ‘jolly’. 

Before becoming the Vaugrenard enforcer and debt collector, Locke had been a lean, handsome youth of the kingdom, one of the youngest knights in the country's history.

He had also been publicly dishonoured and discharged from the King's circle of knights, a normally prestigious position, without any public explanation. No one knew how a knight could be removed from one of the King's inner-most circles, but there were rumours on that too. None of which were good. This only added to the fear fueling Locke's terrible reputation.

At this moment most would ask why pay attention to the shadowy and merciless Vaugrenards when there was such a vast city of mysteries to explore? However, this is where the second portion of this story takes place.

While Lailoken Vaugrenard was eyeing the desolate streets of Anir's poorest with disinterest, another plot all together was forming.

Much was going on in the upper streets and Locke could here the buzz of preparation over the rooftops. He moved with a grunt and looked in the direction of the richer streets where a marvelous celebration was likely taking place. He, however, was currently concealed in one of the shady back alleyways.

It was too early in the evening for fireworks, but he spotted a few brightly coloured streamers and some lanterns being hung.

It was all in celebration of the king's eldest daughter. As it so happened, one month from this day, she would be turning eighteen and the search for her champion would be underway.

Once upon a time, kings would arrange the marriage of their children to other noble children, but in these self-proclaimed 'progressive' times in Beneš, a new form of trial was conducted.

There was a special challenge created for the first-born princess. She would write a list, a collection of names of her choosing, then she would be placed in a tower and her list of champions would have the chance of rescuing her.

However, that was not the most difficult part, for although the towers were far from civilization, often guarded by perilous mountains, or ravenous rivers, they were also guarded by an entirely different danger.

Dragons were rare and perhaps the most deadly of all magical creatures. There were few wild ones anymore, but tradition decreed pitting a champion against one was the only way to judge the worthy from the rest. So dragons were bread in small numbers usually, and one was chosen around the princess' birth for the day she turned eighteen. 

However, even the ones bred in captivity were incredibly vicious, and facing off against any dragon would surely only allow the strongest to succeed. It was an almost cruel compensation, the princess had the luxury of naming her champion, but if they were unworthy, they would not survive the brutal test.

It would be like sending them to their death.