(Year 0)

Falcondar City looked about the same at night as it did at day -- it was just darker, obviously, and a bit more smudgy. And instead of sweltering, it was freezing cold.

As I moved along the rooftop, I fought the urge to summon fire, just to provide a source of heat for this desolate pile of important nothing. “At least Shairisel believed in plants,” I muttered to myself, looking around at the rows of blockish buildings. I was a good distance from the castle, but not so far that the extravagant estates here couldn’t be watched by royal patrols. In essence, it was exactly where the nobility of Falcondar wanted to take up residence.

Only Falcondar nobility could put their heart into designing an estate that shows off their wealth, yet still make it look like a brown cube.

I didn’t have a particular destination -- I was still just amused that Raven Empire expected me to sleep all night long. But the residences of the nobility seemed like a fun place to explore more of.

Something sharp flashed through the air, grazing past my arm.

I skidded to a stop on the rooftop, whipping around.

The figure behind me wore no hood to hide his floppy bright ginger hair and piercing pale gold eyes. From the looks of him, he was probably under twenty years old, with a lanky form and fairly androgynous features. He wore a dark green shirt and black pants, and was armed to the teeth with what seemed to be every sort of thrown projectile that had ever been invented. All he was missing was a frying pan to complete the image.

I snorted. And I thought Kallista was bad. Although, to be fair, she probably carried at least this many weapons on her when actually out of headquarters. She seemed like the type. And apparently, so was whoever the hell this was.

“Well, hello then,” I said flatly.

“Hi!” he said a bit too cheerfully, his obnoxious countertenor voice ringing through the still night air.

“Aren’t you just enthusiastic.” I crossed my arms. “Care to explain the knife that was just thrown my way? I almost thought it came from your direction, but you clearly aren’t the sort for that.”

“It was a throwing star,” he corrected. “A distraction, albeit a painful one if ‘whoever threw it at you’ had wanted to make it painful. Throwing knives are designed to kill.” He paused, as if remembering my actual question. “And I just wanted to know what you were doing here, but you were going too fast to be stopped regularly.”

“Has it occurred to you that people move fast either because they’re going somewhere in a timely fashion and don’t want to be stopped, or are avoiding people and therefore still don’t want to be stopped? Dasdaka’s thunder, you’re lucky you’re not a crispy pile of-” I stopped myself. Not supposed to know I’m a Guardian. Right. After the attack on Falcondar Castle in a few weeks -- dear dragons, it was only a few weeks away -- everyone would know exactly who I was and what I wanted. But for now, I had to stay hidden.

“I think I have a right to know what’s going on if I hear someone thundering across my house like an entire herd of dragons,” the boy said, ignoring my last little comment. “Honestly, can you be any less sneaky?”

“I’m flattered by the comparison, even if dragons don’t move in herds.”

He snorted. “I don’t think there’s enough left to form a herd.”

I stiffened. “You little piece of-”

“I’m actually an inch taller than you,” he inserted, raising a finger. “So if I’m little, what are you?”

How the hell does he know my height? Or did he just make up a number to try to sound cool?

“You’re five foot six by the way, if you didn’t know that.”

“I swear to the gods, if you don’t leave, you will be sorry.”

“Why are you swearing to the gods?” he inquired, seeming genuinely curious.

“Why do you care?”

“I just thought swearing to the gods would be, like… frowned upon by Shairiselan culture or something. But it’s cool.”

I froze. “What makes you think I’m Shairiselan?”

He actually snorted at this. “Okay, first of all, you’re skulking about a night, which is respectable but not something most people do unless there’s a reason they have to. You’re wearing a mask, which again would only be done if necessary, but neglected to wear gloves, so I can still see that your skin is that cool black color, which probably makes you close to Shairisel royalty. Then there was the ‘crispy’ comment, implying you had the power to make me crispy as said, which makes you a Guardian. Beyond that, you knew a fact about dragons most people wouldn’t and got super defensive when I talked about how they’re dying out. And lastly…” he paused, taking a big breath… “everyone who’s anyone in Falcondar knows who my family is and would have recognized me as Harrier Valetellire. But you’re not from around here. You’re Kiridan Shairisel.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so I settled for glaring.

“Don’t give me that look, I won’t tell a soul.”

“I can’t trust that.”

Harrier pouted at me. “Why?”

“I don’t know, maybe because you’re a weirdo who chucks a shiny thing at me-”

“-throwing star, and I didn’t chuck-”

“-in the middle of the night, acts like it’s normal, then proceeds to tell me my exact height, heritage, power, and full name after a minute of conversation. I have a right to be doubtful. So if you’re willing to let me bind your hands, blindfold you, and take you back to my headquarters to be contained until your existence is no longer relevant, I won’t have to get you back for the boomerang from earlier.”

“Throwing star, and it’s been… about two and a half minutes of conversation.”

“Is that two minutes and blah blah seconds since the javelin, or from when we started talking?”

“Throwing star, and what do you think ‘conversation’ means?”

I groaned. “Anyway, can I take that as a no? I’d really like to punch you.”

He scratched his head. “I don’t really have a choice, do I? So yeah, I think so.”

I raised a hand.

Harrier moved first, hand moving to his belt and pulling out two throwing stars -- I was pretty sure they were throwing stars, at least. With a flick of his wrist, he sent one at me in an overhand throw. I barely skirted to the side, only escaping because he’d aimed at my shoulder rather than a vital part.

Alright, that’s enough of that. I channeled fire from my hand into a tight ball. Unfortunately, its glow illuminated the surroundings, a very obvious unnatural source of light. “Dasing hell.” I threw it as quickly as possible, but the troublesome noble jumped out of the way. I closed my fist as soon as the fire impacted the roof, making sure it didn’t spread.

“Not my fault if you get discovered,” Harrier noted.

“Screw you.” I reached to pull Asteri off my back.

The other star came whistling my way, just catching my elbow while it was bent up behind my head. “Dasing power of the-” I hissed, but managed to grab Asteri and hold it in front of me.

For a few moments, neither of us moved. Then my frustration boiled over, and I lunged, charging across the rooftop. Harrier yelped, dancing backward, then jumping to the side when he was about to fall off the edge of the roof. I turned to follow, keeping Asteri close in case he tried to throw anything at me, but he just continued to backpedal.

“Are we just going to run around in circles all night?” I demanded, annoyed.

“What, you don’t like tag?” he asked, then grabbed another throwing star from his belt, sending it spinning my way. “Besides, it can’t be all night, since you didn’t even go stomping across my house until well after midnight.”

“Aw, I was hoping I might have more time to charbroil your face,” I answered as I blocked the star. “How old even are you? You sound like a child.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he taunted as he danced backward. “Nice shield, by the way. Very iconic.”

“Why thank you,” I said through gritted teeth as another projectile bounced off of said shield with a clang. “Its name is Asteri.”

“Cool! It’s cute that you named your weapon.” He ducked to the side as I launched myself forward, swinging at him furiously. “You can probably guess I haven’t named all of mine, but maybe now’s the time to show them love. Bye Elouise!” He sent another projectile my way.

“You can’t call me cute when you’re half my age,” I said as I batted Elouise out of the air with my shield. I had to yank it back around to catch another blade that followed, this one hurled hard from some sort of pinch grip.

“I am not half your age! I’m only two years younger than you!”

I smirked in victory. So eighteen. “And how are you sure of my age? That’s not usually something you can guess at first glance.”

“I don’t guess, multiple minutes of interaction is not first glance, and I took history lessons,” he puffed as he continued to dance out of reach. “Believe it or not, you’re somewhat of an important historical figure -- the youngest Crown of Shairisel, and the only Shairisel royal left alive.”

I was fed up with this. With an angry shout, I held up my empty hand, summoning more fire. Harrier’s eyes widened as I threw it, but he managed to jump just to the side… right into where I’d chucked Asteri. I wasn’t great at throwing, but the flat of the diamond shield still smacked into his chest, knocking him back. He managed to grab the edge of the roof, letting Asteri tumble down to the street, and tugged himself back up, heaving for breath.

“Bet your little chakrans can’t help against that,” I said smugly as he shakily climbed back to his feet. “You’re not the only one who can throw things.”

“They’re called chakrams, and I haven't even thrown one at you yet. Would you like me to?”

“Why don’t you try and see how that goes?” I advised snidely as I summoned more fire. I was endangering my anonymity, and I knew it, but this prick deserved to be charbroiled.

“Or you could just let me go home.”

“You aren’t going to attack now that I’m unarmed?

He rolled his eyes. “If you didn’t have some other trick, you wouldn’t have disarmed yourself.”

“You got me,” I said in as bored and flat a voice as I could manage. “You’ve ruined the surprise. Oh no.”

Harrier whipped a disk-like object from his back, turning to the side so he could send it toward me in the same motion. I stumbled back in surprise, barely holding up my hand in time. Golden light spread from my palm, forming a shimmering shield just in front of it that caused the projectile to bounce off harmlessly.

So that’s how it is. “Dragon’s Fury!” I growled, and warmth flooded my limbs. When I moved next, I seemed to shoot forward, powered by the energy now buzzing inside me. Before the noble could react, I’d run straight into him, and we were both falling down towards the street. He flailed around, knocking me off, and managed to land in a barely-controlled roll. I stuck my landing just before my spell wore off, feeling the fatigue hit me a second later. Spells that directly enhanced my physical ability always had an almost immediate drain.

As Harrier pulled himself to his feet with a pained groan, I scanned the street, locating Asteri and walking to pick it up. I turned back to the tiresome noble, who was actually looking pretty nervous and worn down at this point. He bit his bottom lip as his pale gold eyes met mine again.

“Harrier?” a voice called from somewhere nearby. “Where in the gods’ names are you?”

I froze.

Harrier’s eyes widened, and he hurried toward me. I started back, but he frantically held a finger to his lips. “I already said I won’t tell anyone you were here,” he hissed. “But he will.”

I glanced toward the source of the call. “Who’s he?”

“My brother Eagle. He’s far more loyal to Falcondar than I am.”

I let out a quiet groan. “I hate you,” I spat.

“Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry in the slightest. “I really do promise, though.”

I rolled my eyes. I still didn’t trust a word he said, but I didn’t seem to have a choice. I put Asteri into its harness and sent the noble a rude gesture, then turned around and sprinted away between the estates.

For those who are unaware, "countertenor" (Harrier’s voice type) is the highest adult male voice type, usually with a range comparable to a female alto or mezzo-soprano. They're fairly rare, but not extremely so. Just a fun fact :)