Veran

I slowly rise from the embroidered sofa, placing down the Great Book of Dragons, I read a dozen times in the past. It is a very small book that describes the known knowledge of the wretched beast that reside in the heart of the Mountains. It holds the knowledge of what they eat, what types of dragons there are and descriptive pictures of the way they looked. They were all so very similar and yet different. Besides these very few topics there wasn’t much more the book had to offer. I had learned just about everything the royal library had to offer about them, maybe even more. 

I woke up only an hour ago and had yet to look out the window, at Jonathan’s so called “surprise.” I already knew it must have been a Mountaineer but I had stayed awake until nearly three in the morning looking for a mountaineer tent but gave up assuming the Mountaineer warrior must have bunked with another Realm.

I walked around the glass table, gliding across the rug to open my curtain where I can hear the distant cheers. My hand clutches the soft fabric as I nervously pull it aside watching small particles of dust float to my nose making me squint my eyes and sneeze. 

After rubbing my nose only to sneeze again I look out the window. My eyes squint at bright streams of sunlight that enter the tower, chasing away the darkness I had become quite accustomed to. The sudden light makes me dizzy and I steady myself on the windowsill’s seat as I wait for my eyes to adjust. I find myself staring down at a plethora of colorful tents and perhaps even hundreds of people.

I sit down on the soft cushions and lean my shoulder ever so slightly against the thin window pane as I watch the world far below. From the great tower the people look like ants as they run around trying to reach some unseen destination or person. 

I watch as a group of young men confidently walk through a flurry of warriors, spectators, and merchants, who move out of their direct path. I turn away grabbing my telescope that is on a nearby table and look closer as the men merge into a single file line. They rigidly march into a bright mustard yellow tent, their smiles flashing as they pass what I assume to be their commander who holds open the tent’s flap. 

I scoff, scooting away from the window.  “Of course,” I sigh, closing my telescope. “She had to send her own.” 

Although the Plains Realm was where the Imperial City and Emperor reside, every well educated noble knew the real power lay within the Desert Realm. It is a scary place for any person to challenge or travel to due to the fact that every able body was trained at the young age of ten, slavery was still commonly practiced which lead to human trafficking, and the occasional revolt. The Desert Realm is sadly built on the backs of slaves creating a non-existent middle class while giving riches to the realm. Riches such as gold, jewels, and a well educated upper class population. These are the reasons for the Realms’ infinite wealth. 

That isn't even the most shocking part. The most shocking part of the story is that the Realm is ruled over by a sixteen year old girl. Queen Narsuhrsh of the Dessert Realm who lost her parents in the slave revolt that also killed my aunt and uncle. She became Queen at the mere age of six but was almost overruled multiple times. Being a Queen at such an early age led to her struggles of holding her position firmly. Through this struggle she discovered the best way to maintain power was to instill fear. Through these harships she became a young, beautiful, strong Queen although she lacked compassion ruling over her Realm with an iron fist.

I shake the image of the Desert Queen from my head, continuing to inspect the other Realm’s tents that are placed in clusters far from the others. A lime green represented the Jungle Realm while a deep royal blue was used for for the Islands. I trail my eyes to the egg shell white fabric of the Coastal Realm, then the vibrant yellow for the Desert, deep auburn brown for the Forest, a crimson for the Plains and then there it was the tent I had hoped for.

I quickly push open the window pane, throwing my body out into the cool breeze as I fumble with the crimson body of the spyglass. I let out a slow breath and struggle to steady my hands. Slowly I raise the cold steel to my eye.

Far below in the chaos of the festivities, the tent stood isolated and left alone, moving ever so slightly through the summer breeze. It is small, about one third the size of the other tents that are over a hundred feet away from it and about half the size of the tower room. It is a violet shade that gives an aura of mystery as I watch it with intensity.

Suddenly a mysterious small figure wrapped head to toe in purple scarves emerges from the tent and cautiously takes one step forward. The figure crosses his arms as he watches the people nearby run away. It appears this person is almost curious as he tilts his head. 

This person, this man, is a Mountaineer, he must have noticed that this one trait is enough for all of the camp to fear him. There is also the fact that his entire face is covered making him even more conspicuous. I begin to wonder if he may have in fact been one of those humanoids who had creature-like characteristics. That would explain why he was wearing the scarves, as to not strike an uproar in the people but at this point could he really grab anymore attention.

He slowly turns his head taking into account the other people who are examining him with shock, disgust and curiosity. He stands tall now with far more swagger and confidence than I assumed he could exhibit.

I took this as a sign that he was a fighter. 

I tried to peer closer at the man finding he had a lavender sash wrapped loosely around his hips. It is a realm sash, the color representing his realm as it shimmered soft tones in the afternoon light. I look closer, finding something else strange about him. On his sash sparkled a silver embroidered symbol that I couldn’t make out from so high above. I had never seen a realm sash embroidered and doubted anyone else had. 

He suddenly turns his head in my direction, making me leap as we may have made eye contact. I didn’t know he was so far and I was so high up it didn’t seem likely that he could see me.

I pull myself in from the window quickly sitting down by the sill as I hope his eyesight wasn’t incredibly strong. 

I sit on the soft cushions while staring at my empty lap wondering what I was scared of. This man is nothing but a mere boy who thinks he can match the strength of the greatest warriors. Well then again I couldn’t judge him but just by seeing his delicate figure I could tell he couldn’t be more than fifteen.

I turn my attention to the wooden floorboards as the endless ideas come rushing through my head, almost as if I am lost in my own snowstorm. I inhale deeply, subduing the ideas while I turn back to the window. I gently place the cold spyglass to my eye finding that the boy had returned back into his tent. 

I release the breath I had unknowingly held while I slowly lower the cold telescope from my face. 

“One more day.” I mumble to myself in a reassuring manner. “Just one more day till the tournament.”