At the end of the afternoon, in the distance, the mountains became visible.

"Darfith lives somewhere over there," Enorwin mumbled to himself. He felt a wave of excitement rising in his body. Soon, very soon he would get the chance to slay a dragon. It would be a payment for all the days he had coped with the presence of his disrespectful, uncivilised companions.

He turned his head to look at the worst of all these companions, the one who had so openly defied him yesterday: Arwund Marholdson. "Is there a place we can stay for the night nearby?"

Arwund thought to himself. "If I'm not mistaken," he said, "Hadufried, the duke of Dracherwold, has a castle no so far from here. You may be able to convince him to let us stay here for a while."

"That's not a bad idea," Enorwin said. If he could make the duke allow them to stay in his castle, they would be a lot safer from the Servants of Darfith than otherwise. Perhaps Enorwin could even convince him to join forces with the Flaming Lands in the battle against Darfith's army. It created a lot of opportunities.

"Do you know where it is?" Enorwin asked.

"I think I can find it," Arwund said.

"Good," Enorwin said. "Guide the way."

------------

It took them two hours to find the castle, but then, surely, they rode up to the gates.

Enorwin looked at the huge building, which lay on top of a hill. It was so different from the castle he had grown up in. His father's castle had not been under siege in a very long time, to the point that easily breakable windows had been built in the outer towers. That was not the case here. The walls were grey, cold and undecorated. On the battlements, groups of guards were watching the surroundings, armed with bows to defend the castle in case anything should happen. The drawbridge was currently down, but it could immediately be raised in the event of an attack.

A guard called out to them in Northern. He was standing in front of the drawbridge and was armed with a halberd that glistened in the lasts bits of sunlight. Enorwin deduced that he had asked who the strangers were.

Enorwin descended from his horse, suddenly painfully aware of the fact that his mare Lanhilla had been stolen. Holding the reins of his new, white horse, he told the guard, "My name is Enorwin. I am the crown prince of the Flaming Lands."

Maréin said something in Northern, probably translating what Enorwin had just said; the prince was able to make out a few simple words.

"Why are you here?" the guard asked, according to Maréin.

"We are on a mission for my father, the earl of the Flaming Lands," Enorwin said, immediately translated by Maréin. "We seek shelter, and we were wondering if His Grace the duke would be willing to offer us a place to spend the night."

The guard nodded. "Wait here," he said, before turning around and walking through the gate, crossing the courtyard and disappearing into the main building. Another guard immediately appeared to take his place.

The group waited for many minutes, until the guard returned at last. "His Grace wants to receive you now."

"Thank you," Enorwin said. He beckoned the others to follow him into the courtyard, where a group of servants immediately hurried towards them to bring the horses to the stables. The prince of the Flaming Lands walked towards the great wooden doors of the main building, pushing them open.

They entered a great hall, the walls of which had been painted in intricate Northern symbols. A fresco on the ceiling depicted the fight between a knight dressed in a golden suit of armour and a dragon whose scales were just as golden. The knight was as tall as the dragon and wielded a huge, two-handed sword, which he raised to deal the final blow to the already weakened monster.

At the end of the hall was a platform, on which duke Hadufried was sitting on a wooden throne, decorated with gold and gems. On the back side of the throne, there was a small, golden dragon, standing on its rear legs.

Duke Hadufried himself was a tall man, probably in his early thirties, with long, wavy blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. He was dressed in a robe in the green and yellow colours of Dracherwold, a red cloak and a flat hat in the same colour, from which multiple strips of fabric hung downwards.

Enorwin, deeply impressed by all the splendour of the hall, walked to the centre of the long crimson carpet and made the deepest bow of his life. "Your Grace," he said.

"If you really are prince Enorwin of the Flaming Lands," the duke said, "then there is no need for such formalities." He spoke the Middle language fluently, with only a tiny hint of an accent. "But can you prove it?"

Enorwin thought to himself. He had given his signet ring to Bedreigh. His right hand instinctively moved towards his left hip, only to be given the grim reminder that his sword had been taken by the Servants of Darfith.

"I do not know, Your Grace," Enorwin said. "I have given my signet ring to my squire, so that he can prove to my father that I sent him. My sword was stolen while we were underway."

"Stolen?" duke Hadufried asked sceptically. "What knight allows his sword to be stolen?"

"We were ambushed," Enorwin said, "by a band of cowardly men armed with poisonous darts. They abducted us and stole my weapons after rendering us unconscious with those darts."

The duke arched an eyebrow. "A remarkable story," he commented. He let out a deep breath, thinking to himself. Then he asked, "What is the middle name of Raynnard, earl of the Flaming Lands?"

Enorwin blinked in surprise. "Excuse me, Your Grace?"

"His middle name," the duke repeated. "If you are the earl's son, then you should know a thing like that. However, if you are only a commoner, it is almost impossible for you to know such a detail; the earl never uses it in public."

Enorwin frowned. His father had a middle name? He had never been told that the earl had one. Unless...

"Your Grace," the prince said, "I am certain that my father has no middle name. He is Raynnard of the Flaming Lands; that is his entire name."

The duke's lips curled in an approving smile. "You are prince Enorwin," he said. "Any other person would probably have improvised when I asked for the earl's middle name, but you didn't; you affirmed with the utmost conviction that your father had none."

Enorwin bowed his head. He had been correct in his thinking; the duke had indeed been bluffing.

"You and your companions are welcome to stay at my castle for as long as you wish," the duke announced in a loud voice.

"Thank you, Your Grace," Enorwin said gratefully. "We are honoured."

"The honour is wholly mine, Sir Enorwin," the duke said. "Dracherwold has admired the chivalry of the Flaming Lands for many years."

Enorwin looked up at him. "I am pleased to hear that."

"Well, Dracherwold is the last civilised area before the mountains," the duke said. "We need to act as a beacon of chivalry at the border of a world of savage barbarians." He beckoned a servant standing at the door. "You," he said. "Show our guests to their quarters." Then he looked back at Enorwin. "I would like to invite you and your friends over to dinner tonight. I would like to organise a feast in honour of your arrival as our friends from the Middle Lands."

"Thank you for your hospitality, Your Grace," Enorwin said. "We would be delighted to join you."

"It is my duty to offer you my hospitality, Sir Enorwin," duke Hadufried said. "Not just as a duke, but also as a knight."

Enorwin couldn't suppress a smile. After spending days among strangers, people whose beliefs were completely alien to him, he felt as though he had finally come home.

------------

The duke's castle turned out to contain so many spare rooms that every member of the group had been given their own chamber. However, Vaciana had for some reason insisted on sharing a room with Maréin. Similarly, Carlard had asked to share his with Joandrey. Arwund had to admit he was puzzled by the relationship between the two breathers; were they close friends, maybe even lovers? Or was Joandrey merely Carlard's inferior? Then again: did it matter?

Now Arwund stood by the window of his room, which overlooked the courtyard. The window consisted of multiple circular pieces of somewhat greenish glass, which didn't allow for much of a view.

Arwund let out a relieved sigh. He felt as though for the first time in days, he was alone.

As he moved to his bed to sit down, suddenly, someone knocked the door.

Arwund rolled his eyes. As it turned out, a certain degree of privacy was too much to ask for during this journey.

"Who's there?" he asked, not attempting to conceal his annoyance.

"Carlard," a voice replied.

What did he want? Arwund let out another sigh - although this one was a lot less good-humoured than his earlier one - and walked towards the door. He hesitated before turning the doorknob: he could just grab his keys, lock the door and leave Carlard to his own devices. For some reason, though, he decided against it and opened the door.

The pale draconic human entered the room, his face expressionless as usual. Arwund closed the door behind him and leaned against the wall, his arms crossed.

"What do you need me for?" he asked.

Carlard's dark brown eyes had been focused on Arwund's necklace. Only when Arwund addressed him did he look up.

"I asked what you needed me for," Arwund repeated.

"Indeed," Carlard responded. He breathed deeply, as if he was deep in thought. "I heard you speaking yesterday night," he said finally. "I understand you're in a bit of a fight with Enorwin?"

Arwund smiled slightly. "That's an understatement."

Carlard nodded. "Listen," he said in a low voice, but still clearly enough, "I think it would be best for the both of us if the things we discuss here will remain within the walls of this room. Do you agree?"

"Where are you heading?" Arwund asked curiously.

"I'll need your promise."

Arwund shrugged. "Fine by me."

Carlard moved to stand next to him, leaning against the same wall. Arwund had to admit he wasn't quite comfortable standing this close to the other man, but he thought it wisest not to say so out loud.

"I'll be brief," Carlard said. "Is there anything I can do to help you? Anything at all?"

Arwund blinked in surprise. "Why would you want to help me with Enorwin?"

"Because you have something I want, Arwund," Carlard said. He nodded at the rogue's chest. "Your necklace."

"So you want to become my ally in exchange for my hanger?" Arwund asked.

"Exactly," Carlard said. "I'm prepared to do anything you can reasonably expect from me. What do you need?"

Arwund frowned. "That necklace is pretty important to you, isn't it?"

"You would do me a great favour if you would trade it with me," Carlard affirmed.

Arwund nodded. There was clearly something about that necklace he did not understand. Why did Carlard need it so badly? What was so special about it?

According to Bedreigh, Carlard had once called it the Sign of Wainur. What was the relation between the famous Dragon King and the pendant?

"The thing is," Arwund said, "that I don't know what I want you to do. I wish it were that simple. I don't want to beat Enorwin or anything like that. I want him to change. The kid will be a ruler one day. And with his stubborn ideas about nobles and knights being superior to commoners, I doubt he will be a good earl." He broke away from the wall and walked to the centre of the room, briefly looking at the tarnished window. Then he turned to face Carlard.

The ex-Servant nodded to himself. "Change," he mumbled, stroking his chin. Then he said, "If I were to succeed in letting Enorwin, say, come to see the reality of many nobles' rule, would that help? The boy has been raised at court, never seeing the common life as it really is."

"I've tried to make him see before, but it's never worked," Arwund said.

"Maybe you lacked the right opportunities," Carlard said. "But if I were to aid you in this and if we were to succeed, would your then give me the necklace?"

Arwund hesitated. The thought of giving up his necklace felt strangely wrong. It was as if his subconscious revolted against the mere idea of handing the thing over to Carlard. And then Carlard's proposal... What would the man do? Arwund couldn't say he trusted him and he doubted anything good would come out of an alliance with him. He knew Carlard as a pragmatist and an opportunist.

"No, thanks," Arwund said, "I'll figure this out on my own."

Carlard raised his eyebrows. "You're welcome," he said, "but I'm afraid you'll come to regret it."

"There is nothing you can do which I can't," Arwund said. "I don't need you."

"Oh, there is one difference," Carlard said. "There are things I can do which you never can, for the simple reason that you are not a bad man."

"And you are?" Arwund asked.

"I don't believe in good and evil," Carlard said. "I believe in what works."

"Well, me too," Arwund said. "I'm not a good person either."

Carlard scoffed. "Stop lying to yourself. Bad people don't care about the commoners of Garowain."

And with these words, the draconic human left the room.

------------

The sounds of gentle lute music echoed through duke Hadufried's great dining hall.

The long tables were arranged in the shape of the letter U, with the duke himself sitting in the centre on the biggest, most ornate chair of all. His guests had been granted the honour of sitting beside him, with Enorwin and Vaciana to his right and left, respectively.

The light of the sunset fell through the immense stained glass windows on either side of the hall. There was a total of four such windows, and each of them depicted one of the Dragon Kings in battle with the knight who had slain them. The only exception was the black-scaled dragon Darfith; since he had never been slain by a famous knight and instead had merely 'disappeared', he was pictured in combat with a knight in golden armour. It was obvious that this knight was Lannhil again, the one who, in reality, was famous for slaying the first Dragon King Wainur.

Enorwin was used to the amount of food eaten at an average court, but this meal was luxurious even for him. The meat was deliciously seasoned, the sauce tasted just right, the vegetables were fresh and tasty. And there was a lot of food. He had heard rumours about people at the royal court purposely vomiting in between servings to make room for more food. He wondered if that ever happened at this castle, or if the duke was merely being generous to his guests.

After the troubadours had finished a song, the duke stood up to his full height. He was rather tall and stood very straight, his chin raised ever so slightly; his very presence radiated authority. He raised his goblet and let his gaze move past all of the courtiers present in the room.

He addressed the crowd in Northern. Although Enorwin still couldn't understand everything the duke said, he picked up a few words and deduced that he probably wanted to toast on his honoured guests.

"Uf priense Enorwin end sienen frienderen!" the duke called out.

"Uf priense Enorwin end sienen frienderen!" the crowd repeated.

Everyone in the hall drunk and then sat down, after which the troubadours continued to play their songs. It sounded like some kind of love ballad, but Enorwin was unable to understand its meaning, although he listened intently.

"It's about a knight who very much admired a woman, but could not love her because she was already married," the duke explained, apparently reading Enorwin's puzzled expression. Making small circular movements with his wrist, he let the beverage in his goblet splash around ever so slightly.

"Thank you, Your Grace," Enorwin said.

The duke smiled. "You are welcome. By the way, Sir Enorwin, there is something I would like to show you and your companions after dinner, if you would be so kind to follow me."

"Certainly, Your Grace," Enorwin replied. "Might I inquire as to the nature of what you wish to show us?"

"I am not telling you just yet," duke Hadufried said, "but I can promise you that you will love it, especially regarding our shared interest in chivalry."

Enorwin had to admit he was curious. What was the duke going to show them?

Aware that showing such curiosity would not be considered very courteous, Enorwin continued to eat, wondering in silence.

------------

The duke guided them through many corridors and rooms and the group climbed many stairs, before they finally reached a wooden door, which was located in the wall which surrounded a spiral staircase. The duke raised his hand to signal that the others should stop climbing and then said, "Behind this door is the greatest treasure this castle possesses."

He turned the doorknob and gently opened the door, revealing a relatively small room lit only by the last rays of sunlight falling through two narrow embrasures in the wall.

And in between those embrasures, lying on a stone table that almost resembled an altar, placed perfectly horizontally on a red silk cloth, lay a sword Maréin had not seen in centuries.

The wanderer found himself unable to suppress a surprised gasp. Duke Hadufried looked at him. "Are you familiar with this weapon?"

"I am," Maréin said. "It is the sword Sir Lannhil received from his brother Argowin after killing the tyrant king, according to the story. The same sword he supposedly used to slay Wainur."

"Not just supposedly," Enorwin corrected sharply. "He did use it to slay Wainur." He looked at the duke, his eyes gleaming with an excitement Enorwin had never shown for as long as Maréin knew him. "Can I... hold it, Your Grace?" the prince asked hopefully.

"If you are careful, you may," the duke said. "It is remarkable how little this weapon has withered over the centuries. It is still in a very good state."

Maréin knew why that was, but he chose to remain silent. The scientific knowledge of his time was often best left unmentioned in the presence of a modern-day noble, especially one as fond of the old myths of chivalry as duke Hadufried and Enorwin.

The latter was, in the meantime, inspecting the blade. He narrowed his eyes. "There is some kind of inscription on it," he mumbled. Slowly, he deciphered, "Cui vu... cui vuele usar... usarme, no me cop... no me copprende non. Is that Southern?"

"It is," Maréin confirmed. "Cui vuele usarme, no me copprende non. Who wants to use me, does not understand me."

"What does that mean?" Enorwin asked.

"I do not even know its meaning myself," the duke admitted. "It is a mystery."

"I suppose only Lannhil himself could tell you," Arwund said.

Maréin smiled slightly. "I'm sure he could."

They stood like that in silence for a while, Enorwin inspecting the sword in amazement. Finally, it was the duke who spoke. "I'm terribly sorry, but I fear we have to leave now. In a short while, it'll be dark. I'd prefer to have left the tower by that time; it gets awfully dark here."

"Of course, Your Grace," Enorwin said, blinking as if he woke up from a dream. "I am very grateful that you have granted me this opportunity."

"Well, since I was aware of your interest in knighthood, I simply could not rob you of the chance to see an artefact like this," duke Hadufried said.

Enorwin smiled thankfully and bowed his head, before following the duke out of the room. The others followed suit, leaving Maréin and Vaciana behind.

"Come on!" Vaciana said to him. "We have to go!"

Maréin, however, could not resist the temptation and stepped forward, extending his hand. Briefly, he brushed his fingers against the metal blade. He closed his eyes as it grew slightly warmer under his touch. Then, he opened his eyes again and turned around. He nodded. "Let's go."

As they descended the spiral staircase, it turned out that Arwund had been waiting for them a few steps down. Arwund raised his eyebrows in a questioning look, but said nothing.

"Sorry," Maréin said, "I was curious what it felt like."

Arwund nodded. Then he asked in a low voice, so that the others who were farther down wouldn't hear him, "Did you know Lannhil, Maréin?"

"I was alive during his time," Maréin replied carefully.

"Did he slay Wainur?" Arwund asked.

"Who can tell?" Maréin said. "But I can tell you that reality is always more complicated than stories."

Arwund laughed. "And as always, you're not telling me more."

Maréin shrugged. "Don't you have any secrets?"

Arwund seemed to think for a while. "No very big ones, no," he concluded.

Maréin smiled sadly. "Then you're a very lucky man."

"I doubt it," the rogue said.

------------

Knights...

Knights...

Knights...

Somehow, his dreams were suddenly flooded with images of knights.

A man running towards him, a sword extended.

"Stay away, you knight! No-one can slay me!" the Dragon King growled.

And then, the man began to grow. His skin became golden and then turned into scales. His arms and legs took on the shape of powerful paws. Large, yellow eyes gazed at Darfith, who felt as though he was very small.

"Usurper," Wainur said to him. "Beware. I am coming. The prince will slay the black-scaled one."

"You're dead!" Darfith howled. "You're dead! YOU'RE DEAD!"

And then, Wainur breathed a fire so powerful, that even the great Dragon King Darfith felt his skin burn.

He woke up, growling and writhing in an invisible agony, his fiery breath lightening up his dark cave.

------------

Only a few miles away from the mountains, in a small, deserted room within duke Hadufried's castle, Lannhil's sword was glowing bright golden, as though it wanted to bring back the light of the sun in the middle of the night.

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A/N: Hey everyone! Thanks for reading this chapter! Sorry for taking so long to publish again; I don't know why, but I find it really hard to publish a new chapter withing less than two weeks. To make up for it, here's probably the longest chapter I've written so far.

The Northern phrase "Uf priense Enorwin end sienen frienderen!" means "To prince Enorwin and his friends!". And as explained in the story, the Southern inscription on Lannhil's sword, "Cui vuele usarme, no me copprende non," means "Who wants to use me, does not understand me."

The Southern language was based on Romance languages such as French, Italian, Spanish and Latin, and was supposed to sound a bit like Spanish, although it's not real Spanish.