Arwund and Enorwin were riding through the grassy hills of Dracherwold, the wind rustling through their hair. It was springtime; clouds dotted the blue sky and the sun was shining for the first time in weeks. The temperature was comfortable and the plants, flowers and trees were regaining their colour.

Castle Dracherwold appeared in sight. After duke Hadufried had surrendered, it had quickly become the centre of a new, peaceful Dracherwold. The old wounds of its citizens were beginning to heal. Life was returning to these once-dead lands.

Arwund smiled. All had ended so well. Darfith had been defeated, peaceful uprisings all over the country had removed its oppressive rulers from power, dragon's fever had stopped as quickly as it had appeared. After Enorwin had fought Darfith with the help of his friends, the group had returned to the Flaming Lands, where earl Raynnard had given his support to the Dracherwold revolt and officially pardoned Arwund. Amahilda, the woman Arwund had met during the rebellion, had been crowned the new duchess of Dracherwold. Vaciana and Maréin were working with her to rebuild the duchy; Bedreigh had been named commander of the guard there.

"Wanna see who gets there first?" Arwund asked, looking at Enorwin.

The prince grinned. "Sure."

They urged on their horses, galloping up the hill leading to the castle. Arwund seemed to be winning at first... but then Enorwin's mare Jessia caught up with him. As they approached the drawbridge, the prince proved to be the superior rider. One after the other, the two crossed the bridge, the guards looking after them in surprise.

As they descended from their horses in the courtyard, both of them laughing, Amahilda, Bedreigh, Vaciana and Maréin appeared. They were all smiling; all seemed happy. And all of them, even Maréin, were clean and wore new clothes. They'd washed of the dirt of their adventure.

"We're so glad you could come!" Amahilda said. "I wanted us all to get together. Two very special people have arrived."

The four stepped aside, clearing a path in front of the door they had come through. The door was opened. At first, a woman stepped out, middle-aged in appearance. Then a man, about the same age, with bright red hair. They both smiled proudly.

Arwund's eyes widened in amazement. He shook his head in disbelief as a wide grin spread across his face. He hurried towards them.

"Mom! Dad!"

He embraced them.

At first, he was filled with happiness. But suddenly, something began to feel off. It was a gut feeling.

"Arwund?" Maréin asked him. "When did you grow scales?"

Arwund immediately let go off his parents. They were still smiling proudly at their son.

He looked at his hands. They'd become claws, draconic claws, covered in pitch-black scales.

"Don't worry, son," his mother said. "You'll grow used to it. You are just discovering who you really are."

And now Arwund noticed that his dad, too, now had scales, golden ones. His face had got longer, his mouth turning into the maw of a dragon. "This is you, Arwund," he emphasised, still smiling as only dragons could smile. "Turn around."

Heart throbbing, Arwund did as his father said. The sky had darkened; a thunderstorm was beginning to rumble. The courtyard was now filled with fire, flames blazing all across it, scorching the stone walls. People were running around in panic. Several of them were on fire. He saw his friends: Bedreigh was lying dead, sword in hand; Enorwin was standing in a corner, staring, paralysed, at his hands, which were bloody; Vaciana was trying, but failing, to fight off an entire group of attackers with her bare hands; Maréin was wailing uncontrollably at the sight of it all - and Amahilda stood at the centre of the courtyard, hands outstretched towards Arwund, and cried, "You promised you'd defend us!"

Arwund screamed, pushed his parents aside and ran into the castle. He ended up in the throne room. His parents were there once again, his father now appearing even more draconic and his mother beginning to resemble Wainur's human wife, Avalinn.

"I don't want this!" Arwund yelled at them. "I never asked for this!"

"Arwund, you need to grow up and take some responsibility," his father sighed. "Wainur specifically selected you to fulfil this task. You can't disobey him."

"Now that you're here," his mother said, still beaming, "we also want you to meet your extended family."

"Extended family?" Arwund asked in confusion, wondering what else would be thrown at him.

And through a side door of the throne room, two new people came in, first earl Raynnard, then duke Hadufried.

"Wonderful to see you, dear nephew," earl Raynnard said, then observed, turning to Hadufried, "He probably doesn't realise it yet, but don't you think your cousin Arwund is beginning to resemble his uncle more and more?"

Hadufried laughed loudly. "Well, you cannot deny he also shares my misguided and destructive idealism."

Arwund squeezed his eyes shut. This couldn't be true! It just couldn't be!

"Ah yes," his mother said, "that's something else we should tell you by now. You do realise that Arwund is the name the people at the orphanage gave you, don't you?"

Arwund reopened his eyes, feeling very weak. "Wha...?"

His father's smile widened. "Actually," he said, "we called you Darfith."

And as Arwund felt his body growing, developing wings, morphing into the shape of the black-scaled Darfith, and as his parents, earl Raynnard, and duke Hadufried were looking up at him with pride in their eyes, everything went black...

... and Arwund sat up straight on his cot and screamed.

Two guards immediately rushed in, weapons drawn. "Sire?" one of them asked.

Arwund was panting, trying to calm down. He rubbed his forehead: in spite of the cold, it was sweaty.

"I'm fine," he said softly, more to reassure himself than the guards. He repeated, "I'm fine."

"A dream, sire?" the other guard asked.

"Yes," Arwund said, "just a nightmare."

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The Servants were woken when it was still night. They began to break up the camp, as ordered. Arwund wanted to get moving before dawn, so the earl would have no chance to stop them.

It turned out that the Servants had a couple of spies in the earl's army. Arwund had asked them to distract the night guards as much as possible. So far, there was no sign the Servants were being noticed; perhaps it had worked.

Feeling a bit idle, he walked up to the Servants taking down his tent. "Can I help?"

"There is no need for you to strain yourself, sire," a young Servant immediately told him. "We'll do the hard work for you."

Arwund was taken aback. "I insist."

"By no means, sire," the Servant said. "Don't worry, we'll take care of everything."

Arwund shrugged. "If you want to." He was still struggling to understand why so many Servants had suddenly grown so loyal to him. Did Wainur's will mean so much to them? Or had Darfith not been that popular with many of the Servants after all? After what Darfith had yelled at the Servants from the Life Crystal earlier, he'd probably ruined most of his remaining popularity.

He turned around. If he wasn't needed here anyway, he'd better go find a horse.

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Enorwin found Bedreigh at the tents. He was sitting on the ground, eating some dried fruit and bread for breakfast.

How odd it was. Five people had slept in these tents. Of those five, only two remained now.

Enorwin sat down next to his friend. "Vaciana and Maréin talked to me last night," he said.

Bedreigh looked up at him. "What about?"

"We have a plan," Enorwin said. "We know that civil war is coming. It's almost unavoidable. So we want to travel to Portmunt, speak to the king and see what we can do to prevent that."

Bedreigh's eyes widened. "To the king?"

"Yes," Enorwin said. "Maybe - just maybe - we can convince him to negotiate, to find a compromise. The chances are slim, I know, but at least they're chances."

Bedreigh sighed. "I wish it would work. But I'm quite sure it won't."

"I know," Enorwin said again. "But even if the chances are slim, I really don't want to fight anymore. Especially not if it means I'll have to face Arwund." He looked at Bedreigh. "Do you want to come with me?"

Bedreigh blinked in surprise. Then he shifted his gaze to the remnants of last night's campfire. "I..." he began, but didn't finish his sentence. Instead, he said, "If war is coming, then Garowain will need warriors. I've seen what some of the Servants can do. I do not want those people to have free reign in Garowain."

Enorwin nodded. "You want to stay," he observed.

Bedreigh sighed. "I don't know!" he said. "I mean, I hated that battle as much as you. I watched the earl kill my friend. And yet..." He fell silent.

Enorwin said nothing.

Suddenly, Bedreigh turned back to his friend. "You know what the thing is? Yes, the Servants gave me some sort of home. But I was forced to do things I didn't really want to do. I was forced to obey Joandrey and Carlard and their superiors. I had food, I had shelter, but it didn't feel like home." He paused briefly. There was sadness in his eyes. "And then you and the others came along. You welcomed me, even though I'd almost killed you. You allowed me to take my own decisions. You made me your squire. You became my friend. And you know why you did that?"

"Because it was right?" Enorwin said.

"Yes," Bedreigh said. "Because it was right and good and kind, but also because it was noble. Because it was chivalrous. You had a sense of honour and you listened to it." He stared in the distance. "I know there are nobles who abuse their power. I know there are knights who use their sword to oppress innocent people. But I know they are also knights like you, Enorwin. That's the kind of chivalry I believe in, the kind of chivalry I want to defend. The kind of chivalry I don't want the Servants to destroy."

Enorwin had no idea what to say. He was looking at his friend, amazed at his determination.

"You know," Bedreigh continued, "if we want this society to change, then killing knights and nobles won't be the solution. That change needs to come from within. And I want to support that change. I want to be one of the good knights."

"So you want to stay and fight?" Enorwin asked.

"Yes," Bedreigh said. "I want to stay and fight, and I want to be honourable and just while doing it. I wanna protect people."

Enorwin nodded. "I think I understand," he said, then added, "I couldn't do that. Not anymore."

"That's okay," Bedreigh said. "I respect that. If you feel you should go with Vaciana and Maréin, then you should. But me, well, my heart tells me to stay."

They were silent. So this was goodbye, then. Who knew if they'd see each other again? And if so, in what world?

"Promise me one thing," Enorwin said.

Bedreigh looked at him in question.

Enorwin's eyes met his friend's and he was suddenly struggling to hold back his tears. "Please don't die."

Bedreigh did not respond, but he wrapped his arms around Enorwin. They embraced, and Enorwin let his tears run free.

"I'll think of you," Enorwin said. "I'll pray."

"So will I," Bedreigh said quietly. "So will I."

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Earl Raynnard was sitting in his tent, trying to think through his strategy. It didn't go too well: thoughts of his son kept invading his mind.

The king. Why did he have to go to the king? The court at Portmunt was a den of venomous snakes. There were so many things that could go wrong, and disappointment was the least bad possibility.

At that moment, a soldier rushed in and quickly bowed.

Raynnard rose an indignant eyebrow. "What is this?"

"Forgive me, my lord," the soldier said. "I have bad news. Please, my lord, don't be angry with me for what happened."

"All right, all right," Raynnard said in annoyance. "Just tell me the news."

"It's the Servants and Marholdson, my lord," the soldier said. "They're gone!"

Raynnard's eyes widened in astonishment. "How did they get away?"

"We're not sure, my lord," the soldier said. "Some say there's a pathway through the mountains at the other end of the valley. Forgive us, my lord, we did keep watch."

"I have no need for your apologies!" the earl roared. "I want to know where they are! I want scouts after them, now!"

"Yes, my lord," the soldier said, fear in his eyes. He quickly hurried out of the tent.

Enorwin had to have known this, the earl reasoned. Otherwise he wouldn't have been as eager to travel with Maréin to stop a war.

Raynnard quickly put on his coat and came rushing out of his tent. "PRINCE ENORWIN!" he yelled.

Nickandon Wilnasson, who had been standing nearby, walked up to him. "You're too late," he said. "He's already left."

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The mountain pass was rather narrow and rocky, but thankfully wide enough for the carts. The Servants were walking two by two, which Arwund had thought safest: if more would walk next to one another, the risk of people falling down would get too high.

The Servants had few horses, which turned out to be an advantage: it made the army somewhat more manoeuvrable and it meant they needed less food for the animals. They could graze a little between the snow, but if there'd been too many animals, it would have been too little food and several would have starved.

And now, a huge line of Servants was creeping through the mountains. Now that they were walking next to each other, it became visible just how many they were. Arwund was at the centre: behind and in front of him a long row followed him, so long that he could not see its beginning or end on the winding mountain path.

"Everyone should watch those around them," he'd ordered the Servants before leaving. "Primarily your neighbour. If a command is passed on through the line, follow it immediately. I've ordered some of you to pay close attention to the mountains around us and the weather. If the risk of a blizzard gets too high, we will begin to seek shelter immediately."

Now that the sun had risen, the weather looked good. The sky was clear; the sunlight was reflected by the glistening snow. Arwund hoped it would remain that way. If not, he hoped his plan would be enough to prevent any casualties. He remembered the earl's expedition all too well and he did not want to repeat it.

He'd acted like the earl too much already.

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And so Bedreigh was left behind in the earl's army camp, feeling as though a stone had got stuck in his stomach.

He'd helped Enorwin pack his tent; now only his own tent was left at the place where they'd camped. It felt incredibly empty.

Suddenly, he spot the earl pacing through the camp, giving orders here and there. Soldiers and knights got moving. Bedreigh decided to get to his feet, waiting to be given some kind of order himself.

That was when the earl saw him and raised his eyebrows in surprise. He spoke some words to Nickandon Wilnasson, who was standing next to him.

"You!" Wilnasson commanded, gesturing at Bedreigh. "Come here!"

Bedreigh obeyed, wondering what this was about.

The earl looked at him sternly. "If you're still here, Enorwin can't be far. Where is he?"

"He's... he's already left, my lord," Bedreigh answered.

Wilnasson sighed. "Told you so," he mumbled.

"Without his squire? I don't believe it," the earl snapped. "Where is he, Bedreigh?"

"He's no longer here, my lord, I swear!" Bedreigh defended himself. "I asked him if I could stay behind because I want to fight." Unsure what to do, he hurriedly knelt down, staring at the ground. "I offer you my service, my lord."

"He's not lying," Bedreigh heard Wilnasson say. "I saw them leave. They're gone."

The earl sighed. "Very well. Bedreigh, do you know where Marholdson will take his band of rogues?" His voice was calmer now. That was good. For a moment, Bedreigh had feared the earl would hurt him.

"I don't know," he replied. "I wasn't told."

"He'll be looking for a base," the earl said, thinking aloud. "You were in the Dracherwold revolt, weren't you?"

Bedreigh nodded. "Yes, my lord."

"Hm," the earl said. "Get to your feet, soldier. I accept your service."

Bedreigh obeyed, his head bowed down. "Thank you, my lord."

"Prepare yourself," the earl commanded. "We'll be leaving soon."

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"Do you want to go to Dracherwold?" Nickandon Wilnasson asked earl Raynnard as they walked back to the latter's tent.

The earl shook his head. "I have no idea what I'll be up against there. The revolt may have spread in the meantime. More people may have gathered. And if Arwund happens to arrive before us, there will be even more manpower at the castle. The risk is too great."

"So back to the Flaming Lands, then?" Wilnasson asked.

"Yes," the earl said. "We'll regroup there, send word to the nobles around us. Then we'll launch an attack from there, on our terms."

"How about duke Hadufried?"

"It depends," the earl said. "I'm not going to take any risks to aid him, though. We need Arwund out of the way; that is our highest priority right now. If the duke's castle ends up a ruin, so be it. Someone else can try and save him."

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The weather was wonderful that day: there was little wind and no snowfall. Enorwin, Maréin and Vaciana managed to travel a long way, farther than a day's journey for the army. When they set up camp, they'd left the mountains and entered the sloping hills of Dracherwold.

In spite of their success, none of them felt happy. They were all trying hard to deal with the events of the past days; that, combined with the looming threat of civil war and the weight of responsibility on their shoulders, had caused there to be little talking between them.

Maréin, however, Vaciana observed, began to feel ever worse as the day went by.

He was restless. She could hear his rapid breathing, his fists clenching; at times, she almost believed she could hear his heartbeat, but she wasn't sure. He ate little. There was an air of growing worry about him; she could feel it.

It was after dinner that he suddenly confided in them. "There's another knight in these regions."

"How do you know?" Enorwin asked.

"I feel it," Maréin said. "And it's a powerful one, too. He may have been training."

"You know him, then?" Vaciana asked. "If you know he's a man."

"He may be someone I know; I'm not sure," Maréin said.

"But another knight could be an ally to us, right?" Enorwin said. "We could look him up and ask him..."

"Not this man, Enorwin!" Maréin snapped. He fell silent, then added, "I'm sorry. I did not mean to yell at you like that. It's just... If that knight is who I fear he is, then Dracherwold and Garowain are in big trouble."

"Great," Enorwin mumbled, "another obstacle we can't overcome."