The Dragon Knight Prophecy

1-8 A dragon named Lilly

 The room was tiny, barely a cell, but it was the only place he could use as an office. The only remarkable feature was the worn wooden desk and a single high back chair that rocked on a broken leg. He sat in that undignified little cell to ensure all was ready for the Father Abbot's arrival and avoid any undue complications.

"The work needs to be done before he gets here," Dellain said in a dull voice while tapping his fingers in irritation, wondering why he was chosen for this task.

Before him stood two men in the most contrasting outfits, one was tall and wore a simple black coat over olive green pants. He had a strange, almost gray color to his skin and was completely bald. His companion was a full head shorter with long blond hair that splayed about his shoulders. He dressed in a fancy colorful robe made of shades of reds and oranges. It draped over his form as if it was a size too large, making him appear foolish. Both men looked at one another and then to Dellain, their faces devoid of acknowledgment.

"The shaping will take some time, but so long as the smiths can keep up, it should be ready," the red-clothed man said in a smooth voice.

Dellain frowned and ceased his tapping on the old worn desk. Something about that voice irritated him. It lacked any measure of respect or simple courtesy. It was the voice of a man who felt he had the upper hand and was openly mocking him. The fool had better learn you don't mock a raven guard, especially the order's captain-general. Still, he needed this task done, and these were the men to see it through. He leaned back to scratch at his chin before answering, his eyes showing his displeasure. "Most of the molds are already done. I am told they will be able to pour by morning."

"Then we will start the shaping in the morning and etch the runes in as they cool. That should speed things up and ensure they are ready in time," the tall gray-skinned man said with an arrogant voice more suited to a king's hall.

"And how long will it take?" Dellain asked as his gaze shifted to the gray man. He watched as the brows on the man's weathered face creased as if in annoyance. He wasn't accustomed to answering questions or speaking, for that matter. He let his fool companion in red do most of the talking, but when he did open his mouth, it was full of disdain, as if this task were beneath him. If this task failed, there would be nothing beneath him as he hung from a rope Dellain mused.

"The shaping is not complex. Any shaper with a year of training could do it in a few hours," the red man replied when his taller companion refused to answer.

"Good, the Father Abbot, will be pleased," Dellain replied with a slow sigh, the weariness of talking to these men taking its toll.

"I do wonder how you managed to acquire the blood?" the red-robed man asked, his face taking on a slight smile.

Dellain's eyes narrowed as he glared at the man whose smug expression only deepened. Answering their questions was not part of his mission, and he honestly didn't know. The Father Abbot hadn't told him where the dragon's blood came from, and he knew better than to ask. He accepted the jar with a simple nod and went on his way, leaving spies behind to search for the information. The Father Abbot was skilled at hiding his secrets, and he doubted his spies would learn anything, but such a strange gift had to come from somewhere.

"You are being paid to enchant the items, not ask questions," Dellain said with some measure of victory at being able to deny them.

"There Is the matter of the silver you promised us," the tall man said, looking down his nose at Dellain.

The tone of that voice indicated he believed Dellain wasn't trustworthy enough to pay. For a brief moment, he entertained drawing his sword but quickly put the idea away. The mission was more important, and there would be time to deal with their arrogance later. His gaze shifted between the two men who represented the local shapers guild. Were it not for their gift in binding the weave's magic to items, they would not be given such leeway of speech. Still, even if they were polite and cordial, he didn't care for shapers. They always seemed arrogant, flaunting their skill with the weave and what they could create. They openly spoke as if they were great powers, and many sold their services, rising to nobility due to vast wealth. It was those careless words that drew his ire. Too many of the things they said tread on the toes of the gods. While it was true, they could do many things a priest could not; they were not at liberty to compare themselves to the divine. Unlike the gods, they would die one day and be forgotten, a fate that could not come soon enough. Their self-serving nature was why they were in this very room, highlighting what Dellain disliked about them the most. They could be bought for a modest price, wealth the only motivation. They had no dedication or loyalty to anybody but themselves and carried their price openly.