The Prysm Cycle: Of Glass and Iron.

Chapter 2: The Golden Gloves.

At least he thought it was, he'd often had curious dreams, but this one. It felt alive.  He held onto the pieces, the dragon, the babe, and the watcher. What did it all mean? Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Ryker gathered that he seemed alright and was still in his chambers where he'd fallen asleep mere hours prior. The golden glow of dawn trickled through embroidered drapes, basking him in rays of warm honey.

The day was already alive with townsfolk as church bells rang throughout the city.
"The new prince is born! Spread the word!"' Ryker listened to a peasant yelling in the streets, reminding him of the distant cry. 'My dream has nothing to do with this.' He dismissed the thought before peeling his sweat-soaked shirt over his head. Tossing it aside, along with the rest of his under garments he began to get dressed.

Dawning half his clothes his mind wondered. He couldn't shake this dream. Ryker began to pace about his chambers. The dragon appeared to be connected to Pyromancy, something they had in common. Maybe it had all been just a dream. His Source a monstrous beast unable to be controlled, yet that hadn't explained the rest. If he'd known any better he'd have thought the beast was an omen of some sort. Although he hadn't been a true believer of prophetic dreams, something about this beast was burned into his mind. There'd been many tales of old, depicting a colossal dragon that represented the Source of Pyromancy, some believing the creature to be a deity of some sorts, but the ages of gods are done and gone. Replaced with tense ties between allied countries, each preparing wars, that will lead to annihilation.

Turning from his thoughts to the door he noticed a silver tray upon a marble pedestal presenting the prince's breakfast. A silver pear, a loaf of chestnut bread, and a small block of yak cheese, met his eyes. Even his meals were to be had in secrecy. Ryker ate quickly before the sound of an eagle's cry gave him a fresh perspective that today was going to be a day unlike any other, he was sure of it.

Sporting a much dryer tunic and a well-fitted pair of slacks, he strolled from his chambers and down the stairs, pushing his dream to the back of his mind. As he descended the steps, he spotted a man clad in leather armour milling about the courtyard. Ryker halted momentarily, stepping towards the window to get a better view. He recognized him instantly. Issar's slender frame flowed around the courtyard as he attacked a defenseless dummy, accompanied by a group of spectating guards loitering around the yard.

Ryker could see him clearly as he neared. He watched as Issar gracefully struck a practice dummy with a blunt sword. Continuing down the stone steps, Ryker walked into the courtyard, his hand shielding his eyes as the morning sun that burned into them.
"Hey Issar!" Ryker announced "How was the meeting?" He asked, his eyes adjusting to the light.
"Quiet. How do you know about that anyways?" Issar responded in a hushed tone, stepping towards the prince.
"The guard is a bad whisperer, now tell me. What did you hear?" Curiosity escaped Ryker's lips before he could assume a more regal tone. "You will tell me Theradrix." Issar could not avoid the question any longer.
"Your father . . . He wants to attack the Thëos alliance."
"What? How?" Ryker dropped his voice lower, the gaze of the King's Guard more piercing than the blades they carried.
"He didn't say much, he just said he's been working with the Emperor." Ryker turned to his Theradrix in confusion.
"The Emperor is conspiring with my father to start a war? Amazing! That's fantastic!" Sarcasm sharp on his tongue.
"It's not all that bad, think of all the sights we'll see," Issar said, Ryker remembered the countless nights he and Issar would talk about escaping into the alliance to start fresh, somewhere away from the rules and regulations.
"Yeah, hey maybe this way you might actually get to explore it," Ryker replied, his voice catching like a thorn. "I'll be stuck within the castle walls."
"Hey I'm sure whatever it is will die out soon enough. I mean he didn't even tell us how. So it's not going to occur in the next fortnight." He laughed, patting a dusty hand upon Ryker's shoulder. "Speaking of your father. He said he wanted to see you, I told you you'd get to meet the new prince," Issar's words stung like a barbed wasp. How he could support his father when he planned on waging a war for no reason other than "revenge." Ryker nodded. Although his fathers plans left a taste worse than any amount of Pyromancy, he swallowed his pride and turned to go.
"I'll see you tonight?" He asked
"Tonight? Why?" Ryker turned.
"Tonight . . . at the ball?" Issar replied,
"Ball? What ball?" Ryker raised an eyebrow.
"For the prince? Each time there's a new royal babe—"
"Oh, trust me, I know the tradition, but why do we have to have it so soon? I mean, he was born today!" Ryker scoffed.
"Well, because of him, they feel the need to throw a ball rivaling the yearly cotillion hosted by one of the kingdoms of Mylenticore," Issar said mockingly. "And to make matters worse they want me to wear plate armour. PLATE ARMOUR! Let me tell you— by the night's end, I will not be able to walk."
"How will you survive? You're strong . . . Stronger than me that is." There'd been a hint of sarcasm but it quickly turned into embarrassment. "Besides you act as if my father would ever agree to his son plagued with the Source attending the most popular ball in the empire."
"Actually the contrary, just go see him. Okay?" Issar held Ryker for a moment, as he inhaled deeply.
"Well time to get the Source talk again, try and find me okay?"
Issar nodded his acknowledgment before Ryker disappeared behind cobblestone walls as he ascended steps leading towards the Southern tower. Towards the throne room.