The Dragon Princess and the Cook

Chapter 11 - Welcome to Vastadia

Several hours passed as Jorn steadily led his horse through the labyrinth of trees that made up the forest of Orslock. Even at the peak of the day, there was a powerful chill in the air. Clouds shifted in the breeze, covering the sun and filtering its light. It came as little surprise to the aged merchant when tiny flecks of pure white started to lazily drift down from uppermost reaches of the sky.
As the year drew closer and closer to its end, snow would become an almost common sight for the residents of Elivan.
By the time Tren eventually aroused from his slumber, there was already a thin sheet of snow covering the forest floor. He peeked out from his blanket and smiled as countless snowflakes slowly descended from the frigid, blue skies above. A couple of them rested upon his brow as he watched but quickly melted away. As gently as he could, Tren clambered out from the sheet of coarse fabric he had laid out a matter of hours ago, grateful for the warmth it had provided. He looked about the woodlands with wide-eyed wonder, noticing that the cart left a faint trail in the snow as it was tugged on along the now scarcely visible path.
"Well, look who's finally awake!" called Jorn from his place atop Brollo. He risked a glance round and gave a friendly wave to his drowsy passenger. "Did you sleep well?"
"Quite so, thank you," Tren replied with a grateful nod. Checking back to see whether Talla had woken, the boy was greeted by a bundle of fluffed up feathers, still huddling cosily into the blanket. The little peregrine chirruped softly to herself as she slept soundly. It seemed as though some things would never change...
"When did this snow start?" asked the young human, a little quieter now that he knew that his friend was still asleep.
"About an hour ago," replied Jorn. "It's falling very slowly, though. I doubt there'll be much left of it by sundown," he added with weathered certainty before turning his attention back towards the frosted road. From what Tren could make out, they were already nearing the edge of the forest. Vastadia could not be more than a mile from there. The snow did not seem to hinder Jorn or his steed in the slightest, the young stallion trod on through the crisp, white blanket effortlessly, almost as though he was completely unaware of its icy touch. By the hour, the last of Orslock's twisted branches were far behind the group. The path joined with an aged dirt road that ran down from the Elvanian Mountains and went onwards towards the city of Vastadia. Its turrets and spires could be seen faintly in the distance, with flags of greyish blue fluttering amongst the snowfall.
The city was a stark contrast to the sleepy town of Glision that Tren was used to. Its borders were plainly marked by a vast wall of limestone. The towering fortifications encompassed the entire city, with guards patrolling the battlements at all hours and only two main entrances for those without wings; one on the western side of the city and another on the northern side. Even those whose freedom was not bound to the earth would think twice before venturing towards such a city with ill intent.
Tren gulped as Vastadia loomed ever closer, wondering whether he and Talla would even make it past the entrance. Around them, several farms and small stone houses with thatched roofs dotted the frozen meadows, looking towards the great city in the distance for supplies and protection.
There were beings of all kinds about the road as the group neared their goal; elves from as far as the Feathered Vale, elders from the sand cities in the east, even a couple of wolves trotted along the path, chatting with one another. While some were clearly heading on their way to Vastadia, most were getting on with their business for the day. There were a couple who stood and stared as Tren and his friends passed by, but the vast majority were too busy dealing with their own problems to pay much heed.
Watching in awe, Tren let out a gasp as a flock of feathered folk passed overhead and landed upon the aged wall that surrounded Vastadia, likely in the middle of sending some information to the king of Elivan himself. The sound of wings fluttering through the snow was enough to finally wake Talla from her extended rest. She poked her feathered head out from under the blanket and yawned profoundly.
"Are we there already?" the young bird asked with a shiver as she stepped out into the icy air.
Tren turned back to where Talla sat and smiled, glad to see that the peregrine had finally decided to get up. "We've still a little way to go..." he explained gently. "But you can see for yourself that it won't be all that long."
Doing as instructed, Talla climbed up onto the rim of the cart and looked out towards their destination with gladness. The city was no more than half an hour's walk away by now.
Tren and Talla had visited Vastadia on a couple of occasions before, and as such, they knew pretty much what to expect. The western entrance ahead was the main entry into the city. Its doors stayed open all year round, only ever being closed if the city should come under attack. It was well protected throughout the day by two of the city's guards, one of which had often been Duran.
As the cart continued to trundle along the old pathway into Vastadia, Tren noticed that, true to Jorn's word, the snow was indeed beginning to lessen. The sky above was almost clear again, and the ground was starting to free itself from the sheet of ice that had once blanketed it. Only in the shadow of Vastadia's extravagant wall did the snow seem to keep its form.
Jorn had kept quiet for most of the trip, not wanting to wake Talla any more than Tren did. But now that the two passengers were conscious, he spoke with them for a while, right up until he reached the entrance of Vastadia.
The western entryway into the grand city lay tall and proud for all to see. A colossal tree with crumbling white bark stood on either side of the entrance, their branches reaching out and forming something of an arch, under which the road ran on into the depths of Vastadia. In the summer, the two trees would come alive with a beautiful display of deep green leaves and purple blossoms, but at the moment, only lifeless branches sprawled out over the archway, a few withered leaves still clinging to what was left.
Jorn continued to lead Brolo down the icy pathway, expecting to enter the city without so much as a word from the guards that stood either side of it. It came as quite the surprise to him when the two dragons stepped out from their places and blocked the cart from going any further. Brolo snorted and backed away at the sight.
The dragon guards both wore gleaming sliver armour that bore the crest of Elivan. Such armour was normally reserved exclusively for the paladins and fighters that would don the attire only when confronted with war. On their heads, the dragons wore iron helmets that fitted their unique skulls perfectly. Both were strapped to their scales by strong strips of leather that fitted in place just below their chin. Amongst other pieces of armour, the two dragons also had a thin blade attached to their tails.
While dragons could easily spend time standing upon their hind legs and using their forelegs to manipulate things the same way humans used their hands, they were quadrupeds by nature and this manner of wielding a weapon felt far more natural to them. They could swing their tails at great speeds and in any direction required. When in the right stance, they could be just as formidable as any swordsman.
"Something the matter?" Jorn asked. He watched, completely bewildered as the two guards passed him and began sniffing around his cart. One took a careful glance underneath the rickety wagon while the other checked its contents.
"Tren?" asked the dragon upon noticing the boy and his bird sitting in the back of Jorn's cart.
"Do I know you?" the young human replied, frowning as he looked closely at the dragon. The helmet he wore obscured most of his facial features, but his eyes and lower jaw could still be seen, both of which were a striking shade of turquoise.
Just as Tren started to recognise the curious guard, he decided to remove his helmet, letting his identity be known to all.