The Dragon Princess and the Cook

Chapter 13 - A Matter of Trust

It was a bracing sprint, but before long, the boy and his bird were back, standing before the threshold of Vastadia's royal fortress. It somehow managed to seem even more daunting in the pale light of the moons. The sandstone, with its usual yellowish hue, looked a chalky white next to the black canvas of cloudy skies.
Tren groaned a little as his attention was brought to his next obstacle, the flight of snow-covered stairs that climbed up to the gates of the castle. With painfully slow steps, the young man urged his way to the top, shivering as the prolonged exposure to the cold started to take its toll. Taking a final, shaky step, Tren reached the top of the stairs and was greeted by the same two guards that he and Talla had met earlier. Like before, they spread their wings out in warning, blocking the way forward with admirable efficiency, almost as if they never tired of their positions.
"Don't you two ever sleep?" Talla huffed with frustration. It seemed they were going to have to stand out, despite the terrible weather, and explain their business to the guards once again. With a bit of luck, though, things could turn out quite differently this time...
"Sleep is a luxury to the likes of us, especially when suspicious folk such as yourselves come skulking up to the gates," growled the less reasonable guard as he recognised the two who stood before him. His comrade noticed them too, but as he sensed no danger, he decided to lower his tailblade and approach them.
"Why have you returned?" he asked, looking down at the two curiously.
"We received a letter from one of your messengers," explained Tren. He pulled out the aged parchment from his pocket and handed it to the guard. The dragon took the paper with clear caution and unfolded it.
"Ah yes, Yenpha's little game to find herself a new apprentice. I'm surprised she'd accept a human..." muttered the dragon. His armour glinted slightly as a cloud passed over the moons. "Why didn't you show us this earlier?" he added, still a little suspicious despite the letter's apparent legitimacy.
"A fault on our side," replied Tren, unshaken. "Your messenger had trouble finding us. The blizzard didn't help matters either. We would have waited until tomorrow, but the letter explicitly states that Yenpha must receive some word from us before the competition starts..."
"Let me see that," asked the sterner dragon, though it was more of a demand than a request. He swiped the delicate parchment from his colleague's grasp and meticulously examined it for faults. Tren couldn't help but wince with every ruffle the letter gave under the guard's harsh grip. "How are we to know that you didn't forge this?" he persecuted brutally, swishing his tail through the air as he read.
"That's enough, Desaph," warned the first guard. He carefully plucked the parchment from his comrade's hands and returned it to Tren's keeping. "The seal is genuine. There's nothing more to be said. I'll escort these two to the conference hall. The king and queen have yet to retire for the night. If we are fortunate, we may just catch them."
And with that, the dragon guards unlocked the hefty iron gates to the citadel and ushered Tren and Talla inside. Desaph stayed on the outer side of the gates and eyed the two with distrust while his colleague, Allian, led them down a dark stone corridor that thrust its way through the centre of the gatehouse. The passageway was short, lit by torches that flickered and crackled in the dark, giving the way ahead an orange glow. Allian watched Tren and Talla carefully, making sure they kept to the path he followed. He led the two out from the musty gatehouse and into a spacious court of dwindling grass and leafless trees that shivered in the bitter winds. The snow crunched as Allian stepped out into the pale moonlight. He waved his tail forward, gesturing for Tren and Talla to keep up.
"You ought to know, I succeeded in granting you an audience with the queen after you'd left," explained the armoured dragon, waiting patiently as Tren and his feathered friend stepped out into the inner court and glanced about in awe. "She told me she would have time to speak with you in the morning over your matter concerning Duran Safoak..." he added, though his voice seemed to have weakened somewhat.
The courtyard spread out around the small group, blanketed in a layer of glittering white snow. The grass beneath was crisp and shrivelled, as were many of the bushes that the sudden blizzard had taken by surprise. Every tree was bare, with browning leaves piled high against ivy strewn walls.
Though impressive in its own way, the garden was bleak and desolate. Only the darkest green plants seemed able to endure such weather. Be that as it may, Tren was willing to wager that in the height of summer, the courtyard would come alive with colour and fragrances. He looked about the garden, almost able to picture where flowers would bloom and vegetables would grow, where livestock would roam and tents would be set up.
At the far end of the court, two grand halls stood, blocking visitors from the second half of the castle as effectively as any parapet. They met with the central spire and a number of smaller buildings and towers in the very heart of the castle's grounds.
The courtyard and the conference hall were the only parts of the grand citadel most beings ever saw. The inner workings of the castle were reserved primarily for its residents. To the left hand side of the frosted courtyard was a number of quaint greenhouses, a few stone buildings that connected roughly to the northern hall, and an old, wooden shed where the groundskeeper would likely store his tools.