Heart of a Warrior

Chapter 1: Dragonsdale

The head bounced and rolled across the spacious room, until it came to rest at sword master Sir Arden's feet. ''That's a good swing you've got there lad, but you would do well to have something to practice on tomorrow, so let's keep the training dummy intact shall we?" The sword master quipped, with a twinge of pride in his voice for his pupil.

His pupil Alexander Blackwood was short, at least among Dragonhold standards, with caramel eyes, and dark brown hair, with a slim build and a beard to rival the dwarves of the north. All of this set him apart from the typical tall, well built men of the Dragonhold hills, but what he lacked in normality, he made up for in ferocity and courage. Having found Alec as a child, in the ruins of Wispfell, the only thing Sir Arden knew about him is that his parents were killed by an orcish raiding party.

Sir Arden, the Warden of the Huntsmen of Dragonsdale, took him in. He raised him to live by the Huntsman's code, among the most elite warriors of Dragonsdale, specializing in tracking fugitives, and hunting monsters that threaten the realm. Together they had tracked down the most ferocious beasts and most sinister criminals the world had to offer. They may not have been blood, but they were family.

"Tell you what kid, run a round of archery, and then we can call it a day. Just give me three bullseyes in a row." Sir Arden said with a smirk. With swift and deadly precision, Alec nocked three consecutive arrows and one by one, sunk each of them in the direct center of all three archery targets in front of him.
"By the All-Father lad! Just get out of here, and quit showing off." Sir Arden exclaimed with a smile.

Alec quivered his spent arrows, and hung his bow and quiver back where they belonged, and darted out of the ornately built barracks, and up into the tower. He ran upstairs and freshened up. A bath had already been drawn for him, but he took little time to relax. As soon as he had dressed and freshened up, he ran out of the Huntsmen's tower and into the street.

He walked outside and the dwindling light of dusk shone through the buildings and towers of the city, as he closed the door behind him. The city was bustling with activity, as they each ran about their lives. A drunken gnome waddled past, whistling some old gnomish tune about a long forgotten forest, while his beard blew behind him like a banner in the wind. A blacksmith called out, advertising the quality of his tools and weaponry, as an elven baker announced that the herbs he used were imported from the Cordonian Forest.

A flurry of gnomish curses filled the air, as Alec tripped on the drunken gnome's beard. Hitting the cobblestone with a thud, Alec spat out dust, while the gnome continued to spit out vulgarities. "Watch where you're going ya bumbling half wit!" The gnome finally shouted in the Common tongue. Alec could hardly say a word before the gnome wobbled away, hiccuping as he went. Watching his step as he ran in between vendors on the cobblestone road, Alec pressed on with only one person on his mind.

Princess Arabella was one of the most beautiful girls he'd ever met. But she was different. She was graceful and elegant, yet her skill with magic made her one of the most dangerous people in the city. And even without it she could hold her own in a fight. Much to the disdain of her father.

Her entire family, including the King himself, were natural born sorcerers with the ability to tap into storm magic. The gift of controlling rain and lightning, had kept the farms in the kingdom of Dragonhold well watered, and the town safe from attacks since time immemorial. Her understanding of the ancient arts made her a dangerous and cunning sorceress. But her heart, and compassion, made her a an even better princess. Alec counted himself lucky to have her attention.

She had promised him a spot next to her at tonight's feast, and he refused to keep her waiting. Sprinting through markets and alleyways, Alec made his way to the castle.