The Champion *ON HOLD*

Chapter 15- The High Council

A/N: Okay, so I don't think y'all realize just how much I enjoyed writing this chapter. Like seriously, too much. Originally the ending of this chapter was very dark and gloomy, but this edit has changed that ever so slightly and I think I like this version better. Foreshadowing, yay! Please enjoy chapter 15 of The Champion.

Thorovar shifted in his seat. His hip was bothering him again. Doing his best to hide his discomfort, he shifted again and did his best to focus on the meeting at hand. Alyvan, noticing his fidgeting, gave him a pitying smile and turned back to her fellow council members. He hated being pitied.

Thorovar was nine hundred and eighty-four years old, one of the oldest members on the High Council, aside from Yynivan, who was nine hundred and ninety, and Ullhvar, who had reached a thousand and two years. Even though he was not the oldest, he certainly felt like it. His once dark blonde hair was now gray all over, beginning to turn white, and he had more than a few wrinkles. Four of his front teeth had fallen out and he had to have false ones fashioned out of ivory implanted in his mouth so he could still eat and talk properly. His hip was constantly bothering him and his chartreuse eyes were beginning to fail him. He feared his hearing would follow soon and he would no longer be able to serve as a council member. That frightened him the most.

Over the past ten years, the Dragon Riders had changed. He wasn't sure what happened, but they no longer acted as protectors of the realm. Instead, many riders were acting as mercenaries, serving lords and kings alike, claiming each man they served was acting in defense of the realm. He had a feeling, however, that he knew what the cause of the dragon rider's change of heart was, or rather who.

Raenavan.

He turned his gaze to the young, beautiful rider and frowned. Even though his eyes were beginning to fail him, he could see her silvery blonde hair that practically glowed in the torchlight. Her skin, pale as ivory. Her lips, full and red as a rose, quick to reprimand and mete out harsh punishments. And her eyes, the most unnerving thing about her, were such a pale violet that they were almost white.

She sat at the High Seat, as was customary for the Dragon Knight, and looked down solemnly at the speaker standing on the floor. Her pale, golden armor glimmered softly in the torchlight and she was leaning back somewhat in her chair, her elbows resting on the arms, her fingers steepled under her chin.

The speaker, a tall, comely man, wearing a white, linen shirt and wool breeches tucked into soft leather boots, was reading reports off of several pieces of parchment. His voice shook slightly as he read the news. He had good reason to be afraid. Lately, Raenavan was given to locking up people who gave her displeasing information. They were beginning to run out of room in the dungeons.

"King Adhemar is deploying his fleet north along the Jagged Coast to intercept supply ships bound from Mythros to Aslia. He has pushed his frontlines forward twenty leagues along the eastern part of the border. Mythran ships have been spotted along the western coast of Aslia, in the Black Sea and the Northern Gulf, providing supplies to Kaerndal Keep. It is reported that among the supplies are grains, corn, beans, barley, poultry, sheep, goats, cattle, medicine, and weapons.

"Owun's First and Third armies are moving south by southeast toward Adhemar's advancing frontline. It is said that he is going to amass his armies at Eastmarch. Adhemar plans to meet him and lead a siege against it." The man flipped through a few of his parchments and cleared his throat. Thorovar had a feeling he would not like what was going to be said.

"Another report recently came in that Owun has employed a dragon rider in his Third army." Thorovar turned to the Dragon Knight and watched her eyes widen for an instant before narrowing in anger. His eyes, although blurred, could see her full, red lips tighten in a hard, angry line.