Of Dragon Riders and Shadows

Chapter One - How to Save a Life

October the 16th, in the year 579 of the tenth age of Thallium

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There are truths that even children know, deep in their bones.

Said truths were why Rexeus of the Regency line, first of his name, was staring apathetically at the open tome, knowing that there was no use studying for lessons and expanding any sort of effort. He was tucked into a corner in the Chamber of Knowledge, having as a task to memorize the very complicated family trees of the four lines. Rex knew most of it, in his head – until it was time to report. Then, his mind went blank, and any useful knowledge vanished.

 He was currently a very throbbing mess. His fall two days ago from the wall had resulted in bruising his back and arm.

Though most of the pain had leeched away by mid-morning, the mere thought of yesterday's report to the learned men of the castle was enough to send waves of shame and embarrassment and hurt. That, and the conversation he'd overheard after sneaking breakfast rolls from Cook, all shaped his current lethargic mood.

There seemed to be no reason for him to work, or think, instead of curling up into a ball and wishing he would just...disappear. Normally, around this time he would have snapped out of it, forced himself to push away those thoughts and focus on the task at hand. It was a matter of pride, spiting every-one in the castle by not giving himself up, by studying despite the miserable results, by surviving when it would have been so much more expedient for him to have died at birth. Normally, that is.

Today, it seemed he had no will. Staring at the same page, over and over, was the only thing his mind and body was letting him do. His eyes began to close, and his head drooped onto the open book. He was so tired... Wouldn't it be a benefit, if he was to simply, disappear? Die, like he ought to have nine winters ago? Wouldn't it be so much better?

The now-drowsing boy did not notice a white-and-purple mist encasing his body, slowing down his breath, cutting off his air. He did not notice the crown on his head, glowing pearly white before beginning to dim. Rex certainly did not notice the shadow alight by his corner, having made sure no-one else was about. There was no-one else to see the slight hesitation – the recognition of who the slowly dying boy was – and then the grim determination of the shadow.

The next thing Rex remembered was waking up with a silent gasp, greedily gulping air. Looking around with bleary eyes, he saw no-one, and nothing, even though he swore he could feel something. As a rule, he avoided feeling things, but this time it had happened without him doing it on purpose. He looked down at the page again, noticing for the first time how very angry his ancestress Lucretia looked. He still felt so tired, and had a hard time mustering up any sort of determination. However, Rex could move his body again, and most of the remnants of pain had...vanished.

Like any other child living in the Gray Palace, Rex had heard the tales, had seen the Examples. Cook had told him, just last week, that if the gods appeared to meddle in your affairs, you had to show respect or else CONSEQUENCES WOULD HAPPEN! Firstly, he had no wish to be one of the Examples laid out by the back drawbridge, so that people would know not to disrespect the gods in such blatant ways. Secondly, it seemed...bad, somehow, to not give thanks. Just because he was a prince, and didn't give thanks often, didn't mean he shouldn't try.

Panting at the exertion, Rex took one last look at the page, tried to fix it into his memory with all his might, snapped the tome closed, and struggled to his feet. He returned the tome, having to force it back between two even thicker books, coughing at the displaced dust, and all but staggered out. In the blessed cold and quiet of the hallway outside the Chamber of Knowledge, Rex focused his mind on the actual act. The only question, really, was who he should pay tribute to.