Prince of Dragons

Chapter 3 - Journey

Looking in the mirror on his wall, Arwund Marholdson realised he had never looked this... rich before. 

After he had washed of the dirt of the moat the day before, a servant had left him a new set of clothes, consisting of a spotless white tunic, brown, leather trousers and leather boots. The tunic had been embroidered with a golden sword, the symbol of the Flaming Lands. Around his waist, he was now wearing a leather belt with a golden buckle. If people didn't know any better, they might actually think he was a knight, or a squire, at the very least. He smiled inwardly at the irony of it: he, one of the most infamous draconic humans in the Flaming Lands, needed by the crown prince himself. 

Considering the fact that he'd been chained to a prison wall just yesterday, the way he had been treated after he struck his deal with Enorwin was beyond ridiculous. He'd been given a new set of clothing and a room with a bed in it. A warm, comfortable bed. In comparison to the prison floor, that was quite an improvement. 

However, the real shock came at dinnertime. 

He was allowed to eat with the rest of court on the condition that he would keep his mouth shut. Enorwin, who turned out to be overly concerned with his good reputation, didn't want to be seen in the company of a criminal. Arwund decided that it was probably best for him to do as he was told this time: he didn't exactly feel like being sent back to the dungeons. 

Dinner was nothing short of a feast. He had never eaten so much meat at one meal before. There was poultry, there was pork, there was beef. There were plenty of vegetables, too, of course, and Arwund found himself briefly wondering how many serfs had been forced to give up the food they could have used to feed their own families for this meal. However, that was none of his concern: he'd long ago given up on the idea that he could possibly change society. He had come to accept that this was the way things were and he did not feel ashamed to admit that looking after himself was now always his top priority. 

And now here he was, wearing beautifully crafted clothes, standing in front of a mirror after having had a good night's sleep. He didn't believe in fate, but if it existed after all, it probably liked him. 

He heard someone opening the lock of his door. Enorwin had found it safer to lock him up for the night so as to prevent him from escaping. Arwund didn't mind: he hadn't been expecting anything else anyway. 

After the lock had been opened, he heard someone knock the door. 

"Come in!" Arwund called. 

A servant entered and left a wooden plate with some bread and a chunk of cheese on Arwund's desk. He left wordlessly. Arwund sat down on the chair in front of the desk and began to eat. He had to eat well: if he did, he knew he would regain his firepower. Not that he intended to use it, of course. But you never knew when a blast of fire would come in handy.

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Prince Enorwin of the Flaming Lands was growing more excited by the minute. He struggled to remain calm. He was fully aware of the fact that he was going on his very first quest. Finally, he would be able to turn everything he had learnt about fighting, riding and travelling into practice. Finally, he would be able to prove his worth as a prince. 

He had to admit that he secretly hoped there was a real dragon involved. Slaying a dragon like the great knights of yore, that was something he had always wanted to do. No, he hadn't just wanted to do it. He knew it was his destiny. He had always felt it. At some point, he would slay a dragon and bring back the old tradition of knighthood. And now, if the gods wanted it, he would be able to fulfil that destiny. He would be able to carry on his ancestors' legacy.