Dragonbound: Birthrights (Book 2)
Plans to Move Forward

The guards were healing well, though their pride was still a bit shook. Kiaran was sure to reward them for their efforts in returning with such useful information--and for returning alive.

A couple of days had passed, and she had spent much more time in the library than she wanted. She was stiff and sore still from her escape from Brinn, but she felt the only way to relieve it was to move. Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ (F)indNƟvᴇl.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

It was not often that she found herself on the training grounds of Vintar. However, once there, everyone had stopped their training to show respect for their crowned princess. Not liking the attention, she told them to get back to training.

Finding a quiet corner in a wide field, she trained without weapons. She fought Arnol, the general of her army. He was similar to Walter in his attitude, but looked very much different. He had no scars and no facial hair. His eyes showed his age, yet he seemed much younger than he really was.

As they sparred, Kiaran’s head was swarmed with all the words of the stories she had read. Her heart weighed heavy with the impending war with Brinn. Peace wasn't something that seemed to last around her. Chaos, rather, would follow her like a cloud of darkness. A fog which settled in all at once, giving no notice.

Spending so much time in the books had cluttered her head. Her mind was jumbled with several distractions. And because of that, Arnol finally landed a hit on her. She stumbled backward, running a hand over her already bruising jaw.

He tossed his hands aside, asking, “Your Highness?”

“I am distracted,” she admitted.

“I can tell." He rested his hands on his hips, breathing deeply. “Need a drink, Queen?”

“Stop calling me that,” she mumbled. “And...yes.”

He tossed her a waterskin and she opened it, taking a heavy gulp. It was warm, but still quenching regardless. “So...” he began, taking a drink of his own water, “will there be a war?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “You’ll know when I make a decision.”

“I’d assume as much,” he grinned. “Brinn is a small country, but his men are built sturdy and their equipment even more so.”

“So I’ve noticed,” she nodded. “Thank you, Arnol.” She handed him the waterskin, rubbing her jaw again. “I have something I should tend to.” Wiping some sweat from her face, she turned to leave.

“I hear Captain Chase is fairing better,” he said as she walked away.

“He is, luckily,” she agreed uneasily. As she made her exit, everyone stopped their training to bow as she passed.

Reaching the castle, she made her way through the cool hallways toward the library. Cyrin was always there; it was something Kiaran could rely on.

Reaching the doors, she moved inside only to find it empty. “Huh,” she cocked her head a bit. Where would he have gone?

Turning around, she saw him walking in with a tray of food and fresh tea. “Hungry,” he lifted the tray as if for proof.

“I was thinking,” she said, following him to the table where they usually sat. “That letter--the one written in Draken, where was it found?”

“In a small town in the far north,” he shrugged.

“I think we should investigate it,” she suggested. “What if it was a warning against another three-decade war? Who was it from--an enemy or ally?”

He pondered on it, taking a bite of his bread. “It’s something to look into,” he shrugged. “I’ve been curious, myself, actually.”

She was quiet a moment. “We should go. And it is near Brinn, we could ask if they’ve noticed any activity.” He nodded, a sudden look of disdain spreading across his face. “What?” she asked.

“They are in our mountains.”

She grumbled, shaking her head. “On our way to the town, we’ll stop at the Hollow Mountain, and I’ll speak with Kriettor.”

Cyrin ran a hand over his head as he took another bite of food. He scowled to himself as he poured some tea. “Cyrin,” Kiaran cut through his thoughts. His eyes shot to her and she said, “Why don’t you go eat someplace...nicer?”

“Why?” he asked curiously. “It’s nice in here.”

“...Perhaps,” she said slowly, “But you’ve been in here for days. It is likely stressing you out and you’ll not get anything done in that state.”

Sighing shortly, he stood with his tray. He watched her for a moment and asked, “Are you staying?”

“Oh,” she stood as well. “No.”

They moved down the hall to a side door that led to a small yard. It was plain, only a couple of bushes and a stone table with benches. Sitting across from one another, Cyrin poured Kiaran a cup of tea and they began to eat.

“Have you learned anything of interest?” Kiaran asked.

“Nothing that could help,” he shrugged. “They are mostly tales. They are inaccurate and exaggerated. But the details you need are hardly ever mentioned. Our library lacks foreign histories--perhaps that is something we should invest in.”

“That has been an issue for us,” she sighed. "We'll work on that. But first, I'd like to finish what's going on now."

“Right. Well, maybe we'll find something in town.”

“Hopefully,” she agreed.

He lifted his eyes, noticing the bruise that was swelling along her jaw. Lowering a brow, he asked, “How did you get that?” He gestured to her jaw.

“I was sparring,” she answered. “My thoughts were distracting and he landed a hit,” she shrugged. That was when he noticed her wild ponytail and her plain clothes.

“Well, it is good to train in case we truly are in danger of war,” he nodded his head.

“Unfortunately, that is true,” she muttered.

“Do not worry, Your Highness, we will be successful, just as we have been in the past,” he assured her.

“No,” she shook her head. “I do not want another thirty-year war. I will not allow that to happen.”

“No one allows it,” he said under his breath.

Ruthianna glided overhead, gently swooshing down to the small area of grass near them. The gust of wind rolled over them from her wings, rattling the ceramic teapot.

Cyrin smiled at her arrival. “Good afternoon to you as well,” he said.

She trilled, her voice deep and soothing. She lied down in the sun, curling her tail around herself. The tip of her tail lied over her snout, only her eyes visible.

“How far is the northern town?” Kiaran asked.

“About a four day trip if we take the riders,” he answered.

“Alright,” she nodded.

Kiaran and Cyrin stood in a wide, round room which was filled with maps and scrolls of all sorts. Cyrin pulled out a wide map and spread it on a round table. He used some paperweights to keep the corners down.

It was a vast map of Avestitia, the land covered in uncharted forests of pines and tall, rough mountains that no one dared to journey. It was a large country, the land filled with dragons. It was ideal for them.

Pointing to an area of small mountains and many trees, he said, “That is Trinelim. It is the town where the letter was found.”

Kiaran nodded, noting the forest behind the Hollow Mountain that they’d have to surpass. “It will not be an easy journey,” she mumbled, running her fingertips along the canvass.

“Williem Varthen is the earl of the town. He...is an odd man. Always trying to swindle his way around the country...Though he has been quite successful in doing so,” he noted. “I will be sure to come along, just to insure that things go correctly. It is easy to say one wrong thing and he can twist that around against you.”

“Understood," she half-smi

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