The young man named Alain confessed to having received a large sum of gold crowns from a group of mysterious men in exchange for revealing the whereabouts of the child and helping get him out of Reidos Keep alive. He refused to say how they had contacted him, but he had realized the importance of what Rhien Mildavar was carrying in his arms when they returned from the cathedral, so completing the task hadn’t been difficult.
The next day, by midday, Alain’s head was on a spike beside Doknar’s main gate.
That afternoon, Sir Kalen ‘Fal, Galfrido, and Sir Rhien Mildavar gathered in the latter’s quarters.
“The Brotherhood of the Black Flame is here,” said the maester. “And I fear they have compromised the order and, therefore, the safety of the child. The servants are whispering through the halls, and it’s only a matter of time before we’re betrayed again. The boy must be taken to Trabarioth as soon as possible.”
“But we have to wait until winter passes, Brother Rhien,” Kalen protested.
"I don’t think we have that kind of time. The Brotherhood has acolytes everywhere, and they have already found out we have the Dragon Knight right here. They’ll do everything in their power to capture him. If it hadn’t been for Leiorus guiding Galfrido to our gates last night, things would’ve turned out very differently."
"Actually, it was the beer that guided me, in case anyone’s interested..."
Both knights looked at the warrior, frowning and visibly exhausted.
"Sorry, please continue."
"Brother Mildavar," said Kalen, massaging his temples, "there are no passes open to cross into Trabarioth in winter. The Ramei Mountains are a death trap this time of year. All the routes are closed."
"We have no alternative, Brother Fal. The Ramei range is full of hidden passes, many of them built underground by dwarves, and others used by smugglers. It’s the best option we have."
"I hate to interrupt, but may I remind you that the orcs seem to be multiplying in this region," Galfrido chimed in, chewing on a piece of dry, salted meat without much interest. "So our odds of success are dropping fast."
His plans to get out of Doknar had just gotten worse, because now they had to travel to an even bigger city, which most likely meant even more idiots inside. Pretty common in big cities, of course.
"Even so, Doknar has become much more dangerous for the child. Brother Fal, you must take the baby to the Frozen City and deliver him to Volrath. He’ll know how to hide him, how to raise him, and how best to protect him. We’ll need the child as an ally. I fear this has forced us to act earlier than planned."
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Kalen ‘Fal clenched his jaw, knowing his maester had already made up his mind. There was no turning back now. He returned to his quarters and wrote a letter to the elven mage, his former adventuring companion. The message would be encoded in case the dove was intercepted, but he felt Volrath needed to be aware of their arrival.
The next day, just as the sun was a half-closed eyelid with a pink halo around it, they left through the eastern gate of the city. Partly because it wasn’t the busiest entrance—it wasn’t the main one—and partly because it pointed directly toward the Ramei Mountains. Sir Mildavar had asked them to keep a low profile, so Kalen, despite wearing his armor and clerical garb, had a brown cloak that concealed those features, at least from a distance. He rode atop his faithful steed, Blackmane, with the child in his arms and leather bags packed full.
Galfrido, for his part, rode a slightly smaller brown horse. He wore studded leather armor and a thick bearskin cloak draped over his back. Leather bracers lined with wolf fur covered him from wrist to nearly elbow, but the upper parts of his arms were left exposed. No matter how cold it was, the warrior preferred it that way. His enormous greatsword always rested on his back, strapped across by a leather band fastened at the chest with a skull-shaped iron buckle.
The saddlebags on both steeds were filled with legumes, salted meat, and a few small barrels of rum to help endure the winter cold. They weren’t expecting an easy task—and they both knew it.
The mountains loomed in violet outlines, etched against a sky of pink and honey, painted by a still-shy sun. Gray clouds tinged with orange reflected above them seemed to foreshadow another storm, but they still had time to cover a few more kilometers in fair weather. Kalen ‘Fal looked down at the baby in his arms, who returned the gaze with a reptilian stare—almost unblinking, a trait that had become characteristic of him. They had barely heard him cry, and according to what the monk had told them, not only did he drink milk, but he also ate solid food—including meat.
The knight was beginning to notice the biological differences between the baby and the rest of humanity. Despite his appearance, it was clear he didn’t belong to their species. Two months of gestation, only a few months of life, and he could already eat solid food. His body was always warm, giving off a feverish sensation. He barely slept, yet he never seemed tired. His metabolism was something new—something strange. Even his skin, at times, seemed to shimmer, as if reflecting a hint of scales under certain light.
“We can’t just keep calling him ‘the boy,’” the knight said suddenly.
“And why not? He is a boy,” Galfrido replied, bringing his horse alongside.
“No… he needs a name.”
He held the child with both hands and furrowed his brow as he looked at him. The baby burst into laughter, flailing his arms, prompting the warrior to crack a smile.
“We’ll call him Drako.”
“Drako?” Galfrido shrugged. “It’s a good name. Not very original, sure, but a good name. I like it.”
And so, Kalen ‘Fal, Galfrido, and Drako left Doknar behind, heading east toward the edge of the Ramei Mountains, following the winding path beside a branch of the Orein River—toward an uncertain destiny, beneath storm clouds that began to gather in the sky.
