The Spires of Dasny

The intertwined mark of The Three has unwound, sending spirals of ribbons of Gold, Silver and Blue in different directions, separating Seyra, Grifton and Elky on their own journeys marked by the Stars above. For the first time since the three dragon riders came together, they'll each have to follow their paths alone.

Grifton struggles with his recent losses by leaving his newly chosen knights to be trained by Hu'gan as he seeks to lose himself as a hedge knight, fighting for kingdoms who need his talents, caring not if he survives or not... that is until he's seen the turmoil of expanding kingdoms, and worse yet, the disappearance of dragons.

Will he find his need to protect and serve The Kingdom of the Spires again? Or will he choose to oppose all that don't align with his cause?

Grifton took a lone, desolate journey. One where he hoped to purge his soul. Traveling not as the First Knight, but moreso as a hedge knight, serving in battles that echo his own convictions.

The map of the realms had enlarged, and with it all the feuding systems. Coming upon a fortress, he circled and landed with Athan behind the crumbling stone, near the towering oaks running behind the castle walls. Faded by countless days of sun and rain, torn green and gold pennons flap in the light breeze along crenelated walls.

He drew near the oak-and-iron door raised near two dragon lengths above him. Milling in the bailey, a palfrey sorrel with swayback was eating parched grass. A man-at-arms rapidly approached, a halberd in one hand and a shield in the other. Its sigil so worn; Grifton's eyes narrowed to discern the mighty oak with leaves of flaking green.

The man's eyes fixed on Grifton's shield, its sigil of the dark blue dragon made of metal, not paint. "Pray tell, who comes here and for what business?"

"I'm but a traveling knight, seeking rest, food, and news."

He pointed his halberd towards the shield in Grifton's hand. "What king do you serve?" His wary eyes darted back and forth.

"None come with me, if that is your concern. I serve the King of the Spires, King Dreyth, and his Queen, Seyra."
His chin puckered, causing a frown as he thought. "I have heard not of a King of the Spires. You travel alone, you say? Where is your horse? Surely you did not walk to come here."

"I left my destrier in the trees to rest and eat. What is this kingdom? Do you have need for a wandering knight?"

"This is the Kingdom of Dragmorth, the Mighty Oak. Knights we can use, but a lost and wandering small townsman, we have no need."

Grifton's brow raised in warning. "I come with good intentions to help where there is need, but do not anger me or my sword, as we are swift to correct such errors." Grifton raised the hand from his sword and splayed his fingers skyward, sending arcs of lightning sizzling above.

The noise of clashing armor hit as the knights clamored to get away before the thunder crashed around their fortress, leaving their mouths agape in fear.
"A sorcerer!" one exclaimed.
"A demon!" shouted another.
"Neither" answered Grifton, "but a most dangerous knight given the use of dragon magic to fell the foes of those who cannot protect themselves."

Mumbled words worked towards him and a blasphemy he could not ignore gurgled forth from one knight, stating there were no dragons in recent years. A smirk worked the corners of Grifton's lips.

At first, the pennons barely waved in the battlements, then a warm wind had them flapping their tattered edges as Athan breached the southern wall of the fortress, flaming overhead before landing at Grifton's side, hazel eyes full of embers.

The farthest knights scrambled and fled back towards the keep. The others fell where they stood, save for the man-at-arms, whose legs seemed affixed with quicksand. His mouth agape and his breaches soiled; he stammered the word dragon as if it were a mythic