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The following interview was conducted for historical purposes by Selandre, Scribe of Casadia.
“Why do they call him the Dragon?” I asked.
Ekovu laughed. “Now there is a question that will take a while to answer.”
“It is not like I lack the time. Recording Casadian history is my job after all.” I responded, pouring more wine into his cup.
“Well, where to begin… I suppose the story would start twelve years ago. He was a young man then. Smart, ambitious, well thought of by his superiors. He was the kind of man who was on the path to leadership. He was a good enough swordsman and commander to warrant a military promotion, but the Guardian at the time recognized his mental prowess. So he was made a diplomat, the youngest we had had in quite some time. He did well in his new position, but the dull politics of the old world were not enough for him. “
“That is when they sent him to New Mercuria?” I inquired, refilling my own cup with wine.
“Aye. Vendarrion, the Guardian of Casadia at the time, was concerned with the stagnation of the Casadian Protectorate. He wanted to send someone he could trust to light a fire in Vikhon. Someone that could replace him if things did not improve.”
“He would have become Guardian of the Protectorate?”
“Indeed. Vikhon would have been retired to an advisory position, and he would have assumed leadership the Protectorate in his stead.” Ekovu answered, taking a measured sip of his wine.
“So he left for the Protectorate…”
“Aye, but he left his wife behind. She had just become pregnant with their first child, and the journey would have been far too arduous. Not as easy as it is today. So he left her behind. Neither of them took it well. They loved each other dearly, and the coincidence with her pregnancy only made it worse.”
“What of his time in the Protectorate? Obviously he did not come to replace Vikhon.”
“He learned a lot in his five years in the Protectorate. Once it became clear that he would not be replacing Vikhon, he decided to use it as an opportunity to learn as much as he could about being a Guardian. He was a good soldier and a fine diplomat when he arrived, but he left with what it took to be a truly great leader.”
“I suppose he was happy to return home?” I asked.
“Of course. It had been five years since he had seen his wife. He was in the first group to depart from Concordia to the old world. From what I heard, he was the first member of the party to set foot in Casadia. Of course, he did not stay long in Casad Vokh. We had been having trouble with some nomadic groups that had taken over the Orcish islands. They had gotten their hands on some Orcish armor and weapons, and had proven to be quite the nuisance”, Ekovu sighed as he poured himself more wine, “They would come south across the channel and raid farms on the northern shore. I was stationed in Teleros then, not Guardian of Teleros yet, but one of its trusted captains. He was put at the head of a few dozen men sent to bolster our strength. He brought his wife and daughter along too.”
“Would they not have been in danger in Teleros, seeing as it is so close to the northern shore?”
“They had never attacked Teleros itself. It would have been a massacre. They were smart enough to keep to the farms. Well, I should say most of them were smart enough to stay well enough away from Teleros.”
“Bograsmer’s sons…” I said, familiar with this part of the story.
“Aye. Bograsmer was the leader of the nomads. Mountain of a man, and his sons were not much different. He had eight of them, and they were utterly ruthless. They would leave the heads of those they killed on spikes. They wanted us to see the faces of those we failed. When we found the bodies, many of them showed signs of rape.” Ekovu grasped his cup so hard I feared it would shatter.
“Do we know why they were so ruthless?”
“Something about Casadia being some hallowed land that was inhabited by their ancestors. Bograsmer was some kind of god-king that was supposed to lead them to this land. When they found us there, ‘defiling it’, they were less than pleased.”
“What happened next?”
“He had only been in Teleros for a month or so when it happened. None of the raiders had ever come close to Teleros before, but Bograsmer’s sons decided to test their luck. There must have been a hole in our patrols, as they made it to the main road. That is where they found her. She was out picking flowers for her daughter. If there are gods, then they are cruel. He should not have been the first to find her.”
“They…”
“Aye,” said Ekovu, not wanting to hear me finish my sentence, “It broke him. He would just sit there and stare into space. No tears, no words, just an empty stare. We sent him back to Casad Vokh after it became clear that he was in no condition to fight. I thought that would be the end of him. We dared not tell his daughter, she was too young to understand what had happened. We made sure that she was in good hands in Casad Vokh.”
“Did you ever think you would see him again?” I asked.
“No. When he came riding back to Teleros with a letter from Vendarrion, I thought I was in a dream. He looked different. He was not a young man anymore. “
“What did the letter say?”
“They were orders to negotiate for peace with Bograsmer. It seemed that Vendarrion wanted to bring an end to the fighting.”
“Were the nomads willing to negotiate? It seems like they would have settled for nothing less than the total destruction of Casadia?”
“Bograsmer was no fool. He understood that he would never conquer all of Casadia. In all his years of raiding he had yet to take even Teleros. He knew that his people would die before the walls of Casad Vokh if he ever attacked it. Vendarrion hoped that he would settle for a portion of northern Casadia to end the violence. We sent a messenger to Bograsmer asking for him to treat with us, and he agreed.”
“The nomads have special rules for negotiating, correct?” I asked, remembering having read about it previously.
“Aye. A remnant of honor and equity before they became killers and rapists. Each negotiating party had to be of equal number. If a fight broke out, at least if would be fair. We knew of this custom, and Vendarrion reminded us of this in the letter. He requested that eight of the nomads meet us on the northern shore. “
“Bograsmer’s eight sons…”
“He asked me to be one of the seven he took with him. He knew that I was level-headed and a good sword. The other six were quality men as well. All of them good in a pinch. Anyway, Bograsmer agrees to send an envoy to meet us on the northern shore in three days.”
“He was expecting a fight.”
Ekovu laughed again. “Previous attempts at negotiation had not ended peacefully. We rode to the northern shore armed to the teeth. They were already there when we arrived, gathered around a fire. Sure enough, they were Bograsmer’s sons. As soon as I saw them I knew. This was not about peace. This was about revenge.”
“Vendarrion knew?”
“He had to have known. One of Casadia’s brightest had been broken. Maybe he thought it was the only way to bring him back to who he was.”
“I take it the negotiation did not last long?”
“No. There were no words of peace exchanged. He drew his sword and challenged them all. Of course, the nomads had some trace of honor left in them. They would fight him one at a time.”
“Him alone against all eight of them?” I asked, confused.
“Aye. One against eight. When I heard him challenge them, I was sure he was trying to kill himself. One of the sons matched steel with him almost immediately. The son looked twice the size of him and wielded a massive Orcish mace. I thought I was witnessing his final moments.”
“But he killed the son?”
“The mace was slow, much slower than he. When he slid his blade out of the first son’s chest, he pointed the bloody blade at the nearest son. The second one fell quickly. And the third. The fourth fought hard, but was overmatched. I had never seen a man fight like he did that day. He was relentless, clinical, like some kind of machine. There was no emotion or ferocity in it. He dealt with them as if he was cutting up chicken for supper. After the first four had fallen, the rest charged him all at once. I suppose anger overrode what little honor they had. We rushed to his side, but he ordered us to stand back. Those were the only words he said to us that day. He met all four of them, and I swear I will never forget what I saw. When he smote them, something strange happened. Their flesh began to smoke, their blood turning to steam. They lay in anguish as fire spread from their wounds and consumed them. It was as if his blade had become fire itself. Before long, the bodies of Bograsmer’s sons were naught but ash. He sheathed his sword and we followed him back to Teleros.”
“What happened next?”
“The death of his sons motivated Bograsmer to seek peace. I was there when Vendarrion negotiated the peace. Bograsmer was not a fearsome warrior anymore, but a broken man. Vendarrion granted them a few islands to the west and the nomads left. Their dreams of taking Casadia died with Bograsmer’s sons.”
“You forgot to tell him about my tattoo” said Aurennis, taking a seat beside Ekovu. Aurennis rolled up his sleeve to reveal an intricate tattoo of a dragon wrapped around his arm. The head of the dragon seemed to chase the tail, spewing a stream of fire along the length of its own body.
“The dragon that burns itself. A creature of fire battling against its own power. One of my favorite legends from the old books.” said Aurennis, pouring himself a cup of wine.
“Is it true what he said? That men burned at the touch of your blade?” I asked, anxious to hear from the man himself.
“There is only one creature that can turn flesh to fire and blood to steam:” Aurennis laughed, “A dragon.”
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Guardian of Casadia
Master of the Slayers Guild
Minister of Hermertian History
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