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Finally after many days of traveling in armor, covered in dirt, he could take a bath inside his own room. With his eyes closed he leaned his head back, letting the calming and relaxing feeling of warm water wash over his body. A sigh of relieve left his mouth without intention as he opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling. It has been a while since he took a bath in this room, in his old room.

The stone on the ceiling was whitewashed, covering the cold grey stone with a more pleasant white color. A simple chandelier hang from the ceiling, all the candles lit, filling the room in a gloomy light. Henry turned his head to the side, spotting more candles sitting on sconces that were attached to the wall.

Just like the ceiling all four walls of the room had been whitewashed. The two windows in the wall in front of him had their shutters closed, making the candles his only source of light. The wall there was thicker than the others, just in case someone were actually attacking from the channel the windows were facing. From his point of view the door was in the left corner, made of dark wood that had engravings all over the doorway, ancient symbols of his forefather that have lost meaning over the centuries. Right behind him his large bed stood at the wall, close enough for his head to touch the front side of it if he leaned back too far. Right next to his bed stood a drawer on which a single candle stood.

His eyes looked around his room a bit more, lifting his head to get a better look. A shelf full of books, some of which he still remembered to have read in his youth, stood in the right corner of the room. Next to the shelf was a stand for his armor that was currently mostly empty because some parts were getting a dent fix by the blacksmith at the moment. A simple chest stood next to the door, filled with the few things he took with him from the order.

His eyes continued to gaze around the room, until his gaze fell upon a painting on the wall to his right side, a painting that held many bad and good memories to it, but all things that happened in the past considered, even the good ones hurt. The painting showed his whole family a few years ago, the day Henry joined the order. He saw Elise, holding the little William in her arms, standing next to him. His father stood in the middle of the painting, next to his mother, his uncle and his older brother.

Just seeing their faces looking at him with warm smiles hurt him deeply. Every person in that painting, expect him and his uncle, were either missing or dead. He looked at his father, proudly standing there, sporting the same hair and the same eyes as him. His mother meanwhile had green brown eyes and long hair in a similar color. But their appearances mattered little now, they were both dead. He could still remember that day clearly, like it happened just a few days ago.

He was currently on campaign with his brothers and his blood-brother as they received the news. His father had died on an illness that has been plaguing him for years. His mother was found in his bed with her wrist cut open. It seemed she wanted to die alongside him.

Henry glared at his brother, his bright orange eyes almost appeared to be golden like dragon eyes, much like his own. Those just somehow ran in the family. His hair was bound just like Henry´s, its color a mix of blonde and brown. His parents were both dead, but his brother, his brother was a different story entirely...

His thoughts were interrupted by two knocks on the door. "My lord, your uncle asks you to hurry up. He says important matters need to be discussed."

Henry let out an annoyed sigh, looking at the door as he answered. "Alright, tell him I´ll be there soon."

"As you wish, my lord. I will tell him." Said the servant before he could hear footsteps outside his room moving away from the door.

With a groan Henry slowly rose out of the warm water, stretching his muscles once he was standing. His shoulders and his hips were still sore from all the time he had to carry his armor. He stepped out of the water and rubbed himself dry with a piece of cloth. As he stood dried and naked in front of his bed he saw the clothing the servants had readied for him.

A long black woolen gambeson laid next to a white shirt, both folded and perfectly clean. White underwear and dark brown trousers were presented on the bed as well, next to those a pair of new looking leather boots. First he got into the undergarments, the white shirt and the underwear, before he put on the gambeson and the trousers. At last he put on the leather boots, fitting him perfectly to his surprise.

He stepped towards the tub full of water before he left, checking his face before he would leave. While the servants warmed up his bath others took care of his hair and his beard. Both his hair and his beard were groomed now, just like he wanted. The last thing he did before he left was to bound hair on top of his head and on the sides to a ponytail, leaving the hair at the back hanging loosely. A last look went on the painting as he was about to open the door, his eyes wandering towards his brother, who he got the idea for that hairstyle from. "Oh brother..."

He turned his head away and opened the door, stepping out into the hallway, looking to his right and his left. To his right the hallway ended with a wall, but to his left the hallway went on and led into the great entrance hall. Right on the opposite side of his room was another door that led to the room of his uncle, or so he thought because that was the room his father and mother were sleeping in when his father was lord.

Walls have been whitewashed once more, but this time there were also been adorned with various paintings. At the end of the hallway stood a suit of plate armor, decorated with gold and silver. Banners resembling the colors of his family hang at the wall. A candle sat on a sconce between two banners each, bathing the hallway in the same gloomy light his room had. The ground has been covered with a red carpet, hiding the cold stone underneath.

Knowing where his uncle would be he made his way towards the dining room that was the council room at the same time. When he was almost there he could look down into the entrance hall from the raised position he was standing on, elevating the beginning of the hallway up to the second floor. Once he stood in front of the two fairly big wooden doors he pushed them open.

Uncle Rodric turned towards him immediately, turning his back to the other two men he was talking to. His uncle put on a warm smile and spread out his arms, gesturing towards the chairs at the table that stood in the middle of the room. "Ah, Henry finally. Here have a seat, you too, your lordships."

Henry gazed around the rather large room. It was the only room in the keep that was not whitewashed and instead painted in a light blue, apart from the ceiling that was whitewashed. At the end of the room stood a cozy fireplace that was the only source of light at the moment. Paintings on the wall were directly painted on the wall, its frame also painted around it.

Once he sat down he spotted something laying curled up in the far right corner, next to the fireplace. That something was Alvahroth, sleeping. He chuckled slightly at the sight. What a lazy dragon, much like Cyrvanyx. He could not help but wonder how much he must have struggled to squeeze through the doors this time.

The other two men and his uncle sat down as well, the two lords sitting down on either side of the table while his uncle sat down in the lord´s chair at the end of the table, opposite of Henry´s seat. The two lords that sat at the table with him were both men he recognized. One of them was lord Sigeric, wearing a brown woolen tunic and black breeches, matching with his back hair and eyes.

The other one was called lord Marcas of Bealadair, also known as "the bear". Why he was called that could be seen immediately, since that beast of a man stood almost 8 feet tall. His hair was a fiery red, like his beard that was reaching all the way down to his chest. Around his torso he was wearing a blood red sash that was connected to the kilt he was wearing. He was one of the only noble families in Albia that still wore those as in the old traditions, even though Marcas wore brown loose trousers underneath.

"So," Lord Rodric began, clearing his throat before he would move on. "The four of us who are here today of course won´t be everyone. Seven more lords are on their way here and should arrive very soon. Their bringing only a couple of warriors with them, like you two have." He gestured towards the two lordships. "I assume you remember who they are Henry, right?"

He nodded, smiling at both of the lords. "Yes, I do, how could I forget such good friends to our family, especially if one of them is such a giant." They both bowed their heads, Lord Sigeric also giving a small smile in response to his own.

"We have already heard what happened at the order." Lord Sigeric said with a soft voice. "You have my sincere condolences." He bowed his head again. "And I can´t help but wonder how you managed to survive that... horrible slaughter... and brought this one here." He pointed towards the sleeping dragon in the corner, still looking at Henry with a questioning look.

"Well... the dragon and I first met when I saved him-"

"Helped him!" A loud voice coming from the right corner slightly startled him. Alvahroth glared at him with one eye opened.

"Oh, so you are not asleep?" Henry cocked his head to the side. "And I did save you. Without me, you wouldn´t be here right now and instead be imprisoned somewhere."

Alvahroth glared at him for a while longer before closing his one opened eye again. Seemed like he was too sleepy to talk back at the moment, or he just did not care anymore.

"So... let´s just say we helped each other and now we´re both here." Henry told lord Sigeric.

Sigeric scratched his chin as silence filled the room, so that only the crackling of the fire could be heard. This is all good and fine." The deep voice of Lord Marcas broke the silence. "But is he our ally now?" He turned his head towards the dragon. "Will he fight alongside our forces in upcoming battles?"

Alvahroth opened both of his eyes, glaring at Marcas with his piercing gaze. "...maybe." He uttered barely hearable before closing his eyes once again.

"Maybe?" Marcas shook his head. "Is that all you have to-"

"Enough, my lord." Rodric lifted one hand and silenced him immediately. It seemed like Lord Rodric was the leader in all this, for the time being at least. "We can discuss these matters later. I have called you here for another reason." He cleared his throat. "First of all you will not tell anyone that this man over there is my nephew nor that his name is Henry, understood?"

The two lords nodded, Marcas opening his mouth to ask why, but Rodric spoke before he could even begin. "This is because everyone believes that he is dead and it be better it stays like that, even if only for a while or we might have enemies knocking on our door far earlier than we planned in order to kill the last knight of the dragon." He looked at Marcas, leaning towards him. "Does that make sense to you, my lord?"

He slowly nodded, leaning back into his chair. Henry could feel a bit of tension between those two, though he did not know why.

"Anyway, there was something else." His uncle leaning forward on the table, putting his weight on his arms. "This morning a messenger arrived bringing news that could change...everything. Even if-"

His sentence was cut short as the door was swung open by a guard who stepped into the room, almost dropping to his knees in exhaustion. Everyone turned towards him. Even Alvahroth rose his head from the ground, staring at the man in confusion. "Lord Rodric!" The guard said in between heavy breaths. "Unknown ships... on the channel... coming here... from the north..."

"What?" Rodric jumped up from his chair. "What symbol was on their sails?"

"A... a white wolf..."

He sighed in relief. "By the gods, calm yourself lad. Those men are our reinforcements from the north." He walked past the table and towards the door. "You can all wait here, I´ll be back with them shortly."

Henry looked at him as he was about to leave the room with his brow frowned. What were the northerners doing in Albia? He knew of that Albia had an alliance with king Horik, but he never knew that they were sending troops to help them in this war against Ulric. "Hold on, uncle." He turned around with his chair. "Who are these people that came to help us? And why do they only arrive now?"

"Get up." His uncle said. "Follow me and I´ll tell you on the way."

Without thinking about it a second time Henry stood up and followed his uncle out of the room. Rodric ordered two guards outside the room to follow them both. When they began to make their way down the stairs he began to speak. "The man we are about to meet is Earl Hjalmar Einarsson. He is one of the greatest warriors the north has to offer. King Horik was as you know allied with king Aerdur..." They reached the end of the staircase, walking towards the great doors that marked the exit.

"I doubt they even know that the king is dead, but they maybe heard that on their way here already. I can only hope that the amount of men they brought will be enough..." The guards opened the great doors, letting the sun shine into the hall, making Henry blink a couple of times as he had to get used to the bright sunlight again.

The archers on the wall seemed a little tense as their were watching the men on the boats disembarking. It was to be expected, since northmen tend to have a bad reputation, mostly thanks to their ancestors. Raiders and savages, that was what they once were, or so it was said. But the norse people have changed long ago, otherwise an alliance would have been out of question.

Albia and the north have been trading partners for almost a century, but never before had one helped the other in times of war. It was the first time that northern armies set foot on Albien land. Henry and his uncle just passed the inner gatehouse, both their eyes focused on the closed outer gatehouse. The earl and some of his men were already standing on their doorstep. Rodric shouted out to the gatewatch, ordering them to open the gates.

The gates opened after a while, letting in the small group of northerners. They were 7 in total, but the army was of course still outside, getting everything off the ships. These men looked almost just like Henry imagined them to look like, bearded with long hair, but not nearly as filthy and un groomed as old tales suggested. All of them wore woolen tunics, some of which appeared to be some kind of gambeson, colored in green, blue and brown. Two of them were clearly the leaders of the group. The one who appeared to be older than the other had long blonde hair, reaching over his shoulders. His beard was almost as long as his hair and was decorated with small pearls. That was probably the earl, Hjalmar Einarsson, and the other one could be his son.

His hair and his beard were not nearly as long as his fathers and was a mix of red and brown in color instead of blonde. His deep blue piercing gaze fell upon Henry as he and his uncle stood near the inner gatehouse to greet the northmen.

Rodric and earl Hjalmar locked eyes as they both stood in front of each other. "Earl Hjalmar Einarsson." He said rather emotionless and gave a small bow.

"Lord Rodric..." He said as he looked his uncle over, an obvious accent in his voice. "You´ve grown old."

Lord Rodric shrugged and pointed towards Hjalmar, tilting his head slightly to the side as if he was saying "so have you". They looked at each other for a moment longer without saying a word before they both broke into laughter and hugged each other, Rodric patting him on his back as he did. "Ah... it´s been far too long my friend." Rodric said as he loosened the hug and took a step back.

"Aye, far too long." He laughed, looking around the courtyard. "Last time it was on me to show you my homeland, now I can´t wait for you to show me yours."

Henry watched the scene, a bit baffled from what he had just seen. He had no idea that his uncle was ever in the north, nor did he know that he was friends with an earl. Well, the more you know.

"Oh, and this is my son, Ragnar." He gestured towards the younger man standing beside him who was smiling at Rodric. "I doubt you recognized him, eh? Last time you saw him he was but a wee boy." Hjalmar shook a little as he laughed. "He has become a man in all these years."

"Yes, so I see." He looked Ragnar over, smiling all the while. "Come then, my old friend." He spread out his arms towards the northmen. "Welcome in Moudeir Castle. Why don´t you two follow me? The servants will show your guards where they can rest." The two northmen followed him and Henry without second thoughts as the rest of their little group was led to their own quarters that have been prepared for them. "You must be tired after such a long journey, are you not?"

Hjalmar shook his head and chuckled a bit. "Me and tired after sitting in a boat for two weeks?" He spread out his arms and pointed at himself, playing insulted. "Who do you take me for, huh? Do I look that old to you?"

"Haha, was just asking."

"Oh, speaking of asking." the earl turned towards Henry. "Who is this?"

Henry blinked a few times as he was suddenly questioned by earl Hjalmar after being lost in his thoughts for the last few minutes. He turned his head towards the earl, not knowing if he should just say his name or make something up. Uncle Rodric said that his name should not be known by many people. Then again, his uncle seemed to know that Hjalmar very well, so he might be trustworthy.

"I´ll tell you once we´re inside." Rodric whispered to him and Ragnar before he could think of an answer himself.

They continued onwards, his uncle and Hjalmar sharing laughs and memories with each other while he and Ragnar stayed quiet. It seemed like that Ragnar liked to keep his thoughts to himself, much like he himself often did. It did not take them long to reach the keep and enter the great hall. As soon as they were inside his uncle went on and on about ancestry and great stories of great heroes in great times that were long since over.

Up the stairs they went and into the room after the guards opened the doors. Lord Marcas and lord Sigeric were still sitting where they sat as he and his uncle left, both their gazes falling on the northmen as they entered. Hjalmar looked around the room, his eyes shining with joy. "Very... astonishing art. Very fascinating stonewo-" He froze in place as his eyes fell on the curled up pile of scales that was Alvahroth in the corner. Ragnar saw him too, his hand instinctively flying towards the handle of his sword, but leaving it as soon as he remembered where he was. "By the gods..."

Hjalmar looked at the green dragon in awe, his mouth agape and his eyes wide. Ragnar meanwhile was not shocked, just purely fascinated. "Ah, yes of course. You´ve never seen a dragon before." Rodric chuckled and pointed at the two lords "Lord Marcas, Lord Sigeric. This is earl Hjalmar Einarsson. And this is his son, Ragnar." They both bowed their heads as greeting. "Sit down."

Henry followed the orders of his uncle and sat down in the same chair he sat in before. The northerners meanwhile sat down near lord Rodric, still eying the dragon in the corner. "He´s on our side, right?" Hjalmar asked with just a small hint of fear in his voice.

"Do I look chained or dead to you, northman?" Alvahroth raised his head from the ground, suddenly towering above the earl as he stretched his neck as far as he could. "If I don´t, then I guess your question is answered."

Earl Hjalmar looked into the dragon´s menacing gaze, chuckling in disbelieve. "Incredible... if your teeth and claws don´t already manage..." He shook his head, laughing to himself as he looked the dragon over. "...then your booming voice will be enough to make even the stongest enemy piss themselves on the battlefield, haha!" Alvahroth and the lords chuckled at the earl´s comment, but stopped as lord Rodric raised his arm.

"We have time for this later. For now there are two important things to tell you all..." He gazed around all the faces, waiting for all of them to listen to him carefully. "Alright, first thing goes mostly for our northern friends. This man over there is my nephew," He pointed at Henry. "his name is Henry. He is the last survivor of the battle at Dragonstone Castle. You will, and this is for all of you, never call him by name in the open. You will only call him..." Uncle Rodric put on a grin as he looked at him. "Dragoneye, understood?" Everyone nodded in agreement.

"Now to the thing I wanted to tell you before." He stood up and leaned forward, resting his weight on his arms. "You two know of the kings death, right?" Both northmen nodded. "Good. The day Alcester fell everyone knew that the king and his entire family died..." He began to smile. "Or so we thought..."

Henry began to straighten his back in his seat, frowning his brow as he glared at his uncle in confusion. "What do you mean, Rodric?" Marcas said, just as confused as Henry. "Are you-"

"I was not done yet." He lifted a hand, silencing him. "It may seem unbelievable, but... our reports clearly suggests this." Rodric leaned forward a bit further. "Our spies have been very active and very productive. No military secrets were revealed, but something else..."

"Get to the point, uncle." Spoke Henry.

Rodric´s gaze intensified as he glared at his nephew. For a moment the whole room was bathed in silence, everyone looked at lord Rodric in anticipation until he finally spoke up. "The king´s children live."

Henry´s eyes went wide. What did he just say? The king´s children, the heirs to the throne of Albia, were alive? He could make out how lord Sigeric and lord Marcas said something, but he was too lost in his thoughts to listen to them. Only when he heard his uncle´s voice did he listen again.

"We do not know where they are. Which means, luckily Ulric doesn´t know either. These news have already begun to spread around the land like wildfire. Even though we don´t know where they are, we know for sure right now that prince Aethur and the princess Alina are alive, hiding somewhere. We must find them at all costs, before Ulric´s mongrels do it first..."

After he heard that, Henry was lost in his thoughts once more. Not because of shock. but because a realization hit him. Prince Aethur and princess Alina were both hiding from Ulric´s men and waiting to be found by allies of their father. But who would be able to find them before Ulric´s men do?

He knew for sure, that he was that someone. After the day he woke up at the order, after the battle, he wondered what his purpose was, why he was still alive while his family was gone. Maybe that was his purpose? Maybe that was why the gods let him live while all those he loved died without him.

"Uncle." Henry called out in all of a sudden, silencing Rodric. "Are the spies actively looking for them?"

"Well yes, of course." Lord Rodric chuckled, the others in the room all looking towards Henry. "But for now we don´t know where they are, not even a clue where we might-"

"Then let me look for them!" With confidence in his voice Henry cut his uncle´s sentence short again. "Since... since the day I woke up surrounded by dead bodies of my brothers I wonder what my purpose is." He made a short pause, taking a deep breath while Rodric glared at him. "But if the kings family still lives I... I may yet have a purpose here."

While glaring at his nephew lord Rodric straightened his back, sighing as he shook his head. "Henry you cannot do that. You are the only living heir to our house. If you die out there, traveling the land all on your own our blood will die out." His glare intensified. "And if you have any respect for our legacy you will stay."

"I can´t stay here and just wait, uncle." Standing up from his chair just like his uncle Rodric, he went on. "Our so called spies cannot be trusted and they are not up for a task such as this one. I can´t simply ignore this..." He leaned forward, glaring at his uncle. "I know that this is my destiny, uncle. You cannot deny me of-"

"Henry!" Rodric shouted, making him flinch a little. "It is not your mission to find them! You must live for the sake of our house! I swore to your father that I will protect you if I need to! I will not let you throw your live away like-"

"My live ended the day the order fell!" Louder than his uncle he yelled into the room, his voice making even Alvahroth lowering his ears. "I lost everything! My companion is dead, all my sword brothers are dead, my wife is dead, my son is dead! Death is the last thing I care about right now! The only reason I didn´t just end my suffering the day I woke up surrounded by corpses was my will to save Albia! And this is my chance to do just that!"

They all looked at him totally baffled, even the dragon, as a single tear ran down Henry´s cheek. "Henry..." Rodric´s voice was shook by what he just heard, but still filled with authority. "As your lord and as the man responsible for you after your father´s passing I command you to stay!"

Henry sniffed once, glaring at his uncle with a bit of anger and sorrow in his eyes. "No..." He took a step back from the table, shaking his head. "You might be the lord here... but you´ll never replace my father..." Before his uncle had a chance to answer he went out of the room, shoving the guards away as they tried to stop him.

He stormed out of the room, aiming directly for his own room. This decision might seem too quick and stupid to his uncle, but not to him. For him it was totally clear what he had to do, and that was not sitting around in a castle, waiting for winter to go by so he could take part in future battle with no chance of victory.

He knew Albia well, he could find them, he had to.

In order to save the royal bloodline.

In order to save Albia.