Aquila landed in a huge courtyard full of lush green grass and flowers of every colour imaginable. It was the perfect prelude to the impressive palace that overlooked it, with picnickers lounging on the lawns and soaking up the summer heat. The palace itself was colossal, built to four square tiers of yellow sandstone, with arched windows aplenty. On the parapet of the first tier, archers in green cloaks watched over the grounds below.

As soon as Aquila was noticed by those in the courtyard, a swell of noise arose and a crowd began to amass. Aquila took flight again, leaving Oracus, Garrin and Bandor to fend for themselves, so they quickly marched to the shallow palace steps before the congregation could gather too much momentum. At the top of the steps, two soldiers with spears guarded the heavy oak door, but they stood aside as they were approached. The door swung inwards and offered Oracus, Garrin and Bandor passage inside. What awaited them took Oracus’s breath away.

A huge entrance hall with a dozen carved pillars was decorated with fancy green and gold banners. In the centre of the high ceiling, a heavy glass chandelier dangled unlit given the sunlight beaming through the many windows. On the opposite side of the hall, two grand mahogany staircases curved up to a balcony that overlooked the foyer. On the balcony, and all around the walls within the hall, doorways led to other areas of the palace.

There was so much to take in that Oracus was passing through another oak door before he'd had chance to see everything. But if he thought the entrance hall was grandiose, then it was nothing compared to the grand hall that followed. In the grand hall, the walls were decorated with the same green and gold banners, and another thirty or more columns held up a ceiling that was even higher than that in the foyer. The floor beneath a dozen long feast tables was of cobbled grey stone that was dressed in a royal green rug that ran the whole length of the room. And in niches all around the walls, marble soldiers with their weapons drawn posed impressively on white podiums.

Garrin led Oracus and Bandor to the far side of the hall, where a large man wearing armour and a golden cloak was sat in a throne. Beside the throne, a Lavorian far larger than any creature Oracus had seen before lay with its eyes closed; it was so still it could have passed for a huge pile of silver coins.

“Welcome, guests!” the man bellowed so loudly that his voice ricocheted off the walls. He stood from his throne and bounded towards them, the green gems in his chestplate shining brightly in the light. “Welcome to my city!”

“This is Torvanon,” Garrin said quietly to Oracus as the man approached.

Torvanon seemed to get bigger the closer he came. He was about the size of Karvan, the fight trainer from Thessley, with broad shoulders and a barrel chest, both accentuated by his thick armour. The hair on his head and face was as orange as you’ll see, and his red face was full of joy.

Oracus held out a hand to greet Torvanon, but his hand was swatted away and he was grasped in a hug that lifted him off his feet.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Oracus,” Torvanon said. “And to meet you too…” He looked down at the Lion in Oracus’s harness, and then to Oracus for assistance.

“Bandor,” Oracus clarified.

“… Bandor!” Torvanon finished. And with a gentle hand for such a big man, patted Bandor on the head. “I’m sorry you had to leave your village in such a hurry,” Torvanon went on. “And I’m especially sorry that you lost your father. I trust you’ve had time to mourn?”

Oracus nodded his head meekly. “Thank you for letting us stay here,” he said.

Torvanon waved his hands dismissively. “The pleasure is all mine. Here, come and meet Ursus. He’s much softer than he appears, please don’t be intimidated.”

The giant pile of silver beside the throne stirred and rose to its feet. Oracus gulped as he looked up at a Bear Lavorian about three times his height, with a head as large as a cart. All over its body, the silver metal armour was of fur just like Bandor’s, but its claws were all like curved swords that scratched against the stone floor. The Bear just planting its feet beneath itself made the whole room tremble.

Ursus opened his mouth and spoke in a voice as deep as you’d expect from a creature his size, “Welcome to Afarra,” he said.

Oracus just gaped at the Lavorian and struggled to speak. He was glad Ursus didn’t give hugs to newcomers like his Rider did.

Torvanon took to his throne again, and Ursus dropped back onto his belly and rested his colossal head on his paws. Oracus thought he heard the floor crack.

“It’s been many years since there have been three Lavorians in this city,” Torvanon said happily. “It makes me feel young again.”

Oracus watched Torvanon closely and considered his age. “You don’t look particularly old though,” he observed.

Torvanon appeared amused. “Being a Rider keeps me looking young. Trust me, I am much older than you think.” He clasped his fingers together and leaned forwards. “Anyway, Oracus, let’s cut to the chase. Tell me how you and Bandor first met.”

The question took Oracus aback. When Garrin had suggested meeting the leader of Afarra, he hadn’t expected it to be someone like Torvanon. He had prepared himself for someone very serious and insensitive, not a man so friendly and courteous. “Well, I was taking a walk in the forest at night,” he started. Then he went on to explain how the forest had felt unusually eerie, how the rock had fallen from the sky, and how he had carried Bandor back to Thessley during a thunderstorm. He told Torvanon how he’d found soldiers in the forest the following day whilst hunting, and how Garrin and Aquila had saved his life. “And then they brought Bandor and I back here,” he ended.

“Coincidentally, I bonded with Ursus during a stormy night in the Raspian Forest too,” Torvanon claimed. He appeared to reminisce for a moment and the corners of his mouth twitched behind his auburn beard. “We’ve been companions for almost sixty years. He was Bandor's size at first. I could pick him up and we would sleep in the same bed together. Oh, how things change – now he would squash me by sitting on me!”

“Sixty years?” Oracus repeated. “How is that possible? You look no older than fifty!”

Torvanon laughed this time. “As I said before, I do not age. Riders don’t! Many years ago, before war ruined this land, there were Riders who were hundreds of years old, and their Lavorians were far larger than you would dare to imagine.”

“So the three of us will never die?” Oracus said.

“Not unless we are killed,” Torvanon replied with a nonchalant shrug.

Oracus wasn’t sure he liked the idea of living forever, and he decided not to think about it. “What happened to those Riders and Lavorians?” he asked instead. “Did they die during the war?”

“The infamous Noble War,” Torvanon said with a sigh. “It all happened long before even I was born. Every Rider was killed in that war, and every Lavorian destroyed. And still to this day we don’t know how or why.”

Oracus was suddenly reminded of how little he knew about Pharia and its history. Since he had been forced to leave Thessley, he had been bombarded with new information and experiences, and he was feeling increasingly overwhelmed.

“But Riders and Lavorians are back, and we have another war to prepare for,” Torvanon said.

“A war against King Jowra?” Oracus asked, thinking back to Elnir’s story in the Old Mill Inn.

Torvanon gave him a sharp look. “You know of Jowra?”

“I only heard about him recently,” Oracus replied. “Nobody really knew anything about this land back in Thessley.”

Garrin shuffled uncomfortably beside Oracus and looked up at the ceiling.

“Well, King Jowra is indeed who we are going to war against,” Torvanon clarified. “He’s somewhat of a dictator.”

“Why are you intent on fighting him and not joining him?” Oracus asked.

“Because I believe there is a balance that should be maintained within Pharia. After the Noble War, when Riders and Lavorians were gone, every race in the land united. For years, the balance was kept intact. But fast-forward two centuries to when the Riders and Lavorians returned, and suddenly there’s power to be gained and the balance is inevitably lost.” Torvanon’s red face had sagged into a scowl. “Jowra is a man seeking power. He’s attempting to control all Pharia’s realms to stop anyone from challenging his reign. He wants to be King forever.”

“But even with Jowra dead, there will still be Riders and Lavorians here to seek power,” Oracus argued. “Or do you plan to kill them all?”

“Jowra believes being a Rider gives him the right to control the land,” Torvanon explained. “But if we win this war, I would ensure we use our power to protect Pharia, not to dominate the many people who live here.”

Oracus had already felt the effects of Jowra’s rule when his father had died, so he was all for the King being stopped. But Torvanon was speaking to him like he would have some influence in Jowra’s downfall. He was just a young man from a small village who happened to find a Lavorian in the forest. It had only been a week ago that four soldiers had almost killed him in a field. “I don’t really know what you expect of me though,” he aired.

“Killing Jowra before he kills us is the only way to stop him,” Torvanon said. “An extra Rider will help us achieve that, and it will boost the morale of the soldiers. You’ve already seen how the people in the city react to you.”

“You don’t expect me to fight in this war, do you?”

“Not today. But you’ll be ready when your training is complete. You may just be the difference between victory and failure.”

“Training?” Oracus blurted. “What training?”

“There’s no way you’d be capable of killing Jowra without training to be an effective Rider,” Torvanon said. “He’s the strongest Rider in the land. I’m not sure it’s possible to kill him even with training!”

Oracus was beginning to get a familiar feeling of dread. When he had listened to Elnir’s story he had felt a similar emotion. People talked about Jowra in a way that made him feel uneasy; it left a strange taste in his mouth.

“Honestly, Oracus, it’s a pleasure to have you here in Afarra!” Torvanon clapped his hands together and stood up from his throne. “There has been a vacant room here in the palace since you arrived. I understand you haven’t used it yet. I’m sure Garrin will happily lead you to it now. Do you have any questions before you leave?”

Oracus was wondering how he had found himself in such a predicament. But he was so bemused he just shook his head at Torvanon. In the last hour, he had been drawn into a war that he knew nothing about, except that it would probably end up killing him.

“You’d better get some rest,” Torvanon said as he clasped Oracus in another rib-cracking hug. “Your training begins tomorrow. And it will be tough. Very tough!”