Dragon Realm Cypress

A still peace lingered over the city as dusk broke its magenta streaks across the skies. Soldiers marched through the streets alongside mages and Silent Ones, their presence meant to serve as a deterrent to any rebellious citizen, while a curfew kept the law-abiding ones indoors.

Wiccer observed the remnants of the once mighty Lost Dawns as Elucard argued with the last remaining other member of Ghost Foxes.

“Master, I don’t want to leave your side!” pleaded Kyzo.

Elucard shook his head, his hands placed on his hips, “This is not a request, I’m making this an order.”

Kyzo looked to Wiccer for help. “Captain, say I can sta-”

“You heard him, Haze. You take orders from him, not me.” Wiccer hid his grin. Kyzo Haze, loyal to the end.

“The mission has grown too dangerous for you, my student.” Elucard placed his hands on Kyzo’s shoulders. “I want you to stay with Legion until I return.”

Kyzo looked up to meet his master’s gaze. “And if you don’t return?”

Elucard glanced away. “Then Legion will oversee the rest of your training.”

Kyzo stepped back and bowed to his mentor. “It’s been an honor, Master.”

Elucard returned the bow, “Likewise, Kyzo. Now go!”

Kyzo broke into a sprint before leaping into a dive off the clocktower, vanishing like a shadow into the new night.

Elucard turned to Wiccer who stepped to the edge of the tower. “Let’s head to the Roots, we don’t want them waiting for too long.”

***

Though it never had the same attention or love as the rest of the city had, now more than ever, the Roots was a disaster area. The shanty town, once characterized by ramshackle houses and dank alleyways, was now even worse off, with abandoned buildings and charred foundations

dominating that part of Lost Dawns. Broken glass and rubble covered the narrow streets. Blackened remains of wagons and stalls dotted the rest of the landscape. The homeless no longer sought shelter in its alleys – those that did not escape the flames were now smoldering corpses by the roadside. The Roots were now a no man’s land, prime territory for conspirators to hold their meetings in the shadows.

“We thought you may have grown weak after the riots,” chuckled Inle. He watched as the two Ghost Foxes dropped from an overhanging tree root and landed onto the rooftop where he and the Collector waited. “But here you are.”

Wiccer stepped forward. “We did as you asked. The royal family is still reeling from our attack.”

A wide smile carved across the Collector’s face, “Tull did not die, but the city still fell. You did well my friends.”

“Then we are in?” asked Wiccer.

Inle pretended to count the heads of Wiccer and Elucard. “I could have sworn there were more of you…”

“They couldn’t stomach where this journey has brought us,” said Wiccer.

“And they were dealt with?”

“Yes,” lied Wiccer, “We are what’s left. Is that going to be a problem?”

“You wish an opportunity to join our inner circle? We shall provide that. We have a final task for you two. Continue to please us and you will be rewarded,” explained the Collector.

“More tasks?” Elucard threw up his hands in frustration. “At least grant us some good faith; what do we call this organization you belong to?”

“All will be explained in due time, my friends,” The Collector bowed and opened a shadow portal to his side, “My masked associate will contact you when we are ready for you.”

Inle bowed and followed the cat through the portal leaving Wiccer and Elucard alone in the Roots.