Tarik watched the Neroliath captain making arrangements for cargo. He was still unsure if he would sell out to the highest bidder or if his soft spot for Karolus would win over. Pulling his hood up and robe tighter to him Tarik left the dock area and started making his way to the Suraquintarus Lake.

A youth spent running the rooftops of the city meant navigating was as easy as breathing. If not easier. Some nights it wasn’t worth the risk of closing one's eyes. 

Calvaria had taught Tarik that power was the only true goal for its people. They would sell the soul of their unborn children to rise above their neighbour. It was a harsh thought as he had met those that genuinely looked to better the city with the introductions of masterful engineering or a talented arcane practitioner. 

Main roads leading to long bridges connected the town districts of the island. Made of enchanted marble. Symbology of the noble houses would pattern each step. Depending on the noble that held claim to the area meant the symbols would often change from time to time. 

Rumours among the people were the enchanted roads were used to locate people and aid in their disappearance. Tarik knew that rumours were not only a powerful tool to take advantage of but not entirely untrue. 

If you knew how to look then the marbled roads could provide clues and Tarik had learnt to spot them. 

Magically illuminated stones were placed along the streets, bright oranges, purples and reds. As he passed they dimmed as if turning their back on him refusing to share the light with him. 

When it had first happened he had worried and investigated. These days he hardly noticed, at least not until he needed to.

Tarik handed over the silver to the wyrmling, a young Calvarian. Their scales had only just begun to bare the greens of the gemstone that ran through their blood. 

“Where to red eye?” the toothy grin and bright yellow eyes showed their mischievousness.

“Villa Taurusino, and keep the trip well mannered. You do and I have more silver for you.” Tarik climbed up into the cart. The array of cushions were comfortable and the cloth roof kept the sun from his face. It was the closest villa to the lake.

Immediately coming to attention and straightening their posture the wyrmling performed a low bow.

“Oh Noble of the Ruby Eye’d you are the fairest passenger to grace my humble cart and this city.” they bowed again. 

Tarik flicked another silver coin towards them. Their small scaled hand darted out, caught it and hid it away somewhere on their person in the blink of an eye. 

With a light tap of the stick in their hand against the large beast of burden the cart lurched forwards. The creature was double the size of a horse, thick leathery grey skin and a squashed face. Only in Calvaria had Tarik ever seen them.  

Moving across the outer bridges to the inner mainland took time. There were checkpoints to pass through and moments of waiting while a native of note or wealth required the road clearing for their entourage to pass by.

Tarik had spent most of his time avoiding the checkpoints. The guards upon them were corrupt and greedy. Best friends and worst enemies of those working the shadows. More coins always beat more coins.

It was evening before they made it across the last bridge. Cestus, the name they were using today, had talked about all the wonders of Calvaria, its mountain villas, rich plazas, floating mausoleums, and grand titanic statues of dragons and gemstones. A well practised tourist guide speech. 

Calvaria at night was supernaturally beautiful. Its arcane auras lit up the stars, when the moon was full its silver light was captured in crystal lenses that directed it at the massive domes made of different gems. The light would fracture and kiss the island city.

Depending on your location on the island one could see the glowing tops of the volcanoes towards the centre. Lakes of lava, it was said that the most powerful of the Samos and Tharros were baptised in the lava. Uldryds blessed.

Tarik lived in Calvaria since he was a child and it still impressed him. It was said to have been engineered this way, some said it was the dragons breathing magic upon the island, from the afterlife. However many stories were told, it didn't matter, it was a divine sight to behold.

“As promised Cestus.” Tarik handed a small purse to the wyrmling. 

“Most gracious Ruby Knight.” Cestus performed the last bow of the fare. 

Tarik allowed a smile as Cestus took their cart back the way they had come. The common people were not allowed beyond the Alexandrite Ward. 

Areas that could be cousins to the docks were built at the bridge ends. Small markets and drinking establishments could be found for those taking rest.

To the naked eye there was no barrier. But all knew it to be there, a transparent arcane warding both protected the royal and noble town beyond it and allowed those to gaze upon the grandeur of where the leaders of Calvaria resided.

An architecture that rivalled most of the known world lay beyond the Ward. Massive marble villas of two and sometimes three floors. Flora sprinkled with gem dust made for the most beautiful blooms, vibrant and intoxicating. 

Tarik stared up at what everyone stared at when they were this close. The royal town spread to the base of a mountain at its centre. Halfway up the mountain it looked as though the top of it had been cut off, a titan swinging a blade of unimaginable size cleaving it from the main body of the mountain was the tale.

This created a massive plateau upon which a Dragon skull sat. Known to all as the Palace of Crowns, the Dragon Throne, Uldryd’s Altar and no doubt more titles for the leader of Calvaria. 

The gargantuan skull looked to be shaped from a single gemstone, usually from the bloodline of the current leader. Right now it radiated a forest green emerald aura. A Tharros of incredible power, Tatiana, currently sits on Calvaria's seat of power. 

In his youth it had caused tears of awe in Tarik when he gazed upon it. Older now the awe was still present but the tears were dry. He knew too much for the stories to overwhelm a young imagination.

“Are you going to stare at it all night? Or join me for a drink Tarik of the Rook?” 

“Well met Sofi of the Bastion. A drink would be well received.” Tarik curtsied before his childhood friend.

She laughed out loud and grabbed him in a bear hug. Athletic and thick with muscle she put enough into the embrace to make Tarik gasp for air.

Sofi stood a foot taller and a shoulders width broader than the Nabbatan, her onyx scales shimmered and emerald eyes promised an eternity of arcane. The long black tunic patterned with silver glitter leaf, clung to her draconic form.

“I didn’t think you Vendari took a day off from wearing the iron.” Tarik said playfully. 

Sofi raised an eyebrow before the pair smiled and took a seat outside the Bridge End tavern. Etiquette was constant but never overwhelming. 

Folks only remained on this side of the bridges if they needed to. It was much more relaxing away from the prying eyes of the Alexandrite Guard.

With drink in front of them they both drained the first one without stopping and sat quietly for a moment. Staring at one another.

“How was the trip?” she asked with genuine curiosity.

“We were attacked.” he watched for any sign she was part of it.

“Yet hear you stand. Clearly no match for you.” small sarcasms couldn’t be helped between the two.

“By Narate.” Tarik let the word hang for a moment.

He saw her try very hard to feign surprise.

“The waters nearby do tend to be home to the lawless.” 

“Clearly.”

“Did you travel back alone?” she asked, trying to move past the discomfort she felt building. 

“I picked up a few that may be of use.”

“To you or I?”

Tarik shrugged his shoulders.

“Are we drinking as friends or enemies?” Sofi poured more wine into their cups.

“Is it ever not both.” he raised his cup and the pair tapped them together with an acknowledged nod from Sofi.

“How is the boy faring?” Tarik double checked to make sure no one was eavesdropping on their conversation. 

“And there I was thinking we were just catching up.” Sofi sat back in her chair with more effort than she meant, the wood creaked but supported. 

“Indeed.” Tarik stood.

“Connor is doing well. He is a quick learner. He will be a fine Vendari.” she responded after the pair shared a moment's silence.

“His brother is here. In Calvaria. Set on rescuing him.” Tarik studied her with every word.

“I thought he was dead.”

“Why would you think that?” Tarik believed her.

“It was reported so.”

“You are reported to now. Congratulations, you are doing well for yourself.” Tarik toasted with a cup of wine. 

He could see the frustration in her eyes. Sofi was loyal and in love with the idea of Calvaria. They had wandered its many gardens and he had listened to her speak of dragons returning to Colossus and how they could be part of it. 

“Why do you always have to provoke?” she exhaled slowly, calming herself.

“He won’t come quietly.” Tarik poured the last of the wine evenly between them.

“I am sure once Legatus Tiberius knows the brother is alive there will be preparations made to welcome him and reunite them.” Sofi said proudly.

“Yes, preparations.” Tarik failed to hide the scowl at the mention of Tiberius.

“More wine?” asked the rotund grey lizard holding a bottle with frost at its base.

Sofi and Tarik stared at one another for a breath then both accepted the offer of more. Silver was passed and they poured the ice cold plum liquid.

“Did you bring him here?” Sofi was restless in her seat.

“I did not.” Tarik knew what was coming.

“Then how?”

“There are people who do not like their lands being invaded and having their children taken.” he stated calmly.

The look that spread across her face told him she was about to smite him where he sat. He knew she saw it differently. 

Vendari were ironclad in their oaths to Calvaria. Everything they did was done with the blessing of the dragons or so their faith would have them believe.

“My apologies. My words were not meant to offend. The wine has clouded my mind.”

“Nothing clouds your mind Tarik. So do not take me for a soft heart.” the volume of her voice was more than she had planned, she stood and the table moved from her. 

Tarik readied himself for what might be a very dangerous fight. His confidence was easily matched by the divine weapon his friend had become. 

The people around them also sensed conflict between the pair and moved away. The Alexandrite Guard also reacted and knew who Sofi was and could deduce that Tarik was the favoured of the Rook. No other foreigner would be so bold.

He had forgotten how much space Sofi took up when she was angry. The area outside the tavern seemed to belong to her. No armour, no sword, no shield and still she stood the formidable presence. 

Tarik now had a sideways stance. His hands were relaxed. Unarmed combat was not Sofi’s area of expertise but it was his. If she came at him he would have to make sure he didn’t miss a beat. 

“Still working on that temper of yours I see.” he chanced a jest.

“Why are you here Tarik?” she asked through sharp gritted teeth.

“The food.”

Sofi lunged forwards her powerful arms swinging a haymaker. Despite Tarik being ready for it he still had to bring his forearms up to block and then allow himself to fall and roll to put distance between them.

The Guard drew weapons but Sofi’s raised hand told them to hold. 

“Do not get in the way, Tarik.” Sofi turned and headed away with pace. 

The meeting with an old friend had been quick and nothing but a test. Tarik knew coming here would cause food for thought. The Senators all had ambitious stakes in the coming ritual and not many cared for the House of the Rook, there was even less care for its protections over Tarik.

“As ever, Sofi of the Bastion, a pleasure.” he whispered to himself rubbing his forearms. He watched her walk away, the Guards gave her nods of salute as she passed.

Tarik walked by and along the road past the guards standing at two solo gate towers of white marble, a purple hue of light from an unknown source, seemingly built against nothing.

They hadn’t saluted him, but he was allowed to go where he needed to. At least for now, when Sofi found out he had brought Karolus to the city, his neck would feel her grip.

Passing through the aromas of the incredible gardens gathered all about him. It was a strange experience for him, the magic of the glittering gem dust blew around him like a willow-o-wisp. Only the natural smells of the flowers touched home. 

The majority of homes around him were estates, large villas with grounds. The oldest of the Calvarians resided here, families with claims right back to before the Motus Break. 

Wealth and arcane power was the choice of décor imbued within the architecture of this place. 

The Alexandrite Guard patrolled the streets and were known for not tolerating attitude or any suggestion of a threat this side of the Ward. Tarik had learned this quickly as a youth but still ended up on the sore side of a beating or two. 

He had on display the silver and wooden badge bearing the Rook upon it to show he had the right to be here. It gave him some protection but he received no favour.

Tarik thought about Sofi and the moments in their youth they had run together, wrestled, talked of becoming mighty heroes of Calvaria. He had always known it would be her, the sheer commitment to her faith gave an unbreakable strength.

The Mausoleum of Peperit was not far from where he walked. Only once had he been inside it, only once had he witnessed the power of the true dragons. Connor would see it soon. He blinked more than normal and took deep breaths. 

A guard made towards him but he quickly righted himself with a brief blame of the wine. It took a couple of hours of making his way around the estates. 

The deep blue glass of Suraquintarus Lake came into view. The surface was a perfect illusion but if one knew its purpose then many secrets could be found. 

Tarik walked out onto the glass, the moon full in the sky. Where its light touched he traced with a finger and spoke the draconic word for imprisonment. A small portal of water manifested and Tarik let himself sink beneath its surface. 

Down and down he went, not needing to breathe. All about him looked as if the water had cracks running through it like broken glass. 

A heartbeat or so more and his feet touched down on stone. The place was lit by non magical means, burning torches hung from walls. Corridors of stone ran away in different directions. The Suraquintarus Lake, the secret prison of Calvaria. 

Marble dragonkin, the guards of the prison quickly came to see who had used the lake so late in the night. 

“What are you doing here?” the ragged voice of the old guard spat the words.

“I’m here to see the wolf. Now if you wouldn’t mind.” Tarik held his posture and showed them the Rook crest.

After some grumbling they led him past stone cells, each with an orb of psychic energy hovering at the doorways and a tether of magic between prisoner and orb. 

Tarik ignored the faces of those here, some were criminals and others for reasons he cared not to find out. 

The cell they escorted him to did not have an orb in the doorway, instead iron bars had been put in place and two well equipped guards in leather and chainmail stood outside the mundane cell. 

Standing at the door he looked at the huge bipedal wolf chained to the back of the cell. Matted grey fur, glyphs of power tattooed into the skin diminished if light enters the cell. He had been beaten, cut and burnt.

“I smell you boy. Been a while.” the wolf growled.

“I need the sword Galwyn, he's here.”