The Dragon Realms Saga

Twelve years ago

Dragon Realm Scorch

The city of Na'Jharubes was the diamond of Isa; an attraction for the wealthy and those looking for a wide selection of servants and gladiators. Despite the rest of Scorch becoming a slave free nation, slavery remained Isa’s main import. Nal'Jharubes may have not been the capital of the slave trade, but it was still an important destination for it.

Avalon arrived to the unwelcoming heat of Scorch. Used to the temperate climate of Cypress, this new realm’s sweltering weather would have left her burdened had it not been for the light clothing she had acquired before her trip.

Stepping off the boat and onto the docks she could not help but get swept into the wonderment of her alien surroundings. Slender palm trees towered over the sun-colored buildings, widespread beaches glistened with ivory sand, and monkeys perched on the shoulders of various vendors. Ignoring the city’s allure, she made her way to the dockmaster.

“How much for passage to Jedeoheim?” she asked.

The dockmaster inspected her up and down in disdain, “Our boats are not for your class. Away with you.”

“My class?!” she exclaimed, “Surely there are merchant vessels that will welcome a traveler that pays,” she said, undeterred.

“One hundred gold sendetti and I will see to it that you leave with no further problems.” “One hundred!? Problems?!” she sputtered, “I’ll see to it that you have-” she halted with her

thought. She was in a foreign country with their own customs. If she were to leave Na’Jharubes, she would need to play their game. “Very well,” she grumbled, defeated.

Walking away from the docks, she passed into the crowded streets. Despite her lingering displeasure, she allowed herself to be overtaken by the aromas of incense and spices. She thought that perhaps, this could be a city she could get used to. As of now, she needed to continue with her plan.

She peeked down alleys and hopped up stairs looking for the familiar sight of two bodies locked in combat and the welcoming sounds of steel on steel.

Upon turning a corner, Avalon found what she had been searching for. The sounds of swords clashing and crowds cheering left her heart fluttering with thrill. Nothing could beat the excitement of a good fight.

Squeezing her way to the front of the crowd, she watched as two duelists paced around in a circle, swords poised, ready to strike. They stared at each other with determination, waiting for the other to make a move. Finally, in a whirl of action, one stabbed true, driving his thin rapier into the other's shoulder. The crowd erupted. Avalon could not help but smile. They seemed skilled, but she knew herself more skilled.

The victor flourished his hand in the air and gave an elegant, over-the-top bow for his audience. Silver rained upon his leather boots. The man grinned, waiting for another opponent.

“Just another day for Don Juan Diego the Third. Perhaps there is another who will finally

give me a challenge?” He mockingly held his hand over his brow as if searching for the challenger. “None? None wish to shower me with their sendetti? No one is brave enough to take on Undefeated Don Juan Diego the Third?”

Avalon smirked, gripping her sword, and moved into the circle. “I will take your challenge.”

Don Juan brushed his fine mustache and snapped his fingers. At the sound, a small boy

dressed in fine servant's clothing handed his master a wide-brimmed purple hat with a fluffy pink plume. Though far too big for his head, it matched his outrageous purple and red clothes. He daintily placed the hat on his head, then promptly took off to bow pompously with., “Don Juan Diego the Third. Undefeated duelist of Scorch. Master of the sword. Dashingly daring dancer determined to date you, my dear,” he said all in one breath, after which he tossed his hat back to the boy.

Avalon raised her lip in disgust. “Not a chance.”

“Perhaps when I win the duel, you'll reward me with a kiss?” he tried again.

Avalon unsheathed her sword. The blade sang as it slid out and swished at the coin purse that hung from the duelist’s belt. “We fight for coin.”

Don Juan removed the small purse and juggled it in his hand. It jingled with each catch, and Avalon's eyes bounced up and down with it. It had been quite some time since her last hearty

meal and decent place to sleep. It would not nearly be enough for her fare, but easily enough for a night at an inn.

“Are you ready, girl?”

Avalon removed her desert cloak and adjusted her silky trousers, bound at the shins. She snapped her head from side to side to loosen up her neck, then sucked in a belly full of air and breathed out. She had not fought anyone since her battle Vada back in Cypress. She knew she had an edge. He had never seen a Black Rabbit fight.

Don Juan swiped his rapier back and forth, and laughed before addressing the crowd. “Ladies and Gentlemen, prepare yourse-”

Avalon did not let him finish as she stepped off her back foot and dashed at her opponent. Like a dance she had mastered long ago, she slid along the gravelly stone, spinning and sweeping her leg underneath Don Juan.

As he fell backwards, she slammed the blunt side of her sword into his chest, crashing him to the ground with a dull thud.

The crowd went silent. Her technique had no art to it. No style. No honor. It was ruthless, but the crowd loved it! The town square erupted in admiration for this mysterious woman that came and embarrassed the defeated Don Juan.

Avalon snatched her winnings from her opponent's hand. “A pleasure, Mister Diego.”

“Anytime...” Don Jaun managed before he passed out.

***

Avalon’s winnings didn’t last long. After a single night at the inn and a rather overpriced meal in the cantina, only a few measly coins remained, not even enough for a crust of bread.

Perched on a low stone wall along the Na’Jharubes’ streets, Avalon counted out her money once more and sighed. No choice but to earn a little more. Another duel wouldn’t hurt.

One meal a day would be scant for any person, especially for Avalon after exerting all her energy for her earnings. But she could afford no more, she realized, counting the coin again. It had become a habit to sit on the wall every morning and stack her money, hoping that somehow, miraculously, there would be more than she’d had last night. At this rate, she’d never have enough for passage to Jedeoheim.

Avalon swept the money into her purse and stalked off in search for another duel. Sacrifices would have to be made.

Day by day passed. Day by day her purse became lighter and lighter. No one was willing to duel the assassin that never lost. Don Juan drew a crowd with charisma and showmanship. Avalon dispersed a crowd with her technical skill. She won too fast, fought too aggressively. Now she was cast to live on the streets lucky only to find the occasional duelist that didn’t hear about her reputation.

Jedeoheim may as well have been a destination further to reach than the heavens.