"No. No, do not say that," Aeron pleaded. "We will win. I know we will. I can feel it in my heart. This will not be the end of us. The fighting will end. The wars will end. Peace will come again. And we will return here, freely, as we want. You must have faith."
Nyella looked at him with tired eyes. "I want that, Aeron. I want it with all my heart. I hope for it desperately. But all I see is the world becoming worse. Men already fight among themselves, kingdoms against kingdoms. Now, creatures we do not even understand attack us too. It feels endless. Still, I hope you are right. I hope we win, as you believe."
Before Aeron could say anything, two soldiers approached them. "The king calls for you," they said. Aeron and Nyella exchanged a glance, then nodded and followed.
They stepped back into the king’s chambers, where General Amber was already waiting. The king sat upon a finely carved chair of white wood. He studied them carefully once again, one after the other, before he began to speak.
He looked first at Nyella. "You," he said. "You are royalty. You are from Ivarion, are you not?"
Nyella stepped forward and bowed slightly. "Yes, your majesty. I am the only daughter of King Tharyn Elyndor."
The king leaned back, thoughtful. "Ah, yes. I have heard of you. King Tharyn has but one child, a daughter, and they say she is no ordinary princess. They say she is a warrior, fierce and brave. Looking at you now, I see the truth in those words."
Nyella said nothing, but her silence was enough to answer.
Then the king turned to Amber. "And you," he said. "You are the general of Dorch. The man who leads their armies into battle. The one who commanded the last war."
Amber stepped forward. "It is so, your majesty. I have led our armies, and I will lead them again in the battle to come. It is not an easy task, but it is one I will not abandon."
The king nodded slowly. "I can agree that leading battles is no simple thing. But we cannot relate because we are not fighters and do not engage in battles."
Finally, his eyes fell upon Aeron. "And you," he said. "You stand quietly, but you are different. It seems to me that the creature outside belongs to you. A dragon, you called it?"
Aeron stepped forward and spoke with pride. "Yes, your majesty. It is a dragon. His name is Draco, and he is my friend."
The king raised his brows. "Your friend, you say? That is a rare thing indeed. Then tell me, which kingdom claims you? From where do you come?"
"I am from Ivarion, your majesty," Aeron answered. "Not from the capital, but from a small village far from the capital of Ivarion."
The king folded his arms and looked at them closely. "What an unusual alliance this is," he said at last. "A princess of Ivarion, a general of Dorch, and a young man who rides a dragon. If this were a battle of men, no army in all the world could hope to stand against you.
"But," he sighed and shook his head, "as I said, we are not fighters. We are not soldiers, nor weapons of war. Our people are builders. Our hands are made to shape stone and wood, not to carry swords. That is what we are known for. And if all of you cannot defeat this enemy with all that you have, then what hope do we have? If you fall, then we all perish. And there is nothing more that Zeirath can do."
The king continued speaking. "With that, I give you my answer, and it still stands. It is no. We cannot help. We cannot risk it. We will not fight with you."
Aeron frowned at the reply and asked, "May I know why, your majesty? Do you not believe what we are saying? Do you not believe that this enemy could march upon you at any time? Or perhaps you think you can hide behind your fine towers when they come?"
"Neither of those," the king replied. "I do believe you. But we do not have what you ask for. If we had the armies you need, we would gladly give them, but we do not. That is why I must give you my answer quickly, so you still have enough time to go to other kingdoms, especially the Blacklands. They have exactly what you need."
"It is still not enough," Aeron said with his voice rising. "Even with yours added, even with all the soldiers in the world, it is still not enough. Do you not understand this?"
Nyella stepped forward and interrupted him. "Thank you for the audience, your majesty. I clearly understand you."
The king nodded to her. "Thank you for understanding me, Princess. I wish you well, then."
Nyella turned to leave. "We will be on our way." She glanced at Aeron, urging him to follow. But Aeron still stood, staring at the king.
"Every single person is a piece of hope," Aeron said firmly. "If we lose this, if we lose this fight, then our world is as good as lost. Think about it."
Then he finally turned and left. Nyella and Amber followed behind him.
Once outside, Aeron’s anger spilled out. "Why would he say no? Why would anyone reject what we ask for?"
Nyella climbed onto Draco’s back and said calmly, "That is humans for you. That is the world as it is. We do not have time to keep convincing anyone. Every moment we delay, the enemy moves closer to us. We have tried our best, and we move over to the next."
She looked around at the streets and towers. "Besides, what he said is true. Look at these people. Do they look like fighters? No. Let us leave this behind and go to the Blacklands. Many have said they have what we need. Let us hope they will listen and agree."
Amber, who had been silent the whole time, finally spoke. "But there is a problem."
"What is it?" Aeron and Nyella asked together.
Amber’s face grew hard. "The problem is that the people of the Blacklands are not good people."