"So it is said," Dorómy said, frowning.
"Ah!" Sles said, his lisp becoming more pronounced. "Did the Great King see his full plans come to pass? Or, perhaps, one of his High Sisters completed his great work? We are, you might say,
students
of your long history. Perhaps we could see the Great King's Gate? There is none grander, none more powerful in all the Kingdom. Or so it is said. Oh, what a sight it must be!"
"You have something for me, voidling?" Dorómy asked. "If not, then Lord Lessip will see you out."
Beside Sles, the kalaban growled. Dorómy saw Lessip pivot at the sound and take a step towards the creature, placing himself slightly between Dorómy's person and the cloaked beast. Dorómy wasn't worried, not in the slightest. But he did realize that he was glad Lessip was there. Sles glanced from Dorómy to Lessip and back to Dorómy again. His eyes were glittering and black. The eyes of a crow. He did not blink.
"Of course." The little man said finally, bowing long and deep. His lisp was pronounced. "Please forgive us, Your Grace. We do indeed come with intelligence and news. Remarkable things. Incredible things. Things we have witnessed with our own eyes. And, if you will give us but a moment, we shall tell you truly all that we have seen."
The Kingdom of Remain spans all space and memory.
It is the Eternal Kingdom, the Silver Kingdom, an ancient sphere born of our love and our sorrow, our blood and our joy.
The Kingdom of Remain encompasses countless stars and minds. It has served our people for millennia. And we have served it in return.
The Kingdom of Remain is our place. It is our home.
The Kingdom of Remain is our legacy. It is our story.
It is the only tale we have worth telling.
The preceding events take place in the Third Year of Dorómy III, Founding Year 12,037.
"As for the Kingdom's smaller Worlds, a Wise Prince will do his Utmost to secure first the Duchy of Dávanor. The Ferocity of Dávanor's Dragons is the stuff of Legend. The Zeal of its Knights, even more so. Trained from Birth into the Arts of War, the Fervor of a Davanórian's Sword is matched only by the Fervor of a Davanórian's Honor. For this Reason the Dragon Riders of Dávanor are rightly feared throughout the Realm: Nothing is more terrifying than a Warrior willing to die for his Word."
– Katherine II,
The Canon of Tarn
,
"Prolegomena to Imperial Tactics and Diplomacies."
F.Y. 189
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Deepest thanks are due Amy S., Andrea W., Becky D., Erika F., Erin H.K., Heidi G., Jen K., Kari M., Kelsey D., Lincoln H., Matt C., Marilyn D., Mark E., Nikoli F., Nina M., Robert K., Robert R., Tamara W., Vanessa H., and Zoey S. for their generosity, criticism, support, encouragement, and faith. High Ladies and Lords of Dávanor, the Kingdom and its peoples salute you.
Extra special thanks are also owed a tough squadron of young dragon squires who reviewed this book at an early stage: Anna L., Ainsley N., Amanda H., Aubrey G., Bennett W., Elissa C., Gentry N., Giovanni N., Grace S., Joey B., Lindsey H., Maddie B., Mason C., and Thomas W. Let it be known throughout the Realm: the next generation of dragons is blessed with riders of the highest quality—smart, dedicated, and fierce.
Finally, the Kingdom of Remain would not exist without the love and friendship of the following warriors and poets: Anna S., Aurora M., Cady M., Christopher M., Darcie D., Jesse H., Kan L., Kristin L., Liz N., Mari H., Olga P., Roger S., Ruth S., Tianhua X., Tom M., Travis K., William S., and Zach F. I have not the words—so these, I borrowed: Πάς γοῦν ποιητής γίγνεται οὗ ἂν ἀγάπη ἅψηται.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Peter Valerianos Fane served in the Silver Legion's artillery corps for over forty years, rising to the rank of Peer Colonel under High Lords Bellános and Dorómy Dallanar. His most well-known actions took place on Colodóx, Batládea, and Ebum—all in the service of the High House of Remain. In retirement, Colonel Fane spends the majority of his time on the great library world of Genonea, where he lectures on military theory, ancient Davanórian war poetry, and moral philosophy. He winters at his clan's hereditary estate on Egáton with his wife, his family, and a small flock of messenger dragons.