The Noblewoman's Bargain with a Dragon - Chapter 2

Lady Emilia Hartford withdrew her hood from her golden-haired head with a tired sigh, observing the landscape before her from atop her horse. She stood on the edge of the forest that gave way to the slopes of a nearby mountain range. While the early hours of trotting through the forest had shown her a wealth of greenery, now the edge of the forest had become a blackened, desecrated waste of withered trees and blasted outskirts. Truth be told, she had never ventured out this far. Nobody from her castle at Granitehall had ever ventured out this far save the odd merchant or scout, according to her husband. And now she was starting to understand why.

Truly, it did not seem like the desolate landscape of the Withered Copse was even capable of supporting life at this point. At one point, centuries ago, it had been a rich forest teeming with life and greenery, if the legends were to be believed. Very little trace of that beauty could be found now.

Though Lady Emilia could think of at least one inhabitant of this region. The very inhabitant that she was perilously venturing out to meet.

It was some sort of cruel irony that she felt safer in this desolate place than she did back home, however. From here, after two days of travel on horseback, she could no longer hear the chaos of the ongoing invasion off in the distance. Her heart broke for her husband and his regiment back home, and for the villages and hamlets that were currently being ravaged and ransacked by the orc hordes swarming the countryside. But she was also terrified, and rightfully so. The last thing Lucien had told her to do before riding off to the frontline was to run. And run she did, but not before escorting as many of her own people safely to the border as she could.

But she did not embark on this journey for mere self-preservation. Lady Emilia had another goal in this wasteland - a foolhardy goal that was unlikely to have any hope of succeeding, but one that she was desperate enough to attempt all the same.

After passing through the outskirts of the blackened woods, her eyes widened as she saw her destination off in the distance. A towering, black fortress - partially built into the side of the mountain - loomed before her on the other side of a stone bridge. With shaky hands, she reached up and removed her hood, beholding the foreboding sight in front of her.

There were a great deal of rumors and legends in the human kingdoms in regard to Darkhold Castle. Many considered the castle to be abandoned and uninhabited these days whilst others believed that the castle secretly harbored a host of demons. Rumor was that any who ventured into the castle never returned, and the entire region had thus been outlawed ever since some sort of ancient pact had been made during the days of King Merwin’s ancestor.

Emilia gave no credence to most of these legends and rumors save one: that a dragon was the sole inhabitant of Darkhold Castle. Her parents had told her the story time and again, about how the Dragon Lord Xathias had taken the castle by force centuries ago. The Withered Copse had once been a flourishing human province, supposedly, before Xathias had reduced the landscape around the castle to ash. Then the dragon’s reign of terror continued for decades thereafter before finally a truce was established between the creature and King Lorath, the current king’s ancestor. Since then, the dragon had seemingly chosen isolation, slumbering in his stolen castle and not involving himself in humans and their squabbles.

Since her marriage to Lucien, she had always been curious about the legends. Especially considering the close proximity of their province to the Withered Copse and Darkhold Castle. Not that she had ever really intended to actually seek out the truth of these legends herself; she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t terrified at the thought. Hell, she was terrified even now, and part of her still couldn’t believe that she’d embarked on this fool’s errand. But her province - her new home that she and Lucien had poured all their hopes and dreams into - was currently being ravaged by the bloodthirsty, unrelenting tide of orcs. If she needed to seek the aid of a monster to help defend her home against other monsters, she would take that risk.

Knowing that there would be no turning back now, Emilia swallowed her fear and pressed on. Her horse resisted her as she tugged the reins at first, clearly not keen on venturing across the bridge and into the black fortress. She patted the horse’s mane and stroked its neck, calming it down enough to continue on across the bridge. Part of her still wanted to turn her horse around and flee to the capital like Lucien would’ve wanted her to do. No, she had come too far, and she had to stay the course.

Upon reaching the wrought-iron gates of the citadel, she dismounted her horse and hitched it to one of the withered trees. After calming her horse down once more she slowly padded up to the gate, wringing her hands together nervously. The massive gate loomed before her, utterly dwarfing her in size. She prayed to the Maker that if she knocked, someone would be here to answer. There was no way in hell that she’d be able to push this gate open, even if it was unbarred.

She took a deep breath and knocked as hard as she could on the gate three times. There was no response. Huffing, Emilia knocked several more times. “Hello! Is anyone there?!” she called out loudly. She was met with a deafening, unnerving silence.

Emilie swore under her breath, lamenting that she had let her husband down. “This was so foolish of me. I should’ve known this was a waste of time.” She turned on her heel to retrieve her horse when she heard the massive gate creaking open. The sound caught her off guard and she nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard it.

As the gate drew open, there was nobody there to greet her. Not a single soul. It was as if the door itself had a life of its own and had drawn open for her.

Every bone in her body was telling her to leave this accursed place as fast as possible. She was not Lucien. She was not a warrior. If she walked through those gates, she might never walk out again.

No. She could not turn back, no matter how utterly terrified she was. Lucien was counting on her. Her people were counting on her. Steeling herself, she strode forward and passed through the gates.

Emilia expected to find an entrance hall filled with a host of demons or piled up with skulls of the dead. But instead of such nightmares, she was surprised to find an antechamber that was surprisingly homey, bathed in comforting light from many torches. The blond-haired young woman let out a sigh of temporary relief that she wasn’t slain outright upon entering. She was not so foolish as to think that she was completely out of danger, however. It was blatantly obvious that someone was currently residing in this castle, and that denizen could still be a very real threat to her safety.

“Hello?” Emilia’s soft voice sang out, echoing through the grand hall.

She was once again met with silence for several moments. Emilia looked every which way, seeing three labyrinthian corridors before her and trying to see if she could catch a sign of anyone wandering through each of the three paths before her.

“Hello, my dear.”

Emilia nearly jumped two feet in the air as she heard an eloquent voice greet her from behind. The noblewoman was met with the sight of a tall, slightly older gentleman with black hair, gray sideburns, a goatee and an opulent dark purple frock.

“Oh my, I’m s- so sorry!” Emilia said, letting out a small laugh. “I was not expecting anyone to greet me.”

The man gave a small smile. “I believe I am the one who owes you an apology, my lady. Forgive me for startling you.” His voice sounded kind, but also quite clear, deep and refined. “What brings you to Darkhold Castle?”

Emilia put her hands in front of her, trying to appear as a woman who befitted her station. Despite the trepidation she had felt in her journey thus far, it was nice to meet someone in this fortress who appeared cordial. “I must speak with the lord of the castle. It is a matter of…grave urgency.”

The man pondered this, stroking his chin with interest. “Grave urgency? Hmm.” He looked her up and down, and Emilia couldn’t help but feel a tad disconcerted by him seeming to appraise her. “My lord does not receive many visitors. Who may I ask is calling?”

“Lady Emilia Hartford,” she said, curtsying to him.

“Hartford, you say?” the man asked. “I know of a young Lord Lucien Hartford, of one of the nearby provinces.”

She nodded. “He’s my husband,” she said proudly.

“Husband? I had not heard he had wed. Intriguing.”

Emilia didn’t know what to say to that. This man who appeared to be a servant of the castle was starting to make some rather personal observations about her. Though she supposed she couldn’t blame him for his curiosity. It likely wasn’t every day that a noblewoman ventured to this castle, alone and without an escort.

“Very well, Lady Emilia Hartford. I will bring you to my lord. Be warned that I cannot guarantee his current mood, however. Choose your words for him carefully, my lady.”

Emilia gulped and nodded. She followed the eloquently-dressed man up a grand staircase in the center of the atrium. As she walked through the castle, she could not help but notice the fine carpets draped across the staircase. She did not see any cobwebs or signs of ruin, much to her surprise as well. For all the legends of this castle being an accursed and decrepit place, it appeared to be surprisingly well-maintained.

Realizing what an arduous trek it appeared to be just to ascend to the second floor of the castle, the young noblewoman decided to make small talk with the servant. “Pardon me, sir. But may I ask your name?”

“Oh, where are my manners? You may call me Feldham,” he said as he led her through the castle.

“And how long have you served your Lord, Feldham? If you do not mind me asking.”

“I do not mind at all, my dear. I’m but a humble servant. I’ve served Lord Xathias for nearly three decades now.”

Emilia nodded. “And…” she began hesitantly, twiddling her thumbs. “Do you like serving Lord Xathias, Feldham?”

Feldham stopped for a moment and turned to look at her, giving her a small, knowing smile. “My lord may appear intimidating when you first meet him, my lady. But he is honest, and always keeps his word. This I can assure you. As for how he will respond to whatever it is you are here to propose for him, well, that shall depend on you. If I may be so bold as to say so, milady.