1214-02-19
Mizen, a city tucked in the heart of Wara. Some say it's the best city in the world.I can't argue with that. Walking along its streets, I see children running and laughing, families chatting outside tea shops. The city's signature architecture — sweeping roofs and intricate wooden details — feels alive, blending harmoniously with the calm ponds and elegant bridges scattered throughout.
Wara itself is a land of contrasts. To the north, snowy peaks rise like sentinels of ice, while the south boasts pristine white beaches that glisten under the sun. This striking duality has earned Wara the nickname "Land of Harmony".
Passing through one of Mizen's many bridges, I pause to watch children play along the edges, their carefree laughter mingling with the calls of distant merchants. A man nearby haggles for fresh fish, and a woman barters for an assortment of herbs, her hands filled with woven baskets.
"Ten coins for this fish? Outrageous!" the man exclaims, holding up a silver-scaled trout.
"Then you don't deserve it," the fishmonger snaps back, shaking her head.
With a chuckle, I exchanged 30 coins for three bags of dumplings, their warm, savory scent wafting up as I tie the bag to my belt.
At the heart of Mizen stands the grand palace — a towering structure of pale wood and gleaming blue roofs, glowing under the morning sun. Its sprawling design is a testament to the city's craftsmanship, every curve and peak echoing the culture of Wara. Surrounding the palace are smaller buildings, their roofs extending like wings from the main structure. A shimmering silver gate marks the entrance, each panel carved from an immaculate white stone known as Ance.
In front of the gate stands a familiar guard, clad in armor of red and white. His appearance is striking, the design of his armor blending traditional elegance with formidable strength. He stands motionless, like a statue guarding the secrets within. Beyond him looms the palace walls, said to house the Supreme Dragon — a being revered by the people of Wara.
Outside the palace, I approach the smaller buildings where I work. These structures, nestled against the outer walls, are modest compared to the grandeur behind them, but they carry a quiet importance. As I pass through, the early light of the day dances on the pale wood, filling me with a sense of pride for the city I call home.
"Good morning," I said as I fumbled with my keys, glancing at the guard standing rigid by the massive Ance door.
"Good morning," he replied, his voice steady and formal.
I rummaged through my bag, finally retrieving the food I had bought earlier. His expression softened into a faint smile as I placed the small parcel on the stand beside him.
"Thank you," he said, giving me a respectful salute before returning to his stiff, statuesque posture.
With a nod, I pushed through the towering white stone doors, their weight familiar in my hands. Inside, the room greeted me with a soft, expectant quiet. I lit a candle near the entrance, and its warm glow spread in a cascade, igniting others in its path until the space was bathed in gentle golden light.
The room stretched long and high, its design both functional and beautiful. It was a space I knew intimately, so well that I could navigate it blindfolded. To my right stood a broad table strewn with papers and notes, the edges curling from frequent handling. The desk was my sanctuary of study and work, where plans were scribbled and ideas born.
To the left, a door led to the palace wall itself. This section of the room was adorned with weapons and armor neatly mounted on wooden racks, their gleaming surfaces reflecting the flickering candlelight. A small letter slot was embedded in the wall nearby, where I placed outgoing correspondence for the guards to collect. Beneath my feet, a plush purple carpet softened the pale whitewood floors, its rich color a stark contrast to the light, airy tones of the room.
At the far end of the chamber, rows of enclosures held what was perhaps the most precious cargo in all of Wara: dragon eggs. In a glass enclosures shimmered with frost, housing pristine white eggs nestled in beds of snow and ice. To the right, another enclosure rippled with water, its depths cradling blue eggs that thrived in an aquatic embrace. The central enclosure, filled with lush green grass and soft moss, held eggs of every hue, their shells blending seamlessly with the vibrant life around them.
This was a place of delicate balance, where the future of Wara's most revered creatures began. Each egg carried the weight of possibility, a bond waiting to hatch between dragon and rider. The room was alive with quiet potential, a hum of energy that never failed to awe me.
I stood for a moment, letting the candlelight and the faint hum of the enclosures surround me, before stepping further in. There was work to do, and the dragons waited for no one.
One of the eggs had hatched. Inside the water enclosure, the tiny dragon swam in lazy circles, its delicate form gliding effortlessly through the liquid. I set my belongings on a chair and leaned closer, observing the creature.
"You've grown," I murmured, tapping gently on the glass.
The hatchling responded with a flick of its tail, swirling around for a brief moment before retreating to a corner of the tank. It curled up and settled into a still, watchful rest.
Smiling, I retrieved a small piece of parchment and began to jot down a note. "New dragon tame," I wrote, folding the message and placing it into the letter cubby near the wall.
I glanced back at the hatchling. We'll need to tame this one, I thought. But how many days old is it?
Among the clutter of notes scattered across my desk, I noticed a small slip of paper stuck to the edge of the water pen. The familiar handwriting of one of my coworkers read:
"1 month old."
With the hatchling now asleep, I turned my attention to the day's tasks. I shuffled through the notes left by the others, refreshing myself on the stages of dragon development and their unique needs.
Stages of a Dragon's Life by Ino
Egg Stage: Dragons begin as eggs, a stage lasting approximately one month. During this time, their environment matters little, but subtle influences can still affect their development. For instance, an ice dragon egg kept in extreme heat may lose its icy properties and emerge as a sand dragon. This stage is critical for shaping the dragon's elemental alignment.
Hatchling and Juvenile Stages: These stages overlap and span from birth until the dragon is about three human years old. In this period, environmental consistency is crucial. Hatchlings and juveniles must remain in their native biomes to survive. An ice dragon must stay in cold, mountainous regions, while a sand dragon thrives only in deserts. Without this, their fragile bodies cannot adapt, leading to death within weeks or months.
Adult Stage: Once a dragon reaches three years of age, it enters adulthood, which lasts until around 30. During this stage, dragons become far more resilient. They can adapt to varying climates, making them versatile and reliable for riders.
Elder Stage: At 31 years and beyond, dragons enter the elder stage, where they begin to decline. Though they can no longer serve as mounts, they remain vital for their unique resources, such as the rare mineral Ance, which can only be harvested from their bodies after death.
I flipped through the notes, my hand running over the worn edges of the parchment. These guidelines were not only for caring for dragons but also for understanding how to form a bond between dragon and rider.
Bonding was easiest during the hatchling stage, when the dragon was impressionable and open to forming its first and strongest bond. It was still possible at later stages, though the chances of success diminished with time.
My thoughts lingered on the Emperor, a man who had shattered precedent by forming a bond with a fully grown adult dragon. It was said his bond was forged in the heat of battle, an unprecedented display of will and power. This achievement had earned him the chilling title "The Dragon Reclaimer," a name that sent shivers down the spines of those who heard it.
As the hatchling stirred faintly in its corner, I couldn't help but wonder: Would this dragon find a rider? Or would it be another of the countless unbonded, left to the care of tamers like me?
For now, the answers lay in the future. I dipped my pen into ink and began to scribble today's observations, the quiet hum of the dragon enclosures filling the room.
I watched the hatchling as it slept, its tiny body rising and falling with each breath. Its scales shimmered faintly in the water, catching the light like ripples on a lake. From time to time, I added food to its pen — small fish and bits of soft meat — watching as the hatchling would stir, snap them up, and then curl back into its quiet corner.
Caring for it was simple, yet strangely rewarding. There was something peaceful about the way it moved, gliding through the water with such ease.
Some people believe dragons are descended from an ancient, evil serpent — a creature of chaos and destruction. But as I stood there, watching this tiny dragon paddle playfully in its enclosure, I found that hard to believe. There was nothing evil about it.
"You'll grow strong one day." I said softly
It was beautiful in its own way — strange, otherworldly, but beautiful.