The Time Tournament (Order of the Dragon #1)

CHAPTER 27

Elena

August 1430

I nearly squealed with excitement when Vlad II invited me to stay, but I kept my cool as I took a seat at the round oak table. A maid brought plates of cheese and meats along with goblets filled with wine.

“How is your father, Killian?” Vlad asked.

“Well, busy ruling over the Other Realm.”

He nodded slowly before asking, “How old are you?”

“Three and twenty, Sire.”

“I heard dragon shifters slow down in aging at a certain age,” Vlad II said.

“Yes, at five and twenty we reach maturity. Afterward, the aging process slows down exponentially. If we’re not killed by our own kin, we essentially become immortal. But immortality comes with its own laws and duty.”

My jaw dropped. The idea of immortal assholes was a different kind of torture.

“You know, Killian, you remind me of myself when I was your age. Being held hostage since childhood at Sigismund’s castle, I always felt the pressure of my heritage. The honor my father bestowed on me and the promise of claiming the Wallachian throne helped me live through the harder days. But when Sigismund decided to grant support to my cousin, Dan II, it infuriated me. He felt my youth and inexperience would become an impediment when all I did was learn from the best. Alas, he went ahead with someone who wasn’t even part of my father’s bloodline.

“So I sought support from the Polish kings and fled. I fled for one sole reason––to claim what is rightfully mine. They surrounded me while hiding through some narrow mountain passes. I fought, Killian, oh how I fought. But I couldn’t defeat them.” He shook his head, then looked at him. “I see the same spark in your eyes, young man. But you have something greater than me. You have strength beyond humans, and you can do something humans can only dream of.”

“Your kind words are appreciated, Your Majesty.”

Vlad II rose from the table and began pacing the room. “Rider Costin, do you know anything about our political scene?”

This was my time to shine. Well, shine with the little information I remembered. “I know that Dan II is the ruler of Wallachia and has fought countless wars to keep his throne. But rest assured, you will claim the throne––I know that for certain.”

Vlad II looked at Killian for additional information.

“Rider Costin is a time traveler, Your Majesty. She has knowledge well beyond our times.”

“Truly? Then can you tell me more?” Vlad’s face illuminated.

Why didn’t I listen to Mel and study harder? I might’ve skimmed that fifth-grade history book, but the dates were completely jumbled in my head. And I wasn’t sure in which year Vlad II would ascend the throne. “I don’t have the years, but I know your bloodline will stay in the history books for millennia,” I said.

My answer satisfied him.

“But there will be much blood spilled over the ruling disputes. When all male siblings have a chance at the throne, it can be deadly,” I said.

Killian shot me a look to zip it. I bit my lip.

“Indeed, my father has had four sons: Mircea I, Radu II, Alexander I, and me. But an agnatic succession has led to great turmoil among brothers. My father, Mircea the Elder, made it clear to the family and boyars that the heir was to be his eldest, Mircea I. He even involved him in political matters before his death. But once Father died, his word didn’t hold value for long. Ever since, blood has been spilled on the Wallachian throne almost every two years. Our brother Radu II, with the support of the Turks, assassinated Mircea two years into his rule. Another two years, and Dan II, our cousin, forced Radu II to flee south of the Danube. A rivalry unlike any other formed between them. Dan II had the support of the Hungarian kingdom, and Radu II allied with the Ottoman Empire. Neither prince realized that Hungary or the Ottoman Empire didn’t care who claimed the throne as long as Wallachia kept their suzerainty to either of them. They switched thrones six times in the five years I resided in Constantinople. I even had my sons Mircea and Vlad there.”

No way. Could there be a baby Vlad Dracula somewhere in this house?

“In the end, Dan II defeated Radu, but his joy ended quickly when another battle arose when Sigismund wanted the port of Kilia in our neighboring Moldavia. Sigismund wanted to use his longtime allies, the Teutonic Knights, to defend the border at Danube. Dan II, unhappy with Sigismund’s intentions, attacked the Kilia citadel and plundered it last year. Surprised by the turn of events, Sigismund decided to leave Kilia to the Moldavian ruler. This angered Dan even more and pushed him to make the greatest mistake of his life. He made an alliance with the Ottoman Empire to spite Sigismund. Though the noble boyars supported his decision, Dan’s northern influence diminished greatly since he sided with the Turks. Sigismund never forgives a betrayal. It has been six years on the sidelines before I could try to claim the throne. Hence, we meet here, in Sch?ssburg, where I’ve acquired this abode.”

“Sire, what do you believe Sigismund will do next?” Killian asked.

“According to his emissaries, he plans to crown me voivode of Wallachia. I am to set out to Nuremberg at the end of the year. It will take a month.”

“Let me fly you there, Your Majesty,” Killian said.

“No, it must be done by carriage. I must visit Buda, Pressburg, and Vienna. Plus, my entourage has doubled since Dan made his fateful choice.”

“We’re certain you will claim the throne by next year, Your Majesty. And our victory in the Time Tournament will only consolidate Sigismund’s support. Victory at all costs.” He cheered his goblet.

“Victory at all costs.” Vlad paused, pondering on those words for a moment. “A few years back, I would have agreed with you. But the Byzantines have changed me. Victory is such a fleeting moment in war. Those who strive only for victory usually try to always appear strong. But no one can always be strong. A small miscalculation can lead to a tragic ending. War is like a game of tournament. On the surface, there are two forces attempting to defeat one another. The one who does it first is the strongest. But that is rarely the case.

“In reality, the opponent who uses deceit when weak and cruelty when strong wins. Using this strategy will bring triumph every time.

“Fighting is easy. Even roosters do it. And one of them will certainly win. The wise commander will do the opposite of what everyone expects. He will not jump into battle the moment the chance arises. He will not focus solely on winning but on winning with little loss. Knowing when to fight and when to forgo the attempt is what true leadership means.” He looked at me and then at Killian. It seemed like Vlad was trying to prevent Killian from repeating his actions during the Time War. And by the look on my commander’s face, it reached its target. Shadows of anger appeared on Killian’s face. His inability to take criticism would be our undoing. I placed a hand on his arm, pulling him back from whatever dark thoughts festered within.

“Yes, Your Majesty. It is without any doubt that any commander would have many lessons to learn from you,” Killian said and stood. I mirrored his actions.

Vlad smiled softly. “Glorious deeds await us next year.”

“Without a doubt. But we must return to the Keep in preparation for the tournament. From now on, every day matters. We’ll see you again in Nuremberg, Your Majesty.”

Vlad nodded.

Killian headed for the exit, but I wanted to see baby Dracula. “Um, excuse me, Your Majesty. But are your boys home? I’d love to meet them.” I grinned to make my words less weird.

They both looked at me as if I had grown a horn on my forehead.

“Unfortunately, my wife has taken the boys to her parents and won’t be returning today,” Vlad replied to my request politely.

Another shot at meeting my idol had been demolished.

Killian still looked at me like I was out of my mind. He quickly excused himself, and we left Vlad’s house.

“What was that all about?” he asked.

“What? I just like babies,” I said.

“Then go to any Solomonari house. They have plenty. You didn’t have to ask His Majesty to present you his.”

As the door to Vlad II’s house closed behind us, I raised my head and saw the most stunning Gothic-style building I had ever seen. How hadn’t I noticed it before? “What is this? A church?” I craned my neck to take it all in.

“Yes, it’s called the Monastery Church. Now let’s go. We must return to the Keep before sundown.”

“The lines, the details. How do people create such beautiful things?” I said, but Killian didn’t appreciate my admiration as he grabbed my hand and dragged me back to the forest. His grip was so tight that one wrong move risked breaking my wrist.

After several steps, he still held my hand. Did he even notice it? “Commander, you can let go now.”

He did as I asked, but then he immediately took off his clothes without any warning. Accidentally seeing his toned buns was inevitable at that point. He sprinted and transformed into a dragon. I picked up his clothes and placed them in the satchel along with his privacy cloak he never used. I pulled my coif over my head and followed with my helmet .

I performed my signature mounting routine, and in the blink of an eye, we were soaring above the city. In a few minutes, we were in no-man’s land. It took a long time to get used to feeling like I was flying on top of a plane, but with much practice and enough of Killian’s growls, I mastered it. Though it was hot, the weather was on our side. Not a drop of rain in sight.

But once we got closer to the border, a storm popped up out of nowhere. I was trained for unpredictable weather, just not with Killian. I held the crest reins tight, but with limited visibility, I was unsure where to go. His body swayed from side to side.

“What do we do, Killian? I can’t see anything.”

He raised his head, signaling to keep going. I knew it wasn’t right. I took my helmet off, but the wind mixed with rain forced me to keep my eyes closed.

“We need to find a spot to land,” I yelled through the thunder.

He shook his head. What a stubborn dragon. We pushed forward, but the Moltenclaw Keep had yet to materialize. “Are we lost?”

Killian growled.

“Okay, okay. You don’t have to be so grumpy.” I knew if he could speak now, he’d have a storm of a lecture to give me.

Something sharp shot past. Was it a bird? I squinted through the rain, but visibility was nearly zero. Then another zipped by. An arrow? Another popped up from the other side .

“Killian, I think I saw an arrow,” I said. But he already knew as he maneuvered the opposite way.

“Are we being attacked? Crap. Crap. Crap.”

Killian shook me to my senses. “Yes, you’re right. Focus.” I took the reins and directed him toward what seemed like a mountain. Hopefully, it was ours. But the onslaught of arrows continued to follow us. Then Killian screeched like I had never heard him before. I looked to the left, to the right. Nothing. Then I saw the tip of an arrow peeking from his wing. Despite the bad visibility, I saw the tip glow. Crap.

“Can you fly till the mountain?” I asked.

He bellowed, which I assumed meant yes. But the longer he flew, the weaker he flapped his wings. Unable to hold on any longer, Killian plummeted to the ground. As we got terrifyingly closer, he released my legs and turned into human midair ten feet from the ground. He wrapped his body around me and took the brunt of the fall on himself. We rolled for a long time until a tree stopped us.

I stood up, adrenaline pumping through my body, and looked around. Not far from us was a cave. It would be a good place to hide until the storm passed.