Virtue

LORE OUTDATED

"I have seen her face again. I thought I would never see her face, the one who dragged my sister away, but here she stands, eyes barely open, second charge destroyed long after she lost that foolish Tundra she had led south. I had told myself that this Guardian losing her own sister had been enough. I told myself not to lay a claw on her.

It seems my own inhibitions have failed me.

There is a burning, white-hot anger in me at that face, at this clan's queen.

Please, tell me why Notus Silver still stands. Tell me why, Madrilenial. Tell me why it hasn't fallen yet.

Tell me why she still stands while my sister was reduced to nothing more than fragments of bone scattered around the Wyrmwound."

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An Imperial stands above a river in the Tangled Wood. Five days since his sister left, he hasn't received any word about how she is.

It's funny. Normally, she practically writes twice a day when their father takes her anywhere away from home.

He supposes it's good, though. She and that Guardian, they became good friends. They seemed to be having a good time. Perhaps, he thinks, it's more than a mere friendship. After all, that Guardian had a charge already. There would be nothing akin to the Search there to make things complicated.

He lets out a low, rumbling chuckle.

Yes, that's just like her, too. She wouldn't dare let word slip that she has fallen in love with someone outside of the nobility. Perhaps that is the reason she hasn't written.

The Imperial knows, deep down, that he is deluding himself.

He steps into the river. Meticulously, he combs his wings with his claws. Something has happened to his sister.

He wants to give that Guardian the benefit of the doubt.



"...And this is my son, Mikael. Heir to the family name."

Pride resonates in the voice of a decades-old Imperial. He has no doubt that he will walk across Sornieth for centuries to come. The truth, however, is that he is terrified, terrified that his mortality shall get the better of him and bury him beneath the shadowy ground.

Standing near the coast of the Sunbeam Ruins, just south of the Beacon of the Radiant Eye, the Imperial presents his son to another family. He can tell that his son wishes for anything else in his life. He knows that actions like this are what led his beloved daughter to run away. He knows, yet he does not stop. Somebody must continue the bloodline.

A Coatl with vibrant golden feathers and equally bright eyes struts forward. Her mother, a slightly duller gold but nonetheless golden Coatl, shakes her head and gives a nervous look towards the other Imperial.

In response, the father only smiles.

His son is awkward around the young lady, but he knows he must grin and bear it, for this is his bride-to-be.

The father steps forward and places a paw on his son's shoulder, giving him a knowing look.

In seconds, everyone involved realizes that this will not be a pleasant union.

Everyone save for the young Coatl, who remains blissfully unaware that her fiancé has his reservations about such an occasion.



A letter arrives in the mouth of a Nightsky Fuiran, one of the family's many trained guards. The letter is penned in the same writing he has read many times before, and it reminds him that he has shouldered the burden of marrying to continue his family's name for a reason. It is so that his sister may walk free.

The signature reads "Martine."

It's a long letter, longer than any he's received before. She writes of seeing the world, and how beautiful Dragonhome is now that she's seen it. She writes about how deeply in love she is with the Guardian, confirming Mikael's past hunch about her. She writes about how she's going to see the Southern Icefields next, then go back to the Ashfall Waste with her new companion.

She writes about her beloved's charge, a Tundra seeking more on her own heritage, being the reason for this.

A pang of envy stabs at his chest.

Mikael puts the letter down for a moment.

He must keep it safe. Somewhere his father won't find it.

After gently scratching the Fuiran's chin, Mikael sends the creature away and begins to pace around his den.

Surely there is a way to hide this.



"What," the elder Imperial snarls, clutching a length of parchment in his claws, "Is this?!"

"I-It's from Martine, Dad," his son whimpers, "She's been sending me letters, like she always does when she travels with you."

The father's claws tear into the parchment, prompting a cry from his son. He knows he must not do this, but his daughter has left the family, and he only wishes for her presence at Mikael's wedding. The Coatls from the ruins are already preparing the ceremony. The least his daughter can do is attend and bring a bit of levity to the occasion.

"Where is she?" he hisses.

His son, breathing out a sigh of resignation, drags his claws through the dirt for a moment.

"...The Shifting Expanse."



He finds her at the Wyrmwound, reduced to little more than bones. A Tundra's body lies nearby, pustules lining her wings and neck. Beside that, a Skydancer lays dead, with the same thing marring his own body.

A Spiral presides over the three, taking care not to touch the bodies. He refuses to leave the air.

Mikael swoops in and takes the smaller dragon in his claws, breathing heavily.

"Who did this?!"

The Spiral frantically shakes his head, struggling to escape the grasp of such a beast. Mikael knows that he cannot recover his sister's remains. His mind only tells him that this Spiral is to blame.

Then a revelation hits him.

"...The Guardian," Mikael says, "Tell me where the Guardian is."

Suddenly, the Spiral smiles, even if he's still trembling violently. Something about what this Imperial said seems...Pleasing to him. Mikael loosens his grip on the other dragon, allowing him to fly free.

"She's at the Zephyr Steppes now," the Spiral replies, "That's all I'm gonna say."

"...That's all I need to know," Mikael replies.

A tirade of grief washes over his chest.

Suddenly, the weight has hit him.

Martine is dead, and he swears on instincts alone that the Guardian is to blame.



The days pass, and he learns of things. Mikael learns of the clan called Notus Silver. He learns of the incident at the Wyrmwound from those he meets in the Shifting Expanse. He learns that the Guardian ran away when it happened.

He learns she is a coward. He learns her name is Regalia. He learns her mate's name, Crest. He learns that she is now queen of her own clan, sworn to protect dozens when she could not even protect her own companions. When she could not protect his sister.

Mikael learns that she has started anew.

And his sister is still dead and gone.

When he returns to his old home in the Tangled Wood, Mikael finds his father's body, charred by lightning.

He heads to the river once more and begins to groom his wings.

Then he falls asleep.



Mikael awakens months later. His old Fuiran companion watches him diligently. He remains in the water for hours, he thinks, simply awaiting something to move.

Then, slowly, with his bones barely able to hold him up after so much time comatose, Mikael rises again.

Catching a glimpse of his reflection, the Imperial realizes that he has changed. Flowering vines have taken residence across his body. Thick foliage is draped across his wings.

It's as if he was reborn.

Stretching out and leaving the water, Mikael silently gestures for his familiar to follow behind, and he swears that he will continue his quest regardless of his physical state.

It is in that moment that he first calls himself "Virtue," and in that moment that he heads west again.



"Your name is Virtue?"

"Yes. My sister, she knew your queen. Her Majesty's paramour from long before she was crowned."

"Ah, I've heard plenty of her. Regalia did love to reminisce..."

The Mirror looks at Virtue wistfully. It is clear the clan in front of Virtue is not the same as the one that was present on the Windswept Plateau long before. This is a broken clan, a clan struggling to pull itself back together on its way to the far north.

It's perfect.



A black and red Mirror catches his eye one day. The newest huntress to the clan, and someone whose skills in a fight are unmatched. She's given the guard a run for their money. Her name, he understands, is Madrilenial.

One day, the two finally get a chance to sit down together. It starts friendly enough. An odd Imperial, covered in plants by an unknown force, and a Mirror whose tiny wings have rendered her unable to even fly. Two odd individuals.

When the conversation turns to the monarchs of the clan, however, Madrilenial seems to share in Virtue's distaste.

In that moment, he sees the perfect opportunity.

"...I'd like to know more about you," he says, "Perhaps we should take our conversation somewhere a bit more private."

Madrilenial flexes her claws.

"Perhaps we should," she sneers, "Lest you become the target of my next hunt."

The way she says the word "hunt" tips him off to all he needs to know.

In the end, she's here for the same reason he is.

Virtue swears that day that Notus Silver will fall. He claims the queen, Madrilenial claims the king.

An alliance is formed that day, and Virtue sets his sights on more of the clan.

It's time to find more allies.

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