Alexandros

Alexandros used to be one of the most acclaimed jailers in the Southern Icefields. He had a spotless record: a fair and just guard, untouchable, a perfectly clean record.
Until it wasn’t.
On a cold and dire night, when the moon was covered by dark clouds, there was an escape. Two prisoners had managed to break the walls, kill one of his fellow guards and disappear – nowhere to be seen. And the worst part? The main culprit was a feeble Tundra that had fooled Alexandros completely. He had professed his innocence from day one. He had been set up. He was a good soul. They even had conversed at times, about the different types of snow and delicious plants of the icy fields of Snowsquall Tundra. During his many years as a Sentry he was proud to be a good reader of people. He could tell the difference between a bad seed and a rotten apple. And the Tundra Vespasianus was like a Winter's Delight – sweet as the snow.
Vespasianus had him utterly fooled.
As a young Gaoler, Alexandros was diligent and dependable. He was blessed with a thick coat of fur, glistening horns and a dazzling smile. Becoming a Sentry had been his dream for as long as he could remember. To keep the citizens of Sornieth safe. It could be a thankless job but seeing the smile of a wee, innocent hatchling was all that he could ever need.
He found a position in a very high quality prison full of the worst dragons unaffected by the Shade. The ones who would rupture the world by their own free minds.
Nothing about his appearance had changed at first glance. From a distance he was a striking beast. But as you come close you notice a sadness in his eyes, a sign of a broken soul, if only for a fleeting moment. Then it is exchanged by a fierce determination to hunt down and kill his lost little birds.
Kallistrate was one of the people who noticed it the most. He drew back from her, closed himself off and left without a word. Only a short note, saying “Do not wait, my love.”

All he brought with him is a bundle of old scrolls, filled with scribbles about the fugitives and other criminals that he hunts. Even a Gaoler has to eat.



By Rasaliina