The sons of Keigat were princes of a sort, though their House was not ascendant at the time that the Balequeen arrived and destroyed their lands. Their father, the king-heir or Konik, had stewed for two decades as his people struggled against an immortal, unkillable foe. Keigat, king-heir of the House of Zwarden, was by all accounts the single most qualified person to promote to king in times of war. His House held a tradition of supremacy by military prowess. Surely he and his supporters should lead them during this hopeless war?

During those two decades? No, in fact not. The actions of Keigat's son, Keung, had become synonymous with the reason that most Aigard had lost faith in Garandezwarden. Dragons of the Nexus had descended on Ford Aigan, those alien beasts so alike to the Balequeen, but bonded mind-to-mind, insinuating themselves into the spirits of the people they'd claimed. They'd wanted to help, and after Keung's failure, too many Aigard had turned to them, instead. Keigat had denounced the creatures for years, arguing that their size and might was not worth the price of losing the autonomy of the mind. How could the Aigard know that they were still what made them whole, with half their mind and all their time devoted to caring for parasitic aliens?

So it was that the House of Zwarden lost support. Proud Aigard troops led by proud Aigard officers went into battle with the Baletouched and never returned-- or worse, in Keung's case. He had been personally humiliated and humbled. He'd lost his father's approval in his attempt to do exactly what Keigat had alleged all Aigard must do: rely on his wits, his strength, and his fellow soldiers to overcome the Baletouched menace.

So it was that reliance on dragons grew, at first sweeping the camps of the shiftless Garandevierken, then enticing more reticent Aigard. Now, even leaders of the other Houses possessed such beasts, and Garandezwarden was at real threat of becoming irrelevant. The war had moved on and left them behind.

Keung couldn't think too much about what it meant to be left behind. By father, by House, by a war he could no longer serve in. He was the poster child of what not to do, of failure. To be approached by his father for a critical mission, then, even if it took him offworld-- especially if it took him offworld-- was a miracle he couldn't pass up.

Feeling in a sour mood the next morning, the scar-faced Keung stumped along with his walking staff from the hostel, down the well-worn path to the hatching sands. Everything at Nidus Ryslen felt strange and wrong, but nothing could ever be as terrifying as what he'd already been through. It put him in a haze, untouchable by those who looked up to see a black-haired, bale-marred Aigard scowling as he passed them by. Nobody stopped him to talk. Keung was not surprised.

The path he took did not lead him directly onto the sands; that wouldn't be for some time yet. Instead, he found himself at one of the higher up observation passages, looking down over seating and onto the sands. He wasn't entirely alone, but the space felt empty, as though it were used to being crammed with onlookers. It had a strange, lonely energy that Keung resonated with, and he found himself a seat out of the way and settled his staff across his knees to watch the brooding mothers and to think.

The Vella Creans on the sands now weren't all too different from the kinds he'd seen at home. Some had horns, others had frills. They were unnervingly monochrome, but that meant nothing to him.

Mostly, they were huge, alien, and possessed powers that outbid anything that an Aigard could throw against his enemies, save perhaps for numbers. A useful weapon. If it was to be believed, a staunch, unwavering ally.

A shackle. A noose, even. So many dragons had died for Garandevierken as the House of Travelers stepped up to burn back the corruption of the bale-touched. More were yet to, almost certainly.

Why would Keigat's sons be any different?

Keung's frown deepened, and he gently loosed his tarnished laureate from over his ears, looking down at it, rather than across to the brooding dragons. Why had his father sent all three of them? It was clear that he expected them each to bond one from the next dragoness below, but to what end?

And who in all the great tiered hells was the Shadow Lord?

What was the deal they'd been used to strike?

Whatever it was, Keung knew that even his favoured brother, Keshon, was but a pawn. Garandezwarden had mostly stayed out of this game of dragons for years, save the occasional wayward bonding. They had, as a house, fallen low on the totem. Could it be about power and power alone?

Or did his father think they had a fighting chance?

Keung wasn't sure what he hoped for more. He would never have doubted Keigat when he was younger, but now he did so in spades. If this were a bid to increase the strength of the House, surely Keigat would have suffered his boys to bond from Garandevierken stock. But they'd been sent out, instead, to Nidus Ryslen-- amongst aliens, amongst these lesser humans, like starry-eyed Garandevierken commoners looking to conquer only with their eyes and their memories.

He could swear that one of the dragonesses had heard him, for she raised her head from her mound of covered eggs and gave a low, warning rumble.

Keung hadn't expected to feel welcome here, but he resented the implication that he had been judged unworthy by a dragon, of all things. He tucked his laureat in one pocket and righted his staff, stumping his way out of the Sands, unsatisfied.