The days went by so quickly. Karolus had been made to continue his chores around the villa and its gardens. The marble rockery was now complete and despite everything going on in his life right now it looked incredible. The image of a great sea drake among the waves was the image they had created. 

From the upper balcony the image could be seen but from the ground it was a beautiful array of blues, whites and greys colouring the stones.  

The ritual was to take place later in the day. The highlander had woken early and dressed in his cleaned and repaired Toan clothing and strapped his sword belt to his back. His hair tied back and braided. Staring at himself in the long mirror he could pass as a highland warrior from legends of old. 

He laughed at the thought, closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. 

If Yina, Stella and Tarik weren’t going to help him then he would take it into his own hands. He felt the conversations with Sofi had put a crack in her faith, but it was too little too late. 

Moving out into the yard he had many eyes on him from those that worked the villa. Some looked on with dislike, others without a care. There were one or two that held genuine smiles for the highlander. 

It meant nothing to him right now. He had laid in his bed the night before and accepted what lay before him. 

Galwyn had told him Connor would remember everything after the ritual. There was no way he was going to be able to stop it. Karolus would be there at the very moment it finished, he would be the first thing Connor saw when he snapped out of this imposed twisted imprisonment. 

At the gate of the villa Sofi was waiting. He had not seen her since she left his room a few nights ago. She stood in her full ebony Vendari form. The plate armour was magnificent complimented with the steel shield on her back and long sword at her hip. Karolus felt like he was in the presence of a mythical dragon knight.

“Good morning Karolus.” she spoke with formality. 

“I know I can’t stop it.” he said confidently.

She shifted her rigid stance.

“But I will take Connor from this place, even if it costs me my life.” Karolus stood directly before the Vendari, he meant every word.

“And what if he wants to stay of his own fruition?” she stepped closer. 

Karolus didn’t back away, in another time and place he would have welcomed it. He thought about her words. 

“If it is his choice I will honour it.” he saw it wasn’t the answer she expected. It also didn’t bother him as much as it would have a few months ago. 

Karolus stepped right into her personal space and looked up into the emerald eyes, and with every ounce of his being refused to fall into them.

“Will you?” he searched for a reaction, anything to show a sign of what she might do.

“He is Vendari.” there was more to her thoughts but she couldn’t say the words.

“I thought so.” Karolus stepped past her to walk away.

“You are not yet released from my care.” she said but did not have the heart to enforce it.

Karolus ignored her words and was more than prepared to face the repercussions of it. But none came. 

He made his way into the more populated areas of the town that housed the Vendari villa. He walked a market square with nothing more than curiosity, his thoughts tumbling through his stupid plan to sneak into the ritual and grab Connor and whisk him away with no conflict whatsoever. 

It was at this point he noticed a pair of Calvarain guards, both he had seen up at the villa at some point. They watched from a far but were definitely following him.

He wasn’t angry, to be fair it was obvious. He was still on some sort of community service and they weren’t sneaking about. 

Karolus asked a few of the locals if they would be attending the Vendari ritual planned for the evening. It seemed none knew what he was talking about. 

After an hour or so it was frustrating that the stalls, taverns and any other person he could grab had no clue. They looked at him like he was a terrible Bard looking to make coins in some mad way.

Midday and he had nothing. You couldn’t sneak into a place you couldn’t find. He grabbed a drink and shrugged his shoulders before draining the mug. 

Simple, he would have to follow Sofi. See where she went and go unnoticed. The thought was beyond laughable.

“You the one looking for a magic ritual?” blue and yellow scales patterned the Samos face and they wore a toga of beige.

“I am indeed.” Karolus sat up on the bench he was on and raised his cup to his two tag along guards.

He smiled when they glared back. 

“Well for seventeen silver pieces I can tell you where it’s happening.” 

“A very specific number.” Karolus reached for his coin purse with curiosity. 

“That's how much I need.” The Samos sat up with better posture and matter of factly. 

“That is a very fair answer.” Karolus gently shook his head and counted out the seventeen silver coins. It was the last of his coins, some he had taken from the villa. 

“So?”

“The Mausoleum of Peperit. On the Western side of this very island,”

Karolus let it sink in, ignoring he was now poor.

“Who told you I was looking?” the highlander asked pleasantly surprised that someone had remembered him.

“Some gardener called Sofi.” They took the coin and headed straight into the Shiny Tooth tavern.

Karolus sat a little longer. He now had the place, no coin to pay for a carriage of any sort. But what he thought of the most was that Sofi had told him where he needed to be. West it was, something else he had to ask directions for.

The specific part of the isle he was on had a valley cut through it. The Calvarians had built along the steep sides of the valley and the larger buildings were at its base.

Rounding a rocky part of the path he saw exactly where he was heading. The Mausoleum of Peperit. It was massive, a huge marble tomb with sporadically placed glass across its dome. 

It has taken him two hours of hiking through the towns. Memories of the Bastion villa behind. His thoughts had dwelled on Sofi’s question. What if Connor did want to stay?

He didn’t lie when he told her he would honour his brother's choice but by every fibre of his being he would not be happy with it. 

He pushed it away, confident that Connor would want to leave. During the less populated areas of his hike Karolus unsheathed his broadsword and went through some basic movements. 

When he didn’t have the blade in hand he practised his druidcraft, creating small purple and white blooms in his hand. If he got out of this, he would learn the craft. 

As the sun set, Karolus looked at the Mausoleum. It was still a ten minute walk but even at this distance it was awe inspiring. He now saw that the placed glass was refracting the light from within. 

It was as if a light show was being performed within. Likely the arcane magics being prepared for the ritual. 

Sitting beside a stone fountain, sculpted into the image of a dozen geckos, he saw the end to his confidence of sneaking in. 

A horn was sounded and a marching unit of Calvarian soldiers came through the village. All heavily armoured and ready to brandish their swords and spears. 

There were well over a hundred of them, at least that was when he stopped counting. His breathing sped up as he looked at the floor. Now was not the time for a panic attack but the scenario was very much worthy of one.

“You Karolus?”

Looking up he saw a very young wyrmling. Bright eyes and an excitement that told Karolus they were past their bedtime. 

“I am.” he smiled at the youth.

“Good Tarik says cheer up.” The youth flipped a gold coin in the air and caught it before moving back to the folks enjoying the evening.

Karolus looked up quicker than he wanted to, ignoring the soldiers still marching. His eyes darted around looking for Tarik. The march was now outside the village and closer to the Mausoleum.

The highlander took a few paces in several directions trying to extend his search. But to no avail. He couldn’t see Tarik anywhere. But he didn’t need to.

“Still not so subtle are we.” Tarik laughed as Karolus spun to see him sit by the fountain he was just at. 

Karolus had a hundred things he wanted to say, shout, ask at Tarik but was just relieved, for some reason, to see him. 

“Let us talk highlander.” Tarik patted the free spot next to him. 

Karolus did so but scowled at Tarik.

“So what is the plan? Sneak in and fly away with your brother? Or are you planning on changing into a wolf and biting everyone in your way?” The questions were rhetorical.

Karolus wanted to be defensive but hearing Tarik ask showed him how laughable it was. He slumped into the stone seat. 

“The former, but without the flying.” 

“You're a druid are you not. Surely a bird is a simple task.”

“Yina said it takes a while to learn.”

“A shame, it would have been useful. But we will manage.”

“We?” Karolus failed miserably at hiding his surprise.

Tarik now turned to Karolus.

“The ritual will go ahead as planned. We cannot prevent this.”

“I know, Sofi said..”

Tarik held his hand up.

“We cannot prevent it, but we can be near to it. You will be my guest. Once the ritual is complete I will give you a moment of distraction. Get Connor to the docks.”

“Wait, there was a lot in, well in all of that.” Karolus circled his hand in the air.

“Guest? Distraction? Docks?” Karolus asked.

“All Vendari, successful or otherwise, are honoured guests at each Dragonborn ritual. They may bring a guest.” Tarik began.

“Your eyes.”

Tarik said nothing.

“You’re Vendari?” Karolus was excited and scared at the same time.

“I am not Vendari. However I was part of the ritual when I was young and it failed. The scar it left was deep and yes my eyes are the outcome.” Tarik didn’t talk about this subject much. It normally led to fighting with the locals. 

“I knew you had magic running through you. You fight too well not to have help.”

“Quite the opposite. I am immune to magic and so must fight harder and smarter than most.”

“How can you be immune to magic?”

“As I said the scar was deep.”

Karolus left it as the silver coin dropped and he pieced the dots together. The wound it had caused the Nabbatan, immune to magic. That explained the scars, Stella and Yina couldn’t use their magic on him.

“Ok, so I’m a guest. What's this distraction? And don’t say you’ll know when it happens.” The highlander was now more keen than ever, more so with Tarik at his side. 

“I will take the life of a Prince.”

“As simple as that?” Karolus was now thinking his fly away idea had more merit.

“You just worry about your brother.” Tarik smirked.

“One day I shall ask more about that skill set. The docks? There a ship waiting to sail us away whilst you hold off the hordes of dragons?” Karolus was enjoying the chance to be sarcastic.  

“Not quite. As long as you can hold your breath you should be fine. Now come, we don’t have long.” Tarik stood and stepped a few paces before looking at Karolus.

The highlander sat with his thoughts. This is it. He got up and followed.

Approaching The Mausoleum of Peperit was vastly impressive and pressingly daunting. Karolus had never been inside such a structure. The places of burial in the highlands were large in some places as the generations of the same family and or village were buried there. But they were hills with family crypts within.

This place made him feel like he was in another world, one he had no comprehension of. Tarik had told him it was a place of life not death. 

Despite Calvarians being known as dragons across the world and where that may be close to accurate, they weren’t true dragons. 

Uldryd and their children had blessings running through the blood of all the races of Colossus. 

Waiting to be awoken, and the Mausoleum was the most potently connected place in the world. The realm of Dragons held a link here. Raw power that could be manipulated and woven among the spirits of mortals. 

Passing the soldiers that marched past earlier Karolus could feel their auras. Both weapon and armour radiated enchantments. These were not ordinary soldiers. 

The double doors were ornately decorated with young dragons breaking through shells and magical realms. Every possible type of gemstone was studded across the wood. The marble walls either side stretched forever left and right before curving out of sight.

“You mentioned a Prince earlier, is it..” Karolus began.

“Unfortunately not. You will have to finish your dealings with Prince Octavus on your own time.” Tarik was happy with the way the highlander approached the subject.

“And finish them I will.” Karolus whispered the words more to himself as a reminder he was not done with Octavus.

A loud choir was singing, it was the first time he could describe the language of the dragons as beautiful. Harmonious sounds almost floated about each and every person here. 

The igniting of pride and patriotism climbed up through him. He could feel the vibrations in his stomach.

The Toan Highlands at the edge of his thoughts and his passionate love for the rolling hills and dark green forests, even the rain, oh how he missed the rain.

“It’ll fade, for now though, enjoy it.” Tarik mentioned as he looked to the stairs leading to the viewing balconies. 

Karolus did just that, enjoyed the feelings the choir singing was invoking in him. It fueled the path he had taken to be here, to stand as a Toan before the might of the dragons. He felt ready.

Now sat at a table with a personal server, Tarik ordered drinks for the pair and requested the server give them privacy. 

All of the upper balcony had been made to replicate an amphitheatre. The seats were spread around and taken by many Calvarian’s. All manner of gemstone coloured scales surrounded them.

Some seats were empty, a coloured stone placed upon the pillow.

These were for those that had died or the ritual had failed to bless them. It was strange to see others sitting among the honoured guests, dwarves, elves, gnomes, beast folk, giant bloodied and more. 

Tarik had told him they were the failed, the ones that survived. Most were turned away from the city but others found peace on the island. 

Karolus hated it. He believed that most if not all had been brought here as youth’s, under the same spilling of blood as Connor had.

The ceiling was made of glass both opaque and transparent. Where there wasn’t glass there were large gemstones positioned. 

Below them a vast pattern of draconic and arcane glyphs had been created upon the marble floor. Eight throne-like structures had been made from single pieces of the same pearlescent crystal. 

All varied in design and even though Karolus didn’t know the differences those of Calvaria could spot it from a mile away.

Karolus' nerves were raw, his heart was beating so loudly he was checking to make sure those nearby couldn’t hear it. 

His breath was taken when the choir's song went low and soothing, as if the switch in harmony was a command, light entered the mausoleum, a kaleidoscopic pattern of gem colourations. 

The glass on the roof refracting the light from the hundreds of gemstones and the glyphs from the ground. 

If one could walk through the heart of a rainbow, this is what they would see. 

Tarik nudged him and gestured below. 

Calvarian’s were walking out in elaborate togas that folded across their torsos. Expensive clasps held it all together. 

With them was Connor and the young dwarf Karolus had seen him sitting with at breakfast all those days ago. Both were holding what looked like a large piece of egg shell and were blindfolded. 

The pair were dressed in simple linen tunics. 

“What now?” Karolus asked.

Tarik nodded at the scene below.

Draconic words were spoken with gusto as the dragonkin below spoke words of power to Connor and the dwarf. Both reacted and stepped towards the eight thrones.

The dwarf sat first on one with several high twists in the crystal. The throne lit up and the whole of those attending roared the word Koratal!

The sound was a roar and the hairs on the back of his arms stood on end. Now Connor stood before two thrones. 

For whatever reason he stalled, Tarik was off his seat looking down with concern written all over his face. He was mouthing words but Karolus couldn’t work out what he was saying.

Connor sat on the throne shaped like a war horn. And the word Algamas! Boomed about the mausoleum. 

Tarik sat back in his chair and for the first time since Karolus had met him he saw worry in his face.

“What's wrong?”

“He sat on Algamas throne.” Tarik spoke the words to the air. 

“Meaning?” Karolus felt like he was trying to piece together a puzzle with no pieces. 

“Algamas is the Booming Voice, the Declaration of War.” Tariks' eyes narrowed as his mind processed.

“I don’t follow, was that it, the ritual is done?” Karolus looked back to his brother who was no longer blindfolded. 

Tarik stayed silent.