“Ahh, a breakthrough!” Greylen said, laying his hand on the Prince’s shoulder.
    Garadaine jumped as he heard the words, turning around sharply to face his Master.
    “Master, please, don’t sneak up on me like that,” Garadaine said, panting slightly.
    “It’s been so long since you’ve been so distracted that someone could sneak up on you.  I’m sure it’s a healthy change,” Greylen winked.  Garadaine smirked at the snide remark and continued away from the tower.

    The village of Dahyart stretched out before him, a bustling little hamlet nestled up closely to the one side of Greylen’s Tower.  Dahyart, in fact, was busier than most villages twice its size, but there was little need to wonder why.  Dahyart’s main source of income was from the travelers and tourists who came every day to meet with Ikros’ Lord High Mage.  The largest building in town, aside of course from the tower, was the local pub.  There were small booths set up on either side of the main thoroughfare to sell little trinkets and wares to remind the visitors of their trip, as well as an amply stocked armor and weapons shop run by a feisty little dwarf that always made Garadaine smile.
    It was a beautiful day, the sun shown down warmly upon the entire countryside.  Garadaine could smell the scent of roasting corn upon the wind, along with the soft pungent smell of pine.  The wind was blowing softly, but rather constantly, typical of this part of Ikros.  It always made staying here much more pleasant, especially dressed in full battle armor.
    “Odd, I would have expected at least one of your friends to have stayed and waited for you,” Greylen looked around quickly.
    “Not really.  I know where each one of them is, and I can gather them quickly if I need to.”
    “Oh?  I don’t remember teaching you a spell like that.”
    “You didn’t.  I just know them.  Rillik is going to be over there at Bor’yka’s weapon’s shop, probably doing his best to give that old dwarf a hard time,” Garadaine chuckled, “Won’t be too hard.  Gartgnar is going to be in the pub, no contest.  Trenial and Masark are probably over with the livestock by the main pens.”
    “Why’s that,” the wizard asked.
    “Trenial loves animals.  And Masark knows what kind of trouble Trenial can get into when he’s around a four hundred pound bull.”  The two men chuckled as they continued out from the tower.  “And Cassrien will probably be in the garden communing with the plants… or something elvish like that.”
    “You know your men well, my Prince,” Greylen smiled, “I’m impressed.”
    “I’d say so, enough to put my life in any one of their hands.”

    “It really was a rather good plan, Garadaine,” Greylen said softly as they waved hello at the passing villagers.
    “Huh?” Garadaine asked blankly.
    “Trying to escape from that cave,” Greylen looked over at the Prince, “you didn’t have many options.  Your plan could have worked had the fates not been against you.”
    “If you say so…” Garadaine looked down at the ground, as if studying the patterns in the specks of dirt, “What are we going to do about that dragon?”
    “When I first saw the dragon approach the cave, I summoned a warrior whom I met several years ago.  He specializes in slaying dragons, especially big ones.”
    “Wait… didn’t you just give me a speech about not letting creatures suffer and all that?” Garadaine turned to the wizard.
    “Yes, but a creature such as that can only be a danger to the people of Ikros.  If it grows to be full size, it will be a threat to everyone.  It’s in our best interest to kill it now while it’s young.”  Greylen said coldly.  Garadaine had rarely seen this side of his Master, a cold, stern individual.  He only became so when a decision like this had to be made, one where the options available weren’t exactly tasteful.