Suddenly Ulmerad lunged forward, unsteady on his feet.  Alamir quickly caught her husband and helped him stand.
    "Sire!" Garalt called out.
    "Father!" Alyia cried.
    "It's getting worse, isn't it dear?" Alamir sighed.
    "My sword's energies are dwindling," Ulmerad said weakly, "It's powers come and go, like the tide.  It's powers that have allowed me to stay alive so long are failing, and my body is catching up to it's age."
    "Mine is as well, old friend," Daravon said softly to Ulmerad.
    "I have seen my last siege, my darling," Ulmerad looked longingly to Alamir, "My time has passed."
    "Father, what do you mean?" Alyia pleaded.  Garalt now realized just how much Ulmerad had to fight during the week long celebration not to show this side of his health to the rest of the kingdom.  Ulmerad was an extremely proud man, and Garalt was sure this was hurting his pride just to have his family see him this way.  The once proud king was now a crippled old man, hunched over and leaning on his wife for support.
    "Bring me... Drakon..." Ulmerad said softly.  Garalt looked over at the dragoon and motioned him over.

    "My lord?" Drakon said, unsure, walking over to Ulmerad.
    "Drakon the Whirlwind," Ulmerad said, looking over the dragoon, "your people have been nomads for ages, practicing your ways in secret, outcasts from 'normal' society.  But I have never seen them be as brave or as unselfish as you have been.  You are a credit to your people, Drakon.  You have fought on the side of a country to which you hold no allegiance, and have asked no reward."
    "I was doing what was best and right, Lord Ulmerad," Drakon nodded.
    "And for that, you have won your people a home," Ulmerad smiled up at the dragoon.
    "Sir?" Drakon blinked.
    "Daravon and I have discussed this, and so I hereby present you and your people with land in eastern Ikros.  It has quality farmland, as well as a few forests and other natural resources.  My aids will give you all of the specifics.  Ikros accepts your people, and recognizes them as such."
    "Thank you Milord, thank you very much!" Drakon smiled, "I don't know if all of my people will like settling down, but I know of many who would."
    "You may rule your land as your own nation, or accept Ikrosian rule, I will leave that choice up to your people." Ulmerad said weakly.
    "Ikros gave us the land, Sir, and we shall bow to Ikrosian wishes.  Ikros may call on our strength whenever the need arises."
    "Very well, Drakon the Whirlwind," Ulmerad smiled.  
    "Congratulations, Drakon," Garalt smiled at the Dragoon.
    "I don't know what to do first!" Drakon said happily.  Garalt had never seen the man so happy before.
    "You may indulge me in something," Ulmerad said, "bring me my shield and helmet!"  A squire quickly ran to his king, holding his shield on his arm and the King's armored helmet in his hands.

    "What is this, father?" Alyia asked quickly.
    "As I said, daughter, my time has passed," Ulmerad began, putting on his helmet and taking the shield from the squire.  "I do not wish to have the last memories of me be of a feeble old man.  Daravon and I have discussed this, and it is the best way."