Never in my earliest youth had I imagined that I would follow the path which I follow now. It is almost surreal, as I stand here, about to leap into the greatest battle of my life which knows neither friend nor foe. It was in that age, that earliest youth of twenty-one, in a land where the average males lives to six hundred, that I began to suspect truth. Not the truth as I see it now, of corse, but something beyond that which I was shown. I came to realize there was no need for the things our society held most dear: the Mage wars, the Hippocloterai, and it’s slave trade.

I, of course, gained all this through first-hand knowledge. My master was a high mage, bent on becoming a master of the sport beyond all others – he was very good and highly respected through the land, but I knew he would never succeed when I became more powerful than he. And I rode in the Hippocloterai for his house on the beautiful mount Ëlon – who is still with me now, though all others have perished. And yes, to answer your question, I was a slave and still am in many ways. Now, this may take some explaining, but I loathed the slave wars when they began.

For certain, I came into the industry in much the same way as many others, as an orphan, found on the doorsteps of the Audeville Orphanage. It was there I was raised until the age of fifteen – admittedly praying for a family who would take me away from the impending doom of slavery. Of course, no family came and I was auctioned off at a mediocre price, from a cage, to the family of Heir Baron D’Eaucanel. And it was to there I trudged, bound in the horrible shackling of gelt rope – for I was notoriously strong and clever in my youth.

We came at last upon the residence and I will never forget the first thing the Lady Baron said to me.

She said, “Go to the kitchens, dear, ask Chef to cook you something – you look half starved.” This was all she said to me in the first month of my stay.

In fact, I was rarely spoken to by any of the reigning family, save the daughter who asked once if I would join her on a ride – politely and somewhat bashfully I declined the offer, as it was not my place to accept. I spent most of my time with Chef – whose real name was Andy – helping him cook in the kitchens since, on that first day, he had asked me to peel some vegetable for the Baron’s supper.

On the fifth week of my stay, I was given my first official order, more in the form of a question: “Serkis, would you mind mucking the stables, today.” It was the Baron, and I remember quite distinctly the gasp of fear (inbred by nights of horror stories at the orphanage) and the polite bow I was quick to give.

I ventured out to the stables, where I had not yet been, unaware that I was being followed. I was terrified of horses and had been since I had nearly been trampled by the mistress’ carriage at the orphanage, but I kept going, fearing more what lay behind me should I turn around.

My fear only served to escalate when I saw the groom taking the steeds out to the yard. I should say hear, because the only sign of him was frantic and harassed yelling. What I saw was fire, and then the scaled blue snout of the creature I was as yet too scared to name as a dragon.

At this I balked, I lost my nerve and turned to run. I was caught by Heir Baron, who had been following me, anticipating both my realization and my reaction. He held me then by my wrists and shoulders, so slender both fit in his massive bear paws, while I shook in fear. I am not proud of my reaction then, as I pleaded with him to let me go, quickly reducing to unintelligible sobs with the occasion ‘please’ and ‘no’ that I managed.

Certainly a lesser baron, or one with not so great an expectation of me, would have been outraged and would have beaten me or worse. But the Baron D’Eaucanel held me until I had finished, shook me once that I met his gaze through tear-stained eyes, and spoke to me very firmly. “Serkis,” he said, “you have been asked to help muck out – that is all. Today we will see how you fare, tomorrow we will decide: the same task or a different one.”Here I calmed, or went numb at the least, and he turned me back to the stable and took his hands off my shoulders, not pushing me, but not giving me room to turn again.

Itook a deep breath, steeling myself, and marched forth into that place. It would be the pivotal point of my life, and the Baron and I would often laugh amiambly about the event over smooth Brandy, but I hated him for it as I crossed the doorstop and inhaled the putrid stench of dragon.

The next day I awoke well into the morning, tired and sore and grumpy from raking up the cacas of twelve dragons. I went down, as usual to the kitchens, although somewhat more cautious of running across the Baron. He let me stay there that day and for the day after, but on the third day he intercepted me on the stairway and sent me back out to muck the dragon stalls.

For the first while he toyed with me, some days letting me stay with Chef, other days forcing me to working with the dragons. I am sure I was a nuisance to the groom – Indo was his name – as I showed up unexpectedly at any point during the day. I believe he understood just how fearful I was of the creatures, for he never made me go near them.

He did, however, confront me one day and ask me to set a schedule. He suggested I arrive at eight each morning – after he had taken the steeds out – and leave once the stalls were clean. I agreed, my secret fascination and curiosity with the place winning over all other feelings.

It was here that my training began, although I was blissfully unaware. I shouldn’t really say that, for I ad as much a hand in it as any. I began showing up for my duties at eight, mucking each of the stalls for a total tonne of cacas each day, and returning to my quarters for a lengthy bath.

Slowly, I let myself stay later and later, watching Indo while he worked. Slowly, I mastered the art of polishing the over-sized riding gear, checking and mending the harnesses and tie-downs in the barn, and even began preparing their meals – well the parts of it that weren’t still alive. But Indo would sent me away before bringing the dragons in – a fact I thought I was appreciative of until I began to feel that he thought I couldn’t handle it. It was a brilliant move on his part, as I developed a thirst to stay, and through this, a plan to show him I was ready.

I began using the dragon door, ducking into the runway ad through the twenty-foot hole in the side of the barn. I, of course, never saw a dragon in all this time despite how dangerous it was – and therefore how brave I was being. Their pens were far and below the crest of a hill, so I never even saw the dragons from a distance. But there was always the possibility that one would escape it’s paddock and return along the run to the barn.

Eventually, I believe Indo thought I was ready when he announced, as usual, “It’s time to bring in the boys, Serkis.” I shouldn’t say as usual, for he usually added that it was time for me to buggar off, or something to that effect. However, I chose to infer this last part and left, ducking out at my usual point in the runway as Indo begant o tell me about dragon handling.

It was not until I lay in bed that night that I realized my error, and mentally kicked myself until six the next morning. At this time, I had a brilliant idea – Indo took the dragons out at six, and I ran over as fast as I could to help him.

It was several minutes after six when I arrived, ducking into the run as usual. ‘Indo’ I called as I resumed my sprint to the barn. I was stopped short when I looked up into the face of a dragon.

I will never forget that first impression of Ëlon. He was a full sized stallion, blue across his face and body with white forelimbs and spiked tail that swung behind him as he crouched to fit through the door. How naive was I to believe that this corridor, built specifically for taking dragons out, would not be in use while Indo was taking them out. I must have surprised the dragon as well, for he froze in his place, as we both stared at each other. Indo yelled for the dragon to move, committing us both to action. Ëlon, being as noble and wise as we would soon find him to be, stepped through the door, challenging me, rising to his full height. When I didn’t move, he spread his golden red wings and bowed to me, dropping onto his forelimbs. Unsure of the gesture, I bowed as well.

It was then that Indo saw me, and his yelling became far more urgent and he reached for his gelt whip. Upon this, the dragon lunged past me. I watched as it sauntered over the hill, throwing flames at Indo as they went. It would be years until I finally understood the moment that passed between Ëlon and me, but it bonded us for life. It was a connection, a promise between out two families; his, an ancient and dying breed the he was painfully taken from, and mine, that I was taken from in an equally painful event, but as ancient and noble as any of his people, although I had no idea of it at the time.

But that is enough for now. After this, my training for the Hippocloterai began, and that is a far too eventful chapter in my life to not be given its own episode.

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Field here. So this is something completely different from my other works, just in style and format - you know, being first person, past tense. It's my mental release for the christmas holidays, so I hope you like, and I'll try to keep updating on a regular basis, whatever that may be. Like always, I've pretty much got the storyline rushing through my head, I just have to put pen to paper and write really fast to keep up. I hope that you'll review at the very least, and maybe like it a little bit too ; ).