We owned the world, and it was taken from us.

They appeared suddenly, though some believe they lived in the mountains and in the deep, deep forests, waiting.

We were kings, and they burned the thrones out from beneath us.

Much of the land is dead, scorched to a blackness that has spread far and wide.

We lived grandly, and they have stolen all pride, all riches, all that was good from us.

As Knights serving our blessed king, we will take back what is rightfully ours. We will smite those flaming beasts who dared to sneak upon us and deliver us a punishment that was not meant for mankind. We will stand our ground. We will fight. We will slay the dragyns and all who might follow them. We will reclaim our thrones, and we will be kings on this earth again. Take this Oath, live to the Code, fight for our country, and we shall see the world as it should be once more.

Salutations, Lord Shim.

I trust this letter finds you well and whole.

It is with open hearts and arms that the Dragyn Knights who have taken their oath request your son, Shim Changmin, to join our brotherhood as a page in the hopes that he ascends to knighthood with us. The tutor the castle has sent for you returned with a promising report, and we must press how anxious we are to begin his training. He is a fine boy, raised in a household of such strong noble blood. Even the king shows interest in the boy, if that is not enough to spur you into action. A response is needed...

The nobleman stopped at the end of the decree, rubbing his temples. His young son curled on the rug in front of the hearth, the firelight casting his small shadow across the stone floor. He removed his glasses and set them on the table by his chair, sighing deeply. He had hoped this day would never come; he knew his son had always wanted to join the ranks of the men and women who fought under the King's flag, but...

Changmin was only a boy, and they wanted him registered into official servitude as a page in a fortnight.

He knew what horrors and what dark fates awaited those who became Dragyn Knights, but his son still stamped his feet and begged to be let in when he became of age. It had frightened his mother to her core, and his father...well, he still did not like the idea, but even he knew how stubborn his son was. He would surely get his way, and he had.

The little noble murmured in his sleep and turned over, a ghost of a smile on his face. "Dream, my young son," the nobleman whispered, staring at the parchment in his hands. "Live as an innocent while you still can." His own grin was fleeting, and he stood to his full height. He crossed the room to the drawers set into the table where ink stains and drops of wax littered the surface. From a drawer's recesses, he withdrew a large stamp and reached for the melted wax being heated by a candle. He signed the bottom of the letter, dipped his stamp in the wax, and pressed hard until his seal greeted him when he moved his hand away. Face blank, he rolled the parchment up and secured it with one of his wife's satin bows. She would not miss it.

"My boy," he breathed, and a tear rolled down his face. I pray that one day you will return to us. I pray that the fires of the beasts will not lead to your doom. After a moment's hesitation, he walked briskly over to the sleeping child and dropped a whiskery kiss on his hair. "May the Deity watch over you, and may you serve your King well."