Jasmine's Log, Supplemental
Ebonridge Castle, Albion
Christening Date plus 96 days (estimated)
Wings cut the sky.
Castle towers rise like judgment.
A princess becomes a petitioner.
Pride bends before necessity.
Verdant's powerful wings carried Jasmine down from the coastal wind, the lesser forest dragon descending in a wide, graceful spiral toward the courtyard of Ebonridge Castle. The ancient stone fortress of Lord Edmund Blackthorn stood proudly on its rocky outcrop, banners of green and silver snapping in the breeze. The sudden appearance of a dragon from the sky sent the castle guards into immediate alarm. Shouts rang out across the battlements as men rushed to their positions, crossbows and spears raised in panic at the sight of the massive creature bearing down on them.
"Hold fire!" Jasmine called out as Verdant landed with controlled precision in the open courtyard before the main keep. "l am Princess Jasmine Same Roth of Rothgard! I come in peace to speak with Lord Blackthorn!" The guards hesitated, eyes wide with a mixture of fear and awe as Verdant folded his wings and lowered his head, allowing Jasmine to dismount. The dragon remained still and nonthreatening, sensing her intent through their bond, though his sheer presence—deep green scales shimmering with gold highlights—made the courtyard feel suddenly small.
A senior guard captain approached cautiously, hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
"Princess or not, you cannot land a dragon in the lord's courtyard without permission. State your business clearly." Jasmine stood tall, cloak settling around her. "I am Princess Jasmine Same Roth of Rothgard, leading a fleet of refugees. We seek safe passage through Lord Blackthorn's territory to reach my uncle, Count Reginald Roth. I request an immediate audience." The guard captain studied her for a moment, then nodded curtly. "Wait here. I will inform the lord."
Jasmine waited in the courtyard, Verdant standing protectively behind her. Servants and soldiers peered from windows and doorways, whispering among themselves at the sight of both the princess and the dragon. After a short wait, the guard captain returned. "Lord Blackthorn will see you in the audience chamber. Follow me. The dragon stays here."
Jasmine gave Verdant a reassuring touch through their bond and followed the captain into the grand hall of the castle. The lord's audience chamber was richly furnished with tapestries depicting ancient battles and hunts. Lord Edmund Blackthorn, a tall man in his late fifties with sharp features and graying hair, sat on a raised chair. He regarded her with a cool, appraising look as she approached.
"Princess Jasmine Same Roth," he said, his voice smooth and measured. "How delightful to receive a visitor from such a distinguished branch of the Roth family. One must admire the courage it takes to arrive unannounced on the back of a dragon. It speaks volumes about the resourcefulness of your line, even in these trying times."
Jasmine kept her expression composed, recognizing the subtle condescension beneath the polite words. In Albion, her royal title from Rothgard carried far less weight; here she was at best a viscountess from a minor branch. "Lord Blackthorn, I come on urgent business. My fleet carries hundreds of refugees from Rothgard. We seek safe passage through your territory to reach my uncle, Count Reginald Roth. We require only the right to move inland and resupply along the way."
Blackthorn leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, a thin smile playing on his lips.
"Always so direct, just like your uncle. One can see the family resemblance in your determination. Passage is not granted lightly, especially with so many mouths to feed. Your uncle's lands border mine, and I have no desire to see his problems become mine. I will allow your people to pass through my territory — but only if Count Roth gives me his personal assurance that your refugees will not become a burden on my lands. No looting, no overstaying, and no demands on my resources. He must guarantee their conduct and support. After all, we must look after our own, mustn't we? I'm sure a lady of your refinement understands the delicate balance of hospitality."
Jasmine met his gaze steadily. "My uncle will provide that assurance. We seek only safe passage and the opportunity to rebuild. We bring skilled hands and knowledge, not burdens."
Lord Blackthorn studied her for a long moment, then gave a thin smile. "Very well. Send word to your uncle. Once I have his guarantee in writing, your fleet may proceed. Until then, you remain anchored outside my harbor. Do be careful on the return flight, my lady. The winds can be treacherous for even the most... spirited of travelers." Jasmine bowed slightly, maintaining dignity despite the condescending tone. "Thank you, my lord. I will see it done."
As she turned to leave, Verdant's presence in the courtyard and the weight of the lord's conditions weighed heavily on her. The journey was far from over, and every step now required careful negotiation.
The dragon waited.
The fleet waited.
The Lord's price had been set.