Michael had asked a number of questions about the capital on the ride there. It was called Itallassia and had been the only city still standing after the first rift break. It was a port city, and Michael could already taste a bit of salt in the air as they approached. They passed by a number of large estates on the outskirts that seemed to be producing some type of vine grown fruit he didn’t recognize. The estates were made up primarily of the older building techniques Michael had seen. White cement with a lot of domes. He expected the capital itself to be similar, made up of primarily the white cement with maybe a few newer buildings of brick or lumber.

  He had been partially right. The city was made up of cement with a number of domes, but it wasn’t the austere white he’d expected. Instead it was a bombastic mix of colors. Entire domes had been painted, red, green, or even purple. Intricate patterns had been lovingly wrought all across every smooth white surface with the only bare patches of white being intentional stripes, stars, or circles. Michael could see the colors even as the wall, which itself was colorfully painted, came into view.

  A dozen knights rode out to them, led by a powerfully built man on a black stallion. He wore armor that had been blackened and had sandy hair with bright green eyes. He was… pretty. There was really no other way to describe him. He even had a small beauty mark on his right cheek. Michael wasn’t certain of the man’s age, but he guessed he was in his mid to late twenties.

  Lance moved his horse up to meet him, as he was the ranking Knight among them, and saluted with a fist against his chest.

  “Lord Bren,” he said as he approached.

  “Knight-Sergeant Lance,” he said, returning the salute, “Welcome to the capitol.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “I want you and your men to follow me around to the side gate. We have a covered carriage for Prince Aza and the rest of you to take you directly to the palace.”

  “Understood,” replied Lance before turning to bark out orders to the others. Michael could see the main gate in the distance, letting in a number of other caravans of merchants and soldiers. They turned off the main road onto a side road. There were almost no other riders on it and it led all the way to the wall before riding up it to a much smaller gate outside of which covered wagons had been prepared.

  Michael and the others shifted themselves off their horses and uncovered wagons and climbed into the new ones. Michael made sure that he was in the same one as Aza, and Ollie and Lance joined him. They were alone as the rest of the group filtered into the others.

  “Who was that?” Michael asked as they felt the wagon start to move.

  “Lord Bren. He’s King Marlo’s bodyguard and in charge of the protection of the palace and the Capital.”

  “Blake told me he does more than guard the King’s body,” said Ollie.

  Lance grimaced a bit. “I’d heard that rumor too, but the King’s already produced three heirs. Even chose a woman of lesser nobility to help with the weakness of the blood Hume royalty has struggled with.”

  Michael stayed silent. He didn’t particularly care what idle gossip about the king was. From what he’d seen the man was doing a great job responding to the crisis and was well loved by his people.

  “The King shares a clutch with that man?” asked Prince Aza.

  “Shares a clutch?” asked Ollie.

  “He means raises young with him,” answered Michael. “The lizardfolk all group up to share responsibility for different clutches of eggs. Sometimes it's pairs, sometimes more. Male and female only groups aren’t uncommon from what I saw. Though I’m not great at telling their genders to begin with.”

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  Lance frowned. “You’re a prince though. How do you have royalty if you share raised clutches?”

  “I was the strongest magically of the clutch raised by a previous prince. That makes me the new one.”

  “But what if you aren’t actually… his?”

  “He raised my clutch. That makes me his son.”

  “He’s from another dimension of a different species. The fact that his culture can even remotely be understood by us is a miracle. I wouldn’t try too hard to fit him into a box you can understand,” said Michael.

  “They’re going to put me into a box?”

  Michael sighed, “It’s an express-”

  Aza laughed.

  Michael shook his head. “Cheeky.”

  “We have idioms too. Usually they can be figured out with context.”

  The covered wagon came to several stops as they rode and Michael could hear the sounds of the city around them. He wanted to peek out of the wagon covering and get a better look at everything, but he didn’t want to risk Aza. As they rode the sounds of the city gradually faded until he could only hear the occasional chest thumping salute or order from Bren. Eventually they came to a complete stop.

  The wagon covering was opened, and Bren was standing at its entrance.

  “I apologize that you were not able to see the city properly,” he said as if reading his mind. “We are planning a parade that we wish you to take part in later in the week, and for you Prince,” he bowed slightly to Aza, “We have arranged some private tours for your safety.”

  “Thank you,” said Michael.

  The man nodded and gestured for them to get out of the wagon, which they did. It took Michael’s eyes less than a second to adjust to the bright light outside of it, a side-effect of his recovery titles, and he got a good look at where they were. It was a courtyard, an absolutely massive one. There were statues of warriors and kings all around them and gardens of spectacular flowers. There was a circular stone path that led up to one of the Palace entrances. The building was enormous, but Michael couldn’t get a full understanding of its scale from where he was standing. He looked around and realized that the other covered wagons were no longer with them.

  “Where’s everyone else?” asked Ollie.

  “They were all taken to the Barracks for the evening. You, however, are the personal guests of the King.”

  Michael blinked, unsure of how to react. They’d been called to the capital almost immediately after the battle and there had been nearly two weeks for them to prepare on both sides for it. It was quite possible he’d missed this part though, given where his attention had been and Ollie wasn’t always the most observant of this type of thing either. Lance didn’t change his expression, but whether that was because he had known or a lifetime of training a noble bearing Michael couldn’t tell.

  They followed Bren into the Palace, walking over lush carpets through halls lined with rich tapestries and lit by windows of spectacular stained glass. They were led to a suite of five rooms that were next to each other, and each of them was given one. Aza’s was between Michael and Ollie's. There were guards posted at the hall leading to the rooms, but not directly outside the rooms themselves. They all wore the same dark plate that Bren was in.

  “The King would like you to join him and the Queen for dinner in a few hours. Until that time I would ask that you bathe and put on the fresh clothes that have been prepared for each of you. There will be servants coming to assist you momentarily.” He turned to Aza specifically. “In the event that the clothing and room we have provided you do not meet any specific needs of yours, please do not hesitate to let us know.”

  Aza showed his teeth in an approximation of a smile Michael had been helping him with. It still looked a bit spooky, but it was better than it had been when they’d started. “I lived chained up in a cell blinded and without a tongue for more than a year. This will be fine.”

  Bren’s face hardened a bit at that, not in anger, but as if considering the horror of such a fate.

  He recovered and looked at Lance. "The King was asked a personal favor by Lady Delia that she be allowed to see you here in the palace as soon as you arrived. He has had a separate dinner prepared for you both, as long as that is acceptable to you.”

  Lance’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “I hope that King Marlo would not take offense at me missing this initial meeting with him.”

  Bren smiled. “He is more than understanding when it comes to affairs of the heart.”

  Lance blushed, but nodded.

  Bren saluted them, bowed to the Prince, and walked away.

  Aza laughed. “Perhaps my people’s humor is not compatible with everyone here.”

  Ollie chuckled. “No mate, a lot of humans love a bit of black humor. He just seems like he isn’t one of them.”

  They went into their rooms. Michael’s was large, with a four post bed, writing desk in front of a window, a tub in the corner, and a number of collapsible room dividers and shades. He walked to the window in front of the desk and smiled. It was a view of the dock. He could see dozens of wooden ships moving in and out, loading and unloading cargo. Sails dotted the horizon like low hanging clouds and the ocean sparkled just like home. He’d made it to the palace, and was going to have a chance to talk to the King as an honored guest. Now all he needed to do was convert him to a dead religion.