@aryamajor, @Drakey
It was dark when the eggs started to hatch. Three of them, carefully set down in a nest of hay in the old barn with nothing but an oil lamp by them for warmth. The farmer's son was at hand, eyes closed and barely awake while he watched over the treasures his father had been tasked with caring for.
Their liege, Count Delinard, had brought the eggs back after a campaign against the Northern Kingdom and gave them to his serfs to care for under utmost protection. A lord with dragons at his side, trained beasts that could spew fire across the sky at his enemies, could easily be made marshal of the realm, possibly even contest the king for his rule. Needless to say, the surfs' lives were at stake if they were to fail in their task, and that meant constant supervision and protection.
The stirring of the leathery brown egg, the largest of the three, was enough to wake the boy. A half opened eye fell across the clutch, closing again just as the egg moved again, a crack forming in the shell as a clay-coloured snout poked through. Sleepily, the boy stood and stepped over from his chair to the eggs. His eyes went wide at the sight of the crack, and the others seemed to be stirring too.
"Fatha! The eggs!" The boy shouted, sprinting out from the barn back to the farmhouse.
It was dark when the eggs started to hatch. Three of them, carefully set down in a nest of hay in the old barn with nothing but an oil lamp by them for warmth. The farmer's son was at hand, eyes closed and barely awake while he watched over the treasures his father had been tasked with caring for.
Their liege, Count Delinard, had brought the eggs back after a campaign against the Northern Kingdom and gave them to his serfs to care for under utmost protection. A lord with dragons at his side, trained beasts that could spew fire across the sky at his enemies, could easily be made marshal of the realm, possibly even contest the king for his rule. Needless to say, the surfs' lives were at stake if they were to fail in their task, and that meant constant supervision and protection.
The stirring of the leathery brown egg, the largest of the three, was enough to wake the boy. A half opened eye fell across the clutch, closing again just as the egg moved again, a crack forming in the shell as a clay-coloured snout poked through. Sleepily, the boy stood and stepped over from his chair to the eggs. His eyes went wide at the sight of the crack, and the others seemed to be stirring too.
"Fatha! The eggs!" The boy shouted, sprinting out from the barn back to the farmhouse.