Orien Vathros, the great dragonling whose might would one day be heard all over Eryndra, was currently not feeling very mighty at all.
In fact, he was experiencing an existential crisis of unprecedented proportions.
Marriage?
What marriage?
Who was getting married?
And why were they saying it would be him?
"!!!"
He had too many questions. Far too many. And if not for the flimsy cloth draped over his head, preserving the last scraps of dignity he possessed, everyone present would have immediately seen just how thoroughly shell-shocked the baby dragon was.
How was he supposed to know that the red glimmering thing was proof of marriage?
How was he supposed to know that his uncle and auntie were now legally bound because of that tiny booklet?
That if they wanted people to know about their union, they could simply show it to everyone, and they would succumb to its glimmering might.
But a booklet.
That was it?
