A Proper Balance
Dragonsfall Weyr
Amber Hills Hold
Vintner Hall
Healer Hall
Hidden Meadows
Dolphin Cove Weyr
Dolphin Hall
Emerald Falls Hold
Harper Hall
Printer Hall
Green Valley Hold
Leeward Lagoon Hold
Barrier Lake Weyr
Sunstone Seahold
Citrus Bay Hold
Writers: Corrin, Heather
Date Posted: 15th February 2026
Characters: K'valdran, Saibra
Description: Saibra and K’valdran discuss his goals.
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 13, day 4 of Turn 12
Notes: K’valdran’s idea of what a “proper balance” looks like may differ from other characters.
Mentioned: G’nir, K’reyel, I’serin
“Settling in, Weyrleader?” The Weyrwoman’s throaty voice drifted from the doorway, where she leaned, looking around the office in curiosity now that I’serin’s things were gone. She remembered easily how the office had looked when G’nir had been Weyrleader, how neat and tidy things had been when K’reyel had filled the position, and then the assortment of books and maps that had filled the room while I’serin had been there.
In the span of less than a day, the room had been quietly, decisively, claimed.
The office, which had begun to resemble a reference library under I’serin, had been transformed back into the commanding audience chamber it had been in the days of the Weyrhold. A place of power as much as a place of work. The heavy desk--long since drifted according to the Turns and whims of its varied masters--stood restored at the heart of the chamber, backed by the banner of Dragonsfall.
All around the room the abundance of books and maps had been culled. The essentials remained: the codices of weyr were clearly well-read and ready-to-hand; the relevant maps of the region were arrayed neatly on a wall, aligned to be read at a glance. This was not K’valdran’s first time wearing the knots. He knew what he needed.
It was, however, his first time wearing those knots in Dragonsfall. His first time wearing--essentially if not literally--the knots his Lord Weyrholder father wore for so many Turns. After a busy day of moving and meetings and threadfall, K’valdran was finally taking a moment to ruminate on that achievement when Saibra arrived.
He rose from the desk as she entered, a glint of humor in his dark eyes. “As much as I can be, while still packing up my old weyr-- but I’m settled where it matters.” He waved a hand at the space around them. “Enough to get to work.”
“It looks good,” she said, drifting further into the room from the doorway, noting that not only had the office changed in appearance but in aura as well. “The Dragonsfall banner is especially nice, even if I’ve never been a fan of green and brown.” There was levity behind the words.
“The banner was my father’s before me. The colors of the world we protect, a reminder of our purpose,” said K’valdran gravely-- but then the corners of his eyes crinkled. “But I confess I’ve never commissioned a brown tunic.”
Saibra wouldn’t be caught dead in dreary brown. “You surely know more about Dragonsfall than I do, but is there anything you need that I can have Oselle put together for you?”
He chuckled, shaking his head, “Everyone has been more than accommodating. Between my mothers and the porters I frankly have more help than I need.”
“I think people are excited that a son of Dragonsfall has returned and taken up the Weyrleader’s place. They’re eager to see what you will do.” The Weyrwoman sank into a chair in front of K’valdran’s desk. “Speaking of which, what _do_ you plan on doing?”
K’valdran did not answer immediately. Instead, he straightened, drawing a slow, deep breath that seemed to broaden him, as though he was settling not just into the office, but into the weight of what it represented. When he looked back at Saibra, the glint of humor in his eyes had sharpened to something brighter-- conviction, tempered by purpose.
“Whether I wear the knots for a Turn or ten, my ultimate goal is the same,” he said, voice low and resonant. “I mean to see this Weyr rise to her full potential. No southern Weyr is more storied than Dragonsfall. It is here the dragonblood of the North settled and it is here that dragonkind began to return in force when the Red Star neared. Dragonsfall should be the preeminent leader of this Pass, we’ve had every advantage in training and resources and history. Dragonsfall should be synonymous with excellence, and yet-- This past Turn I’ve heard tell of multiple ‘Fall mishaps and an average casualty rate higher than the norm. To be honest, that is half of what spurred me to return. That trend must be curbed, first and foremost.”
“It has been difficult watching the Wings this past Turn,” Saibra admitted. “Arete Wing has been called upon for more catches this past Turn than any I can remember since I’ve been Weyrwoman.” The look in the new Weyrleader’s eyes sparked a bit of excitement in Saibra. The confidence that exuded from the man behind the desk made her hopeful that the next Turn would see Dragonsfall steered in a better direction.
A muscle flexed in K’valdran’s jaw. A high catch count was a statistic no one wanted to raise in a healthy Weyr. It was a symptom of deeper issues-- and endangered their precious queens. I’serin had a lot to answer for.
But K’valdran wasn’t finished.
“There’s something else too,” he said, not dropping her gaze. “Less urgent than the ‘Fall casualties, but no less important. You already touched on it-- it’s been almost a decade since a ‘Son of Dragonsfall’--one born of this place--has led the Weyr. As a result of that, or accident, or design, there are currently more foreign transfers in positions of authority than there are natives. I understand the wings were recently renamed in an effort to address some of the division in this Weyr, but this power imbalance must be addressed as well.”
“I guess being a transfer myself, I never really considered how such things might appear to those native to Dragonsfall.” None of the gold dragons currently residing at Dragonsfall were natives. Even Galgaith, while born there, was sired from Chioneth, of Far Island lineage, and Aluneth, of River Bluff.
He shifted his weight slightly, not pacing, not retreating"grounded, deliberate. “But as a weyrbrat yourself, you must know-- the lifeblood of this place isn’t the dragons, it’s the families that have served for generations. The staff that keeps this place clothed, fed, and running. The children that grew up in the creches expecting that, if they proved capable, they might one day help lead their home. That is the dream. I know, because I had it too.”
His tone gentled then-- not in weakness, but in appeal. He wasn’t railing at her. He was inviting her to align with him.
“But for Turns now at Dragonsfall, they have watched their brothers and sisters passed over while leadership is filled from elsewhere. From the headwoman, to the weyrlingmaster, to the wingleaders-- even when the decisions were justified, the pattern leaves a mark. Resentment grows, investment falters, pride fades. If Dragonsfall’s own people stop seeing a future for themselves here, our foundation will erode-- no matter how worthy or just the leadership above it. The ‘folk that call Dragonsfall home need to feel that this is still their Weyr, a place they can lead, shape, and nurture-- not merely a place they serve.
“I plan to take a hard look at the wings in the coming days,” K’valdran declared. “Firstly to address any underperformance that contributed to the recent casualty spike. Secondly, to find opportunities for native riders who are overdue them. This isn’t about shutting out transfers--they are vital in their own way--but it’s about finding a proper balance.”
The contrast between this conversation with K’valdran and the conversation she’d had with I’serin when he’d become Weyrleader was like night and day. Where I’serin had been uncertain of what to do, had considered himself inexperienced, K’valdran seemed brimming with confidence and certainty.
“Not that you need it as Weyrleader, but I will support you in whatever way I can.” A Weyrwoman was at the mercy of the Weyrleader in many ways. While she had authority over those living in the Weyr, he had authority over those who protected it.
“I may not need it, but I want it,” he said. “I would be a fool not to.”
K’valdran stepped around the desk and closed the distance between them. Ignoring the other chair set a polite distance away, he sat instead on the stout sidetable at Saibra’s elbow and took her hand. “Frankly, I may be ousted in a Turn by a rival, one who will want to reverse every change I make. But you will remain. I hope your support will too, and that you will speak and act when you can.”
Looking up at her new Weyrleader, Saibra gave his hand a warm squeeze. “My support will remain, and for what it’s worth, I hope you last more than a Turn.”
Last updated on the February 21st 2026