It is a question he has never before heard in all his life. In the world he left behind his kind are not now as numerous as they were - only the tieflings have fared worse - but even the most sheltered human peasant had a grandmother who told stories, or a cousin who claims he'd seen a passing warrior as a boy.

There is a brief pang of something in his heart that he dislikes (the little falcon tightens her grip but says nothing); he crushes the feeling at once with pride so that he will not have to consider it further. "I am a dragonborn, son of the blood of Io."