Artha was talking with Parm and Kitt. He sighed, "I just don't get what Lance is thinking anymore."

Kitt gave a thin smile, "Apparently, he thinks you're a dork."

Artha groaned, "Real funny. Like, guys, why would he play with Moordryd, that guy can barley survive level one!"

Parm looked thoughtful, "Well, it seems that the past three times you suggested it, you were doing it when Lance was either irritable, like when he's not fully awake, or when we're panicking. Basically, it seems that Lance takes that as a sign that you think he is still at the maturity level where he felt that that game would fix it all."

Artha groaned, and Kitt said, "But, he's still a kid!"

Parm nodded, "And the Lightning Booster. He expects us to treat him like we would treat each other, with respect for our abilities And, well, our concern for him overrides that, but Moordryd doesn't really have that concern, so Lance knows there won't be a point where he is asked to hang back if he goes with Moordryd."

Artha groaned and slumped, 'You sound like Mortis!"

Connor Penn leaned in, and, in his Mortis-voice, said, "Who sounds like me?" Artha sighed, "Nothing Dad, Parm's just being confusing on the Lance issue."

Connor walked out of the room, shaking his head. Moordryd had been training with Lance even before Lance got an amulet. It had driven Artha nuts, that Lance would rather train with Moordryd, who, as Artha had so eloquently put it at the time, "cold, unforgiving and merciless' in sparring with Connor's younger son.

Flashback

Lance gave a whimper, Moordryd was way to strong. But he still liked this fight; he could measure against an opponent who didn't go easy on him. He swung his staff, only to have Moordryd block it again. He gave a low growl, and tried to remember Moordryd's tips that were given after each spar. Moordryd was too quick for Lance to have a speed advantage, and strength was clearly out.

'Think!' he hissed at himself, 'What is Blue good at that Black isn't. What are you awesome at? Acrobatics! Yes, I can think on my feet!'

Lance pulled a quick flip, making Moordryd's strike miss. The pale boy spun, and got whacked in the jaw by Lance's staff. Lance flipped out of the way, and went for an identical strike, but Moordryd was ready this time. He used his own staff to flip Lance's away, and then smacked the mini-brat hard in the chest, sending him flying backwards.

Connor watched, somewhere between pleased and shocked. Lance had been progressing well since Moordryd had joined the team, and also was less hyper. Not to say Artha wasn't going to complain.

"He's just a kid Moordryd!"

Moordryd glared at the raven-haired boy, "He'll have to accept the blue gauntlet sooner or later, stable-brat. If he doesn't want to train with me, I won't stop him from that. If he wants to keep it up, you shouldn't stop him."

End Flashback

Connor sighed, that day his sons had started to grow apart. And the ravine was only widening.

Flashback

"Moor- uh, Shadow Booster, Kitt said to get to Squire's End!" Lance pressed. The Shadow Booster gave a grim nod.

"They can handle it for a few more minutes. My father is getting more powerful, the Prophets are almost out of the track according to that VIDD-mail from Reepyr, and Drakkus is showing up more often. We need all the power we can get."

End Flashback

Lance fingered his amulet halfheartedly. He had become the Lightning Booster a few minutes after that conversation, and they had stopped the Dragon Flares who were causing trouble because of an argument with The Grip of the Dragon. He and Moordryd had come to the rescue, and Lance was part of his first real battle. But the next battle was worse, the battle with Artha.

Flashback

"Lance, I can't believe you put yourself ahead of the city!" Artha yelled. "We told you two to come immediately, and you decide what you wanted was more important!"

Lance quivered, and Moordryd narrowed his eyes, "We were thinking long-run Penn. Mini-brat needs to learn how to use that power."

Artha hissed, "So this was your idea? I am sick of you poisoning Lance with your twisted ideas, Payyn!"

Lance leaped up, "Oh, because I'm such a little kid that one month with a new guy will brainwash me? So I've learned a few things, so what Artha? So what?"

End Flashback

Lance sighed. To this day, he did not have the answer.

Moordryd, sound asleep in his bed across the room, was having a dream that was of a conversation he had had with Connor Penn, about two months earlier.

Flashback

"Why are you okay with it?"

Connor glanced up in shock, he hadn't seen Moordryd there. He chuckled, "You're up late Moordryd. And okay with what?"

"Me training Lance. I know you're everybody's official trainer, but when you have to go off with one of the other three, and Lance and I start rough sparring, and you know what I mean by rough, Artha goes bonkers and you don't seem to mind."

Connor shook his head, "Because you teach at the speed Lance learns. Never tell anyone, not even Lance this, but Artha's a bit jealous."

"Of who? Me or Lance?"

"Both." Connor said. "Moordryd, when I was Mortis I did this to Artha a few times, and now I'll do it to you. I'm not addressing you as a teen right now, but as a man. Artha is jealous of you because he secretly always wanted to teach Lance, but when he tried, Lance hated that Artha went easy on him. He's also jealous of Lance because Lance's mentor, you, is rarely in a 'you're not ready to learn this' state. You are very advanced Moordryd Payyn, and Lance learns well from you. I like that you teach him."

Moordryd smiled, "Thank you sir. That means a lot, coming from a Dragon-Priest."

Connor nodded, "Now then, what else, oh yes! Get in bed before I ground you mister!"

End Flashback

Moordryd rolled over and woke up. He glanced over at Lance, who was still up on his cot. Sometimes he felt like he had been unofficially adopted by the Penns. He and Lance got on well; he respected Connor a good deal, up to the point of feeling pride at compliments from the man, and had, though on pain of death he still wouldn't admit it, a bit of grudging respect for Artha Penn, save for when the guy flew off the handle.

Moordryd smirked at that little thought, and then curled up again, willing both himself and Lance to get some sleep.