Part 7: A Reason to Fight
Ishton paced back and forth across the marble tiled hallway, too immersed in his thoughts to notice the grand, draconic interior architecture of the auxiliary council chambers that now acted as the temporary office of the newfound ruler of the Dramon Empire. His cape fluttered and his plated armour rattled with each light step. The two Examon guards, standing on each side of the door in front of him, regarded him with some irritation.
"Sixty one percent to thirty nine percent," he thought to himself, remembering the percentage of votes between the two candidates. "Well, I suppose this was to be expected, given his support. No matter. He may be leader, but he's still as dim as he always was. I'll have him in the palm of my hand after this meeting."
The Slayerdramon finally stopped pacing and looked behind him, down the long, great hall leading to the exit of the chambers. "Torrington tells me that the Slayer Legion is moving along quickly. He said Wromthrax told him the Palaeozoic Sovereignty still hasn't mobilized against them. Foolish dinosaurs; that's what happens when your empire is so centralised around your capital in such a vast region. There's slow communication," he thought with a light grin. He covered his brief emotion and turned back to the guards with a level stare. "How long must I wait? Did I mention it was important?"
"Until our new Emperor is ready for you," the Examon on the left explained, staring firmly at him. "He has a lot of things to do, having only become our leader a few days ago."
"Very well," Ishton said with a roll of his eyes.
The plate-clad Slayerdramon was about to turn back around but the sound of a door creaking open echoed through the hallway, catching his attention.
"You may enter now, High Lieutenant Kirzarv," the guard on the right spoke after receiving a nod from a digimon inside.
Ishton nodded and stepped forwards towards the massive dual doors, one of which was open a crack. He stopped in between the two guards, who turned with him in order to escort him in. The Slayerdramon closed his eyes. "Don't overact," he told himself. He then opened his gold eyes, showing himself with an anxious expression.
The dragon opened the doors and walked into the room with a brisk, worried stride. "M-My lord!" he uttered, rushing across the marble floor of the wide room. The space was tall enough to fit a MetalSeadramon, as the room was previously a council chamber and, as such, had to be able to house the biggest of dragon digimon.
When Ishton hurried forward, the two Examon guards instinctively raised their lances as precautions, but relaxed when Ishton fell to a knee, his head bowed. Several metres in front of him was a large wooden desk littered with papers, scrolls, baubles and an ornamental crown made of gold digizoid, fashioned with various gems and lined with other colourful digizoids.
"Rise," a growly voice spoke from the other side of the desk.
Ishton raised his head tentatively, fear still present in his deliberately widened eyes. "High King...?" he asked questioningly.
Standing over the other side of the desk was a Dorbickmon, grinning slightly as he observed Ishton. With a warm but victorious smirk, he stood with his back to an open window, allowing the light of the sun to shine on his back and spikes from behind. On each of the two discs on his pectoral muscles was the emblem of the Dramon Empire, officialising his status.
"High King Duroth. Duroth R'Daruuk. The new emperor of the Dramon Empire..." he thought as he observed the triumphant red dragon. "You managed to defeat Jormungand in the election, just barely. Even after Jormungand demanded two recounts performed by the other councillors, you were shown to be the winner."
"Please, that title is subject to change, soldier," Duroth explained, observing the Slayerdramon. "I'm not comfortable with the distance it puts between myself and the everyday Dramon. Just call me - hrm - 'High Councilor', if I have to have a title. It was digimon like you who allowed me to be standing here today, after all."
"Right, m-my apologies," Ishton said, standing to his feet before the victorious Dorbickmon. For good measure he bowed his head again. "High Councilor."
Ishton then turned to the MailBirdramon standing off to the side of the desk, who was eyeing him carefully. "Lord Protector Arado," he greeted quickly, again bowing his head for Duroth's second-in-command. "Congratulations to the both of you."
Arado smiled. "Why thank you. I just hope I do as good a job as my predecessor," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he recalled the Imperialdramon known as Imego, who held the position until he committed triple regicide and took control of the Dramon Empire for himself. "They are indeed tough boots to fill... especially given the shape of my talons and Imego's rather feminine shoe size," he joked.
The Slayerdramon let out a slight, nervous chuckle but turned back to Duroth with the utmost seriousness.
Duroth studied him. "High Lieutenant Ishton Kirzarv. Did I get that right?" he asked. Ishton responded with a nod before he continued. "What was this urgent meeting about?"
"Yes, you seem flustered," Arado noted calmly.
"I am, my lord," Ishton responded, keeping focus on Duroth. He finally glanced into Arado's yellow eyes. Ishton knew about the MailBirdramon's cunning and intelligence. He felt it was far too risky to keep him in the room. "I mean no disrespect, Lord Protector, but may I please speak to High Councillor Duroth in private?"
Arado's voice remained stoic and he eyed Duroth cooly. "Anything you have to say to Duroth, you can say it in front of me. If it really is urgent, I feel that I, as Lord Protector, have a right to know what it is," he explained.
Ishton stifled a wince but nodded, not wanting to push his luck or else he may come off as suspicious. "Of course, Lord Protector. My apologies," he replied in a humbled voice.
Despite this, Duroth gave Arado a look, telling him that it would be alright. "It's okay, Ishton," he said. "Please, Arado. If you don't mind excusing us..."
Arado looked at Duroth in surprise, wondering why he didn't want him present for their talk. Nevertheless, he nodded slightly. "Very well, Duroth," he said. "If you need me, I'll be right outside..."
Ishton inwardly grinned at his luck and stepped aside, making room for the large, draconic jet digimon to pass him. The MailBirdramon looked over his wing as the two Examon guards opened the doors for him to walk through. Arado then disappeared from sight as the doors closed as soon as his clawed tail was safely past the door.
"Please, continue," Duroth urged the seemingly nervewracked Slayerdramon.
"High Councillor. Sire. It's the worst possible scenario," Ishton explained gravely, grimacing before willing himself to look straight in Duroth's eyes with steely determination. "It's the Palaeozoic Sovereignty! They've attacked us, Duroth!" he said with the utmost disdain and passion.
"What?" Duroth demanded incredulously.
"In the south," Ishton explained, his jagged teeth beared. "I don't know what happened! My unit was assigned to the Palaeozoic border in the south, in case there was a counterattack. We didn't think there would ever be a counterattack there so things were pretty easygoing, but then..." He shut his eyes. "I came back here as quickly as I could to tell you. I just hope my comrades aren't hurt."
"The Palaeozoic Sovereignty attacked?" the Dorbickmon demanded, clenching his fist. "Without a declaration of war? Right after we signed a peace treaty?"
"I can't imagine what they're thinking. I just don't understand why," Ishton said with a maudlin sigh. "Maybe it was so that we would let our guards down so they could ambush us. I'm deeply ashamed to say that it worked..."
"This can't be," the High Councilor hissed, bowing his head. He glanced up at Ishton. "I must open dialogues with King Aegyptu at once and find out what's going on."
"Excuse me if I'm speaking out of turn, sire, but is that a good idea? Knowing the dinosaurs, and this is coming from somebody who has been in the Palaeozoic Sovereignty several times, they'd probably kill any messenger they send. And King Aegyptu is as stubborn and proud as they come. He may deny the allegations outright. Or even more disturbing, it may be a separate faction within the Palaeozoic Sovereignty who attacked us. Either way, I saw the way they fought. They want to finish us off for good and I heard one of them roar something about attacking any Dramon Empire city they came across. They want to raze our whole kingdom to the ground!" Ishton explained fierily.
"This is... disturbing news indeed," Duroth said, turning his back to Ishton and looking out the giant window behind him. "You do have a point... if what you're saying is true."
"You don't believe me, my lord?" Ishton asked, sounding hurt, though on the inside, he felt a nervous tightness.
Duroth looked over his spike-laden shoulder with a slight, reassuring grin. "It's not necessarily that, High Lieutenant. It's just that what you're saying conflicts with something else I've heard."
"I swear on my honour as a Dramon that I'm telling the truth!" Ishton insisted. "May I ask what you've heard?"
The Dorbickmon turned around fully and gazed at Ishton. "A prisoner by the name of Erebus Artorius told me that you came to him saying that you wanted his help attacking the rebels. I was wondering about the legitimacy of this statement."
For the briefest of moments, Ishton's eyes hardened and it took all of his willpower to keep himself from swearing. Instead he raised an eyebrow and widened his eyes. "I what? I would never. I've been on border patrol ever since a few days after the final battle of the Civil War! That bloody Cyberdramon and his grudge."
"Grudge?" Duroth asked. "So you two know each other."
"We do... Sometime before Erebus' incarceration our units were combined under Gotungir's command. I received a rather questionable order and had to relay it to the troops," he explained, his scales crawling at the fact that he was forced to speak ill of his deceased friend and master. "Erebus refused to comply with it so I had to make an example of him; if I didn't beat him, the other soldiers would think it would be okay to disobey orders whenever they pleased. In the army, following orders is a necessity."
"I see..." the red dragon replied, closing his eyes in thought. "So because of this, he has a grudge against you?"
Ishton nodded, flicking his armoured tail irritably. "Besides, even if that blatant lie were true, the Palaeozoic Sovereignty are not the rebels. True, we attacked them and lost, but if anybody wanted to make such an ideological statement in attacking another nation, I would think the best way would be to attack the rebels themselves, or better yet, the Avengers," he said, before adding, "hypothetically speaking, of course."
"You do have a point, Ishton," Duroth said with a grimace. "We're under attack by the Palaeozoic Sovereignty... I need to consult with the Council about this."
"I feel it's my duty to tell you about how little time there is, High Councillor," Ishton implored. "They were already headed straight for Drakennear in the south when my comrades counterattacked and started to push them back into the desert. I don't know how long they'll last... especially with the Palaeozoic reinforcements that are bound to come."
The Dorbickmon snarled lowly. "What would you suggest I do then?"
Ishton smirked very faintly. "All we can do is retaliate," he explained grimly. "Given the strength of the Palaeozoic Sovereignty, we would need to send most of our air forces and ground forces. Perhaps even the navy too."
Duroth narrowed his eyes at him. "After all I did for peace, now I have to send our people back into the flames of war?" he growled.
"I'm sorry this happened," the Slayerdramon apologized, bowing his head. "But if we don't defend ourselves, they will crush us mercilessly. Not just our soldiers, but our civilians and cities as well... I have heard that the only just reason to fight is fighting in the defence of another. Is it wrong if we want to defend our friends and loved ones from these invaders?"
"Damn it," Duroth spoke, closing his eyes. "What good can war possibly bring? Why does everybody make it so hard for us to live in peace? This has to change..."
Ishton nodded solemnly. "I agree; we have already lost so many..."
After several moments, Duroth opened his crimson eyelids and locked his violet irises with Ishton. "So, High Lieutenant, you're positive we need whole armies for this?"
"Unfortunately, yes. As much as we can spare without weakening the defence of our empire," Ishton explained, his heart pumping excitedly.
Duroth sighed deeply and walked around his desk, striding up to Ishton. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Ishton," he said with a mournful smile. "I will talk to the higher echelon of the military... And we will send an army as soon as we can."
The Dorbickmon grimaced and outstretched a hand to the Slayerdramon. "For the defence of a brighter tomorrow... Maybe one day we can all live a happy life... Wouldn't that be nice, High Lieutenant?"
Ishton gripped his hand firmly, looking at Duroth with an equally bitter smile. "I can't think of anything better, High Councillor..."
-
A breeze swept across the desert of the Palaeozoic Sovereignty like waves on an ocean. Uplifted granules blew across the waiting ranks of the Slayer Legion. They stood behind the crest of a large dune that spanned several hundred metres and stood at about twenty metres high. On the other side of the dune, in the near distance, was another small village that stood in their way.
Drykar the Deckerdramon remained still as grains of sand blew off the summit of the dune and peppered his face. His red eyes winced slightly and he couldn't help but look at the Lex, the Agumon and sole survivor of the last village they crossed through. The young dinosaur clung close to him, as Lex was too scared of the others to do anything else but be close to the giant draconic crocodile, who he felt some comfort in. Drykar felt this bitterly ironic, as it was he who launched half of the missiles that destroyed Lex's father and village. The guilt from that attack still remained in his heart.
Beside him, balancing on the incline of the dune was Tartarus and Wromthrax. The buff Paildramon folded his arms and looked at Drykar and Wromthrax. "I say we blow the village to smithereens like the other one," he said with a grin.
Drykar frowned at the idea. "No, we should just bypass it. We'll go around it," he insisted.
Wromthrax shook his head. "We can't let anybody report back to the capital," the Examon said in agreement with Tartarus.
The Deckerdramon grit his set of giant, jagged teeth, wanting nothing more than to avoid a repeat of last time. "They aren't soldiers in these villages. They're civilians!" he said, gesturing to Lex.
Tartarus' facial features darkened as he bowed his head to stare at Drykar. "This is a war. As a former high ranking Dramon Empire officer, I thought you knew that."
Drykar glared at the proto-super soldier out of his left eye. "That doesn't mean we have to become war criminals!"
"You're awfully soft for someone who actively joined to destroy the rebels," Tartarus retorted.
"I didn't know that the term 'rebels' had extended to anybody who's isn't a Dramon. Civilian or not," Drykar snarled at him.
The Paildramon chuckled and spat into the sand. "What do you care? You were able to roast that last village just fine. All you do is bombard them from a distance. Cold, detached, long range bombardment. It's not like you have to gut them face to face like I would, watching their blood and data spill out of them and their life slip away," he said, eyeing Lex as he did, causing the Agumon to squeak and hug closer to Drykar.
Drykar growled at him in warning, exhaust coming from the two pipes on his hind legs as his anger rose.
Tartarus smirked and looked back at the Deckerdramon. "If it bugs you that much, you can close your eyes as we pass through the rubble. All you need to do is blow it up."
Lex looked up at Drykar tearfully. He noticed, but the copper-coloured Dramon chose to remain professional. "No," he replied, not allowing all of the watching Dramon eyes persuade him one way or the other. "It's a waste of time and my energy and it serves no purpose to our overall objectives."
"I'm Ishton's second-in-command, so while he's not here, you do what I say," Tartarus warned.
"I categorically refuse," Drykar spoke, his deep voice unwavering.
Tartarus glared at him with blood red eyes, but finally smirked and shrugged. "Whatever. We still have another Deckerdramon who can do it. Argo, bombard it!" he commanded the Deckerdramon slightly farther down the ranks.
"Hold on just a secon-" Drykar protested, but he was cut off when Argo opened up the ports on his back.
"Yes sir!" the lower rank Deckerdramon responded. "Deckerdra-Launcher!"
Drykar watched helplessly as a salvo of missiles erupted from Argo's back, flying over the dune and landing in the village in a continuous stream. Smoke from the launching missiles swept through the ranks perched behind the large dune. As the thunder of explosions reverberated through the ground and air, Lex whimpered and clutched Drykar's left foreleg tightly. Drykar shut his eyes tightly and bowed his head. "We're no better than them... We've become the monsters..." he thought ruefully.
Over the explosions, he could hear the sound of laughing. He opened his eyes and looked up to see Tartarus standing on the top of the dune, watching the explosions rip through the buildings. His laugh was of one who lived for war and killing, each battle fueling his adrenaline and allowing him to feel useful and on top of the world.
The Deckerdramon glared at the proto super soldier. "Tartarus Dreadmor... I despise people like you."
Finally the salvo ended and smoke rose into the sunny sky behind the large Paildramon's silhouette. Tartarus turned around with a wide grin. "Time to get moving, guys. We'll make camp in an hour."
With those words, the Slayer Legion moved out. Drykar lowered his snout and let the Agumon climb on. "Come on, Lex," he said with a sigh. "Focus on the back of my head. We're moving out." The Deckerdramon then spun his treads and climbed up the dune.
"All in the name of vengeance..."
-
Later that day, when the sun was beginning to touch the horizon, two azure blurs whipped across the orange desert sky. Ishton flapped the large blue wings of his Wingdramon form, enjoying the warm breeze against his scales while he could. He and his companion, the UlforceVeedramon known as Torrington who was messenger between Ishton and the Slayer Legion, flew through the desert of the Palaeozoic Sovereignty at extreme speeds as they made their way from the southeastern border of the Dramon Empire.
"This is the right direction?" Ishton asked his messenger curiously, overjoyed that the sun over the Palaeozoic Sovereignty was setting in time for him to meet up with the others.
Torrington nodded. "I'm positive, Ishton. They set up camp for the night," he replied.
"I see," the Wingdramon replied, soaring with proud determination. At the speed the both of them were flying, it only took them a couple hours to fly from the Dramon capital. However, they were beginning to slow down so they didn't accidentally miss their comrades.
"What are we going to do when we meet up with them?" the cobalt dragon man asked.
Ishton flapped his great wings again and turned his long necked head towards Torrington. "Let them rest. They've all been working hard, I'm sure. We all need to be in top shape for the coming battles. I just hope they've posted sentries."
"Does that answer your question?" Torrington asked, pointing forward.
Ishton looked ahead and saw an Examon flying towards them, his lance at the ready. Against the deep orange light the two recognized him to be Wromthrax. "Dragon," Wromthrax spoke, issuing the secret challenge.
"Sand," Ishton replied, answering the code word to confirm his identity. He then digivolved into his armoured Slayerdramon form as Wromthrax lowered his weapon and grew closer.
"Ishton. It is you," he greeted.
"You're on sentry duty?" Ishton asked, shaking his claw.
Wromthrax nodded. "We set up camp for the night. No campfires though."
The blue dragon nodded and gestured for his companion, Torrington, to go join the others. "How is everything going?"
"Smoothly," the red drake replied. "Everything's going according to our strategy. That said, we have yet to encounter any actual elements of the Palaeozoic Sovereignty's military. I'm a bit worried."
"That they're setting up an ambush?" Ishton asked. "I don't think that's the case. This desert is vast and most of the population lives in or around the capital, so communication is poor. They probably have their guards down thinking they're safe after that peace treaty has been signed."
"Perhaps," Wromthrax said, flying alongside him down to the others members of the Slayer Legion. "How did your visit with Duroth go?" he asked, speaking the Dorbickmon's name with some disdain.
Ishton smiled reassuringly. "Just as planned," he answered. "I convinced him to send an army as soon as possible."
The Examon smiled. "Were there any set backs?"
"Only one. It was my fault for being greedy. I shouldn't have tried to talk to that Erebus Artorius. He ended up blabbing to Duroth about my intentions, but I managed to convince the fool that Erebus just had a grudge towards me."
"Excellent work," Wromthrax commended. "Our Legion's morale will definitely increase knowing that we have the Dramon Empire behind us. You must be tired. Why don't you go get some food and rest. You'll need plenty of both; as dimwitted as they are, the dinosaurs won't stay blind to this forever."
Ishton nodded and swooped down, landing on the ground not far from the other Dramon. They had set up camp around a medium-sized oasis that sat between two tall dunes, which enclosed the pond and foliage. The dragon man looked around, disturbed by a feeling of nostalgia. "This place seems familiar...! This is where I met those two dinosaurs. Ranney and Strom. ...With Master Gotungir..." he thought, his gold eyes grimacing at the memory. He sighed and sat down against a palm tree away from the main group, not in the mood to be bombarded with questions. "Anyways, I need to get some rest. All that acting tired me out."
Little did he know, he and his men were being watched from a cloud above.
-
Strom lay on his bed – or what passed for a bed, according to him – in his barracks room. The torches on the wall flickered as the sun continued to set outside, giving him enough light to see what he was doing without being bright enough to blind anyone who might come inside. Also resting on the fabric of the bed were several maps splayed out in front of Strom. They were mostly of the Palaeozoic Sovereignty. On several of the maps were rocks and pebbles. His scaly brows were furrowed deep thought as he pondered them, doing his best to ignore the merry ruckus coming from outside of his room.
"If the enemy were to attack this formation from this direction, then it would be best to have this team pull back while the Pteramon squad attacked from above and the third land team circles around from the right. But... tactics mean jackshit if they don't listen to me and follow orders. With Barik always undermining me and badmouthing me behind my back, they'll never respect me as a Field Officer," he thought to himself.
As he focused on the maps, he heard a pair of relatively light (for a dinosaur digimon) and clumsy pair of footsteps and a tapping sound after each step. He knew exactly who it was but he didn't turn around from his maps.
"Hey, Strommy! What are you doing?" Ranney asked, grinning as he walked in and looked over Strom's spiked shoulder. "Maps? That's no fun. Come out and join the festivities with the rest of us! The fifth Pteramon squad is having a drinking competition! One of them threw up on Raizer's foot!"
"Maybe later, Ranney," Strom replied, glancing over at the green dinosaur out of the corner of his eye. "I'm a bit busy right now."
"With what?" the DinoRexmon questioned playfully.
"Theoretical tactics. Braon always made me practice with these. It forces me to react to different environments and situation-"
"Yeah, yeah," Ranney interrupted. "You can do that anytime though! Come and have fun with us!"
"I'll pass," muttered the Spinomon.
The DinoRexmon raised an eyebrow. "...You're not scared of Barik, are you?" he asked with a slight grin.
Strom turned to Ranney with a bland expression. "Ranney, I stood up to Imego's Kaiser Mode; I'm not scared of a lizard who's a little bit bigger than me."
"Fine," Ranney answered. "If you say so..." The smaller raptor-like dinosaur then noticed the plate of food beside Strom's bed. On the plate was a bowl with meat stew in it. It was still over half full and there was no longer steam rising from it. "You've barely touched your supper. Don't tell me you got spoiled with exotic foods over with the Rebels."
"Huh?" Strom asked. He looked over to the bowl. "Oh, uh, no. I guess I forgot about it. You can have it if you want."
Ranney looked at the bowl, his mouth salivating at the prospect. He was about to reach for it but he shut his eyes and retracted his claws. "No. You eat it. You need your strength. Eat it now or I'll toast those maps of yours."
The Spinomon shot him an annoyed look but complied, reluctantly taking the bowl and pouring the chunky, luke-warm stew into his toothy maw.
"You shouldn't isolate yourself, Strom," Ranney said with a sigh.
Strom rolled his eyes. "Who says I'm doing that?"
"I'm just saying that you shouldn't put up walls between you and your soldiers. You need to bond with them if you want them to respect you. Otherwise you're just some blowhard who orders them around," Ranney explained. "That's why I'm out there drinking with them. That and it's fun!"
Strom groaned slightly, though he acknowledged that Ranney had a point... much to his surprise. "Do I have to?"
Ranney smirked and nodded. "I'll drag you out if I have to."
The orange and beige spinosaurus glugged down the rest of his soup, nearly choking on one of the hearty pieces of meat at one point, and stood to his feet with an air of defeat. "Fiiine. You win. If only so you won't nag me."
Beaming, the DinoRexmon nudged Strom's side with his head, ushering him towards the door. The two walked out into the recreational part of the barracks where about fifty Palaeozoic digimon of various shapes and sizes were drinking, socializing and having fun in general. Ranney looked at Strom expectantly and decided to speak up. "Okay! Two rounds for us!"
Barik glanced over and snorted a bit upon seeing Ranney with Strom. "You sure Strom can handle it, sir?" he asked Ranney.
Ranney grinned competitively. "I bet he could drink you under the table, Barik," he retorted playfully.
"I'm not drinking myself stupid, Ranney," Strom mumbled.
"It's okay, Strom; you're already stupid!" Ranney said with a smile.
The Spinomon shot him a glare and picked up one of the two wooden kegs that was rolled over to them. Ranney ripped off the top of his own keg with his teeth and picked the barrel up in his mouth, glugging it down.
As he opened his own keg, Strom observed Ranney with amusement. "And I'm the idiot," he said before pouring some of the alcohol into his mouth.
Strom looked around and saw several drunken Pteramon attempting to race each other in the large barracks which ended up with them crashing into the walls, each other or other digimon. He grinned a bit and looked at Ranney. "Hey, I thought Sarki was in the Fifth Squadron," he said. "I don't see him here."
Ranney frowned and thought, remembering Strom occasionally talking with that Pteramon since coming back to the Sovereignty. "Oh, I think he was sent out on a patrol to the west. There were a few rumours about something or other and he was supposed to check it out."
"Gotcha," the Spinomon replied, downing more of the liquid. He was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol kicking in, the numb, tingling sensation in his head being a telltale sign. "With my luck, I bet we're going to have training tomorrow morning. We'll be nice and hungover for that."
"Aww, who caressss?" Ranney said, his voice beginning to slur. "You think too much, Strommy-wommy!"
The bladed dinosaur laughed and lightly punched him on the top of his head. "And you don't think enough. By the way, never call me that again. Ever. If any of the others heard, I'd never live it down."
"Live what down?" Barik asked, stumbling over unevenly. The larger Spinomon grinned at him. "The way you and your Rebel buddies got trounced saving the Alphamon bigwig from the Dramon capital?"
Strom's smile disappeared and his expression soured angrily. "What was that?" he demanded irately.
Barik laughed and wrapped his arm around Strom's neck roughly, headlocking him. "Oh, sorry, is that a sore spot with you, sir?"
"Right. Because you're so capable. You would have had Imego and his Kaiser Mode begging for mercy if you had been there," Strom growled, trying to wrench out of the Spinomon's hold. "Let go of me."
"You're awfully high on yourself now that you're one of the Avengers," Barik said, gritting his teeth a bit. "You think you're so much better than us, don't you?"
"Barik..." Ranney warned.
Strom growled and ripped his head out of Barik's headlock, his two horns managing to cut into his aggressor's orange scales as he did. Barik clutched his bleeding forearm and swore in pain. Strom narrowed his eyes at him. "The only one here I think I'm better than is you, Field Trooper Kur," he said to Barik, gritting his teeth, but smiling defiantly to annoy the Spinomon further. "But I'm sure even newborn digimon feel that way too."
Barik snarled and lashed out, driving his fist into Strom's snout. Strom saw a flash of red and then felt blinding pain as he staggered backwards into the thick stone wall. His eyes watered on reflex as his snout throbbed and his nostrils bled. Strom slumped to the floor and grimaced.
"Barik Kur! Strom's a superior officer!" Ranney tried to yell, but his voice was drowned out by the drunken chanting of 'FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!'
The chanting increased as Strom stood to his feet unevenly and raised his drooping neck, his dagger-like teeth bared and his eyes narrowed. Barik grinned and readied his claws, seeing if Strom would counterattack. He was quite confident with the power of his punch and he was sure he would be able to beat the Spinomon.
"What's wrong? Don't think you can beat me?" Barik asked with confidence soaking his voice. "I didn't think an Avenger would be afraid. I'm going to prove that you're not fit to- ARF!"
Barik let out a winded gasp as Strom charged him and drove his head into his chest. Laughs and cheers erupted as Strom landed on his opponent and started laying into him with his fists. The larger Spinomon grunted and swore but retaliated with punches of his own.
"Guys! Stop! Aw crap!" Ranney yelled, only to find his voice once again smothered by laughter and the chant of 'FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!'
Strom growled and grabbed Barik's neck with one claw and beat him with the other, some of his punches missing due to the alcohol. In turn, Barik punched Strom in the face and delivered a particularly painful knee to between Strom's legs as they scuffled and brawled on the floor.
Ranney watched the two fight with a defeated expression, knowing all too well that he wouldn't be able to break them up. He knew for certain that he'd just be dragged into it if he tried to stop them anyways.
"Well... We're gonna be in trouble anyways. Let's start betting! Tomorrow's meal says Strom wins! Come on, Strommy, kick his ass!"
Frantic, rugged breaths heaved from the dragon's nostrils as he flapped his great, mighty cobalt wings furiously. Each hurried flap buffeted the street several feet below, uplifting small clouds of dirt and dust. He sucked oxygen needily into his parched mouth and focused solely on what was ahead of him and what was behind him.
"Get him! Hurry!" a voice roared from behind him.
Sill hearing the beating of several wings following him, the azure drake banked to the left, flying up a street between rows of tall, stone houses, the architecture decorated with claw-like outcroppings. Down this street, he was protected from the sun that beat down on the vast city by the tall buildings that cast their shadows over him. His blue scales no longer glistened in the rays and he felt slightly less exposed down this route.
The Wingdramon craned his long neck behind him and saw four mega level Dramon digimon in heated pursuit. He swore in a weak, raspy voice and turned back forwards, his orange hair blowing in the wind as he righted himself.
"I can't let them get me," he muttered before giving a hard flap of his wings and darting to the right down another road.
He pushed the flying green form of a Coredramon out of the way immediately upon turning the corner. He needed all the space he could get to fly with his relatively large body and wide wingspan. Even one obstacle getting in his way could lead to his capture. The blue dragon whipped his tail behind him and soared between the buildings of the Dramon Empire's capital.
"After him!" one of his pursuers shouted. "Cut him off! Get one of the other guards to get a net!"
The Wingdramon winced and tried to hurry his flight, but found it extremely difficult. His body ached all over and he felt drained. He even resorted to flapping with the wings protruding from his forearms, as ridiculous as it made him look. While he had a decent lead, he knew he couldn't outfly them forever.
"Need to escape somehow... If I could just hide somewhere... I'm so bloody thirsty..." the Dramon thought.
"All civilians clear the area until we get him!" one of the draconic voices shouted from behind.
The Wingdramon growled and saw another street branching off to the left up ahead. He put all of his might into his wings. He just needed to widen the gap between himself and them...
With an agile twist of his body and a flap of the wings on his back, he shot down the street. As soon as he turned the corner, disappearing from the guards' sight, his face lit up with hope. The Wingdramon saw a balcony on the large house to his right and behind the balcony was an opening that led inside.
"There's my chance to escape!" he thought, grinning as he flew towards it.
He dug his claws into the balcony's stone railing and pushed off, flying into the open window. His wings, dorsal spike, and legs got jammed in the opening that was obviously not built for a digimon of his body size. Nevertheless, he persisted in his struggle. The dragon dug his claws into the inside wall as he tried to pull himself into the house. He let out a slight growl of pain as his wings bent back, but he finally managed to squeeze in. With the sudden freedom of making it past the opening, he tumbled to the stone floor, landing in an unceremonious heap.
A dirty cloth bag slipped off of his large spike and toppled onto the floor, spilling its contents. Several rolls of bread and a large slab of meat rolled out of the bag. The Wingdramon sighed in relief and crawled forward on his claws and knees, beginning to gather the items while still being mindful of the guards that chased him.
It was then that he noticed a pair of blue, metal boots standing before him. His heart froze with fear and he slowly raised his head to look up. A similarly azure dragon man adorned with majestic armour and a large 'V' on his chest stood before him, looking down at him with a level gaze. The Wingdramon's eyes widened upon setting eyes on the UlforceVeedramon.
"Wh-Who are...?" he asked, fear in his voice but his heart already anticipating defeat.
"My name is Gotungir," the UlforceVeedramon informed, folding his arms across his chest. He paused for a moment and heard the frantic shouts of the guards outside.
"Where did the thief fly off to?" a voice demanded from outside the large, comfortable house.
The Wingdramon winced and bowed his head.
Gotungir unfolded his arms and toyed with the V-Bracelet on his right arm, which was capable of activating a beam sabre. "And I'm also a high ranking officer in the military... much like the guards out there," he informed him matter-of-factly. "This food you have here isn't yours, is it...?"
The dragon's body ached all over. He was both physically and emotionally exhausted. His wings felt like they were about to give out, his stomach growled hungrily, his mouth longed for a drop of saliva and his ray of hope was stamped into nothingness by the realisation that he just flew into the house of a Dramon officer. There was nothing he could do now and he knew it. He couldn't hope to fight back against the mega level digimon and he couldn't even muster the strength or willpower to even try to escape again. He knew this was the end for him.
The Wingdramon's face tensed up and he broke down into tears. The frustration, sorrow and sense of defeat were too much for him to handle in the state he was in and he just couldn't hold it in any longer. His wings and tail drooped and he sobbed, overwhelmed by it all. Tears trickled down the silver helmet that rested on the upper half of his face and dripped onto the stone floor.
"I'll take that as a yes," Gotungir calmly said with a raised eyebrow. He bent down and picked up one of the rolls of bread, tossing it up and down in his hand for a few moments as he watched the Wingdramon cry. Despite the dragon's emotions, the UlforceVeedramon remained stoic, almost aloof. "...I've told you my name. What's your's?"
The Wingdramon looked up slightly with gold eyes which were glazed with a red hue. As miserable as he felt, he figured he didn't have anything to lose by answering. "I-Ishton," the twenty year old Wingdramon snivelled. "Ishton Kirzarv..."
"Well, Ishton, stand up straight and stop crying. You're a Dramon; show some pride," the dragon man said sternly before taking a bite out of the roll in his hand.
Ishton sniffed and wiped his eyes with his arm before standing shakily to his feet. Gotungir studied him carefully, looking him over.
"You're incredibly skinny," he remarked, pointing to Ishton's seemingly sucked in, practically concave gut. "Is that why you stole this food?"
The Wingdramon sniffled again and bowed his head at the shorter digimon. "I-I'm starving... And I don't have any money... J-Just needed enough to get by for a few more days..." he murmured guiltily.
Gotungir stroked his pointed chin as he observed the depleted dragon. "How long have you gone without food for?" he probed, trying to get his side of the story before doing anything rash.
"A few days..." Another tear dripped down his face. "I won't resist when you take me to prison..."
Gotungir remained silent, staring at him studiously. Finally, he nodded understandingly. "Who says you need to go to prison?" he asked.
Ishton looked up at him in surprise. "What?"
The UlforceVeedramon smiled a bit and placed his hands on his hips. "It's obvious that you're only a thief out of sheer necessity and I can understand your plight. Ergo, I won't turn you in... under the following circumstances. You must get a job in the military and you have to do whatever I say. Hmm... I'm guessing you don't have anywhere to stay, am I wrong?" he asked, his voice calm.
"I... I..." Ishton stammered, still in shock.
"In that case, you may stay with me, provided that you do those two things and also take daily baths; you smell dreadful. Do we have a deal, Ishton?" he asked, smirking a bit. Gotungir didn't mind having somebody around. Sure, Ishton was a thief, but Gotungir was confident in his ability to read people. If Ishton had a home, a job and support, there would be no reason for him to try anything. "One thing though, if you do want to try anything funny, think again; I would slice your wings into new curtains faster than you could blink an eye. Understood?"
A few pair of tears trickled down Ishton's face, his features revealing his graciousness. He bowed his head. "Y-Yes! Thank you so much, Master!" he sputtered.
Gotungir blinked, tinted a bit and raised an eyebrow. "M-Master?"
Ishton nodded rapidly. "You saved me, Gotungir. I owe you my life," he told him. "I'll do whatever you want. Thank you so much for this!"
The UlforceVeedramon grinned slightly and walked over, placing a hand on the top of Ishton's head, gently. "Just don't call me that too often; I'm only a few years older than you, it looks like. Besides, I wouldn't be an exceptional Dramon if I just let you starve to death. Have a hot bath while I prepare some food. I'll take care of your enlistment tomorrow."
"Thank you..." Ishton whispered, pressing against Gotungir's hand as his eyes closed in exhaustion. "Thank you, Master..." He then collapsed forwards and landed on the ground, fading into unconsciousness.
\-\
Ishton murmured inaudibly and slowly opened his eyes. This wasn't Gotungir's home...
Above him was the night sky. Balled up under his head was his green cape and beside him was his helmet and upper body armour. He exhaled longingly and scratched the blue scales on his chest as he looked up at the twinkling stars.
"Gotungir..." he thought, gazing at the vast space. "Are you out there watching over me like you did on that day? Will I ever be with you again? Will our data ever meet, even after death?"
Ishton's gold eyes glistened but he soon heard a shuffling from nearby. He sat up and looked around the dark. He was surrounded by snores and heavy breaths, supplied by the many members of the Slayer Legion.
Turning his horned head away from the cool desert breeze, he saw only one stirring form. A rather large form, at that. Standing away from the camp set up around the oasis, was the titan-like form of a Deckerdramon. Ishton noticed that Drykar was staring out over the dark landscape, perhaps admiring the starry horizon.
The shirtless Slayerdramon stood up and meandered over to him, being as careful as he could not to wake anybody else. Beside the massive crocodile digimon was the Agumon that Drykar had curiously brought along with them. He had meant to ask him about it, but he had been too busy to find the time since meeting up with the Slayer Legion at sunset.
"Drykar," Ishton called out in a hushed voice.
This prompted Drykar to turn his snouted head to the left and glance behind him out of one eye. "Ah, Ishton..." he greeted as quietly as he could, though his whisper was bassy enough to cause the ground directly beneath him to vibrate very slightly.
"Can you not sleep?" Ishton asked, sitting down beside Drykar and looking over at him.
"Something like that," Drykar answered, a sombre grin on his face. "...And you?"
"Something like that," Ishton echoed, a small smirk on his face. The Deckerdramon gave a slight chuckle.
The azure dragon man looked over at Lex, who was sleeping soundly against Drykar's toe, despite the trauma of the past few days. "That little one seems to have grown quite attached to you," he observed.
Drykar smiled fondly a bit and glanced at the Agumon in question. "I think it's me who has grown attached to him, to be quite honest," he admitted. His face turned mournful and he turned his head back frontwards, as if in shame. "I destroyed his village, you see... He was the only survivor. If he had been just slightly less lucky, I would have killed him too and been none the wiser."
"I see..." Ishton replied, nodding in empathy. "That's why you're bringing him along? We will be fighting in more battles, you know..."
The giant metal reptile sighed. "I know... His father was killed in the attack, but his mother lives in the capital. I was planning to bring him with us until we were close enough for him to find his own way to the city. I'm hoping his mother will have enough sense to get both him and herself out of the city before we invade. I refuse to kill anymore civilians, Ishton..." He looked at the Slayerdramon, his red eyes showing his strong feelings towards the issue.
"It was never my intention for civilians to die," Ishton reassured him. "But sometimes in war, it can't be helped..."
"I'm... aware," Drykar responded.
The Slayerdramon looked at the Deckerdramon carefully. "If you let him go back to the capital, won't he tell them that we're coming?" he asked.
"Do you really think they won't know by then anyways?" Drykar retorted. "The desert may be vast, but it would be naive to think the Sovereignty doesn't patrol their territory, especially after our undeclared attack during the Civil War."
"You're probably right," he conceded. "I won't stop you from sending him off."
"Thank you," Drykar said.
The Deckerdramon frowned and looked off into the starry sky again, becoming thoughtful and solemn. Ishton couldn't help but notice. "What's on your mind, friend?" Ishton asked curiously.
A soft breath escaped Drykar's nostrils. "...Are we doing the right thing, Ishton?" he asked.
After a moment, Ishton nodded. "...Yes. I believe we are," he said, turning his head up to the stars as well.
"Then why doesn't it feel like it?" Drykar said, glancing at Lex once again.
"Wars are messy, Drykar. Sometimes good digimon get hurt," the Slayerdramon replied.
Drykar grit his teeth. "You don't have to tell me that, Ishton..." he spoke sombrely.
Ishton placed a clawed hand on the foot of Drykar's left foreleg. He turned to him inquisitively, no malice present on his features. "Drykar, why did you join me when I asked you back in Wyrmeston?"
Drykar smiled sadly, not turning to look at his companion. "I... wanted revenge," he replied, his voice soft and reflective.
"Revenge?" Ishton asked.
Drykar nodded. "I..." he stopped, trying to place the words that jumbled in his throat. He raised his snout slightly and took a calming breath. "...As you know, I was an officer in the Dramon Empire's military. I was on the front, leading troops and managing assaults on the Rebels. I was away at the time..." he explained, looking down sadly.
"My wife and daughter were killed during one of the Rebels' retaliatory attacks. The Rebels attacked our village in the Dramon Empire and they were killed during the raid..." Drykar told him, his voice wavering.
Ishton stared at him with shock. "Drykar... I'm sorry," he finally whispered. "...What were their names?"
"Elle and Celia," he answered, not realizing that his large, red eyes were beginning to moisten.
"...So that's why I joined," Drykar explained dismissively. He quietly laughed a bit, but they were chuckles of sorrow.
The Deckerdramon's face became solemn once again and he stared off, as if his eyes were trying to find something that wasn't there. "...But now... I feel like we're no better than they are. I personally ripped Lex's father away from him... just like those bastards ripped my wife and daughter away from me..."
"Our cause is just," Ishton reassured him.
"And why is it just?" Drykar snapped. "Why are you fighting, Ishton?"
The question hit him like a rock to the head. He was surprised. After a moment, he looked Drykar in the eye resolutely. "...The exact same reason you are, Drykar... Revenge."
"And who are you taking revenge for?" Drykar pressed.
"Gotungir..." Ishton whispered, turning his head away.
The Deckerdramon looked at him with surprise. "The Grand Marshal?" he asked in confusion.
Ishton nodded solemnly. "Before you judge me as an overzealous soldier, know that he was more than just a Grand Marshal to me..." he explained grimly. The memories stung at his draconic form. "He saved my life and took me in. He gave me a home, food and a job as a soldier. I had nothing before I met him... He was more than just my master, he was a close friend... My closest friend."
Drykar sighed and nodded understandingly. "I see... but revenge won't bring him back, will it?" he asked rhetorically.
"No," Ishton conceded. "But it will make me feel better... Gotungir will be able to live on in the afterlife more peacefully knowing he didn't die in vain."
"Risking the lives of all these men... and the lives of the Rebels and civilians too... isn't that egotistical, Ishton?"
"I didn't force any of you to come with me," Ishton explained, shaking his head. "Everybody here wants to fight the Rebels as well. Well, almost everyone..." He cast his eyes towards Drykar. "If you want to leave, I won't think any less of you. I respect you as a soldier and a friend."
Drykar sighed and shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere..." he told him. "It's not as if I have anything waiting for me back within the Dramon Empire... and if my presence here can save the lives of both our Dramon and civilians, then it's my duty as a soldier to stay right here." The crocodile looked down at the Agumon sleeping against his foot. "And it's my duty as a father to make sure that Lex gets back to his mother safely..."
Ishton smiled and nodded. "Thank you, Drykar. I was dreading the concept of losing your knowledge and experience," he said, standing to his feet. "You should get some rest. We'll need our energy for tomorrow."
Drykar nodded.
"I will pray to Yggdrasil for your family, Drykar," the Slayerdramon said as he turned around.
Drykar smiled warmly at him. "Thank you, Ishton... I will pray to Yggdrasil and the Sovereigns for Gotungir as well..."
Ishton looked over his shoulder at Drykar with a tearful smile. "Thank you... So will I."
As the dragon man walked off, Drykar turned back forward and rested his snout on the sand. He watched wordlessly as a Pteramon in the distance, silhouetted only by one of the moons in the night, flew east towards the capital. Drykar closed his eyes and thought, knowing it was probably the last time he would be able to do so.
