Ambitions
Viggo stood at the bow of his flagship, his scale cloak fluttering in the wind as his destination came into view on the horizon.
The last two weeks had passed swiftly without any problems or anomalies. The exchange of crews had happened without problems, and he was confident that the spy was on his way to deliver the mistaken information. He didn't investigate to try to find the spy since it was better to pretend that he didn't know about the spy's existence. Whichever of the three warlords the spy answered to would end up further doubting the other two, which could be very helpful in the eventual negotiations, if anything went not according to plan.
The island, complete with the central mountain, sea-stacks, cliffs, forest, and docks, drew even nearer. Fishing boats drifted offshore with men hauling in the lines and catches. The village itself, built on the highest level above the docks, was a mix of old and new.
A tribe that called itself the Hooligans, or something along those lines, had fled here years ago. Most of the village had been destroyed, burned to the ground after their departure. Maybe wild dragons drove them off, maybe Bludvist's army had been responsible, or maybe the island was cursed as some believed. There were plenty of signs that dragons had been prevalent here before.
He sometimes wondered whether the Hooligans of Berk had been the first to tame and train dragons and had been the dragonriders who ended up opposing Drago Bludvist and the armada. That information made no practical difference anymore though.
His secret base had been constructed, at no small expense, in the ashes of the previous village on the island of Berk. Trees were felled, scraps were reused, stone was quarried, and a proper village was established to be efficient and inconspicuous.
On the outside, it appeared to be just another island with a Nord tribe which lived off the sea and what trade the people could arrange. While most of the people were men, there were also women and a dozen families. Everyone had tasks and crafts they practiced, from bread-making, hunting, forging, animal husbandry, spiritual services, and types of pleasure. The buildings visible from the sea were simple homes and lean-to's, and what looked like a Great Hall. It was a true village.
But in secret, there was so much more. The large buildings away from the cliffs housed dragon pens and stables. Caves in the mountain also held a modest underground compound where dragons were kept.
Those dragons that had human riders and which had accepted the saddle and bridle were allowed to stay in the pens instead of underground. Practice flying in formation and on drills happened at night or when scouts were watching the seas.
Everyone living there had been carefully selected by himself and his brother. Only practical people with no great hate of dragons were chosen. They all valued the protection they enjoyed and the amount of coin they stood to earn. Practical people were much easier to deal with than fanatics.
He squinted and saw, high up on the cliff, a raised flag billowing in the wind. That was the signal that the waters were clear.
Pleased, he spun around and found Captain Gretka. He gave her the instructions to see the ship to the docks and then have the new dragon prepared for transport to a holding cell. That done, he went to his chambers, changed into more appropriate attire, went to Ripper's pen, and woke him from his sleep.
"Ready, Ripper?"
Ripper toothily yawned and lay down with a thud as his tusks struck the floor.
"Oh, no you don't. You had plenty of sleep already."
Ripper rolled his eyes without otherwise moving. This was not surprising at all of him.
"Don't make me tell you again!" he teasingly waved a finger.
He managed to persuade his lazy mount to get up while he fitted Ripper with the saddle. Together, they strode onto deck, and he vaulted into the saddle. Ripper knew where to go without any further direction.
Flight was even now, nearly five years after flying for the first time, exhilarating in a way he never let anyone know about. The other dragonriders in his service were similarly unafraid of flight, which was an absolute necessity for this revolutionary change he was bringing about.
Higher and higher they flew until the entire village came into view above the cliffs. People were about, working on their various tasks.
Ripper dove for the central clearing beside the headquarters.
Having his dragon always nearby helped whenever needing to respond to any emergency.
He hopped down and patted Ripper on the neck, "Good boy. Now go have your nap."
Ripper huffed, loped away, and vanished into his stable near the headquarters.
Satisfied, he greeted the men who approached him, welcoming him home. None of them were important since they were not in the circle of advisers. They gave him an update of progress on the island and told him that Ryker was in the Great Hall, which was not a surprise.
Sure enough, his brother was there, sharing mugs of strong ale with a few of the more experienced dragon masters, as the riders called themselves. Also as usual, Ryker was completely clean-shaven; he preferred having a practical, low maintenance look.
"And there we were, smoking, drinking, puffing on henbane, and then surprise! Heads went rolling on the floor, and no one knew why!" Ryker shouted.
An uproar of hearty laughter followed along with pounding on the table. He just rolled his eyes at how blunt and untactful Ryker could be. Though, folk preferred having Ryker as a leader, probably because he was so forceful in personality and since his methods produced more immediate results in pacifying dragons and breaking their wills.
Many of the dragonriders teased him for not being as firm with Ripper as they were with their dragons. They preferred to have broken, obedient dragons, whereas Ripper was more like a partner in activity. Not a friend, obviously, but not a mere pet either. There was no need for any unnecessary discipline.
"Heads rolling on the floor? Let me guess: lettuce?" he teased.
Ryker slammed his fists on the table, spun on him, walked to him, and embraced him, slapping him hard on the back, "Good to see you too, baby brother!"
"Will you stop that?"
"Nope. Not until it stops working on you."
He didn't care about the fraternal teasing, but it was fun to mess with Ryker and let him think it bothered him.
Ryker stepped back and crossed his arms, "How was the mission? And what was it for? You didn't even tell me before you left."
"You were away dealing with the Hobblegrunt, and there was no time to waste."
"So, out with it. What is it?"
He nodded to the front door, "Let's take a walk."
Ryker reluctantly bid his drinking companions farewell after promising to be back later with more drink.
"Where to?"
"Probably the docks. There is good news."
"More wenches?"
"Almost, but better. A new dragon."
That got Ryker's attention, "A new one?"
"Yes, it's not in my dragon manual yet. Female. In appearance and size it is smaller than a Night Fury but not by much. It also has spines down its back. Possible crossbreed, not sure of what."
Ryker grumbled, "How smart is it?"
"No indication it's like a Night Fury, but it might be smarter than most breeds. It gave no sign of understanding me, but it knew it was being spoken to."
"Cause any problems?"
He paused before answering that. Ryker, in his opinion, always took excessive pleasure from taming the wilder and more rebellious dragons. Starvation and the whip were very effective at promoting submission. Part of that was the strategy. Ryker got to be the bad guy, whereas the rider they were pairing with each worthwhile dragon got to be the one to bring food and attention. The dragon would become dependent on the rider as their master and source of peace and comfort.
"Docile. It didn't cause any problems or try to hurt anyone. Honestly, it might be excessively passive."
Ryker shrugged, "That'll change. They always get a little rebellious before they accept the saddle. I assume you intend that for it."
He nodded, "It's either that or breeding stock, but we don't have anything we can cross with it."
The only dragon they ever had in what the Nords called the mystery or strike classes and was in any way similar to this dragon had been an old Skrill. However, that dragon had proved to be unmanageable in temperament, as it shocked to death anyone who came close, so they had it put down. Bindings and metal chains didn't help restrain such a dragon.
"Who knows? We might have found your dragon," he added.
Ryker frowned, "Perhaps. Gotta see it first. You know I'd like something bigger than a Fury."
"Yeah, that's called compensating."
He easily dodged the punch.
They arrived at the docks after the flagship arrived. Sailors were busy unloading various supplies. Everything was working smoothly and efficiently. Ten strong men carried the bound dragon off the ship. They carefully set the dragon down on shore and began removing the tarps that had bound the dragon. The dragon was free to lay down on its side, though its limbs and wings were still naturally bound. It also had the heavy harness around its neck and head.
Its silver-blue eyes were narrowed as the dragon looked around without otherwise moving.
Ryker crossed his arms, "Yeah, never seen one of those before. What should we call it?"
He shrugged, not having given any thought to that unimportant topic. The name was just not as relevant as the dragon's other traits, such as aggressiveness, abilities, intelligence, and so on.
"Any ideas? It's probably in the mystery class if anything."
Ryker paused in his pacing around the prone dragon. He knelt by the tailfins and touched them, only for the dragon to understandably flick them away and whine.
"Looks like a Fury except for the spines. Spine Fury?"
It wasn't very imaginative, but it was good enough. He expected nothing more from his older brother.
"Spine Fury. Fine. What's your assessment of it?"
Ryker stood beside him while all the handlers gathered around them and the Spine Fury.
"Small for sure. Doesn't really have much for scales or defense. Lots of color, but that doesn't matter. Smaller claws. What about fire, acid, or anything else?" Ryker asked.
"One of the men said he saw it trying to flame the pen's bars when the muzzle came loose, so it has fire. No indication of any other abilities."
Ryker nodded, "And it's a smarter type, but not very smart?"
Ryker knew not to let anyone know that Night Furies could understand speech. Night Furies couldn't talk, obviously, but that they could understand everything they heard and could write was too much for the common folk to know.
Why did other dragons not have such a level of intelligence and understanding? He had no answers to that unimportant question.
"I believe so. Could be useful for scouting and speed, if not for combat."
Ryker pulled out a pocketknife and pointed it at the Spine Fury's back, "I'd rather not have one of those spikes up my ass. Think they can come off?"
He considered the spikes. They were not the bony growths that some dragons had. Rather, these were soft and flexible flesh instead of bone. Cutting off a few of the spikes would be messy and likely painful for the dragon, but it was unnecessary. It wouldn't be too hard to just pin the spines under a modified saddle. Causing unnecessary pain was a waste, especially since the dragon was not aggressive. There was no reason to provoke it and damage it at the same time.
He leaned against the dragon and clasped one of the soft spines, gently pushing on it to show how it flexed.
"Probably, but there's no need. They're not firm, see? Plus, we don't know for sure that you'll be riding it."
Ryker faced the handlers holding the lead-rope attached to the harness, "Take it to the pens for processing!"
"Normal diet and a normal pen. We'll be along in a few days to see to it," he added.
"Yes, sirs." "Right on it." "Will do."
The handlers gathered around the Spine Fury, untied the bindings around its limbs, and prodded it to get up. The Spine Fury whined softly, looking around and shaking its limbs as it got to its paws.
He had once been completely certain that dragons had no feelings except whatever a beast knew. Grimmel and, more importantly, Shadowwing had changed that. Feelings and care were unnecessary in getting a dragon to obey, but dragons were still capable of more than most people gave them credit for.
This one was a strange mix of calm and afraid, probably overwhelmed by its capture, transportation, and delivery here. That mix of timidity and shock wasn't too strange for a dragon recently arrived to the island.
The handlers shouted and pulled on the rope, dragging the Spine Fury away. At least it did not fight them, instead following their instructions with little prodding.
Ryker clasped his shoulder, "Let's talk on our own."
He followed Ryker out onto an empty pier, the boats being offshore. He and Ryker leaned against posts out on the pier. The other normal sounds of the village were covered by the waves, the wind whipping his cape, and the cry of the gulls. It was time to get to business.
"Anything I should know about?" Ryker asked.
"There was a spy onboard the Jotun. I let him go unidentified while feeding him false information."
"Who'd you pin it on?"
"Left it vague. Keep them guessing and doubting each other."
Ryker blinked, as if he just remembered something, "Oh, right, there's a report from Svarog. It's on your desk."
Ryker would leave a confidential report on the desk instead of locking it up or burning it after reading it. By the gods, Ryker would be the death of him one day.
"What's it say?"
"More of the same. Khan is facing more pressure to return home even if empty-handed. Griselda and Ragnar are at each other's throats over raiding territory. Supplies are running low for everyone after making it through the worst of the winter. They're all getting desperate."
He grinned. Everything was proceeding according to plan.
"Good. Preparations for the meeting still going well?"
Ryker nodded, "The Nightmare isn't causing trouble anymore. Udalryk, Thorlief, and Birna are doing well with their squads. Not much else to report on those fronts."
"Think they're ready to show off for the warlords? We need that demonstration to go well."
Ryker grinned, "Yeah, it would be a shame if the dragons went wild and killed off the other warlords, leaving only us to command everyone."
He nodded, "Unfortunate for them. More fortunate for us."
The meeting with the three warlords to discuss investment in this budding dragon army enterprise was planned for a couple months in the future. The meeting was to take place on Falke Island, a neutral location far enough from his base, just over a week of sailing, that no suspicion would be drawn this way.
Falke Island had a history which very few people now alive knew about. It was that very island, though they might have named it something else, on which the Nord tribes in the region had gathered upon for peace talks and resolution of disputes. It was also on that island that a lone warlord had used his dragon army to essentially destroy all the opposition leadership.
Maybe it was irony that such a purge would happen again at the same place. But what he and Ryker were planning was very different than that madman's ambition. Drago had only thought about his own advancement and had no mind toward improving the world he conquered. Ryker didn't really care about the future either, but he himself did.
Private meetings with each of the three warlords, Chaghatai Khan, Ragnar the Rock, and Griselda the Grievous, had confirmed that they were lost causes, having ambitions incompatible with his own. They were either too different, too violent and unstable, or too aggrieved. All of them had expressed great interest in procuring the services of trained dragons. However, those three could not be relied upon to be loyal captains beneath him and Ryker. They would not be content renting the services of dragons and masters loyal to someone else.
He, Ryker, and the warlords would eventually have opposing interests, so it would be best to preemptively take them out. To the rest of the region, those three warlords would simply disappear. Disappearance happened with warlords all the time, so no one would be surprised. The region might also end up more peaceful as a result.
Ryker snapped his fingers, "Oh, almost forgot, the last ship that arrived had someone you've been looking for."
"Wonderful. Where is he being held?"
"Down in the village. Zone two. He doesn't know anything about the dragons here."
"Sounds like he needs a visit."
He had spoken at length with Grimmel when they were negotiating their alliance. One of the concerns he had raised was the threat that multiple Night Furies could pose, and that was before he learned the truth of how smart Night Furies were. Grimmel had taken him to a special holding cell which had a dragon he had never seen before.
Grimmel had not been forthcoming with details about what kind of dragon it was, where it came from, how he tamed it, and the such. All he shared was that the mysterious and monstrous dragon would help cleanse the world of Night Furies.
Finding and taming any of those Night Fury killers would let him create an elite force loyal only to him. Having them would also help if he ever had to oppose Night Furies again.
I knew it!
There were other scents of kin in this twisted nest filled with tree-dens. This nest was very different, bigger mostly, than the other one which tricked and trapped her. These tree-dens were bigger, and the nest had more two-legs walking throughout the nest. All of that might have been worth sneaking around faded to see, if she was not trapped.
But the kin scents were so much more important. Spine-tails, fire-scales, two-head gas-breathers, and rock-bellies were the most common scents. Others were strange and unknown, but still kin scents.
The two-legs led her into another tree-den with much stronger scents of kin. There were also traps with the shiny-rock bars. These traps were big enough to stretch her wings inside, which was good.
They pushed her into the trap, took off most of the guiding-things from her, closed the trap-mouth, and left the tree-den. Good.
She was finally alone and able to start learning what she could. Most obvious was that this very big tree-den was where other kin were likely held in traps. There were ten and two traps like hers, but there were no other kin in them. Where were the kin?
Their scents were on the air and the ground in the trap, but they were not here.
Maybe the two-legs took them somewhere else?
Forceful nudges of the shiny-rock-bars showed that they were strong too. Each trap appeared stuck to the next one, holding them all in place. The ground was very dry dirt which smelled of waste. Rock under the dirt prevented digging out.
Motion got her attention, and she glared at the approaching two-legs. But they only had a fish and a holding-thing filled with water. These two-legs were mere workers obeying their Alpha, whichever that one was, probably Cunning. There had been another two-leg, and it had not been submissive to Cunning. Their scents were also similar. Nestmates? Two Alphas together? It was possible.
She remained calm and unmoving as she saw them enter the tree-den. There were three kin walking behind three two-legs. The kin were a spine-tail, a fire-scale, and a one-horn-rumbler. Each of the kin had strange furs and false-vines around their backs. What were those for?
Her wondering faded when the kin just walked into the traps! They walked inside without fighting and let the two-legs close the trap-mouths!
What! Why would they do that?
None of those kin had their mouths closed. Something about this was very twisted.
She waited until the two-legs were gone, and then she barked to get the kin's attention. None of them stirred or glanced at her, so she reached out to touch life-fires with them and speak with thought-voice.
'Kin! What is happening here? Why are you trapped?'
The fire-scale glanced at her first, rumbling deeply in wariness, 'Strange confusion other what new kin trapped.'
The fire-scale felt very confused, but by what was unclear. It's life-fire was small and smoldering, like a fire that had burned and eaten most of its food. The kin was weak of will.
'Why did you follow the two-leg and walk into a trap?'
'Obey Alpha,' the fire-scale weakly answered.
She blinked and grumbled.
'What Alpha?'
'Obey Alpha.'
'What Alpha?'
'Obey Alpha.'
She looked away from the kin. It was not being helpful at all. Apparently these kin did have an Alpha they obeyed, maybe one of the bigger kin outside this trap. But that did not explain why the kin were obeying the two-legs or not fighting back.
What kin would willingly fly or walk into a trap? What would make them want to be here instead of anywhere else? Maybe the kin-Alpha was working with the two-legs?
There was something else she could do to know what they had been doing before.
She closed her eyes and touched their life-fires, trying to feel and see what they felt recently. But there was nothing powerful or important which flared to life in memory. The kin were out of the traps, flying in the sky with other kin, and then came back to the ground to be in the traps where they belonged. It was what Alpha wanted them to do.
She blinked and shook her head with a growl.
What is this Alpha? What Alpha would force the kin into traps the two-legs made?
Just that short feeling of flight from their lives was so good. How many dark-light cycles had passed since she flew on her own free of traps?
Far too many. Worse, the two-legs were careful to not make mistakes. Getting out of the trap might be more difficult than she had hoped. Patience was important, but that did not mean she could not test the limits of what she could get away with doing.
Careful scratching and cutting with a claw tip broke the new false-vines around her mouth. The false-vines fell away onto the dirt after much working which left her more tired and sore.
Being able to stretch, yawn, and roll her jaws was so good! There were no two-legs here to put more false-vines around her.
Satisfied, and glanced at the other kin. They just lay in their traps. Maybe they were asleep, or maybe they did not care about anything.
Regardless, being able to stretch her wings and her jaws was very good. It was a small piece of freedom in this trap. Further, it was a small act of defiance.
She purred deeply, curled up, and went to sleep.
A group of two-legs walked into the tree-den and stopped outside her trap while staring and pointing their paws at her. They also started growling to each other while waving a few paws and their long stick-claws at her.
They were probably wondering about going into the trap to put more false-vines around her jaws.
It was possible to flame them right now and kill a pawful of the two-legs. Doing that would be a good way to hurt them for trapping her here, but...
She needed them to think she was not dangerous. That was very important. So she yawned widely after hiding her teeth. The two-legs kept pointing at her and grumbling to themselves. She lay her head on her paws, closed her eyes, and pretended to be asleep.
The two-legs were completely tricked. Their growling and hissing of displeasure faded as they moved on without opening the trap. Instead, they went on to the next trap. Good, they were already tricked and not appreciating how extremely dangerous she was.
The anger and fire at being trapped was simmering deep inside. Just the thought of finding the two-leg Alpha or Alphas and tearing into their bellies with her claws was very liver-warming. They deserved to suffer for all the bad they did to her and the other kin.
But she needed to pretend to be calm, unconcerned, and not dangerous until the time was right. First came learning what was happening here, and then she could find a way to get all the kin, however many there were, out of their traps. They needed a protector.
Two dark-light cycles passed in which she could do nothing except sleep, eat, drink, and wait. More of the low-order two-legs came with water and meats, though they had Fighters hold her down while they did the work. They also cleaned the trap of waste, which she was thankful for. No one wanted their own den fouled.
They left without putting new mouth-closing false-vines on her.
More kin were brought to these traps, and all the kin were the same in their behavior. They obeyed the two-legs and made no threat-signs at all. The kin's memories were also very strange in that they all flew much, even with kinds that were not their own, and thought constantly about obeying and pleasing their Alpha.
Who was this Alpha? If this Alpha was why the kin had all gone so cold in their life-fires, they needed a new Alpha! One that would truly protect them and free them from the two-leg menace!
She stifled the purr-growl before it came out.
Being an Alpha, a protector, had never been necessary before. Alpha from Ice-Water-Pack was a good Alpha to the pack. But these kin here, trapped by two-legs, needed someone who would fight for them, so she would once she knew who to fight. The Alpha kin was almost certainly a big male.
Cunning had smelled of a kin: a stinging-tail hunter-kin. Maybe that hunter-kin was the Alpha.
Viggo calmly strolled into the darkened room within which a prisoner was being held by armed guards. The prisoner was simply clad, had his hands bound, and was seated before a plain wooden table. He also reeked of mead and clearly hadn't bathed on the journey.
All the answers he sought were somewhere within that man's mind.
"What is this!" he shouted in clear anger.
"Uh, sir?" "Whuzzit?" "Huh?"
He shoved aside the first guard, seized the keychain, and went to the prisoner, "You idiots were to treat our guest well, not bind him like a common criminal! Get out and bring us good food and drink!"
"Okay!" "On it!" "Yes sir!"
He kept scowling as his guards departed, their job almost done. He undid the prisoner's bindings.
"Sorry about that. My men clearly don't know proper etiquette. I'll have them disciplined later. What's your name?"
The prisoner lifted his arms and massaged his wrists now that the bindings were off.
"Molveig."
"Molveig, wonderful. You may have heard of me. I'm Viggo Grimborne."
"Yeah, I have. You had dealings with Grimmel."
The door opened as a couple guards entered, placing a plate of bread, cheese, and jerky and a pitcher of mead on the table. Molveig's eyes feasted on the foods and drink.
He scowled at the guards again to dismiss them before handing the plate over.
"And I know you were one of his captains, which is why you are here. But first, you must be hungry. Eat and drink. Then we can get down to business."
"Which is?"
"I just want to talk with you and hear what you have to say."
Molveig frowned and leaned back in his chair while tearing into a loaf of bread, "Why was I kidnapped?"
"A couple reasons. One, my men don't know how to be subtle, for which I swear to the gods I am sorry. I will make it up to you for the inconvience. They were supposed to offer you a hefty sack of coin, but they forget orders very easily. Second, you were in hiding, and didn't make it easy to find you. You see how my idiot guards must have overreacted."
He poured a couple mugs of unspiked mead. Some members of Grimmel's closest captains might be familiar with Deathgripper venom, which would make them more likely to discover the trick. This was best managed with pure wit and natural influence.
He pushed a mug of mead to Molveig, and drank from his own mug first. Reassured, Molveig immediately drank his as well.
"Do you have somewhere to go once this is over?"
Molveig finished his mug and slammed it on the table, "Not really. What're you saying?"
He leaned forward on the table, "It's very simple. Things were chaotic a few years ago. Allegiances weren't certain. Some people, like yourself, weren't sure that Grimmel was actually dead. You didn't have reason to trust me. I understand. I also assure you that I have not abandoned the goal of ensuring that wild dragons never again threaten everyone. I need your help."
"How could I help you?"
"Information, my friend. Information is all I need. In return, you can leave and be taken anywhere you want, or you can stay here where your knowledge and background could be useful."
"Useful how?"
"What did you think about Grimmel's pet Deathgrippers?"
Molveig shrugged, "Vicious, hideous, tame. They're useful."
He smiled, "I agree completely. Dragons can be tamed and used. Most dragons, anyway. Some are too dangerous, like Night Furies. Your boss had a solution to help against those dragons. You know what I'm referring to."
Molveig slowly nodded.
"So what I want from you is very simple: how did Grimmel get his Night Fury killer? Tell me everything you know."
Movleig frowned, "You wouldn't believe me."
"You have no reason to omit anything. Just tell me your story, and I'll reward you."
Molveig filled his mug, downed it in one go, and faced him again after crossing his arms.
"Eh, whatever. Believe me or not. So, it was about twenty years ago, give or take. He already had his grippers by then: found a nest and took the eggs. Not sure when. Anyway, he had word of there being Night Furies on some island far from here, didn't even have a name on the map. It started with the grippers being… weird. They struggled, resisted, didn't obey as they should, even had slitted eyes. Grimmel wasn't sure what was wrong with them. Almost had to put them down."
"Curious."
"You've no idea. We got to the island, and the grippers went back to normal. The grippers did their job, and we found the Furies' nest. We attacked and forced the beasts to flee. Killed one of them. We were about to move on when Grimmel saw a dark blur dive deeper inland. We had to go after it, and that's when we saw the Hunter feeding on a dead Night Fury. Everyone wanted to kill it, but Grimmel was amazed. A dragon that could kill Night Furies. He wanted to capture it, but it flew away as soon as we got near."
"So he didn't get that one. What happened next?"
"Nothing left to do on the island. See, we were heading home or chasing another lead, not sure which, but we were out at sea when… a monster appeared."
"A monster?"
Movleig leaned forward, his eyes intense as he stared into the past, "The biggest dragon ever! A Death Titan! It just… rose up out of the sea and blocked our way! It was… jaws big enough to eat ships whole, five evil eyes, the foulest stench you ever smelled, and-"
"Wait, five eyes?" he asked, confused.
"Well, it was probably six eyes, but one of them was missing."
He heard enough to know what it was: a Death Titan or Red Death as some had named them.
"I understand. Continue."
"So, the grippers went all crazy again, not obeying commands or doing anything. But here's what was craziest: the monster didn't attack! It just stared at us, or at Grimmel more likely. He stood up on the ship's bow, cape blowing in the wind, and stared back at that beast. No fear at all even against that. Then, well, ah, you won't believe it."
He calmly folded his hands on the table, "Try me."
"I swear on my mother's pyre, that Night Fury killer dove from the clouds and landed on the ship! It hopped right up to Grimmel and lay down like a trained hound! The Death Titan vanished underwater without so much as a growl at us. Never saw it again. The Night Fury killer followed Grimmel and obeyed him like he had trained it himself. Later, he told us he heard the gods speaking through that Death Titan. Could have been Loki for all I know. Anyways, he took that as a sign that the gods were supporting him and that the Night Furies had to be all killed, every single one of them."
"Fascinating story."
"Bah! Knew you wouldn't believe me."
He took out a small sack of gold and silver coin, which he tossed on the table. Molveig eagerly took the sack and inspected the coins.
"I didn't say that at all. Did Grimmel say anything else about that day? The more you can tell me, the more I feel you deserve a bonus reward."
"Well, we were all a bit crazy after that. He got crazier though. Started talking to himself more. Whispering things about Night Fury magic, revenge, and cleansing the world. To be fair, he got it under control a few weeks later. I asked him what happened with that Death. He said it talked to him, which is crazy, obviously. It didn't talk. Just glared at him. He didn't say what they talked about though. With everything else crazy that happened, I don't know what to think, and I didn't want to push him at all."
"And he only had the one Night Fury Killer?"
"Only the one. Never saw anything else like it. He claimed it was a gift to aid him in the mission."
He had no further questions, so he took out another small coin pouch and tossed it to Molveig.
"You have my thanks. Your coin is well-earned. Now, I have another proposal. You already know dragons. Would you want to work any further with them in a secure setting? If so, I might have work for you."
Molveig frowned, "No going out to hunt for them, right? Because I am over doing that."
"No, you'd be staying here on this island for the rest of your life, more or less. Working with captive dragons we have. Tending to them. Training them to be compliant. You probably know some of how Grimmel trained his Deathgrippers."
"So I am a prisoner."
He shrugged and got to his feet, "Depends on how you want to see it. To be honest, I can't risk someone with your knowledge falling under the wrong warlord. On the other hand, my work pays well, we have all the comforts of larger tribes, and you'll be safe here. What do you say? Are you in?"
Molveig smiled and stood up, "Sure thing, boss. Got nowhere better to go anyway. One question: where's the nearest brothel?"
"The Hefty Harlot. Down by the docks. Good choice."
He led Molveig outside, waved one of his subordinates over, and told him about the new arrangement. Letting his subordinate take care of everything with Molvieg, he strolled off on his own to consider all he had learned. The cliffs overlooking the docks and sea-stacks were always a good place to muse and plan on his own.
He got to the cliffs, leaned against a boulder, and took a brief moment to appreciate how smoothly the entire operation was working. Focusing on the practical and mundane helped aleviate the headache whenever the arcane or supernatural came up.
Molveig's information was informative, confusing, and frustratingly useless. Assuming the information was accurate, Grimmel had gotten the Night Fury hunter from a Death Titan. That alone raised more questions which needed further reflection.
Death Titans, being so titanic in size, could only survive one in each nest, from which they rarely left. His records further indicated that only one Death Titan lived in these waters in the past, and that Titan's remains could be found on the shore of a volcanic island. The one which Grimmel had met had not been attached to any dragon nest he knew about, so he had no idea where it had come from.
But what was far more significant and confusing was that the Death Titan had apparently given Grimmel one of the Night Fury hunters to use. What its reasons could be to rely on a human instead of attack the ships were unfathomable. Or maybe not. Death Titans could supposedly control other dragons by using mind powers.
Was it using its Night Fury hunter to attack Night Furies where the Death Titan couldn't easily go? Did it understand that it and Grimmel shared a common purpose through seeing Grimmel attacking the Night Furies on that unknown island?
He frowned, disturbed by how easily his thoughts drifted to the involvement of magic in the explanation. Had Grimmel truly spoken with the Death Titan? Had it made its thoughts known to him, somehow?
Molveig's news was a dead end in that there was no secret island where Night Fury hunters were aplenty, or if there was no one knew about it. If those dragons were extremely rare, perhaps Grimmel's being the only one was a small mercy. No one else could have one. As effective as they were against Night Furies, they could be trained to be just as threatening against other dragons.
There was no reason wasting any more time on the topic of Grimmel's Night Fury hunter or where it came from. That information would only have been useful if it let him get one too.
Freed of that burden and the frustrations of being around other people, he considered all he knew about the Spine Fury. She was a very curious dragon in her demeanor. Even after the first-day incident in which she freed her jaws, she never flamed or snapped at the attendants, not even when they and the armored guards were in her cell to do necessary cleaning. They all had to keep records of whenever any dragon acted out or tried to be defiant.
Was its compliance a sign that it had known humans before its capture on the mainland? That was a possible explanation, though it gave no indication of understanding anything. Perhaps it wasn't as smart as a Night Fury. Another possibility was that this was just a more docile breed. Those were questions for later as it would take more time to answer such musings.
It was time for this dragon to start to learn what the future had in store for it, so he started for the village and the building where the dragon was being held.
He gestured at the handlers once he arrived, "Bring it to zone four. Standard procedure."
"Yes, sir." "Right away, sir."
The handlers went into the cell, immobilized the Spine Fury, tied its wings, and put the collar around its neck. A heavy metal chain connected to the collar and was used to lead the dragon.
The Spine Fury did not react other than looking disinterested. Another possibility was that it was already broken, though he hoped that was not accurate. Completely breaking a dragon was unnecessary to get obedience, even if Ryker didn't agree.
He and the handlers led the Spine Fury, now alert and looking around, out from the holding building and to one of the clearings being used for training. They passed men, women, and children, some of whom paused to watch the new dragon.
He was pleased to see the second squad waiting for him outside the village. Udalryk commanded a group of four riders and four dragons: his Monstrous Nightmare, a Deadly Nadder, a Rumblehorn, and a Hobblegrunt. Having all the dragons in each squad be a different breed helped to limit the possibility of aggressiveness between them. Further, whenever squads were deployed in the future on missions, their being captured would not allow the captors to breed dragons from them. Keeping control of supply was essential to this endeavor.
Udalryk, already wearing his flight-attire, strode to him and clasped his offered hand. The man was confident, unafraid of the sky, and a respectable father and husband, which was good. That commitment to his family made him reliable and dependent on this business, since his family lived here on the island. Proper alignment of incentives was essential to ensuring the success of the project.
"What have you got here? Is this the new Spine Fury I heard about?" Udalryk asked.
"That she is. You can thank my brother for the name. Same demonstration as usual for new dragons."
Udalryk saluted, "Yes, sir."
Udalryk went over to his squad and relayed the instructions. Meanwhile, he went to stand by the handlers with the Spine Fury. She was staring intensely at the four other dragons, which was perfect.
The whole point of bringing her out here was so that she could see the other dragons being saddled, compliant, and agreeable toward their masters. Seeing that no harm befell the dragons would help to reassure her that no one got hurt. If she obeyed and accepted the saddle, then there would be no reason for any other, more drastic measures.
She watched as the other dragons obediently bent down and let themselves be saddled and bridled, all without reacting or protest. Their riders mounted them and directed them to take flight for a short training run. They flew in formation out around the nearby sea-stacks, flamed a few designated practice targets, and returned, landing in formation.
The Spine Fury stared without reacting beyond its ears being slanted back. That was an unsurprising reaction. Most dragons reacted with surprise and confusion the first few times they saw other obedient dragons carrying their masters.
Udalryk hopped down from his Nightmare and approached him.
"Well done, captain. Your squad has picked up the slack since last time."
"Svorlag is doing better at following directions. What else do you want from me, sir?"
He gestured at the Spine Fury, "Nothing else for now. Just keep to your regular duties. The Spine Fury will get daily viewings out here to accommodate it to carrying. We will be trying to place it with Ryker. Usual treatment to socialize it."
Udalryk frowned, "Think he's up to it? It didn't work so well last time."
He shrugged, "I had a long talk with him about why those methods do not help. Was he listening? Only the gods know."
"Guess we'll find out. How long until the big demonstration?"
The four captains knew only that he and Ryker had arranged a meeting with the local warlords. The plan was to, shortly before the meeting, fabricate evidence that the warlords had allied, secretly discovered this base, and were planning to attack. Eliminating the threat to the island and their families was therefore a foregone necessity. The captains and all the riders would act as was necessary, believing they were defending their home and families.
What better motivation was there than the need to protect their own?