If you've gotten this far wondering when the heck there might be any conflict, thanks for sticking with it. Your faith will be rewarded. I read and respond to all comments (except the ones that ask me not to). The feedback is important to me; I'd love and appreciate whatever you have to say, and I don't need you to spare my feelings in criticism. I'm a big boy. :D

See end notes for pronunciation and definition guide.

When a small boat drifted into the pair's field of view after a few more minutes, the boy's first instinct was to ask Friyün to steer clear. However, looking ahead, he noticed the orange dot at the edge of his range was getting closer; Sitra was losing speed and altitude. To confirm, the young man asked his walkie, "Are you sure that's us? That boat barely looks big enough for us humans."

Nadia's voice rang through, " I'm sure it does from way up there. Oh, ask Friyün to do the crew a favor and land softly as possible. The ship can handle his weight no problem, but only if he doesn't slam into it like a cannonball."

Any excuse for Shane to ask for a soft landing was fine by him. After passing along the message, he meant to add, Who is this 'crew,' anyway? How does she just know someone who will run dragons across the ocean? How does she know anyone who even can?

The dragon agreed, All interesting questions.

The 'can' part was gradually answered over time as Friyün dropped altitude himself. It was hard to tell from one high without something else for scale, but Nadia was right: the ship was truly a titan. Forget carrying one dragon, or even two; Nadia had secured a freighter whose top deck could have crammed a dozen dragons on board if they didn't need personal space. Shane almost didn't recognize the ship class without any cargo containers. In fact, the top deck was nearly stripped bare altogether so that the vessel could not be used for its apparent purpose as a cargo ship. It's a bulker! Shane declared in amazement, That thing's nearly as long as an aircraft carrier!

I suppose it is an aircraft carrier now, Friyün observed.

Friyün set down, lay down, and offered his foreleg as a step down to the ground. The dragon rider was unsteady on his feet. When he jumped down onto to the deck his legs felt like jelly, and he immediately collapsed. Uninjured and still on his adrenaline high, the boy could only laugh at his own clumsiness.

"Come on, now, get up! It is not nap time!" A crew person topside immediately responded to the young Rider's spill and rushed over with an arm outstretched. Shane had been about to gratefully reach for it, but he hesitated after a glance at her hand. There he stopped and stared because in the palm of her hand there was a vaguely ovular-shaped mark over her skin, colored silver. "What, you've not seen a gedwëy ignasia before? Come on, up." The continued urging shook the boy back out of his stupor, leading him to take the apparent Rider's hand and get back on his feet.

"Yeah, uh, sorry. I just…" She was something of a brutish character, with her portly figure, black hair kept short, and a resting expression almost as stern as his father's. She spoke with a heavy accent of some sort - Nordic, the boy suspected, but he couldn't guess more specifically than that. "…it's been a wild morning."

"I'll bet." After Shane was on his feet, the woman used her other hand to lock him into her handshake before she would let him go. "Always nice to see new blood around here. It has been too long since our last trip. Welcome to the NVDT Longshanks, you two! Chief Mate Faida Sveinsdóttir, at your service."

"Uh, good meeting you, Miss Faida." The initiate was not keen to try pronouncing her full name back to her. "I'm Shane. Embry. Oh, this is, er, my dragon, Friyün."

Tell her I'm grateful for letting us aboard their vessel.

"And me, too," Shane would add after passing that along. "And over there, that's-"

"-Ha! We all know Nadia and Sitra, kid, though I've never met her son before. Come on, let me introduce you to the crew." There was no choice in the matter; Faida had thrown an arm over Shane's soldier and escorted him a ways down the deck, where a couple dozen men and women were either already lined up or just arriving from below to come meet the initiate. He prayed he wouldn't be expected to remember all their names after one mass introduction, because this crew turned out to be quite the international bunch. Shane wound up shaking hands with at least one person from every continent, and they were quite evenly distributed. Shane wasn't even convinced they were all human! He was certain that one pale-faced man with some feminine facial features had ear tips that were unnaturally tall and pointy for a human, but he was ushered along to the next crewmate before he got a good look or a question in.

They only had one thing in common, which Shane only knew because he checked: every one of them bore a gedwëy ignasia.

Friyün was not spared, to his own surprise. Many of the crew, waiting their turn to speak to Shane or else already having gotten one, approached the dragon and greeted him with hearty introductions, friendly waves, and even one or two deep, formal bows. They seemed to understand they would not get much conversation out of him (a privilege he was sure Shane was missing just then), but that did not stop them from crowding him and making remarks about him in his presence.

"Seven months? He's the size of an eighteen-monther, at least!"

"Green's the perfect color for 'em, really. Blends with the land, still pretty to look at."

I think I'm going to enjoy this, Friyün smugly decided.

Shane though he might have agreed, if only he understood why he was being celebrated so much. He understood now these people were not just hired hands but full-fledged Riders welcoming one of their own. Still, it all felt a little... excessive. "So, wait- you're all Riders? Where are your dragons?"

A crewmate whose name Shane had already forgotten answered, "Back home. Maybe a couple of them could have come to meet you, but we only had a few days to pack. You should tell your dragons we have enough meat to feed both of them only once, so they had better not waste it."

After far too many pleasantries and barking a few orders, Chief Mate Faida insisted on a tour of the vessel. Actually, this turned out to be necessary and proper; the Longshanks was a bulker, and as the boy would soon learn it was ridiculously easy to get lost on a ship this size. The young Rider could have even lost his way between his quarters and the head. Signage was poor and lacking, so the onus was on the boy to ensure he didn't open the wrong door and fall into the ballast. That was going to be trouble, for Shane's attention was divided during the walk. I think I saw a movie like this once. After the welcome wagon, they tied the guy to a chair and tried to remove his brain.

I'm sure they mean well, Friyün counseled, Make friends with these people. They probably know better than anyone how you must be feeling now.

Ha, I think I'll leave that to you. 'Oh, Friyün, you're so big and strong. Can I set you up with my dragon? She has a great personality.' Shane had thought he and his dragon were sharing a private laugh, but when he began to chuckle out loud he was swiftly reprimanded by Faida, who snapped her fingers in front of his face and reminded him to pay attention to her directions. He did not, though he did try harder to fake it. I'm sorry I left your saddle on. I'll come get it after I'm done here.

Don't rush. This place may be large to you, but this deck is hard, cramped, and empty to me. I intend to do a lot of flying while we're here.

Yeah? Is that an invitation? Remembering where he was (in terms of circumstances - directionally, he was all but lost), Shane made an effort not to let a small smile creep across his lips.

For a repurposed cargo ship, the quarters were surprisingly nice. They were minimalist and practical, but Shane was well used to sleeping in a practical, minimalist space. If anything, it was even nicer than his last bedroom for one minor difference: the boy did not have to share this one. The quiet was relaxing; the solitude was refreshing. As much as he loved Ali, and now Friyün, the young man felt he had been sorely lacking in privacy lately. Life had been busy, noisy, and confusing ever since dragons had begun to exist. It still was, but while Friyün was asleep and Ali was... well, the boy didn't care right now, the young man finally had a chance to sit quietly and contemplate things.

And he wasted it.

Knowing it would be difficult to find a small rock in the middle of the ocean, Shane had been prudent enough to bring one with him in his backpack. "Stenr reisa!" No progress. Talking to the stubborn rock in the ancient language was proving to be about as effective as... well, talking to a rock. I hate this rock. I hate all rocks. I hate everything about the concept of rocks. What am I missing? Before his next attempt, the fledgling Rider spent a minute calming himself down, slowing his breathing, and searching inside himself for something else besides himself or Friyün. Tap into my connection with magic, draw from it, channel it with the Ancient Language... " Stenr reisa!"

The rock ignored him.

"Where's a horde of bloodthirsty urgals when you need one?" Knowing the stone was indispensable, he resisted the urge to shatter his window with it. Shadeslayer discovered magic under stress and danger. Brom said Riders used to be shown magic by getting assigned a task so stupid and impossible it'd make them angry enough to use magic. Well, no one's trying to kill me, and... well, what's more stupid and impossible than this? One more try for the night. "Stenr-" When the young man heard a knock on a door outside his room, he hastily shoved his illicit stone into one pocket. He had been about to invite the person outside in, but someone else beat him to the punch.

Next door, Nadia's voice called out, "Enter!" The boy must have mistaken where the sound was coming from. He had been about to settle down back to his own business, but there was something hostile in Nadia's tone toward her visitor. "What do you want?"

A male voice Shane didn't recognize answered, "You know we'll have to talk about it eventually, right?" The walls conducted sound well; both voices were nearly clear as a bell if Shane cared to make the effort to listen (which he did). The cadence of Nadia's visitor was smooth and silky, unusually so somehow, yet still low and bassy. Shane might have pegged him for a singer if he were pressed to guess. For the life of him, the boy could not place where on Earth that strange accent could have hailed from. His guesses included South Africa, Scotland, India, Australia, and some Slavic nation - the sailor seemed to alternate between them with every syllable.

"I was hoping you would at least wait until we arrived," Nadia hissed bitterly.

Her visitor was undeterred. "Everyone has questions. We're all glad you brought back a new Rider-"

"-Are you?"

"…I suppose you should get it out of your system now. The council won't take kindly to your rebellious attitude this time."

"The council has been wrong before."

There was an audible sigh from Nadia's visitor. "No argument here. We were wrong back then, and I'm not the only one who thinks so. But this stunt isn't helping."

"'A stunt,'" Nadia mocked, "Is that what you call it?"

"That's how the council will see it."

The longer this conversation went on, the lower the pair's voices became. By now this was no longer incidental overhearing for Shane but an effort in eavesdropping. Is Miss Nadia in trouble? The boy began to wonder. More worrisome still, Is she in trouble because of me?

Nadia pushed back, "The council relegated me to egg custodianship, and I've done that. They have nothing to be upset about."

"You know full well this isn't what they wanted. Of course I'll defend you, and the rest may see reason, but only if you all keep your noses out of trouble. Do you understand?" The man seemed sincere, but troubled. What had Nadia done that was so wrong? Why would the 'council' be upset about Shane?

The Riders here sure like me enough, the boy remembered, But it sounds like New Vroengard might not be a warm welcome. As the voices dropped into bitter whispers, Shane could only keep up by pressing one ear against his wall. However, in leaning against it over a small table, Shane nearly lost his balance. He didn't fall, but when he braced himself on the table in a hurry his hands came down on it with a loud thud. Shane cursed himself.

"What was that?" Nadia could be heard wondering.

The male spoke briskly in the Ancient Language, " Atra nosu waíse vardo fra eld hórnya!" That was the end of the conversation for Shane. He tried his best to keep listening, but whenever he thought he picked up noise from the other room, it was just some dull ringing in his ears. It didn't take Shane long to figure out the man had used magic to shut out listeners.

Damn! He took his rage out on a pillow, hopefully quietly enough not to raise any more suspicion. I've got plausible deniability, but that's not the point. They're keeping something important from me, I know it. It was a struggle not to let his frustration overflow. His basest instinct was to reach out to Friyün there and then, but the dragon was fast asleep (Shane could tell). I can't believe I already miss sharing a room. Besides the fact that he was probably in bed, too, Shane didn't think he could leave his quarters the rest of the night, or else he'd only draw more suspicion upon himself. The best he could do for himself was keep the lights out, be quiet, and stew.

Shane would not let this go. Until then, there was nothing to do but sleep it off.

Over the next few days, Shane had apparently decided to take Friyün's advice to make some friends. Whenever it was possible, he'd chat up the crew during 'incidental' run-ins while they did their duties and accidental forays into crew-only areas (both intentional and genuine accidents). He had to admit, it was something nice to chat with people who really did know what he felt. Everyone he'd talked to about it so far was just a regular person whose life got uprooted by a dragon's egg coming into their lives. As relatable as that was, as nice as it was to share that with others, the specifics of each person's old life were... unrelatable. "Excuse me, did you say, 'Austria-Hungary?'" Shane remembered asking one engineer in shock during his break.

"Back when it was called that, yeah," Ambrus had answered. The man didn't look a day over 30, but he claimed to be an adult during the collapse of his home nation. The boy empathized with his obvious solemnity as he lamented, "Don't forget your history, kid. That war was exactly the senseless tragedy the Riders were founded to prevent. Sometimes I wish we could all just reach out and conquer the world ourselves. We'd probably be better custodians of it than where it is now... but I haven't forgotten when some Riders went and tried just that neither."

"The Forsworn," Shane remembered, "But wasn't that just because they were, I mean, evil? " The boy meant to mind his words and speak cautiously, afraid of potentially losing favor but too curious to let it lie. "If the Riders on the whole are supposed to be good... I mean, anything's better than a world at war, isn't it?"

"No, kid. The only thing better than a world at war is a world at peace. That doesn't happen through conquest."

As interesting a conversation as it had been, it didn't help the boy in his main objective. The voice he'd heard was almost certainly one of the men, but it was clearly not this one. If he could only hear it again, the boy was confident he could identify it. Not that one. How's it coming for you, big guy? Shane had already shared his memory of the conversation for reference, that Friyün could aid in identifying the mystery speaker.

No luck, was the answer, I've ruled out the one with scar on his hand and the man with the gaudy piercings. I will keep an ear out.

Shane's next attempt was on one such man after hours. After dinner, a few Riders could be found unwinding in a communal area. It was one of few areas on the ship that had any personality beyond pure function. There were amenities such as a few sofas, a TV, a game system, and a couple arcade machines, but for the moment the boy was engaged in a game of pool with a very short yet stocky man… so short, in fact, he needed a footstool to take any shots. Yet it was clear from the first break this did not diminish his skill. "Sorry to ask this, but… are you a dwarf?"

"There's no fooling you," Shane's opponent indifferently answered while lining up his next shot.

"No, uh- sorry, I mean like the race of dwarves. No offense."

Clack! "You're the only one who thought of anything else," the dwarf gruffly corrected Shane. "No offense taken." This Rider was by every measure exactly how Shane would have pictured one: short and stocky with a beard nearly as long as his height, apparently borrowing all of the hair from the man's scalp, with a rough attitude to go along with the look. The man lined up to take another shot.

"So, where do dwarves -er, dwarven people live these days?"

"Underground." Clack! The dwarf potted another ball as easily as picking it up and dropping it in.

"Do you mean that literally?" Shane chased, "Or figuratively?"

"Yes." Clack! This wasn't good at all. At this rate, the game was on track to end before Shane learned much of anything. This was obviously not the man Shane had been tracking, for his voice was too thick and gravelly; however, the stranger was still a dwarf and a Rider. That was certainly someone worth talking to, even if he was a man of few words.

"So what's a Rider's normal day like?" the boy changed tack, "I've never seen one on the news swooping down to restore peace in a troubled land, so I was wondering-"

"-why we're all sitting back on our collective arses while the world burns?" The dwarf's tone was not accusatory, yet there was an obvious bitterness there. Before Shane could correct the miscommunication, his opponent sighed and went on anyway. "Just not as potent as we used to be, I suppose. Oh, sure, the most experienced Riders still know magicks that could halt an army with a single word. But we aren't the only ones with that power anymore." Clack! Another flawless shot. "But make no mistake, boy: the Dragon Riders are as strong today as they've ever been. It's been a sad few centuries while the Riders had no permanent home, while the dragons faced extinction threat after extinction threat - while, if the order were to survive, it would have to disappear. But you, boy, have met your destiny at a most opportune point in history."

"How do you figure?" Shane wasn't even watching the game anymore; he was hanging on the dwarf's every word, now that he had chosen to speak some.

"The winds of change are blowing. Look at you, for example." The dwarf nodded his head in Shane's own direction. "You're just some normal kid. Two months ago you thought dragons were always a fairy tale. Two days ago you rode on one's back! Do you see what I'm getting at?"

"No, sir," Shane answered honestly.

Clack! "I think the world's about ready. I'm not the only one, neither. Hell, even some of those old dogs on the council are coming 'round. Big things are happening, kid, and you being here's part of that. In the meantime, don't think we're all just sitting around waiting."

At long last, the dwarf looked up from the game as well. "Just 'cause we weren't on the nine-o'-clock news don't mean we weren't there. Old Afghan Army's getting hammered by Taliban missiles until a dragon burns down their whole outpost with them inside. Major gas depot on Russian soil mysteriously explodes during the first days of the 2022 Ukraine invasion. Nearly a five hundred children are kidnapped from DRC's biggest school; three days later, every one of them is back with their families, all with no description of their rescuer except that it was only a single woman. Small victories are still victories… and speaking of small victories-" The man passed the pool cue across the table. "Your turn."

"Huh?" Shane looked dumbfounded down at the pool table, having been ignoring it for some time now. Every one of the dwarf's balls were gone. Everyone of his own balls was still there. And yet, there lie the 8 ball only two inches out from the nearest pocket, the cue ball barely a half-inch away. "How'd you miss?"

"Could'a done it," Shane's opponent claimed, "Wouldn't'a been real sporting, though, would it? What'd be the point if only I got to play? Sure, I'd'a won, but what's what tell me about you? Zilch, that's what."

"I'm sorry to interrupt ." The person interjecting had only just arrived at the common area, and he was about as different from Shane's current pool opponent as one could get. This newcomer was neat and clean, with nearly as much hair as the dwarf except it all hung straight down from his head and not his face. Rather than short and stocky, this stranger was tall and lanky. Instead of comfortable clothing for warm weather like nearly everyone else, Shane took this guy for someone just out of a low-effort renaissance costume contest; most of the wardrobe was appropriate for the period and weather except that over those he was wearing a set of leather spaulders, bracers, and calf guards. The boy might have guessed he was ready for an impromptu fight in the early 12th century or so.

While Shane was still trying to work this man out, the newcomer instantly and intensely locked eyes with Shane. It was only at this angle when one of his subtler features became more visible: unlike a normal person's rounded ear tips, this person's jutted further outward and ended in sharp points. "Ah! There you are."

Shane's dwarven pool opponent quietly acknowledged, "Captain on deck."

"Come now, we all know that title means little," the 'captain' modestly declined, "We're all friends here." He turned his attention back to Shane. "Except us, I'm afraid, at least for now. I regret we could not have been acquainted sooner, but other matters have necessitated my attention these past days. But make no mistake, it is an honor at last." That was a good enough excuse for Shane not to recognize the man! He certainly recognized the voice, though. It was low, smooth, and just seemed to stroke the sense of hearing just right somehow. The man bowed, deeply before Shane, "I am Rowal, captain of the NVDT Longshanks and sitting member of the Dragon Riders' High Council."

It was immediately clear to Shane he should make a good impression on this person. He attempted to mirror the formal gesture and answer in kind. "I'm Shane Embry… uh, former member of the Viewfield High lacrosse team and not technically a Dragon Rider." The dwarf audibly scoffed. "Come on, man, I'm trying here."

"That's quite alright," excused the councilor with a gentle smile, "Courtesy is a virtue, ignorance is no fault, and culture is relative." While Shane was still trying to figure out whether to feel relieved or offended, the 'Rowal' figure requested, "I would like to borrow you. Would you kindly follow me topside?"

Icelandic:

1. Faida Sveinsdóttir (FAI-dah SVAYNS-dow-trr)

Ancient Language:

1. Gedwëy ignasia (GEHD-way ihg-NAHS-ee-ah) - "shining palm," the silvery mark on a Rider's hand from when they first touch their dragon
2. "Stenr reisa!" (STEHN-rr RAY-sah) - "Stone, rise!"
3. "Atra nosu waíse vardo fra eld hórnya!" (Ah-TRAH NOH-soo WAH-ees VAHR-doh frah ehld HORN-yah) - "May we be warded from listeners!"