"Rainfall men never die in their beds."
- Lady Evelyn Nightswood, Private Tutor
A/N: If you're enjoying the story so far, please consider writing a review!
Various concepts revolving around the use of magic have thrived in the past millennia. Wizards, both young and old, male or female, all throughout Earth Land have mastered countless different spells powered by the Ethernano surging in their bodies.
Like hammers and saws at a workbench, or weapons that make up an armory, magic is simply a tool. Whether it be used for self-defense or mundane household chores is entirely up to the user.
Some of the more talented mages have banded together in small, adventurous organizations known as wizard guilds, protecting their country and bettering the lives of its people. For a profit, of course.
Sorcery comes in many different forms. If you want to store blades or firearms, summon rain to your farmland, or even rewind time, it can be done following the required amount of patience and study.
However, not every wizard has the best of intentions, and this serves as the primary reason why governments hold the Magic World under such a large, constricting microscope.
One of the most prominent and well-known mages in history, The Black Wizard Zeref, built countless, unfathomable monsters with the wave of his hand, and set them loose to terrorize Ishgar.
Why he did so remains unknown to this day, but any curiosity this question would spark pales in comparison to the mysterious origins of the Dragon Slayer.
With enhanced senses, limitless strength, and mastery over specific elements, the Dragon Slayers are among the most feared and respected individuals to ever walk the Magic World. They claim to have been taken in and trained by dragons as children, but that is simply impossible, those are mythical creatures, after all.
This form of Lost Magic allows the user to consume their own signature element, whether it be scorching fire or nauseous poison, and throw it back at their opponents.
Gajeel Redfox, the Ace of Phantom Lord, has been known to eat iron before engaging in combat, empowering his abilities over tenfold. Some experts believe the Dragon Slayers were infused with dangerous Lacrimae, but this theory is-
"Damnit! Tell me something I didn't know!"
Natsu growled in frustration and angrily shut the history book he was reading.
"My God, flame-brain! Bolton's not a Dragon Slayer, so just chill out, will you?"
This was written over eight years ago, so it probably wasn't all that up to date, but unfortunately, it was the most recent edition he could find. Plus, why the hell would they mention Gajeel in there but not him? The nerve!
"You don't get it, Frosty, I smelt it on him! What if his dragon disappeared on July 7th, too? Maybe he knows something that the rest of us don't! C'mon, am I the only one here who thinks Black Jack's hiding something?!"
Erza sighed in disapproval as she took another bite of her strawberry cheesecake. "Just because he carries a similar scent to Wendy and Gajeel doesn't reveal anything significant, Natsu. Johannes uses Requip Magic like me, nothing more. Don't even think about storming down to New Everton and demanding answers."
"But what if that jerk knows where Igneel is? I'll pound it outta him if I have to!"
"Quit your bawling, pyro." Salamander turned his head furiously towards the bar, where a man with wild black hair and an unruly scowl was lounging against the countertop. "Didn't you hear what that Zirconis guy said back in Crocus? Acnologia got rid of the dragons a long time ago, chances are your daddy didn't make it, along with Metalicana. Plus, haven't we been over this? He abandoned you, same as me. Let it go and move on."
Natsu slammed his hands against the table and pushed himself to his feet, causing Happy to wince in surprise.
"We all have to believe in something, metalhead, and he didn't abandon me. Who the hell have you ever been loyal to?"
"At least I'm not wasting my life chasing after someone who never gave a damn about me."
Pantherlily grimaced and folded his tiny arms. "Gajeel."
"Why don't you come over here and say that to my face?"
"Gladly. I hope Igneel taught you how to throw a punch before walking out on ya."
"Same to you, 'cause I'm about to KICK YOUR ASS!"
Before anyone had a chance to do anything, the dragons slammed into each other like two raging bucks fighting over a mate.
"Well, I'm glad to see everyone's adjusting." quipped Master Makarov, who took a calm sip of coffee as he watched the excitement unfold. "So, Mira, are you heading off to Akane with the rest of them? Erza can't keep these brats in line all by herself." Ignoring the flames and bits of iron flying around the guildhall, Mirajane responded in her usual, cheerful manner. "Oh, of course! Kinana said she can handle the bar alone for a week, and Lisanna can lend a hand if things get too hectic. Everyone's excited, but I really wish you could come with us, Master. Things just won't be the same."
The short man hummed and put down his mug. "No, this is your reward, child. You're the ones who saved this guild, not me. Also, I'm pretty sure our dear friend, Bolton, didn't include me on the guest list."
Hm. Bolton. The elderly man had met many volatile men throughout his travels, just look at Natsu, but there was just something different about that oligarch. His old eyes narrowed in contemplation. When Johannes, who is commonly regarded as Fiore's most successful citizen, first stepped through the door in the Grand Banquet, Makarov immediately knew something was off. That aura… he couldn't quite put a finger on what it meant.
There were clear signs of arrogance, malevolence even, in addition to a ridiculous amount of magic power. However, something else was thrown into the mix, subtle, yet painfully obvious. Something he saw in his beloved children countless times throughout the years.
Pain.
"Look, old man," drawled Laxus, who saw Natsu throw Gajeel into an unsuspecting pillar, "I love vacations as much as the next couch potato, but I'm telling you, that guy's bad news. Maybe Salamander's on to something here. Jack Bolton didn't have to be raised by a living dragon, they could've just stuck a Lacrima in his noggin as Ivan did to me. Either way, that scumbag would have to jump through a lot of hoops to keep his abilities and past a secret, the only question is why."
Mira delved deep into her conscience as the lightning mage explained his theory. The bodies of the springtails Johannes killed back in that iron mine did raise a couple of red flags. They were shredded and ripped apart like venison in a butcher's shop. Now that she thought about it, no firearm could have inflicted that kind of damage, nor would any other traditional weapon kept in a Requip Dimension.
So, it's either Jack kindly convinced those monsters to disembowel themselves, or he was lying.
"Maybe going to the resort isn't such a good idea, after all…"
The barmaid shook her head frantically. All of these conspiracy theories and accusations, it was silly. Even Ishgar's most powerful businessman wouldn't dare to try anything that drastic. Fairy Tail's strongest would stand ready against any obstacle, Bolton had no chance. No, this was just going to be a relaxing week at the beach, paid by a man who… really wasn't all that bad if you got to know him. Sure, Jack was loud, crude, and a bit of a hothead, but that was just a mask, a performance to hide the insecurities and flaws hidden deep inside his heart.
Mira would know, she did the exact same thing during her early years in Fairy Tail. That bullying nature the girl was once so well known for was simply a means to cope with the shame of getting Lisanna, Elfman, and herself exiled from their hometown all those years ago.
Unusual as it sounds, Mirajane saw a certain… sincerity behind his actions. Johannes was a completely open book who valued freedom above all else, who took exactly what he wanted when he wanted it and didn't give a damn about what anyone thought of him. There was something to be said for that. The man would fit right in as a Fairy Tail wizard.
Jack was greedy and dishonest, but he was also brave and courageous. The oligarch would have taken on that whole springtail colony by himself if she and her siblings didn't intervene, a task that was most likely suited for an experienced S-Class mage. Speaking of which, even Erza's death glare back in the palace didn't have any effect on him, an action that would have left most men running away in tears.
The things those shining blue eyes must have seen, all those hardships he must have endured. It was like suffering through a cliffhanger in a storybook, leaving her with a deep desire of wanting to know more. "So what do you think, Mira? Think he's boyfriend material?" Mira's cheeks heated up ever so slightly.
"Don't let the lightning get to your head, boy. Even if this man is a Dragon Slayer, and that's a very big if, I see no reason to make a fuss over it."
"Whatever you say, Gramps, just don't come running to me when he stabs you in the back."
"Come on, what's there to worry about? Let's give the redneck a chance." said a relaxed, feminine voice from two stools down. "Seven whole days of sushi and liquor sounds like my cup of wine. Oh, that reminds me, let's a get a refill over here, Mira!" The barmaid rolled her eyes playfully and poured some more ale into Cana's mug. She just naturally assumed the brunette wouldn't protest to a full week of non-stop drinking.
"This rich guy can't be too much of an asshole, right? This is a lot of cash he's burning for us." Macao snorted from beside her and gulped downed the rest of his own glass. "Don't count on it," he drawled, "you've never had the displeasure of meeting him."
"IDIOTS! CEASE THIS NONSENSE."
Unsurprisingly, the chaotic bar fight was brought to an abrupt halt by none other than Erza Scarlet, who finally managed to pry the two enraged Dragon Slayers apart. "Remind me, is this a guildhall or a battlefield? Settle your petty vendettas elsewhere!" Natsu grunted and tore his arm from the knight's grip.
"He started it."
"Oh, that's a load of bull! Salamander ca-"
"I don't care who started it. What are you, nine? This is why the Magic Council thinks our guild is full of savages. We're taking the early train to Akane tomorrow morning, and I'm willing to bet neither of you has even started packing yet. Go home and see to it!"
Grumbling indignantly, the two combatants stalked away.
Mira could already feel a headache coming on. Mystogan obviously couldn't accept the invitation, and Elfman insisted on staying here with their little sister. So, there's going to be four Dragon Slayers, a redheaded disciplinarian, a stripping ice mage, a functioning alcoholic, a dramatic blonde, a lovesick rain woman, and herself all under the same roof. The train ride alone is going to be a healthy test of patience.
Forget Acnologia, going through a week in paradise without killing each other is bound to be their greatest challenge yet.
"a + b = c?"
The elderly woman, whose expression revealed nothing, folded her arms. "Do you think, or do you know?" Baylon swallowed a lump that built up in his throat. Nervously, the young Rainfall replied, albeit with a false sense of confidence.
"I kn-"
"Wrong. Pythagorean Theorem is a squared plus b squared equals c squared. Did you neglect your homework assignment from yesterday? Get a new piece of parchment and try again." Pinned beneath his tutor's stern, unimpressed gaze, the boy felt weak, powerless even, in the Grand Library of Sailor's Hill. Our minds are sharper than swords, at least that's what Arlon always said, he didn't have the nerve to question him.
There was a point in history where brute force and mindless strength were favoured above all else in Earth Land, but that time has passed. Sure, it's important to have the best cutlass, but it matters a hell of a lot more who's swinging it. Without patience, without study, the Admiralty had nothing.
The noble simply didn't understand what mathematics had to do with it.
Sitting at an intricate, pyrewood desk centered in the hall, with the woman looming behind him, Baylon Rainfall tried again.
"Listen up. If one of the legs is 13 centimeters, and the other is 15 centimeters, what's the length of the hypotenuse? You have three minutes." Along with sorcery and marksmanship, an aspiring Lord Admiral was educated in just about every mind-numbingly boring subject one could think of. Depressing as it sounds, the boy spent just as much time with a pistol as he did with a quill. Surely the fleet wouldn't be commanded from a dusty old book chamber.
Ms. Nightswood, a teacher with decades of experience, waited patiently as Baylon frantically scribbled numbers on the fresh sheet of parchment. Her cold gaze softened as he tried his very best to answer the problem correctly, to prove his house was the bravest, the sharpest. Well, that, or the boy was just fearful of being scolded.
Nightswood wouldn't say it out loud, but she'd grown fond of the young man over the years.
There was so much potential in little Baylon. She taught kids who were smarter, hungrier, but none had his character. There was something in those bright emerald irises that countless other children so blatantly lacked. Determination. Truthfully, the woman feared what Lord Arlon had in store for him. Whatever heartache that sociopathic bastard planned on bringing into his life would certainly be undeserved.
"I've finished, Ms. Nightswood," he said professionally, "how did I do?" Taking the sheet in her long, wrinkled fingers, the tutor let out an unladylike grunt as she scanned it for any imperfections. "Your handwriting is foul as ever, little urchin, but the rest of it will suffice. You'll be getting a similar problem in tomorrow's lesson, so it would be unwise not to practice. Now, that's enough Trigonometry, it's time for Algebra. I can tell you're just beaming with excitement."
Baylon let out a hearty chuckle as the woman took a seat next to him. "Well, Teacher, I've never been overly fond of math. Haven't you ever wondered what life is like outside these tall, daunting walls? The Cobalt Sea must be ripe with adventure!"
Ms. Nightswood scoffed and rolled her eyes as she straightened out some papers. "Boys are such simple creatures at your age. All you care about right now is guns and warships, but just wait until you grow up and meet the right girl. Chasing after her is the only thing you'll be concerned with, I've seen it countless times before."
All boys his age? Surely that wasn't the case. He grew up with many other children in Sailor's Hill. Knights in training, servants, irritating little brothers, they were a particularly rowdy bunch. Uncle Ryhard often joked that his house could put a wizard guild to shame with all the noise their young made. However, there was one exception, one Rainfall that stood out from the rest, and Baylon couldn't help but indulge his sense of curiosity.
"What was Lord Arlon like, Ms. Nightswood? How did he behave when he was twelve, like me?"
The elderly teacher stopped and turned her head, old eyes narrowing in contemplation. "What brought out that question?" He simply shrugged and smiled. "Well, you said that all boys are the same, so what was he like? It's hard to picture him as anything else."
This discussion was bound to come up one way or another, Baylon was always the curious type, a trait that could very well get him strangled later on. A few brief moments of silence passed before she reluctantly answered.
"The Lord Admiral was… different from the others in his childhood years. Even back then, he was smarter than most of those foolish advisors his father surrounded himself with. You Rainfalls have so much pride in your hearts, and Arlon was no exception. The little equations I assign to you now were nothing to him."
A twinge of sadness passed through her otherwise serious complexion.
"But from birth all the way to adulthood, the man has never smiled. Not once."
The novice looked disturbed by these words but didn't stop Ms. Nightswood from continuing. "Not during any of our celebrations, not at any of his weddings, not even when his sisters were born. I would know. I was there. Lord Arlon, the Raging Sea, the Butcher of Elvara, never made a single friend in his entire life. How could he? Everyone was beyond terrified of him. After all these years, I never fully understood what he was so angry about. Even before his parents died, that was simply the way he was. Does that answer your question, Master Rainfall, or can we proceed with your teachings?"
This was the son of Ryhard she was speaking of? Impossible. Before Baylon could prod his teacher for an explanation, a loud, firm rap on the library door captured the pair's attention.
It opened without waiting for a reply, revealing an armoured woman with long, auburn hair who seemed intent on making her presence known.
"Master Baylon, the Lord Admiral has requested your presence. Allow me to escort you."
The knightess was clad in a truesteel breastplate with matching leggings, polished to utter perfection. She wore a blue cloak on her back, emblazoned with a ferocious-looking sea serpent, and at her hip, an even more ferocious-looking broadsword.
Lucilia's amber eyes were a bit further apart than most other women, but that did nothing to hinder her beauty. Baylon felt embarrassed just thinking about it, but he couldn't help but admire the warrior, despite the fact that she was a decade older than himself.
"Ah, Lady Lucilia. I'm afraid we haven't finished today's lesson yet. Return later. I'm sure Arlon can wait another hour."
"I don't recall asking you, Nightswood," hissed the swordswoman, "Lord Arlon claims it's urgent. Please follow, Master Baylon. We both know the consequences of keeping him waiting."
The old tutor grimaced. Rainfall's attack dog was never the likable type. It's funny, really, ten years ago the thought of a woman carrying around weapons and donning armour would be laughable around these parts, especially one so pretty. Laughable, until Lucilia came along, that is.
"Quickly, Young Master." The boy looked at his teacher, who nodded her head, signaling for him to follow the knight's instructions. "Go on, we'll continue tomorrow." Shuffling out of the large, pyrewood chair, Baylon offered Ms. Nightswood a quick farewell before hastily making his leave. The elder sighed heavily as she gazed at the empty worksheets scattered across the desk. Her little urchin of a student wasn't a mere infant anymore, the time of manhood was rapidly approaching, Lord Arlon commanded it. If he was destined to be riddled with arrows by a pack of marauding elves, or faced with a watery grave at sea, then Nightswood prayed it wouldn't happen in her lifetime.
It's true what they say about Rainfall men. They never die in their beds.
Lucilia remained silent as they navigated through the long, cobblestone halls of Sailor's Hill, a hand kept on the hilt of her blade as if she was expecting a would-be assassin to strike from around the corner. Baylon considered asking the soldier what Arlon was like in his childhood years, considering the two met when they were about his age, but decided against it. He would probably just get brushed off.
The young Rainfall couldn't remember a time when he caught his older cousin smiling, but he never really thought much of it until now. The current Lord Admiral had always been an enigma, even to those closest to him, a puzzle that Baylon wasn't entirely sure he wanted to solve. Even King Toma was wary of him, among many others.
Foolish politicians like Defense Minister Darton and Master Org have feebly protested their actions in the past, but their voices were just as powerless as the many corpses hanging from the ramparts of Port Ryhard.
Genocide, they call it. Dead wrong.
Cousin Arlon said the elves are bringing death and pestilence to their beautiful land, defiling everything they touch. They worship false gods and practice wretched traditions. If those creatures had their way, all of Fiore's men would be dead, and all its women enslaved. Elusive and cunning they are, especially their cruel leader, Rayne Clover, who always managed to avoid capture at the last possible moment.
Should an exterminator be called a monster for driving a pack of rats from his home? Of course not.
He would fight to end the elvish infestation, no matter the cost.
The knight guided Baylon to an ominous flight of stairs, which led to Lord Rainfall's personal tower in the fortress. Stairways going upwards usually symbolized a transcendence to heaven, or whatever you believe in, but not these stairs. It was quite dark, having no windows and very few torches to light the way. Baylon began to climb, the seconds dragging on to minutes, and minutes dragging on to eternity, their light footsteps echoing off the foreboding walls.
Those who didn't know any better might confuse this setting for an evil cavern, one which hosted a dark, terrible monster, and even darker secrets. The boy wondered why his older cousin wanted to speak with him under these circumstances. Was it truly so imperative that they speak at this very moment? Was it necessary to rip him away from the education Arlon insisted was fundamental to their family's success?
Fortunately, Baylon wouldn't have to wait long to receive an answer.
Upon reaching the top, the pair was met with a set of colossal, mighty doors, which seemed more suitable for a castle rather than a single man's office. It was flanked by two identical banners, baring House Rainfall's sigil, the Blue Sea Serpent. Lucilia knocked on it with an armoured fist, which reverberated loudly around them, before turning the golden knob.
Rainfall wasn't seated at his desk filing reports, nor was he conducting a torturous interrogation. Instead, the Lord Admiral simply stood there by the window, gazing down calmly at the great harbour below.
With his back turned and hands clasped firmly behind his back, Arlon gave no immediate sign that he acknowledged Baylon's arrival. Lucilia ushered the boy inside, and after a quick bow, closed the door behind him. When Ryhard commanded the fleet from this very room, there were at least a dozen paintings hanging all over the place, primarily of his alluring wife and three children. Baylon never understood why Arlon took them down.
Much like the noble's expression, these walls revealed nothing.
"You wanted to see me, cousin?"
Lord Rainfall tilted his head, that terrible glare fixated on nothing of particular interest.
"How many did we hang in the past month?"
What? Disturbance and confusion washed over the boy's mind like a tidal wave. That sudden quietness urged Arlon to push him further.
"Go on, what's your best guess? How many executions did the Admiralty perform in these last thirty days? Pirates, thieves, elves, the lot of them. Give me a number."
Paralyzed with shock, Baylon felt his lips go dry as he tried to think of a suitable answer. What was the Pythagorean Theorem again? No, that was for triangles! What kind of test was this? Why was such a rhetorical question sparking such emotion within him? Gathering up his few years of knowledge and experience, Baylon gave the most intelligent answer he could think of.
"Ten?"
Rainfall didn't sigh or grimace, he simply turned to face him and blinked.
"Ten," Arlon deadpanned, "a valiant effort, but I'm afraid you're incorrect. Lady Nightswood must be straying from topics that hold actual importance." The man walked forward and rested a hand on his chair.
"Try three hundred."
Baylon balked. That was quite the kill count in such a short period of time. He waited for the lord to snicker and reveal that this was just a joke, but like always, that smile never came.
"T-Three hundred? But why? That's… unheard of! Our people don't deser-"
The vengeful Lord Rainfall held out a hand to silence him, his Wizard Saint pendant gleaming dangerously in the sunlight passing through the window, but it wasn't nearly as dangerous as the glint of disapproval passing through his eyes.
"Approach. Take a look good look at Throne Harbour and tell me what you see."
Nervously and wordlessly, Baylon complied, forcing his legs to move him to the other side of the chamber. The view was indeed breathtaking from all the way up here, but he wasn't entirely sure what Arlon was referring to. It seemed like an average day in Sailor's Hill. Knights and soldiers were sticking to their patrols, workers were busy unloading supply ships, and highborn ladies were out enjoying the sunlight with their daughters. Yes, just a typical morning.
"Well? Tell me what you see," the Admiral repeated, "does anything catch your eye?"
The younger Rainfall shook his head.
"Ships? Docks? Waves?"
Arlon took a step closer. "Try harder." The poor boy took another long look across the ocean.
"Nothing?"
"No, Baylon, not nothing. The sea."
He pointed west. "Sail seven days straight that way and you'd still be in the sea." The Lord then pointed south. "Five days that way," Arlon finally pointed north, "and three days that way. The sea is a fundamental aspect of Ishgar's survival, and we rule the sea. The sea is ours, and God knows I'll do whatever's necessary to protect it. Now, you speak of cruelty and unjust treatment among our people? Cutthroats, rapists, and elves are no people of ours, my father never fully understood that. War is a blemish, an ugly stain on humanity, a bad pun played by the creators on their own creations, but you must realize I have no other choice. Perhaps you'd think it better to lock ourselves away in this castle and allow our citizens to fend for themselves?"
Baylon Rainfall clenched his teeth, but if Arlon registered this, he chose not to comment. "Of course not, Lord Admiral." The noble hummed before continuing. "Three hundred executions, and yes, that does include children, evil takes many different forms. Not too long ago, you insisted on being ready to leave these high walls, to assist in preserving our legacy. Well, here's your chance to prove it." He gestured for Baylon to sit on the chair in front of his desk and then sat down himself.
"You will go to the Town of Seabreeze and represent House Rainfall in my stead."
The young boy gaped in disappointment. This is far from what he hoped.
"Seabreeze? What's there in Seabreeze? There's no crime, no pirates, no elves, surely I-"
"Elves? No, something much worse, little cousin," those emerald irises shone with amusement, "Mermaids."
Baylon tilted his head in confusion. "Mermaid Heel is interfering with our plans to expand beyond the Stormwall. Although they're unfit to wield blades and magic, those harlots do have a certain stubbornness to them. The Magic Council has called for a summit which will take place two weeks from now. It will be held in their guildhall. You will go there and sway the vote in our favour."
He heard stories of that Mikazuchi girl, of how she battled Titania and nearly won. The exclusively all-female guild has been a major thorn in their side for years. If Baylon did well, perhaps Lord Ranfaill would finally recognize him as a man instead of a novice. However, this would be difficult, as he had little to no political experience. Seeing the hesitation in his eyes, Arlon made an attempt to be reassuring.
"Rogers and Singleton will accompany you, as well as Lucilia, who will lead your escort. Topics such as trade and naval presence will surely be brought into question. Postpone your "lessons" with Lady Nightswood and go meet with my advisors, they will elaborate further. Meanwhile, I will be personally assisting the Bolton Company with a little endeavor. There's no room in our itinerary for disappointment."
Arlon took an empty sheet of parchment from a pile on his desktop, along with a quill and some ink. As if the conversation never happened to start with, the noble lord continued writing and sealing documents, which served as a noiseless order to leave. Arlon Rainfall had never been one for wasting breath.
Standing up, Baylon walked across the chamber back to the door, only to stop himself when he took hold of the knob.
"I'm nervous, Lord Admiral."
The Wizard Saint didn't even bother looking up.
"Does the thought of facing those mermaids unman you, Baylon? There are only so many days until the meeting, so I suggest you make use of your time."
That ice-cold tone cut him deeply, like a sharpened war knife, but the boy did his best to seem unfazed. Shame and embarrassment shot through Baylon's heart, but he wouldn't falter, not here. He was a Sea Serpent! Strong, tenacious, unmoving!
"Cousin Arlon wants Seabreeze? I'll serve it to him on a golden platter."
The noble almost smiled as he was left alone in the room. Almost. Perhaps Lady Nightswood was right. Boys are such simple creatures, and so easily controlled by their emotions. The youngling would make a fine replacement if his infertility persists, but that shouldn't be an issue assuming Bolton wasn't a filthy, lying, scheming Antegrien like the rest of them. Speaking of which, he'd best start preparing for his own little departure.
The weather in Akane was breathtaking this time of year, the Lord Admiral just couldn't wait.
X782
"BLOOD DRAGON ROAR!"
A crimson stream of wrath and destruction shot out of Jack's mouth, obliterating the massive boulders he had gathered with relative ease. The young Bolton had grown much stronger these past few years, almost to a point where one could make an argument that he wasn't even human. Then again… was he? While most kids his age were out playing baseball and eating apple pie, Johannes was here, prowling in the dark, learning deadly sorcery and hurling around objects over five times his weight.
His cravings for battle, for the touch of a woman, for blood, were they normal? Was this the Antegrien Dream? He grunted and assured himself that it didn't really matter. Mother said this is what Jack had to do, and mother always knew best. The cave walls rattled violently as pieces of rock and other debris scattered throughout the stone flooring.
"Marvelous, son, simply marvelous! Imagine what you'll be like ten years from now." That soothing voice caressed Johannes's eardrums as his red orbs returned to their pleasing shade of blue. "Thank you, Draclana. How about I try these spells out on some living targets? There's a bandit camp not too far from here." In truth, Jack was a bit nervous performing these spells in a cave, especially one this small. At any given time, it could collapse on top of him, however, the dragon informed him multiple times this environment was perfectly safe.
"Oh, heavens no, little one! When you finally show this broken, pathetic world what you're truly made of, you need to be big, strong, inspiring! Someone who commands respect, a man fit to rule." He frowned and kicked a tiny pebble further down the tunnel. "What? Am I not strong now?" A soft chuckle echoed in the halls of his mind. "Don't be such a grump, Jack! There's just so much room for improvement, that's all. Now, we'll try the talons next. Go find some more boulders."
The teenager, using his enhanced eyesight, navigated himself effortlessly through the shadows. Admittedly, the mysterious voice has made his life easier in countless different ways. He could hear things he couldn't usually hear, see things he couldn't usually see. Little mice running in the sewers, the rattling of carriage wheels from two blocks down, even the rapidly shifting heartbeat of his latest victim. Nothing escaped him. Nothing… except her, of course.
"Mother, are you really a dragon?" questioned Jack as he continued walking.
"Why of course, darling! You're a Dragon Slayer, after all. Natsu of Fairy Tail was trained by the great Igneel, although he would get slaughtered locking horns with you. Make no mistake, we are quite real, lacking in numbers, but real nonetheless. I had just the loveliest black scales back in my younger days."
Johannes paused. "Apologies. Sometimes I have a hard time believing that. No one knows what you even look like."
A gust of howling wind blew past him.
"Well, not all of us have the luxury of a physical form, friend. Take a leap of faith, why don't you?"
The blood wizard clicked his tongue in irritation. Draclana knew exactly what he wanted, and yet she insists on avoiding the subject, why? Fine, Jack would breach the topic himself. Dragons weren't known for their subtlety, after all. He forced his legs to stop, causing some nearby bats to hiss at him for disturbing their slumber.
"When will it be time?"
"Time for what, Johannes?"
"To set you free."
The boy felt the shadows encroach on him. "This again? Do you remember our little conversation regarding patience, young man? Someday, not today, probably not tomorrow, but someday."
Vague as always. The riddles, the mind games, what was the point of it all? Was this just some kind of sick game to her? Ever since they first met, his adoptive mother always left him with more questions than answers, like a Rubik's Cube. Jack asked the Blood Queen countless times why she was even locked up in the first place, but just like many other topics, it simply went ignored, and that infuriated the boy.
"How about next week? Or next month? Can I get a timeframe here?"
No answer.
"Hello?" After waiting a few more moments, Bolton snarled and continued marching. He read those stupid history books about the Draconic Period. The "Dance of Dragons", the alleged war sparked by Draclana, was all a lie, there's no other conclusion that made sense. History is a set of lies we just happen to agree upon, fables written solely by the victors.
The fact that so many people didn't even believe in dragons baffled Johannes. Why was it such a difficult concept to grasp? People believe in terrible demons like Deliora, and vile curses like the one cast on Galuna Island, but not dragons.
Why, in a universe overflowing with sorcery and wonder, does the existence of fire-breathing reptiles seem so… improbable?
His dragon is nonchalant, strange, and a bit off-putting, but not cruel, not evil.
People are fickle creatures that scorn the things they don't understand, such as blood magic. It wasn't pretty in comparison to the spells cast by fire or ice wizards, nor was it noble in comparison to swords and shields, so they ignorantly chose to hate it, and Jack hated them in return.
Nothing around him mattered, not the petty opinions of the sheep, not the shepherds that call themselves politicians. Not Antegria, not his father, none of it. Everything could burn, for all he cared.
Draclana saved him, gave him a fighting chance, and yet history decided to take a king-sized shit right on her name. That angered Johannes. Will he be remembered in the same way? As a tyrant? A monster? Oh, who was he kidding, what difference did it make? He would free his dragon if it killed him, or anyone else, for that matter.
Then, when her shackles were broken, the two of them could watch the world burn together.
