Dragon(s)layer
18
Dragons and Cities
{Ace Combat 7 OST: Dual Wielder}
The Fallen loved cool winds. They reminded him of a lot of different places he'd been where things had slowed down, where nobody needed him.
The weather was fair throughout the flight, leaving him free to scan the gray horizons and the formation of dragons flying around him. They truly were graceful creatures. Their limbs were tucked against their chests and bellies, their variously colored wingspans were stretched, and their gem-like eyes were perked as they picked out clouds and waves in search of threats.
Ignitia hadn't made an effort to converse with him, even through paw gestures. The wind was a tunnel up here, and nobody could hear anyone anyway. Though the Fallen could pick out questions unspoken among the flock.
Soldiers were shooting him glances constantly, eyeing up the 'Alien' riding on the back of their famous Guardian of Fire. If he had ever been a self-conscious man, he might've found the attention distractingly bothersome.
But Spyra was beside him and Ignitia the whole time to keep his focus fixed. She tried to get his attention by doing all kinds of tricks, flipping, rolling or diving in death-defying loops. Every time she completed one, her purple eyes would flash at him, as if seeking his approval. His smile placated her as she dipped her wingspan and displayed their full orange lengths for him, extending her hourglass form against the current.
She really was beautiful.
Pride built in his chest. Such prime derg-puss, and it was all his. Life was good.
Ouch.
On the downside of sitting up here for this long, his body was aching up a storm. His ribs still hurt, and his nose too. Zargos had really messed up his face. He couldn't even touch the dressings without cringing from a stab of cold pain.
Ignitia rolled one of her shoulders a few times, nodding to the east when he touched her neck to let her know he was listening.
Fog bustled around a very distant maze of tall, jungle-capped cliff islands. They looked like phantoms in the white glaze, further accentuated by the overcast weather.
Tall Plains.
They were under Ape occupation. The Fallen was already drawing up plans in his mind to get down there and mess up their days.
Later.
He had to be patient. But the opportunity for some more kills was tempting, to be sure. He did enjoy variety with his tallies.
Soon Tall Plains was gone. Ignitia again shoulder-hailed him and nodded to something. Some of the dragons in the formation shifted positions, the ones without Moles or supplies on their backs taking up the eastern forefront.
The Fallen at first thought a flight of crows was passing them. Further inspection revealed them as a flight of distant Dreadwings.
There were five of them, flying in tandem from the Wings, their howling screeches barely audible over the wind.
Though itching for a fight at the mere sight of dragons, the Ape riders weren't fools. They didn't engage and eventually broke off to turn back for Tall Plains. The Fallen had still kept a hand on his crossbow the whole while, and many of the soldiers had tensed around their tails, readying the various bladed weapons strapped there.
Taliopia pulled up beside Ignitia and gave him a paw-gesture, a slight run down her nose, her chest, her arms, followed by a blink and shrug.
How are you feeling?
The Fallen winced as his ribs screamed, but he gave her a thumbs up anyway.
The sky cleared then. Brilliant blue was everywhere within minutes, the gray overcast peeling off their flanks like discarded paper shreds. Spyra looked like a hatchling first emerging from the egg. The Fallen shielded his brow from the now blaring rays of the sun and scanned the crisp horizon of the oceans below.
He spotted land past Ignitia's umber horns. She craned her neck back and smiled at him as best she could.
From what she and Harad had told him, this was the Highrise Bay, and it made the majority of the southern coast of the Dragon Realms.
Tall cliffs footed with sharp rocks stood beautifully, each capped with rolling grasslands thinly wooded above. There were some black strips bobbing in the water across the bay. Mole steamships, churning distant fingers of white smoke that crawled into the air from stacks and puffers.
There was a city built into a whole line of the coastal cliffs. It was a pattern of ribbed archways, artificial canals and sprawling buttresses. A pair of lighthouses sprouted from a rocky archipelago sealing in the otherwise Mole-made bay of extensive piers and docking moorlands. Tens of ships sat here, serviced by gear-spoked crank cranes and even a stilted highway running from the largest pier cluster. Wagons came to and from it and vanished into a tunnel in the cliffs.
That had to be Beacon, Warfang's satellite port. Ignitia said it was the busiest harbor in the world, acting as a link with the rest of the Dragon Realms and the eastern continents.
The grasslands and hills past the cliffs extended for miles, hugging the edges of a sprawling city. The walls were immense, the castles and spires grand. It looked like gold as the sun shimmered off all the tiled domes and temple roofs.
Warfang.
There were dragons flying like clusters of pigeons everywhere. The Fallen could pick out brass, fang-mouthed cannons lining the defense palisades. Banners bearing blue and gold dragon-iconography flowed in the wind, and two massive aqueduct arch-bridges extended to the north and south, one to a small tower hovel beside Beacon, and another vanishing into the peaks of the snow-capped mountain formations sealing the upper geography.
The Wings collectively dipped as one, forming a loose arrowhead again as the wind shrieked, and the city started to impossibly become larger.
The Fallen held onto Ignitia's spines and looked at Spyra, grinning at the stupefied look overtaking her face.
They passed over walls busy with Mole patrolmen and perched dragons. Hundreds of heads were upturned to watch the flight go as they recognized Ignitia's striking crimson body at the flank, and the strange creature she carried with her.
Word had obviously spread like wildfire. He knew it because after they passed a series of balconies, towering ornate spires and pathed roofs, they came upon a gigantic square with a spout-fountain marking its heart, and ringing side-gardens flanking its edges.
The square could easily hold an army, and with the number of people that had gathered here, it might as well have already been.
Thousands of Moles. The Fallen had heard they were numerous, but… holy shit.
Murmurings and cheers made a ruckus worse than the wind currents had been. The cobblestone street rushed up to them, and Ignitia fanned her tired wings as she touched gracefully down.
The chorus of praise increased in volume, colored streamer ribbons flying from the crowds in every direction. There was clapping, whistling. The Fallen painfully slipped off the Guardian's back and scanned the gathering.
"I hope that isn't all for just one of us." He called, leaning close to Ignitia.
"It is." Ignitia shouted back, pointing a tail. "For her."
Spyra was so overwhelmed that she couldn't stand straight. The poor purple dragoness had to sit herself down as she ate up all the sights around her. The skyscraping spires, the arched parapet walks, the masses of dragons in the air, circling the square, and the hundreds of them standing tall among the ocean of short rodent-people.
"Wow." –Was all she could whisper.
An Ape's scream pierced the noise as a fed-up Warfangian soldier bucked like a horse, and tossed Palmet from his saddle. The poor monkey fell face-first into the cobblestone, Meep squeaking as he clutched onto his leg for dear life.
"Stop trying to pick fleas off me! I don't even have any!" The soldier dragon snapped, looming over Palmet and bearing his fangs. "Filthy beast-"
The Fallen hobbled over and placed a hand on the soldier's breastplate. The dragon blinked and stepped back, eyes narrowed at the strange creature before him.
"Take a walk, friend." The Fallen smiled between his dressings. "He's with me."
The dragon's face lit with pure rage for a moment, but he simmered down, and let his temper deflate.
"Yes." He said, stepping back and towards the crowd, a glare passing lastly at Palmet as he made to right himself. "Just know his kind isn't welcome."
"Yep, figured." The Fallen gripped Palmet's mane and hoisted him up. "Stand, butler. We can't have you looking so downtrodden in the face of so many. You'll make me look bad."
"I fink I'm gonna be sick I am." Palmet's eyes darted around the crowds. Meep was shivering, bundled in the crook of his arms. "All dese peepol are given me vertigo, Master! I can't breathe! I CAN'T BREATH-"
The Fallen slapped him.
"Get it together, man."
"-Aye, aye… alrite… I… I fink I'm on a recoverin road rightly… yeh…"
Soldiers from the Wings fanned out to assist Mole guards in keeping the crowd at a line. Those carrying supplies (including the liberated records of Forlorn) were directed by Ignitia for a castle taking up the western flank of the square. Harad pushed his way to the front and nodded for the Fallen, Spyra and Ignitia to stay close to him.
"I have to go with Morinth!" Taliopia called to Spyra, even though they were standing right in front of each other. "She'll be in the medical wing! I'll come and find you when we get a chamber."
"What is that place?" Spyra shouted.
"Castle Wyrm, headquarters of the army." Taliopia shyly smiled. "I-It's cool looking, isn't it?"
"What did you say?"
"We gotta' go." The Fallen limped over and gently took Spyra's wing, nodding at Tali'. "We'll be back for both of you. Be careful."
Taliopia bowed before scampering off, following a pair of medics carrying Morinth on her saddle. The poor black dragoness tiredly extended a wing for them, but otherwise could do little else.
"I feel bad for her." Spyra called as they walked, sneering when they passed a pair of certain drakes. "Not for them though."
Corrinthol sneered right back as he and Torrdonal fell into line behind Harad. Torrdonal- for a change –actually looked pretty relieved to be back home. He even smiled at the Fallen.
"What do you think of it?" He asked, looking between him and Spyra.
"Beautiful." The Fallen quipped. "Where are we going? My legs are going to snap if I keep up like this."
Spyra blinked at the mention of his injuries and kept her tail coiled around his wrist. But she was too absorbed in grinning at the crowd and preening her wings for them. Thousands of people. All with their eyes on her. She suddenly became aware that she loved being an attention hog.
That wasn't to say people weren't looking at the Fallen too. But they didn't cheer for him. Instead, he was given curious stares, dropped jaws, and lots of folded arms. The dragons reacted poorer than the Moles. Many of them actually resembled Harad from when they had first encountered each other at the temple.
Stern, disapproving, untrusting.
The Fallen was used to it by this point. Worlds tended to not trust things not native to them. After all he'd seen, he couldn't necessarily blame them.
"People are wary of newcomers." Ignitia leaned over his shoulder. "Once they witness what you can do, all of that will go away."
"There sure are a lot of folks here." The Fallen said. "Morinth told me you were running out of soldiers."
"We are." Ignitia gestured with a wingtip. "The city is normally crowded with four times this number. We're standing in Immortal Square, it's the center heart of Warfang and where the army rallies for battle. The market districts break off from here, and see that street right there? That leads to the front gates. Before the war, the square was so packed that during the afternoon, dragons couldn't cross it by ground."
"What about the other Guardians? Will they be able to train Spyra?"
"I'm not sure."
"Why?"
"Because I don't know where they are." Ignitia huffed. "We're going to the Council Building, see it there?"
"You mean the one with the rows of solid gold dragon statues lining a flight of steps that'll probably kill me? I didn't even notice." The Fallen groaned. "I feel like a damned cripple."
"You served us greatly back there." Ignitia surprised him by slipping a powerful, soft wing under his legs and hoisting him like he weighed nothing. "And you saved all of our lives. I'm honored to assist you."
That's a mighty high change from this morning, he wanted to point out. The Fallen didn't bite the hand though, and gratefully nodded, holding onto her membranes as Harad and her wing-jumped up the massive flight of stairs.
The rest of the Wing and Spyra were soon after, and all of them passed under a massive arch frame centered with a pair of golden-bronze doors painstakingly carved with dragons in murals across their faces. These glinted in the sun and creaked as some unseen force parted them. The roar of the crowd began to simmer and the golden city became lost as they passed into a spanning lobby, which was contrastingly quiet.
A troupe of Mole warriors in black and gold armor formed a thin line at the foot of the steps.
Bonnggggg….
-The doors shutting echoed loudly. Now they could hear nothing but a little interior boom.
"Aw man, I wanna' go back outside." Spyra whined, staring at the doors. "That was some hell of a party! Is it always like that?"
"All will be explained as soon as we see the Council." Ignitia smiled warmly, setting the Fallen on his feet. "This was not my idea of a formal introduction to the capital, mind you me, but the Council was insistent they see for themselves the next Purple Dragon and the Fallen."
"Oi, this place is darker than da inside of an Anteata's beak hole." Palmet looked around, lightly drumming his fingers on Meep as he cradled the little sewer octopus. "Want meh ta carry yer dynamite bandos there, Master?"
"Not in this millennium." The Fallen blinked. "At least not in here. Though, if these people turn out to be assholes, I might reconsider."
Ignitia looked horrified.
"Oh jeez, I'm kidding." The Fallen spread his arms, and grunted when it hurt.
"I've never been inside the Council Building before." Torrdonal gulped, looking around. "There's no water in here, right?"
"There isn't much more to see, it's just daily examples of social elitism, boring law-talks and rule-sticklers." Corrinthol grumbled. "How long do I have to be here? I'm tired after all that little misadventuring."
"Amazing, the pack mule believes his thoughts matter." The Fallen creased a lip.
"I am not your pack mule, you fleshy twig-man!" Corrinthol snarled, soot trailing through his teeth as he approached the human threateningly, his wings opening.
Spyra growled like a wolf and placed herself, hunched, between him and the Fallen, her hindquarters raised in preparation for a predatory leap.
"I'm ready ta' go as soon as you are." She snarled, wiggling her hips like a cat readying to pounce.
Corrinthol lost his spirit instantly, and he clenched his jaws shut and stepped back, still angrily darting his attention between her and him.
While true, he was chomping at the bit to get a good rematch with the alien since their wrestling-match back at the temple, he was unwilling to attach that same foolhardy thirst for vengeance with the possibility of facing Spyra.
He'd seen her move, whipping all over Apes like they were standing still, ripping their faces to ribbons, gutting them, burning them alive, electrocuting them until they were nothing but blackened crisps…
Corrinthol gnashed his teeth at her pitifully in some vain attempt to maintain his draconic pride as he backed away.
"Wait until I tell my father about what the two of you did to me. You'll regret it." He sneered.
"Ah, I'm interested to see his reaction, if he's even half the bitch you are, then I can only imagine the barrage of girlish slaps and autistic rambling that is sure to come our way." The Fallen itched at his bandages.
"Enough." Ignitia snapped. "All three of you: temper yourselves and back off."
"I ain't the one temperin'." Spyra exposed her fangs as Corrinthol retreated. "You okay, Fallen?"
"As long as I have my bodaciously plump plum dragoness with me, I should be more than okay." He listed off quickly. In a flash, her attack-mode dropped like a brick, and Spyra sprung up like a gazelle, her side against his legs as she turned pink and giggled at him. "..And just as a note: you people don't skirt on formalities." The Fallen glanced around at the pillars lining the little lobby chamber, and the torches faintly lighting it amber. He paused, thoughts bouncing around inside his bandaged head. "How much do they know?"
"They know that a mystical being fell from the heavens, wiped out an army and defeated the Terror of the Skies in personal combat, to be blunt." Harad approached them. "The Councilors' expectations are high, for both of you. Don't embarrass us all with your usual tricks."
"Pffft, mystical." Spyra snickered, hip-bumping the human. "They must think you're a unicorn or some shit."
"Wait until they see the mule waltz in through the doors." He rolled his eyes. "Captain."
"Fallen." Harad looked torn for a moment, before he huffed, and the muscled earth dragon bowed to his forepaws before the Fallen.
Spyra's jaw dropped.
"Am I dreaming? Are we sure this is the same guy?" She whispered to Ignitia.
"For all our prior disagreements," Harad growled, holding the pose for not a second longer. "I cannot ignore that your actions secured the survival of my Wing. You have my gratitude."
"Don't sweat it, Hacksaw." The Fallen chuckled, his hands on his hips. "You fought well yourself. They should put a plaque up for you in that square: Captain Hashbrown, leader of the Wing that found the Purple Dragoness and her badass friend."
Harad sighed.
"The Councilors are waiting for you."
"Just be to the point, and all will be well." Ignitia fluffed her wings and cast her head back, making the Fallen laugh as she swept all her facial fins like a human woman would cast her hair. "Goodness, though their timing couldn't have been worse. Fresh from the field of battle and the strains of a flight. I probably look more disheveled than an Ape."
"Oi, I take slite offense to dat I do." Palmet stroked Meep. "An I say slite because while it is racially and insultin-wise… ya realleh ain't wrong. We look like walkin shite on the best'a days!"
"Best of days must be infrequent for your kind." Ignitia eyed the Ape toe to snout with distaste, then looked at a pair of doors at the end of the chamber. "Where are the sentries, Captain?"
"They want him," Harad nodded at the Fallen. "in there as soon as possible without incident. Many of the Councilors suggested the absence of warriors, against my opinion as an officer. But, where we came to an agreement: he must enter unarmed."
"I call B.S, we like our toys, thanks very much." Spyra frowned.
"It's fine. I'll do it as a gesture of good faith." The Fallen started to painfully slip all the gear hanging off his body onto the floor of the chamber. Several bandoliers of dynamite, two Ape swords, an axe, crossbow, pouch of bolts and rations, expended injectors, expended gun…
By the time he was done, a small pile was sitting on the floor. Harad blinked at it and finally angled his head.
"What about my butler?" The Fallen jabbed a thumb at Palmet.
"No Ape may pass beyond these doors." Harad frowned. "He stays here with the rest of your property."
"Ooo, how exotic that one, I ain't evva been referred tu as properteh befer." Palmet hummed, actually mulling the sentence over to decide if he found it belittling. He held Meep up and asked: "What do you fancy, Meep? Property is good, yeah?"
"Meep." The octopus rocketed out of Palmet's arms and buried itself in his back fur, giving off a little sneeze once it was settled that cast little Ape-hairs everywhere.
"Awrite, Meep, momma-Palm's got ya he does." Palmet squatted on the floor with a tiny ptt! –and grinned stupidly at the Fallen. "I'll polish yer gear while you're away, Master! It'll look nice an spiffy by the time ya come back from yer meetin proper."
"If I find out you spit-shined it, I'll peel off your eyelids." The Fallen pointed nonchalantly. "But otherwise: what a lovely suggestion! Get to it, butler. Now then Captain Hamazzle, after you…"
"Come with me." Harad rolled his eyes.
Harad led them through a smaller pair of bronze doors. They walked into a great domed dais chamber, where every movement was echoed and all the fringes were dark. A small incision skylight in the roof's heart showed a glimmering band of light from the sun that focused on a stone podium at the top of a staired roundel plat. Above, suspended behind a short wall, were rows of seating arrangements, stone futons for the councilmen to lounge over.
Most of them were filled with the eerie black visages of dragons, and all of their eyes were focused on the Fallen and Spyra, their faces hidden by the contrast of light surrounding the dome's center.
"…They're all staring." Spyra whispered, the dreadful silence truly getting to her. "Do I have something on my horns?"
"I think it's just what they do." The Fallen muttered, limping as he followed Harad. "Try to keep the vulgarity down, just for face's sake."
"No promises…" Spyra narrowed her eyes as she scanned the multicolored councilor dragons. "…I'm gettin' privileged-asshole-old-guy vibes from a bunch of 'em. Where's the tapioca at?"
"S-Ssshh." He snickered, fighting to not laugh.
"The Guardian of Fire returns to us unharmed." One of the councilors stood from his stone futon, revealing himself to be a red-scaled drake with half a horn missing and kind eyes. His scales were edged with yellow all down his body, making it appear as if his muscular torso was literally shimmering like liquid bronze as he moved. Athletics must have been a strong suit for him, for the development of his physique was almost chiseled, like it was carved from stone. "How are you, Ignitia?" He asked.
"Starbrun," Ignitia bowed her neck a tad. "I've been worse."
"You didn't meet any harm, I hope?"
"None unprevented."
"Is the session started now officially?" Another councilor, a blue one with a cyan underbelly, drummed his talons on his chin.
"Indeed." A white scaled dragon with a very nasally voice nodded. The Fallen felt his skin crawl at the sound of his voice. He just… had the voice of a douchebag, he didn't know how to explain it. "We can start promptly."
"With some measure of speed I hope, Condor." Another quipped. "Look at the state this… alien is in. You there, creature, are you not wounded?"
"Fuck yeah I'm wounded you old-"
Crunch!
Ignitia stepped on the Fallen's foot, making him grunt. The councilors all sat silent, waiting for an answer.
"Control yourself, and go to the podium." She mouthed at him.
"Are they all such dicks?" He growled over his shoulder.
"They're older than me by several centuries, what do you think?"
The Fallen grit his teeth and limped up the brief stairway, standing behind the podium for support. His bandages were really chafing and right about now, he didn't have the patience for an interrogation. God damned natives and their local governments…
"Yes, I'm wounded, but I was healed to the best of your Wing's ability." The Fallen spoke clearly. "I humbly thank you all for allowing us to present our case before you."
"You speak our tongue." Someone said.
"Common's common." The Fallen shrugged, eyes scanning the futon rows. "This is the entire Dragon Council of Warfang?"
"Yes. You were briefed on our attentions?"
"More or less."
"So, then questions may begin." Starbrun eyed the Fallen with interest. "I only have field reports from Captain Harad to base off of. Ignitia, is it true that you and this… being before us battled side by side?"
"He is one of the most skilled warriors I have ever seen." Ignitia nodded. The Fallen took a second to look back at her and flash a grin. He felt his chest leap when she responded with a sort of… sultry expression, a warm smile and a flutter of her amber eyelids.
Is her back arching?
The Fallen coughed, trying to rid his nose of the encroaching, flowery scent pinpricking at the edges of his attention.
"Where did you come from?" The question echoed out from the futons. He hadn't seen who had asked it, and so he settled for sweeping his eyes about the railing. The Fallen drummed his fingers on the podium, and glanced back at Harad and Ignitia, and then Spyra.
"…It's complica-"
"From the sky." Spyra piped up, her voice shrilly echoing around the dome.
"The Purple Dragon…" One councilwoman breathed. "Step closer into the light beside the alien."
"What, are we showing them off now like a pair of exhibited wildlife samples?"
"Silence please, I desire to get a closer look at both of them myself."
"Peace." Starbrun voiced calmly. "All will have their concerns addressed. Purple Dragon? Would you tell us your name?"
"What? Rocky back there didn't share?" Spyra raised a brow, hip-bumping the Fallen over and standing on her hinds with him on the podium's armrests.
Harad's minute growl whispered behind them, and Spyra snickered.
"We wish to hear it from you." Starbrun blinked politely, though obviously taken aback by her rudeness.
"Spyra." She grinned. "I'm purple, dangerous, and ready to solve your Dark Mistress problem with a lit-tal fie-yah, baby. Y'know what I'm sayin'?"
Some of the councilors chuckled, a handful growled, most of them just kept the constant displeased mugs they most likely wore every day.
Councilor Condor rose from his seat and walked down the row, until he was looking over the railing and into the ring below.
"What is that, exactly?" Condor asked, pointing a gray wingtip.
"What's what?" Spyra blinked.
"That, that attitude."
"I ain't got attitude."
"Mm. I want to remind the seats that we did not steal our schedules and our hearts for mere whims. We all might suffer petty, bemiring words of others, however..." Condor smiled slowly, eyes scanning the whole room. "I must ask you to stay on point."
"Did he just say I talk too much?" Spyra hoarsely hissed at Ignitia. "That son of a bitch! I'll kick his catheter in!"
"Sssh." The Fallen elbowed her.
"Does the female have something to add?" Condor was still smiling, his gray and white face revealed starkly on the edges of the skylight glare.
The Fallen ground his teeth. Now, he didn't just want to punch Condor, he wanted to shoot him. "You'll have to excuse any insults incurred there, my friend, those of higher station tend to cringe at the embarrassing attempts of guile from those with rotten tongues."
Condor snorted.
"What is your name, alien?" Starbrun settled back on his futon.
"I'm known as the Fallen, for I am nameless." The Fallen tore his eyes from Condor and nodded respectfully at the fire drake. "That's all the information I'm able to give on my own identity."
"Did you actually come from the sky?" Someone asked.
"Yes. I fell in a containment unit, and impacted in the Southern Marshes over two weeks ago. I'm not… from here." The Fallen sheepishly leaned on the podium top, minding Condor's scaly brow arching as his silver eyes scanned him top to bottom. "But I've come to the conclusion that the only way I can return to where I came from is by ceasing the hostilities consuming your world. Thus, even though I was originally forced to stay as a necessity, I was touched by the effort of your cause and have decided to side with you against the Dark Armies."
"Our world?"
"Your world, quite, which is one of many." He said.
Some hushed whispers trawled out among the rows.
"He's on our side." Spyra announced, her tail running over his legs under the podium. "I've seen him firstclaw! He wiped out an entire Ape army, and broke Cynder's tower."
"The Forlorn Watch?" Another councilor asked. "You are the one who orchestrated its destruction?"
"It was necessary to destroy Cynder's army in a single move." The Fallen nodded. "I understand that the tower was considered a relic, and it wasn't an option I took lightly, but we couldn't let the opportunity pass."
"Indeed, and with such effective engagement too." Condor sneered. "But what of the Terror of the Skies? What of the Black Wraith?"
"She escaped." The Fallen said. More muttering. "She's fled back to Concurrent Skies. She's currently suffering a fall-out with Malefora-"
"Don't say that name in these chambers." Condor smiled. "Con-tinue~."
"…she's held up in her castle." The Fallen glared darkly, becoming angrier when Condor didn't even blink. "Ignitia was also responsible for destroying her Vision Pool underneath the tower. It was transforming the landscape, and now that corruption is leaving the swamps. They can become fertile again."
"Maybe a hundred years ago, that would have been fantastic news." Starbrun sighed. "The Dragon Realms are in no position to consider reclamation of any kind. The South's loss to us has been… gruesome, bordering unendurable."
Ignitia sighed behind them and pawed at the first step on the dais.
"The whole Wing can vogue for the Fallen and Spyra." She announced. "Every single one of us, including the Captain, can attest to the human's skill in battle and his expertise which was integral in our victory over Cynder's forces."
"Um… y-yeah, yes. He was… amazing." Torrdonal stammered when the councilors looked in his direction. "And, well… he and Spyra work well together. I think."
"Ah," One of the councilors nodded. "so the two have become quite close from fighting beside one another?"
The Fallen coughed again, and Spyra purred as she bumped sides with him.
"Hee-hee… mmmyeaahhh~, we're close…" She snarkily rumbled, making the Fallen flush.
"He's very powerful." Harad grumbled.
"Aw, Hansel," The Fallen laughed. "I just might give you a hug when these bandages come off."
"It's Harad." The Captain grumbled defeatedly. "And stay away from me."
When all gazes fell on Corrinthol, the flame drake lowered his neck, his eyes darting around uncomfortably. For a minute, he locked eyes with the human, and his expressionless chops gradually evolved into a terrible sneer.
"No comment." He mumbled, hatefully staring the Fallen down. Ignitia shook her head at him. Some of the councilors started muttering to each other.
"What about my daughter?"
Another councilman stepped forth, a quaint, very thin white dragon with rose-colored eyes and wings. He had black horns, meek teeth, and a feathery gait, his judgments locked behind a studious gaze. His wings were huge, almost as big as Cynder's had been. They reflected light off their pink membranes beautifully, like flower petals shown through with sunlight.
"What has happened to Taliopia?" The dragon asked, his sharp voice echoing around the council chambers.
Thought he looked familiar… The Fallen cocked his head.
"Personal matters have no place in this." Condor said on the other side of the row ring, singsong, still giving that awful smile. Damn it, the Fallen wanted to punch him in the mouth. "I think what's more pressing is the rejection from a member of Captain Harad's Wing…"
"Our guests are fresh from the flight, coming from a journey that spelled much peril for all participating in the campaign due-South, I'll allow it." Starbrun said, his gaze sweeping over Condor disapprovingly. Anybody could feel the fiery beams shooting across the whole friggin' room. He and Condor probably hated each other passionately. "Councilman Leetol, you may ask your question."
"Well?" Leetol eyed the Fallen and Spyra, his expression breaking for a moment along with his voice. "How is my daughter? Was she hurt?"
"Your daughter was unharmed, and she is the one who fixed me." The Fallen rubbed tenderly at the dressings over his hands. "In fact, I'm going to see her about finishing these injuries off with some healing mixtures of hers after this convene. You should be proud, good sir, she has immense talent."
Leetol looked like a statue, an unsteady breath shivering out through his teeth. He didn't say anything further, and stepped back to his futon quietly, his huge wings crinkling as they folded behind his wiry neck.
"…That was… weird." Spyra whispered. "…He's just gonna' take everyone's word for it? Taliopia was talkin' up a storm back home, all about him and her mom. I can't tell if he just doesn't know how to care, or if he cares at all!"
"I'm going to make things easier on myself and believe it isn't that bad." The Fallen leaned closer. "But, no offense: you dragons seem to have a lot of parental issues."
"There was nothing wrong with my parents."
"Your parents were bugs."
"When you said cease the conflict in our world, what did you mean by that?" A councilwoman regained their attention.
"He meant stopping the war." Spyra chimed out loud, tearing from the little hush-hush she had been harboring with him over the podium. "What, did he speak a different language? Me and him are here ta' win. And we're gonna'! We just need a pointer or two in the right direction."
Spyra's tail was wagging up a storm as she hip-bumped the Fallen and looked back at Ignitia.
"So where do we start, baby?" She grinned.
Starbrun looked surprised up in his futon. He drummed his claws and opened his chops to speak-
"Blasphemy." Condor's laughter was as shrill as his tone, and its presence among the council ring was unpleasantly jarring. The Fallen imagined a make-belief firearm suddenly appearing by the dragon's black-horned head and blowing his brains all over the guard rail. "We have brought before us a child and a delusional, perhaps endangered member of a race undocumented since times of yore. How are we to believe that any of these events and their circumstances have occurred? Where might there be proof? Chieftain Visigoth has harried our forces since the last continental invasion years ago, defeating many dragons in personal combat. The Terror of the Skies, is also well known for her unmatched martial skill, I need not remind any drake or hen here…"
"Wait, just wait," The Fallen held his hands up, his arms painfully protesting. "you want proof?"
"That isn't much to ask for in light of the grand scheme of this little venture." Condor clucked, pressing his two burly, white-scaled forepaws on the guard rail to lean over the link imposingly. "What is a drake supposed to do when a pair of miscreants pose as the saviors of our world, and start dishonoring our holy sanctum with their decidedly imbecilic hallucinations?"
Spyra turned red as a tomato, literal steam starting to creep out of her nostrils. Her canine-esq growl reverberated around the whole chamber, and her claws dug little rents in the podium's stone. Condor looked pleased with the reaction he had caused, a smug expression swiping away any pause.
"The only hallucinations here are from those too old to be in any position of regard or judgment." The Fallen growled. "Is this the normal welcome to your grand city you give newcomers, Councilor Condor? Or are you naturally a bigoted sycophant who would have been better off having run down his mother's leg?"
Several of the councilors stormed to their feet, wings were spread, claws and teeth bared. Ignitia went pale as a sheet and Harad became so red that he almost looked related to Corrinthol.
"Peace." Starbrun spoke, glancing around the room. "We must have peace-"
Boisterous laughter suddenly erupted from one end of the futon rows. A portly dragon covered in yellow, white-dotted scales fell out of his futon and hit the ground with a walloped thud, his folded flesh jostling from both the impact and the heaves of his great chest. Starbrun didn't look amused, setting back on his seat with a rigid huff.
"Councilor Asden," The fire drake pinched the bridge of his snout. "I hardly think you're making this better."
"-T-The alien has my vote!" Asden cackled, several silvery necklaces hanging over his white-plated chest jingling as he rolled on the step. The dragon looked like a yellow marshmallow, cushioned by all his obese weight as to not even feel the sharp edges of each step he glanced over. "-Aha-! Ha-! Ahemmm~, ugh… excuse me."
Now, the council had gone from gawking at the alien to one of their own. They all watched as Asden peeled himself of the floor, jiggling with a last 'Aha!' –of hysterics, before he leisurely slipped his great folds back atop the futon. The Fallen- even from his distance –could liken the fat councilor to a content, overfed cat sinking warmly over a perch too small for its own girth, his folds covering the caramel covered talons poking out from his flipper-like paws. Asden did compose himself but failed to erase his grin. He ran a paw down the porcupine-like white frills running down his head all the way to the tip of his fat-rolled tail, glancing at the Fallen and Condor in turn.
"What I meant to say was: I respect a rightly deserved jab where it's needed." He smiled at Condor on the other side of the ring. "You can't go poking bee nests and not expect a stinger in your eye."
Councilor Condor looked unfazed by the stabbing remark. He merely kept his silver eyes locked with those of the Fallen. There was an unspoken resonance between both of them: enemy, and there really was no fixing that.
"Forgetting Asden's outburst, I think the Purple Dragon should be confined to the Guardian Temple to undergo penance, and this foreign creature should be locked in Warfang's dungeons." Said Condor pleasantly. "Consolidating what we can from this mess is our number one priority."
Spyra's wings flapped like loose parchment as she tried to leap over the podium at him, the Fallen caught her by the tail and yanked her back down.
"That is an extreme punishment for a slight you started, Councilor." Ignitia announced. "I recall Regulations, line fifty-five, stanza two, and remind the Council about our laws regarding a dragon's personal vendettas, and how they are banned when in office."
"We are all well aware of the rules our grandfathers wrote, Ignitia." Starbrun ran a claw down his snout, trying to appear in a good mood. "Councilor Condor, your suggestion is taken into consideration and is rejected."
Condor smiled. He had not stopped staring at the Fallen with menace, however.
"I accept with understanding." He finally said. "Forgive my brashness."
"And Fallen," Starbrun narrowed his reptilian eyes. "you're not in a situation to become smart with us, seeing as you're inside our city, in our Realms, at our mercy. Do you understand?"
The Fallen's face twitched, the sound of paper crinkling practically being heard as he forced his laugh-lines up into a smile.
"Crystally clear, Councilor." He blinked.
"...Very good." Starbrun tapped his talons and eyed around the room. The other councilors had all gone silent, even Asden, who still looked purely bemused by everything he had just witnessed. Leetol was staring at the floor, his jaw quirked as he mulled on something between the cracks of the stone. "Has anyone else any objections or queries for our charge?"
"Are there more of your kind coming?"
Ignitia surprised the whole room by stepping to the front of the podium and scrutinizing the Fallen with her amber gaze.
The human scratched his chin and gripped the sides of the podium, his fingers wriggling. The intermittent impalements of silence in this room were grating on his nerves.
"No, there are no more humans arriving via any means, pods, ships, by foot, from the air, nothing at all." He listed off. "My arrival in this world is over, and now that I'm trapped in the same boat as the rest of your people, I would say all of us need to work together to destroy Malefora and stop the Dark Army."
Starbrun gazed around the chamber as murmuring started to boil up from the rows. The councilors looked… well, nobody could really tell how they looked. Some looked enthusiastic, some angry, some like stone statues, some even appeared jocular, like the whole discussion had been a sick pun.
"We need time for consensus, I believe." Leetol reappeared in the discussion suddenly again, craning his long neck over to regard Starbrun across the dais rows.
"Indeed." Starbrun stepped off his futon and gestured a wingtip to those in the center of the chamber. "We still offer our extended wings of hospitality, Fallen, Spyra, we have no desire to turn away obvious allies to our cause, especially one who was deemed by prophecy to change everything."
Most discussions in the room ceased, putting Starbrun in a sort of spotlight. The old dragon licked his fangs and continued.
"I was not there to see what Ignitia and her Wing were there to see. I am being told that these two are great warriors, and that they desire to change a lifestyle we have maintained for centuries. I am an old drake, I've watched time pass me on all sides and have become familiar with its twists and grandeur, and its irony.
"Do I have my doubts about such claims? Yes. Do I believe that this journey propositioning us right at this second will be hard, and arduous, and confusing and terrifying? All yes. However…" Starbrun flashed a smile at Ignitia, his wings preening behind him. "…the esteemed Guardian of Flame of Warfang has come to her own consensus, and long loyal soldiers and an officer of our Northern Army have all supported the newcomer's claims. I see no reason to deny guestship to them in our city.
"Furthermore, as the Purple Dragoness is to be trained to master her elements, I vote for Spyra to be granted full access and student status at the Warfang Academy until such a time she is deemed ready by the Guardians, and the Council, to move along in the ranks of the army itself."
"…I-Is this a dream?" Spyra salivated. The Fallen grinned at her and rubbed her wing membranes.
"Lastly," Starbrun paused. "the Council will discuss the matter further under sealed chambers. We would also like to attain the word of all four of the city's Guardians, and hear what they may suggest for our proceedings."
Ignitia went to speak-
"But, Councilor Starbrun, we don't know where they are." Leetol sheepishly shifted on his futon.
Starbrun rolled his mandible, his browline furrowing. He made eye contact with Ignitia and looked away when he realized both flame dragons were puffing air trying to find the right thing to say. He settled for shaking his head and snorting soot out his snout.
What else was there here? Today was so unique and strange all at the same time. Standard procedures meant little when the impossible happened.
"We grant you access to Warfang." Starbrun waved his tail. "Welcome to our capital. Now, for today I belie-"
"I request an orderly watch on the newcomers." Condor spoke. "A mere security precaution, ones appointed from other leaders than myself. I do have the safety of our realm in mind, and these are trying, unique circumstances…"
"Very well." Starbrun conceded. "Warfang's streets are yours. I trust Ignitia to lead you to your proper lodgings and occupational setups at the academy itself. Your escort will be assigned to you shortly to accompany your travels."
The Fallen grumbled under his bandages. All eyes were on him when that last bit was said. It was the unspoken truth. Those escorts were for him.
"Dismissed." Starbrun barked, his proud voice booming through the hall like thunder. "We convene tomorrow, alone."
{🐉}
"Are you out of your damned mind addressing a member of the Dragon Council like you did?"
"Are you telling me that all the yelling this morning wasn't enough?" The Fallen cringed, walking stiffly down the grand flight from the council building itself. Ignitia held a wing out to assist him in stepping down the last row, sighing under her breath.
"No, and I apologize for raising my voice." She said. "And I'm also not disagreeing with you. Councilor Condor is perhaps my least favorite of the representatives for Warfang. I voted against his election if you could ever believe it."
"It's a good thing I'm in such a chipper-ass mood right now, else I woulda' sprung at that douchebag and ripped his pancreas out." Spyra vented, stomping down the steps and curling her tail around the Fallen's ankles as she haunch-sat. "…Soooo, now that we've been cleared by the jeriatric patrol, what happens next?"
"You train, you become the dragon our legends portray you as, you journey to the Dark Continent and put an end to all of this madness." Harad grumbled, his eyes tiredly sweeping the plaza. "…I don't like the way it sounds either, before you ask."
"But what else is there really to do?" Torrdonal sat on one of the steps. "We have a one-drake army alien, the mythical Purple Dragoness of legend, and a whole bunch of dragons and Moles who want their homes to stop catching fire." He looked meek. "…Where do you even go off from there? This is very overwhelming."
"It's not going to change from the way it's always been." Corrinthol sneered. "Two people can't just win a war, especially one like this. This all started before anybody standing here right now was even born."
"Corrinthol, I might have been brash to the Fallen this morning, but I don't feel I'm overstepping anything in regards to you." Ignitia frowned at him. "Your lack of support in front of the Council for an effort that could literally mean the difference between our world persevering or being utterly destroyed, is shameful."
"Shameful? What about what the alien did to me? I don't see any of you shed-skins saying anything about that!" Corrinthol burst. Harad growled by Ignitia's side, but didn't intervene. "I was beaten, strangled and then used as a pack-mule! Me! Son of a General! A damned pack-mule!"
"Yeah, an frum what I herd abou it, you were real good at it too." Palmet proudly hopped down the last step and grinned apishly. "Kudos there for ya, lad, you got to carry the Master's boom-bag! He ain't evva letting me do that he ain't."
"Under certain circumstances, butler, you may just get your wish." The Fallen painfully turned around and looked at Corrinthol. The flame drake met his gaze and snarled, his claws flexing into the steps.
Spyra was there in a heartbeat, growling and putting herself before him. The Fallen shook his head and put a hand on her shoulder, keeping her back.
"You know, Corr', you're right." Said the Fallen. "And I'm sorry for it, I really am."
"You are?" Spyra dumbly blinked. Even Ignitia looked shocked.
"…Yeah, well apologies aren't good enough." Corrinthol smiled wickedly. "And if you don't want me to get my father on you, you'll have to beg."
"You didn't let me finish," The Fallen grunted as he knelt in front of the fire drake, eye-to-eye level. "I am sorry…"
"You said that already, and I just told you, you have to beg-"
"-for the fact that you are such a worthless degenerate, your own mother tried and failed to abort you due to her own clinical stupidity, which she, unfortunately, passed down to you."
Corrinthol's mouth flapped open, but only air came out.
Spyra rolled down the steps and landed on the street, laughing so hard that she started to wheeze. Some passersby in the plaza stopped and stared.
"Go on." The Fallen turned dark all of a sudden, prodding a finger in Corrinthol's face. "See if daddy can save you from the shitstorm. I bet you let him fix a lot of things for you, don't you?"
"-W-Wait-! S-Stop-! C-Can't- breathe-~!" Spyra cackled.
"Did he find you a new pair of balls when the little berries you had down there snapped and fell off?"
Spyra howled, turning crimson as she rolled on the cobblestone.
"Step back, Fallen, you've said enough." Harad grumbled, the only one in the discussion completely unaffected by the words spoken.
Corrinthol had to take a moment to snap his jaws shut, his young, needle-like face scrunched as he desperately clawed to keep down whatever was building up in his throat, be it a scream, an angry shout, or a mortified sob. Eventually, all the fire drake could say was:
"O-One day, I'm going to kill you."
The Fallen smiled. Then, he hooked two fingers into Corrinthol's nostrils and yanked his snout down with a painful jerk. Corrinthol squawked and scrambled like a newt.
Harad stepped in and physically pushed the Fallen back with his tail, standing between him and Corrinthol.
"I said for you to step back. Corrinthol is my soldier." Harad frowned.
"One must protect their bitches." The Fallen dusted himself off, glancing at Spyra. "An art I've perfected, myself."
"My father's hearing about this!" Corrinthol hollered, his umber wings spreading as he took off from the steps and glided over the plaza. "I'll get you, Fallen~!"
"That's what they all say." The Fallen grunted, watching the drake fly off. "Going back to Spyra's question: what next?"
"I'll show you." Ignitia returned with her warm smile and gestured for the plaza. "Captain, we're going for a walk."
"Noted." Harad flexed his massive wings out and then folded them. "A Guardian is as good an escort as the Council could hope for, minus Condor and the few who agree with him. I still request I accompany you."
"-Whoo~! …Aw, g-gimme' a break, Hamflap." Spyra rolled her eyes as she collected herself off the ground. "It ain't like the Fallen's running around covered in blood with a cleaver in his hand like one of them." She tail-pointed at Palmet, who gasped and started examining his fur (and Meep) for splotches.
"At least not today." The Fallen quipped pleasantly.
"Captain, I formerly request you return to your lair and regain your strength, you as well Torrdonal. You're dismissed from duty for the rest of the day." Ignitia's tail came around and ushered the human and his purple friend forwards with her. "Come along now, let me take you to your new home for the time being."
"Home? I just left my home." Spyra blinked. "…W-Wait… do you mean…?"
"She means the academy." The Fallen said. Spyra squeed and pierced the eardrums of several passing Moles.
"Well now, ain't dat jus a fine endin for the afternoon." Palmet trudged up beside Harad, petting Meep. "Back where I come from, the lads used ta organize little relaxation gatherings for the end of a day. We'd strap up dragon-dummies from ropes and whatnot an beet the piss outta em! Good fun it was."
Torrdonal went crossed eyed and started shivering.
"The only reason I haven't crushed you to death is because of the human's proximity." Harad darkly angled his chin to look down at the smaller Ape past his pauldron. "I think he's just about to get outside of earshot."
"…Oi, if ya wanted me ta bugger off, ya coulda just said." Palmet frowned, scratching Meep's tentacles as he waddled off after the trio. "I realize and shite that we're all formeh enemies and whatnot, but do they realleh have ta be so rude, Meep?"
"Meep."
"I kno! Rattin scraps that one, worser off then I ever realleh ave witnessed."
"…Do Ignitia's orders stand, sir?" Torrdonal gulped. "I-I haven't been home in a long time and-"
"Get out of my site, Torrdonal." Harad flashed a very rare, insincere smile. The water dragon bowed and zipped into the air without another word. Harad looked back at the doorway and huffed, muttering to himself. "Dragons aren't meant to bicker amongst each other like squabbling rats. Maybe the alien's appearance really is the sign of the apocalypse. Look at what our people have become."
Something about that sentence tasted foul. But then again, no so unfamiliar either. Malefora had been around for centuries, after all.
Harad opened his wings and took off with a single, cracking flap.
{🐉}
Spyra was inconsolable the whole walk. Everywhere they went, she battered Ignitia with questions such as:
"What's that do?"
"What's that for?"
"You can actually eat that?! Can I get some?!"
"How many dragons live here?"
…On and on and on.
The Fallen loved hearing her talk and even he was getting exhausted, not just because of the strain on his bandaged legs.
"Warfang is considered the birthplace of dragonkind in the Realms proper." Ignitia explained, trotting beside the Fallen as they moved down a wide street flanked by commonhouses, and business stalls lining the under-atriums making their foundations. "During ancient times, dragons primarily maintained their own fiefdoms through the use of lairs. Back then, each dragon had their own spot of land that they hunted in, patrolled and owned, and fighting was frequent. Most of us do not fancy that lifestyle these days, especially since dragonkind's alliance with the Moles."
"What, the little furry dudes wandering around all over?" Spyra watched as a cluster of Mole citizens quickly stepped out of the party's way, gawking at her and the Fallen behind spectacles and golden goggle-setups. "What do they got that's so special? The dragons are the centerpiece here!"
"Do not be so sure, for looks are deceiving, young one." Ignitia hummed. "It was the Moles who first taught us the ability to create urban infrastructure, and it was they who were instrumental in helping us perfect our stoneworking capabilities. All of what you see around us, the buildings, the spires and the defense walls would have been impossible without their exceedingly bright intellects. They may be small, but one Mole engineer can redefine a civilization if given the chance."
"They're industrious." The Fallen nodded, his eyes scanning over a pair of Mole soldiers who had stepped to the side of the road to watch, more specifically, he was eyeing the pair of golden plated flintlock rifles in their little paws. "Cynder wasn't the only one with gunpowder here."
"Certainly not." Ignitia shook her head. "Cynder merely took the basic knowledge the North has possessed since Warfang's construction centuries ago. The brute application the Apes fashioned speaks miles of their own effectiveness. It's really quite sad."
"Yeh, me and the lads used ta keep a tally of workplace incidents up on the wall in one of them barracks blocks." Palmet dug in his ear as he waddled behind then, earning many derisive and hateful looks from citizens passing them. "We got ta twenty-six ovva the last month we did! Luckily I nevva got chosen for blast-stick duty. Visigoth always let the Apes that were the stupidest or weakest go inta those roles. I was too good fer them buggas methinks."
"Good thing too, or I'd be short a butler." The Fallen patted the blades hanging from his hips and gave the Ape a thumbs up. "Excellent sheen you worked on the gear, by the way."
"Aw, it was nuthin, Master, I always fancied the rag and cleana myself." Palmet fiddled. "Oi, boss, they're sellin biscuits at dat stand! C-Can I…?"
"Can he?" The Fallen creased a brow for Ignitia.
"Stay close, Ape, so that you aren't accosted by unfamiliar guards." She sighed. Palmet cheered and bounded off, Meep swinging like a loose rag from his mane fur.
"Apes seem to have a globally bad rep." The Fallen offhandedly commented.
"They were one of Malefora's force elements during the last continental invasion, particularly the tribes of Chieftain Visigoth and Vandal." Ignitia explained. "Many souls here have not forgotten the horrors they committed in the Dragon Realms, and never will."
"What is that."
The whole party stopped when Spyra went stiff like a board. Her eyes were fixed on one of the market carts pulled up with the wooden stands. There was a sign hung over the large wheel that read: 'Candy' –in scrawled letters. A Mole wearing a dainty chef's hat and a monocle dropped a tray he'd been holding when he saw that the purple dragon of legend was locked onto his cart like a homing torpedo.
Spyra almost teleported, in the blink of an eye she had her forepaws on the counter, her tail going wild as she stared at a particular product among the small tray boards lined on the cart. There was a formation of pink, plush candies the size of a thumbprint each stacked in a tray. The dragoness was looking at them like they were a gate to some paradise she'd been denied.
"Hey. Hey, market-guy." Spyra didn't even look at the Mole candy-maker as she spoke. "What is that. What is that, man. Tell me. Smells-" She wiggled her snout, snorting, making the candy-maker jump when a lick of flame spat and died in front of her face. "-smells real good…"
The candy-maker opened his mouth but couldn't speak. Ignitia trotted over, warmly smiling as she sat in front of the cart beside her.
"How much for a cream-covered strawberry, sir?" She politely asked, reaching back to dig in her hipsash.
"Cream covered strawberry." Spyra might as well have been uttering words carved into a holy grail. "Ohmygawdtheylooksogood…"
"On the house." The Mole finally sputtered, pushing the whole tray at them across the counter. "T-Take it. Fresh batch."
"Oh, please sir, there's no need, I have coin right-" Ignitia started.
"No. No it's okay." The Mole weakly smiled. "Anything for the Purple Dragon. I-I'm just glad the Wings finally found you."
"That's very generous of you, but I insist-"
"YEAHAH-!" Spyra snatched the whole tray and shoved a pawful of the candies in her snout before anyone could blink. She sat on the street and chewed noisily, her eyes rolling back into her head, much the same way they tended to do when the Fallen was lewdly servicing her. "…Mmmmfffff~…" She swallowed, pink bits clinging to her fangs and marring her chops. "Spyra real likey….~"
"You can have anything you like too, ma'am, I'm not privy on charging a Guardian." The candy-maker watched Spyra with fascination, only half-looking at the older dragoness.
"Your kindness is boundless." Ignitia sighed, embarrassed, slipping a wad of coins onto the counter when the candy-maker wasn't looking. "Oh, Fallen? Would you care to try something?"
"Fallen? What's fallen, I hav-" The candy-maker went pale as the human limped over to the cart and offered him a quick smirk before scanning the goods.
"…How you doing..." The Fallen muttered, picking out a small chocolate truffle and popping it in his mouth. "Is bartering a thing here? I have all kinds of gear…"
"It's yours." The candy-maker seemed less shocked now and more curious as he bent to gaze at the taller human from the chin of his cart sign, which was level with the Fallen's forehead. "…You don't mind me asking, but what exactly are you?"
"He's an alien that fell from the sky." Spyra muffled, shoveling her strawberry candies like they were going out of style.
The candy-maker was suddenly possessed with a- '.' –sort of expression, before Ignitia whisked the two of them away.
"Thank you again, sir." She called back as they took to the street again. "…I had a nagging suspicion you had a sweet-fang, Spyra."
Spyra muffled something as she shoved the tray into the Fallen's hands.
"Holdthis." –She barely uttered, before snagging another pawful and gorging. "Can'twalk…onlythree…"
"I understand." The Fallen chuckled, keeping the tray by his belly as Spyra leisurely plucked at her will between steps. He looked at some of the striking, stone spires towering around them, and the dragons zipping back and forth through the beautiful sky. "I can see why you were so eager to come home."
"It's wonderful here, you can almost forget how crowded it is." Ignitia said cheerfully. "Where you come from, Fallen, are there not cities as well? Judging from those pods in Cynder's observatory, your people have access to unprecedented engineers."
"I don't know where I came from per-say, but other worlds have places like this, yes." He glanced at her, still focused on the scenery, a passing marble statue of a dragon regally poised atop a pedestal, a commonhouse whose entire two-story front had been sculpted to bear a draconic coat of arms detailed with trims of bronze, its windows built in accordance with the patterns. "…Places like it, not it though, this…"
The Fallen's sentence trailed to nothing, and he merely smiled again.
"Maybe on a low-day at the academy, I could give you a guided tour." She suggested, regarding him past her dainty, finned and umber scaled shoulder. Her amber eyes trailed down his body. "Counting on your injuries healing up, of course."
"That sounds like a plan." The Fallen chuckled as Spyra picked the tray in his hand clean. "Spyra was telling me about some of the lifestyle and benefits of being a Guardian you explained to her last night."
"All in a good light I hope…" Ignitia hummed, her mood dampening as she remembered the conversation in detail.
"I respect it, what you do and how you do it. My sensei lives a very similar lifestyle in a mountain range. I lived that way for a long time, finding my own inner strength and molding it into something that I could use to reconstruct myself."
"It's not an easy thing to do."
"No, not in the slightest." His shoulders hopped. "It did almost kill me. Literally."
"Wha we talkin bout this time wit killing? Killing's always good fer some small talk." Palmet crunched on a biscuit clenched in his paw as he waddled up beside them, the Ape's little yellow eyes alight with intrigue.
"You stole that, didn't you." The Fallen creased his lip.
"Wha? None whatsoevva, boss! I simpleh walked up to the nice little Mole-man behind the stand, and I went ta inquire about them biscuits he had at the forefront rightly." Palmet spat crumbs as he talked, dragging a knuckle on the cobblestone beside him. "Instead of giving me some info like I asked abou peacefully, he up and screamed his little head off and ran out! Fled, kapoot business-venture he did! Ran away with his little arms in the air and wavin all panicked."
The Ape shrugged and bit off a little bit of the biscuit to hand to Meep.
"Guess peepol round these parts fink I'm scary or somethin."
"We're here." Ignitia said. "Look."
The Dragon Academy was physically a level lower than the street, linked on four sides by stairwells and ringed by a large plaza. The academy itself was a self-contained community by the looks of it. It sat as an island ringed by a low wall, and surrounded by a wide, blue-watered artificial mote. Greenery and trees lush with leaves covered the island's roughly square mass, penning in a series of spread out buildings making the academy itself.
"…Wow…" A strawberry candy slipped out of Spyra's mouth as she gawked. "…that's the academy?"
"Yes it is, the birthplace of all of Warfang's warriors, and the Realms overall." Ignitia sounded giddy, her wings preening slightly and her tail wagging. She was obviously excited to return. But then, her face paled a little. "…All the work that's built up since I left…"
"That's a pain I've felt more than I want to admit." The Fallen chuckled. His gaze was locked on the academy itself, however.
Yes, it was beautiful and a massive architectural feat for a world still without electricity, but the taste of fortification ringing from the place put him off slightly.
"I wanna' go inside!" Spyra wrapped her tail around his wrist and jolted forwards, the empty tray pattering on the street as he lost it and stumbled after her. "Last one there has to lick the other's feet!"
The Fallen gasped. What if she wasn't kidding?
Spyra didn't wear shoes.
{🐉}
