Volink Week II
Disclaimer: I don't own HW.
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Day Two: Culture Shock
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Looking and feeling out of place and a bit like an appetizer course in the coming feast, Link sat among Lizalfos and Dinolfos chieftains and dragon elites, all of which were, at least by a small fraction, blood relatives to Volga, as the dragon knight and several reptilian attendants walked into a large pool of lava and waded out to the gushing waterfall on the opposite edge.
This place was beyond Link's imagination. For ten days and nights, they had traveled mostly by flight and a little of the way on foot farther into the cavernous Eldin Mountains range. Through increasingly perilous, narrowing gaps they had flown or crawled until the final cave opened out to a deep, wide trough in the earth and the crystal palace stronghold where Volga's bloodline and dragonkin resided together. Protecting and housing the Eldin dragon kingdom were towering mountains of a lustrous red crystal that easily could have been a single massive ruby or red garnet deposit but was neither, according to Volga. When the sun rose and set each day, the red crystal glowed a brilliant, dazzling fiery red, giving the place its Hylian name—the Incandescent Valley.
Waist deep in magma, a stern-faced Volga waited patiently as his bloodline's ruling patriarch detailed his services and accolades throughout the centuries, essentially giving reason for their gathering today—to promote the dragon knight to the rank of dragon lord. At near the end of his speech, the dragon patriarch raised his three claws above his horns and then ordered for the reforge to begin.
Volga stepped back into the lava waterfall and white hot molten earth oozed over his helmet and shoulders and streaked down his chestplates. Seconds after, four of the attendants, two Dinolfos and two Lizalfos, lunged at Volga and submerged him under the lava.
Link's heart leapt into his throat and he nearly scrambled to his feet and ran directly into the lava pool, certain death be damned, to help Volga as the glowing red, roaring dragon knight clawed and wrestled and battled his fierce dragonkin. He soon realized that all the claws, slashes, stabs, and bites were for a purpose—to reshape Volga's armor. He started to understand even more as the remaining attendants began vigorously shoveling pile after pile of large red crystal shards into the lava pool.
It was a real enough looking fight because it was a real fight. Dragons were a warring race, born fighting from the egg. The Eldin dragons were particularly violent, in no small part due to their long-standing history of being pursued and killed by Heroes and their emulators. Theirs was a culture of strength and pride. Link had always thought of Volga and pictured his kind as not unlike the Gorons pushed to their most extreme. But they did not simply live to fight like the Gorons. The Eldin dragons fought to live and the heart of their culture was built around that need to survive. After all, none of the other sentient races and monsters were going to come to their aid.
Battle hammers batted, axes chopped, and even large chunks of crystal were directly shoved into the dragon knight's malleable armor to make sure that the Incandescent Valley's signature red crystal was infused into every metal piece. Link watched, first in horror and now in fascination and awe, at the mechanics and choreography of fire and battle and metallurgy necessary to reforge the dragon knight's armor.
At long last, the Dinolfos and Lizalfos attendants relented and backed away. Volga rose to standing, reared his head back, and roared, his battle aura shining brightly, before leaping out of the lava and into the air. When he landed on the ground, awaiting attendants opened and slung barrels of water on Volga. The hiss of water on hot metal was deafening and Link could not yet see Volga or his new armor as hot white steam blinded him from view.
When the steam finally dissipated, there stood Volga, a Dragon Lord.