Sometimes, events move at a glacial pace—unstoppable, but possible to ignore.

Sometimes, they accelerate and converge, and all hell breaks loose.

Sorry for double notification. I kinda forgot about chapter summary, and since I make them each time, I decided to keep up this habit.

"Law-speaker! He called you a Justice Dignitary, but I guess it's because there aren't equivalent words for 'law' in dragonese. Anyway, he has something very important to report, but he doesn't know Norse very well!"

Bjorn Hofferson raised an eyebrow at the outburst of words he was more used to hearing from gossiping women than from a dragon. Granted, it was a female, as Astrid had told him. He still needed to adjust to thinking of dragons in the same way he thought of humans, not even starting with the law adjustments... "Speak."

"He says he was suspicious of one Viking and followed him when he flew off on his Gronckle one time. They landed on a completely grey and barren island, and he overheard that the Viking had helped his mother escape from a death sentence she was sentenced to for the next day. They were attacked by some humans, and his mother couldn't stay there, so they planned to get her somewhere else. But it would be suspicious if this Viking went missing for long enough to get to the mainland, so they took his mother to the Berk forest for her to hide in, and he went to his longhouse to say to everyone that he was going on a quest and would return for his mother the next day."

Bjorn needed several seconds to sort through the near-gibberish, and finally asked, "What is this Viking's name?" The Nadder opened its gaping maw, then froze for a few seconds.

"Fishlegs...? He will be in trouble? Oh no!"

"Nothing is confirmed yet," Bjorn said. "I have a witness, but no physical proof. Don't tell anyone else about this until I resolve the matter." He certainly didn't enjoy the thought of a crowd of onlookers; he much preferred resolving issues without that, thank you very much.

The dragon, a Monstrous Nightmare whose name he didn't know, followed behind him. The creature was behaving quite... formal, despite its very different anatomy. Curious how some things seem to be universal between our kinds, and some so contradictory.

The moment Fishlegs spotted Bjorn, he was nervous, but that was to be expected. He was very often nervous when interacting with a lot of people. However, what was atypical was turning so pale that he could be considered a ghost when he spotted the Monstrous Nightmare next to him.

"Fishlegs Ingerman, you are accused of releasing Hilda Ingerman from custody before her execution. I have an eyewitness to your interaction with her on the Outcast island."

The teenager started justifying himself. Of course he did.

"She... she is my mother! I couldn't be expected to let her die. I just... I just had to do this. I... I..."

Bjorn frowned. He might pity Fishlegs, a teenager on the verge of adulthood, facing such a fate. But now Bjorn was a paragon of justice, not a Hofferson patriarch or even a fellow Hairy Hooligan.

"Traditionally, freeing someone before their sentence is executed is punished with the sentence they had."

The bewildered Ingermans looked at him and blanched, and the indentured thrall, recovering from a wing injury in the corner, had her eyes widened to a massive extent.

"However, due to such a direct family connection and the nature of the sentence, I hereby reduce your sentence to banishment. Now you will follow me to the blacksmith so that the outcast mark will be burnt onto your back. From then, you will have until tomorrow morning to leave the territory of the Hairy Hooligan tribe. Failure to comply with any of these orders will result in immediate execution. Failure to stay out of Hairy Hooligan territory afterwards will also result in immediate execution. Do you understand?"

Fishlegs trembled; no wonder, as his entire world was brutally breaking down before his eyes. Bjorn now truly pitied him, but the law was the law—it needed to be upheld, or Berk would fall into chaos.

"Y-yes, Law-speaker, I understand perfectly."

So they went, and Bjorn noted that the dragon was behaving much like a competent guard would, keeping an eye on both the Outcast and the surroundings, ready to leap at any potential threat. Maybe he could use his help, as while Bjorn wasn't weak by any standards, a Monstrous Nightmare was so much stronger than a man, and the ability to move swiftly would be advantageous.

Regardless, they arrived. Gobber was shocked and pained to hear the news, but he followed orders, only refusing to burn the mark himself. He could understand why and didn't insist, and instead, Bjorn performed the task himself.

When the mark was burnt, the Gronckle, the outcast's companion, barreled towards them in blind rage but was stopped and subdued by the witness, only to instantly spring upright and nuzzle Fishlegs when it was finished.

"Meatlug, I need to go," Fishlegs said. "And I can't return, but you have hatchlings—" He received an affectionate lick for his trouble, and Meatlug ground out several words in Icelandic. "I go... with... you... no problem for... hatchlings to raise in the wild."

The teenager cried into the dragon's neck for a while before they separated, the dragoness likely flying to get her belongings and children, and Fishlegs... well, that would be downright cruel.

"What is your name?"

"Skyfire."

"Pleasure to meet you, I am Bjorn."

Fishlegs ran through the forest, tearing through the thick foliage like a boar, albeit one in pain and dismay, both physical and emotional. He couldn't believe what had just happened but was constantly reminded of it by the mark burned onto his back: a mark that would stay with him for the rest of his life, barring him from ever again finding a home amongst the Vikings.

Suddenly, a shadow sprang onto his path and he jumped, crying out in surprise. But he soon calmed down. It was Toothless and Hiccup.

"Fishlegs? Is it true?... Gods, it is."

Fishlegs' eyes suddenly glinted. "Hiccup! I need your help. I left my mother in the forest! I need to find her!" he begged.

"Hop up!"

They took flight, and soon they found Hilda. She recoiled and brandished her weapon upon seeing the Night Fury, but Fishlegs embraced her in a hug. "M-mom, this-this nightmare, he-he, he... I am banished. He-he knows where— you- we need to get moving!"

She tugged him in turn when the surprise wore away. "Shush, alright fishy, alright, come now."

They disappeared into the forest, while Hiccup and Toothless exchanged a glance full of shock and pain before leaping up into the air.

Mother and son crossed the forest, drawing the attention of some dragons, but otherwise undetected, until they reached the cliffside and perched behind bushes, watching for dragons. After what felt like an eternity, a Night Fury, a Zippleback, a Monstrous Nightmare, a Deadly Nadder, and a batch of Gronckles emerged from the undergrowth behind them.

"So... Umm... Thanks for all the help," Snotlout managed, clearly unsure of himself and not even trying to hide it.

"Be good out there, buddy, okay?" Tuffnut said

"Yeah, don't talk to strange people, and better loot mainlanders' houses to get a proper bed. Sleeping out in the wild isn't good long-term for your back,"Ruffnut said in turn, both twins patting Fishlegs on the arms. They were surprisingly solemn, affectionate, and encouraging all at once.

"Th-thanks, guys. I don't know what to say."

Hiccup squared his jaw and sent him a look full of determination. "I will set this right."

"I am afraid it is right. Sorry Hiccup, but it isn't something you can do much about. But don't worry," Fishlegs sputtered out weakly. "We'll meet again. Probably."

Hiccup's expression drooped. Astrid advanced instead, and Fishlegs froze in distress. She was the daughter of Bjorn. Oh no.

He experienced the single most unexpected, rapid, and stiffest hug in his life before it was ended abruptly, and Astrid handed him a double-edged hatchet, tilt-first. The hatchet.

"A-Astrid, I can't take it! It is—"

"My uncle's weapon, but the Gronckles are already spitting enough steel of much greater quality that we are likely to make nails out of this. Take it."

He didn't. "Astrid, it has great sentimental value for you. I can find another weapon."

She shook her head. "It is why I give it to you. A weapon is not a display piece; it is to be used, so put it to good use. And don't even dare—" She stopped abruptly, inhaled and exhaled before continuing. "Try not to break it. Please?"

Everyone looked at Astrid in surprise, but the situation was too pressing to be bewildered. Hiccup and Snotlout stepped out simultaneously.

"Good luck."

"Everything will be fine."

They looked surprised at each other and squeaked when they were put into a powerful hug by their friend.

"Thanks, guys, and girls. All of you, this really matters a lot to me."

They smiled, and Toothless ignited the gas.

...To launch a blob of saliva he had gathered in his mouth straight at the bulky teenager, giving everyone a toothless smile.

Giggles escaped from all of them, and they gave their final farewell to each other. Hilda looked straight at Hiccup. "I am sorry that I tried to kill you." Then she turned to the startled Toothless. "And I am sorry for this stabbing. Did it heal?" The Night Fury nodded and crooned after a short hesitation.

Hookfang huffed and said dismissively, "You strong. You good."

Barf and Belch twisted their necks around the outcasts and gave them a hug. "You important to friends." "And you a friend." "So don't die." "Ya, what he said."

With a solemn nod and sad smiles, they waved their final goodbye and took off.

The 19-year-old sprang up from his sleep, jolted by sudden screaming. He frantically looked around and spotted the source: a terrified man about his age, spluttering a report to the squad leader. He pushed the shoulder of his own Night Fury, a highly muscled female, to wake her up and get to the bottom of this. She only grumbled and curled up tighter. He groaned in exasperation.

But this wasn't something that could wait, as a sharp trumpet sounded not once, meaning 'wakeup', but three times, signaling 'combat-ready'.

So he kicked her in the side, but the frustrating dragoness still wasn't getting up. She could be like that at times, and there was only one way he could get her to do what he wanted. Sighing, he knelt and scratched her behind the ears, simultaneously shushing her hurriedly.

"Get up, girl, get up. Don't be so fussy. A whole day of excitement awaits!"

She still wasn't getting up, and he was running out of time. Thankfully, the rest of his team had the same issue with their Night Furies, so he wasn't sticking out like a sore thumb, but still, they would face a collective punishment if they were all late.

His gaze hit a piece of curled leather at the side of the saddle, and he stopped mid-step. This thing may look inconspicuous, but he knew far too well what it felt like. He shouldn't...

Smacks and roars echoed; others had much fewer reservations. He cursed and grabbed this whip, before snapping it in the air above his dragon's head.

Or rather, he intended to, but he wasn't used to being the one whipping, and he hit her in the flank. He winced but composed himself. "Get—"

Before he realized what was happening, he was pinned to the ground, claws on his throat, ready to tear it out, slit pupils filled with pent-up fury right before his eyes. An array of pearl-white teeth opened to reveal a blue flame—

His entire life flashed before his eyes. Living on a ship, the bellowing laughter of his father. The absurd fear of stepping on land after being teased by some crew member he couldn't remember, that kids born at sea would die if they stepped on land, and his father encouraging him to take a step onto the solid ground. Lessons in sword fighting, archery, and survival, and then dragon trapping. The meeting with their newest employer that went so awry...

The array of in-built weaponry retreated, and he blinked. Was he dead? No. He blinked after all.

"Eret, are you alright?" asked one of his teammates, and he sprang upright. The Night Fury was now orderly, standing at attention, not a trace of her previous fury visible.

"Yeah, I'm in one piece," he said, mounting the beast gingerly and gripping the handles on the collar.

"You should leave it here."

The trapper turned handler shook his head. "No, no, no, I can't stay behind, I'll get introuble. She was just startled. Let's go."

His fellow rider shrugged and prompted his own dragon to take off. He ignored him and reacted only when he was kicked harder in the side. But he still didn't take off as they always did, from a standstill. Instead, he started to run along the clearing with his wings unfurled, only to trip over another Night Fury.

Eret's brows furrowed. Something wasn't right.

"Whoa, Lucy!" His dragon decided to take off just then, and it was fast. They nearly crashed because he couldn't change quill position fast enough.

They steadied, low enough to brush the tips of trees and come tumbling down,. He just barely managed to avoid getting crashed by leaping out of his mount. Thank the spirits that he hadn't fastened the straps on yet.

Lucy was standing upright again, looking a bit dazed. Though if he didn't remind himself that she was an animal, he would think that she was insincere. No. Wrong. Even an undisciplined dog could learn to emulate being hurt. But this didn't make sense.

"Shush, Lucy, shush, calm down. Steady, steady."

He rubbed her shoulders in soft, calming circles, and she purred, albeit while pouting. After a while, he mounted her again. "Careful girl. We don't want to have another nasty crash, do we?"

With that, they launched into the air, straight into pandemonium. It seemed that only a quarter of the handlers had their dragons in order. Lucy wailed, shook herself all over, and bolted to the front, finding the leader of their team; Bawon. "Good girl." He patted her on the neck.

"Good," his leader said. "At least you've taken hold of your beast. Listen now, we found Albino's handler killed in the woods with Night Fury claw-marks, and her dragon is nowhere to be seen. We are going to bring this wretched ghost back and skin it alive."

"Aye, sir," Eret replied automatically. The rest of the Night Furies were finally back in disciplined formations, and they employed a hunting tactic: a third of the teams landed and scoured the forest, a third were on overwatch in the air, and the last third were sent outwards to block the way. Their prey couldn't fly, so they should be able to find the startlingly white dragon against the colorful backdrop of late autumn easily.

As he scanned the landscape, thoughts crept back in. It wasn't right. It wasn't the first time they were woken this way, and never before were even half of the dragons in as much of a problematic state as they were just a while ago. Even now, he could see some of them slacking in relatively basic tasks and getting whipped back into efficiency.

He didn't have his whip, though; it stayed behind on the ground. Maybe it was for the better; he had an excuse as to why he didn't discipline Lucy with it. He certainly didn't want to. He knew he had too much pity for anyone on the other side of it to ever use it.

Back onto track, it was almost as if the Night Furies were purposefully being incompetent. Which was ridiculous. They were animals, and besides, why would they even do it for...

No. No. It wasn't possible. They were animals.

But as much as he wanted to reject it, he couldn't forget that look filled with disdain and a raised tailfin. This haunted him, made him feel like he was some sort of slaver. But no, it was just... a particularly smart female of a particularly smart animal species that had connected the dots in her primitive mind.

Yes, he was just being ridiculous, and he was an adult! It was just like believing that if he stepped on land after being born on a ship, he would die. Ridiculous. Dragons were just animals, predators—those ones tamed and turned into mounts, like horses, but with wings and scales and fire and very visible personalities and such expressive eyes—no, he was just getting sidetracked again.

Right on task again, Eret surveyed the air from his vantage point on dragonback. There wasn't a sign of the flightless dragon, but it couldn't possibly have gotten that far away. It was on foot, and they were on dragonback. This shouldn't be particularly hard, and he has the easiest job; there was no way the tailfin had just regrown for the Albino, so there was no way he would be of use, unless called down as reinforcements.

Should he punish Lucy? Eret remembered that, while training a dog, it must be punished immediately after misbehaving, so it can connect the dots, but Night Furies were quite smart. The very fact that some of them understood that they needed to obey to be able to fly and meekly obeyed merely a day from when they were captured, and never tried to escape despite the lack of physical restraints, served as a perfect example of this.

So Lucy would know what she was being punished for, but again, she was just a wild animal, tamed, yes, but by no means domesticated. It required generations of selective breeding for an animal to truly become a reliable tool and lose the 'wild' factor. It was no wonder why she reacted so violently when suddenly hurt, and the fact that she corrected herself before doing any damage made harsh punishment seem disproportionate.

Leashing her down instead of letting her wander freely for a day or two should suffice, he decided.

His musings were broken by the ending note of a horn below, and he steered Lucy to land as close to there as possible, in the nearby clearing, and then galloped to the point of origin of the horn.

One handler had a broken leg, just above the knee, but was using his horn through gritted teeth nevertheless; the second was knocked out but appeared unharmed. Their dragons, dark-red and pitch-black beasts, were fighting each other viciously, leaving a trail of scales and blood in their wake.

Lucy placed a plasma blast between them, baring her teeth and snarling. Both dragons responded in kind, and both Lucy and the dark-red one teamed up against the pitch-black one.

"Calm down!" They weren't calming down, and all three entered a screaming match of sorts before the dark-red one leaped at the pitch-black one, closely followed by Lucy.

Usually, when dragons were fighting each other, they were all to be restrained and punished. But he was pretty much alone out here, so he had to play it safe.

He gritted his teeth and brandished a miniature crossbow, drew the string, loaded a dart with Speed Stinger venom they were all equipped with to subdue dragons at exactly such occasions, and waited for an opportunity to shoot.

It was presented to him on a proverbial silver plate when Lucy physically subdued the pitch-black one, tilting it onto its back, pinning all of its paws under her chest, tugging it with her own paws, coiling her tail around its one, and pressing her snout straight into a pressure point. It didn't work, though; the pitch-black was raging, and it didn't work when they were high on adrenaline.

Still, it left the pitch-black flailing helplessly in what looked amazingly like a well-practiced wrestling lock, so he shot at the dark-red, freezing it in its current uncertain pose.

"What happened here?" Eret turned to the conscious handler after retrieving a piece of cloth and a flask from his sack. They were damn well equipped for everything here, he noted absent-mindedly.

"They were sniffing around, and then Bloodlust lurched at Void out of nowhere. We tried to break them up, but as you can see, it didn't work out well."

Eret nodded and put the bone back in its place, wincing slightly at the pained scream, but continued his work unimpeded, simultaneously talking to distract his patient.

"Why didn't you use darts?"

The bearded man scowled. "Do you know how hard it is to get speed stingers alive and then to make their venom not become useless in a day? They dock our wages for every used one."

Eret snickered. "Well, now you aren't earning anything till your leg heals. Is she alright?"

He pointed his chin in the direction of the unconscious handler. "Yeah, I checked her pulse; she'll be fine."

Eret nodded and finished treating the limb, now splinted with a stick and piece of cloth. It wasn't much, but it would do for a while. Then he turned to the dragons. Void was struggling helplessly within Lucy's grip; he never took much time to appreciate just how much more muscular his dragoness was than other specimens. Still, with Bloodlust frozen for at least a few hours, he prioritized relieving Lucy and took a thick rope out of his bag.

Tying the paws up with rope to the harness had gone easily; they were just flailing helplessly a few inches up and down. The bridle was the tricky part, considering those constantly snapping jaws, but Lucy got the hint of what he was doing and gripped them in her own with sheathed teeth, so he could place it mostly easily as well. Then she pinned the wings on her own accord, and he tied those up as well, before gesturing for Lucy to drag the snarling pitch-black Night Fury to the nearest thick tree and leash her there. He lacked rope to bind the dark-red one, but Bloodlust (now that seemed fitting) had some in his saddlebag though.

The handler couldn't help but notice that his tamed beast was oddly skilled at physically subduing and manhandling other Night Furies. Nothing that her captive attempted seemed to make her struggle at all, and if he had to describe her expression, he would say she was blasé about the whole thing.

Two more handlers reached them with their Night Furies, and he was ordered to guard them all by his team leader until someone arrived to relieve him. They, in turn, got the injured handlers out.

With no one to keep him company, he idly scratched Lucy's back. It was peaceful until Void snarled and Lucy snapped. Literally. They got into a snarling match that ended just when he was tempted to pull out the bridle, with Lucy's eyes going wide and soft croons exchanged between them, finished with a begrudging grumble on Void's side.

Something unnerved him, but he couldn't tell what up to the point when Bloodlust's paralysis subsided enough for him to speak.

Then he realized. He had labeled these animalistic noises as speech in his mind, and they behaved like they were talking all this time.

Startled, he stood up, his head buzzing. Lucy warbled at him. Eret trembled but managed to inhale and exhale deeply.

It wasn't possible that no one had ever seen this, surely some wise man had seen it happen and found a logical explanation. Yes, this must be it. It only looked like they were talking; they weren't actually communicating.

Finally, when the sky turned red, six handlers landed and strapped the restrained Night Furies to their own before taking off and flying away with them in tow. Eret joined the team keeping overwatch as they flew towards the city.

"So, where is Albino?" Another handler sighed at his inquiry.

"Nowhere to be seen, and the beasts are suddenly itching for a fight, usually with each other. It's a disaster, even more so since it was Grimmel's kid."

Eret groaned. "We are going to search for him until winter hits, and then some, aren't we?"

The man near him slumped. "Yeah."

"Great. Just great."

They landed on the square near the building they had rented: nothing more than a glorified storehouse, but at least it was built well, with a roof sloped at exactly ninety degrees, characteristic of this region, and walls of red brick. It even had some paintings of flowers on the rafters and doorframe—neither particularly intricate nor of the highest quality, but respectable nonetheless. However, it lacked any windows at all.

"I would say it looks homely if not for those guys," Eret remarked, nodding towards the surrounding buildings that had been turned into outposts and watchtowers. Every way out of the encirclement was barred by barricades and gates, and the entire place was filled with soldiers.

His fellow handler, the leader of his team, Bawon, started to speak. "Not that we can blame them, in any case. Everyone knows about a certain event involving this species of dragons. If it weren't for the money we paid and the assurance of keeping the Night Furies contained, they would likely attack when we showed up—"

"Here we go again," Eret interrupted, rolling his eyes.

"Fine, I'll refrain from getting on a tangent," Bawon conceded.

"Thank the spirits," Eret muttered, earning him a glare from Bawon as they entered the storehouse. Eret did his best to hide his amusement. The low groan from his leader made it clear that he had failed.

Their newest barracks were quite spacious, despite being intersected with newly built wooden walls in three parts of four, likely rooms, with a wide corridor between them. There were dozens of them; finally, some privacy!

There were wooden walkways above, circling the whole building, accessed by stairs placed at a larger open space before the rooms. The rooms themselves were sorted in a clear order; the largest one at the end for Grimmel, and then each of the sixteen five-person teams grouped together at one side of the corridor, with the leader in the center. Everything was arranged in a simple, yet elegant and effective manner, much like everything Grim Melds did.

Eret had the ninth room from the start of the corridor, on the right. He had reasons to believe that it was exactly how the others looked, after all, everything was uniform in this group.

There was a chest on the left from the door, a bed after the chest, and then a series of six wooden rods sticking out of the wall for Night Fury tack, and at the very end was a wider open space with thick stocks bolted into the floor.

Lucy groaned when she spotted the contraption, and Eret patted her on the arm. "Sorry, lass, but we have orders. People here really don't like you slim reptiles and want you all extra secured."

She stretched out and yawned wide after he removed the entire tack, before walking to the back wall and resting her neck and forepaws in their place in the stocks, as well as her tail and hindpaws in the second set further back. He flipped it up on top of her and secured it, before retrieving a bit-less bridle from his bag.

Lucy huffed with exasperation. "Yeah, I agree, a bit too much, but it ain't my choice."

Eret heard a commotion outside and investigated. Bawon was already going to knock on the door but hit him in the nose instead. "Sorry. Grimmel ordered us all to secure the beasts for the night and gather near the supplies. I guess we're in for a prolonged rant."

Eret slumped, and his leader giggled. "Sadist," Eret muttered. The insufferable bookworm shrugged, still grinning. "I already have her tied down, let's go."

All ninety humans were gathered there; current handlers and handlers-to-be, sitting on top of bags of supplies and three dome-shaped cages. Grimmel, to absolutely no one's surprise, was walking in a circle in the center and ranting.

"What the hell happened? We've had them all trained for this exact situation, and they've never been that bad at both exercises or operations! Are you sure there wasn't anything in the water or with the animals there? No, don't respond. Who fed their Night Fury meat from some animals there, left palm up, and who's beast was misbehaving, right palm up."

Grimmel looked over them all and frowned. The left and right palms weren't converging much. It wasn't that.

"It isn't a very good explanation, but maybe they got rusty?" Bawon suggested. The skinny, grey-haired, grey-eyed handler scowled. "In, what, a week? No way. That's one of the dumbest things I've heard from you, and that says something."

Bawon huffed indignantly and rested his chin on his palms. Grimmel continued pacing.

"So, what, they all planned this so their comrade could escape?"

Some chuckled at that, some remained impassive, but Eret's anxious expression garnered the commander's attention. Oh crap.

"What? Very funny of you. I will die from laughter, except it is just pathetic. Now explain yourself."

Eret blinked in surprise. "What?!" Grimmel only stared at him. Interactions with him weren't exactly walking on explosive eggshells, but angering him wasn't a good idea either.

"This is just a weird thing I've seen, but some wise man likely has seen it as well and found a good explanation. It doesn't matter."

"And what exactly did you see?" Grimmel looked at his nails disinterestedly.

"Well, after I and Lucy—"

"Identify your Night Fury properly."

"After I and 16-5-b restrained two Night Furies fighting each other, she argued with one of them. I mean, they were snarling at each other."

"Hmm, let's think. Two female animals in close proximity, what would be typical behaviour?" After saying this, Grimmel prompted him to continue, smugly.

Great, seems that I will be made fun of today. Let's hope he does it to someone else after, so fewer people remember.

"...And then Lu— 16-5-b instantly calmed down after one remark and crooned. I don't actually think they talked, but it looked—"

"Weird indeed." The Commander scratched his chin and nodded seriously. Very funny.

"And she—"

"Use proper identification."

Eret barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Before this, just after we managed to get into the air properly, 16-5-b made a sound, and a while after that, all the other Night Furies steadied their flight."

Grimmel grinned smugly and coughed into his hand theatrically. "Well, let's see... how can we check if there is any pattern here."

"The ones that wouldn't be helping Albino escape, assuming they do at all, would be the ones raised from an egg," remarked Bawon off-handedly, and Grimmel's eyes lit up.

"Right. Everyone whose Night Fury was misbehaving, raise left hand. Everyone whose Night Fury was raised in my manor, raise right hand."

To everyone's surprise, there was literally no overlap. Grimmel whistled. "Now, that is a mystery to unravel. Left hands of handlers of beasts that were behaving normally but were attacked or interrupted by others up, right ones of beast that were raised instead of captured up."

They overlapped nearly perfectly. Grimmel scrunched his brow. "I meant ones that were raised in the manor, not the ones we raised on the way before I got stables there set up."

Now they aligned perfectly. It looked a bit hilarious, though—grown men raising their hands up simultaneously like kids do to ask a question, and in surrender.

"Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, thrice is enemy action," recited Grimmel.

Handlers looked uneasily between each other. "Most of you won't know it, unless you dug it up from my right-hand man. But originally, I was convinced that Night Furies were not animals and tried to interrogate captured ones. Then, I thought that they obviously don't know human speech and tried to teach them it without success before deciding that I was wrong on this. I justified their flawless plan during the Blitz by them simply being more scared of cities, and I thought everything else as coincidence."

Grimmel suddenly stopped his pacing and straightened completely, with his chin lifted up into the air and stern eyes piercing into the crowd. "Now I see that I assumed wrong. First things first, gag every dragon that was captured, and if you even think the others are talking, gag them as well. There is also a distinct possibility that they communicate non-verbally, so blindfold them as well, and do not take any of this off unless you need to for keeping them alive."

"There is only one reason why they all would suddenly decide to help one of them escape: Albino is out for reinforcements. And considering the meager losses the Blitz faced, even when attacking heavily fortified cities — much less those few wooden forts trying to deter them here — committing themselves to retrieving our battle-thralls will be well worth it from the perspective of raw numbers."

"As such, we will continue the hunt for the next month, as well as perform intense long-range patrols. If we do not find him in this time, or if anyone fails to return, handlers with raised Night Furies — mark those with some red piece of cloth at the neck, we will standardize it later — will all fly south and try to reach my manor, or at least a city willing to take us in. Others will wait here for the Sailing Guild and pay with a check. I will prepare in short order for transportation to the manor alongside their Night Furies. If the Blitz does show up before the Sailing Guild arrives, try to escape, and if you can't, do not engage them. Your Night Furies will turn on you the second they realize what is happening. Just kill your battle-thralls if you have no hope of escape."

"Captured Night Furies will be used for patrols and the hunt, but they are to be gagged at all times. Punish them whenever you have even slightest suspicion they communicate by gestures. And for each minor misbehaviour, that now includes attempt at communication, whip them ten times, twenty for middle, and how much do you want for heavy? Have your darts ready all the time as well, I don't want you to get killed just because some beast got angry."

"I want every team to have one Night Fury raised at the manor. Sort it out so that is the case, and move any spares to my team. If anyone on the team spots any Night Fury, they are to immediately return here, and we will proceed with evacuation in order as if someone was lost."

"Hm, also, maybe we should cut out their tongues instead of gaging. No. We can't trust them with their fire anymore anyway. Though you are allowed to exert it as punishment for heavy misbehaviour."

Mumbles and protests rose from the crowd. Grimmel bristled and yelled, "Dismissed!" His subordinates scurried off, hard-learned discipline setting in, save for Bawon and Eret, the first frowning and inquiring, the second too shocked to move.

"Why are we even keeping them since we can't trust them anymore? For breeding purposes?"

"Yes. Now, dismissed."

Eret went to his room and closed the doors, then slumped down them, looking up at his night fury — his slave.

He knew slavery was a great part of many societies. As much as he despised it, he thought he couldn't do anything about it, certainly not without risking a horrible death at the hands of his own master.

"I always turned a blind eye, thinking that I can't do anything," he whispered, mindful to not be heard, and kneeled before the Night Fury, seeing both pairs of irises dilated.

What was Lucy — she likely had a far better name — thinking? Would she kill him if given an opportunity which did not end in her dying as well? He would do that to his own 'employer', after all.

Now so many of her actions made so much more sense; attempts at salvaging the last bits of dignity after being maimed and then shackled into the role of mount and warhound, forced to obey or never touch the sky again.

"Oh spirits. I have no hope that you will forgive me, and it will only get worse for you from now on."

He trembled, and she was perturbed by his unusual behaviour, but not really unnerved.

Primal, spine-freezing, mind-shackling fear resurfaced in him. He knew he would do it to save his own skin, no matter how much he hated it and how much he would despise himself afterwards.

Eret retrieved his pillow and rope. He tied the rope around the pillow, removed the bridle, and with a pained expression, stuffed the makeshift gag into her mouth instead. She looked at him without understanding. For a while. Then understanding sparked in the dragoness's eyes, and she thrashed in panic and in vain as he tied ropes to her collar, securing it in place. Her teeth retracted and detracted; her eyes shot in every direction, searching for something, anything to help her escape. But there was nothing. Even if he released her from all restraints, she would be subdued before leaving the barracks, or, if she managed to sneak out, would be killed by soldiers at the outposts for walking around without her handler.

Her eyes suddenly latched onto his own, filled with a mix of despair and fury burning so hot that it could burn the whole world.

Coward.

Then he just sat there and watched as her furious thrashing was reduced to slumped despair and quiet sobs.

What could he do? What could he do!? If he did nothing, she wouldn't be 'just' a draft animal and battle-thrall either, no, she would be reduced to a breeding animal. She would have her young taken from her before she could see how they were raised to be nothing more than tools meant only to serve their masters, to fight and die for ones that took away their future, never even realizing what they lost, knowing only servitude their entire lives.

Something snapped inside Eret.

No.

One thought engraved itself into his mind as if into the hardest bedrock, to stay there long after his body turned to ash and screamed out its defiance.

He would not do onto others what was done onto him. This. Will. Not. Happen.

So what could he do to get her out of here? No. Not only her. Without him, she would be unable to fly. Them.

They could blatantly escape, but Lucy didn't have the highest endurance nor speed; the Night Furies raised back at the manor specifically had extremely heavy exercise. So they needed to disappear. By Grimmel's own orders, they would not try to find them but instead move away, and because of that, the enslaved Night Furies would not get killed.

Yes. Disappearing. Now he needed to think of how exactly to do that and how to evade getting killed by Lucy and the Blitz if they stumbled into them.

First things first, moving out in the first day or even the first week would be suspicious. There was only so much distance Albino could cross on paw after all. Two weeks, he decided, should suffice though.

Hi! Author here. (kinda obvious, duh)

This chapter and last one were originally one chapter, but considering that it would render the chapter 12 000 words long, I decided to slice it in half. How could I not, if there was such a perfect opportunity for a cliff? :D