Author's Notes:
Ahhh… it feels good to be writing again. Kinda sad we didn't go over 500 reviews in the previous chapter. That would've been an awesome way to cap the decade. Still I am very grateful all of you continue to follow the story. Thank you so much!
Anyway, this is my first chapter for the new decade. Just a bit above 5K. Short and sweet. Hope y'all like it.
Ah, FYI. The phrase "reddit-to-black", which you'll encounter later, is a contracted form of "red-eight to black", which is a slang that has usage similar to 24/7/30 in modern English. It refers to how, in Aimless canon, the Realms' red moon orbits the planet in 41-day cycles and 8 days correspond to a full week.
My beta, strykeruk, has a message for y'all too: Hello everyone, Strykeruk here to congratulate our favourite fanfic writer on his newly married status! Fortunately he's back in full swing again and writing with his usual speed and quality. From the previews I've seen you guys are in for a treat. Anyway enough from me, enjoy the chapter.
Timestamp key: "D" for days, "W" for weeks, "M" for months, "Y" for years, "EM" for early morning, "LM" for late morning, "EA" for early afternoon, "LA" for late afternoon, "EE" for early evening, "LN" for late night, and "AD" for all day. Note that the Realms follows the sexagesimal system for keeping time, just like Earth. (In other words, 60 seconds per minute and 60 minutes per hour.)
Snip category key: There are four categories of snips. "Settling In", "City Life", "Beyond the Wall", and "The Journey Home". All four represent parallel storylines that take place within Aimless, and other than "Settling In", each snip category has at least two subtypes. Those subtypes aren't listed due to potential spoilers.
Enjoy!
Beyond the Wall – Ape Menace
Chapter 40: Departure
"We don't receive wisdom; we must discover it for ourselves after a journey that no one can take for us or spare us."
- Marcel Proust
[42D/EM]
Warfang, the City of Dragons.
An enormous fortress city with gargantuan walls encircling its borders. Farmlands surrounded it from all sides, drawing life and prosperity from a river that snaked through the tunnels beneath the city and emerged between the Southern and Eastern Gates. An Earth dragon soared across Warfang's skies. The morning sun cast its pale glow on their gleaming armor, which almost mirrored the cobblestone grey of their large, jagged horns.
The dragon knight eyed the vast city below them. From this height, they could follow the main speedway leading from the Temple to the Eastern Gates and the scores of dragons flying along its preset course. With a sonorous flap of their wings the dragon plunged into a nose dive. The wind rushed past their earholes, caressed the membranes of their wings in its passing, and muffled the startled cries among the people manning the walls.
Dragons bearing armor, each sporting an insignia of the Allied Territories of Warfang, took to the air to meet the approaching stranger. No doubt to discipline what they believed was a mere enforcer of the city for ignoring flight rules, or specifically, flying beyond speedway limits.
Those envious eggs couldn't be more wrong.
For Claytor was a knight of Talonpoint Keep. A knight tasked with an important mission.
"Clear skies!" Claytor bellowed, his deep shout drawn directly from his diaphragm. Pulling out a metal trinket from his satchel, the Earth dragon slowed his descent enough for the city guard to perceive—and identify—the official Talonpoint Badge in his claws. "Your enthusiasm is unneeded," he chuckled. "I am a knight of Talonpoint Keep. I can fly beyond speedway limits."
The dragon leading the group below recognized the badge immediately. He did not bother questioning its authenticity. "Steady winds! Ah, so that was you, Claytor. Come down and land. We've been waiting for you on the walls."
Claytor accepted the request without uttering another word. He stowed the Talonpoint Badge inside his satchel and continued his downward plunge. The city guards turned to follow the Earth dragon the moment he passed them. Their leader, though, had the skill to keep up. "Impressive sight, isn't it?" spoke the guard. "You wouldn't have thought the Incident with the furless ape happened just last cycle."
He was referring to the Eastern Gates. Claytor grunted. "Indeed. It's as if he's never been there." The Talonpoint knight ogled the organized chaos below. Residents and visitors alike fell in line past the gates. They slowly hauled themselves in, one by one, their entry cleared by a mole and members of the city guard. Those who Azeroth the Infinite blessed with flight—dragonkind, of course—circled the airspace above the wall, the warm summer winds lifting them high. There they would wait for trained paws on the wall to send over light signals for them to touch down for processing.
Claytor's eyes scanned the top. He glimpsed the azure figure standing by the edge, the reptile facing what looked like a caravan of knights and squires gathering at a nearby hill. There she is! Gravity dragged the Earth dragon with cold, ruthless impunity, the wind shrieking into his ear holes for the few seconds he remained in freefall.
With skill, Claytor spread his wings to catch the air, spiraling upward a bit before, giving it a few tentative flaps, floating down to the top of the wall next to the blue dragoness observing the sights below. "Clear skies," he greeted, sending a gentle, downward gaze her way. He was quite big for a dragon his age. "Are you Altai?"
The dragoness turned to face him. An adolescent on the cusp of adulthood, much like Spyro and Cynder, the famed heroes of the Dragon Realms. Altai's scales were beautiful; they matched the dark dorsal fins lining her spine, even as they glimmered with the pale colors of the blue sky. Her cerulean eyes lingered on Claytor. He could feel the dragon appraising him, the armor he wore, the weapons within which his talons and tail were sheathed, and everything the lustrous, enchanted metal stood for.
"Steady winds," she spoke. Her voice was soft, like snowfall. Only now did Claytor realize Altai had a mane of white fur. Odd, for a dragon. "You must be the knight we're waiting for. From Talonpoint Keep."
"Correct." Claytor straightened his posture and gruffly introduced himself. "My name is Claytor, from Talonpoint Keep's 11th battalion. I'm a former student of the Earth Guardian, Master Terrador. The Warfang Council tasked me to lead a vintaine of knights to Eyria, in the hopes—no, the certainty we will erase the ape menace plaguing the December Cliffs."
Altai was quiet. She looked over the caravan below—the caravan Claytor would lead for a few seconds. "...Have you fought Apes before?" She asked.
"During the War," said Claytor. "Several years ago, in a city to the southeast, but as an untrained drake, not a Talonpoint knight. I've also done a few cycles of border security."
Altai's snout grimaced at his reply. Did she expect a battle-hardened veteran? After a few years of peacetime? Lord Caesar's post-war isolationist policy meant border security was the only way soldiers of the Allied Territories could experience direct combat with Apes.
Unfortunately there was only so much Ape fighters and bandits could provide and the primates were as crafty as they were dirty. Altai knew this much. Everyone did.
The dragon leading the city guards landed behind Claytor, albeit with less grace. "Little Wing," he addressed her, "I can see the worry on your muzzle. Wipe it off. It is unwarranted."
"But—
"It is true, many of Talonpoint Keep's knights haven't seen true warfare with Ape soldiers, but, by Egeria's wisdom, you should feel reassured with Sir Claytor's leadership. He has been adequately trained. Besides, he'd just been transferred from his assignment of guarding the furless ape for a full red cycle."
Altai reacted at the name. "The furless ape?" She paused for a second, speechless. "It's actually real?"
"Not everything soaring in the airstreams are fake news and hyperbole," said the guard. "Indeed, it's the same butcher who slew scores of Warfang's finest. Screaming Ape curses at my fellow guards, enjoying the thrill of cold-blooded murder, throwing our city into chaos at the Dark Master's command like the Terror of the Skies before him." He stomped the stone as his voice trailed off. His eyes narrowed. A growl echoed in his throat. "With eight other Talonpoint knights, Claytor was given the challenge of protecting Warfang from this demon. Azeroth the Infinite, if that doesn't make you feel safer here, I don't know what will."
Considering the fervor he just exhibited, Claytor decided not to expose the delusions and kept the truth to himself. The last thing the Earth dragon wanted to leak out was the news of Joshua Renalia achieving renown among the Temple's young, struggling apprentices. He was not ready. Warfang was not ready. Not yet. Not for a long time.
A very long time.
"Seeing as you're here, I guess you've done your work very well." Altai's mood improved when she heard the story. The celeste dragoness even dared to smile. "Guarding the furless ape... I can't even begin to imagine how terrifying it would be..."
It wasn't, Claytor wanted to say, not at all. He wouldn't even be standing here right now if Joshua didn't advise him to get out and do something else instead of waiting for a storm that would never, ever come.
Claytor didn't say anything in response to that. Let them live in their delusions. Reality would settle in, sooner or later. Lady Cynder and Master Volteer would certainly see to that. The Dragon Knight raised his head. He stared at the sun. It was starting to get late.
"We need to go soon, Altai," Claytor said. He unfurled his wings. "They better be ready." In one stroke, the knight took to the air.
Bidding the city guards farewell, he leapt off the wall and spread his wings as he glided down to the caravan on the hill.
.
.
.
.
.
Claytor's rugged armor and his rather imposing size drew eyes the second he landed by the caravan. The vintaine was a mixture of several species, as unanimously decided by Councilor Tuconsis and the Guardians. Bears, gnorcs, and atlawa comprised the first twelve of the group, the proportions nearly even. There were four Ice dragons and two Earth dragons. The remaining two were... they were Wind dragons.
Skylanders.
The Dragon Knight gritted his teeth. He suppressed the sick feeling stewing in his liver. Scales so white they could blend in the clouds, and a pair of wings strong enough—thick enough to manage even the torrential winds of the Long Winter, or the Empty Sea.
These accursed foreigners, dirtying Warfang soil. Claytor frowned. The Ancestors-damned reptiles had no business meddling in Warfang's internal matters. For all he knew, they were feeding information to the Grand Celestial Palace. What were they thinking, letting potential spies frolic among them? The Empire's interest in Joshua was bad enough. If by some fluke this flight plan went wrong, the Sky Empress would know within days.
Alas he was here to do one job, and second-guessing the decisions of people better than him was not it. "The name is Claytor," he introduced himself once more. "Talonpoint Keep. 11th battalion. Recently transferred from the Temple. Security duty for the furless ape." He stood tall and adopted a dignified posture. "I'll be your Vinetar for this flight."
Scattered amongst the wagons were the Ice dragons from December. He knew who they were from age alone, being the only adolescent dragons in the entire group. Altai flew in and landed among them, chattering excitedly, her wings gesturing at him and the other knights.
Claytor's self-introduction piqued the vintaine's interest. After all, it wasn't every day that they met somebody in rather close proximity to Warfang's most popular topic of the cycle. "It's nothing special," the Dragon Knight downplayed. "Just guard duty. It gets boring after a while, like everything else."
Some of the squires in the crowd whined at the response. They asked Claytor if the furless ape tried to cast its weird magic on him, if the furless ape cursed them every night, if it was true that Submaster Kaos visited him, or that he had brainwashed an apprentice with some mysterious and sinister power. Though tempted to shatter their minds with the undeniable truth, the Talonpoint knight felt it was not his place to say anything.
"Listen up. There are a few things about Joshua—I mean, the furless ape that the Council is investigating. They'll be making some"—how should he word this? Hmmm. He couldn't be seen as too deviant.—" announcements regarding his fate soon. It's already been a cycle since the Incident so the guys making the decisions aren't really flying blind."
"Are they going to kill him?" asked a squire, a bear. The look on his muzzle suggested he, like almost everybody else, wanted the kid dead.
"I don't know," Claytor said. "I'm not privy to discussions of that level. I may fly quite a bit higher than you, but I'm merely knight of the Allied Territories."
Another replied, "But, Vinetar! You were that devil's guard!"
"So what? My opinion will not matter."
"Yes it will," Altai pushed. Claytor watched her approach, keen on joining the conversation. "My mother Ophelia is an elder of Eyria Village, and she takes everything into consideration. If this furless ape is as dangerous as the airstreams make him out to be, Vinetar Claytor, then in the absence of other matters, the Council will probably vote for his execution."
Claytor frowned. He had hoped this argument wouldn't have been thrown at him. "The Talonpoint Code commands me to respect the secrecy of certain missions, and for a myriad reasons such as matters of safety." His eyes found the Wind Dragons loitering near the back of the crowd, straddling the boundary between the vintaine and the messengers from December. "And politics. I have no obligation to lend you my thoughts on the furless ape.
"But, let me just say this." Hopefully this would cushion the surprise waiting for the other knights when it happened. "The furless ape is different from the whispers flying in the winds. I don't doubt that people will have many reactions to the coming announcements, but for sure the Council and the Guardians will act on indisputable fact. That's all I'm going to say about it. Is that clear?"
Claytor straightened his posture and glared at them, daring to challenge him. When the group stayed quiet, he was satisfied. "Good." He began approaching one of the wagons. It was a cart with bulak covers protecting the occupants from the weather. They would need it; it would be freezing up in the north.
"Now, I hope you are all adequately prepared. The trip to December normally takes a little more than a full week by flight. Not all of us are dragons, so with the wagons we'll have a full two weeks of travel at least." Claytor turned his head to gaze at the other knights. "Have any of you reviewed the flight plan?"
"No, sir."
He paused. His jaw dropped. "By Egeria. Nobody?" Claytor's eyes rolled over the group. "Not a single one, huh..."
Were they planning on relying solely on the Vinetar to guide them to December and back? Or worse, ask the messengers who risked their wings just flying to Warfang to lead the way?
Unacceptable! Were Warfang's knights this lazy nowadays? Ancestors damn them, the peace was really making them complacent if they'd much rather fly headfirst into something rather than checking things out from afar.
"I don't know why you'd all like to fly blind like this, but even if we'll just face the typical Ape rogue, if you are caught unprepared you will not be coming out of this in one piece. Now pay attention.
"The route to December is long, but the lands we'll pass through are friendly." Claytor reached into his mana and channeled a small, earthen platform into existence. With a single talon on its surface the dragon knight drew a crude picture of their route. They would go eastbound just far enough for them to circle around the volcano, continue northwest, pass a few mountains and forests, and then...
"We'll be taking a quick rest at Uzali to resupply. Sadly, whatever rations we bring won't last long enough 'til we get to the Cliffs, so we'll be living off game while we're approaching December. It'll be a tough climb up Icy Peak. It'd be nice if we can fly to Eyria from there."
Altai verbalized from the back, "You can't! That's too dangerous!"
Her outburst drew everyone's eyes, including Claytor himself. "Why?"
"December is too close to the North Pole," Altai reasoned, her expression one of alarm. "The winds around the Cliffs are violent reddit-to-black, and they get MUCH WORSE the closer you fly towards Aorathan Desert. Uncle Gileao says you might get caught in a downcurrent strong enough to throw you into Devil's Reach, and that's the LAST thing you ever want to happen!" The dragoness shut her eyes. Her lithe body trembled. "Believe me, you do NOT want to know what's lurking down there…"
Hmmm...
Claytor locked eyes with Altai. "How's the path leading to Eyria then?"
"Treacherously steep going down," she replied. "Right beside a cliff edge." By the Ancestors, that sounded like trouble. "It'll pass a few crevasses before it comes up to the hill overlooking Eyria. The path's always covered in snow, but as long as we're not traveling during the Long Winter it's passable. Just need to be extra careful with all the wagons we're taking with us."
"Noted," he acknowledged. "You heard the lady! It'll be hard just getting there! I hope you all prepared well." Claytor ran through a mental checklist of the supplies they needed for the trip. Rations and fur-lined clothing aside, they would also need sources of clean water, methods of creating artificial light, as well as flint, tinder, and some wood for making a fire. Not to mention supplies and gear for bitter combat against the Apes.
As useful as they were, neither Earth nor Ice dragons were all-powerful. Such precautions were necessary.
"Altai!" Claytor hollered. "Come with me and let's inspect the wagons one by one—
Suddenly high-pitched squeals and agitated whining engulfed both the vintaine and the messengers from December. The Vinetar, prompted by the uproar, looked away from the Ice Dragoness before him. At a glance, everybody in the caravan was staring up towards a blind spot in Claytor's line of sight. Some were gesturing forth with their wings, or their fingers. All wore expressions of great excitement or joy.
"By the Ancestors, he's here, he's here!"
"Huntress shoot me, I've never had this much luck before..."
"Rare, opportunity. Wonderful."
Both Altai and Claytor followed their eyes and looked up.
Just in time to see Spyro, the Purple Dragon of Legend, the great Hero of the Dragon Realms, the Savior of this world, gracefully plopping his paws down near them.
.
.
.
Claytor only realised Spyro had his eyes set on him when the Savior started ambling in his direction. His posture, his stare, and his movement all imbibed a sense of a most dogged determination. Whether he knew it or not, Spyro was invoking the image of an epic hero on a desperate quest to save the world.
It did not help that the vintaine made way for him, easily parting the crowd.
"Clear skies, Lord Spyro," Claytor greeted, his head nodding in a slight bow. "Did you come to see us off?"
"Let's dispense with the formalities," Spyro replied. His dismissal of the customary greeting indicated something was wrong. "I'll fly straight to the point here. Claytor, was it? I remember Councilor Tuconsis assigning you as Vinetar for the reinforcements we're sending to December."
"Yes, my lord. That's right. What do you want?"
Spyro dropped something huge on his plate. "I want to go with you."
Claytor froze. He wants to what? "I-I'm sorry," the Talonpoint knight stammered. "I think I heard you wrong. Can you say that again? I, I could've sworn you just said—
"You heard me correctly. I want to go with your vintaine."
As awesome as it was to imagine the Savior himself joining their ranks and culling the Apes in the north, Claytor felt his presence was inappropriate. Surely, he had more important matters to take care of here. "M-my lord, December Cliffs is a week's travel from Warfang. For us, even more—we have wagons. If you're gone for that long, you'll—
Claytor stopped when he heard the Purple Dragon growl at him, his accumulating frustration giving it power and weight. Spyro ambled away from him. He felt the hero's wing brush against his flank.
A signal to take the conversation private.
He followed Spyro a few steps down the hill. Claytor eyed the two Skylanders joining the vintaine and hoped they weren't listening in, or didn't have the ability for it.
"It's not that I want to go to December, Claytor," Spyro said, when they reached the bottom. "I have to go with you. No, I NEED to go!"
The Hero of the Dragon Realms raised his head up at Claytor. Despite being an adolescent the same age as Altai, despite being a notch or two smaller than the Earth Dragon himself, Spyro's glare possessed a distinctively intimidating aura.
Spyro would have gotten his way had he been speaking to any other person in this caravan. Not so, for a dragon knight of Talonpoint Keep. Dealing with threats and intimidation was part of the standard training regimen, and if the flight leader didn't freely dispense it, the head of the Keep or their direct subordinates did. The Guardians would even encourage it. At some point a squire would face a seasoned veteran with years of experience beyond the walls, with none of the respect or leniency provided to temple apprentices or gilded wings. To simulate some opponents from outside, it was said.
Claytor had seen worse glares from Seriphos. Even Volteer could pull a meaner glower than Spyro's if the right circumstances led to it. This was nothing. Instead, the dragon knight studied the Savior's muzzle. The signs were troubling. His eyes shook. His wings drooped. His tail sagged on the ground, dragging its sharp tip along the grass. Spyro was probably resisting the urge to yawn. Irritation and impatience were all but written all over his body.
"Spyro, did you even get to sleep last night?"
He growled. Claytor saw the dragon's forepaws clench. "Of course not! I've been—
Claytor sighed. "My lord, you should really think about this. You—By the Lifebringer, you didn't tell Lady Cynder or the Guardians you were coming here, did you?"
"I don't have to tell them anything."
"Lady Cynder's your mate. At least she—
"They don't control me!" Spyro snapped at him. "Nobody does. I have the right to accompany your vintaine to December. I've been meaning to go explore the Allied Territories anyway, so I may as well join your group."
Claytor did not listen to him so much as he analysed his body language. He was mad; and visibly stressed. Something was bothering him, but it wasn't something he wanted to talk about with the important people in his life. Somehow, Claytor knew... Claytor knew Joshua Renalia was the cause. The human was the only reason Spyro would act this way. Mother of Knowledge, was he still in denial?
"My lord, perhaps you're better off flying over to Fjallamor?" the Talonpoint knight propounded. "It's the nearest town to Blackstone Pass. Just a couple days away from here by flight, if you don't recall. I'm definite our soldiers there will appreciate your visit."
"Your friends in Fjallamor won't need my help cleaning up the Ape bandits around Sunburst Woods and Blackstone Pass. I'm more concerned about what's happening in December. I have a feeling the storm brewing up north isn't as simple as we all think it is."
Even if that was true, the vintaine Claytor led had the numbers and qualifications to deal with the mess. Besides, Warfang could always ramp up the reinforcements and send a full centain to December. "This is about Joshua, isn't it?"
Spyro scowled at him, not uttering a word.
"Tell me the truth."
"I already told you the truth. I'm not saying anything else." Azeroth, the Purple Dragon could be obstinate when he wanted to be.
"Your Grace," Claytor said, "I've guarded Joshua for one entire red cycle. To sum it up, the boy's all right."
Spyro opened his mouth to rebut, but the Vinetar spoke first. "Let me finish. He's naive, he's stupid, and he's lazy, just like any adolescent whelp that just hit puberty. But that boy loves his sister, he's got a new friend, and after that show he pulled yesterday, you and I both know he'll have a new job by next Meredy.
"I know what you believe in, my lord, and I know you don't want to hear this, but the truth is, Joshua's nothing like the sinister devil everyone's portraying him to be. Even you." Claytor stepped closer. He glowered at the Savior and stared him down. "You are wasting your time, Spyro. Believe me, please! You have much better things to do in Warfang. You can't just fly off to the farthest reaches of the Allied Territories thinking you'll find something that will—
"I don't care," Spyro retorted. "I DON'T CARE!" He roared at Claytor, and the Vinetar could've sworn the dragon's bright, purple scales darkened for an instant. Spyro didn't give him time to process this information as he thrust his head forward and forced the Talonpoint knight to bend over and bring his own horns down in defense.
Spyro affirmed, "I'm going with you, no matter what! I need to go! It's got to be December. What I'm looking for isn't in Fjallamor or anywhere else. This is my best chance…"
"Your best chance at what, Spyro?"
"At making sure…"
The glimmer of tears welling up in the Hero's eyes were so clear to Claytor. The emotions raging inside the young dragon were so palpable… tangible. He was simply that determined to go north. If the knight didn't permit Spyro to tag along with them, then he was probably going to do something stupid and possibly kill himself in the process.
Claytor finally relented. How couldn't he? "Grrr, fine!" He snarled. "Fine! Have it your way, then!"
Spyro stepped back the moment the words flew out of Claytor's maw.
Lifebringer's mercy, what am I doing? "As Vinetar," he proclaimed, "I'm giving you permission to join the vintaine. I'm not so arrogant as to think I have the authority and the experience to command the Purple Dragon of Legend himself, but I pray to Azeroth you'll respect my leadership."
"I will," Spyro said, heaving sighs of relief. He allowed a smile to appear on his muzzle. "But I'll act according to my experience if I have to."
The same experience that brought down King Gaul and the Dark Master years ago, the sentence implied. Claytor couldn't find himself to care about the Savior's language. Admittedly, having him with the vintaine greatly increased their chances of succeeding the mission. The only thing that struck his heart was not the thought of indulging in the Hero's whims, but rather the people he was leaving behind. The people who'd start worrying about him.
Azeroth the Infinite, he had to see one of the Moles at the gate before they left.
"Anything from the Savior of the Realms will surely be invaluable," Claytor said. He didn't like the way Spyro's smile grew wider at his remark. A calamity could engulf the world if the Purple Dragon ever became arrogant. It had happened before. Cockiness only got people killed, regardless of species.
"Hope you're ready for the trip now, Spyro, because I'm not waiting for you."
Claytor took flight in one powerful leap. His wings thunderously flapping in the air, the Earth Dragon flew up the hill. A smile graced his muzzle when he glimpsed Altai and the other messengers inspecting the wagons. It was clearly the dragoness' idea. He was impressed by the young reptile. The daughter of a village elder knew how to take initiative.
Altai strolled over to Claytor the instant he landed on the ground. "Vinetar Claytor, in your brief absence I've taken the liberty to inspect the readiness of your vintaine. The supplies are good. Your equipment is several grades better than the standard gear we issue to guards in Eyria, but I think it's insufficient for the weather. Your fellow dragons will probably just have to deal with a slight, uhmm, discomfort, but the bipeds will suffer."
"They should have packed fur-lined clothing—
"They did, but I think it's not enough for the Cliffs. We'll have to get their clothing enchanted for cold resistance."
In his peripheral vision Claytor saw Spyro ascending the hill after him. He grunted. They had to leave as soon as possible. If they dawdled longer here at the Gates, they might just end up alerting the moles to Spyro's lingering presence among them. While he wouldn't mind this, Spyro certainly would. The last thing he wanted—the last thing anybody in Warfang wanted—was the Purple Dragon himself breathing hellfire on him and wanting to tear his horns off.
"I'm sure we can find an enchanter when we stop over at Uzali," Claytor said. "Altai, don't worry about it." That place was a lot closer to December and more densely populated, for sure. They shouldn't have problems. "Anyway, I have an announcement to make." He turned away and a green shade of light enshrouded his leg.
Claytor stomped down on the ground. It caused a micro-earthquake centered on him, instantly seizing everyone's attention. "Everyone!" He bellowed. "I have great news! Lord Spyro is joining the vintaine. He'll be assisting us with our mission in December!"
Everyone fell silent at the news. Dumbstruck expressions appeared on everyone's faces in unison.
"You aren't pulling our tails?" spoke one of the Ice dragons. "Because that would be such a distasteful joke..."
Spyro answered him before Claytor could. "Good thing he isn't joking then." Everyone whipped towards the Purple Dragon, who sat on his haunches and awkwardly waved a forepaw. The grin on his face seemed to mirror the gesture. "Hello, everyone. Looks like I'll be troubling you guys for a few weeks."
The way Spyro smoothly morphed from an insecure dragon agonizing over new revelations and his beliefs to the beloved hero of the city was amazing. Closely watching him like this, the Talonpoint Knight couldn't find any traces of the anger, the irritation, or the impatience he displayed a few minutes ago.
All of a sudden, cheers and yells burst from the crowd. Both knights and messengers whooped in jubilation.
One of the dragons began rolling on the ground, pawing at it like an excited whelp. "Ancestors, ancestors, ancestors! The Purple Dragon's coming with us. He's coming with us!"
"Praise Azeroth! We're saved." One of Altai's fellow messengers buckled down on the grass and wept. "December is saved."
One of the Skylanders approached Spyro, his snout sporting a grin as though he just ate a plate full of dragonberries. "Well this is an honest surprise," he began. "I didn't know I'd be spending time with the all-powerful Savior on my first mission in the Allied Territories."
A scowl flashed on Spyro's muzzle when he saw who exactly spoke to him. If Claytor didn't like Skylanders, Spyro had an even more antagonistic stance towards the Empire after the controversial "study" Submaster Kaos got away with a few days ago. Luckily there was no need to worry over his reaction. Spyro effortlessly regained his composure. "Huh, I didn't know Claytor's vintaine was working with orators from the Empire."
"We are hardly orators, Your Grace," replied the other Skylander. The Wind Dragon sat down on his haunches and licked his wing, practically preening his majestic form as he swept his long tongue across the soft scales. "Akash and I are mere third-class secretaries, two of the many dragons working under Orator Skydancer."
"You still haven't explained why you're here," Spyro questioned.
Akash spoke, "According to the Treaty of Tall Plains, for the sake of mutual cooperation and friendship, the Empire can attach a number of envoys to missions performed by the Allied Territories under certain conditions involving secrecy. Orator Skydancer argued for our participation here when this mission was discussed."
"Don't you recall that?" asked Akash's colleague. "You were there, Lord Spyro."
If it wasn't for the risk this could evolve into another incident with the Empire, Claytor would have laughed at how Spyro grimaced in response. Even if Spyro was there, he couldn't have heard it, let alone actively participate in that meeting. Not with Joshua Renalia turbulently flying around in his head.
Lord Spyro can take care of himself, Claytor thought to himself as he walked away without even bothering to hear the Hero's reply. He made his way towards the eastern gates, but not before proclaiming to the vintaine that they were leaving as soon as he returned. Spyro had given the Vinetar a dissatisfied look when the announcement was made, but in the end he could do nothing about it. The Talonpoint Code required Claytor to report the change in their roster, after all.
Perhaps it wasn't his business to meddle in his relationship with Lady Cynder, but it was most certainly his duty to report anything that could—that would alleviate the worries of his superiors. He'd do his best to keep Lord Spyro away from danger, but... eh, who was he kidding? The Savior himself was danger. Azeroth's cloaca, it was far more likely that he would be saving him and his vintaine. Not the other way around.
The caravan was ready to leave Warfang the exact moment Claytor returned from the gates, hauling some extra gear just in case they needed them. He saw Altai waiting for him. Spyro stayed with the other knights, keeping them company and regaling them with tales from the War rather than sticking with the messengers or the two Skylanders. An impressive sight, for sure. His opinion of both Altai and Spyro rose to greater heights. The former for her leadership. The latter for his ability to endure.
Once the additions to their supplies were distributed, Claytor took to the air. With a decisive yell booming from his maw, he barked out a few instructions and led the caravan away. Dragons got in front of some wagons and hauled them. The bipeds did the same with the rest. They moved with haste, knowing that every hour, every minute, every second they wasted gave the Apes in the north more time to wreak havoc and terrorize the communities there.
Spyro and the Vinetar flew in front, soaring at a speed and height just enough for the caravan to keep up. They would travel the path eastbound until they reached Summer Forest. From there, they would change directions and travel north, following the road as it curved westward and circled around the volcano directly north of Warfang.
Claytor looked over his shoulder. He smiled, seeing the vintaine's tight three-dimensional formation around the caravan. It was made exactly as he envisioned it. No Ape bandit or wild animal was hitting them along the way to December Cliffs.
Altai decided to join them an hour after they departed Warfang. The Ice dragoness separated from her fellow messengers and took flight. She peppered Spyro with joy at his decision to accompany them. "Spring of Fortune bless you, Lord Spyro," she said. "Thank you for coming with us."
"It's nothing, Altai," he replied. "I'm just making sure the Realms will stay safe."
"Glad to hear it," she said. "Eyria and the other villages will be much safer while you're around. You know, I don't think they've ever seen you up there. Uncle Gileao never stopped believing you weren't real until a messenger from Warfang came flying in announcing the war was over."
"It's a good thing I'm showing my muzzle there, then."
"All those Apes up there, ohhh they have no idea what's coming to them..."
Author's Notes:
Hehe, I'm really excited for the December Cliffs series of chapters. These will be a pretty serious thing all throughout and it will have repercussions for the story in the long run.
For those who are wondering, the wedding was awesome, btw. Everybody loved it. They had a blast. We even finished it off with fireworks and crazy-ass dancing. One of my friends ended up moshing in the fucking GARDEN and quite a few more got soooo drunk that one hurled somewhere and the other went home before the First Dance and all that stuff took place.
The marriage was nearly rendered null and void by the fucking CLERK writing up the contract, and we very nearly didn't sign the thing right at the altar because of the mistake. The local government and the Church were both unreasonably and illogically strict when it came to the paperwork and the signatures that had to be on it. It wasn't their problem that our witnesses were all flying back home to different countries the very next day, even though the whoooole mess was their fucking fault to begin with. Assholes. It's a long story that I don't want to bore anyone with, but at least we managed to get it fixed. Divine providence was at work; God blew up a volcano for us. lolololol
As for married life, it's fine. I feel like nothing has changed. It's just that my waifu and I are now legitimized. I'm sure it will be different once we decide to have kids though. That's the game-changer…
Oh, and one final message to Stryker. Dude! Sooo I kept exactly two words "anglicized". Have fun looking for them hehehehe. Don't cheat now! XDDDD
Replies to reviews:
Djax80. Okay, I finally learned what Boxing Day is after you told me about it in your PM.
The Reps dashed your hopes of Trump actually getting impeached though. Anyway, it's election season this year so… may as well make use of that.
SKDaGamer. Heeyyy thanks for the feedback!
Yeah, didn't expect to write this one either. I was telling myself I wasn't gonna write anything more after "Good Listener", but during Christmas Eve, the idea just hit me completely out of the blue. Glad you enjoyed seeing a bit of Joshua's life pre-Aimless.
BTW the wedding was awesome! (See above.)
Oh, and yeah, send me those links. I'd like to hear your music stuff. XD
DiabloPProcento. Hi Diablo! Thanks for the review. Glad you're following this story. :3
Romance is indeed in the cards somewhere down the road but sorry to say, I can't whip it out yet. There's just a few more things that have to be shown, at least for ol' Josh-O here. It'll come, though. It'll come, and it'll be… well, let's just say it's gonna take a lot of effort. Just be happy with Joshua/Kilat sibling fluff for now, hehe.
If you still think I should link up "Jelly" in my deviantart—it's the short continuation of "Good Listener"—then let me know. I'll put it up in the same post.
Derick Lindsey (guest). Hello and I'm glad you liked my little holiday bonus for 2019.
Alaric would've done better than Joshua as he's become fit and more knowledgeable about wilderness survival, but his fate would depend on where he gets dropped off. If he landed in Sunburst Woods, the Death Wolves will easily kill him. If he ended up a bit closer to Dry Canyon, then he might have been able to help Explodon's party enough to the point that Kilat wouldn't be a crippled sole survivor. Aaand he certainly wouldn't have walked through the front gate like Joshua. He would've done something else. Probably try and talk to Hunter and Paddock? Or move to Avalar as Aaron did in Broken Perceptions?
Re: the plushies. One is a definite reference to Kilat. The other one isn't Vara. Her name's really Aeris. It's a dragon OC from an original story I'm following on SoFurry, which I recently jumped into because so many people on Goldie's server kept mentioning it from time to time. It's called When Dragons Rule. WDR is actually very intense. Very serious. The first book is already complete and God, I'm wanting more of it. You should check it out.
Piston24. Hello! Glad you liked my holiday bonus :D
The quick segment where Joshua interacts with my self-insert is just meant to showcase how normal Joshua's life was back in the day. It also sets in place the fact he has a conservative background.
The real life Joshua acted just like this back in high school. Unfortunately I haven't met him since graduation and we've long drifted apart thanks to college and other things going on with me. Still, I'm sure he's doing just fine. He's gotten ripped though. I came across his profile on Facebook in early 2019 and it had a pic of him with huge muscles. Deeefinitely not the same otaku/gamer he was back then.
Oof, I probably got the ages wrong. Like, we know that Joshua was 15 when he was transmigrated to the Dragon Realms. Two years before that, he was 13. In my country of birth, before the government switched to the K-12 educational system in 2017 or 2018, we've had kids who would skip two entire grade levels. I was 13 when I was a high school freshman, but I've had the rare classmate or two who was one or two years younger than me.
This means Aimless!Joshua accelerated two grade levels. In real life… eh, I can't recall if he just skipped one level or if he progressed through the elementary system normally. Whatever. It's not important as far as Aimless is concerned.
Chaoscontrol108. Hello! Thanks for the review ^^
That's why I put a trigger warning in there. Joshua's a conservative prude, and he doesn't really pull punches when he's talking to people he's comfortable with. His mood was pretty common among high school kids back in the day, and in my country of birth; I don't know if that still applies now. Looking at my waifu's younger siblings… I'd say it still does.
Hope you enjoyed this chapter too.
Coollatiospokemon4342. Hi! Thanks for giving feedback again. Really appreciate it.
I think you can write your own fic. You just need to start a project. If your spelling and grammar are bad, then find a beta willing to help you out with it, or just let experience guide you through the process. (Experience won't be kind though.)
The thing is, a lot of my chapters have already been planned out and the only thing I do is just arrange them so that their order makes sense. Aimless's long-term plot is also fleshed out very well, up to a few years down the timeline, and it's going to be one hell of a ride. I started thinking about this more when Aimless was gaining reader traction in the Spyro FFN.
You don't even need to stay in Spyro or a fandom you like. You can always strike it out on your own with an original story. I'm planning one myself, just for kicks (mainly because the plot bunny refuses to leave me.)
LoNeWoLf (guest). Ahh, noticed that Joshua was receiving therapy for his left arm, eh? XD
Bizzleb. Hey Bizzle, glad to know you're still kicking and following this fic. :D
Alaric may be my self-insert, but I see no reason for him to be in Aimless in any sort of capacity other than flashbacks that… don't really have much of a place in the context of Joshua's storyline. Sooo yeah, a disposable OC through and through.
The feedback Alaric got from Joshua being relatable… yeah, it's meant to be that way. I've been on both the receiving end and the giving end of that conversation several times, and I'm sure you have been at one point. Heh, your Key series are cliché, too, as were River's old stories. I wonder who that writer was though… criticisms are painful to read, but they're necessary for your growth.
Mine was a guy who went by "Mr. T" in a now-defunct online forum for a popular MMORPG in the early 2000s, and every time he left a review for my chapters it was both fun and embarrassing to read. Fun, because he had a way with words (he once called a chapter of mine a "masturbatory piece of shit") and embarrassing, because his critiques were always valid, however vulgar they were delivered.
Flashback + Flash-forward all in the same chapter! Gotta love it. I'm abusing my ability to jump across the timeline here. Well, I'm abusing as much as I can. I won't be able to enjoy that same luxury as well as I am now once the real story gets going…
Speaking of which, this chapter marks the first in the December Cliffs story arc. Hehe, I'm sure you're very excited now. XD
Hope to see you in the next update! See you around.