Aimless

by The Silent Insomniac

Joshua Renalia finds himself lost in the Dragon Realms with nothing but his sleeping clothes, his knowledge of Spyro lore, and a power beyond his understanding. Cut off from all he knows, the human discovers Spyro's world is alien, unforgiving, brutally shattering his naive expectations. How long can he live here before going insane? Is there a way back home? Why is he even here?

50. (BW) (60D) Frostbite Village End

Author's notes:

Hey guys! Been a while since my last update. :D

I've been excited for this chapter for a long time, and I'm finally glad to crank it out. You'll see what I mean when you get to the end hehe.

Chapter length is exactly 12K, which falls right in the range I usually shoot for (8K ~ 12K).

Messages from my two beta readers below:

AzureDragonZX. Hello readers, AzureDragonZX here. Another chapter of Aimless is complete! Man, when Silent gets inspired, he can write at very impressive speeds! Anyways, there's plenty of world-building in this chapter, so I hope you all enjoy it!

Strykeruk. Hey all, Strykeruk here. I can only Echo Azure here and say that Silent keeps up a manic writing pace, between the two of us I think we've got it under control though haha. Enjoy the new chapter.

My reply to them — I appreciate the continued support, guys! You've been great to bounce ideas off of, and I'm glad y'all are excited for what's gonna come next in the chapters to come. Thanks again. Aimless wouldn't be as good if you two weren't around. :P

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!

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Beyond the Wall — Ape Menace

Chapter 50: Frostbite Village 3 (Final)

"Don't be afraid to ask questions. Don't be afraid to ask for help when you need it."

~ Barack Obama

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[60D/LA]

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The forest of December.

Pine trees as thick as adult dragons were wide covered the lowest depths of the plateau on which the region rested. They were dense in number, and enshrouded most of the clear, cloudless sky under their canopy.

Claytor strode in front of what remained of their caravan through the forests. Altai strolled beside him, having taken the initiative to lead everyone to Eyria, the village she called home. Slowly and deliberately did they crawl through the pine forest. Every half-hour or so, Claytor would send out a scout together with one of Altai's friends and check their bearings.

They did not go along the well-trodden roads that snaked through the crests and troughs of the forest. They traveled parallel to them at a slow pace to avoid drawing another ambush—one that they wouldn't be able to escape from without demolishing the forest in the process. Altai and her fellow messengers proved crucial; their familiarity with the landscape ensured that Claytor didn't lead the caravan into deep ravines or steep hills.

Many hours had passed since their escape last night. Altai was still upset over their encounter with Bartholomew. She constantly rubbed her wings across her flank, flummoxed. Claytor had questioned her on the matter, to which she had replied that the yetis usually kept to themselves in the highest peaks of December Cliffs. They traded with several villages in the region and rarely ventured down Icy Peak to the southern lands. The fact Bartholomew had four arms was a shock to her as well; never in the region's entire history had she ever heard about an individual like him.

The only clue to the yeti's identity—and possibly his purpose—rested with the two Skylands orators in his vintaine. Claytor recalled hearing one of them, Akash, muttering something to himself in confusion once Bartholomew had appeared. The dragon in question was currently recuperating together with his partner in one of their wagons, and neither was in any shape to answer questions. That would have to wait until they finally arrived in Eyria.

Luckily, the speed by which they made progress ensured they wouldn't spend another day out in the forests. Orange wisps had begun coloring the sky by the time they ascended a large hill. The tallest one they've climbed since descending to the lowest parts of the plateau. "We're almost there," said Altai. The Ice Dragoness had grown more energetic the longer they walked, spotting places and features most familiar to her. Her friends, too, felt the same, their tails swishing happily the longer their gaze lingered on the trail of smoke rising in the air.

It was only after cresting the snow-covered hill did they finally lay eyes on their destination. The village of Eyria was surrounded by a small canyon that was nestled into the mountain. The homes were made of wood and stone, but they were clearly worn down. They hadn't even descended into the village and already Claytor noticed signs that it'd weathered vicious attacks several times.

The Vinetar couldn't tell whether those had taken place in the Great War or during these difficult times. Still, it was clear to him that it wasn't a cheerful winter getaway, if it ever had been at all.

Unable to contain her excitement, Altai warbled, "We're home!" She trotted down the hill, rushing down the slopes so recklessly that Claytor thought she'd fall and tumble down to the village entrance. "Everyone, we're home!" Her voice quaked from sheer emotion.

Nuodai touched down beside him, having flown up from the middle of the caravan. "I-it's so good to be back," he uttered. The messenger couldn't keep his legs from collapsing. He buried his face between his paws and sobbed. Claytor smiled a little. He didn't know any of these people, but he could understand the joy they were feeling this moment. They'd been away from home for too long.

The other messengers from December took to the galloped up the slopes. Few took to the skies. The rest, seemingly afraid of drawing attention from the hidden ape scouts who were surely keeping their eyes on Eyria either did as Nuodai and stood in place, dumbstruck, or rushed down to the entrance, happy to be home at last.

Claytor rotated and glanced down at the caravan following. He waved his wing at them. "We're here!" he said. "It's just down the hill!"

He heard various sounds from his knights, who either cried out in joy or gave great sighs of relief. The Vinetar noticed Spyro looking up at him from the very rear. He raised his head and, grinning at the older dragon, spat a bright orb of fire above him.

Spyro didn't have to say anything and yet Claytor immediately understood the meaning behind his gesture. I know, and I'm glad. You did a good job on this flight!

Claytor didn't feel much enthusiasm to empathize with Spyro or the other knights and celebrate their arrival. This was his first time commanding a retinue of Warfang knights, and the fact there'd been deaths and casualties last night was a massive blow to his confidence. He couldn't stop thinking how they all would've died if it weren't for Bianca or Spyro. The Talonpoint Knight was so absorbed in his thoughts that he never realized he'd descended down the hill until they were close to the entrance.

A stone archway awaited them, prominently displaying the name of the village in runescript. It was a clear indication that, in times of peace and order, merchants and the occasional traveler frequented Eyria the most. Claytor supposed the entrance would've framed the village square and the other buildings that had been carved right out of the cliffside, had it not been shut tight with a gate made using logs of pine lumber. The long icicles extending down the arch would make it difficult for any dragon to fly through it without bending in uncomfortable positions mid-flight.

"Hey!" Altai trilled. "Anyone there?" She gathered ice in her snout and spat it at a crass-looking bell beside the gate. It clanged loudly, alerting all to the people gathering by the gate.

Claytor assessed her curiously. "Why don't you just fly inside?" he asked. "Your nest is here."

The messenger glared at him, "Because it's rude, and we don't want to panic the villagers inside. Dragons only fly in unannounced in cases of emergency."

Nuodai spoke beside her, adding, "Wasn't it the same in Warfang and Uzali? People can't just fly over the walls whenever they want to."

Claytor didn't reply, simply acknowledging his point with a grunt.

"Ancestors, why are they flying so slow today?" Altai grumbled before spewing another iceball at the bell.

They heard wingbeats from the other side. An ice dragon rose into the air. With a chunky snout, he was large for an adult and well-built, his muscles no less prominent than the thick leathers covering his body. "Who goes there?" he roared, touching down on the archway. He folded his wings and postured aggressively above them, his striated underbelly marred with what looked like recent scars. "How dare you ring the bell!" He scolded with a clear and deep voice. "Those aren't toys for you younglings to"—he suddenly gasped, frills twitching as soon as his eyes focused on the dragoness waving her wings at him—"Alona's mercy! Altai, you're back!"

"Clear skies, Kalen!" Altai greeted, her smirk turning into a wide grin. "Yes, I've returned smooth and whole." She gestured to the other messengers. "All of us have. It's good to see you again."

"Steady winds," the village guard responded promptly. He sat on his haunches, having relaxed at seeing the familiar snouts. "I'm of the same mind. Eyria has been worried about you since we sent your lounge south. Elder Ophelia and Uncle Jayce will be happy to have you back." Then his eyes fell on Claytor. The fact he had yet to catch a glimpse of Spyro behind the wagons was easily obvious. "And these knights… are they…?"

Claytor tapped Altai's hind paw. "My turn to speak, Little Wing," he told her, padding forward.

"Clear skies and steady winds to you!" the armored dragon began. "I am Vinetar Claytor of Talonpoint Keep! My vintaine and I have come to provide relief goods and expert reinforcements to quell the ape menace here."

"The supplies will be very much appreciated, Vinetar," Kalen replied. "Eyria—rather, all of December—needs as much help as possible. It's nearly impossible to sustain our villages with the apes hiding in the forests." He frowned when he skimmed the group. "But… a vintaine? Isn't this too few?" The village guard stared at Altai and Nuodai, who stood in front together with Claytor as de facto leaders of their group. "Didn't we ask for a centaine?"

Claytor raised a forepaw to the breast and said, "It was deemed prudent for a small number of Warfang's best to come and provide support first. A forward operation, if you will." It was how the high-flyers described the overall plan, he recalled. "We can discuss this matter later with your leaders once we've properly settled inside."

Nuodai broke decorum and growled, "Let us in already, Kalen!" He gave his wings a strong flap for emphasis. "We haven't gotten an opportunity to sleep since we were ambushed last night!"

"You were ambushed?" The guard exclaimed with a gasp. "You sure you weren't followed?" Kalen turned and barked at someone Claytor couldn't see. "Hey! Go and fetch Uncle Jayce! We'll need his tracking"—he glanced at the caravan for a moment and immediately blanched.—"W-w-wait! F-fasten your wings!"

"I said fasten your wings!" Kalen yelled at whoever was on the other side before rounding on all three dragons standing at the head of the caravan. Claytor realized he was not gazing at them so much as he was staring—gawking at something behind them.

"N-no way! By, b-by Azeroth the Infinite, that's… t-that's—!"

At someone who was probably coming up to them this very second.

Naturally, it had been Spyro himself, ambling to the vanguard with a pair of steeled but tired eyes. He cast a quick look at the flummoxed villager before turning to Claytor. "Sir Claytor, is there a problem? Why aren't they letting us in?"

Claytor flicked a wing at the chunky ice dragon above. "Security check, I suppose."

"Really?" Spyro frowned. Claytor studied the way he carried himself. The way his tail twitched and the frequency by which his jaws quivered suggested he was drowsy and doing everything he could not to yawn when so many eyes were on him.

"Hey!" Claytor yelled at Kalen, letting a little bit of his ire leak into his voice. "Can't you see we have Lord Spyro with us? We're not pulling your tail, sir. It's the Savior himself! Now stop flying like you're lost in the clouds and LET US IN!" He stomped the snow with a pulse of earth mana. The ground shuddered.

Kalen moved, prompted by either Claytor's forceful demand or Spyro's chafed expression. He shouted at his fellow guards on the other side to open the gate—and quickly—before launching himself into the air with a strong beat of his wings. The ice dragon landed before the four dragons, putting a big dent on the compacted snow.

Up close, he bore a very slight resemblance to Master Cyril, the Guardian of Ice. Claytor didn't really think about it so much, and neither did Spyro, as Kalen immediately genuflected before the Purple Dragon. He laid on his belly, forepaws together, and presented his neck. It made a comical sight, seeing an adult dragon act this way. A dragon of Claytor's age, too. "F-forgive me, Your Grace! I was a foolish reptile; I didn't realize the Savior himself was part of the lounge! I was simply making sure Eyria's secure and apes aren't waiting just over the hill—

The display had Spyro backpedaling. "It's fine, it's fine!" He said, rearing up and shifted a few paces back. "Ground yourself, sir. I understand the security."

Kalen let out a sigh of relief. He then rose to his feet and panned the new arrivals. "I'll make up for this treatment, Your Grace," he said. "I have your neck." Had Claytor been in better spirits, a smirk would have formed on his muzzle at the guard's behavior.

The wooden gates creaked open. Slabs of tree logs wrapped side by side in twine, ice, and stone. Atlawa and snow leopards pushed the gates open, with a few ice dragons observing them from a distance. All were clad in thick, leather armor lined with furs from nearby wildlife.

"Gate's open, Vinetar Claytor," the village guard said to the Talonpoint Knight, making sure to give a deep, contrite bow. "I shan't trouble you any longer. Go ahead and bring your people inside. My fellows will make sure you all get sorted out properly."

"Thank you," the Vinetar said.

Altai huffed before he could say anything else. "You know, Kalen, you should've just let us in from the start. You didn't have to trap us in your turbulence!"

Kalen snorted, visibly agitated. "Altai… you… you knew Lord Spyro was with you! Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Another voice suddenly chimed in from the distance, catching everyone by surprise. It came from inside the village. "Because you're cautious to a fault and you needed to be taught a lesson."

Altai perked at the voice. Her muzzle whipped in its direction, as did Claytor. He saw an old dragoness plodding towards the caravan, giving wordless greetings to the other guards. The subtle gestures they made in response didn't go unnoticed. Claytor concluded that they may as well have been a tacit approval to assist the newcomers. Her snout broke into a smile that went from end to end before she finally let out a yelp of joy and rushed to the old reptile. "Mama! Mama!"

Altai flung herself on her mother and nuzzled her breast affectionately. She buried her snout in her scales and rubbed her head on them multiple times over and over, taking in her scent. Claytor watched the adolescent whine and cry indecipherably like a hatchling. "I missed you too, Little Wing," the elder said, nuzzling the smaller dragon in return. "Welcome back."

Kalen shuffled towards mother and child. "Forgive me, Elder Ophelia." He growled and bowed his head. "I can't help being cautious whenever people come to our gates. We live in very difficult times."

"Cautiousness does not mean we show disgracefulness," Ophelia scolded him. "Or inattention. Even if Lord Spyro was not a part of the caravan, you should've recognized they're from Warfang itself, not Uzali! There are signs everywhere—the quality of their armors, the signage on their wagons, the disciplined manner they've been carrying themselves—any of those would've supported this conclusion. Moreover, they're being led by someone who's clearly a knight of Talonpoint Keep! You practically shamed us all."

"I'm sorry, Elder…"

Altai's mother flapped her wings. "Raise your head, Kalen. I'll take care of our esteemed guests. You go and assist the other guards." She eyed the group behind Nuodai, Claytor, and Spyro. "We'll want everyone resting in their own accommodations before the sun goes down."

"Understood, Elder. I'll take flight right away."

After Kalen left their group, Nuodai asked, "What about us, Elder Ophelia?"

The old dragoness gave the group a warm smile. She stepped to the side, revealing the depths of the village. Her thin body framed the large stone structure in the very back of the village, towering above it. It resembled a temple, of sorts. "Welcome back, Nuodai. You and the other heirs can return to the rooms we gave you before."

"Lifebringer thank you, Elder!" the adolescent said before he called upon the other messengers—fellow heirs from other villages in the region—to follow him inside.

Leaving Spyro and Claytor with Ophelia… not counting Altai, who had remained clinging to her mother as though she'd regressed into a whelp.

The sides of the elder's muzzle curled into the softest, warmest smile Claytor had ever seen from a dragoness who wasn't his mother. "Valorem's tail," she said, sighing. "That wasn't exactly the reception I would've wanted for the most important visitors we've had in decades, but Kalen was right about one thing. We are living in difficult times and"—Ophelia noticed the injuries sported by members of Claytor's vintaine—"it's apparent you recently came across the reason why. But we can discuss the profile of the landscape later. In the meantime…"

She gazed at both Spyro and Claytor and held her eyes straight. "Your Grace, Sir Knight… welcome to the village of Eyria."

.

.

.

After assuring Claytor that Eyria would tend to their wounded and provide warm housing for his vintaine, Elder Ophelia led him and Spyro through the village.

The layout was straightforward. Ensconced by steep walls on three sides, Eyria was nestled in a canyon that rose to the sky, its slanted peak facing away and towards the treacherous cliffs December was known for. Ophelia assured Spyro that there was little risk of the village being buried in a crushing pile of ice and snow, when he pointed out the possibility.

Traversing past the village gates and its border walls—which Claytor noted was supported with slabs of stone from behind—there was an empty clearing that stood between those and the villagers' homes. "We're actually walking over an ice bridge," she explained. "There's a deep crevasse beneath all this. However, centuries of snowfall mean it's naturally sturdy—incredibly stable, even. But with our ice magic, it's one of the few defenses we have against invaders."

"I bet it'd be interesting to fly down there and see how deep it really is!" Altai added. "But Mama says Eyria hasn't opened up the crevasse in centuries."

"Millennia, actually," Ophelia corrected. "We were fortunate that neither King Gaul nor the Dark Master showed much interest in December during the Great War." Her eyes lingered on Spyro. "Otherwise, we might have borne witness to Lady Cynder as the Terror of the Skies like the rest of the continent."

Spyro glared at her. "She's not the same dragon as before, Elder Ophelia."

"I'm aware, Lord Spyro." She smiled down at him. "I have nothing against her. Though I'm merely pointing out that we would've had certain… biases had that occurred."

Her daughter whipped her snout at the great hero. "That's right, Your Grace!" She interjected. "A lot of people down south hate Lady Cynder! It's not fair. She's such a nice dragon."

Claytor heard Spyro sigh. "I know. The past four years have been hard on her. I've had my snout to the ailerons helping Cyn as much as I could, but… people can't let go of their grudge. They only see what they want to see."

Claytor stayed quiet. Don't you realize you're doing the same thing to Joshua? He thought to himself.

"Never lose hope," advised Ophelia. "Prejudices can be overcome. They will be overcome if given enough time."

"It's been four years…"

"Merely a short flight in our lifespan, Your Grace. Don't forget, dragons live to be about four hundred." The elder dragoness beamed down at him once again, a twinkle in her eyes. She lifted a forepaw and caressed his withers once. A motherly gesture. "Nothing in this world can withstand time."

Spyro sniffled. "Kind words, Elder Ophelia. Thank you."

"You're very welcome." Ophelia then put a foreclaw to her chest. "Still, if anything, we should be thanking you. We stand to survive December's latest crisis with you flying by our side."

Spyro winced. "N-no need to be so formal now—

"Get used to it," trilled Altai. "You're the Purple Dragon! The Savior! Mama and all the other elders—Chief Gileao, even!—will treat you like that the entire time you're here."

He groaned.

"Vinetar Claytor," Ophelia began, "Since you're aware of our current predicament, I was shocked when I saw how few you were. Why?"

Why did Warfang just send a vintaine? Why not a larger force?

Claytor did not miss her unspoken questions. "I'll fly straight with you, Elder. The description that your"—he couldn't help but look at Altai, who had her mother's tail in her jaws.—"err, messengers, gave Lady Cynder last cycle failed to convey the seriousness of your situation here."

Ophelia was unperturbed, apparently accustomed to her daughter's habits. "What do you mean?"

"Based on the information provided, Councilor Tuconsis and Master Terrador concluded that the apes terrorizing December are most probably bandits—a few groups, specifically—who refused to live in exile in Blackstone Mountains. So it was decided that—

"Bandits?" Ophelia scrunched her snout. "That doesn't make sense. From the point of takeoff, last cycle we already had hamlets ransacked and smaller villages cordoned off in a battle of attrition. This turbulence became a storm while Altai and the other heirs were flying to Warfang! Those primates destroyed—annihilated the village of Mishkan and they've even put Pystis on the verge of imploding from all the refugees who've taken shelter there. Mother of Knowledge, that's not the work of mere bandits!"

She ended her words with stomping paws and a sudden drop in temperature as her ice magic reacted to her anger. Claytor tried to placate, "Elder, please ground yourself. I am merely explaining our leaders' decision." Ophelia attempted to shoot back with a response, so the knight had to raise his voice. "Flight plan as a whole," he said, "Warfang would send a forward group to December with some relief goods—that's my vintaine. We'll provide a bit of support and profile the landscape."

Claytor pointed to the wind dragon being escorted to a stone hut behind the village square, where a large pyre was being maintained. He recognized Akash from the bandage over his wing. Akash was following two pairs of atlawa who were carrying his fellow orator on a stretcher. "See them, Elder? They're Skylands orators. They have no problems flying here and they can easily relay any information we have down to the centaines that will have arrived in Uzali by the end of the week."

"The end of the week!" Ophelia exclaimed. "Vinetar Claytor, we don't have that kind of time. December might be fully overrun by then."

Altai fully agreed with her mother. "Mama's right, Sir Claytor! We'll still have to wait another week for the centaine to climb up here. We can't wait a whole two weeks!"

The Vinetar looked at Altai and then her mother in the eyes, grimacing. "To tell you the truth, I completely agree with you." He gestured to the casualties being carried or assisted by the village guards to their respective accommodations. "As you've deduced, we were ambushed last night by a small army of apes large enough to have been Ape Fighters and Ape Commanders during the Great War. They were uncharacteristically organized—tactical. Their equipment, imbued with enchantments like my own armor. The whole operation was being led by a yeti"—Ophelia gasped at the news like Altai before her—"who possessed artifacts that allowed him to fight head-to-head with Lord Spyro!"

Claytor glanced over at Spyro, who'd been following him just listening to their conversation. The Purple Dragon noticed his gaze and smiled. "Honestly, my vintaine would've perished if it weren't for His Grace and this traveling rabbit sorceress we met in Uzali—

"Bianca."

To his surprise, it was Ophelia who verbalized the witch's name, not Altai.

Spyro curiously asked, "You know Sorceress Bianca?"

"Many villagers do, Your Grace," Ophelia answered. "Bianca's been a frequent visitor for years. She's—

Altai relinquished her mother's tail. "Really, Mama? If so many people know Miss Bianca, how come I've never heard of her?" She asked while tilting her head in confusion. "I'd bet my horns Selema would've known about her and she never mentioned anything to me."

Ophelia coiled her neck to meet her daughter's staring eyes. "That's because Bianca only comes and goes at night," she explained. She directed her snout at a large, three-story hut standing close to where the ice bridge met the village square. "She always stays in that room"—the only one on the third floor that had a window facing the square—"and never leaves the inn."

Claytor felt a chill travel down his tail. He glanced at Spyro. "Lord Spyro, I know you're friends with Sorceress Bianca but that sounds a bit… uhm…"

"Eccentric," said Spyro.

Altai remarked, "Creepy."

Spyro gave her a flat stare. "She's a witch, Altai. She gave off the same air when she came to Warfang three years ago."

"B-but, Your Grace! I—that's not an—you can't just dismiss it like that!" Altai gaped at the great hero. "I never knew Miss Bianca could even act that way! She seemed"—she paused in her words, thinking of what to say—"...decent as a traveling companion, if a little condescending."

A little? Claytor nearly scoffed. That was putting it lightly.

"She is a bit arrogant," Spyro replied, "But she's actually fine once you fly with her long enough."

Ophelia gave her wings a quick flap. "I hope you're correct, Lord Spyro. Bianca has always been reticent in her affairs. According to the innkeeper, she never went out of her way to befriend anyone in Eyria."

Claytor's curiosity had been poking his scales for so long, he couldn't help asking, "Elder Ophelia, what sort of business did Sorceress Bianca have with the village?" He grimaced. "Forgive me for saying this, but Eyria isn't… err…"

Ophelia snorted. "Come now, Vinetar, we aren't in court. You don't have to treat me like the high-flyers you meet in the City of Dragons! It's perfectly fine to say Eyria doesn't have much to offer compared to all the other cities down south."

"Uhhh, duly noted, Elder."

"Good. And to answer your question, Bianca does quite a bit of trading whenever she's visiting Eyria, but only through the innkeeper since she prefers to keep people many wings apart. Her offerings are always welcome here—they're usually fruits, vegetables, spices, and other materials found only in Devil's Reach."

"Devil's Reach?" Claytor echoed with intrigue in his voice. "You're pulling my tail!"

Altai laughed when she saw Claytor's snout. "I said the same thing when Mama told me there are ingredients we can get from there years ago!"

Ophelia said, "And I'll say the same thing I told her: I'm not. You'll be surprised at how tasty some of those are, after a bit of preparation. It's amazing." She tittered while briefly tucking the tips of her wing under her jaw like some bipeds did with their hands. "Heh, I surmise the bears are jealous of Bianca. She's practically got a monopoly all to herself. The magicians of Castle Shadowstone rarely travel, and they usually employ portals when they do."

Her words sounded some alarms in Claytor's head. It seemed as though Sorceress Bianca had reasons for visiting Eyria. Reasons that had nothing to do with trade.

Altai, however, was the one to breach the topic. "Mama," she said, glancing askance at her mother, "If the other mages are like that, then… why does Bianca visit Eyria?" The adolescent raised her hind legs and scratched behind her head. "Why… doesn't she fly with us when she's here? She sounds like she'd be welcome in our village." Her expression faltered. "Selema would've liked her…"

Ophelia let out a grunt. "Who knows? Praise Azeroth that witch never bothered to fly and mingle with us. It was easy to suppress news about her."

"That's why we never knew about her? Why? Just because she's a bit of a shut-in—

"Altai, though her commercial activities here are a boon to our hoards, it does not imply that she didn't have ulterior motives coming here."

Altai whimpered. "Does that mean—

"Of course!" Ophelia said. "Neither I nor Aurona would've allowed Sorceress Bianca anywhere near you and Selema. Chief Gileao would've also put her under surveillance."

With his tail twitching from agitation, Spyro couldn't help but comment, "That sounds unnecessarily harsh, Elder. Bianca's not like that at all. It isn't obvious, but she's actually a little shy."

"Forgive me for saying this, Your Grace, but the mages of Castle Shadowstone are not normal," Ophelia rejoined in a warning tone. "Even if we were wrong about her motives, she is still a witch from that place. I'd never entrust my hatchlings to anyone like that. Never!"

Altai looked horrified. "But Mama! You've never even met her! You don't know anything about Miss Bianca!" Then she growled. "Lord Spyro and Sir Claytor haven't even told you how she sacrificed herself to let us escape last night and you're judging her already? Because she's a Magus?"

Claytor watched surprise appear on Ophelia's muzzle. "Sacrificed herself?" she murmured. Then she turned to Claytor and Spyro. "Explain."

It didn't take more than a minute to explain what had happened. Spyro gave Ophelia a truncated version of the events that led to the rabbit's sacrifice, concluding with a request to have the village healer alert in the next morning.

"...because I expect she'll be arriving here by tomorrow at the latest."

Ophelia said nothing at first, contemplating Spyro's tale in silence. "I'll admit, I… I may have to reevaluate my assessment of Bianca."

"See!" Altai crooned. "See! Maybe she's strange because of what she does, but that's it. Maybe she is a little shy just as Lord Spyro said! If that's the case, then we should just welcome her the next time she visits." The dragoness grinned. "I'll drag her out of that inn myself if I have to!"

Altai's outburst had Claytor smiling. She and Lord Spyro were probably right, he thought. The dragon knight had his own suspicions towards the witch until last night and those were eventually resolved. Ophelia's fears would no doubt be proven meritless in the end.

"So where are you taking us now, Elder?" Claytor asked. By this point, they had crossed the village square. The travelers' inn was a bit of a walk now and they were on a path that led them to a row of what were clearly the largest homes in Eyria, but even the stone-and-wood houses paled in comparison to the large, if monolithic, structure carved right out of the canyon walls beside them. It rose above the other homes and emanated an ancient and wizened air.

"Your accommodations are in the village temple, Sir Claytor," Ophelia replied, pointing her snout at the stone structure ahead. "The other heirs and their families occupy the other rooms, but as our esteemed guests, you and Lord Spyro will be given the most luxurious rooms our little village can provide."

"T-thank you. You don't really have to do any of that, though…"

"Yes," Spyro concurred. "You don't."

"Indeed," Ophelia said. "Yet it is the appropriate thing to do given your status."

Spyro did not reply. He even had what looked like an expression of resignation on his face.

Altai slowed down and let herself stroll at Spyro and Claytor's pace. "That's my house over there," she said, gesturing to the third largest home on the street. It was about two homes away from the village temple. Claytor was surprised. Strewn about the front door were what looked like a large biped's belongings. He wouldn't have expected Ophelia and Altai to be living there had it not been for the latter's notice. "Mmmm… I can't wait to lie down on my cushion again! It's been so long…"

Claytor was about to suggest that she break away from their group and fling herself at the comforts of her own home when the door swung open from the inside, drawing attention from all four dragons. Then, to his complete, utter astonishment, a Commander-type ape sauntered into view.

The ape had just picked up two long scabbards leaning by the door and swung them onto his back when Claytor finally processed he was seeing an actual ape—an enemy—in the very heart of their safe haven. "Ancestors, an ape! E-Elder Ophelia, there's an ape in your house!"

While caught by surprise, Spyro reacted quickly and lowered his stance, readying a powerful charge. "Elder, get behind us. Sir Claytor and I will—ALTAI!"

Altai had reacted quicker than the tired hero and rushed forward. She darted ahead as fast as she possibly could, paws slamming on the snow-covered ground. She sprung with every stride, covering so much distance that Claytor believed her ice mana was boosting her speed.

"Altai!" Claytor cried. The ape had noticed her now. It jumped off the porch, skipping the wooden steps. It faced her, spread its arms wide open. A manic grin filled the primate's face, probably readying to draw its swords and shed blood. "Get back here! It's not safe! He'll—

It was too late. The adolescent flapped her wings and leaped to the air, hurling herself at the Commander-type with forepaws outstretched. Instead of screeches or snarls, two words gushed out of Altai's maw. "UNCLE JAYCE!"

Claytor and Spyro were not prepared to see a fully-grown ape catch a dragon as high as his waist, wrapping his furry, muscular arms around Altai's flanks.

Neither were they prepared to see their enemy tumble down together with Altai, rolling thrice on the snow before…

...before nuzzling the dragoness's snout with his own, laughing with joy. Altai booped the ape once and happily licked his face. "You're back!" the ape cried. "Finally! We were so worried about you!"

Ophelia's chuckling put an end to Claytor's and Spyro's confusion. "Ground yourselves," she said. "Jayce has nothing to do with all the other monkeys invading December."

Both Spyro and Claytor reacted simultaneously.

"W-what do you mean?"

"He's… not an enemy?"

Ophelia changed direction and calmly led the two Warfang dragons to her own home. "He's been living with me and Altai for over a decade now. Twelve years, if I'm counting correctly."

As soon as Claytor heard the number, his mind began to work. The War ended four years ago. The tyranny of the apes ended with King Gaul's demise three years before that, not long after Master Ignitus discovered young Spyro near the swamps that once occupied the Burned Land. That meant he…

"He must've been part of Gaul's army before."

"Correct, Sir Claytor." Ophelia acknowledged as they finally came upon the ape, who was still play-wrestling with Altai in the snow. "He's actually a deserter from the Mountain of Malefor. His name is Jayce Bladelizard. But in December, nearly everybody calls him Uncle Jayce."

"Ophelia!" The primate protested, squeezing his head out from under Altai's azure scales just to glare at her. "Did you have to say that? I don't care if it's been ten years or twenty years! My past work isn't something you should repeat every time some traveler loses their minds the first time they see me!"

Altai swung her neck towards Jayce and shoved her snout on his cheek, her tail swishing happily on the snow. "Aww, don't get annoyed at Mama, Uncle Jayce! She has a good reason this time! These people came from Warfang. They aren't just 'some travelers'!"

Altai's affections had Claytor thinking he was more of a father figure to the adolescent hen, which was honestly more baffling to him. As a younger, less experienced drake, the Talonpoint knight had fought against apes before. They were vicious. Savage. They harbored no love for the other sapients, and they had an especially intense hatred for dragonkind. He'd never heard of even an exception to the rule. It was inconceivable! And yet… that's exactly what he was seeing.

Jayce perked at Altai's tone and finally looked at the two dragons accompanying her mother. His eyes dilated as soon as he recognized them—recognized the one dragon who singlehandedly stopped his former king. "T-The Purple Dragon!" He let out an undignified hiss and brought his paws beneath the dragoness sprawled on top of him. "Altai! Get off, get off!"

Altai rolled over with a giggle and sat on her haunches, watching the ape get on his feet and rise to his full height. He patted away the snow clinging on his fur and clothing before grinning awkwardly at them. "O-Ophelia, you didn't mention you had a, a special high-flyer tailing you."

"Oh? You didn't notice them?" the elder jabbered with a coyish tone. "That doesn't sound like you, Jayce. Weren't you the one who brought my niece to Pystis after the Dark Army conquered Uzali?"

"That's—

"And you've been one of our trackers for years," Ophelia said while padding over to the ape. Spyro fidgeted in silence while he and Claytor watched the village elder tenderly rub her snout on him like they would a dear friend, a family member, or a loved one. "Accept it, dear. Either you're slipping or…"

"Or I wasn't paying attention at all." He scratched his head, embarrassed. "Sorry, Altai distracted me."

"I was just teasing you." Ophelia smirked. "Don't worry about it."

Altai reared up and clung to Jayce. "Yeah, Uncle Jayce! Don't worry, you're not that old yet."

Ophelia veered towards her two visitors. "As you can see, Lord Spyro," she said, addressing Spyro, "Whoever Jayce was during the war, he belongs with us now. He's our ape as much as we're his dragons."

Jayce jumped when Ophelia's tail whipped the back of his leg. "Sorry, I couldn't help staring," he apologized to her before clearing his throat, facing Spyro and Claytor, and giving them a respectful bow. "It's a great pleasure to meet you, sirs, and clear skies to you both. Jayce Bladelizard, at your service."

Looking at them now, Claytor realized how Jayce compared to the commander-types. He was bigger than the average fighter-type, sure, but not so much that he reminded the knight of the humongous bastards that laid waste to their earthen barriers last night.

Studying the ape, he realized that he truly belonged here, as Ophelia said. His tunics matched the patterns and make of those worn by the other bipeds in Eyria. Claytor needed only a single glance at the house Jayce just emerged from to see what were clearly the ape's belongings arranged neatly about the porch. To finish it all off, Jayce himself was relaxed in his and Spyro's presence. Though he was still shivering slightly from nervousness, he had his furry arms wrapped around mother and daughter rather than the twin swords on his back.

Claytor decided to pay his respects. After all, he didn't know how much influence Jayce had in the village after living here for so long. "Steady winds, Jayce. I am Sir Claytor of Talonpoint Keep." He flicked a wing in Spyro's direction to introduce the young dragon, "And beside me stands Lord Spyro, Savior of the Dragon Realms and beloved Hero of the Great War."

In reality, however, Claytor had only gotten as far as saying Spyro's name when the hero himself suddenly broke decorum and plodded forward with a straight posture. His tail was stiff from tension, eyes transfixed on Jayce. Claytor noticed Spyro was taking shallow and rapid breaths, his expression uncertain. Claytor couldn't read him.

"Your Grace?" he tested.

Spyro raised a forepaw in response without peering in his direction then continued to close the distance. Remembering how Spyro acted towards Joshua nowadays, Claytor braced himself for baseless accusations to fly out of his snout, or, Ancestors forbid, for a fight to break out.

Jayce felt the tension in the atmosphere and flinched as the snow crackled sharply beneath Spyro's paws. "I-is everything alright, Spyro?" he diffidently asked.

If Claytor hadn't known about Spyro's history with Joshua or if Spyro didn't approach Jayce with disquiet in each step, the sight would've been laughable considering how the chagrined primate was still taller than him by a couple heads, being somewhere between an ape fighter and an ape commander. Even Altai seemed to sense the unease emanating from the Savior, for Claytor noticed the way she tightened her forepaws and anxiously clutched the fringes of Jayce's fur cloak.

Taciturn, Spyro ambulated to a forepaw's distance and sat on his haunches. He glowered at Jayce, no less inscrutable like the skies on a cloudy day. What was he going to do next? What was he even thinking? He'd never seen him act this way before. Claytor had actually expected the Savior to try and do something to Jayce—and unlike Joshua, he was an actual ape!

The few seconds that had lapsed felt terrible. Ophelia switched from a confident, nonchalant posture to a more apprehensive one. Even she was a little nervous now, having been caught by some unexpected turbulence.

Then the great hero, wetting his lips, spoke with a dour voice, "So, you used to be part of the Dark Army?"

"I was their head of the Death Hound Division," Jayce confirmed, trying to keep his voice steady. "At the main stronghold in the Well of"—he quickly corrected himself—"in the Mountain of Malefor."

Spyro's throat rumbled with a low, barely audible growl. Claytor couldn't figure out what it meant. "Deep in the dungeons, I'm guessing? Then how'd you end up this far north? It sounded like you had a safe post, far from the front lines…"

Where Gaul would've eventually sent him to die by Spyro's teeth and claws after the hero attacked the Mountain of Malefor during the Eternal Night to rescue Cynder.

The notion so implied did not escape Jayce's notice. He was silent, if hesitant. "I… Spyro—Lord Spyro, I don't know if I should answer that."

"Why not?" Spyro pressed.

"That's because—ah!" Jayce was interrupted by Ophelia gently and slowly running her tongue up his cheek. He recoiled from the action and pivoted towards the hen. "Not the right time, Ophelia… What is it?"

"You can tell him," the dragoness advised. "Lord Spyro surely isn't the type to beat the wind and judge someone by their first flight."

The Purple Dragon seemed to squirm at her comments, but his expression was as stone. "You know something, Elder?"

"Altai and I know his story by heart," she answered. "But it's his story to tell."

Spyro again questioned Jayce, "I don't understand you. How did you get here? Elder Ophelia said you deserted the Dark Army. Why?"

Jayce sighed. He turned away from Spyro's eyes and opted for the cool, comforting touch of Altai's flews. "It's a long story, but it began nineteen years ago when King Gaul ordered us to strike the Swamp Temple and thoroughly smash all the eggs there. Especially a purple one, if we ever saw it."

The hidden turbulence around them became a storm. Spyro must have realized Jayce was one of the apes that obliterated nearly an entire generation of young dragons while looking for him. The very group that not only denied him a normal childhood but also deprived him of many possible friends the same age and crumbled the hopes of the many parents who had no desire to participate in the war and simply wished to live normal, happy lives.

His tail couldn't be any stiffer than it was now. All four of his paws clenched the snow between their claws. The fact Spyro had done nothing after the revelation both impressed and confused Claytor since he'd been harassing Joshua for less. "Continue," he commanded.

Jayce didn't need to be told to go on. "Being told to slaughter unborn children didn't sit well with me," he continued sullenly. "It still doesn't." Though it'd happened over ten years ago, it was clearly a memory he would rather leave in the past. "The others were thrilled to go on a rampage and destroy every single egg they could find. Nothing could stop them—stop us. The Guardians and the defenders couldn't hold us back when we outnumbered them all thirty to one."

He swallowed. "I did my part, sure. I must've slammed at least twenty eggs that night. I was trying so hard not to vomit at the sight and risk being lynched by everybody right there like the unhatched whelps we were murdering."

Having never thought how things must've looked from the apes' side of the conflict, Claytor asked out of curiosity, "They would do that? Nobody would defend you?"

"They would," Jayce replied matter-of-factly. "Raden, my best friend, would have been the first to plunge his sword in my neck. Everybody hated dragons. To them, they were monsters. Selfish, greedy, and bestial monsters to eradicate from the face of the Realms."

Altai whined a little when he said that, prompting the primate to caress the adolescent's snout. "Come on, Altai. You've heard this story many times before."

"It still makes me sad, Uncle Jayce."

"I know, dear, I know." Jayce offered the young dragoness a small but genuine smile before resuming his explanation. "I used to believe that myself," he admitted. "It's why I joined Gaul's army. It's just that, I expected to fight dragons like you, Sir Claytor." He gestured at him. "Taller than me, covered in armor, protected with hardened scales, trying to disembowel me with teeth, claws, and the very elements. I didn't join the cause to slaughter defenseless, helpless kids who'd done nothing but sleep in an egg."

Spyro snorted. "Yet you snuffed out over twenty lives yourself."

"I won't deny that Spy—I mean, Lord Spyro," Jayce responded, raising his arms. "With everybody around me squashing those eggs in a frenzy, I'd have been a fool to stand there and do nothing.

"It was only by luck that I had a chance to make things right, even if it was just for one dragon." Jayce paused, anticipating a reply as though all those who'd heard the story before reacted at this point. Spyro's silence reminded everyone that they were standing outside in the cold, but that was still tolerable and the ape continued to speak, "I found an egg just as we were leaving the Temple. A red one—looked like a ruby to me, I swear. Ophelia once told me it would've hatched a fire dragon."

"And?" The Savior pushed. "What? ...What did you do with it?"

"I was in the very back when I found it. By then every ape in the regiment was marching away from the Swamp Temple. I don't know how it got there, I don't know who placed it there, if it was possibly an attempt to hide it just before our army got there, but I had an opportunity to do the right thing.

"It was either I take it with me and raise the whelp or I give it a better hiding spot and leave it there," Jayce went on. "It took me a while to figure this out. I chose to hide it in the end. Luckily I was done by the time Raden came looking for me—

Claytor slapped his tail on the ground. "An ape raising a hatchling in the Mountain of Malefor? Preposterous! I know this was years ago, but that would've been—

"I probably would've named it Char," Jayce interrupted him. "Or Charla, if it was a sweet little girl like Altai here." The aforementioned dragoness nuzzled the ape at her mere mention.

Claytor couldn't reply back. That he'd gone as far as conceiving its name meant he'd seriously contemplated this decision. The thought of another dragon from Spyro's generation being raised in close proximity to Cynder made him shudder. There could've been two Terrors of the Skies during the war. It was unlikely given what Claytor could infer about Jayce's personality back in the day. He seemed much better than King Gaul—only a callous leader with a heart of stone would make the kinds of decisions he'd made during the war. Still, the mere possibility of what could have been had him quivering from fright.

"I still think about that egg from time to time, honestly," Jayce said, his gaze lingering on Spyro. "That whelp would be your age by now. I hope they're doing fine…"

"I, I can talk to the Guardians about it," the Purple Dragon remarked. "I can find out and have someone bring you the message. But you still haven't answered my question: why did you leave?"

An annoyed look crossed Jayce's muzzle for the first time, as though he thought Spyro's question was ridiculous. Claytor possessed much better discipline than someone who trained under a barbaric army, so his muzzle showed no reaction to either Spyro's question or Jayce's reaction. Even so, the knight could relate to the ape. It was easy to see the connection between the story he just told and his eventual desertion, so why was Spyro cross-examining him? By Alona, he just wanted this day to end and flop over on top of a soft futon.

To his credit, Jayce's expression swiftly became neutral. "Like I said before, Spy—Your Grace—I still think about Char until now. Back then? I couldn't stop thinking about it." He leaned on Ophelia and Altai, staring at the afternoon sky. The twin moons were both visible. "I obsessed over it for the next four years, and it didn't help that being a glorified houndkeeper at the Well of Souls gave me all the free time I needed to think—eventually realize that… that egg changed my life and I should've brought it home with me."

Jayce leveled his gaze with Spyro and stared down at him. "The next time I was assigned away from the base, the commanders ordered us to annihilate some city west of Concurrent Skies. Kill every last living dragon in there, and anyone allied with them. Not just the knights and city guard. Everybody—drakes, hens, hatchlings, eggs, even the lounges leaving it to Gintomyr and just flying for their lives."

"That's when you deserted the army," Claytor stated.

"No. The last pack that broke the dreadwing's back, as we used to say, was when I discovered Gaul with Cynder and our dragon expert by accident a year later—

Spyro cut him off, visibly relaxing as he said, "I'm sorry."

The sudden apology startled him. "...huh? W-What?"

"Ape—I-I mean, Jayce. You don't need to tell us how the entire flight went right here," Spyro clarified. His tail swept in all directions as though gesturing at them all. "It's cold outside, we're all tired, and we can't wait to get some rest. It's obvious Altai wants to have some time alone with you and Elder Ophelia, so you can tell us the details later." He let out a deep breath before smiling at the primate. It looked like an embarrassed one. "To be honest with you, I was just making sure there weren't any holes in your story."

Claytor subtly glanced over at Spyro and assessed him. Though calmer—much less tense than just now, he could vaguely hear the young hero mumbling to himself, still breathing shallowly. "…doesn't… same…" he barely heard him murmur when he strained his earholes.

What was Spyro looking for? Why did he appear so disturbed? Egeria's Wings, to think that he had actually referred to Jayce by name after only a few minutes of meeting him. Spyro had never done that with Joshua except on the extremely rare occasions he slipped—

Claytor's thought process was derailed by Jayce laughing in reply. "That's fine, Spyro—Lord Spyro!" he quickly added right as Altai squeezed his shoulders. "I don't mind. It took years before Eyria and December at large accepted me. I could go on for nights with all the stories…"

"He really could," Altai interjected. "Once you get him drunk enough on liquor."

"Hey!"

Altai licked the ape's cheek. She wasn't clutching him so tightly now that Spyro didn't look so hostile anymore. "Uncle Jayce, do you mind if I go inside the house? I haven't been back in my room for a whole cycle…"

"Go ahead, Little Wing," Jayce encouraged her. "You've earned it, bringing help from Warfang. Go, take some rest."

The dragoness reared up and gave Jayce another affectionate lick and nuzzle before trotting towards Ophelia's home, her tail lingering around the ape for as long as she could. "I love you, Uncle Jayce. Good to see you again."

Jayce Bladelizard smiled widely back. "Talk to you later, Altai!" he waved at her.

Ophelia took Altai's place and wrapped her wing—protectively, Claytor noted—around Jayce. "Is there anything else you wish to ask my ape, Your Grace?"

He looked up at the old hen and smiled. "Nothing comes to mind right now, Elder Ophelia." He yawned loudly. "Haaa… Alona's tail, I just want to get some sleep."

"Very well. The village temple is just a few pawsteps away, see?" Ophelia pointed her snout at the building they've been headed to the entire time. Then she turned and playfully nipped Jayce's ear. "Jayce, what about you? Running patrols again?"

"That can wait a few more minutes," Jayce said. He hugged the ice dragon—she was just a bit larger than he was—and took a deep breath, drawing comfort from her scent. "I'll probably never get the opportunity to talk to the Savior like this again. I believe Lord Spyro will be too busy for casual talk starting tomorrow."

Ophelia mutually embraced the ape. The two were definitely closer than friends. If it wasn't apparent, it was once Jayce joined his short muzzle with Ophelia's long snout for a couple of seconds with a loving smile on his face.

Claytor was shocked to see this, knowing Ophelia was at least a century old, maybe approaching her second. Although relationships between the sapient species were accepted in the Realms, they were uncommon and they rarely lasted into adulthood, since the call of biology—the duty to bring about the next generation—was naturally strong. Strong enough to overcome love in most cases, but not all of them.

These two were clearly one such example of the exception. That Ophelia was fine with an ape—looked beyond what their kind had done during the war—astonished Claytor even more than the fact she had entered into something typically only seen amongst younger people. Good for them, he thought somewhat jealously. Not many people were lucky enough to find a loving relationship like that, whether they flew the flight path as everyone else or veered off into new airspace.

The knight then shot a look at Spyro, who was biting his lip. His forepaws, clenching the snow. "Missing Lady Cynder?" he quietly asked.

"...Yes," he answered, to Claytor's surprise. It was the first time anyone had mentioned the other Savior's name in several days and had gotten something other than a frosty response from Spyro. Claytor was wondering what else to ask when Ophelia and Jayce finally separated.

Ophelia turned to face the two. "Come, follow me."

Meanwhile, Jayce fell in step beside them. Beside Spyro, to be specific. He growled lightly. "Brrr. It's a lot colder when I don't have Ophelia next to me."

Spyro replied diplomatically, still uncomfortable with the primate walking so close to him with two swords in easy reach, "I can imagine. It's only going to get even colder from here. I'm glad I'll be spending the night in a warm hut instead of an igloo."

Jayce glanced at the sky and smirked. "Be happy we're not having a blizzard tonight, Spyro." He gasped. "Oh, sorry! I meant Lord—

"You can call me Spyro," the hero dismissed. "It's fine. I prefer it that way."

Claytor asked, "How long have you and Elder Ophelia been together? Like that."

Jayce hummed. "Oh? About five years now, by my reckoning." He chuckled. "Time flies fast."

"Indeed."

"And hey, Spyro," Jayce said. He squatted down to be at eye level with the young dragon and locked eyes with him. Ophelia even stopped, choosing to watch her ape rather than urging the group along.

"W-what?" he asked, rearing back a little.

"For what it's worth, I'm glad you stopped the war. My kind were becoming too depraved by the year and the Realms were more a hellscape than the beautiful wonders they truly are. King Gaul got what he deserved, and the curse that the Dark Master placed on my… former comrades showed just how far we'd fallen. It's actually good that this 'Lord Caesar' who replaced him just wants to be left alone and rebuild." Jayce bowed deeply. "Thank you for helping the apes realize what kind of people we've become after generations of fighting."

"Y-you're, you're welcome?" Spyro responded with a stutter. Jayce had blindsided him with his heartfelt praise and he didn't know how to react. It wasn't everyday he heard praise from somebody who fought for the enemy.

"Did I surprise you?" Jayce stood up, beaming. "Heh, it's something I've been wanting to say ever since word of your accomplishments reached Eyria. Nothing to be embarrassed about. I've no doubt countless people in the Allied Territorios would shower you with their endless gratitude if they had the chance."

"Oh, that's an understatement," Spyro said, his muzzle cringing. Probably remembering the scene in Uzali, Claytor thought. "Some people really want to thank me."

Jayce picked up the hidden message. "Honestly, if it weren't for the crisis December is undergoing now, Eyria would've welcomed you similarly."

Spyro said nothing at this, although his annoyed mien clearly indicated what he was envisioning right now.

Jayce then took note of their surroundings. Claytor promptly mimicked him. They probably had another two minutes before they reached their destination. "By the way, there's something I want to ask you about."

"...What is it?" There was a nervous pitch in Spyro's voice, having just recovered from his stupor.

"Well, there's a bunch of rumors flying about the airstreams"—Ancestors, Claytor couldn't stop feeling amazed at Jayce's familiarity with dragonkind's figures of speech—"that a furless ape is staying in Warfang."

Spyro tensed. Claytor felt the ambient mana infused the air shift in tune with what must be his anxiety.

"The wind whispers say he's confined in the heart of the city and, for some reason, he's got elemental magic just like a dragon," Jayce went on.

"Did they"—Spyro paused—"Did they say anything about me?"

Claytor flapped his wings in slight surprise. He never expected Spyro to care about what other people thought about him.

He thought Jayce would verbalize this question himself, except the ape flew away from his expectations by directly answering the dragon. "A half-cycle ago, they were in favor of you. They described this 'furless ape'"—Claytor felt like he was punctuating the term with skepticism—"in horrifying ways. They painted him as a spy for Lord Caesar at best, and a servant of the Dark Master, at worst. He'd done terrible things at the gates of Warfang and magically twisted Cynder into protecting him, following his every bidding, while he hides in the Warfang temple and schemes his diabolical plan to destroy everything from the inside. Meanwhile, you, Spyro, are the only one who 'knows the truth' and are trying to get everyone to listen so they can finally execute the 'monster' and put his head on a spear for all to see."

"Whoa." Spyro's eyes lit up. He must've been impressed at how precise the wind whispers were. For a while, even the residents of Warfang would have said something almost identical to Jayce's narrative. Claytor was amazed himself. However, having guarded Joshua himself for a full red cycle, he knew that a lot of these whispers were dragon dung at their core. Anyone who bothered counter-checking these claims with the moles at the Office of the Keeper or the orator for the Warfang Council would be swiftly and definitively corrected.

"Don't be too quick to trust them, Spyro," lectured Jayce. "Up here in December, the airstreams are riddled with stale air. There's a delay of at least a half-cycle."

There were 41 days in a lunar cycle of the red moon. A half-cycle meant the rumors swirling in Eyria were no less than twenty days old.

"It took us about that long to reach here," said Spyro in understanding. Has anything changed?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact." Jayce looked up at Ophelia. They were a minute's walk away from the Eyria temple. "Ophelia, can you slow down a bit?"

Ophelia smirked at him. "Don't worry, dear. You can finish your talk with Lord Spyro in front of the temple, as long as you don't take too long. We wouldn't want the Purple Dragon to be exhausted during a meeting with Acting Chief Aurona."

"Understood," Jayce replied before resuming his conversation with the Savior, "And yes, the opinions have changed. News still reaches us from Uzali. A few brave souls still dare to travel up Icy Peak and help us however they can despite the ape situation here. According to the latest whispers, the… 'furless ape'—"

It was a bit surreal, hearing an ape talk about his own species in a passive voice like that. Moreover, the way he punctuated the term "furless ape" made it seem like the very concept of such an individual was completely foreign to him. Hearing that skeptical tone, Claytor decided to ask Jayce about the existence of so-called "human beings" as soon as he found a proper opening.

"—had been brought before a lounge of younglings and—this, this 'Joshua', was it?—he somehow helped them unleash their hidden potential. Ophelia and I even heard that Cynder and the Guardians met at a qawa house for a serious discussion about him."

"Went to Gavin's, huh…" Claytor heard Spyro mumble. "...and she never bothered to…"

Jayce continued uninterrupted. "Not only have they decided to turn Joshua into a teacher's assistant, but also a knight guarding him reported he had the ability to wield multiple elements. Just like you."

Spyro huffed. "So what are they saying about me now?"

"There's a lot of different interpretations flying around, but a few say that you're delusional." Jayce certainly wasn't one to hold back. "That you've been wrong this entire time, and you can't let go of the body blow Joshua gave you last cycle, so now you're looking for any and every opportunity to discredit him and put him back on death row."

Spyro was silent, yet Claytor noticed him gnashing his fangs, hissing, practically breathing hellfire as the idiom went.

"Some also say you've grown arrogant," Jayce continued to report. "Besting the Dark Master, literally defragmenting this world, and being Markazia's hero for the last four years made you cavalier—pretentious—turned you into a poser who orgasms from the way people react to the gilded wings you were hatched with. Who no longer has a shred of humility to even realize he made a mistake."

Spyro yelled, "They're wrong! It's not like that! It's not like that at all! They don't know—

"No need to shout, Spyro!" calmly retorted Jayce. "I actually don't think any of those claims are credible now that I've met you snout to snout. Most still idolize you, but you should know that opinions are shifting."

Spyro shut his eyes in frustration. "They really don't know anything… Tch. I shouldn't have asked."

A look of sympathy appeared on Jayce's face. An unusually fatherly expression. "Better to know what other people say about you than not… Your Grace. It doesn't matter whether you care about their opinions. It's something you'll have to manage given your status in Markazia."

"I never asked to be a hero…"

Jayce raised a hand to Spyro's withers. To pat his scales—to provide even a bit of comfort, only for the Purple Dragon to shrug him off with a testy lash of the wing. "Don't touch me," he said icily.

"Alright," the ape complied, backing off immediately. Claytor noted they were nearly at the village temple now. Then, he realized Jayce had been looking at him. Expectantly, it appeared to him. "Sir Claytor," Jayce asked, "You said you're from Talonpoint Keep, didn't you? Is the information about the furless ape true? What do you think about all this?"

Spyro glared nastily at Claytor as soon as the questions left Jayce's mouth. But he chose to say nothing. Claytor could only tell the truth at this point. Besides, he and Spyro could both agree that It would be far more preferable for the words of a Talonpoint knight to circulate throughout Markazia rather than the dragon dung they'd been hearing.

"Luckily for you," he began, "I'm a direct source. I was previously assigned guard duty over Joshua before I became Vinetar."

Jayce's eyes seemed to flash with glee. "Really! Please, in Egeria's name, enlighten me."

Claytor felt somewhat awkward hearing an ape speak just like a dragon, even invoking an Ancestor's name in his speech. It wasn't surprising since he'd been living with Ophelia and Altai for years, but it was still too bizarre.

Nonetheless, he shrugged off the weird feeling. "The initial rumors concerning the furless ape are dragon dung. In truth, Joshua behaves nothing like a typical individual of your species. He shows signs of a soft upbringing—opinionated, expects amenities normally not given to plebeians, and ill-experienced with any sort of hard labor. If you ask me, if he truly was a servant of the Dark Master or some malevolent force out there, he'd make for the worst one anybody has ever seen."

Jayce noted, "That sounds accurate. It also explains the goodwill he's being given lately. A lot of the wind whispers from last cycle are ringing false."

"The airstreams are correct about one thing, however," Claytor said. "Joshua does have the ability to command multiple elements."

His eyes widened. "You've seen this yourself?"

"I have. He can't produce the other elements on his own, but I've seen him manipulate Ice and Electricity at least once."

Jayce hummed to himself, deep in thought. Claytor could see the intrigue on his snout. "I wonder what this means for the Realms…"

"I wonder about that myself," Claytor said. Ophelia stopped in front and turned to face them. They had just arrived at the village temple.

Claytor noticed that the Elder Ophelia had fixed her eyes on Jayce. Sensing that she was about to send her ape off, he spoke first, "Elder, Lord Spyro, there's something I want to ask Jayce before we head inside. Is that fine?"

"And there's one last thing I wish to ask him as well," added Jayce.

"That's up to Lord Spyro," she deferred. "We have a little bit of time."

Spyro's eyes passed back and forth between Claytor and Jayce. He reluctantly yawned and, blinking, acquiesced. "Alright, I'll indulge you both, but let's get this done quickly, please."

"I'll fly first," said Claytor. "Jayce, I've noticed that you've been verbalizing the term 'furless ape' with a certain, err, questioning tone. Why?"

"Because there isn't such a thing," Jayce said with a firmer voice than expected. "I've never, ever heard of an ape with his features in my entire life. I've heard he's called a 'hoo-man', but the name itself is foreign to me."

"Don't you think it's possible he's a new variant, like Lord Caesar?" Claytor proposed. "Those have been showing up ever since the Saviors defeated the Dark Master—

"And undid the curse he put on most of my kind," Jayce finished for him. "I know about them, Sir Claytor, but they still identify as apes. I've engaged in group speculation over rounds of ale before—

"He enjoys riding the airstreams," Ophelia interjected with a smile on her muzzle.

Jayce shot Ophelia a glare, but he continued on with his theory as though she said nothing. "—and everything about him suggests this… hoo-man species is technologically advanced. That would only happen if their society had at least a hundred years to flourish in peace."

"Like Skylands," muttered Claytor. His expression darkened. While he said nothing else, he couldn't help but think about how the Skylands Empire hid itself during the war and abandoned the Realms.

Jayce Bladelizard took his silence as a cue to approach Spyro. "Spyro, there's something that's been bothering me ever since Ophelia introduced us."

"Okay, Jayce," he replied with a sigh. He appeared a bit grumpy from lack of sleep. "What is it?"

"Given what I've heard about you, you've been suspicious—hostile towards Joshua this entire time. For one red cycle, you've gone out of your way multiple times seeking evidence of any wrongdoing, anything dubious, anything that proves what you're claiming about him."

Tensing, Spyro growled. He narrowed his eyes and snorted. Jayce's questioning was beginning to poke his wings. "Yes, that does describe exactly what I've been doing as far as the furless ape is concerned. What are you trying to say?"

"Jayce," Ophelia warned. Her body had gone stiff. She was ready to move should Spyro try and hurt him.

Jayce took a couple steps towards her, to his credit. Still, Spyro's ire did not deter him. "I'm not implying anything. I just want to ask you, why are you treating me so well?"

Spyro snapped. "That's none of your—!" He suddenly sputtered mid-speech. "W-what? Huh?" His aggressive demeanor yielded to confusion as he belatedly realized the ape had asked him something completely different from what he was expecting.

Jayce had the advantage and he made good use of it. "Spyro… Lord Spyro, look at me. I'm an ape living peacefully in a community full of dragons, atlawa, polar bears, and snow leopards. The only ape. Lifebringer's mercy, it took years before December finally embraced me, yet to this very day travelers from the south still lose their scales whenever they see me!

"Meanwhile, you." With an exaggerated movement, Jayce gesticulated at Spyro and whipped his arm at him. "You! The hero who killed hundreds, maybe a few thousand, of my kind to end the war! You didn't scrutinize my story. You didn't hit me with any of that stubborn doubt you've been throwing at the furless ape for weeks. Azeroth the Infinite, you've also used my name, at least twice!"

Jayce's tone became increasingly bewildered as he spoke. He regained his courage the more words he uttered while Spyro started shrinking inward, his eyes quaking, his drowsiness having given way to anxiety anew. "Yet the reality is, you've known Joshua since last cycle. You and Sir Claytor know more than we do. What is it about him that bothers you so much when you can casually talk to an actual ape you just met minutes ago?"

To Claytor's surprise, Spyro did not have an instant retort prepared for him. His muzzle rounded at the village temple, an expectant gaze on the double doors at the top of the stone-carved step. He looked like he wanted to run away and flee from this conversation. "I…"

Two weeks ago, when Spyro literally dropped from the sky with a demand to join the vintaine, Claytor had conjectured his reasons were related to Joshua. Back then, he'd concluded that Spyro needed to capture an ape for interrogation. Now that they were speaking with one who was freely sharing this information… it dawned on the Vinetar that this might not have been his intention. Did Spyro join the caravan just to get away from Joshua? To abscond from the people who were slowly becoming cloaca-smacked by his success?

"I… I can't…"

"Spyro," Jayce called, "I'm not asking you to satiate my curiosity. Not anymore." He brought his hand down on the hero's purple scales. Spyro flinched for an instant, but calmed as soon as the ape stroked along his spinal column. "I'm like a father to the folks here in Eyria, and I can see there's a bigger problem going on." Jayce offered a disarming smile, keeping the lips closed so as not to bare his teeth. "You should tell us. Maybe we can help."

Claytor thought of something and asked, "You won't mention this in the airstreams, will you?"

"No. This one's a personal matter. Ophelia and I will stay quiet about it."

"Good." Claytor's gaze fell on the Purple Dragon, who'd been shivering as they spoke. "Spyro?"

The Savior took a long time to cogitate. A very long time. He maintained a reticent stare on the snow beneath their paws, fatigue in his body, but with alertness in his eyes. He opened his muzzle several times to speak before hesitating, letting out a barely audible rasp, and returning to his deliberations.

It was only after what felt like hours did Spyro finally break the silence emanating from him. "I… I don't know," he confessed. "I-I recognize you make valid points about the furless ape. I can't even argue against you about him, let alone Cyn."

A long sigh.

Spyro raised his eyes to the twilight. To the moons that twinkled in a swirling canvas of blue and orange. "I can't explain it no matter how much I try to figure it out. It's just that… whenever I see him, whenever I think about him…"

"I get angry. It feels like, my soul itself is being… violated."

The words trickled out slowly, replete with uncertainty and inner turmoil. "I feel as if… he shouldn't exist. Something deep inside me is saying... screaming that the furless ape doesn't belong here. His very existence is wrong, and a calamity might happen the longer we allow him to walk the Realms."

---

Author's notes:

I'm happy to dedicate this chapter as a tribute to two of the many writers in the Spyro fanfiction community who had inspired me to start writing Aimless back in 2015.

I'd like to thank Bizzleb for letting me use his setting Village of Eyria and his OCs Kalen, Ophelia, Aurona, Gileao, and Selema, which originate from his fanfic "Whispers in the North" (itself a short story taking place after the events of his post-DotD main story, "Key to Destiny" and "Key to the Soul"). Although they are mainly restricted to the "December Cliffs"

I'd also like to thank MissRiverstyxx not only for allowing me to use her OCs Charla and Jayce Bladelizard (from her mid-ANB fanfic "Firelight") but also for giving me her blessing on the alternate backstory I've given them. If you're wondering where Charla is right now… she's actually in Warfang, living a normal life. She'll have no bearing on the main story though.

And that's all I have to say for now. Hope you guys enjoyed my latest update.

Replies to reviews…

Battlehawk90. Fixed. Thanks for the quick comment. I hope you enjoyed the whole thing!

Guest #1 (Guest). Thank you so much for the comment! I first planned it from an omniscient point of view, then restricted the readers to one of the characters' POV, namely Claytor's.

Guest #2 (Guest). That's assuming he's even allowed to grow to his full potential...

BronzeHeart92. Hello and thanks for your review! :D

Oh yeah, definitely took some sweet time. You probably don't know this, but I'm running another story—an original work—outside FFN, so I juggle my creative time between Aimless and the OG fic. I hope to turn it into an ebook someday. ^_^

I think you're mistaking Bartholomew for Bentley. Anyway, as for the decision to design Bartholomew as a villain. Well, in the Year of the Dragon, he shows few signs of being antagonistic in some way (the kind with a penchant for manipulating a protective big brother like Bentley) and his idle animations are the type that look... "asshole-ish". Aside from that, he isn't really given much characterization to begin with, so he's a blank slate. I figured that, growing up he'd inherit Bentley's eloquence and then he eventually went out into the world, wanting to explore life outside the December Cliffs and life just took him away from the Allied Territories themselves... most likely to the Skylands Empire. If you pay close attention to the text, the Skylands orator Akash has actually seen him before.

SKDaGamer. Thanks for the review, SK. Always looking forward to feedback from you since you're pretty detail-oriented and you don't hold back any punches (without going into insults or foul language)

Re: chapter length. I won't deny that I have a tendency to show too much. Still, this is a massive improvement compared to what happened in the "Gates of Warfang" arc. I see this as a win for my shortening skills.

Re: large cast. The characters that are important to the main story number about a total of fourteen (including villains). Of those, about half are in my pool of usable POVs. We have a bunch of recurring side characters, sure, but none of them are POV characters. Anyone else outside this, whether they're cameos or otherwise, are either localized to their story arcs or chapter series. An example of this would be all the characters in the December Cliffs arc. The only ones who are truly important to the main story are really Spyro and Bianca.

Stryker suggested I make a list of my main cast, give it a little bit of detail, and put it on my profile to set the record straight on who exactly readers should be keeping an eye on.

And yes, I got your reason as to why using "Terrador" for a minor character won't work. I'll probably just not mention him from now on. It was a fun experiment though.

Re: story design. I'm sorry you feel that way. You do make valid points regarding the design of the fic—there's actually been a lot I had to cut out ever since I adopted your advice to take on a 20-chapter outline. It helped. I've also clued in both of my beta readers into Aimless's long-term story plan, so their inputs are very helpful in this regard.

As for the length of each chapter… I'm not gonna budge on the 8K ~ 12K range that I regularly strive for. First, I'm from a fandom where 15K to 20K is considered normal. Second, I'd also like to point out that there are a bunch of popular fics in the Spyro fandom with long chapters. Dragon(s)layer had a monstrous 20K piece for its most recent update. Dardarax's Dark Legacy, all of DragonMaster000's fics, and River's Residual Darkness all average 10K per chapter. Sorry, but I will continue to do as I please as far as this is concerned.

I'd love it if you could still stick around for future Aimless updates, but if you lose interest, well… that's a shame. That sort of thing does happen.

Djax80. What you described is exactly what I did for the first major fight in the fic. You remember how I spent NINE FUCKING CHAPTERS on a single fight that lasted less than 30 minutes in-universe XD

Keeping an eye on Bianca aren't you?

And yes! Corey got lucky there.

Thanks for reviewing and hope to see you in the next update.

EndlessPossibilities57. Hello! Thanks for the review.

Hehe, I know that scene you're talking about. I was visualizing something exactly like that, except there was no talking in it. Bianca just shows up with the spell in her hands and literally blows an ape double her height away with an impact spell. She's a badass in Aimless, I promise you that. XD

Aaaand yes! Blink's from Spyro canon. I could've sworn I mentioned it in Glorified Peon 3 (End), when he was first introduced. Guess he's someone nobody knows about unless you've played A Hero's Tail. Flame and Ember are frequently seen in fanart outside that game, simply because they keep on showing up in the Spyro-Cynder-Ember love triangle that fans love to cook up, so it's no surprise that you know them both.

Hope to see you again in the next chapter. ^^

Somas35. Hi Somas, thanks for the comment! And for your continued support.

Actually, a big chunk of the complaints stem from the lack of progression on the main story (i.e. Joshua's journey home and the geopolitical focus around Warfang). It's warranted, actually, since they came here expecting a different "human in the realms" fic, so rather than ignoring them outright, I basically did some rearranging so I can churn out more plot-driven content... without compromising too much on the mundane slice-of-life content. ^^

Whether it'll work… we'll see. I do pay attention to people's reviews. Again, thank you! :D

LoNeWoLf (Guest). That's just how bullies are, unfortunately. At the very least, they got their comeuppance. That's a lot better than what usually happens IRL.

Bizzleb. No time wasted, indeed.

To plan out that fight, I had to consider the battle from start to finish. What I did this time, though, was just focus on one POV instead of multiple and be determined to finish it all in one single chapter instead of several.

Yeah, Spyro and Bianca are gonna be the VIPs in the December Cliffs arc.

Oh, and again, thank you for letting me use your OCs and your setting. I'm glad you waited this long and I very hope I did justice to them. XD

I still hope you'll leave a review even though I've been giving you a preview alongside Stryker and Azure since the chapter mainly features your characters. :P

Thanks again!

Guest #3 (Guest). You should go read another story if you want to see that happening.

Piston24. Hi Piston!

Yep. Started the year off with a bang! And by "bang", I mean a fight scene. XD

Hmm, yes, I would say it's an addition. Rune magic and enchantments aren't covered in canon, but they are heavily implied considering it's a high fantasy world. For more info on what's going on behind the scenes... I suggest going back a few chapters XD I'm sure you'll be able to find some clues.

Oh, and yes, they are much more prepared than in either ANB or TEN. They're pretty much on par with the apes in Concurrent Skies or Well of Souls, but with better gear.

Bianca don't need to hold back anymore! XD

See you in the next update. ^^

DiabloPProcento. Hey Diablo!

Glad you loved the chapter. Worked really hard on making this battle scene awesome. :3

Hope to see you again in the next update.

MysteryWriter175. Thanks for the review!

I'm happy with the way you experienced this chapter. It's what I wanted the reader to experience: the vulnerability, the unpredictability of the fight... the idea that Claytor might not make it through. :D

Glad you agree with the reasons they both gave to limit their capabilities and avoid using their trump cards.

Miscoordination and friendly fire was a nice touch, yes. ^^ Thank you for noticing this. Plenty probably didn't.

Hope to see you again in the next update!

Skylord42. Thanks for the review!

Yeah, his lies are pretty much unnecessary, and people will find out eventually. It'll be fun when I get to that "isekai reveal" moment. :P

I hope the story continued to interest you past chapter 22 :D

Guest #4 (Guest). Only if he is really, REALLY desperate to make money. Maybe if he got stuck in the Angels with Scaly Wings world...

Henchman1997 (Guest). Thanks for the review!

Yeah, now that I'm finishing up with Joshua's immigration, so to speak, it's about time to get the real story moving again, and for that to happen, I need to do some world-building outside Warfang and give other characters much needed character development.

The world of Aimless is a blend of all three Spyro continuities (Classic, Legend, and Skylanders), along with a few select fanfictions (such as Firelight, if that isn't obvious already). I pretty much aim to explore locations from all of them, at least when the main story allows for it.

I haven't even heard of Re: Zero. Joshua is actually based on an IRL high school friend of mine. He was three years my junior. When we were in high school, he would act exactly the same way as he does here in the fic. I haven't met him at all since I graduated and went to university, but from what I can tell from his facebook profile, he's matured, he's taller, and he's got a cute wife. And no, he doesn't know I've turned him into a fanfic MC. lol. If he ever learns about this, he'll berate me for it. Might even demand I delete the character.

Vara's parents meeting Joshua? Hmm… Vara's mother would look down at Joshua for not being a dragon in spite of where he'd be in Warfang life by the time they get to meet. She'd coldly tell Vara to stop hanging out with him, get "real dragons" as friends, and stay away from the monoscales (Serenya, Kilat) and the "lesser species". While Remi would be fine with Joshua, as the enabler parent he'd rationalize away his mate's stance and naturally not do a thing. I'll have to figure out a name for her mother too.

It's a normal kind of antagonism, but highly relatable since people are like this IRL. As for how this will get resolved (if it even will), I'll think about it if I ever decide to make it part of the story. I'll have to figure out a name for Vara's mother though. While she does look exactly like Adine from AWSW, she's obviously not the same character.

Champylin. Whew… so many reviews! Heheh, thanks a lot! I hope you still got past chapter 29 :P

And I'll get around to reading your story, promise. :D I haven't had time for it lately… because of work, this fanfic, and my OG story. ^^;;;;

Mizo Remenman (Guest). Thanks for the comment! I'm glad you loved it.

Ah, that sort of thing is bound to happen at some point. Something I'm dying to write is a chapter where Joshua gets his hands on a guitar and plays with it back in his and Kilat's room.

Thanks for the suggestion though. If you've got something more specific in mind, feel free to let me know. :D

Reikenoh (Guest). Bianca has a LOT of trump cards hidden in her storage ring...

You wouldn't want to see her get serious.

Guest #5 (Guest). LOL. Not to worry, here's another chapter for ya!

M. Lingard. Thanks for the review!

Stressful, how?

Don't worry though, the story gets better later. Joshua starts winning over people around the mid-30s, so I hope you stuck around.