Shining Wyrm Trilogy [Original Fantasy/Dragon Fiction]

2.3

Adelyne was glad that her lady was such a calm and gentle creature.

But unlike some of the younger fools and resident foreigners who remembered only Jewel's passivity in the last decade. Adelyne knew the terribly dangerous fury that lurked within the gentle dragon.

Any fool who could not see how the Shining Wyrm of Viznove empowered and underpinned the county she ruled was blind, daft and utterly deserving of the comeuppance falling on their heads.

What some foreign noble-gits or distant rulers took as Kaeketeh having a tame proxy or perhaps a symbolic beast of burden for a countess was anything but.

The Guild Triumvirate's rule was like a millstone for Viznove which ground wool from Rochford into wealth beyond reasoning. And from that wealth did the hungry ever grinding stone of the city and its guilds turn even more products into silver and gold.

There were children who had always known this prosperity now.

Not like before.

Viznove had normally been only a passably rich county before.

The River Vah made a good passage for trade to other vaults by water.

But most of their products had only so much to offer the rest of the realm and world beyond.

Much of the County's riches until now were made by clever use of opportunity for loans to the High King. But that was before Adelyne had even been born!

No Kaeketeh, despite her youthful beliefs, had never been very rich on its own merit.

The Records in the keep proved that.

Its place in the realm going back decades before Bathory had been secured by the simple reality that to bring an army of any size to the rest of the Realm the Magarska Kingdom had to conquer or pacify the Ridgetail Mountains and their vault.

And Viznove by its under and overways would always be first to taste Magarska blades in war.

Which meant that contrary to the present Viznove was for most of its existence war stricken and wounded.

A grim reality that was now closer than ever before.

Adelyne sighed and stared at her desk. She knew it was supposed to be a very fine wood, It had in fact once belonged to the Countess Bathory herself along with this very office.

She had not seen the shining surface of it in years.

There was just so much work to do!

The urge to shove all this parchment into a pyre rose and was squashed in a well practiced habit.

Adelyne turned her attention to the serious face of her lady and liege, the cause of all her present troubles. The almost comical appearance of the wyrm with her head, neck and shoulders in the room while the rest of her body had to remain outside to avoid crowding the office.

Apparently in her youth she had been able to fit, if barely.

Now that was out of the question.

The wyrm had a suitably serious expression on her face for the matter at hand.

When did Adelyne, a child of the streets, become someone who knew the history of Viznove and its finances going back a century?!

After Jewel had taken her word in serious council and listened to her?

Helped the youths and old that had been left to rot by the world?

Made Adelyne in all but name Mistress of Kaeketeh?

It was probably one of those steps that did it.

Well she had her duty to her Countess.

"I've confirmed it, the wolf prince is real, eleven winters aged now."

That brought an exhausted sigh which filled the room with a scent of rain.

A deep rumbling thing which rolled over Adelyne and even sent the less well secured rolls of parchment tumbling loose off her vellum bush of a desktop.

"Then Magarska finally has a counterpart to me? Have we received any message from High King Mathias yet? Or Count Thurzó? Have you informed them?"

Adelyne shook her head.

"I have trusted riders waiting for your word. But The High King's hardly been seen outside of his palace grounds for over a year according to word in the capital. Equally so your friend and neighbor is growing very aged my Lady, he's not even left Arva for four years."

Her Countess paused at that.

"It's been so long? Four years?!"

Adelyne nodded.

"Viznove's allies are dwindling to time Lady Jewel. Your father is likely to claim position as first among Gryphon Riders this summer. Count Fiebron is going to abdicate to his son's rulership of Zekhedge. The heaven-close air has grown to be too much for him."

Jewel's face went flat and still but the way her hair raised a bit at the roots, the slight curling back of her ears. The ever so slight tilting of her scales at their bases to bring their points out around her neck?

Yeah that implication riled the countess.

"Zekhedge is our ally. the brotherhood of Gryphon riders-"

Adelyne interrupted.

"Fiebron's eldest failed to make a bond with a Gryphon Jewel. His last chance to win one's trust was lost out to your brother."

Jewel stared at her.

"But his youngest brother did well in the eyrie-"

Adelyne sighed heavily.

"Which rankles the soon to be count even worse Jewel, I'm sorry but we may need to stop the tour. If Magarska is feeling emboldened by their own wyrm? Has been preparing them for war? We need to see to securing matters outside of Viznove before another invasion is declared."

Jewel's tone was harsh. It rumbled in Adelyne's bones.

It made her eyes itch.

"We've held peace for the entirety of my reign as Countess. We hosted High King Murad of Magarska in this very keep just a year ago! Just because they now can match me with a wyrm in the Kingdom does not mean-"

Adelyne met her countess' eyes, glare for glare, interrupting as only she apparently could.

"My Lady, High King Murad's chosen heir? He lost his first wife and son to the troubles in the Vlach Lands."
That shut her up, Adelyne's lady had been almost as furious about the troubles as Magarska's royalty. Last year Adelyne thought that obvious fury at the injustice of unleashing such ensorceled horrors on the Kingdom had been a step towards peace.

But now she realized it had shown them as a point of weakness.

"Nevermind that Murad was here a year ago and we heard nothing from him that Magarska has been rearing its own Tyrant Wyrm for a decade?!"

The Countess of Viznove winced.

A wyrm who could enact terrible magic, who was whispered of on the streets in the same tone as a family patron goddess. Who through no small amount of effort on Adelyne's part was revered by the people of this city as the thing of beauty and terrible kindness that a stupid street rat of a girl had recognized so long ago.

Such a thing winced at the words spoken by Adelyne.

The daughter of the streets pulled back some of her heated tone that her accursed tongue had still managed to slip ahead of her thoughts.

Tried to soothe the gentle, but terribly powerful creature before her.

"Last winter I'd have agreed with you Jewel, Magarska had every indication they would keep the peace. Their grievances with the whole monstrosity of the Vlach and that bloody savior of theirs seemed settled as amicably as such bad blood could be. I'd say your gifts and condolences were as well received as possible."

Adelyne huffed heavily.

"But with this wolf prince of theirs confirmed? With the duplicity of hiding him from us? High King Mathias of Cantor Reborn has not marched himself in war for his entire reign. And he is for all the wizardry he calls on, still growing older."

Jewel glared down at her, but the anger there was not for Adelyne.

The tone was held back from the true fury the wyrm could unleash in anger.

"If we are to face war then I need to secure Viznove even more than before. My vassals are a veritable legion Adelyne. They must be consolidated before a muster, we made this plan together! Viznove needs unity. Not the anarchy that Bathory made of it!"

And there was where she knew she had lost the argument, she didn't even need Fizzbunche's spell for it.

Jewel's course was set and would not be diverted.

Adelyne sighed and dipped her head.

"Very well, you would have me send the riders then to inform your allies and the High King of this news?"

Jewel nodded, voice firm, eyes sharp.

"Yes, at once. If there is a threat of war, High King Mathias needs to be told. We need to rally the rest of the Ridgetail Vault to make preparations as well."

She'd been sure that she might just be able to convince the Countess of Viznove to change course.

Get the bleeding heart of a serpent to aim for a bigger picture.

But if there was one flaw in Jewel that Adelyne could see it was this:

The Shining Wyrm of Viznove cared for her family and her people over all other things.

Adelyne hoped on the gods and the city and the shining wyrm before her that the peace would hold long enough that their original plan could pull through.

"As you command my lady."

But she knew better than to trust in stars.

2.4

Jewel's mood was darkened by thoughts of war.

But the morning was putting in a tremendous effort to drown her gloom in spring beauty.

The day's walk began with early light shining between the eastern mountains of the vault. Cutting golden warmth across Viznove's hills and forests like a path leading her back to Rochford.

On her right the Vah glittered like gold under the radiance of late spring sun.

Her party chattered happily in the good weather.

And Jewel, or rather Gem was obligated to contribute, but even with a whole separate self to try and focus on lighter conversation she could not keep most of her attention off the impending doom for her land and people.

"His second child is due as of the last letter."

"I still think that's so strange, why would a woman have a child born any time of year but right before the harvest?"

"Gem, most people are not born all at the same time of year. That's a Provincial thing."

Paul's words mingled with her own and the rhythms and subtle music of Viznove.

At first it was the sounds of Kaeketeh just waking with the dawn. But as they left the wide expanse of fields and orchards around the city the forests and smaller hamlets surrounded to fill the air with a different kind of life.

The woods and water all sang with joy and fresh growth. Burgeoning with the song of frogspawn and fish beneath the surface of the river and along the little inlets and creeks that fed the Vah. Jewel could hear the voices of hatchling birds in nests both along the banks where tall grass grew and in the branches and hollows of trees on her left.

They saw more mule trains hauling barges heavy with barrels and bundles. All heading upriver on the far bank west of them. Most of those goods were meant for the teeming masses of Kaeketeh's thousands.

Muriel called attention to the great white birds Jewel had once not recognized for their lack in Rochford and still thought absurd. The animal of Thurzó of Arva's heraldry.

Swans.

Their bulbous bodies and serpentine necks were so strange. Like someone had taken a wyrm and attached it to an oversized chicken. Then put it on the water of all things!

"Hmmm, we should arrange a hunt for them. The meat is very sweet and succulent. I think you would like it."

She nodded to him with Gem's head.

Jewel would trust Dariusz on stocking the larder of her vassals' kitchens. He had never steered her wrong when suggesting new dishes.

Even if she had first relented at Paul's insistence there were some noble fare worth eating.

The beauty of her lands seemed to feed the grim worries in her flame.

All around her the signs of prosperity shone under the sun.

She had seen how Kaeketeh grew staggeringly full with people and how devastated a single battle could render a village years past.

Viznove had thrived in peace for decades now.

But for one single short war in her youth there had not been any major conflict for its people.

And that would change for what?

"Word is Lord Timotej is now planning a hunt for a wild boar to honor your arrival. Apparently he hopes to make a gift of Kraoska out of it."

Paul's words drew her back to the march.

She offered her husband a smile.

"Well that should be most welcome. It is a Pity that lord Kraok himself could not join us on the tour. But I'd never call a man away when his wife was expecting."

Paul hummed a moment but shook his head.

"Better he isn't, the hunt is apparently to be a proper Gryphon Rider affair. With Lord Ladislav joining as well. Would be a dishonor to the boarslayer to merely be among the party to collect and prep the kill."

Jewel hummed and nodded at that.

"So long as they don't ask me to bring the beast down by melee or flame I have no problems. I've no desire to wrestle another pig in the mud."

Her scales trembled at the memory from her childhood. The sudden twisting impact. The burning in her lungs as her throat failed to pull air. The way her heart had slowed and her mind muddled ever dimmer and slower.

She probably would not be so easily bested as she was then.

An unbloodied child was not a trained war serpent.

But why risk it?

Then the thought struck her.

This Wolf Prince was hardly any older than she had been then.

...

That was it!

"Paul!"

Her tone drew the rest of the party to jerk and stare at her.

"Yes, my wife?"
Jewel's thoughts were suddenly filled with all the things she had to learn as a child. All the struggles of her early years. All the little pains and difficulties that had plagued her growing up. A lady of Rochford, but also a dragon.

"Paul, when we reach Dewglen manor I need to send an immediate message to Kaeketeh. There are things to set in motion. For the peace of Viznove."

Her Husband raised his brows at that but nodded.

"I'll make sure that the harbinger informs them so we give no insult."

Which was always a funny turn of phrase, the harbinger was going to be Paul himself. At least in her own lands no one was better a match for seeing to the business of her arrival.

Jewel was confident her husband could sense her urgency.

But they would need to find a private moment to discuss the specifics before their arrival tomorrow. The frame of a plan was there, but details needed to be worked out.

Magarska may have a Wyrm, but this Prince was still a child.

At that age Jewel had nearly been slain by an overly large pig. She had not even figured out spinning! Surely the poor girl was suffering just as her elder had.

Alone but for her family.

That was how Jewel could forge a lasting peace between Magarska and The Realm.

Just like how Bethica had been a confidant for Jewel and a voice that could relate to being mistaken for a beast. So could Jewel offer to tutor and train Magarska's Wolf Prince.

She just needed to see the overtures were made before someone did something foolish.

With the assurance that she had a path forward to avert war Jewel found she could raise her head high and enjoy the late-spring into early-summer weather.

There was a way to preserve the peace

Jewel could do this!

2.5

Jewel had already learned a great deal about her Vassal, Baron Timotej before this welcoming feast.

For starters she had actually had several conversations in Flight Cant with the man during the war. He had the most ridiculous way of describing sheep which had left her laughing for hours on the wing.

Timotej had been significantly younger then. Barely a fledgling Knight she realized. Just a few years riding his charge at most.

No grey in his hair and hardly any beard then.

She'd seen his hair fill out and his position grow in esteem as a Gryphon Knight in the background of her court after she assumed her place in Viznove. Offering little in the way of political difficulties and thankfully uninvolved in the internal affairs of the old Bathory guard.

And when she needed to replace an heirless baron?

Paul had suggested she grant him lands south of Kaeketeh along with the other bathory sworn Gryphon Knight.

As such she already knew Timotej.
A simple military man that reminded her a lot of a more cautious Alexander.

Yet beyond what scattered encounters she had with the man before this one feast had taught her so much more.

He loved Swan for example and had been enthusiastic to procure a dozen of the birds for tonight's feast at the slightest suggestion from Paul. Dariusz had been equally welcomed to take charge of the kitchens of the relatively tiny manor of Dewglen.

And it was unfortunately rather small.

Jewel could have covered the entire length of the feasting hall with a third of her tail needing to bend back over again.

For decorum she was piled on top of herself at the place of honor across from the Timotej.

A baron she might have made Timotej, and a Gryphon Lord at that. But he had been a mere Knight ten years ago. His house was richly decorated but Dewglen was not a demesne that he could afford to tear down and rebuild his feasting hall to Jewel's proportions.

Paul was seated on her right, Gem on her left, with her 'Nurse Knight' taking up the next place to the left past her spawn.

But the unfortunately small accommodations of men aside, it was a good feast.

Swan of course, but the rest of the meal had been a delicious medley, with a surprising abundance of fish and eel to go along with the sweeter bird flesh. Which was quite novel for Jewel's palette.

Kaeketeh Keep's kitchen staff mostly avoided fish as common fare. And Rochford's streams and lakes were far too small and shallow for much of any fish.

So Jewel had mostly not had very much of the light meat.

Eel and trout were different from anything else. Delicate in a way that was unlike any other meat Jewel had tried. And all the more common for how it was cooked in butter to a crisp brown, but so delicate a toothless elder could have eaten it.

She rather liked it though.

It also was not something that had merely been done to try and appease her 'provincial tastes'.

Her vassal truly favored a less noble palette for his table.

Even when serving a countess her feast!

And instead of giving empty praises to her chef's choice in cooking as some of Jewel's guests in Kaeketeh did, Timotej eagerly and honestly enjoyed what her kitchen master made of the birds.

Genuinely enjoyed it and enquired to have the recipe shared with him!

Which was another surprise.

The man enjoyed cooking for himself!

Who cooked for themselves?

It was so strange.
The only complaint Jewel could have for Timotej and his family was that he did not really seem to understand courtly propriety at all.

Which struck the most completely as they brought the sumptuous meal to a close.

As was proper Jewel offered the words.

"What can your Countess do for you?"

The traditional statement passed Jewel's lips. It was what was to be said at the conclusion of a meal with her direct vassals. The expected offering of a liege to those sworn to her. A chance to reaffirm the fealty.

For the first time in years of her reign her vassal spoke up with something other than the traditional reply.

"Actually my Countess, the lands of Dewglen and further south on the Vah are plagued by troubles we could use your assistance in."

It took Jewel a moment to realize that Lord Timotej, the Gryphon Knight she had elevated for his valor in war had in fact made a response to her ceremonial offering of aid rather than giving the traditional dismissal. Which was not something she exactly minded, but you were supposed to arrange these things beforehand!

Of course her mother had taught her better than to be flustered by this. But she could catch in Gem's eye the smirk flashing across Paul's lips.

Well if he was going to make a request officially she would respond in turn.

"Of course, what can Viznove do for her vassals?"

Raising her head up a little higher, but not so tall that she risked brushing the relatively low ceiling of his manor hall with her horns.

She watched as her baron genuflected from his seat.

The slight frame usual of Gryphon Riders was dipped low as he folded over at the waist. Making his seated posture swim in layered finery. If he stood it might hide how lean his musculature was. But it could not hide the fact he was more than a foot and a half shorter than Alexander.

Timotej raised his voice with his head.

"A bandit of some fierceness plagues the woodlands along either bank of the Vah south of Dewglen. Both I and Ladislav of Fishwell have tried to catch him out. But his gang is wise of the manner of Gryphons and keeps under cover when we fly."

Jewel blinked slowly before nodding. That was technically within her responsibilities. But at the same time it was also her Vassals who were expected to see to their lands.

To directly request her to intervene was an admittance of Timotej failing in his responsibilities.

A more greedy liege might have used this to wrangle a change in the contract.

Jewel had no such desire, but it could add even further delay to her tour.

But they were due to stay in his demesne for a good portion of the season, and then make their way across the Vah for her time with Ladislav after all.

And If thieves and banditry were to the point that two Gryphon Lords and their men could not quell it?

That was a task worthy of Jewel's intervention, even if it should be a simple affair.

"Very well, I will see to this matter Lord Timotej. See that Muriel my captain is given all you know of this-"

"Robin"

Jewel held back a frown at the interruption. She was glad she was making such a tour. Her vassal Timotej appeared to be somewhat lax in his grasp of the proper courtesies.

"Yes, see that Muriel hears all that you know of this Woods Bandit Robin."

He nodded and finally Jewel took a breath to find her place in the proper courtesies and proprietary that her vassal had inadvertently scattered by actually making a request of her time..

"Then with that settled, I bid you my Vassal, Lord Timotej of Dewglen a good night and peaceful rest."

The once Knight now baron grinned at her and once again failed to precisely give the right courtesies. Although the rough honesty of the man was again a balm all its own.

"Good night to you my lady!"

It was nice to know that at least some of her direct subjects were completely uninterested in political scheming.

And with that the welcoming feast of her third vassal was settled.

Then she would have a dozen days to further learn the ways of Timotej and take his measure. Before she had to depart for the next one.

There were still so many of them.

Bathory had been insane to have Twenty Eight Vassals!

2.6

His mother did not name him Robin.

On surviving his second winter she called him Radomil. But John's family hailed from the Saezon lands across a dozen or more vaults by how he told it.

Apparently it was a hilarious kind of pun for a bandit to be named Robin in his ancestor's tongue.

Or he just found it easier to say rather than his full name.

He didn't mind.

Robin worked for him and his trade even, it had the sound of a sharp foreign menace, especially the way John said it.

The man who was named Radomil after his mother's desperate hope he would grow to be happy despite the providence of his birth found it best to not speak himself. Not because he couldn't manage to menace and threaten like his men.

But silence and the proper dead stare could still trained hands reaching for a blade better than bluster.

He looked over his crew, crouching in the brush along the road.

It was a dangerous business to practice banditry in Viznove.

But as he'd grown into the role the riches just kept growing. John's father had been the one to take him in and show him the trade. He'd been sweet on his ma. More then most, never even struck her for having a war begotten son at all.

Held her in the tent crying the nights she remembered that day.

Had looked after little Radomil like his own blood when she died to the winter's cold. He was twelve.

Of course he took up the 'trade'.

John and him started the job as watchers.

They were trained by the older crew in how to use a spear, and menace with a sword.

But that was something that took years of practice to be a threat with. A determined child with a knife or spear could fell a foolish man with a sword with a few season's training. To reliably kill with a sword could take years of learning.

Robin the man of fifteen winters knew how to use a sword now. How to take a man in the throat with an arrow.

But that was the work of less skilled bandits.

How to part someone from a purse or coffer of silver with a look was the real skill in his work.

And it was work, if not a terribly difficult kind, he wondered if it was harder for other people. If that was why everyone didn't simply take up banditry.

Well aside from in the army.

His unknown father certainly took plenty from his mother.

Her home, the support of her family.

Robin shifted before a sharp hiss lashed his ear only slightly more gently then the fist of its owner could strike him.

"Oiy, Focus boy!"

Robin spared a glance down to where Bruiser glared up at him. Unlike the rest of the crew, she was simply standing in the brush. The waif was so short to not even need to crouch to remain hidden.

Like the name Robin, Bruiser's height was an asset in banditry.

Foreigners never believed that slender build, short stature and cloth covered face with eerily large blue eyes could possibly be as dangerous as it was.

Idiots.

But It was useful whenever they spotted some foreign caravan who did not have local guides to tell them better.

Further south it often worked on locals too.

The waifs were sparse outside Kaeketeh. And all but unheard of beyond Viznove's borders.

Important things to know as a bandit.

Apparently there was a curse of some sort involved and there were only a thousand or so of them left these days?

He didn't know more than stories.

It was some old magic that none of them liked to talk about from before he was born or something? Bruiser was older than John's departed father. But still just as spry as ever. Robin had seen naked-faced waifs in Kaeketeh once or twice and their skin was normally clear and soft as a babe's. But all the ones he actually knew wore masks of one kind or another.

He only ever saw Bruiser's face when she ate.

And honestly It was kind of disturbing.

Not ugly exactly, but angry in a way that twisted the face enough to mistake it for such.

Undulating malice in every crease.

Curdling brows.

He was thankful for the cloth mask and hood favored by the most diminutive and dangerous member of his band.

He didn't need to know more about waifs then she told. Bruiser's experience balanced out the crew where the loss of John's father had left a hole.

Robin did not pry into why that face was so angry while the naked-faced were not.

Why some waifs had faces that were as smooth and carefree as any child.

He had things he did not like to talk about too.

Bruiser didn't like to talk about the origin of the waifs, or her fellows among them, and everyone in Robin's crew learned you did not antagonize the little fiend who was stronger than most men and at the perfect height to punch you in the dick.

Nevermind what she could do with a weapon.

That club over her shoulder could remove a man's leg at the knee one handed. And it was not in a clean way. The bone shattered and the meat was pulped.

He'd seen it.

Still a subordinate couldn't mock him without reprisal.

This was Robin's band not Bruiser's.

"I am focused, not everyone has eyes the size of chicken eggs filling up their head."

Which earned a good natured scoff. For all the pain of imminent unmanning there was surrounding digging into the past of the waif's Bruiser practically adored jabs at her appearance. She even offered the crassest insults for her every feature and flaw when drunk enough.

Insulting the little monster's ridiculously large eyes was actually a good way to settle her mood.

Mad creatures waifs.

Or maybe that was just Bruiser.

"Stars fortune damn right you don't. Don't you ever forget that, So you best keep those little specks you call peepers properly peeled boy."
Robin nodded and glanced across the road to the shrubbery where John was making a good effort of hiding in the brush. His brother in all but blood was a giant of a man, made all the more hilarious for how still and quiet he could become.

If the bandit didn't know precisely where to look, the blond oaf would have been invisible.

It made for the second very useful mistake their marks often made.

Either watching the tallest among the crew far too closely for how threatening he appeared while Bruiser got in a position to break legs.

Or losing track of John entirely.

Robin was about to offer another joke when he heard it.

The sound of slow plodding horses and wagons creaking heavily under burdens.

Everyone he could see on this side of the road stilled and shifted. The only sound was the forest itself.

Strings were silently pulled, bows bent to latch and hold taught with great care.

The wood only just creaked under careful hands as arrows were notched.

But Robin listened.

It was a delicate balance, a proper road block ahead of a trade caravan could do better to intimidate.

But that could only work if he had the crew to present overwhelming numbers and imminent lethality.

John was a big man but Robin's crew was only a dozen fighters that actually looked the part.

Bruiser was great at violence but mostly worthless for intimidation.

Thus there was only a particular size of traveling group which Robin's crew could properly waylay.

Anything more and it was too much a risk that the traders would simply fight through.

But if they took on too small a group the silver was short and they risked spreading word to the Barons and other lords precisely where they were.

Letting the poor pass tended to make it easier to rest in a village later too.

Robin was the leader because he had gotten very good at picking the best marks.

Letting pass those too impoverished to bother or too heavily armed to risk.

But there was no sorcery to how he did it.

Robin had to listen and watch. For all the size of her eyes Bruiser didn't in fact see things all that much better than a man.

He actually suspected her sight was a bit worse, given how awful she was with a sling.

So it fell to him, listening and watching.

It was a big caravan. Heavily laden. But that rattle of armor was far too many guards for his taste.

He offered a whistling sound, a warble that resembled but was distinctly not like any of the birds who lived in these woods.

The signal to his crew that they needed to hunker down and let this one pass.

Unstring their bows and settle in the brush.

They would have to wait for a ripe one.

No point in taking risks.

After all, that's how John's father had lost his life.

A hasty bandit was a dead one.

2.7

Jewel was impressed.

Timotej's bandit problem was far from the simple matter she had anticipated. To start with she of course had commanded Muriel to see to it.

But while they might find evidence of anonymous encampments along the roads, reports of ambushes or witnesses from villages where the outlaws had passed, any actual engagement for her or Timotej's foot proved elusive.

And patrols from the air with the Gryphon Lords for hunting (of bandits and boar) likewise turned up no clear sign of the men.

But the less guarded traders and travelers continued to report banditry.

Which was how Jewel had found herself descending from the air to the site of the latest act of extortion.

Having left for it as soon as the poor trader arrived in Dewglen proper to explain their plight.

Jewel was faster into the air than any Gryphon Rider could ever manage without their kit already in place.

Stealthier to land as well.

She alighted on the road, with the gentleness that only her wyrmflame could allow. Wings hardly even buffeting the fresh summer foliage of the wood's canopy. Emerald light filtering down on her scales, Jewel's claws sank into the packed dirt of the well traveled road and she settled as silently as she could and let her focus expand to fill her being with the world around her.

First were the senses Jewel had come to realize were shared with her spawn and that of men and beast.

The scent of the earth, of horses and mules passing. Of the distinct sweat of the victims from the caravan that had passed this morning and only reached Dewglen this afternoon to make their suffering known.

Underneath those scents were those of birds, of the crawling things of the soil, of other beasts further afield. Deer had traveled this way.

There were scents other than the bandit's victims and their animals. Men mostly, a child.

What kind of bandits brought a child to their thefts?

She would ask after she caught them.

Perhaps she was a hostage?

Then was the sight, there were broken branches and disturbed undergrowth along the trail in the shrub where the bandits had 'come up out of the woods like ghosts'.

But the hard earth of the road had seen many hooves and boots. The woods had trails from game across it to the left and right. There was nothing clear for her to focus on, Jewel's senses were sharp but she was no woodsman.

No luck of any easy signs by sight.

Last of her less sorcerous senses she listened but had little hope. The forest was not quiet, it was awash in the sound of leaves, of animals going about their business. Of the sounds of men burdened with stolen silver and goods or voices of potential bandits Jewel did not hear anything.

But Jewel was not limited to the senses of beasts. Not even by the feel of the dirt beneath her toes or the wind in her wings.

There was no faux flame to suggest ritual or sorcerous workings on this place. No divine interventions to clearly mark a god or the stars had altered anything within the last few days. But even there Jewel had more depth to her knowing of things.

She turned her attention down to the dirt, the road, the roots and trees, the branches. The world in these things was almost jittery. A road was very much like a river in how it kept its stones alert, ever changing, ever moving.

Buildings and cliffs and mountains made for sleepy and inattentive witnesses.

Riverstones and hard packed dirt paths though?

In comparison to the less walked cobbles of Kaeketeh? The road south of Dewglen was outright flighty!

It took a moment to keep the tousled and tumbled earth focused enough to recognize what she wanted. Distracted much like a child to tell her of every single hoof, foot and wooden wheel to pass over it.

But a few hours in the sun was not enough time that it had forgotten all those light touches yet.

And what's more it spoke to Jewel of how its dust had been picked up by clothes and shoes. With some effort and cajoling borne from long practice settling arguments for where a field line's post had once been dug back home she untangled the story from the road.

It took a good hour to get it clear in her mind which exact set of boots were the ones she wanted.

To make sure it was indeed the steps that had turned off the road in one spot in particular before the sun's light reached the road. And then came out only once and then left after moving amidst and among many hooves and wheels that marked a wagon.

By the time she finished interrogating the road, Jewel was a bit embarrassed to find she had missed a trade caravan that had stalled on the road ahead of her.

"Oh, apologies, good travelers! I did not mean to block the way. Please continue on."

Jewel had totally missed how her bulk of coils and wings had sprawled out across the road!

Her attention was so consumed with deciphering the impressions of dirt, mud, stone and plant and how they understood such things as men, mules and wagons she missed the world immediately around her.

Jewel slid off into the woods to the side.

But the foreigners and their guards still stared at her in shock.

Ah it was one of those.

"Please continue with your travel in peace, The countess of Viznove has secured this road from bandits and other outlaws. "

That got a few of them stirring and she politely ignored the muttered whispers among them, only half of which were in a tongue she could understand. Still one of the guards who had the look of a local Ridgetail mercenary was smirking and shaking his head.

The delay hung for several moments too long before the local finally yelled something in a flowery speech that Jewel thought was vaguely familiar.

And that finally got the caravan moving past Jewel again.

A few of the people passing her even bow in respect!

Jewel offered the local mercenary a smile of gratitude and he returned it with a dip of his head and a smirk.

After that passage Jewel turned her attention back to the road.

The earth and the scent agreed with one another. The thieves had gone south. It had been the better part of a full day since then but even on horses thieves could only travel so far. And Jewel could skip and glide along the road at quite some speed.

A few stops every few bounds to confirm the faint hint of the smell she had identified were among the bandits and the confirmation of the road on which hooves had passed assured her progress.

Jewel would catch up with these bandits and see that her service to her vassal was performed as befitting the bearing of a Countess Wyrm!

Besides this was actually turning out to be quite fun!

A hunt of men instead of boar!

And so different when done low down to the ground.

She would bound, follow the route, and continue along a little further. The scent and the memory of the road growing ever stronger to their passing even as she ate up the daylight hours. Covering miles of road, moving so swiftly through the tunnel of emerald green leaves was a rush that simply flying over did not give!

Jewel was going to have to try more of this in the future!

It did however give a few more travelers a fright as she passed them in a sudden rush of wind. But she apologized over her shoulder and didn't see any injuries from the few times a horse or mule startled.

She could smell she was getting closer!

That soon she could bring some awful thieves to justice.

But all of that came to a sudden and incredibly wet shock when Jewel found herself following the trail in a turn towards the Vah.

And failing to arrest her momentum as she released her wyrmflame to make another step.

A step that instead of finding solid earth sank into dark waters.

Followed closely after by the rest of Jewel's coils.

And then the sucking mass of the mud was between her toes and the river's currents were dragging the middle of her body out from under her.

She was tumbling over in the Vah!

Filling her body with wyrmflame only made it worse! Without the weight of her flesh and bone the river's push came over her even stronger and then her left wing was underwater and her right was flailing in the air.

Somehow she ended up upside down, with her head underwater dragging along the muddy banks and her tail and hind limbs kicking and whipping among the reeds.

The water's currents were deceptively strong for how gentle they appeared. Implacable in a way wind never was.

It took intense concentration for Jewel to master herself and properly get everything situated.

In the end she was sore, wet, half covered in mud and deeply ashamed of herself.

The trail had been lost to the river. Neither water nor air was able to tell her whence the bandits had gone. Scent and her other more wyrmish senses lost them at the bank.

The only solace was that no one had actually seen Jewel trip over a river.

That was just so horribly undignified!