Wyverns crashing into barns is no basis for a system of government.
A Dance of Wyverns (Original - Victorian England)
A Dance of Wyverns (Original - Victorian England) (Complete)
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Chapter 1
Erien
God's Weakest Soldier
- Location
- Georgia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I woke up like I did every morning: with one eye half open and the other valiantly fighting to stay down and convince me it was still night-time. Unfortunately for the brave soldiers' efforts, I was greeted by bright sunshine playing across my face, the distant singing birds, and the fresh lowland wind, carrying teasing scents to me; hints of flowers from my windowsill and cow droppings from my job. I pressed my shoulders back against the bed, using my elbows to prop myself up, and looked blearily out the window. With one limp hand, I rubbed at my eyes, clearing the crust and forcing them to open and repeatedly blinked before looking out at the sight of the farmland.
The coos were out already, I noted with resignation. The old barn door, a veteran of more battles than I could imagine, was simply too little to stop them from fetching their morning breakfast. The bell on Bonni rang quietly as she leaned down to munch, and I watched the sight quietly. The sun had barely poked over the horizon, marking it as the morning, early morning. Its rays speared through the trees and lit up the hills, and a single word came to mind at the sight.
"Damn." The word came out half a curse, half a yawn that I covered with my hand as I swung my legs over the bed. They hit the cold wooden floor below, and I took a moment to let the temperature change shock, aid in my awakening a moment before standing up fully.
The warm blanket drifted off my shoulders, calling me like a siren back into its embrace, but I ignored it and shuffled out of the bedroom. My feet took me past the pail of water that serves as my bath, but I ignored it, continuing onwards towards the small house's front. It was the first day of planting, and there was no point in trying to clean up right before going elbow deep in dirt, plant, and fertilizer.
I grabbed the clothing hanging from the doorframe, throwing it on as I closed the door behind me and continued, one awkward hop to another, changing as I moved.
The sound of my feet echoed down the narrow hallway, passing by the other empty bedroom and the small closet past it to enter the main room. A small window next to the door was the only thing allowing light into this room, illuminating little more than the dresser below it and the fireplace. The hay-strewn floor crunched underfoot, throwing dust to play in the light cast in the window, which I watched for a few moments before taking a seat at the table. The only food present on it, and in the house for that matter, was a small plate of apples. The spare meat ran out yesterday, along with the vegetables from the spring garden, leaving only a small morsel of salted meat for special occasions and apples. I needed to head into the village at some point to get more… but an apple was enough to start.
I glanced at the empty pantry as I ate, the crunchy apple seeming to almost echo in the silent room... I sigh again, take another bite, and walk out the door. The old wooden door put up a fight, resisting me like my barn should have resisted my coos, still, an application of the shoulder was enough to finally free me.
The transition between the cool interior of the house to the warm August is enough to wake me the rest of the way up, and I lean back against the wall as I look over the fields. Past the old storehouse lies the first of three fields, freshly tilled yesterday and waiting for this year's lot of turnip seeds… hopefully, more successful seeds than last years. My eyes flit from the tilled soil to the buds of green on the far side; the potatoes I planted last month took well. It's a crop I know god-given little about, but I've heard good things at least.
I stepped forward, idly tossing the core of the apple onto the ground as I made my way around the farmhouse and towards the barn. My shoes clicked against the old cobbled stone, the surface cracked from decades of trodding. "Morning, Bonni!" I called out, running my hand along the stone fence that surrounds the field as I went.
The coos ear twitched, and she slowly raised her head towards the sound of my voice before she returned to grazing. "Oooh," I say in disappointment. "That's not a proper mornin' greet is it?"
Dylan mooed in response, his tail flicking behind him as he ate his grass. "Oh see, Dylan gets it. You could learn proper manners from him, Bonni."
Another moo was my only response, this time from William. I grinned and hopped the fence, walking amongst the cops as I moved towards the barn.
My smile dropped as I assessed the damage: the wooden door was broken off its hinges. The thing was old and hurt to start with, but it seems the coos managed to bump it enough to fail completely. A sigh escaped my lips as I ran my hand along the wood; I'd need to prop it up and get it back onto its hinges, lest a whipper drake or the like get into the barn during the night. The little bastards have been trying at that. If the long series of scratches on the wood are anything to go by. No fox or wolf left long singular gouges in wood like that, so one of the forest wyverns was probably getting ideas after my cattle.
I looked out to the west forest and beyond it the city, where more than a few whipper drakes were let loose in the countryside once they got too large to keep around the house. That also meant they went after the local cattle, which was unfortunate since the local polis wouldn't go chasing after them. I just didn't have anywhere near the money to hire a wyvern catcher. I looked between the forest and the scratches on the barn, then to the interior of the barn itself. There was a time when the local farmers could pool their money to deal with such a thing.
But I was the only one who didn't move into the city for work.
It would be another season before I could possibly pay to fix the barn up entirely; if the farm was even around that long. Two bad harvests in a row, on top of more industrial farms easily out-producing me, meant times that were already tough had devolved to the point of complete unsustainability.
But there were seeds to plant. I walked along the barn with another sigh to hoist the large ditty bag of seeds onto my shoulder. It took a bit of adjusting, but soon I could stand up straight under the load and took it back outside. It was a quick walk from the cowpen to the first of the fields. With careful adjustment so that the ditty bag rested underneath my arm, I started to sow the seeds into the tilled soil. It was meticulous work, yet it was something I couldn't help but always enjoy; in due time, with patience and care, I would have made something big from very little. It fascinated me when I saw my father doing it as a child, and it continued to fascinate me as I started the work myself at age six. At the age of twenty, it had never lost the simple magic it possessed, and there was pride in doing what my ancestors had been doing for millennia. Though the thought that I may be the last put a bitter taste in my mou-
My musings were interrupted by a roar, and I looked up from my work to see a shadow moving across the sky. A wyvern, probably twice the size of my house, was flying off towards the city. Ropes or chains attached to its wings' joints were pulled taut, and an airship trailed behind it on those chains. I'd heard about one of those newer designs at the market; a mix of wood and some metal kept from falling completely via balloons. I had no idea how it worked, but it was nothing less than a fascinating sight.
"Oh! That's the new model!" a familiar child's voice ripped me from my appreciation. I looked back past the cow paddock to see little Charlie leaning over my fence and pointing up towards the sky.
His hands were cupped around his right eye like a spyglass, his mouth open as he tried to make out every detail of the airship. "Issit now?" I called out. "New enough that it keeps ya from yer classes, Charlie?"
Charlie's hands dropped, and the boy gave me a pout. "Oh, get off it Arthur, I'm heading there now, aren't I?"
"Nah, yer hanging 'round my paddock now." I replied. "there'll be plenty of talk of airships in the village ah'm sure. 'Less ya want to help me with seedin' again?"
Charlie ran off at that, his shoes kicking up dust as he sprinted down the rough road with his jacket catching the wind behind him. I smiled at the sight, watching him until he went out of sight before returning to my seeding.
It took me a good four hours to finish half the fields; the farm isn't huge, certainly nowhere near as large as the new owners up north. But father's farm was by far the largest in the county, and such a plot of land takes considerable time to seed on one's own… and far longer to plow for that matter.
The roaring never stopped either; the wyvern circled the city for a good long while before landing; it has done three passes since. What was once a rather exciting sight has become a tad more annoying cause the damn thing kept spooking the coos. I placed my hand above my eyes to shade them as I watched it go in for another landing. The coos watching it warily… However, not warily enough to stop eating as it started to make its descent. I had only been near a Wyvern once, a full-sized one anyway, however many years back, when dad took me to a fair out in Glasgow. The damn thing was bigger than the farmhouse and kept a factory alight; dad always told me how honorable they were. Frankly, I didn't know where he'd learn that, but still, something had to be magical about flying up that high.
Course, like every other kid in England, I wanted to own one when I was younger, but the family could barely afford the cattle by that point, let alone a tame wyvern. My arguments about how easily it could pull the plow were ignored. Frankly, now seeing the size of the field as an adult, I'd agree with my father faster than I'd take my own side.
I tossed the remains of the apple I was eating over the fence and made my way over to the coos, Bonni's head-turning up to look at me as I did so. Her head tilted slightly as I approached, her black eyes curious through the mop of long brown hair the breed was known for. "How ya doin' today, Bonni? Dylan been given' ya any troubles?"
Bonni stared at me for a moment before lowering her head to eat more grass. "Well, good ta' hear it," I said glibly, then moved past her towards the other field.
"You talking to the coos again, Arthur?" Mary's voice called out. I turned my head to look at the woman who stopped to lean across my fence near where Charlie did earlier. She was lovely as always, her auburn hair done up enough that it was maintained but loose enough that errant strands hung down in curls over her forehead. She was wearing that brown dress I loved seeing her in.
Not that I was exactly happy to see her. "Ah am," I replied, "da' always spoke of havin' an intelligent conversation. Unless ah'm headin' out to the creek to speak to my reflection, there's hardly none of that 'round."
Mary snorted then hopped the fence, her dress barely clearing the stone as she did so. "Oh, come now, Arthur, ya can't still be mad, can ya? Ya know, I don't get any say in it."
I walked past her towards the field, the ditty bag bouncing at my side as I unlocked the fence and started spreading the seeds once more.
"Arthur!" Mary shouted indignantly. "Ya know I'll write!"
I paused in tossing the seeds, slowly looking up towards the girl… woman. "Like George does? Or Angus? Mabel? Or any of the others who went to the city for work? When was the last time ya heard from any of them?"
A distant crack of thunder sounded out, and I turned my head to see storm clouds forming to the south. Rain would make the day easier, even if it made Mary's words have the wrath of god behind them when she spoke again.
"Ya can't stay on the farm Arthur, you have what, another season in you before you'll have to sell?" Mary called for me from the other side of the fence.
I didn't look back at her as I spoke. "Aye, maybe a bit longer if ah get a good harvest this year." I replied quietly, "less I get a good amount of money in, the farm is as doomed as the rest 'round here."
"I know ya said you'd take care of it, but do ya gotta be so stubborn about it? When was the last time ya even had a full meal, Arthur?" Mary asked, worry in her tone.
I ignored the rumbling in my stomach at her mention of food, but I did finally turn back to look her in the eyes as I spoke. "Ah, have enough to keep me alive, Mary, ah'll have more if the potatoes come through. Ah hope… the city is nice to ya."
She was just one in a long line of people packing up after centuries of working the land to find 'easy employment' in the cities; in a way, you couldn't blame them. Farming was being overtaken by the landlords with all the new laws. But I couldn't just leave what my father and mother left me.
"Goodbye, Arthur," Mary said simply, staring at me a moment before walking down the path.
"Goodbye, Mary," I replied quietly, then turned back to start tossing the seed again.
By the time I finished, it was already well into the evening. The clouds I saw at noon having drifted and come alive around four in the evening to wet the fields and save me from having to do that extra job. It did give me the job of moving the coos into the barn early; however, despite how hungry they can get, no coos in their right mind are going to sit out and eat in a thunderstorm. Still, the barn was locked, and I was sitting down next to the table, watching the rain and thunder come down outside the window.
It was a long day, it was a painful day, and I'll be hurting yet more in the morning, but for now, at least the hardest part is over. Still, my mind couldn't help but think about what Mary was saying before she left; I'm stubborn, yes, but it's wrong for someone to just up and leave their home behind like that.
Not that I can say my own stubbornness is much better; I was just holding on as long as possible until I had to pack up and move. But at least I was putting in the effort. Still, my eyes glanced down to the meager produce from my vegetable garden, and I dropped a piece of the snipe I was eating onto the table. It wasn't much, but it was the food. I had to eat until I could turn a harvest… or figure out something in town, for that matter.
I sighed, then reached for another piece before the world came crashing down around me. A deafening thunderous roar pierced the air, and for a moment, that's what I thought it was, a close lightning strike shaking the earth and piercing my ears… but it was moving. It was followed by a loud crash of shattering wood and a god almighty roar towards the barn's direction. I jumped up, knocking the chair over as I sprinted to the window.
The barn was halfway collapsed and on fire, with the coos running out of the building mooing wildly. The grass was aflame, as new bursts of fire erupting from the building as something struggled within it. Then, I saw it, a long black beast with grey curling horns. It was tangled in the fishing netting I kept in the loft, along with collapsed timber. A wyvern struggling trying to pull itself free and spewing fire all over in its panic.This was not the wyvern of my youth; this one was smaller, sleeker, and far angrier and more panicked.
I leaped through the window and sprinted towards the barn.
The coos were out already, I noted with resignation. The old barn door, a veteran of more battles than I could imagine, was simply too little to stop them from fetching their morning breakfast. The bell on Bonni rang quietly as she leaned down to munch, and I watched the sight quietly. The sun had barely poked over the horizon, marking it as the morning, early morning. Its rays speared through the trees and lit up the hills, and a single word came to mind at the sight.
"Damn." The word came out half a curse, half a yawn that I covered with my hand as I swung my legs over the bed. They hit the cold wooden floor below, and I took a moment to let the temperature change shock, aid in my awakening a moment before standing up fully.
The warm blanket drifted off my shoulders, calling me like a siren back into its embrace, but I ignored it and shuffled out of the bedroom. My feet took me past the pail of water that serves as my bath, but I ignored it, continuing onwards towards the small house's front. It was the first day of planting, and there was no point in trying to clean up right before going elbow deep in dirt, plant, and fertilizer.
I grabbed the clothing hanging from the doorframe, throwing it on as I closed the door behind me and continued, one awkward hop to another, changing as I moved.
The sound of my feet echoed down the narrow hallway, passing by the other empty bedroom and the small closet past it to enter the main room. A small window next to the door was the only thing allowing light into this room, illuminating little more than the dresser below it and the fireplace. The hay-strewn floor crunched underfoot, throwing dust to play in the light cast in the window, which I watched for a few moments before taking a seat at the table. The only food present on it, and in the house for that matter, was a small plate of apples. The spare meat ran out yesterday, along with the vegetables from the spring garden, leaving only a small morsel of salted meat for special occasions and apples. I needed to head into the village at some point to get more… but an apple was enough to start.
I glanced at the empty pantry as I ate, the crunchy apple seeming to almost echo in the silent room... I sigh again, take another bite, and walk out the door. The old wooden door put up a fight, resisting me like my barn should have resisted my coos, still, an application of the shoulder was enough to finally free me.
The transition between the cool interior of the house to the warm August is enough to wake me the rest of the way up, and I lean back against the wall as I look over the fields. Past the old storehouse lies the first of three fields, freshly tilled yesterday and waiting for this year's lot of turnip seeds… hopefully, more successful seeds than last years. My eyes flit from the tilled soil to the buds of green on the far side; the potatoes I planted last month took well. It's a crop I know god-given little about, but I've heard good things at least.
I stepped forward, idly tossing the core of the apple onto the ground as I made my way around the farmhouse and towards the barn. My shoes clicked against the old cobbled stone, the surface cracked from decades of trodding. "Morning, Bonni!" I called out, running my hand along the stone fence that surrounds the field as I went.
The coos ear twitched, and she slowly raised her head towards the sound of my voice before she returned to grazing. "Oooh," I say in disappointment. "That's not a proper mornin' greet is it?"
Dylan mooed in response, his tail flicking behind him as he ate his grass. "Oh see, Dylan gets it. You could learn proper manners from him, Bonni."
Another moo was my only response, this time from William. I grinned and hopped the fence, walking amongst the cops as I moved towards the barn.
My smile dropped as I assessed the damage: the wooden door was broken off its hinges. The thing was old and hurt to start with, but it seems the coos managed to bump it enough to fail completely. A sigh escaped my lips as I ran my hand along the wood; I'd need to prop it up and get it back onto its hinges, lest a whipper drake or the like get into the barn during the night. The little bastards have been trying at that. If the long series of scratches on the wood are anything to go by. No fox or wolf left long singular gouges in wood like that, so one of the forest wyverns was probably getting ideas after my cattle.
I looked out to the west forest and beyond it the city, where more than a few whipper drakes were let loose in the countryside once they got too large to keep around the house. That also meant they went after the local cattle, which was unfortunate since the local polis wouldn't go chasing after them. I just didn't have anywhere near the money to hire a wyvern catcher. I looked between the forest and the scratches on the barn, then to the interior of the barn itself. There was a time when the local farmers could pool their money to deal with such a thing.
But I was the only one who didn't move into the city for work.
It would be another season before I could possibly pay to fix the barn up entirely; if the farm was even around that long. Two bad harvests in a row, on top of more industrial farms easily out-producing me, meant times that were already tough had devolved to the point of complete unsustainability.
But there were seeds to plant. I walked along the barn with another sigh to hoist the large ditty bag of seeds onto my shoulder. It took a bit of adjusting, but soon I could stand up straight under the load and took it back outside. It was a quick walk from the cowpen to the first of the fields. With careful adjustment so that the ditty bag rested underneath my arm, I started to sow the seeds into the tilled soil. It was meticulous work, yet it was something I couldn't help but always enjoy; in due time, with patience and care, I would have made something big from very little. It fascinated me when I saw my father doing it as a child, and it continued to fascinate me as I started the work myself at age six. At the age of twenty, it had never lost the simple magic it possessed, and there was pride in doing what my ancestors had been doing for millennia. Though the thought that I may be the last put a bitter taste in my mou-
My musings were interrupted by a roar, and I looked up from my work to see a shadow moving across the sky. A wyvern, probably twice the size of my house, was flying off towards the city. Ropes or chains attached to its wings' joints were pulled taut, and an airship trailed behind it on those chains. I'd heard about one of those newer designs at the market; a mix of wood and some metal kept from falling completely via balloons. I had no idea how it worked, but it was nothing less than a fascinating sight.
"Oh! That's the new model!" a familiar child's voice ripped me from my appreciation. I looked back past the cow paddock to see little Charlie leaning over my fence and pointing up towards the sky.
His hands were cupped around his right eye like a spyglass, his mouth open as he tried to make out every detail of the airship. "Issit now?" I called out. "New enough that it keeps ya from yer classes, Charlie?"
Charlie's hands dropped, and the boy gave me a pout. "Oh, get off it Arthur, I'm heading there now, aren't I?"
"Nah, yer hanging 'round my paddock now." I replied. "there'll be plenty of talk of airships in the village ah'm sure. 'Less ya want to help me with seedin' again?"
Charlie ran off at that, his shoes kicking up dust as he sprinted down the rough road with his jacket catching the wind behind him. I smiled at the sight, watching him until he went out of sight before returning to my seeding.
It took me a good four hours to finish half the fields; the farm isn't huge, certainly nowhere near as large as the new owners up north. But father's farm was by far the largest in the county, and such a plot of land takes considerable time to seed on one's own… and far longer to plow for that matter.
The roaring never stopped either; the wyvern circled the city for a good long while before landing; it has done three passes since. What was once a rather exciting sight has become a tad more annoying cause the damn thing kept spooking the coos. I placed my hand above my eyes to shade them as I watched it go in for another landing. The coos watching it warily… However, not warily enough to stop eating as it started to make its descent. I had only been near a Wyvern once, a full-sized one anyway, however many years back, when dad took me to a fair out in Glasgow. The damn thing was bigger than the farmhouse and kept a factory alight; dad always told me how honorable they were. Frankly, I didn't know where he'd learn that, but still, something had to be magical about flying up that high.
Course, like every other kid in England, I wanted to own one when I was younger, but the family could barely afford the cattle by that point, let alone a tame wyvern. My arguments about how easily it could pull the plow were ignored. Frankly, now seeing the size of the field as an adult, I'd agree with my father faster than I'd take my own side.
I tossed the remains of the apple I was eating over the fence and made my way over to the coos, Bonni's head-turning up to look at me as I did so. Her head tilted slightly as I approached, her black eyes curious through the mop of long brown hair the breed was known for. "How ya doin' today, Bonni? Dylan been given' ya any troubles?"
Bonni stared at me for a moment before lowering her head to eat more grass. "Well, good ta' hear it," I said glibly, then moved past her towards the other field.
"You talking to the coos again, Arthur?" Mary's voice called out. I turned my head to look at the woman who stopped to lean across my fence near where Charlie did earlier. She was lovely as always, her auburn hair done up enough that it was maintained but loose enough that errant strands hung down in curls over her forehead. She was wearing that brown dress I loved seeing her in.
Not that I was exactly happy to see her. "Ah am," I replied, "da' always spoke of havin' an intelligent conversation. Unless ah'm headin' out to the creek to speak to my reflection, there's hardly none of that 'round."
Mary snorted then hopped the fence, her dress barely clearing the stone as she did so. "Oh, come now, Arthur, ya can't still be mad, can ya? Ya know, I don't get any say in it."
I walked past her towards the field, the ditty bag bouncing at my side as I unlocked the fence and started spreading the seeds once more.
"Arthur!" Mary shouted indignantly. "Ya know I'll write!"
I paused in tossing the seeds, slowly looking up towards the girl… woman. "Like George does? Or Angus? Mabel? Or any of the others who went to the city for work? When was the last time ya heard from any of them?"
A distant crack of thunder sounded out, and I turned my head to see storm clouds forming to the south. Rain would make the day easier, even if it made Mary's words have the wrath of god behind them when she spoke again.
"Ya can't stay on the farm Arthur, you have what, another season in you before you'll have to sell?" Mary called for me from the other side of the fence.
I didn't look back at her as I spoke. "Aye, maybe a bit longer if ah get a good harvest this year." I replied quietly, "less I get a good amount of money in, the farm is as doomed as the rest 'round here."
"I know ya said you'd take care of it, but do ya gotta be so stubborn about it? When was the last time ya even had a full meal, Arthur?" Mary asked, worry in her tone.
I ignored the rumbling in my stomach at her mention of food, but I did finally turn back to look her in the eyes as I spoke. "Ah, have enough to keep me alive, Mary, ah'll have more if the potatoes come through. Ah hope… the city is nice to ya."
She was just one in a long line of people packing up after centuries of working the land to find 'easy employment' in the cities; in a way, you couldn't blame them. Farming was being overtaken by the landlords with all the new laws. But I couldn't just leave what my father and mother left me.
"Goodbye, Arthur," Mary said simply, staring at me a moment before walking down the path.
"Goodbye, Mary," I replied quietly, then turned back to start tossing the seed again.
By the time I finished, it was already well into the evening. The clouds I saw at noon having drifted and come alive around four in the evening to wet the fields and save me from having to do that extra job. It did give me the job of moving the coos into the barn early; however, despite how hungry they can get, no coos in their right mind are going to sit out and eat in a thunderstorm. Still, the barn was locked, and I was sitting down next to the table, watching the rain and thunder come down outside the window.
It was a long day, it was a painful day, and I'll be hurting yet more in the morning, but for now, at least the hardest part is over. Still, my mind couldn't help but think about what Mary was saying before she left; I'm stubborn, yes, but it's wrong for someone to just up and leave their home behind like that.
Not that I can say my own stubbornness is much better; I was just holding on as long as possible until I had to pack up and move. But at least I was putting in the effort. Still, my eyes glanced down to the meager produce from my vegetable garden, and I dropped a piece of the snipe I was eating onto the table. It wasn't much, but it was the food. I had to eat until I could turn a harvest… or figure out something in town, for that matter.
I sighed, then reached for another piece before the world came crashing down around me. A deafening thunderous roar pierced the air, and for a moment, that's what I thought it was, a close lightning strike shaking the earth and piercing my ears… but it was moving. It was followed by a loud crash of shattering wood and a god almighty roar towards the barn's direction. I jumped up, knocking the chair over as I sprinted to the window.
The barn was halfway collapsed and on fire, with the coos running out of the building mooing wildly. The grass was aflame, as new bursts of fire erupting from the building as something struggled within it. Then, I saw it, a long black beast with grey curling horns. It was tangled in the fishing netting I kept in the loft, along with collapsed timber. A wyvern struggling trying to pull itself free and spewing fire all over in its panic.This was not the wyvern of my youth; this one was smaller, sleeker, and far angrier and more panicked.
I leaped through the window and sprinted towards the barn.
- Location
- USA
Do you mean "cows"? Because I see the word "coo" repeated throughout. And, well, with wyverns wandering around, I'm not sure if coos are also fantasy animals that just happen to be real here.
Erien
God's Weakest Soldier
- Location
- Georgia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
You aren't the first to ask!
Behold, the majestic Hielan coo.
Highland cattle - Wikipedia
Chapter 2
Erien
God's Weakest Soldier
- Location
- Georgia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
To say I ran would be an understatement; I sprinted like the devil himself was chasing me as I crossed the yard towards the barn. The coos ran past me, mooing wildly in panic as their home burned behind them. I made the single fastest trip between my home and the barn of my life, and smoke already choked the air by the time I arrived. I covered my mouth with my arm as I looked into the flaming wreckage of the family barn. My hand clasped the edge of the barn door to catch myself as I looked inside, the wood hot to the touch. The beast was in the center of it, roaring terribly, great pillars of flame erupting up from its mouth to turn the already burning ceiling to cinder. It's roar lit up the fields like day as they stretched twenty feet in the air, then it lowered its head, its wings flapping uselessly as it sat in the center under timber and hay.
It was a sleek thing; grey, though painted orange in the flaming light. Two horns jutted out the side of its head, one slightly chipped from the crash, though that was far from the worst of the damage. No, that would be the large plank of timber that had pierced between its chest plating. It flapped wildly, the wooden spear shaking and blood dripping from its mouth. The barn rumbled with the wyvern's rapid breathing when it didn't shake at its roar.
The timber was keeping it from moving let alone flying by the looks of things. I stared at it, watching it thrash in the burning barn for several moments before my instincts took over, my hand reached and grabbed the rope kept near the door, then I ran, one arm covering my mouth for what little good it did as I scrambled through the burning barn to come to a stop near the screeching creature. It's head was thrashing wildly, sending the timber and hay that had stacked on it flying, causing me to duck and dive to the ground as dozens pounds of it came down crashing behind me. Heat washed over me as I crawled forward towards the timber, flame billowing around me and filling the air with the scent of burning coal. The beast was angry and panicked, screaming in pain and frustration as it tried anything and everything to get free. It was like a bull stuck in a fence, it would tear everything apart just to get free, no matter what it had to destroy or how it had to hurt itself in the process.
Luckily for it I had worked with more than one bull before. I slipped the rope around the timber, moving fast to tie a knot with it. "This may hurt a bit!" I shouted, then wrapped the rope around my hand and ran to the side. With a roar of pain and the clattering of lumber the timber bent then slid out of the beast's chest. Slick and red it bounced along the ground behind me, and I dropped the rope and dived out of the way as the wyvern dug the edges of its wings into the ground and charged out of the barn.
The ground shook as it moved, it was too big for the doors, and they along with the frame simply cracked and broke away as it charged through it in pain and panic. The barn shook as well, timbers falling and parts of the loft collapsing as it broke free, and I sprinted into the storm to get away from the collapsing building.
The beast was stumbling through the crash, unsteady and still clearly in pain. As I watched it stumbled a good few feet from the barn, a roar of what I assumed to be frustration and pain escaping its maw before it collapsed forwards onto the grass. The claws on its feet and on the tips of its wings drew rivets in the earth and it scratched at it desperately, trying to stand to no avail.
"Arthur!" a voice called out to me, and I looked to see… George. One of the neighbor farmers, he was half dressed in his evening clothes with his hat held in his hand. His wife wasn't too far behind, and they both came to a stop looking at the burning barn and wyvern with shock.
"We need to get the cattle in the shed," I shouted, "and some buckets for the fire!"
George looked towards the wyvern a moment, then at me, fear plain as god's day on his face.
"It can't damn well move George, but you can so move your ass!"
More people started coming down the way shortly afterwards, either drawn by the deafening roaring of the creature or the flames billowing into the sky I couldn't tell or care. All I did care about was that the village boys got the cattle into the shed while George and the rest of them helped put out what remained of the family barn. There wasn't much left when they were done, the crashing wyvern had already put a damn near irreparable hole in the roof, the fire did the rest. The shed, previously unused, was thankfully enough to shelter the cattle for a while, but there were nowhere near the funds needed to actually rebuild the barn.
---
"Hold it down!" A voice shouted, and I pressed down more firmly on the beast's snout as James ran a rope over the beast's neck to hold it in place. The sound of a hammer and nail sounded out a moment later, and the work was done.
The wyvern was held in place by straps going over the wings, neck, and legs, and it was only until myself and the local rancher got to work on it that I noticed the obvious break in its left leg and what appeared to be a burn mark on the top of its head just between the horns. It wasn't particularly… happy about this arrangement, but it also had little choice in the matter.
I let out a sigh as the work was done and glanced towards the smouldering remains of my barn. If the lack of good crops didn't end the farm, that certainly would. A growl sounded underneath me and I glanced down to meet eye to eye with the wyvern. "Aye, it's your fault. Don't suppose ya have any money do ya?"
It continued glaring at me, not deeming me worthy of growl nor snarl as the villagers start to drift away. More than a few continued to stare at the beast in awe and wonder for some time, but the evening rain saw fit to get rid of them as well in time. Leaving me alone, with an injured wyvern, in the rain. I let out another sigh then run my hands through my soaking wet hair, droplets falling down my face a moment before I look towards the house. There was only one thing to do I supposed.
"Wait here a moment," I said quietly. Then walked into the house and went into the older bedroom. Underneath the old unused bed was a set of thicker winter blankets that I hadn't been using, I grabbed them, tossing them over my shoulder before grabbing some planks by the side of the house I had used in the past to replace broken sections of the roof.
The wyvern watched me as I approached with the bundles, golden eyes unblinking as sputtering tufts of flame lit the grass in front of its snout before the rain put it out. "Aye, ah know yer unhappy, how do ya think ah feel about the whole situation?"
With a grunt I moved the timbers to press together over its head like a triangle, I did the same down its back until I got to the joint of its wings, then I threw the blanket over top of it so the damn thing wasn't getting rain on its head all night. There wasn't a damn thing I could do for the rest of its body, but in mere minutes it had trespassed, vandalised, and arson(ed?) my barn, so it would just have to count its blessings. Once my rain-cover was finally set up I looked it over, it would stop any rain from getting down… if wyverns were even bothered by the rain. None of the villagers knew anything about them, except for the teacher at the school. But I did know how to deal with a wounded and scared animal.
The thick blocks that held the rain from it's head were too unwieldy, so I braved the shed. It took some time to navigate around the coos while finding things I had buried in the place months ago, but I soon had some thinner pieces of wood and some wire. I carried both back to the wyvern, which stared intently from under its blankets. The beast watched me with an intensity that reminded me of a pastor after the boys tried skipping Sunday lessons.
"These," I said, holding up the wire and planks, "are going around yer leg. Any objections?"
It didn't so much as growl, so I slowly and carefully walked around the side of the beast until I was out of sight. I stepped over the joint of the wings, then kneeled down to take a closer look. The leg was bent slightly, more to the left than the right limb. It was thicker than a cow's leg by half, and from the looks of the scales it seemed to be more than a little harder to move as well. But it was straight enough in places to get a splint on. I placed my hand slowly and gently on the leg, only for a loud growl to sound out and it's tail to tug against the bindings holding it to the grass.
"Calm down boy… girl, thing. Calm yerself. Ah ain't gonna hurt ya." The leg jerked from underneath my hand as I inspected the damage, the beast uncomfortably trying to get away as I looked over the injury. I didn't know anything about wyvern anatomy, but a broken leg was a broken leg. "Right, ah'm gonna get this splinted, if ya try to kick me ya can splint yer own damn leg." Despite the words I said them quietly and calmly, doing my best to keep it at least somewhat calm despite its planic. Wyverns are said to be smart, let's see if that holds true.
I grabbed the leg and pushed my weight against it. The bone moved back with a loud pop, and the wyvern's muscles clenched beneath me. A deafening roar came out a moment later, my ears rang as it reared back its head as far as it could. A gout of fire burst from its mouth; a sputtering, breathless thing. I worked quickly, placing the wood on either side of it and tightening the wire around it, and despite the pain it did not kick, holding the limb as still as possible as I worked. A minute later it was done, two pieces of timber sat getting progressively wetter in the rain as they held the joint in the proper place. "Now see, that wasn't so hard was it?"
My head then turned from it to the wound on its chest... to my surprise, it had scabbed over already, where before there had been fresh blood, now it was all dried, the wound was still there, an angry pink scab behind the armor plate that rippled unnaturally with every breath the beast took… but it wasn't bleeding anywhere that I could see. I nod, looking it over one final time before moving around to its head again… slightly to the side so that the beast couldn't set me on fire. "Right, you get some rest, just roar if ya need my attention for something aye?"
I got no response, and with that I nodded and went back to the house.
Despite the excitement of the evening, sleep wasn't hard to find.
---
The next morning was normal, in that it took me glancing outside the window in the kitchen to recall that there was a wyvern on the field. It was staring at me as well, golden eyes watching the house. They glowed at that, the sun wasn't even out yet but those eyes were bright and visible even in the darkness.
Right, that was something to deal with. I rummaged through the pantry for a moment before wandering over the shed to let the cows out. The cows, despite the giant predator barely a dozen feet away from them, cared little more than enough to not chew next to its head. I had to usher the stupid things into a field that didn't have a fire hazard in it before I wandered over to the beast itself.
It growled as I approached, and I quirked a brow. "Ah don't speak that language, but ah do bring breakfast if yer feeling peckish."
I tossed what I retrieved from the pantry forward, some beef… and not a lot at that. It was salted and preserved for a special occasion, though I doubted it would be willing to eat the grass, not like I was going to get that dinner with Mary in any case. The chunk bounced on the grass before it stopped just to the left of its snout.
The wyvern sniffed audibly, nostrils flaring as it turned its head towards the beef. It stared at it warily for a few moments before it opened its mouth wide, revealing a long forked tongue and many teeth. The mouth clamped down onto the meat with a crunch when a voice called out from behind me.
"Oh my, so it's true then." The voice was kind and old, a voice that I had grown to know quite well in my childhood.
I turned my head back to see a man hunched over a cane next to the front fence. McDunnough, the local teacher, formerly a wyvern rider, so he used to tell you anyways. With speed that was at odds with both the cane and his age he got the gate open and walked through the fields towards the beast currently enjoying breakfast. He came to a stop just next to the tent, having moved very slowly and deliberately once he got to within a good dozen feet of the creature as the man knew what he was doing, his eyes looking up and down the wyvern before meeting my own.
"A rare specimen Arthur; you found a skyracer."
I met his gaze and nodded. "Right, lets just pretend ah don't know what that is an' ya tell me?"
McDunnough adjusted his spectacles before he talked, large heavy things that seem more at odds with his vision than for it. "Sleek wyvern, comes from the Caucasus."
"The what?"
The teacher sighed, "from the Russian Empire, it's a wyvern that lives amongst the mountains, normally."
"Nearest mountain to here is Merrick," I gestured towards the barn. "Unless the barn is high'r than ah thought ah think the beast was a bit lost."
"Yes… what happened exactly?"
The explanation didn't take long, and by the time I finished McDunnough had kneeled down to get a closer look at the creature. "That wound there, just below the chest plate. The wyvern has pierced the flight sac, it will take time to heal before it can fly again."
"Ah didn't notice much flyin' from it, mostly crashin' and then tryin' to run with ah broken leg. Damn thing made a mess."
McDunnough let out a breath then stood up. "I would imagine it is from the London area, that's a brand mark between its horns."
I turned my head towards the 'burn' I noticed early, and in the early morning light I can more easily make out what seems to be the symbol of a crown in a circle imprinted onto its scales. "What, someone keepin' it as a pet?"
"Possible," McDunnough replied. "More likely due to the breed it was used for racing or the fighting arena. It's a good and strong breed for that."
"Heard there's good money in that."
McDunnough nodded and turned to face me fully. "There can be, I can send a message to a friend I still have in Glasgow, get it some food and help get the owner identified."
"Thank you sir, much appreciated." I said sincerely, and with that McDunnough walked back towards the fence and out of sight.
The arenas of London were places of fantasy: where wyverns raced, fought, and generally competed for glory and wealth. I stared down the road where McDunnough went, then looked back towards the wyvern that just finished eating the last of the meat I had scrounged from my pantry.
… Perhaps.
It was a sleek thing; grey, though painted orange in the flaming light. Two horns jutted out the side of its head, one slightly chipped from the crash, though that was far from the worst of the damage. No, that would be the large plank of timber that had pierced between its chest plating. It flapped wildly, the wooden spear shaking and blood dripping from its mouth. The barn rumbled with the wyvern's rapid breathing when it didn't shake at its roar.
The timber was keeping it from moving let alone flying by the looks of things. I stared at it, watching it thrash in the burning barn for several moments before my instincts took over, my hand reached and grabbed the rope kept near the door, then I ran, one arm covering my mouth for what little good it did as I scrambled through the burning barn to come to a stop near the screeching creature. It's head was thrashing wildly, sending the timber and hay that had stacked on it flying, causing me to duck and dive to the ground as dozens pounds of it came down crashing behind me. Heat washed over me as I crawled forward towards the timber, flame billowing around me and filling the air with the scent of burning coal. The beast was angry and panicked, screaming in pain and frustration as it tried anything and everything to get free. It was like a bull stuck in a fence, it would tear everything apart just to get free, no matter what it had to destroy or how it had to hurt itself in the process.
Luckily for it I had worked with more than one bull before. I slipped the rope around the timber, moving fast to tie a knot with it. "This may hurt a bit!" I shouted, then wrapped the rope around my hand and ran to the side. With a roar of pain and the clattering of lumber the timber bent then slid out of the beast's chest. Slick and red it bounced along the ground behind me, and I dropped the rope and dived out of the way as the wyvern dug the edges of its wings into the ground and charged out of the barn.
The ground shook as it moved, it was too big for the doors, and they along with the frame simply cracked and broke away as it charged through it in pain and panic. The barn shook as well, timbers falling and parts of the loft collapsing as it broke free, and I sprinted into the storm to get away from the collapsing building.
The beast was stumbling through the crash, unsteady and still clearly in pain. As I watched it stumbled a good few feet from the barn, a roar of what I assumed to be frustration and pain escaping its maw before it collapsed forwards onto the grass. The claws on its feet and on the tips of its wings drew rivets in the earth and it scratched at it desperately, trying to stand to no avail.
"Arthur!" a voice called out to me, and I looked to see… George. One of the neighbor farmers, he was half dressed in his evening clothes with his hat held in his hand. His wife wasn't too far behind, and they both came to a stop looking at the burning barn and wyvern with shock.
"We need to get the cattle in the shed," I shouted, "and some buckets for the fire!"
George looked towards the wyvern a moment, then at me, fear plain as god's day on his face.
"It can't damn well move George, but you can so move your ass!"
More people started coming down the way shortly afterwards, either drawn by the deafening roaring of the creature or the flames billowing into the sky I couldn't tell or care. All I did care about was that the village boys got the cattle into the shed while George and the rest of them helped put out what remained of the family barn. There wasn't much left when they were done, the crashing wyvern had already put a damn near irreparable hole in the roof, the fire did the rest. The shed, previously unused, was thankfully enough to shelter the cattle for a while, but there were nowhere near the funds needed to actually rebuild the barn.
---
"Hold it down!" A voice shouted, and I pressed down more firmly on the beast's snout as James ran a rope over the beast's neck to hold it in place. The sound of a hammer and nail sounded out a moment later, and the work was done.
The wyvern was held in place by straps going over the wings, neck, and legs, and it was only until myself and the local rancher got to work on it that I noticed the obvious break in its left leg and what appeared to be a burn mark on the top of its head just between the horns. It wasn't particularly… happy about this arrangement, but it also had little choice in the matter.
I let out a sigh as the work was done and glanced towards the smouldering remains of my barn. If the lack of good crops didn't end the farm, that certainly would. A growl sounded underneath me and I glanced down to meet eye to eye with the wyvern. "Aye, it's your fault. Don't suppose ya have any money do ya?"
It continued glaring at me, not deeming me worthy of growl nor snarl as the villagers start to drift away. More than a few continued to stare at the beast in awe and wonder for some time, but the evening rain saw fit to get rid of them as well in time. Leaving me alone, with an injured wyvern, in the rain. I let out another sigh then run my hands through my soaking wet hair, droplets falling down my face a moment before I look towards the house. There was only one thing to do I supposed.
"Wait here a moment," I said quietly. Then walked into the house and went into the older bedroom. Underneath the old unused bed was a set of thicker winter blankets that I hadn't been using, I grabbed them, tossing them over my shoulder before grabbing some planks by the side of the house I had used in the past to replace broken sections of the roof.
The wyvern watched me as I approached with the bundles, golden eyes unblinking as sputtering tufts of flame lit the grass in front of its snout before the rain put it out. "Aye, ah know yer unhappy, how do ya think ah feel about the whole situation?"
With a grunt I moved the timbers to press together over its head like a triangle, I did the same down its back until I got to the joint of its wings, then I threw the blanket over top of it so the damn thing wasn't getting rain on its head all night. There wasn't a damn thing I could do for the rest of its body, but in mere minutes it had trespassed, vandalised, and arson(ed?) my barn, so it would just have to count its blessings. Once my rain-cover was finally set up I looked it over, it would stop any rain from getting down… if wyverns were even bothered by the rain. None of the villagers knew anything about them, except for the teacher at the school. But I did know how to deal with a wounded and scared animal.
The thick blocks that held the rain from it's head were too unwieldy, so I braved the shed. It took some time to navigate around the coos while finding things I had buried in the place months ago, but I soon had some thinner pieces of wood and some wire. I carried both back to the wyvern, which stared intently from under its blankets. The beast watched me with an intensity that reminded me of a pastor after the boys tried skipping Sunday lessons.
"These," I said, holding up the wire and planks, "are going around yer leg. Any objections?"
It didn't so much as growl, so I slowly and carefully walked around the side of the beast until I was out of sight. I stepped over the joint of the wings, then kneeled down to take a closer look. The leg was bent slightly, more to the left than the right limb. It was thicker than a cow's leg by half, and from the looks of the scales it seemed to be more than a little harder to move as well. But it was straight enough in places to get a splint on. I placed my hand slowly and gently on the leg, only for a loud growl to sound out and it's tail to tug against the bindings holding it to the grass.
"Calm down boy… girl, thing. Calm yerself. Ah ain't gonna hurt ya." The leg jerked from underneath my hand as I inspected the damage, the beast uncomfortably trying to get away as I looked over the injury. I didn't know anything about wyvern anatomy, but a broken leg was a broken leg. "Right, ah'm gonna get this splinted, if ya try to kick me ya can splint yer own damn leg." Despite the words I said them quietly and calmly, doing my best to keep it at least somewhat calm despite its planic. Wyverns are said to be smart, let's see if that holds true.
I grabbed the leg and pushed my weight against it. The bone moved back with a loud pop, and the wyvern's muscles clenched beneath me. A deafening roar came out a moment later, my ears rang as it reared back its head as far as it could. A gout of fire burst from its mouth; a sputtering, breathless thing. I worked quickly, placing the wood on either side of it and tightening the wire around it, and despite the pain it did not kick, holding the limb as still as possible as I worked. A minute later it was done, two pieces of timber sat getting progressively wetter in the rain as they held the joint in the proper place. "Now see, that wasn't so hard was it?"
My head then turned from it to the wound on its chest... to my surprise, it had scabbed over already, where before there had been fresh blood, now it was all dried, the wound was still there, an angry pink scab behind the armor plate that rippled unnaturally with every breath the beast took… but it wasn't bleeding anywhere that I could see. I nod, looking it over one final time before moving around to its head again… slightly to the side so that the beast couldn't set me on fire. "Right, you get some rest, just roar if ya need my attention for something aye?"
I got no response, and with that I nodded and went back to the house.
Despite the excitement of the evening, sleep wasn't hard to find.
---
The next morning was normal, in that it took me glancing outside the window in the kitchen to recall that there was a wyvern on the field. It was staring at me as well, golden eyes watching the house. They glowed at that, the sun wasn't even out yet but those eyes were bright and visible even in the darkness.
Right, that was something to deal with. I rummaged through the pantry for a moment before wandering over the shed to let the cows out. The cows, despite the giant predator barely a dozen feet away from them, cared little more than enough to not chew next to its head. I had to usher the stupid things into a field that didn't have a fire hazard in it before I wandered over to the beast itself.
It growled as I approached, and I quirked a brow. "Ah don't speak that language, but ah do bring breakfast if yer feeling peckish."
I tossed what I retrieved from the pantry forward, some beef… and not a lot at that. It was salted and preserved for a special occasion, though I doubted it would be willing to eat the grass, not like I was going to get that dinner with Mary in any case. The chunk bounced on the grass before it stopped just to the left of its snout.
The wyvern sniffed audibly, nostrils flaring as it turned its head towards the beef. It stared at it warily for a few moments before it opened its mouth wide, revealing a long forked tongue and many teeth. The mouth clamped down onto the meat with a crunch when a voice called out from behind me.
"Oh my, so it's true then." The voice was kind and old, a voice that I had grown to know quite well in my childhood.
I turned my head back to see a man hunched over a cane next to the front fence. McDunnough, the local teacher, formerly a wyvern rider, so he used to tell you anyways. With speed that was at odds with both the cane and his age he got the gate open and walked through the fields towards the beast currently enjoying breakfast. He came to a stop just next to the tent, having moved very slowly and deliberately once he got to within a good dozen feet of the creature as the man knew what he was doing, his eyes looking up and down the wyvern before meeting my own.
"A rare specimen Arthur; you found a skyracer."
I met his gaze and nodded. "Right, lets just pretend ah don't know what that is an' ya tell me?"
McDunnough adjusted his spectacles before he talked, large heavy things that seem more at odds with his vision than for it. "Sleek wyvern, comes from the Caucasus."
"The what?"
The teacher sighed, "from the Russian Empire, it's a wyvern that lives amongst the mountains, normally."
"Nearest mountain to here is Merrick," I gestured towards the barn. "Unless the barn is high'r than ah thought ah think the beast was a bit lost."
"Yes… what happened exactly?"
The explanation didn't take long, and by the time I finished McDunnough had kneeled down to get a closer look at the creature. "That wound there, just below the chest plate. The wyvern has pierced the flight sac, it will take time to heal before it can fly again."
"Ah didn't notice much flyin' from it, mostly crashin' and then tryin' to run with ah broken leg. Damn thing made a mess."
McDunnough let out a breath then stood up. "I would imagine it is from the London area, that's a brand mark between its horns."
I turned my head towards the 'burn' I noticed early, and in the early morning light I can more easily make out what seems to be the symbol of a crown in a circle imprinted onto its scales. "What, someone keepin' it as a pet?"
"Possible," McDunnough replied. "More likely due to the breed it was used for racing or the fighting arena. It's a good and strong breed for that."
"Heard there's good money in that."
McDunnough nodded and turned to face me fully. "There can be, I can send a message to a friend I still have in Glasgow, get it some food and help get the owner identified."
"Thank you sir, much appreciated." I said sincerely, and with that McDunnough walked back towards the fence and out of sight.
The arenas of London were places of fantasy: where wyverns raced, fought, and generally competed for glory and wealth. I stared down the road where McDunnough went, then looked back towards the wyvern that just finished eating the last of the meat I had scrounged from my pantry.
… Perhaps.
Chapter 3
Erien
God's Weakest Soldier
- Location
- Georgia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Thanks to Armoury for the beta!
---
The next several days were long to say the least, and not only due to the fact that I had to keep chasing kids off the farms that wanted to try and pet the wyvern. No. I had been thinking, and since McDunnough left I had been doing precious little else besides.
The scratch of the pen drew me back from my thoughts. My hand had been working through the arithmetic even if my brain hadn't been focused. I glanced down at the page to look over my handiwork and smiled, I didn't remember much of my shoulder beyond the basics… and even then what was offered to me wasn't much. Not that I minded, whenever I wasn't in school I was working on the farm, and I much preferred working on the farm to reading any books.
But I did have a talent for arithmetic. If I didn't the farm wouldn't have lasted near as long as it did after my parents passed. Course, this year it wouldn't have done much in the way of good, the money was so tight it didn't matter how I moved the numbers around… but now there is possibly another option. With the cattle sold I could have gotten close to one-hundred-fifty pound, a rather princely sum all things considered.
Course, that much could get a man started just about anywhere… for a time at least. Sure I could afford a house, but I didn't have the skills necessary to pay for it long term. At least, not unless the little plan in the back of my mind actually came to fruition. With a sigh I set down the quill and stretched my arms over my head, several loud pops echoing through the old stone building before I went limp, falling back into my chair and glancing out the window. It was enough money to go to Australia or America, though neither were particularly appealing, but the week since McDunnough sent his letter had given me plenty of time to plan.
I scanned the fields a moment before settling on the former coo pen. There were no coos in it, though that was less due to them being wary of the beast currently residing within and more that I would not let the wyvern take any chances. The beast hadn't actually made any moves towards them since it arrived, and I'm not sure whether that was due to it not particularly being interested in going after them, or just that the lazy bastard was quite pleased with being fed twice a day.
All I knew was what I could see of it: it's tail sliding over the grass, the beast laying on its back and basking in the sun. I let it out of its restraints two days ago, mostly because leaving the poor thing in the restraints for much longer would be cruel, and I never saw much point in being mean to god's creatures. Even the coos lived a comfy life before I sent them to the market, and I made sure to make things quick and painless at the end.
Honestly, I half expected the bastard to bolt and break through the fence to get into the woods, but instead the wyvern had merely stared at me a bit before taking a long limping walk 'round the pen. The wyvern was either smart and recognized I had been trying to help it, or it realized it was in no shape to get away. In either case it had been relaxing ever since, only bothering to really get active whenever I brought food. Course that's just during the day: last night I found the corpse of a formerly adventurous whipper drake in there. To say the runt lost the fight would be perhaps putting it mildly.
Course, just because it was docile didn't mean it was safe; the damn thing nearly took my head off when I approached it from behind quietly. Since then I had been treating it like a horse, moving slowly and making sure it knew of my presence whenever I got close to it. The 'myth' had died for me rather harshly these past few days, the wyvern was, in the end, just another animal… thought it was certainly a powerful one. I watched it as it lounged on the grass, it twisted slightly to adjust itself, and I could see muscle shifting underneath hide as its powerful frame took on the desired position. Every ounce of the beast exuded strength, which is a rather odd thing when one considers it weighed less than the majority of the coos.
'Hollow-boned' was the term I think McDunnough used, something about how it's body forms to make it easier for it to attain flight. Frankly I never remembered any biology I didn't need to take care of the animals… and it certainly wouldn't be flying anytime soon in any case. The wound on its chest healed rapidly, as did the leg, but according to McDunnough the sac full of gas lodged in its chest would take a good while longer to fix itself. I could fix sheep, coos, horses, goats, and ram, but damn if I knew the first things about wyverns and no local stores carried books about wyvern husbandry. I checked.
Still, I consoled myself, I could only learn as I went. I leant back in my seat to look out the front door towards the coos. They cared little for the change in housing or the fact that they had a new neighbor. Once the shed was filled with hay to sleep on they continued on their lives with little in the way of fussing. I watched as Dylan lifted his head from the grass, tufts of green sticking out of his mouth as he turned to look back down the road. My eyes flicked from the coo to the road as well, just in time to see what it was that had attracted Dylan's interest.
A carriage was making its way down the road, bouncing slightly as the wheels caught every divot and rough patch along the way. Two strong black horses pulled it along, guided by a coach driver sitting on the front bench. Red curtains were drawn open on the interior windows, though the angle didn't allow me to actually see inside. I heard the carriage a moment later, the clacking of wood as it sped along doing well to let anyone and everyone know that someone important (or at least rich) was coming.
Course the point was rather moot, since I was the only one around for a mile in any direction. I watched it round the road, then blinked in surprise as it started to slow down… then came to a stop just at the gate of my property. The drivers hopped off the bench and landed in the mud, taking rather exaggerated steps as he made his way around the side to open the door to the carriage. A man stepped out first, my eyes widened as I took him in. From the black frock coat he was wearing to the silver cane he was holding the man clearly had some form of wealth. I watched as he turned around to help out a woman, she was dressed in the same form of frock he was, though while he settled for some form of black cotton pants she was wearing a bright red twilled skirt. Both were more than likely in their mid thirties by my estimation, and I watched as they rather smartly stepped over the deeper patches of mud to make their way to my gate.
… Right. I slicked back my hair as best I could before I stepped outside, one hand idly brushing off bits of dirt from my suspenders as I made my way down the hill towards the front of the property. At my approach the man raised his hand in greeting, the other cupping around his mouth as he shouted. "Is this the Adair residence?"
There was a bit of stutter to my step before I continued. The man was English, not Scottish. No matter, just not what I ex-. Actually dressed like that, nevermind.
"Aye, it is." I replied, making my way down to the gate before stopping just in front of him. "Yer speaking to Arthur Adair." I said, moving to unlock the gate as I did so.
The man extended a hand the moment the gate was opened, and I was slightly surprised by the strength of his grip as he shook my own. "Crawford Bailey," the man said, his blue eyes gleaming with excitement in the early morning light. He then jerked towards the side to draw attention to the woman standing just to his rear and left. "The missus Bailey."
"Ma'am." I said politely, lowering my hand from the shake as I turned my full focus back onto Crawford. "How can ah help ya?"
"McDunnough sent for me." Crawford said, then grinned and stepped past me, his shoes sinking in the mud… not that he seemingly cared as he made his way up the hill into my property. The missus followed quickly after, and I was left staring after them both for several moments before my brain caught up with my legs and I was chasing after.
He disappeared around the corner of the barn, a loud excited cheer sounding out a moment later. It took me rounding the corner of the house myself a second later to see why, Crawford was clapping his hands together with a smile of childlike glee on his face.
"A Caucus Skyracer!" his shout carried over the hills, and it didn't take more than the sound of confused mooing behind you to tell that his shout had drawn Dylan and the rest's attention.
"Oh my," the missus uttered quietly, one hand moving to cover her mouth as she looked over the 'majestic' beast.
"Particularly rare?" I asked, raising my voice to get Crawford's attention.
"Oh, no at all." Crawford looked back at me, not losing the grin as he did so. "Downright common in the right places in fact, but it is rare in England. Most can't seem to adapt to the warmer climate."
I turned your head from Crawford to look at the beast. The wyvern was still laying on its back, with its wings spread out to catch as much sunlight as it could, though the wyvern had turned its head slightly to watch all of me with one eye.
"Really now?" I said after a few pregnant moments.
Crawford didn't respond to the question, instead the man moved around the side of the paddock, alternating between crouching down low and standing on the tips of his toes as he looked the wyvern over. The beast watched him for a time, before losing interest it closed its eyes again and went back to enjoying the sun.
A rather traitorous sight, the creature has been damn skittish, I'd learned rather quickly that it let out little juts of flame whenever it felt threatened or scared by something. My old pair of now burnt boots learned that lesson as well. Crawford however has no such issues.
"The brand is… unknown to me, but see here?" Crawford gestured to the top of the brand: a crown insignia. "Definitely of london." He nodded, finally kneeling down to get a closer look through the fence. "I can take some sketches and send it back to see if some contacts of mine can find a match."
"Do ah have to give it back?"
Crawford stared at the wyvern a moment longer before turning to look at me. "Of course," then he smiled again. "Growing fond of it?"
"Not particularly," I replied honestly. "Just was curious… would it be alright if I just took it to London myself to give it to the owner?"
Crawford stared at me, and I watched as he pressed his hands against his knees to stand himself up. "Whatever for?"
I shrugged. "Maybe this rich guy needs someone to take care of the wyvern? Looks like the last guy weren't too good at it in any case: there's scuff marks on its ankles from cuffs, and least from what ah can reckon those scratches around the joints of the wings sure look like it was bound."
Crawford blinked in surprise then looked back at the beast, one hand moving to his chin as he looked towards the spots I pointed out. "It isn't particularly uncommon, the marks that is. London is a… crowded city, keeping a wyvern takes considerable effort." He then looked back at me, the hand that was on his chin moving to press his cane into the ground. "I have brought food for the wyvern, if you wished to leave for London I would recommend taking the train from Glasgow."
I smiled.
---
The next several days were long to say the least, and not only due to the fact that I had to keep chasing kids off the farms that wanted to try and pet the wyvern. No. I had been thinking, and since McDunnough left I had been doing precious little else besides.
The scratch of the pen drew me back from my thoughts. My hand had been working through the arithmetic even if my brain hadn't been focused. I glanced down at the page to look over my handiwork and smiled, I didn't remember much of my shoulder beyond the basics… and even then what was offered to me wasn't much. Not that I minded, whenever I wasn't in school I was working on the farm, and I much preferred working on the farm to reading any books.
But I did have a talent for arithmetic. If I didn't the farm wouldn't have lasted near as long as it did after my parents passed. Course, this year it wouldn't have done much in the way of good, the money was so tight it didn't matter how I moved the numbers around… but now there is possibly another option. With the cattle sold I could have gotten close to one-hundred-fifty pound, a rather princely sum all things considered.
Course, that much could get a man started just about anywhere… for a time at least. Sure I could afford a house, but I didn't have the skills necessary to pay for it long term. At least, not unless the little plan in the back of my mind actually came to fruition. With a sigh I set down the quill and stretched my arms over my head, several loud pops echoing through the old stone building before I went limp, falling back into my chair and glancing out the window. It was enough money to go to Australia or America, though neither were particularly appealing, but the week since McDunnough sent his letter had given me plenty of time to plan.
I scanned the fields a moment before settling on the former coo pen. There were no coos in it, though that was less due to them being wary of the beast currently residing within and more that I would not let the wyvern take any chances. The beast hadn't actually made any moves towards them since it arrived, and I'm not sure whether that was due to it not particularly being interested in going after them, or just that the lazy bastard was quite pleased with being fed twice a day.
All I knew was what I could see of it: it's tail sliding over the grass, the beast laying on its back and basking in the sun. I let it out of its restraints two days ago, mostly because leaving the poor thing in the restraints for much longer would be cruel, and I never saw much point in being mean to god's creatures. Even the coos lived a comfy life before I sent them to the market, and I made sure to make things quick and painless at the end.
Honestly, I half expected the bastard to bolt and break through the fence to get into the woods, but instead the wyvern had merely stared at me a bit before taking a long limping walk 'round the pen. The wyvern was either smart and recognized I had been trying to help it, or it realized it was in no shape to get away. In either case it had been relaxing ever since, only bothering to really get active whenever I brought food. Course that's just during the day: last night I found the corpse of a formerly adventurous whipper drake in there. To say the runt lost the fight would be perhaps putting it mildly.
Course, just because it was docile didn't mean it was safe; the damn thing nearly took my head off when I approached it from behind quietly. Since then I had been treating it like a horse, moving slowly and making sure it knew of my presence whenever I got close to it. The 'myth' had died for me rather harshly these past few days, the wyvern was, in the end, just another animal… thought it was certainly a powerful one. I watched it as it lounged on the grass, it twisted slightly to adjust itself, and I could see muscle shifting underneath hide as its powerful frame took on the desired position. Every ounce of the beast exuded strength, which is a rather odd thing when one considers it weighed less than the majority of the coos.
'Hollow-boned' was the term I think McDunnough used, something about how it's body forms to make it easier for it to attain flight. Frankly I never remembered any biology I didn't need to take care of the animals… and it certainly wouldn't be flying anytime soon in any case. The wound on its chest healed rapidly, as did the leg, but according to McDunnough the sac full of gas lodged in its chest would take a good while longer to fix itself. I could fix sheep, coos, horses, goats, and ram, but damn if I knew the first things about wyverns and no local stores carried books about wyvern husbandry. I checked.
Still, I consoled myself, I could only learn as I went. I leant back in my seat to look out the front door towards the coos. They cared little for the change in housing or the fact that they had a new neighbor. Once the shed was filled with hay to sleep on they continued on their lives with little in the way of fussing. I watched as Dylan lifted his head from the grass, tufts of green sticking out of his mouth as he turned to look back down the road. My eyes flicked from the coo to the road as well, just in time to see what it was that had attracted Dylan's interest.
A carriage was making its way down the road, bouncing slightly as the wheels caught every divot and rough patch along the way. Two strong black horses pulled it along, guided by a coach driver sitting on the front bench. Red curtains were drawn open on the interior windows, though the angle didn't allow me to actually see inside. I heard the carriage a moment later, the clacking of wood as it sped along doing well to let anyone and everyone know that someone important (or at least rich) was coming.
Course the point was rather moot, since I was the only one around for a mile in any direction. I watched it round the road, then blinked in surprise as it started to slow down… then came to a stop just at the gate of my property. The drivers hopped off the bench and landed in the mud, taking rather exaggerated steps as he made his way around the side to open the door to the carriage. A man stepped out first, my eyes widened as I took him in. From the black frock coat he was wearing to the silver cane he was holding the man clearly had some form of wealth. I watched as he turned around to help out a woman, she was dressed in the same form of frock he was, though while he settled for some form of black cotton pants she was wearing a bright red twilled skirt. Both were more than likely in their mid thirties by my estimation, and I watched as they rather smartly stepped over the deeper patches of mud to make their way to my gate.
… Right. I slicked back my hair as best I could before I stepped outside, one hand idly brushing off bits of dirt from my suspenders as I made my way down the hill towards the front of the property. At my approach the man raised his hand in greeting, the other cupping around his mouth as he shouted. "Is this the Adair residence?"
There was a bit of stutter to my step before I continued. The man was English, not Scottish. No matter, just not what I ex-. Actually dressed like that, nevermind.
"Aye, it is." I replied, making my way down to the gate before stopping just in front of him. "Yer speaking to Arthur Adair." I said, moving to unlock the gate as I did so.
The man extended a hand the moment the gate was opened, and I was slightly surprised by the strength of his grip as he shook my own. "Crawford Bailey," the man said, his blue eyes gleaming with excitement in the early morning light. He then jerked towards the side to draw attention to the woman standing just to his rear and left. "The missus Bailey."
"Ma'am." I said politely, lowering my hand from the shake as I turned my full focus back onto Crawford. "How can ah help ya?"
"McDunnough sent for me." Crawford said, then grinned and stepped past me, his shoes sinking in the mud… not that he seemingly cared as he made his way up the hill into my property. The missus followed quickly after, and I was left staring after them both for several moments before my brain caught up with my legs and I was chasing after.
He disappeared around the corner of the barn, a loud excited cheer sounding out a moment later. It took me rounding the corner of the house myself a second later to see why, Crawford was clapping his hands together with a smile of childlike glee on his face.
"A Caucus Skyracer!" his shout carried over the hills, and it didn't take more than the sound of confused mooing behind you to tell that his shout had drawn Dylan and the rest's attention.
"Oh my," the missus uttered quietly, one hand moving to cover her mouth as she looked over the 'majestic' beast.
"Particularly rare?" I asked, raising my voice to get Crawford's attention.
"Oh, no at all." Crawford looked back at me, not losing the grin as he did so. "Downright common in the right places in fact, but it is rare in England. Most can't seem to adapt to the warmer climate."
I turned your head from Crawford to look at the beast. The wyvern was still laying on its back, with its wings spread out to catch as much sunlight as it could, though the wyvern had turned its head slightly to watch all of me with one eye.
"Really now?" I said after a few pregnant moments.
Crawford didn't respond to the question, instead the man moved around the side of the paddock, alternating between crouching down low and standing on the tips of his toes as he looked the wyvern over. The beast watched him for a time, before losing interest it closed its eyes again and went back to enjoying the sun.
A rather traitorous sight, the creature has been damn skittish, I'd learned rather quickly that it let out little juts of flame whenever it felt threatened or scared by something. My old pair of now burnt boots learned that lesson as well. Crawford however has no such issues.
"The brand is… unknown to me, but see here?" Crawford gestured to the top of the brand: a crown insignia. "Definitely of london." He nodded, finally kneeling down to get a closer look through the fence. "I can take some sketches and send it back to see if some contacts of mine can find a match."
"Do ah have to give it back?"
Crawford stared at the wyvern a moment longer before turning to look at me. "Of course," then he smiled again. "Growing fond of it?"
"Not particularly," I replied honestly. "Just was curious… would it be alright if I just took it to London myself to give it to the owner?"
Crawford stared at me, and I watched as he pressed his hands against his knees to stand himself up. "Whatever for?"
I shrugged. "Maybe this rich guy needs someone to take care of the wyvern? Looks like the last guy weren't too good at it in any case: there's scuff marks on its ankles from cuffs, and least from what ah can reckon those scratches around the joints of the wings sure look like it was bound."
Crawford blinked in surprise then looked back at the beast, one hand moving to his chin as he looked towards the spots I pointed out. "It isn't particularly uncommon, the marks that is. London is a… crowded city, keeping a wyvern takes considerable effort." He then looked back at me, the hand that was on his chin moving to press his cane into the ground. "I have brought food for the wyvern, if you wished to leave for London I would recommend taking the train from Glasgow."
I smiled.
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Chapter 4
Erien
God's Weakest Soldier
- Location
- Georgia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Thanks to Armoury for the beta!
---
My plate was slightly fuller than normal as I ate breakfast the next morning, that was in part due to me not having to stockpile food for later anymore… and that I might as well enjoy a few breakfasts beyond just eating apples. God above knows that I may not be seeing this farm again for some time if the plan goes well.
… Well, to be honest to call it a plan is perhaps a bit weak. More of a desperate idea brought on by a wyvern crashing into my barn. The thought of finding the owner to seek reparation was briefly on my mind before I thought better of it, I don't have the means to support my case… and it would hit the finances I barely have to begin with to hire one of those traveling lawmen. Course, if I won the prosecutor would be paid for, but I couldn't justify the risk to begin with. Besides, the barn isn't worth the effort for a failing farm to begin with.
No, due to that there is no saving the farm, at the time being. If I played my cards right I could get a nice payout in London from whoever owned this beast and save up money to rebuild the barn and expand the farm itself… maybe hire some helpers while I'm at it. My lips turned up at the thought, little better than the ranchers. But I didn't have a family to support anymore, and I didn't plan on getting one anytime soon for that matter, so might as well use the situation that god has given me to my best advantage. If there was one thing I was capable of doing on this earth it was rearing animals, and if they are so bad at it in London that one can go crashing into my barn like a lightning strike then I have a chance at a good line of work.
It still left a bad taste in my mouth to have to abandon the farm in such a way, but I'm not so stubborn that I won't seek another option to save it. I took another bite of the jerky I was eating then glanced out the window towards the 'wyvern pen'. The beast had taken up its favorite spot, that being the corner near the fences so that it could watch the distant forest while the small wooden posts 'defend it' from the back. Course it could take whatever position it wanted, the thing had made a mess of several pests that had been skulking around the farm recently.
The beast had settled in rather comfortable, a species that had a 'unique, solitary but loyal temperament.' Per what Crawford told me anyways, I still wasn't sure quite what to make of the 'expert' McDunnough sent my way, be he promised to be coming around again today to work out the details of my trip to London… mostly advice on who and where to look, and to give me more information about the beast itself. I knew precious little about cattle of the winged and fire-breathing variety, and he promised he would be coming back with reference material and what knowledge he and his wife had with him.
For now though, there were the morning chores to take care of, and to see if I could help out the beast without getting my top half separated from my bottom half by means of teeth. I took one last bite of the jerky before walking to the front door and opening it, only to take an immediate step back a moment later. There, laying on the nearest stone to the door that makes up the walkway to the front of the house was a whipper drake, it's short body curled up in death, the cause of which was rather obviously the pair of gashes along its neck.
Dried blood stained the stone, not quite brown to reveal that it hadn't been there very long. I stared at it for a few moments, then slowly reached down to gingerly pick it up and glanced towards the wyvern pen. The wyvern wasn't looking my way, but unless one of the coos suddenly gained claws or this whipperdrake committed suicide I knew who left this during the night.
Gripping the pest carefully I walked back into the house and laid it on the table… I hadn't cooked myself a whipper drake since I was a kid, but I wouldn't turn down lunch. For now I had chores to get to.
---
With the release of a latch the coos stepped out of the new 'barn', grateful moos sounded into the morning air as they trotted their way to their favorite bits of grass. Dylan, Bonni, and the rest moved past me, tails flicking behind them as they enjoyed the morning air.
"Last day for you boys and girls," I said quietly, turning around to watch them for a bit as they grazed before I started to make my way over to the wyvern pen.
The beast's head turned towards me as I walked, a small jet of flame escaping its mouth as its nostrils flared. It watched me all the way to the gate, then it moved to sit up fully as I entered the paddock. "Well good morning ya big scaled bastard." I greeted it warmly, the same way I did all my animals. As much as this one was 'mine' in any case.
The wyvern tilted its head, watching me carefully before it shuffled over to me on its wingtips. It was quite a thing to see a wyvern move in person, they were always portrayed as these great and majestic creatures, hell the queen's own symbol was a Nottingham Skyling, a big old bastard of a beast I'd heard tale of living near the Tower of London, 'course I'd never seen it, but the bastard was supposed to be so big it couldn't even fly. This thing… removed most of the 'grace' that was associated with the breed. Indeed, as it moved towards me using its legs for movement and wingtips for balance it was more like an ungraceful animal than anything else. Still impressive, but just an animal.
It stopped just a few feet away from me, head lowering down as it blew hot air over my body. The breath smelled of carrion and woodsmoke, and I slowly reached behind my back to produce a sack I had tied there. The wyvern noticed my movement immediately, its eyes tracking my hands as I moved the sack around then opened it on the ground. It revealed a rather large slab of meat spiced with comfrey root to help with the pain caused by the beast's damaged tissue.
It dived in on it the second I stepped away, its jaws snapped shut around the meat and swallowed it without chewing. It's long tongue slithered out to lick its chops, and it idly sniffed at the leather left behind as I moved around to its wing. I reached out slowly and carefully to touch it, my hand planting onto the rough leathery skin that frames the wing itself.
Almost immediately the beast turned its head, watching me careful as I felt the skin beneath my hand. It's muscle, thick and strong in stark contrast to the thin almost bat-like wing it frames. I slowly and with deliberate showy movements moved my hand not touching the wing to my side to produce a small leather pouch. "This is coneflower, ah'm gonna apply it to the joint… just stay calm beastie."
The hand on the wing slid down towards the wound on the joint, and the moment I got within a foot of the wound the wing surged forward. "Gah!"
I kept a desperate grip on the pouch as I bounced along the paddock's ground. I rolled several times, coming to a groaning stop sideways on the grass and facing the beast. It glared at me, yellow eyes reflecting the morning light with clear warning.
Unfortunately it was looking at a Scotsman. I spat loose bits of dirt and grass out of my mouth and stood up, my hands moved to pull the coat I was wearing off and tossed it onto the fence, leaving me in just my white shirt, vest, and trews. I met its gaze, grinning from ear to ear as I held up the pouch.
"Ah'm gonna help ya out whether ya like it or not beastie. Ya ain't much worse than a bull, and ah'd rather do this the easy way."
With that I took a step forward, then another, and another. My hands held out at my side, not in a gesture of dominance, but one of placation. The slow steps hopefully conveyed I wasn't a threat, though if the beast thought I was a threat at this point there wasn't much I could do to fix it regardless. The thing was smart, damn smart, and it was more likely reacting out of fear of pain than anything else.
The beast growled, backing away as I approached… but not fast enough. I slowly, gently placed my hand back onto the wing, then slowly slid it towards the wound. The beast stopped, breathing heavily as my hand neared, before letting out another very low growl as I got close to the wound itself. The beast didn't move, just stared at me as I looked over the injury. The skin was damaged, cut and compressed from where it was bound by what appears to have been rope. The skin was badly irritated, and several open sores are present from where the rope must have been frayed.
My eyes narrowed at the sight of it, then I dipped my finger into the coneflower ointment and moved them to the wound proper.
"It'll be alright… girl?" To be honest I hadn't checked, but I continued the soothing words regardless as I finally placed your hand onto the wound proper. The wyvern let out a sound between a growl and a yelp, and bucked hard. This time I leapt, grasping onto one of the ridge of its back to haul myself up as the beast desperately jerked underneath me. "Calm yerself!" I shouted, my hand running the ointment over the wound rapidly. "It'll be alright ya dumb brute!"
My hand clutched onto the spine for dear life as the beast ran around in circles, its legs kicking against the ground, before… it stopped. Its head turned to look at me, and the hand applying the ointment, golden eyes unblinking as I worked. I grinned, "yeah? Feels better doesn't it?"
It didn't move as I continued, and to my surprise by the time I got to the point I had to work on the joint of the second wing the beast raised it of its own volition, watching me carefully as I applied the yellow ointment. "That's right, it'll all be over soon. Whoever owned ya was a real bastard ya know that?" It took only a few more minutes of work before both joints were covered in the yellow mix, and I leaned back to admire my work…
"Woah!" Only to go tumbling off the beast as it bucked again. I spun around the moment I hit the dirt, pain lancing through my elbows as I hit the thankfully soft ground. A word of challenge and anger was on my lips… quickly lost as I stared up at the visage of the beast a mere few inches away from my own. It's eyes blinked once, then it growled and turned away to stomp across the paddock. "Aye, well ah bastard fer a bastard then." I muttered, then pulled myself up off the ground and brushed the dirt and grass off my trews. Right, well, that should hold it until the evening at least, for now I had other tasks to do, cleanup work to finish before rich Mr. Crawford arrived agai-
As those thoughts crossed my mind I saw a cart coming down the road, a familiar one at that. "Well, how early for a cityman."
With a grunt I grabbed my coat and slid it on, then made my way down to the road to meet him.
---
My plate was slightly fuller than normal as I ate breakfast the next morning, that was in part due to me not having to stockpile food for later anymore… and that I might as well enjoy a few breakfasts beyond just eating apples. God above knows that I may not be seeing this farm again for some time if the plan goes well.
… Well, to be honest to call it a plan is perhaps a bit weak. More of a desperate idea brought on by a wyvern crashing into my barn. The thought of finding the owner to seek reparation was briefly on my mind before I thought better of it, I don't have the means to support my case… and it would hit the finances I barely have to begin with to hire one of those traveling lawmen. Course, if I won the prosecutor would be paid for, but I couldn't justify the risk to begin with. Besides, the barn isn't worth the effort for a failing farm to begin with.
No, due to that there is no saving the farm, at the time being. If I played my cards right I could get a nice payout in London from whoever owned this beast and save up money to rebuild the barn and expand the farm itself… maybe hire some helpers while I'm at it. My lips turned up at the thought, little better than the ranchers. But I didn't have a family to support anymore, and I didn't plan on getting one anytime soon for that matter, so might as well use the situation that god has given me to my best advantage. If there was one thing I was capable of doing on this earth it was rearing animals, and if they are so bad at it in London that one can go crashing into my barn like a lightning strike then I have a chance at a good line of work.
It still left a bad taste in my mouth to have to abandon the farm in such a way, but I'm not so stubborn that I won't seek another option to save it. I took another bite of the jerky I was eating then glanced out the window towards the 'wyvern pen'. The beast had taken up its favorite spot, that being the corner near the fences so that it could watch the distant forest while the small wooden posts 'defend it' from the back. Course it could take whatever position it wanted, the thing had made a mess of several pests that had been skulking around the farm recently.
The beast had settled in rather comfortable, a species that had a 'unique, solitary but loyal temperament.' Per what Crawford told me anyways, I still wasn't sure quite what to make of the 'expert' McDunnough sent my way, be he promised to be coming around again today to work out the details of my trip to London… mostly advice on who and where to look, and to give me more information about the beast itself. I knew precious little about cattle of the winged and fire-breathing variety, and he promised he would be coming back with reference material and what knowledge he and his wife had with him.
For now though, there were the morning chores to take care of, and to see if I could help out the beast without getting my top half separated from my bottom half by means of teeth. I took one last bite of the jerky before walking to the front door and opening it, only to take an immediate step back a moment later. There, laying on the nearest stone to the door that makes up the walkway to the front of the house was a whipper drake, it's short body curled up in death, the cause of which was rather obviously the pair of gashes along its neck.
Dried blood stained the stone, not quite brown to reveal that it hadn't been there very long. I stared at it for a few moments, then slowly reached down to gingerly pick it up and glanced towards the wyvern pen. The wyvern wasn't looking my way, but unless one of the coos suddenly gained claws or this whipperdrake committed suicide I knew who left this during the night.
Gripping the pest carefully I walked back into the house and laid it on the table… I hadn't cooked myself a whipper drake since I was a kid, but I wouldn't turn down lunch. For now I had chores to get to.
---
With the release of a latch the coos stepped out of the new 'barn', grateful moos sounded into the morning air as they trotted their way to their favorite bits of grass. Dylan, Bonni, and the rest moved past me, tails flicking behind them as they enjoyed the morning air.
"Last day for you boys and girls," I said quietly, turning around to watch them for a bit as they grazed before I started to make my way over to the wyvern pen.
The beast's head turned towards me as I walked, a small jet of flame escaping its mouth as its nostrils flared. It watched me all the way to the gate, then it moved to sit up fully as I entered the paddock. "Well good morning ya big scaled bastard." I greeted it warmly, the same way I did all my animals. As much as this one was 'mine' in any case.
The wyvern tilted its head, watching me carefully before it shuffled over to me on its wingtips. It was quite a thing to see a wyvern move in person, they were always portrayed as these great and majestic creatures, hell the queen's own symbol was a Nottingham Skyling, a big old bastard of a beast I'd heard tale of living near the Tower of London, 'course I'd never seen it, but the bastard was supposed to be so big it couldn't even fly. This thing… removed most of the 'grace' that was associated with the breed. Indeed, as it moved towards me using its legs for movement and wingtips for balance it was more like an ungraceful animal than anything else. Still impressive, but just an animal.
It stopped just a few feet away from me, head lowering down as it blew hot air over my body. The breath smelled of carrion and woodsmoke, and I slowly reached behind my back to produce a sack I had tied there. The wyvern noticed my movement immediately, its eyes tracking my hands as I moved the sack around then opened it on the ground. It revealed a rather large slab of meat spiced with comfrey root to help with the pain caused by the beast's damaged tissue.
It dived in on it the second I stepped away, its jaws snapped shut around the meat and swallowed it without chewing. It's long tongue slithered out to lick its chops, and it idly sniffed at the leather left behind as I moved around to its wing. I reached out slowly and carefully to touch it, my hand planting onto the rough leathery skin that frames the wing itself.
Almost immediately the beast turned its head, watching me careful as I felt the skin beneath my hand. It's muscle, thick and strong in stark contrast to the thin almost bat-like wing it frames. I slowly and with deliberate showy movements moved my hand not touching the wing to my side to produce a small leather pouch. "This is coneflower, ah'm gonna apply it to the joint… just stay calm beastie."
The hand on the wing slid down towards the wound on the joint, and the moment I got within a foot of the wound the wing surged forward. "Gah!"
I kept a desperate grip on the pouch as I bounced along the paddock's ground. I rolled several times, coming to a groaning stop sideways on the grass and facing the beast. It glared at me, yellow eyes reflecting the morning light with clear warning.
Unfortunately it was looking at a Scotsman. I spat loose bits of dirt and grass out of my mouth and stood up, my hands moved to pull the coat I was wearing off and tossed it onto the fence, leaving me in just my white shirt, vest, and trews. I met its gaze, grinning from ear to ear as I held up the pouch.
"Ah'm gonna help ya out whether ya like it or not beastie. Ya ain't much worse than a bull, and ah'd rather do this the easy way."
With that I took a step forward, then another, and another. My hands held out at my side, not in a gesture of dominance, but one of placation. The slow steps hopefully conveyed I wasn't a threat, though if the beast thought I was a threat at this point there wasn't much I could do to fix it regardless. The thing was smart, damn smart, and it was more likely reacting out of fear of pain than anything else.
The beast growled, backing away as I approached… but not fast enough. I slowly, gently placed my hand back onto the wing, then slowly slid it towards the wound. The beast stopped, breathing heavily as my hand neared, before letting out another very low growl as I got close to the wound itself. The beast didn't move, just stared at me as I looked over the injury. The skin was damaged, cut and compressed from where it was bound by what appears to have been rope. The skin was badly irritated, and several open sores are present from where the rope must have been frayed.
My eyes narrowed at the sight of it, then I dipped my finger into the coneflower ointment and moved them to the wound proper.
"It'll be alright… girl?" To be honest I hadn't checked, but I continued the soothing words regardless as I finally placed your hand onto the wound proper. The wyvern let out a sound between a growl and a yelp, and bucked hard. This time I leapt, grasping onto one of the ridge of its back to haul myself up as the beast desperately jerked underneath me. "Calm yerself!" I shouted, my hand running the ointment over the wound rapidly. "It'll be alright ya dumb brute!"
My hand clutched onto the spine for dear life as the beast ran around in circles, its legs kicking against the ground, before… it stopped. Its head turned to look at me, and the hand applying the ointment, golden eyes unblinking as I worked. I grinned, "yeah? Feels better doesn't it?"
It didn't move as I continued, and to my surprise by the time I got to the point I had to work on the joint of the second wing the beast raised it of its own volition, watching me carefully as I applied the yellow ointment. "That's right, it'll all be over soon. Whoever owned ya was a real bastard ya know that?" It took only a few more minutes of work before both joints were covered in the yellow mix, and I leaned back to admire my work…
"Woah!" Only to go tumbling off the beast as it bucked again. I spun around the moment I hit the dirt, pain lancing through my elbows as I hit the thankfully soft ground. A word of challenge and anger was on my lips… quickly lost as I stared up at the visage of the beast a mere few inches away from my own. It's eyes blinked once, then it growled and turned away to stomp across the paddock. "Aye, well ah bastard fer a bastard then." I muttered, then pulled myself up off the ground and brushed the dirt and grass off my trews. Right, well, that should hold it until the evening at least, for now I had other tasks to do, cleanup work to finish before rich Mr. Crawford arrived agai-
As those thoughts crossed my mind I saw a cart coming down the road, a familiar one at that. "Well, how early for a cityman."
With a grunt I grabbed my coat and slid it on, then made my way down to the road to meet him.
Chapter 5
Erien
God's Weakest Soldier
- Location
- Georgia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Thanks to Armoury for the beta!
---
I made my way down the hill quickly, there was much to do today and despite the early hour it felt like there was precious little time to do it. The sun had just started to give out the faintest hint of light to the east as I awoke, and now that the morning tasks were done it had well and truly risen, revealing a deep fog that settled in over the distant hills, and the cart now bouncing slightly on the rough-trodden dirt road that went by the farm.
By the time it came to a stop near my gate I was already there, unlocking it before leaning against the stone fence as Crawford (alone this time) stepped out of the carriage. The smile on his face was jubilant, and it only grew in fervor as he spotted me and made his way over.
"Arthur! It is good to see you again! How is the wyvern? How are you?"
I offered a hand for the man to shake, which he did jubilantly a moment before I spoke. "Ah'm fine, thanks for askin. The wyvern is healin' well enough, bit fighthy but it left a dead whipperdrake on my doorstep this mornin, so ah think that's as good a sign as any it's warmin' up to me a little." Of course, I also didn't mention how it bucked me like an onerous coo come heat, but that's beside the matter.
"Wyverns imprint well, much like canids in that regard," Crawford replied.
I nodded, having no idea what a 'canid' was but felt it was the right idea to nod regardless, in any case, Crawford continued.
"They bond particularly well to good hosts, so for one to warm up to you so quickly would make it quite clear it is enjoying the care it is being given." Crawford's smile lost it's jubilant qualities as he said that, turning to something far more simpler and… calm, I suppose the word would be. "I must say you have done a remarkable job so far, might I enter your abode so that we can speak further, the weather in the Lowlands is… disagreeable with me."
I glanced up towards the empty sky, faint traces of white clouds with a hint of rain further south. It was a bit chilly in the morning to be sure, but nothing that should be a problem. Of course, my mind was also mulling over the fact that apparently the previous host was so poor the beast was willing to warm up to me in the short time I've had it around. But I had my suspicions already just from the wounds caused by its bondage, my lips curled slightly at the thought but I nodded and gestured for the man to walk onwards.
Crawford bowed his head slightly in thanks, and with the walk of a man who clearly rarely walks on mud he made his way up the hill towards my small home with his hands clasped behind his back. His steps were heavy, struggling with the ground that had been rained on the previous night, mud caked his fancy shoes… he transitioned to walking on the roots and rocks rather quickly. My steps were a fair bit more practiced and quicker, and by the time he made it to the door I already had it held open and waiting for him.
"Thank you Arthur," Crawford said, stepping past me and into the building proper. His muddy shoes added to the already mud-painted floor, but that, at least at that moment, was far from my worries.
"Feel free to take ah seat, ah don't have much but ya can make yerself comfortable."
Crawford took the invitation, moving to pull back one of the three seats at the table and sitting himself upon it. He may just have been the most finely dressed man to have ever entered this house, and for a moment he looked out the window towards the Wyvern pacing around in the paddock before he turned his full attention onto me. "Right, so I've gone ahead and gotten the tickets, you are sure of this… plan of yours?"
I nodded, leaning against the pantry wall. "Ah've got a gentleman coming today to pickup the cattle, he's already paid, so I'll be able to pay you back for that and the help you've given me so far. And hirin' the help of yer carriage of course."
Crawford stared at me for a moment before nodding, his fingers rapping lightly on the wooden table before he pulled back to lean against the seat. The old wood creaked at the motion, but held as steady as it had the last century it had been around. "Right, the train will take you directly into London from Glasgow, it's one of the newer models so it should get you there rather quickly."
"How long will it take? Never been to either city."
Crawford jerked his head towards the door. "About an hour to get to Glasgow, then a good eight to get to London proper. If you've never been to Glasgow though, there are some things you should know."
I stared at him, letting the silent question hang in the air before he continued.
"Expect to see more Wyverns about, both on the roofs and in building's proper. Plenty more there than out here." Crawford explained, his hands moved up to grasp each other as he talked. "Carriage pullers, fire lighters, general smaller breeds that hang around the roofs and hunt stray animals."
"And if one were to attack some random bloke from the Lowlands?" I asked carefully.
Crawford shrugged. "Owner would be expected to pay due recompense, and there's a size limit as to what is allowed on the street. The wyvern out there in the paddock for instance would have to be kept in a cage as we take it to the train."
My gaze hardened and I glanced out the window. "What form of cage?"
"Oh plenty for it to be comfortable. Just something so that it can't leap out to go after something, or fly away."
I snorted, turning back. "It won't be flying for some time yet, not that ah'm an expert on how these beasts work to begin with. Ah assume it'll be loaded onto the train cage an' all?"
"That would be the case, yes, it will be in its own sealed compartment. It… isn't precisely cheap."
I glanced past Crawford towards the coos eating outside. "That… has been taken care of. For now, when does this cage of yours arrive?"
---
To say the beast was unhappy about being dragged into the cage would be understating the matter, it took a good five men to actually get the muzzle around the beast's snout, then all of their collective efforts to actually drag the thing into the cage. Still, the job was done, and the wyvern was now laying down in it as the farmland passed by behind me.
I didn't miss the look of anger the beast gave me, but I was a fair bit more distracted watching my farm disappear behind me for… possibly the last time, to really care. To say it left me with no small amount of shame would be putting it lightly, but at the same time I didn't really have a choice either. I could struggle and survive for another season, or I could gamble… and despite what the Lord said about gambling, sometimes a man has precious little choice but to do so with his fortunes.
"So why the fascination with Wyverns? And helpin' me out for that matter." The thought had been on my mind for some time, and I didn't much trust the wealthy type in the city to care so much about the plight of some Lowland farmer.
Crawford gave me a slightly guilty smile from where he was sitting on the carriage's indoor cushion. The inside was a fair bit more posh than any place I had been in prior. "I have had a fascination for the care of Wyvern's since a younger age, I can actually thank McDunnough for that, he was touring when I was a younger boy and I had the chance to meet and speak with him." His tone got more wistful as he spoke, and as his eyes glanced out the window I could tell he was reminiscing his earlier years.
"He taught me a great many things, so when he asked if I could come to assist with something, well…" Crawford turned back to look at me and shrugged his shoulders. "How could I not?"
"Ah'm afraid ah only knew him as the local teacher, and even then I didn't see him too much." I admitted, the man was knowledgeable on the beasts, but he never had much to say about his past in regards to them beyond showing off some racing trophies. As a child they had fascinated me of course, as did every other boy that age. But life rather ripped the fascination of such things away rather harshly.
In my case it was a mix of having to take care of the farm, and the fact that one had slammed into my barn and started to act like a half-tin housecat.
"He was quite a sight in his prime I am told," Crawford replied. "But enough of that, I could talk about that all day. I will be accompanying you to London as it is a good excuse to take care of some of my own business, do you require assistance in locating the owner? You do rather… stand out."
I glanced down at the clothing I was wearing, the finest I owned actually. A clean brown vest, undershirt, and blue tartan hanging down my waist. I was not the pinnacle of London high society, but I was not some Lowland beggar either. But, I was also dressed in a highly traditional fashion, that much I could admit. "Ah wouldn't say no," at the very least he could be an introduction.
Crawford smiles at that, "then we should head for Victorian Station when we arrive. Our destination would be the Grosvenor area, the land around Hyde's park is a popular place for those of… a richer persuasion to show off their stock."
I nodded, though I had no idea what he was talking about. Instead I looked out the window myself, settling for watching the terrain pass as Crawford rattled on more about the districts of London in the background.
---
Due to my position in the carriage I was afforded a view of Glasgow before Crawford was, not that the man could be surprised by it. I on the other hand… was. Miles upon miles of brick buildings stretched out east to west, chimney's from their roofs sending black smoke into the sky that threatens to choke. To say Glasgow was larger than the town I grew up in would be like comparing a fire to the sun, there is no close comparison. The buildings, unlike those back in the village, mostly have flat roofs, and this at first confused me until I saw the plethora of airships perched atop them.
Even as we rode further into the city I could see several coming and going, wyverns strapped to them flapping their wings either to descend gradually or to take off into the air. That was impressive, but what had moved on from impressive to terrifying and mind boggling to equal measure was the industry that passed the windows by as the cart moved. For every draught horse pulling yard to move some stock, there was a large bestial wyvern with clipped wings pulling a load twice as large.
Near the approaching station I could see factories: smoke-stacks billowing and doors thrown open. This place too had more and larger wyverns than home: lighting fires and superheating metals. Blasts of intense fire lit the inside of the buildings every few seconds as the fires of industry were coughed up by shackled wyverns.
The sight of the bindings made my stomach churn, and I turned away towards the city proper. More of the beasts littered the rooftops, staring down at the roads below. It was a city filled with them, in everything that entailed.
"Impressed Arthur?" Crawford asked.
No… no I was not.
---
---
I made my way down the hill quickly, there was much to do today and despite the early hour it felt like there was precious little time to do it. The sun had just started to give out the faintest hint of light to the east as I awoke, and now that the morning tasks were done it had well and truly risen, revealing a deep fog that settled in over the distant hills, and the cart now bouncing slightly on the rough-trodden dirt road that went by the farm.
By the time it came to a stop near my gate I was already there, unlocking it before leaning against the stone fence as Crawford (alone this time) stepped out of the carriage. The smile on his face was jubilant, and it only grew in fervor as he spotted me and made his way over.
"Arthur! It is good to see you again! How is the wyvern? How are you?"
I offered a hand for the man to shake, which he did jubilantly a moment before I spoke. "Ah'm fine, thanks for askin. The wyvern is healin' well enough, bit fighthy but it left a dead whipperdrake on my doorstep this mornin, so ah think that's as good a sign as any it's warmin' up to me a little." Of course, I also didn't mention how it bucked me like an onerous coo come heat, but that's beside the matter.
"Wyverns imprint well, much like canids in that regard," Crawford replied.
I nodded, having no idea what a 'canid' was but felt it was the right idea to nod regardless, in any case, Crawford continued.
"They bond particularly well to good hosts, so for one to warm up to you so quickly would make it quite clear it is enjoying the care it is being given." Crawford's smile lost it's jubilant qualities as he said that, turning to something far more simpler and… calm, I suppose the word would be. "I must say you have done a remarkable job so far, might I enter your abode so that we can speak further, the weather in the Lowlands is… disagreeable with me."
I glanced up towards the empty sky, faint traces of white clouds with a hint of rain further south. It was a bit chilly in the morning to be sure, but nothing that should be a problem. Of course, my mind was also mulling over the fact that apparently the previous host was so poor the beast was willing to warm up to me in the short time I've had it around. But I had my suspicions already just from the wounds caused by its bondage, my lips curled slightly at the thought but I nodded and gestured for the man to walk onwards.
Crawford bowed his head slightly in thanks, and with the walk of a man who clearly rarely walks on mud he made his way up the hill towards my small home with his hands clasped behind his back. His steps were heavy, struggling with the ground that had been rained on the previous night, mud caked his fancy shoes… he transitioned to walking on the roots and rocks rather quickly. My steps were a fair bit more practiced and quicker, and by the time he made it to the door I already had it held open and waiting for him.
"Thank you Arthur," Crawford said, stepping past me and into the building proper. His muddy shoes added to the already mud-painted floor, but that, at least at that moment, was far from my worries.
"Feel free to take ah seat, ah don't have much but ya can make yerself comfortable."
Crawford took the invitation, moving to pull back one of the three seats at the table and sitting himself upon it. He may just have been the most finely dressed man to have ever entered this house, and for a moment he looked out the window towards the Wyvern pacing around in the paddock before he turned his full attention onto me. "Right, so I've gone ahead and gotten the tickets, you are sure of this… plan of yours?"
I nodded, leaning against the pantry wall. "Ah've got a gentleman coming today to pickup the cattle, he's already paid, so I'll be able to pay you back for that and the help you've given me so far. And hirin' the help of yer carriage of course."
Crawford stared at me for a moment before nodding, his fingers rapping lightly on the wooden table before he pulled back to lean against the seat. The old wood creaked at the motion, but held as steady as it had the last century it had been around. "Right, the train will take you directly into London from Glasgow, it's one of the newer models so it should get you there rather quickly."
"How long will it take? Never been to either city."
Crawford jerked his head towards the door. "About an hour to get to Glasgow, then a good eight to get to London proper. If you've never been to Glasgow though, there are some things you should know."
I stared at him, letting the silent question hang in the air before he continued.
"Expect to see more Wyverns about, both on the roofs and in building's proper. Plenty more there than out here." Crawford explained, his hands moved up to grasp each other as he talked. "Carriage pullers, fire lighters, general smaller breeds that hang around the roofs and hunt stray animals."
"And if one were to attack some random bloke from the Lowlands?" I asked carefully.
Crawford shrugged. "Owner would be expected to pay due recompense, and there's a size limit as to what is allowed on the street. The wyvern out there in the paddock for instance would have to be kept in a cage as we take it to the train."
My gaze hardened and I glanced out the window. "What form of cage?"
"Oh plenty for it to be comfortable. Just something so that it can't leap out to go after something, or fly away."
I snorted, turning back. "It won't be flying for some time yet, not that ah'm an expert on how these beasts work to begin with. Ah assume it'll be loaded onto the train cage an' all?"
"That would be the case, yes, it will be in its own sealed compartment. It… isn't precisely cheap."
I glanced past Crawford towards the coos eating outside. "That… has been taken care of. For now, when does this cage of yours arrive?"
---
To say the beast was unhappy about being dragged into the cage would be understating the matter, it took a good five men to actually get the muzzle around the beast's snout, then all of their collective efforts to actually drag the thing into the cage. Still, the job was done, and the wyvern was now laying down in it as the farmland passed by behind me.
I didn't miss the look of anger the beast gave me, but I was a fair bit more distracted watching my farm disappear behind me for… possibly the last time, to really care. To say it left me with no small amount of shame would be putting it lightly, but at the same time I didn't really have a choice either. I could struggle and survive for another season, or I could gamble… and despite what the Lord said about gambling, sometimes a man has precious little choice but to do so with his fortunes.
"So why the fascination with Wyverns? And helpin' me out for that matter." The thought had been on my mind for some time, and I didn't much trust the wealthy type in the city to care so much about the plight of some Lowland farmer.
Crawford gave me a slightly guilty smile from where he was sitting on the carriage's indoor cushion. The inside was a fair bit more posh than any place I had been in prior. "I have had a fascination for the care of Wyvern's since a younger age, I can actually thank McDunnough for that, he was touring when I was a younger boy and I had the chance to meet and speak with him." His tone got more wistful as he spoke, and as his eyes glanced out the window I could tell he was reminiscing his earlier years.
"He taught me a great many things, so when he asked if I could come to assist with something, well…" Crawford turned back to look at me and shrugged his shoulders. "How could I not?"
"Ah'm afraid ah only knew him as the local teacher, and even then I didn't see him too much." I admitted, the man was knowledgeable on the beasts, but he never had much to say about his past in regards to them beyond showing off some racing trophies. As a child they had fascinated me of course, as did every other boy that age. But life rather ripped the fascination of such things away rather harshly.
In my case it was a mix of having to take care of the farm, and the fact that one had slammed into my barn and started to act like a half-tin housecat.
"He was quite a sight in his prime I am told," Crawford replied. "But enough of that, I could talk about that all day. I will be accompanying you to London as it is a good excuse to take care of some of my own business, do you require assistance in locating the owner? You do rather… stand out."
I glanced down at the clothing I was wearing, the finest I owned actually. A clean brown vest, undershirt, and blue tartan hanging down my waist. I was not the pinnacle of London high society, but I was not some Lowland beggar either. But, I was also dressed in a highly traditional fashion, that much I could admit. "Ah wouldn't say no," at the very least he could be an introduction.
Crawford smiles at that, "then we should head for Victorian Station when we arrive. Our destination would be the Grosvenor area, the land around Hyde's park is a popular place for those of… a richer persuasion to show off their stock."
I nodded, though I had no idea what he was talking about. Instead I looked out the window myself, settling for watching the terrain pass as Crawford rattled on more about the districts of London in the background.
---
Due to my position in the carriage I was afforded a view of Glasgow before Crawford was, not that the man could be surprised by it. I on the other hand… was. Miles upon miles of brick buildings stretched out east to west, chimney's from their roofs sending black smoke into the sky that threatens to choke. To say Glasgow was larger than the town I grew up in would be like comparing a fire to the sun, there is no close comparison. The buildings, unlike those back in the village, mostly have flat roofs, and this at first confused me until I saw the plethora of airships perched atop them.
Even as we rode further into the city I could see several coming and going, wyverns strapped to them flapping their wings either to descend gradually or to take off into the air. That was impressive, but what had moved on from impressive to terrifying and mind boggling to equal measure was the industry that passed the windows by as the cart moved. For every draught horse pulling yard to move some stock, there was a large bestial wyvern with clipped wings pulling a load twice as large.
Near the approaching station I could see factories: smoke-stacks billowing and doors thrown open. This place too had more and larger wyverns than home: lighting fires and superheating metals. Blasts of intense fire lit the inside of the buildings every few seconds as the fires of industry were coughed up by shackled wyverns.
The sight of the bindings made my stomach churn, and I turned away towards the city proper. More of the beasts littered the rooftops, staring down at the roads below. It was a city filled with them, in everything that entailed.
"Impressed Arthur?" Crawford asked.
No… no I was not.
---
Chapter 6
Erien
God's Weakest Soldier
- Location
- Georgia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Thanks to Armoury for the beta!
---
"Ah'm not one for industrialization," I said after a few moments. Turning my head back from the windows to look at Crawford.
The man turned his own gaze away a few seconds later, the hand that was pressed against the window moving to support his chin as he stared at me. "It is the might of progress. The wyverns have allowed us to grow by leaps and bounds… and if you don't enjoy Glasgow you certainly wouldn't enjoy London my good man."
"Ah've got nothin' against progress," I replied. "Ah'm just not one for the abuse of animals. A horse can pull a cart, but ya feed it afterwards and don't keep it shackled to the floor. That-" I pointed out of the window towards the factory complex. "Isn't the way to be treatin' somethin' of intelligence."
Crawford said nothing for a few minutes, a frown finding its way onto his face. When he did finally speak he was far more quiet. "I'm not a great fan myself, but it is the way of things and there is nothing we can do about it. Besides, there is something… magnificent about it, isn't there?"
I turned my head back to the window, the industrial area was quickly fading away to become a trainyard. Where I could see horses and wyverns both pulling heavy loads around. Ahead of that was the trainyard itself, metal behemoths were pulling in and out of the station, loud hissing and screeching metal filled the air as they pulled forward. Here, much like elsewhere, wyverns were used as well. In this case I could see them in enclosed compartments in the front end of the trains… I didn't know what they were properly called, but they breathed out jets of flame that lit up the furnace, causing them to gain speed rather rapidly as they pulled out of the station.
One watched me as the carriage pulled up, a brace around its mouth to keep it from letting out flame inadvertently as it sat in its compartment. Yellow eyes watched as I opened the door to the carriage, then a sharp tug from the train's master forced its head back to the coals. I stepped out… and discovered that the cart hid the smell as well, the scent of coal fills the air, along with the scent of polluted air and the now familiar scent that wyvern flame leaves behind.
"I've already sent ahead for the dock workers to move the wyvern onto one of the train beds." As he said this the carriage moved up, and like ants dock workers moved to start getting a crane in place to move it onto a flatbed. The beast jerked frantically against its bindings, wings twitching… but its eyes were locked on me. The beast was more than a little displeased, and I did honestly wish there was an easier way, but a few hours of being stuck on a train would be better than being bound down on the back of a cart for a day. That thought stayed in my mind the entire time I was buying the ticket and entering the train itself.
---
The booth of the train I was making my way towards had more posh and padding than my entire home, and I sat down onto the seat and leaned back against it. Crawford joined me a moment later, the rich man crossing his legs and resting his hands upon them.
"Been a good few months since I've been to London." Crawford admitted, his foot bouncing slightly against the wooden floor as he looked out the window.
I followed his gaze, through the small window I could see the trains on the other side of my own. Dozens of the things, smoke rising from their chimneys into the air as they handled either passengers or cargo. There was a half-decent chance of there being more train cars here than people in my town. I contented myself with people watching, and a good few minutes later the train jerked, then slowly started moving forward until Glasgow was out of sight. Instead it was replaced by the outskirts of the city, then miles upon miles of ranchland going off in every direction. The same kind of ranchland that had been driving my farm, and all the farms around me, out of business. I frowned at the sight, and if Crawford noticed he didn't mention it, instead the first thing he said since we started moving was a general question.
"How long has that farm been in your family?
I looked at him, my eyes shifting between his face and the ranchland outside as I answered. "Fourteen generations." I replied. "Unless this works out, it'll be the last."
Crawford frowned at that, lightly tugging on the sleeve of his coat before he lets out a sigh. "My wife's family were farmers before we met, so I understand."
My gaze turned from the window completely, the view outside forgotten as I looked to him, then to all the bluebloods around me in the passenger car. "Ah really don't think ya do actually, but your attempts at empathy are welcome. It's mah burden to bear, and this is a gamble to be sure."
"If it's any consolation the wyvern seems to have warmed up to you rather quickly, you may have a knack for it."
I shook my head. "It's an animal, I've grown up around them and have learned to rear them. Ya treat it well and it'll do what ya ask, unless it's particularly ornery. Don't see how a wyvern is any different than a horse or coo, 'sides the fact that it can breath fire and fly." I said this last bit with a smile, amused by the comparison myself.
Crawford returned the smile. "Quite a few people think of them as magical creatures, likened to fae."
"Never met ah fae that crashes into my barn, scares the coos, and gets a gapin' wound in the chest. But admittedly, never met any fae at all." I replied. "Wounds healin' nicely though. The beast'll probably have half a mind to take off the moment we get the shackles off of it."
"It would be best if we kept it… shackled until we reach its original residence. Which shouldn't be too hard given the mark on it. There are dozens of wyvern lords in London, but finding the gentleman who owned this particular breed won't be too difficult."
"Aye, and if the man simply takes it and dumps me back on the street it will have all been for nothing." I replied, glancing back out the window to the rolling hills.
"Quite impossible, you are owed due recompense for the damage to your farm, and you have several witnesses of standing to testify. The lord's wyvern did damage to your property, so you are by law entitled to payment." Crawford explained.
"Aye, and it's always been the way of the rich to play fairly." I shot back, my worries about this trip coming out perhaps sooner than I had planned.
Crawford gave me a look that was nothing less than conciliatory. "Now now my good man, it will all be sorted in due accor-
*Bang*
Crawfords statement was cut off as I fell forward, one hand slamming onto the seat in front of me as Crawford fell to the side. Gasps and screams filled the cabin, and I heard a deep and familiar growl in the distance behind me. My feet were moving before my brain even knew what I was doing, stumbling through the shaking train car as I ran through one and into the next. The sights and sounds of a drinking cabin passed me by as I burst through that door as well, and I suddenly found myself standing just in front of the flatcars. The beast was roaring mightily, having partially pried off the muzzle around its mouth and the chains around its neck as it slammed its head into the side of the cage in a bid for freedom. The crew of the train was already around it, hesitantly standing around the cage holding chains and ropes as they tried to figure out the best way to deal with the panicking animal.
I sprinted past them, ignoring their shouts of warning as I reached the iron door and swung it open. The beast's head hit me a moment later, slamming me back into the cage with a groan. Pain shot up my back, but I ignored it and dove to the side as a jet of flame lit up the ground where I just was. My coat lit, the wool fabric having caught as easy as kindle wood. I slipped my arms out of it, leaving the burning article behind before I surged forward, swinging low as it tried to ram its head into me again before I tackled it underneath the neck.
The beast jerked, letting out a roar of anger as it tried to buck me off. With only the movement of its neck and head being available to it, it was at a disadvantage.
"Calm…" I said quietly, holding on as it thrashed against me. "Calm."
It swings its head up, inadvertently slamming its own body into the top of the cage. I refused to let go, swinging my leg up and over so that I was sitting on its neck. "It's gonna be alright ya beast… calm." I reached out to grasp one of the bars, muscles flexing as I held it in place using my legs and arms. It stared up at me, yellow slitted eyes filled with anger and frustration at its inability to buck me off. It lowered its head slowly, laying its throat and snout against the floor of the cage.
I kept our eyes met, hand pressing down on its head as I slowly slid down off of it. A small jet of flame escaped its snout, but it made no further movements to buck or fight. The rattling of chains caught my attention, and I turned my head to see it struggling against a pair of new chains that are holding its wings to the side of the cage. As I watched it jerked on them again, I stared at them, tracing my gaze down to catch they were hooked onto the floor. Bending down I undid them both, the sound of metal hitting the floor sounding out a moment later as the wyvern pulled its wings onto itself, a soft growl filling my ears that mixes with the sound of rushing wind from the trains movement.
Speaking of movement, motion out of the corner of my eye caused me to turn my head. Crawford was standing a good dozen feet away from the edge of the cage, a slight smile on his face as he looked at me. "Not bad, you could be a wyvern rider yourself."
"Not damn likely," I replied. "Ah'll be stayin' out here the rest of the trip so it doesn't try anythin' stupid."
One of the crewmen, a rather burly man that looked like a mule kicked him in the face every morning for a wakeup started to speak. "We need to tie it back down si-"
I shook my head vehemently. "Ah've got it handled, you do whatever it is you do."
He looked like he wanted to say something more, but backs off and starts to give instruction to the others. I leaned back against the beast, my eyes meeting its own for a moment before I turned my head to the countryside as it rushed past us. The wind in my hair, the speed we were moving.
It just wanted to fly.
---
"Ah'm not one for industrialization," I said after a few moments. Turning my head back from the windows to look at Crawford.
The man turned his own gaze away a few seconds later, the hand that was pressed against the window moving to support his chin as he stared at me. "It is the might of progress. The wyverns have allowed us to grow by leaps and bounds… and if you don't enjoy Glasgow you certainly wouldn't enjoy London my good man."
"Ah've got nothin' against progress," I replied. "Ah'm just not one for the abuse of animals. A horse can pull a cart, but ya feed it afterwards and don't keep it shackled to the floor. That-" I pointed out of the window towards the factory complex. "Isn't the way to be treatin' somethin' of intelligence."
Crawford said nothing for a few minutes, a frown finding its way onto his face. When he did finally speak he was far more quiet. "I'm not a great fan myself, but it is the way of things and there is nothing we can do about it. Besides, there is something… magnificent about it, isn't there?"
I turned my head back to the window, the industrial area was quickly fading away to become a trainyard. Where I could see horses and wyverns both pulling heavy loads around. Ahead of that was the trainyard itself, metal behemoths were pulling in and out of the station, loud hissing and screeching metal filled the air as they pulled forward. Here, much like elsewhere, wyverns were used as well. In this case I could see them in enclosed compartments in the front end of the trains… I didn't know what they were properly called, but they breathed out jets of flame that lit up the furnace, causing them to gain speed rather rapidly as they pulled out of the station.
One watched me as the carriage pulled up, a brace around its mouth to keep it from letting out flame inadvertently as it sat in its compartment. Yellow eyes watched as I opened the door to the carriage, then a sharp tug from the train's master forced its head back to the coals. I stepped out… and discovered that the cart hid the smell as well, the scent of coal fills the air, along with the scent of polluted air and the now familiar scent that wyvern flame leaves behind.
"I've already sent ahead for the dock workers to move the wyvern onto one of the train beds." As he said this the carriage moved up, and like ants dock workers moved to start getting a crane in place to move it onto a flatbed. The beast jerked frantically against its bindings, wings twitching… but its eyes were locked on me. The beast was more than a little displeased, and I did honestly wish there was an easier way, but a few hours of being stuck on a train would be better than being bound down on the back of a cart for a day. That thought stayed in my mind the entire time I was buying the ticket and entering the train itself.
---
The booth of the train I was making my way towards had more posh and padding than my entire home, and I sat down onto the seat and leaned back against it. Crawford joined me a moment later, the rich man crossing his legs and resting his hands upon them.
"Been a good few months since I've been to London." Crawford admitted, his foot bouncing slightly against the wooden floor as he looked out the window.
I followed his gaze, through the small window I could see the trains on the other side of my own. Dozens of the things, smoke rising from their chimneys into the air as they handled either passengers or cargo. There was a half-decent chance of there being more train cars here than people in my town. I contented myself with people watching, and a good few minutes later the train jerked, then slowly started moving forward until Glasgow was out of sight. Instead it was replaced by the outskirts of the city, then miles upon miles of ranchland going off in every direction. The same kind of ranchland that had been driving my farm, and all the farms around me, out of business. I frowned at the sight, and if Crawford noticed he didn't mention it, instead the first thing he said since we started moving was a general question.
"How long has that farm been in your family?
I looked at him, my eyes shifting between his face and the ranchland outside as I answered. "Fourteen generations." I replied. "Unless this works out, it'll be the last."
Crawford frowned at that, lightly tugging on the sleeve of his coat before he lets out a sigh. "My wife's family were farmers before we met, so I understand."
My gaze turned from the window completely, the view outside forgotten as I looked to him, then to all the bluebloods around me in the passenger car. "Ah really don't think ya do actually, but your attempts at empathy are welcome. It's mah burden to bear, and this is a gamble to be sure."
"If it's any consolation the wyvern seems to have warmed up to you rather quickly, you may have a knack for it."
I shook my head. "It's an animal, I've grown up around them and have learned to rear them. Ya treat it well and it'll do what ya ask, unless it's particularly ornery. Don't see how a wyvern is any different than a horse or coo, 'sides the fact that it can breath fire and fly." I said this last bit with a smile, amused by the comparison myself.
Crawford returned the smile. "Quite a few people think of them as magical creatures, likened to fae."
"Never met ah fae that crashes into my barn, scares the coos, and gets a gapin' wound in the chest. But admittedly, never met any fae at all." I replied. "Wounds healin' nicely though. The beast'll probably have half a mind to take off the moment we get the shackles off of it."
"It would be best if we kept it… shackled until we reach its original residence. Which shouldn't be too hard given the mark on it. There are dozens of wyvern lords in London, but finding the gentleman who owned this particular breed won't be too difficult."
"Aye, and if the man simply takes it and dumps me back on the street it will have all been for nothing." I replied, glancing back out the window to the rolling hills.
"Quite impossible, you are owed due recompense for the damage to your farm, and you have several witnesses of standing to testify. The lord's wyvern did damage to your property, so you are by law entitled to payment." Crawford explained.
"Aye, and it's always been the way of the rich to play fairly." I shot back, my worries about this trip coming out perhaps sooner than I had planned.
Crawford gave me a look that was nothing less than conciliatory. "Now now my good man, it will all be sorted in due accor-
*Bang*
Crawfords statement was cut off as I fell forward, one hand slamming onto the seat in front of me as Crawford fell to the side. Gasps and screams filled the cabin, and I heard a deep and familiar growl in the distance behind me. My feet were moving before my brain even knew what I was doing, stumbling through the shaking train car as I ran through one and into the next. The sights and sounds of a drinking cabin passed me by as I burst through that door as well, and I suddenly found myself standing just in front of the flatcars. The beast was roaring mightily, having partially pried off the muzzle around its mouth and the chains around its neck as it slammed its head into the side of the cage in a bid for freedom. The crew of the train was already around it, hesitantly standing around the cage holding chains and ropes as they tried to figure out the best way to deal with the panicking animal.
I sprinted past them, ignoring their shouts of warning as I reached the iron door and swung it open. The beast's head hit me a moment later, slamming me back into the cage with a groan. Pain shot up my back, but I ignored it and dove to the side as a jet of flame lit up the ground where I just was. My coat lit, the wool fabric having caught as easy as kindle wood. I slipped my arms out of it, leaving the burning article behind before I surged forward, swinging low as it tried to ram its head into me again before I tackled it underneath the neck.
The beast jerked, letting out a roar of anger as it tried to buck me off. With only the movement of its neck and head being available to it, it was at a disadvantage.
"Calm…" I said quietly, holding on as it thrashed against me. "Calm."
It swings its head up, inadvertently slamming its own body into the top of the cage. I refused to let go, swinging my leg up and over so that I was sitting on its neck. "It's gonna be alright ya beast… calm." I reached out to grasp one of the bars, muscles flexing as I held it in place using my legs and arms. It stared up at me, yellow slitted eyes filled with anger and frustration at its inability to buck me off. It lowered its head slowly, laying its throat and snout against the floor of the cage.
I kept our eyes met, hand pressing down on its head as I slowly slid down off of it. A small jet of flame escaped its snout, but it made no further movements to buck or fight. The rattling of chains caught my attention, and I turned my head to see it struggling against a pair of new chains that are holding its wings to the side of the cage. As I watched it jerked on them again, I stared at them, tracing my gaze down to catch they were hooked onto the floor. Bending down I undid them both, the sound of metal hitting the floor sounding out a moment later as the wyvern pulled its wings onto itself, a soft growl filling my ears that mixes with the sound of rushing wind from the trains movement.
Speaking of movement, motion out of the corner of my eye caused me to turn my head. Crawford was standing a good dozen feet away from the edge of the cage, a slight smile on his face as he looked at me. "Not bad, you could be a wyvern rider yourself."
"Not damn likely," I replied. "Ah'll be stayin' out here the rest of the trip so it doesn't try anythin' stupid."
One of the crewmen, a rather burly man that looked like a mule kicked him in the face every morning for a wakeup started to speak. "We need to tie it back down si-"
I shook my head vehemently. "Ah've got it handled, you do whatever it is you do."
He looked like he wanted to say something more, but backs off and starts to give instruction to the others. I leaned back against the beast, my eyes meeting its own for a moment before I turned my head to the countryside as it rushed past us. The wind in my hair, the speed we were moving.
It just wanted to fly.
Chapter 7
Erien
God's Weakest Soldier
- Location
- Georgia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Thanks to Armoury for the beta!
---
My hand landed on the wyvern's head as I laid back against its body. The beast rumbled slightly, it's head had turned towards me to watch as I rested my head on its barrel. "Well, if ya ain't comfortable, ah ain't gonna be comfortable either ya big dumb lizard. Sides, yer warm." Indeed the beast was, an internal heat radiating from it that did well to fight the chill of the wind. It wasn't a particularly cold day, but with how rapidly I was travelling through the landscape it was a godsend against the wet and cold Atlantic air.
The beast let out another grunt, head laying down onto the train's car as it stared off ahead. "Aye, ah know ya want to fly beastie. We'll get this all sorted, and we can both be happy, sound good?"
Another growl sounded out, and I chuckled and pointed off towards the west. "See that? Torquhan, me great great great grandfather was from there." The train passed by the rolling hills, manor houses dotting the landscape. It wasn't a good farming country, but my ancestors made do regardless. The blood of farmers had been running in my veins as far back as the tales could tell, da' had always told me we were descended from the MacAlpin's, but I certainly never felt particularly kingly. That and nary less than half of all Scots said there were descending from the first king anyways. I was never sure whether they were lying, if the MacAlpin's were horny as an uncut goat, or both. During my internal musings, the scene had shifted, going from the distant homes of Torquhan, to the relatively bustling village of Stow. The train continued on, not bothering to stop at its station as it sped along the borders.
I leaned back against the barrel of the beast again, letting out a breath as Scotland passed me by. It was still several more hours to London, and I would admit some interest in seeing it pass by me, I was already farther south than my father had ever been, and in due time I would have travelled further than my grandparents as well. It was an odd feeling, not… wrong exactly, but nervousness I supposed, the feeling one tends to get when they are standing outside the schoolhouse for their first day, worried they won't fit in properly, or that they are stepping into a world they knew nothing about.
Though I supposed the latter was accurate regardless.
I glanced back at the beast, its eyes had closed as it laid down. It clearly wasn't fascinated by the countryside, though given its rather excited entrance it probably saw more of it at a better angle than I ever could. Still, it had the right idea, and I closed my own eyes as I let the warmth of the beast suffuse me.
Soon, London.
Soon… opportunity.
---
I was awoken several hours later by the deep booming whistle of the train, my eyes snapped open, both I and the wyvern raised our heads in curiosity to see what the fuss was about. Then my eyes widened. Stretching as far as I could see in either direction was a truly gargantuan city, a roar of wind passed me back, and I shrunk back as a train screamed past on a track going the opposite direction. It's horn blasts in the air, momentarily deafening me as I stumbled up and onto my feet.
The sky above the city was a hazy gray, smoke rising from chimneys and stacks that choked the sky despite the afternoon sun. Buildings of brick, none of wood, were what made up the sprawl, their shapes near uniform and faded reds and whites. As I approached I took note of the people, out here in the outskirts it was all workers, men dressed in overalls, women dressed in what could generously be called sacks, moving about, disappearing in and out of factories and warehouses. There were no rooftop wyverns here either, a few were on the roads that I could see, mostly the brute types used for hauling heavy loads, but the roofs all had spikes installed on them to rather disenchant any hopeful wyvern's idea of acting like a hawk.
The train curved, turning towards the city center as the buildings changed in both scope and purpose. Factories and warehouses transitioned to long and straight streets filled with shops, and beyond them, a large and stinking river choked with boats. London was the center of all industry for England, and it seemed quite proud to show that fact as I watched it all pass by me. Pure waters turned brown, brick buildings turned… brown, thousands if not tens of thousands of people visible as we hurtled past.
… I didn't admittedly have much taste for it.
It was a good ten minutes more of travel before the train turned once more and started to head for the railway station. A gigantic structure built like a tent, with large openings in the front and back for a train to slide into. Glasgow was busy, this was worse. Dozens of trains have pulled in here, and my view to either side was quickly blocked by stocky cargo cars. The walkway in between them, however, compared to Glasgow, was massive. Easily two dozen feet or so, lined with carts and carriages waiting to pull passengers or cargo off the trains and into London itself.
It was a good minute later when the train slowed to a stop, and I found myself walking out of the cage lest I be carried off with it. A crane, before unnoticed, lowered itself from the ceiling to grab onto the top of the cage, the beast within letting out a noise of fright as it was shakily lifted up, then dropped onto a cart hooked onto a nearby carriage. Then as I watched the carriage pulled around the one in front of it and made its way down the row of cars. I stepped off myself, my shoes clicking on the stone walkway as I made my way down it towards the front… section, of the train. By the time I made my way there, it was to find Crawford waiting for me besides the carriage in question, a slight smile on his face as he looked me up and down. "How was your trip?"
"Well enough," I replied, stepping past him into the carriage. "Bit windy."
"I would say. In fact, I dare say you probably had a better view than I did." Crawford said glibly, sliding into the carriage and shutting the door behind him. The man's clothes had a fair bit less wrinkles than mine did, but I hadn't exactly planned on spending the day in a windstorm either. It didn't matter in the long run, my clothes, in comparison, were far less than fancy, and it was damn hard to make a tartan wrinkle, to begin with. As I stared at him Crawford knocked his hand on the wood behind him, and a few seconds later the carriage started a slow movement forward. "Welcome to London Arthur."
I continued to stare at him for a moment, then turned my gaze to the window. "This all seems too well planned, the crane, the carriage."
Crawford shrugged. "I make multiple trips to London a year, it only takes a telegram message to let my associates know I'm coming."
"Associates?" I asked.
"Business partners," Crawford explained. "I don't sit on the family wealth, I expand it. And I do believe you have led us both to a rather… interesting opportunity."
I arched a brow, bringing my gaze back from the street the carriage just rode onto to focus on him. "Are ya tryin' to sound ominous? Or is this just how ya are normally?"
Crawford grinned, leaning back in his seat and propping his arms up so they rested along the top of it. "Apologies my good man, merely making business plans. What do you think of London so far?"
"Ah can appreciate how much effort it must have taken to build it, but the average building here is probably worth more than the three towns that surround my farm," I replied.
Crawford chuckled. "A not inaccurate assessment of this part of London. But we should be coming up on our first stop now actually. The stables."
"Stables?" I blinked, looking out the window to see the carriage turning into a tunnel. It was a large brick building, three stories high and built rectangularly like everything else around it, but what separated it from its peers was the large tunnel in the front, a stone construction gently going down that the horse carefully worked its way through. It went down what I'd estimate to be a good thirty feet or so before it levelled out, and I found myself in what appeared to be a gigantic cellar. It was not a gigantic structure, mayhaps just a small amount larger than the building above in total size, but it was filled with barrels and cages. A glance at the barrels showed them to be containing water going by the markings, hoses going into them to spray at a moment's notice. The cages are… well, at this point I had well and truly figured it out. "You keep the wyverns underground?"
The carriage came to a stop as Crawford replied, a group of men shouting behind my head. "To avoid a fire hazard, yes."
The carriage lifted slightly, and I glanced back to see the entire cart behind separated and pulled away, the wyvern standing in its cage and trying to steady itself as a group of men pulled it along. "Ah understand the dangers of a fire hazard, but would ya keep ah bird underground? It's an animal, how long do ya plan on keeping it caged underground like a miner's bird?"
"Unless a home is specifically built to house one, which most people that work in the arenas or keep one as pets long term do, it is simply unfeasible to keep one around," Crawford explained. "In any case, this one will not be kept here for very long."
I stared at him but said nothing as the carriage started moving again, and I didn't speak until we reached our next destination.
---
London was an ugly city, filthy, noisy, and full of a stink I couldn't describe. Despite the nice clothes of the men and women on the sidewalk as I made my way up to the building, that was the main thought that played through my head as I moved through the thin crowd and towards the door Crawford was standing beside. It was a relatively squat building compared to those around it, but far grander despite. Two stories and made of white marble, large windows on the front dark like lacquer gave glances inside to men sitting behind desks, and more than likely doing the work of numbers. A look above the door names the building, a golden plaque set behind two wyvern busts, 'Royal Wyverns'.
The transition from outside to in was stark, the stink of the city outside was replaced by that of ink and paper, and I blinked my eyes several times to adjust to the relatively dim light of the interior before I got a look around myself. The interior was made of wood, segmented into little offices that men and women are working diligently inside. Each office had a little plaque above it, denoting its purpose: 'Registration', 'Processing', and more that I couldn't make heads or tails of.
Crawford stepped past me, making his way over to the door marked 'registration', "Ah'll just find a place to sit," I remarked. "Already feel well enough out of place already."
Crawford gave me a wry smile but said nothing as he made his way over to the door and stepped inside of it. I myself made my way over to a seat parked next to one of the windows and plopped right down on it. The scent of ink was heavier than it was even in my school days, and I let myself settle in and rel-
"A Scotsman?" a female voice spoke up, sounding more surprised than accusatory despite how the words could be construed.
I glanced to the side, looking to find the speaker. It didn't take long, standing just beside the bench, having apparently walked out of one of the offices is a young woman. A rather pretty face with green eyes and curly red hair tied up in a bun. She was wearing a white dress and staring down at me with curiosity.
"Is it the tartan that gives me away?" I asked.
"The smell." She replied, a slight smile gracing her features.
I stared at her, "ah, Irish."
"Morrigan," the woman supplied with a nod. Her accent was upper class but had that Gaelic lilt to it that shows her true colors. Those colors being of course, green.
"Arthur, pleasure to make your acquaintance. Do ya insult all the men ya meet or just the Scottish?"
The smile on her face grew a touch. "Oh, no, don't be insulted. You smell of sweat and dirt, that mixed with the tartan tells me you couldn't be an Englishman."
"Aye, and thank the gods for that ya paddy," I replied, a smile gracing my own face.
"What brings you to Royal Wyverns, jock?" Morrigan asked.
"Looking for the owner of one that crashed into my barn," I replied, gesturing to the window across the way where Crawford was talking rather animatedly to a rather fat gentleman. "... Friend of mine helping me out, what's it to a mick?"
"Pure curiosity," Morrigan said, head tilting slightly before she glanced towards the front door. "What's the breed?"
I thought back to what McDunnough said. "A Caucus Skyracer I believe."
Morrigan's eyebrows rose. "Fascinating, a rather fast breed, good agility. Poor in anything related to strength however."
My own rose. "A fascination with wyverns, lass?"
"A professional interest," Morrigan answered. Then her eyes move to the door. "But I must be going, pleasant talking to you."
I nodded. "Same to you lass."
With that she walked past me, pausing briefly at the door before looking back. "Good luck scotch."
"Aye, same to whatever you are doing, bog-trotter."
With that she opened the door and stepped through… at least someone talked normally in this town. I stared after her, idly looking at her form before I heard the door click open across the way. Looking back I saw Crawford stepping out of the office, a wide smile on his face. "Mr. Wellbrook. They are sending him a telegram now with the meeting details."
"... Pardon?"
Crawford paused midstep, a slightly embarrassed look on his face before he recovered. "The owner of the wyvern is a Mr. Wellbrook, a lord actually. They are sending him a message to meet us in the stables so we can discuss the situation."
A lord? Well, he may attempt to just buy me off and send me on my way then, that, or make me kiss his shoes. "When is this meeting?"
"A half-hour," Crawford answered. "We best make to the carriage."
---
"Aye, I know it isn't comfortable," I said quietly. Glancing over to the cage beside me the beast was laying in. The cage they had it in was almost smaller than the one on the train, and it was looking particularly miserable as we waited. They had moved the cage of the beast off towards the back, it is one of two present, the other being a truly gargantuan brute they have in an equally large cage, all four of its limbs shackled to the ground and a steel muzzle over its mouth. "Do you know anything about this Wellbrook?" I asked Crawford, the man leaning against the wall next to me.
"It's an old family, made their name in the civil war. I'm afraid I don't know much about the man himself, beyond the fact he is quite wealthy." Crawford answered.
I nod. "Wealthy enough for a carriage with gold decoration?" I asked, gesturing towards the carriage that was making its way down the ramp.
The carriage in question was rather… ostentatious, even compared to Crawford's. Blue siding with gold trimming all around. It came to a stop just a few feet away and the driver quickly hopped off the side to open the door. Stepping out was… an Englishman, pure and simple. He was dressed in a fine red jacket with golden trim, laying over a pure white silk undershirt. His hair was pure white, not wig nor powered, but rather a product of the rather advanced age the man was. If I was to guess I would say the man was in his mid sixties, but despite his age there is a spry to his step as he made his way over to us.
… But he wasn't what I was focusing on.
What I was focusing on was the fact that the moment the man became visible, the wyvern's wings began to twitch.
---
We are now caught up with the thread on SB.
---
My hand landed on the wyvern's head as I laid back against its body. The beast rumbled slightly, it's head had turned towards me to watch as I rested my head on its barrel. "Well, if ya ain't comfortable, ah ain't gonna be comfortable either ya big dumb lizard. Sides, yer warm." Indeed the beast was, an internal heat radiating from it that did well to fight the chill of the wind. It wasn't a particularly cold day, but with how rapidly I was travelling through the landscape it was a godsend against the wet and cold Atlantic air.
The beast let out another grunt, head laying down onto the train's car as it stared off ahead. "Aye, ah know ya want to fly beastie. We'll get this all sorted, and we can both be happy, sound good?"
Another growl sounded out, and I chuckled and pointed off towards the west. "See that? Torquhan, me great great great grandfather was from there." The train passed by the rolling hills, manor houses dotting the landscape. It wasn't a good farming country, but my ancestors made do regardless. The blood of farmers had been running in my veins as far back as the tales could tell, da' had always told me we were descended from the MacAlpin's, but I certainly never felt particularly kingly. That and nary less than half of all Scots said there were descending from the first king anyways. I was never sure whether they were lying, if the MacAlpin's were horny as an uncut goat, or both. During my internal musings, the scene had shifted, going from the distant homes of Torquhan, to the relatively bustling village of Stow. The train continued on, not bothering to stop at its station as it sped along the borders.
I leaned back against the barrel of the beast again, letting out a breath as Scotland passed me by. It was still several more hours to London, and I would admit some interest in seeing it pass by me, I was already farther south than my father had ever been, and in due time I would have travelled further than my grandparents as well. It was an odd feeling, not… wrong exactly, but nervousness I supposed, the feeling one tends to get when they are standing outside the schoolhouse for their first day, worried they won't fit in properly, or that they are stepping into a world they knew nothing about.
Though I supposed the latter was accurate regardless.
I glanced back at the beast, its eyes had closed as it laid down. It clearly wasn't fascinated by the countryside, though given its rather excited entrance it probably saw more of it at a better angle than I ever could. Still, it had the right idea, and I closed my own eyes as I let the warmth of the beast suffuse me.
Soon, London.
Soon… opportunity.
---
I was awoken several hours later by the deep booming whistle of the train, my eyes snapped open, both I and the wyvern raised our heads in curiosity to see what the fuss was about. Then my eyes widened. Stretching as far as I could see in either direction was a truly gargantuan city, a roar of wind passed me back, and I shrunk back as a train screamed past on a track going the opposite direction. It's horn blasts in the air, momentarily deafening me as I stumbled up and onto my feet.
The sky above the city was a hazy gray, smoke rising from chimneys and stacks that choked the sky despite the afternoon sun. Buildings of brick, none of wood, were what made up the sprawl, their shapes near uniform and faded reds and whites. As I approached I took note of the people, out here in the outskirts it was all workers, men dressed in overalls, women dressed in what could generously be called sacks, moving about, disappearing in and out of factories and warehouses. There were no rooftop wyverns here either, a few were on the roads that I could see, mostly the brute types used for hauling heavy loads, but the roofs all had spikes installed on them to rather disenchant any hopeful wyvern's idea of acting like a hawk.
The train curved, turning towards the city center as the buildings changed in both scope and purpose. Factories and warehouses transitioned to long and straight streets filled with shops, and beyond them, a large and stinking river choked with boats. London was the center of all industry for England, and it seemed quite proud to show that fact as I watched it all pass by me. Pure waters turned brown, brick buildings turned… brown, thousands if not tens of thousands of people visible as we hurtled past.
… I didn't admittedly have much taste for it.
It was a good ten minutes more of travel before the train turned once more and started to head for the railway station. A gigantic structure built like a tent, with large openings in the front and back for a train to slide into. Glasgow was busy, this was worse. Dozens of trains have pulled in here, and my view to either side was quickly blocked by stocky cargo cars. The walkway in between them, however, compared to Glasgow, was massive. Easily two dozen feet or so, lined with carts and carriages waiting to pull passengers or cargo off the trains and into London itself.
It was a good minute later when the train slowed to a stop, and I found myself walking out of the cage lest I be carried off with it. A crane, before unnoticed, lowered itself from the ceiling to grab onto the top of the cage, the beast within letting out a noise of fright as it was shakily lifted up, then dropped onto a cart hooked onto a nearby carriage. Then as I watched the carriage pulled around the one in front of it and made its way down the row of cars. I stepped off myself, my shoes clicking on the stone walkway as I made my way down it towards the front… section, of the train. By the time I made my way there, it was to find Crawford waiting for me besides the carriage in question, a slight smile on his face as he looked me up and down. "How was your trip?"
"Well enough," I replied, stepping past him into the carriage. "Bit windy."
"I would say. In fact, I dare say you probably had a better view than I did." Crawford said glibly, sliding into the carriage and shutting the door behind him. The man's clothes had a fair bit less wrinkles than mine did, but I hadn't exactly planned on spending the day in a windstorm either. It didn't matter in the long run, my clothes, in comparison, were far less than fancy, and it was damn hard to make a tartan wrinkle, to begin with. As I stared at him Crawford knocked his hand on the wood behind him, and a few seconds later the carriage started a slow movement forward. "Welcome to London Arthur."
I continued to stare at him for a moment, then turned my gaze to the window. "This all seems too well planned, the crane, the carriage."
Crawford shrugged. "I make multiple trips to London a year, it only takes a telegram message to let my associates know I'm coming."
"Associates?" I asked.
"Business partners," Crawford explained. "I don't sit on the family wealth, I expand it. And I do believe you have led us both to a rather… interesting opportunity."
I arched a brow, bringing my gaze back from the street the carriage just rode onto to focus on him. "Are ya tryin' to sound ominous? Or is this just how ya are normally?"
Crawford grinned, leaning back in his seat and propping his arms up so they rested along the top of it. "Apologies my good man, merely making business plans. What do you think of London so far?"
"Ah can appreciate how much effort it must have taken to build it, but the average building here is probably worth more than the three towns that surround my farm," I replied.
Crawford chuckled. "A not inaccurate assessment of this part of London. But we should be coming up on our first stop now actually. The stables."
"Stables?" I blinked, looking out the window to see the carriage turning into a tunnel. It was a large brick building, three stories high and built rectangularly like everything else around it, but what separated it from its peers was the large tunnel in the front, a stone construction gently going down that the horse carefully worked its way through. It went down what I'd estimate to be a good thirty feet or so before it levelled out, and I found myself in what appeared to be a gigantic cellar. It was not a gigantic structure, mayhaps just a small amount larger than the building above in total size, but it was filled with barrels and cages. A glance at the barrels showed them to be containing water going by the markings, hoses going into them to spray at a moment's notice. The cages are… well, at this point I had well and truly figured it out. "You keep the wyverns underground?"
The carriage came to a stop as Crawford replied, a group of men shouting behind my head. "To avoid a fire hazard, yes."
The carriage lifted slightly, and I glanced back to see the entire cart behind separated and pulled away, the wyvern standing in its cage and trying to steady itself as a group of men pulled it along. "Ah understand the dangers of a fire hazard, but would ya keep ah bird underground? It's an animal, how long do ya plan on keeping it caged underground like a miner's bird?"
"Unless a home is specifically built to house one, which most people that work in the arenas or keep one as pets long term do, it is simply unfeasible to keep one around," Crawford explained. "In any case, this one will not be kept here for very long."
I stared at him but said nothing as the carriage started moving again, and I didn't speak until we reached our next destination.
---
London was an ugly city, filthy, noisy, and full of a stink I couldn't describe. Despite the nice clothes of the men and women on the sidewalk as I made my way up to the building, that was the main thought that played through my head as I moved through the thin crowd and towards the door Crawford was standing beside. It was a relatively squat building compared to those around it, but far grander despite. Two stories and made of white marble, large windows on the front dark like lacquer gave glances inside to men sitting behind desks, and more than likely doing the work of numbers. A look above the door names the building, a golden plaque set behind two wyvern busts, 'Royal Wyverns'.
The transition from outside to in was stark, the stink of the city outside was replaced by that of ink and paper, and I blinked my eyes several times to adjust to the relatively dim light of the interior before I got a look around myself. The interior was made of wood, segmented into little offices that men and women are working diligently inside. Each office had a little plaque above it, denoting its purpose: 'Registration', 'Processing', and more that I couldn't make heads or tails of.
Crawford stepped past me, making his way over to the door marked 'registration', "Ah'll just find a place to sit," I remarked. "Already feel well enough out of place already."
Crawford gave me a wry smile but said nothing as he made his way over to the door and stepped inside of it. I myself made my way over to a seat parked next to one of the windows and plopped right down on it. The scent of ink was heavier than it was even in my school days, and I let myself settle in and rel-
"A Scotsman?" a female voice spoke up, sounding more surprised than accusatory despite how the words could be construed.
I glanced to the side, looking to find the speaker. It didn't take long, standing just beside the bench, having apparently walked out of one of the offices is a young woman. A rather pretty face with green eyes and curly red hair tied up in a bun. She was wearing a white dress and staring down at me with curiosity.
"Is it the tartan that gives me away?" I asked.
"The smell." She replied, a slight smile gracing her features.
I stared at her, "ah, Irish."
"Morrigan," the woman supplied with a nod. Her accent was upper class but had that Gaelic lilt to it that shows her true colors. Those colors being of course, green.
"Arthur, pleasure to make your acquaintance. Do ya insult all the men ya meet or just the Scottish?"
The smile on her face grew a touch. "Oh, no, don't be insulted. You smell of sweat and dirt, that mixed with the tartan tells me you couldn't be an Englishman."
"Aye, and thank the gods for that ya paddy," I replied, a smile gracing my own face.
"What brings you to Royal Wyverns, jock?" Morrigan asked.
"Looking for the owner of one that crashed into my barn," I replied, gesturing to the window across the way where Crawford was talking rather animatedly to a rather fat gentleman. "... Friend of mine helping me out, what's it to a mick?"
"Pure curiosity," Morrigan said, head tilting slightly before she glanced towards the front door. "What's the breed?"
I thought back to what McDunnough said. "A Caucus Skyracer I believe."
Morrigan's eyebrows rose. "Fascinating, a rather fast breed, good agility. Poor in anything related to strength however."
My own rose. "A fascination with wyverns, lass?"
"A professional interest," Morrigan answered. Then her eyes move to the door. "But I must be going, pleasant talking to you."
I nodded. "Same to you lass."
With that she walked past me, pausing briefly at the door before looking back. "Good luck scotch."
"Aye, same to whatever you are doing, bog-trotter."
With that she opened the door and stepped through… at least someone talked normally in this town. I stared after her, idly looking at her form before I heard the door click open across the way. Looking back I saw Crawford stepping out of the office, a wide smile on his face. "Mr. Wellbrook. They are sending him a telegram now with the meeting details."
"... Pardon?"
Crawford paused midstep, a slightly embarrassed look on his face before he recovered. "The owner of the wyvern is a Mr. Wellbrook, a lord actually. They are sending him a message to meet us in the stables so we can discuss the situation."
A lord? Well, he may attempt to just buy me off and send me on my way then, that, or make me kiss his shoes. "When is this meeting?"
"A half-hour," Crawford answered. "We best make to the carriage."
---
"Aye, I know it isn't comfortable," I said quietly. Glancing over to the cage beside me the beast was laying in. The cage they had it in was almost smaller than the one on the train, and it was looking particularly miserable as we waited. They had moved the cage of the beast off towards the back, it is one of two present, the other being a truly gargantuan brute they have in an equally large cage, all four of its limbs shackled to the ground and a steel muzzle over its mouth. "Do you know anything about this Wellbrook?" I asked Crawford, the man leaning against the wall next to me.
"It's an old family, made their name in the civil war. I'm afraid I don't know much about the man himself, beyond the fact he is quite wealthy." Crawford answered.
I nod. "Wealthy enough for a carriage with gold decoration?" I asked, gesturing towards the carriage that was making its way down the ramp.
The carriage in question was rather… ostentatious, even compared to Crawford's. Blue siding with gold trimming all around. It came to a stop just a few feet away and the driver quickly hopped off the side to open the door. Stepping out was… an Englishman, pure and simple. He was dressed in a fine red jacket with golden trim, laying over a pure white silk undershirt. His hair was pure white, not wig nor powered, but rather a product of the rather advanced age the man was. If I was to guess I would say the man was in his mid sixties, but despite his age there is a spry to his step as he made his way over to us.
… But he wasn't what I was focusing on.
What I was focusing on was the fact that the moment the man became visible, the wyvern's wings began to twitch.
---
We are now caught up with the thread on SB.
Chapter 8
Erien
God's Weakest Soldier
- Location
- Georgia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I forced my attention away from the wyvern to focus on the fop instead. He smelled better than half the shit-heap that was the city around him, expensive colognes and soaps blanketing his body enough to make my nose nearly curl. I had known him for less than ten seconds and already I wasn't a fan.
"Good day, Sir Wellbrook," Crawford greets, nodding his head slightly in respect. "My name is Crawford Benningham, I believe this is our first meeting."
The man comes to a stop about a half second before his stomach does. The man was large, the fine clothes only doing so much to hide his girth. Still, there was a rapidity to his steps that showed more strength than his body would suggest. When he spoke it was with an air of the upper class. "And it is a good day indeed Crawford, I must thank you for returning my property to me."
"It… wasn't I actually," Crawford said slowly, then gestured to me. "This is Arthur, your wyvern crashed into and destroyed his barn, along with other parts of his property."
Wellbrook frowned, focusing on my and looking me up and down. "My apologies good man, I am Sir Wellbrook, this wyvern is part of my collection for the arenas. I must thank you for returning it to me, was insurance able to cover the damage?"
I frowned back, though my frown was more than likely for far different reasons. His collection, was it? "Ah don't have any insurance, couldn't afford it even if ah was wantin' fer it."
Wellbrook gave me a blank look, the kind of look a man gives when he can't believe what he is hearing, that, or would rather pretend he didn't understand it. "Would a few pounds do as a thanks? To cover the travel expenses?"
I stepped forward, the frown on my face deepening as I could tell where this conversation was headed already. "Ya owe me. Damn thing wouldn't have run off if it wasn't so mistreated to begin with. Don't know what forms of honor ya have here in London, but in Scotland men square their debts. Ah had to wrestle that thing to the ground and pull a chunk of lumber out of its chest."
Wellbrook looked past me towards the beast, and the light pink scar present on its chest. The wound has healed very well, and you have no doubts the wyvern could fly now if it only had the freedom for it. "As I said, a vagabond freed it, so anything I offer you is mere charity. I cna assure you, charity does not settle debts."
I stared at him, I had halfway expected something like this to happen. My eyes slowly moved from him to the wyvern in the cage, its wings were still twitching, and it had backed up to the far corner to be as far away from Wellbrook as possible. "I'll make a trade for it. I buy the wyvern, we call the deal square."
Wellbrook laughed at that. "What would a jock want with a wyvern? And besides that this is of a rarer breed, you can't possible affor-"
"Then what is your insurance, Wellbrook?" Crawford stepped in at that. "Arthur has a genuine case, as insured or not, the beast was owned by you, registered under your name, stored by your people, and did damage to Arthur's property with witnesses. Including myself I might add. The burden of damages may still fall on your shoulders, if the thief cannot be found."
Wellbrook glared at Crawford, a brief look of consternation passing over his features before he let out a sigh. "Name your price."
"One hundred forty pounds now, and another one hundred sixty in six months."
Welling laughed again, "that wouldn't purchase a whelp of this species"
I nodded. "Aye, but it's that or the courts. And if ah can't offer the other half of the payment in six months ya are free to be takin' the beast back with ye. Flamin' hell, by then the beast may just well be raised properly."
Wellbrook sneered, but said nothing as he offered his hand towards me. I ignored the look of horror and consternation Crawford was giving me, and instead produced the bundle of bills in my pocket and slammed it down in the hand of the nobleman. Wellbrook looked down at it briefly, nodded, then turned around to make his way over to the carriage while I leaned back against the cage.
In short order the carriage was moving again, eventually making it so that Wellbrook was out of sight and I was free to place my hand against my forehead. "That was all of my money," I took a deep breath, ignoring the thought of trying to get one hundred sixty pounds in half a year. "I've got nothing else."
Crawford let out a sigh, one hand moving through his hair as he looked towards the cage. "I can't help you with that, I don't live in London and have to be returning to Glasgow tomorrow. I can offer you a room for tonight at the hotel I'm staying at, but beyond that there isn't anything I could do for you."
"Ah wouldn't ask fer any more to begin with, ya helped me get down here, now this is my mess to clean out. 'Sides, while it was drastic the bastard wasn't going to help me in any case."
"Drastic indeed," a new voice cuts in. And I turned my head to see a new figure approaching from a side door. She was tall and red of hair… and familiarly Irish.
"Good day, Sir Wellbrook," Crawford greets, nodding his head slightly in respect. "My name is Crawford Benningham, I believe this is our first meeting."
The man comes to a stop about a half second before his stomach does. The man was large, the fine clothes only doing so much to hide his girth. Still, there was a rapidity to his steps that showed more strength than his body would suggest. When he spoke it was with an air of the upper class. "And it is a good day indeed Crawford, I must thank you for returning my property to me."
"It… wasn't I actually," Crawford said slowly, then gestured to me. "This is Arthur, your wyvern crashed into and destroyed his barn, along with other parts of his property."
Wellbrook frowned, focusing on my and looking me up and down. "My apologies good man, I am Sir Wellbrook, this wyvern is part of my collection for the arenas. I must thank you for returning it to me, was insurance able to cover the damage?"
I frowned back, though my frown was more than likely for far different reasons. His collection, was it? "Ah don't have any insurance, couldn't afford it even if ah was wantin' fer it."
Wellbrook gave me a blank look, the kind of look a man gives when he can't believe what he is hearing, that, or would rather pretend he didn't understand it. "Would a few pounds do as a thanks? To cover the travel expenses?"
I stepped forward, the frown on my face deepening as I could tell where this conversation was headed already. "Ya owe me. Damn thing wouldn't have run off if it wasn't so mistreated to begin with. Don't know what forms of honor ya have here in London, but in Scotland men square their debts. Ah had to wrestle that thing to the ground and pull a chunk of lumber out of its chest."
Wellbrook looked past me towards the beast, and the light pink scar present on its chest. The wound has healed very well, and you have no doubts the wyvern could fly now if it only had the freedom for it. "As I said, a vagabond freed it, so anything I offer you is mere charity. I cna assure you, charity does not settle debts."
I stared at him, I had halfway expected something like this to happen. My eyes slowly moved from him to the wyvern in the cage, its wings were still twitching, and it had backed up to the far corner to be as far away from Wellbrook as possible. "I'll make a trade for it. I buy the wyvern, we call the deal square."
Wellbrook laughed at that. "What would a jock want with a wyvern? And besides that this is of a rarer breed, you can't possible affor-"
"Then what is your insurance, Wellbrook?" Crawford stepped in at that. "Arthur has a genuine case, as insured or not, the beast was owned by you, registered under your name, stored by your people, and did damage to Arthur's property with witnesses. Including myself I might add. The burden of damages may still fall on your shoulders, if the thief cannot be found."
Wellbrook glared at Crawford, a brief look of consternation passing over his features before he let out a sigh. "Name your price."
"One hundred forty pounds now, and another one hundred sixty in six months."
Welling laughed again, "that wouldn't purchase a whelp of this species"
I nodded. "Aye, but it's that or the courts. And if ah can't offer the other half of the payment in six months ya are free to be takin' the beast back with ye. Flamin' hell, by then the beast may just well be raised properly."
Wellbrook sneered, but said nothing as he offered his hand towards me. I ignored the look of horror and consternation Crawford was giving me, and instead produced the bundle of bills in my pocket and slammed it down in the hand of the nobleman. Wellbrook looked down at it briefly, nodded, then turned around to make his way over to the carriage while I leaned back against the cage.
In short order the carriage was moving again, eventually making it so that Wellbrook was out of sight and I was free to place my hand against my forehead. "That was all of my money," I took a deep breath, ignoring the thought of trying to get one hundred sixty pounds in half a year. "I've got nothing else."
Crawford let out a sigh, one hand moving through his hair as he looked towards the cage. "I can't help you with that, I don't live in London and have to be returning to Glasgow tomorrow. I can offer you a room for tonight at the hotel I'm staying at, but beyond that there isn't anything I could do for you."
"Ah wouldn't ask fer any more to begin with, ya helped me get down here, now this is my mess to clean out. 'Sides, while it was drastic the bastard wasn't going to help me in any case."
"Drastic indeed," a new voice cuts in. And I turned my head to see a new figure approaching from a side door. She was tall and red of hair… and familiarly Irish.
The Crimson King
It's possible to eat an orange with just teeth.
- Location
- America
Man, Arthur, be careful. You literally just gave up all of your money, and you're going up against this big businessman. He's going to play dirty, and he's going to try to get back that wyvern.
Erien
God's Weakest Soldier
- Location
- Georgia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
He's dancing with the devil.
Chapter 9
Erien
God's Weakest Soldier
- Location
- Georgia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Thanks to @Armoury for the beta!
---
I stared at Morrigan as she approached, her expression was a damn near unreadable mask, not that I had much ability to read faces to begin with. A cow? Sure. A woman? Not so lucky, and the girls in town teased me about it more than once. The fact that she was being rather judgmental was only gleaned by her tone when she spoke.
"Four thousand pound." She said idly, coming to a stop just a few feet in front of me. Her eyes looked me up and down before shifting over to the cage. "It is a rarer wyvern, and for a fully grown adult that would be the going market price." Her gaze then turned back to me, still unreadable. "You have placed yourself in quite a conundrum."
I moved one hand into my pocket, the other gesturing… vaguely. It was true, but that didn't mean I was looking to advertise it either. "Aye, and how much of that did ya hear of my private business?" I didn't know her from Eve and I certainly didn't know her better than Wellbrook, one minute of pleasant conversation in a lobby was not enough to make me friendly to someone listening in on my business dealings.
"This is the public stables," Morrigan replied. "All business here is as public as one hears, and I heard all of it. It was a foolish deal."
I shifted my stance slightly, glancing over at Crawford who was merely staring at the woman in confusion. Which likely meant this was someone he didn't recognize. "Regardless, what's it to ya?"
Morrigan pursed her lips, green eyes going over the wyvern in the cage again. "I would make you a deal. I will pay you full price for the wyvern. Which you can use to pay off Wellbrook. The deal has witnesses, so he can't back out of it, you can then take the rest of the money yourself and use it to rebuild your farm." She then gestured towards the entrance. "Wellbrook can suffer the consequences of his actions, and you can leave London happily. Doesn't that sound like a fair deal?"
A chill ran through me, and for a moment I swore my heart stopped beating. Thirty-seven hundred pounds, that would be enough to rebuild the barn and a good dozen more. That kind of money was more than my family had ever owned along its entire history, going back to the first days of the family tree. My eyes looked over to Crawford again, and the man gave me a slight nod. It seems his mind was heading in the same direction mine was.
I then looked back towards the cag-
The beast was staring at me, not at the woman, not at Crawford, not at the tunnel Wellbrook left from. At myself. It didn't shift, it hardly seemed to breathe… It seemed frightened, and there was still just the faintest twitch to its wings.
I drew in a breath. "What gender is the wyvern?"
"Female," Crawford replied. "You can tell by the formation of the scales near the tail."
I nodded, not bothering to see what he was pointing out but believing him regardless. "Then her name is Beithir."
"Beithir?" Crawford repeated.
"Aye, if ya cut off the head of a snake but don't separate it from its body it comes back to life. A great legged destructive beast. And this lass is most definitely destructive. Frankly ah like that about 'er." I looked back at Morrigan and shook my head. "And ah'm not sellin' 'er to some noblewoman that'll probably treat her the same as that last bastard."
Morrigan's face turned cross before she let out a deep laugh that echoed in the underground stable. "Do not think to compare me to that… that dry shite! What do ya even plan on doing with the wyvern? Crash it into the other racers or brawlers until they surrender out of pity? Or dew ya plan on doin' stage shows to entertain the alley children?"
I arched a brow as her tongue took on the touch of Eire. She seemed to have lost all touch of her higher self once she started to laugh. "Ah haven't thought it that far out, but ah am not giving it back to that bastard. And ah am not giving it back to the first nobleman that comes asking either. I'll scrounge up the money in some way, but ah don't like the way things are run in London." I gestured to the wyvern, and Morrigan's face was a painting of seriousness once more. "On ma' farm cattle are a tool, not a pet, but ya don't treat the animals cruelly. Ah don't know half of what ya city types use 'em fer, but maybe ya forgot about the fact they have a brain of their own, aye?"
Silence filled the air after that statement, Crawford's face was nearly as unreadable as Morrigan's. The man had been oddly silent this entire conversation, and barring my question about Beithir's gender had seen fit to allow me to do the majority of the talking, rather odd for what I knew of the man so far.
That observation was quickly pulled away by the slight smile on Morrigan's face. "I take it you are refusing my offer then?"
"Ah am, ya can take yer deal and stuff it. Ah'm not a particular fan of the London nobility at the moment. Ah'll keep the wyvern."
Morrigan nodded. "Then I will offer you a new deal. You can keep the wyvern, and I will teach you how to use it so you can show Wellbrook precisely where he can put his head in his arse."
"... Pardon?" I said slowly.
"I do not know where you get off insulting me like that, jock. But if you have such a high mind that you can take care of her better than I could, fine. Impress me. My carriage is currently being cleaned, then we can take her to my estate in Dover. I run the wyvern-riding school there after all."
… Pardon?
---
Last short chapter I swear, college has me so damn busy.
---
I stared at Morrigan as she approached, her expression was a damn near unreadable mask, not that I had much ability to read faces to begin with. A cow? Sure. A woman? Not so lucky, and the girls in town teased me about it more than once. The fact that she was being rather judgmental was only gleaned by her tone when she spoke.
"Four thousand pound." She said idly, coming to a stop just a few feet in front of me. Her eyes looked me up and down before shifting over to the cage. "It is a rarer wyvern, and for a fully grown adult that would be the going market price." Her gaze then turned back to me, still unreadable. "You have placed yourself in quite a conundrum."
I moved one hand into my pocket, the other gesturing… vaguely. It was true, but that didn't mean I was looking to advertise it either. "Aye, and how much of that did ya hear of my private business?" I didn't know her from Eve and I certainly didn't know her better than Wellbrook, one minute of pleasant conversation in a lobby was not enough to make me friendly to someone listening in on my business dealings.
"This is the public stables," Morrigan replied. "All business here is as public as one hears, and I heard all of it. It was a foolish deal."
I shifted my stance slightly, glancing over at Crawford who was merely staring at the woman in confusion. Which likely meant this was someone he didn't recognize. "Regardless, what's it to ya?"
Morrigan pursed her lips, green eyes going over the wyvern in the cage again. "I would make you a deal. I will pay you full price for the wyvern. Which you can use to pay off Wellbrook. The deal has witnesses, so he can't back out of it, you can then take the rest of the money yourself and use it to rebuild your farm." She then gestured towards the entrance. "Wellbrook can suffer the consequences of his actions, and you can leave London happily. Doesn't that sound like a fair deal?"
A chill ran through me, and for a moment I swore my heart stopped beating. Thirty-seven hundred pounds, that would be enough to rebuild the barn and a good dozen more. That kind of money was more than my family had ever owned along its entire history, going back to the first days of the family tree. My eyes looked over to Crawford again, and the man gave me a slight nod. It seems his mind was heading in the same direction mine was.
I then looked back towards the cag-
The beast was staring at me, not at the woman, not at Crawford, not at the tunnel Wellbrook left from. At myself. It didn't shift, it hardly seemed to breathe… It seemed frightened, and there was still just the faintest twitch to its wings.
I drew in a breath. "What gender is the wyvern?"
"Female," Crawford replied. "You can tell by the formation of the scales near the tail."
I nodded, not bothering to see what he was pointing out but believing him regardless. "Then her name is Beithir."
"Beithir?" Crawford repeated.
"Aye, if ya cut off the head of a snake but don't separate it from its body it comes back to life. A great legged destructive beast. And this lass is most definitely destructive. Frankly ah like that about 'er." I looked back at Morrigan and shook my head. "And ah'm not sellin' 'er to some noblewoman that'll probably treat her the same as that last bastard."
Morrigan's face turned cross before she let out a deep laugh that echoed in the underground stable. "Do not think to compare me to that… that dry shite! What do ya even plan on doing with the wyvern? Crash it into the other racers or brawlers until they surrender out of pity? Or dew ya plan on doin' stage shows to entertain the alley children?"
I arched a brow as her tongue took on the touch of Eire. She seemed to have lost all touch of her higher self once she started to laugh. "Ah haven't thought it that far out, but ah am not giving it back to that bastard. And ah am not giving it back to the first nobleman that comes asking either. I'll scrounge up the money in some way, but ah don't like the way things are run in London." I gestured to the wyvern, and Morrigan's face was a painting of seriousness once more. "On ma' farm cattle are a tool, not a pet, but ya don't treat the animals cruelly. Ah don't know half of what ya city types use 'em fer, but maybe ya forgot about the fact they have a brain of their own, aye?"
Silence filled the air after that statement, Crawford's face was nearly as unreadable as Morrigan's. The man had been oddly silent this entire conversation, and barring my question about Beithir's gender had seen fit to allow me to do the majority of the talking, rather odd for what I knew of the man so far.
That observation was quickly pulled away by the slight smile on Morrigan's face. "I take it you are refusing my offer then?"
"Ah am, ya can take yer deal and stuff it. Ah'm not a particular fan of the London nobility at the moment. Ah'll keep the wyvern."
Morrigan nodded. "Then I will offer you a new deal. You can keep the wyvern, and I will teach you how to use it so you can show Wellbrook precisely where he can put his head in his arse."
"... Pardon?" I said slowly.
"I do not know where you get off insulting me like that, jock. But if you have such a high mind that you can take care of her better than I could, fine. Impress me. My carriage is currently being cleaned, then we can take her to my estate in Dover. I run the wyvern-riding school there after all."
… Pardon?
---
Last short chapter I swear, college has me so damn busy.
Roadie
A plate full of blins and a cat nearby.
You've got some confusion of tenses in the third part.
Erien
God's Weakest Soldier
- Location
- Georgia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Chapter 10
Erien
God's Weakest Soldier
- Location
- Georgia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Thanks to @Armoury for the beta!
---
I walked side by side with Morrigan through the city, the previously dim light of the late afternoon having transitioned deep into the evening. Lamps lined the roadways, casting a sickly, unnatural yellow light on the roads. The moon and stars, normally a bright comfort on nights such as this, were completely hidden by the smoke of the factories running even into the night. Even if the smoke had not been present, I had heard that all the lights in well-lit cities made it impossible to see the stars anyway. And around here 'well-lit' probably did not cover it; outside the alleys, of which there were very few in this part of town, the city was damn bright. Enough that as I walked with Morrigan at my side I had little fear of tripping or getting lost, not that I expected her to allow such a thing in any case.
Morrigan and I had been walking in near silence for at least half an hour. Occasionally one of us would attempt conversation, but we would quickly and inevitably return to silent walking. I had stayed, briefly, at the room Crawford had rented before saying goodbye to the man and splitting from his company. A kind enough man, though for someone that claimed to be passionate about these animals, he seemed to have very little care for how they were treated. It was from there I met Morrigan once more, the woman gracing me with little more than a smile and a greeting before she asked me to walk with her through the city. She had decided to walk to her carriage instead of simply driving it into the city, but that did not bother me. After the hours of carriage and train rides, the excuse to use my legs was a hidden blessing.
The businesses, of which hardly any seemed to have closed, kept the streets well-illuminated as well. Orange and yellows cast by their lights making the pavement easy to walk on. The farther we went from where I was staying the more prominent they were, and what they were changed as well. At the start they were law firms and other… places, I didn't know what they were for, really. Now as I walked more and more places of entertainment began to pop up, gambling dens, pubs, brothels and the like. The shift surprised me; while the city was filthy, I didn't expect such places to be so prominent and in the center of it. Laughs, cheers and jeers filled the air as we walked, and I found myself walking slightly closer to Morrigan than I would otherwise. Though the woman herself hardly seemed to care or pay any of it much attention, despite how many… louts were wandering about.
I'd touched the drink myself, at least when it was practical to afford it. But the men in these parts seem to have made it some form of national sport if the stumbling is anything to go by.
"Where in god's green earth are we goin'?" I asked, turning my head to Morrigan as I spoke.
"Eyes ahead Arthur, were you not so transfixed by the pubs you would see that we are nearly at our destination." Morrigan replied, idly raising a hand in the process to gesture forward.
I followed the gesture with my eyes and nearly stumbled as I took in the scale of the building ahead of us. The street we were walking on widened considerably, transitioning to a giant open space with a singular building at the center. It was like a big farm field ready for crops, flat and wide, but this one had a building that took up the vast majority of its space. It was at least four stories tall you guessed, and made of bare stone, little in the way of windows to decorate the walls. But what it lost in relative plainness compared to the surrounding area of London it more than made up in sheer size. Easily larger than my fields back home, my head panned left to right to look over the sheer size of the thing before I truly recognized what it was for.
Lanterns were placed along the top of the structure, gas-fueled like most in the city, they flickered in and out every few seconds, going in a twinkling pattern around the building itself like a star travelling across the night sky. Along the roof itself, which I could not see from where I was, were men. Some holding flags, others holding lanterns that they were waving up into the air. As I watched a roar filled the air, and my head snapped up to watch as a Wyvern came down gently towards the building, wings flapping wildly and the carriage rocking behind it before it came to a walking stop along the roof itself. It was either perfectly flat up there, or there was more to it than met the eye. But I watched in fascination as men quickly moved to guide the beast forward and out of sight towards the center of the structure.
"My…"
"Oh, do pick up your jaw Scot. It's a rather bad look for you."
I heard her, but I wasn't paying attention to her either. Without realizing it I stepped forward and passed her, outpacing Morrigan as I walked through the large open archway that made up the entrance of the structure. Carriages sat parked to either side of me, some loading, some offloading, and I paid attention to precisely none of them as I walked through the wide tunnel and into the center of the structure.
It opened up as soon as I was through it, revealing a large oval-shaped field surrounded by stone terraces. They went up in tiers, and the closest thing I could compare it to was a valley, a large, narrow but tall valley. Wyverns came down in ones and twos, landing on the terraces, men with lanterns guiding the way as the carriages came to a bumpy stop. A fence was directly in front of me, blocking further into the… stadium I supposed. The reason for its existence was revealed a moment later as a Wyvern came running alongside it, carriage wheels rolling loudly against stone before with a single mighty flap of its wings it lifted itself up and over the wall of the stadium itself, the balloon mounted to the top of the carriage allowing it to stay relatively level as the beast took flight and disappeared out of sight.
"So have you found a part of London you like then?" Morrigan's voice spoke up from behind me.
"Aye... " I replied simply. "This… is quite impressive, if a little terrifying to be perfectly honest with ye." I then turned back to see Morrigan gracing me with a slight smile, her face and hair lit by the lanterns of the tunnel to make her already red complexion even more pronounced. "Why are ye doin' this? Not that ah'm not grateful for the help, far from it lass. But ah don't know ye from Eve."
Morrigan brushed past me, then turned to the right and started to make her way along the fence. "To make a mockery of Wellbrook, as I stated. Do I need another?"
I started walking again, taking pace behind her. "A fine reason to be sure, but certainly there must be simpler ways to do that than recruit a farmer who has never so much as left the ground before."
"Never?" Morrigan asked.
"Aye." I replied just as quickly
"Then are you nervous to ride the carriages?" She asked, taking another turn to the left and making her way towards a row of them. Men stand in front of them, all holding small signs with names written on them.
"Aye," I said again. "Seems rather dangerous."
Morrigan tilted her head, pondering what I said for a moment before she shrugged her shoulders. "You do not have to, though that would put a damper on your plans."
I shook my head, a smile coming onto my face at the challenge. "Aye, ah'm nervous. But there is no way in heaven or hell ah am turning down a chance to fly. Ah'd be the first man in my entire shire to do it."
Morrigan let out a light chuckle, "then let us be off."
---
The interior of the carriage was wider than the horse-drawn contraption you were on earlier in the day. It was… fancy; red plush seats with wide curtains that covered the windows. I sat across from Morrigan, the woman a good six feet away, leaning back on the wide curved bench that was on the front of every part of the interior wall beside the doors to either side of the carriage. Behind her was a small piece of glass that I could see the drive through, and the ceiling was covered in small handles that hung down by ropes, to grasp onto if needed.
I lunged for the nearest one the second the carriage started forward, my fingers curled around the wooden handle as the Wyvern pulling the cart started to walk forward. Morrigan was seemingly unbothered by the sudden jerky movements of the vehicle, and I forced myself to at least somewhat relax and let go of the handl-
Those thoughts were crossing my mind as I noticed Morrigan grabbing one near her. With a shout from outside, I felt the carriage jerk forward, a loud stomping like a herd of angry cows sounding out from outside the carriage as the Wyvern picked up speed. My back slammed into the padded cushion, and I grit my teeth as the carriage and everything within it vibrated wildly.
Morrigan for her part was merely glancing out the window in faint interest.
There was a lurch that made me feel weightless for an instant, then it felt like my stomach was about ready to fall out of my ass. The stomping had stopped, instead, all I heard was the sound of wind and felt an odd feeling of acceleration. I turned my head towards the window.
… Then completely forgot all about the handle.
I pressed my face against the glass, hands on either side of the wooden panelling as I watched the golden twinkling of lights pass behind me. Like a starfield lashed to the ground, the lights of London sparkled and shone like jewels beneath me. The carriage tilted slightly, giving a tilted view of the city, enough that it seemingly stretched into the horizon as far as my eyes could see. Like standing on one of the mountains of my shire, but this was… beautiful in a way wholly different than there. There, the world was just barren silhouettes with faint dots of light, here the whole world was revealed from a new angle that was as beautiful as it was terrifying.
My whole body was screaming at me that this was wrong, that I should be falling, that these sights were impossible. But I could not stop myself from grinning like a damned fool.
"Enjoying yourself?" Morrigan asked.
My smile was my answer. Painted by the lights of the passing city below.
---
I walked side by side with Morrigan through the city, the previously dim light of the late afternoon having transitioned deep into the evening. Lamps lined the roadways, casting a sickly, unnatural yellow light on the roads. The moon and stars, normally a bright comfort on nights such as this, were completely hidden by the smoke of the factories running even into the night. Even if the smoke had not been present, I had heard that all the lights in well-lit cities made it impossible to see the stars anyway. And around here 'well-lit' probably did not cover it; outside the alleys, of which there were very few in this part of town, the city was damn bright. Enough that as I walked with Morrigan at my side I had little fear of tripping or getting lost, not that I expected her to allow such a thing in any case.
Morrigan and I had been walking in near silence for at least half an hour. Occasionally one of us would attempt conversation, but we would quickly and inevitably return to silent walking. I had stayed, briefly, at the room Crawford had rented before saying goodbye to the man and splitting from his company. A kind enough man, though for someone that claimed to be passionate about these animals, he seemed to have very little care for how they were treated. It was from there I met Morrigan once more, the woman gracing me with little more than a smile and a greeting before she asked me to walk with her through the city. She had decided to walk to her carriage instead of simply driving it into the city, but that did not bother me. After the hours of carriage and train rides, the excuse to use my legs was a hidden blessing.
The businesses, of which hardly any seemed to have closed, kept the streets well-illuminated as well. Orange and yellows cast by their lights making the pavement easy to walk on. The farther we went from where I was staying the more prominent they were, and what they were changed as well. At the start they were law firms and other… places, I didn't know what they were for, really. Now as I walked more and more places of entertainment began to pop up, gambling dens, pubs, brothels and the like. The shift surprised me; while the city was filthy, I didn't expect such places to be so prominent and in the center of it. Laughs, cheers and jeers filled the air as we walked, and I found myself walking slightly closer to Morrigan than I would otherwise. Though the woman herself hardly seemed to care or pay any of it much attention, despite how many… louts were wandering about.
I'd touched the drink myself, at least when it was practical to afford it. But the men in these parts seem to have made it some form of national sport if the stumbling is anything to go by.
"Where in god's green earth are we goin'?" I asked, turning my head to Morrigan as I spoke.
"Eyes ahead Arthur, were you not so transfixed by the pubs you would see that we are nearly at our destination." Morrigan replied, idly raising a hand in the process to gesture forward.
I followed the gesture with my eyes and nearly stumbled as I took in the scale of the building ahead of us. The street we were walking on widened considerably, transitioning to a giant open space with a singular building at the center. It was like a big farm field ready for crops, flat and wide, but this one had a building that took up the vast majority of its space. It was at least four stories tall you guessed, and made of bare stone, little in the way of windows to decorate the walls. But what it lost in relative plainness compared to the surrounding area of London it more than made up in sheer size. Easily larger than my fields back home, my head panned left to right to look over the sheer size of the thing before I truly recognized what it was for.
Lanterns were placed along the top of the structure, gas-fueled like most in the city, they flickered in and out every few seconds, going in a twinkling pattern around the building itself like a star travelling across the night sky. Along the roof itself, which I could not see from where I was, were men. Some holding flags, others holding lanterns that they were waving up into the air. As I watched a roar filled the air, and my head snapped up to watch as a Wyvern came down gently towards the building, wings flapping wildly and the carriage rocking behind it before it came to a walking stop along the roof itself. It was either perfectly flat up there, or there was more to it than met the eye. But I watched in fascination as men quickly moved to guide the beast forward and out of sight towards the center of the structure.
"My…"
"Oh, do pick up your jaw Scot. It's a rather bad look for you."
I heard her, but I wasn't paying attention to her either. Without realizing it I stepped forward and passed her, outpacing Morrigan as I walked through the large open archway that made up the entrance of the structure. Carriages sat parked to either side of me, some loading, some offloading, and I paid attention to precisely none of them as I walked through the wide tunnel and into the center of the structure.
It opened up as soon as I was through it, revealing a large oval-shaped field surrounded by stone terraces. They went up in tiers, and the closest thing I could compare it to was a valley, a large, narrow but tall valley. Wyverns came down in ones and twos, landing on the terraces, men with lanterns guiding the way as the carriages came to a bumpy stop. A fence was directly in front of me, blocking further into the… stadium I supposed. The reason for its existence was revealed a moment later as a Wyvern came running alongside it, carriage wheels rolling loudly against stone before with a single mighty flap of its wings it lifted itself up and over the wall of the stadium itself, the balloon mounted to the top of the carriage allowing it to stay relatively level as the beast took flight and disappeared out of sight.
"So have you found a part of London you like then?" Morrigan's voice spoke up from behind me.
"Aye... " I replied simply. "This… is quite impressive, if a little terrifying to be perfectly honest with ye." I then turned back to see Morrigan gracing me with a slight smile, her face and hair lit by the lanterns of the tunnel to make her already red complexion even more pronounced. "Why are ye doin' this? Not that ah'm not grateful for the help, far from it lass. But ah don't know ye from Eve."
Morrigan brushed past me, then turned to the right and started to make her way along the fence. "To make a mockery of Wellbrook, as I stated. Do I need another?"
I started walking again, taking pace behind her. "A fine reason to be sure, but certainly there must be simpler ways to do that than recruit a farmer who has never so much as left the ground before."
"Never?" Morrigan asked.
"Aye." I replied just as quickly
"Then are you nervous to ride the carriages?" She asked, taking another turn to the left and making her way towards a row of them. Men stand in front of them, all holding small signs with names written on them.
"Aye," I said again. "Seems rather dangerous."
Morrigan tilted her head, pondering what I said for a moment before she shrugged her shoulders. "You do not have to, though that would put a damper on your plans."
I shook my head, a smile coming onto my face at the challenge. "Aye, ah'm nervous. But there is no way in heaven or hell ah am turning down a chance to fly. Ah'd be the first man in my entire shire to do it."
Morrigan let out a light chuckle, "then let us be off."
---
The interior of the carriage was wider than the horse-drawn contraption you were on earlier in the day. It was… fancy; red plush seats with wide curtains that covered the windows. I sat across from Morrigan, the woman a good six feet away, leaning back on the wide curved bench that was on the front of every part of the interior wall beside the doors to either side of the carriage. Behind her was a small piece of glass that I could see the drive through, and the ceiling was covered in small handles that hung down by ropes, to grasp onto if needed.
I lunged for the nearest one the second the carriage started forward, my fingers curled around the wooden handle as the Wyvern pulling the cart started to walk forward. Morrigan was seemingly unbothered by the sudden jerky movements of the vehicle, and I forced myself to at least somewhat relax and let go of the handl-
Those thoughts were crossing my mind as I noticed Morrigan grabbing one near her. With a shout from outside, I felt the carriage jerk forward, a loud stomping like a herd of angry cows sounding out from outside the carriage as the Wyvern picked up speed. My back slammed into the padded cushion, and I grit my teeth as the carriage and everything within it vibrated wildly.
Morrigan for her part was merely glancing out the window in faint interest.
There was a lurch that made me feel weightless for an instant, then it felt like my stomach was about ready to fall out of my ass. The stomping had stopped, instead, all I heard was the sound of wind and felt an odd feeling of acceleration. I turned my head towards the window.
… Then completely forgot all about the handle.
I pressed my face against the glass, hands on either side of the wooden panelling as I watched the golden twinkling of lights pass behind me. Like a starfield lashed to the ground, the lights of London sparkled and shone like jewels beneath me. The carriage tilted slightly, giving a tilted view of the city, enough that it seemingly stretched into the horizon as far as my eyes could see. Like standing on one of the mountains of my shire, but this was… beautiful in a way wholly different than there. There, the world was just barren silhouettes with faint dots of light, here the whole world was revealed from a new angle that was as beautiful as it was terrifying.
My whole body was screaming at me that this was wrong, that I should be falling, that these sights were impossible. But I could not stop myself from grinning like a damned fool.
"Enjoying yourself?" Morrigan asked.
My smile was my answer. Painted by the lights of the passing city below.
TimEd
Meteor maker
Now to see the transition between a farmer's first flight into becoming an actual competitive flier.
Also the "airports" here are wack. How do they keep their tires from breaking off? They don't even seem to have a ramp for takeoffs. That magic baloon is just such a nice way to handwave all the physics nonsense allowing carriages to be able to keep their distinct look.
Also the "airports" here are wack. How do they keep their tires from breaking off? They don't even seem to have a ramp for takeoffs. That magic baloon is just such a nice way to handwave all the physics nonsense allowing carriages to be able to keep their distinct look.
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Erien
God's Weakest Soldier
- Location
- Georgia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Loud panicked Scottish screaming.
Chapter 11
Erien
God's Weakest Soldier
- Location
- Georgia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Thanks to @Armoury for the beta!
---
I would happily admit to any that asked in the future that I grinned like a damned fool the entire flight from London to Dover. If asked why I didn't bother containing my excitement or acting like the adult I presented myself as it would come down to one simple answer. How could I damn well not? I was a farmer -and a damned good one at that- but coos have a distinct ability to stay on the ground. This… was simply magical.
"You are going to stain my windows if you continue to drool on them." Morrigan said, amusement clear as the glass she spoke of in her voice.
"An' all wash 'em for ya." I replied, not taking my eyes away from the glass.
The sun had well and truly set by the time we had approached Dover, but that didn't stop me from seeing the landscape. The famed white cliffs were well illuminated by the town surrounding it, and lanterns streaked through the night sky as wyverns and carriages just like ours came and went across the channel. A gigantic domed structure sat near the castle on the cliffs, and the light from its interior made the glass glint like a Christmas bauble in a store window, and even from my distance away I could see stands and a gigantic pit square in the middle of it. Through the glass I could also make out a wyvern, white in color, making rapid circles in the air over the stands, it spun and twisted in the air, cartwheeling and putting on a death-defying performance.
Further down the road from it, nearer to one of the cliffs overlooking the town that sat on the beach, was a large oval-shaped building, much the same as the one I left in London. There I could see carriages and heavier ships, dozens of them, either taking off, staying, or coming into England itself. One wyvern, in particular, caught my eye, coming in for a landing, a gargantuan black beast, so black it would be invisible in the night except for the lights tacked along its side. Twin flags hung from the rear of the container it was hauling behind it, the French flag trailing behind in its wake.
"How busy is this town?" I asked a stupid question.
"Dover is the busiest wyvern-port in England. Shipping, tourism, there's hardly a dull moment. Though we aren't going into Dover itself." Morrigan responded.
I looked back to see the woman looking out the opposite window. "We aren't?"
Morrigan shook her head, then pointed out the direction she was looking. "The school is situated about three miles outside of town, best for giving the wyverns space to fly without causing any… accidents."
I slid across the cushioned bench and looked out the opposite pane of glass. There, just faintly in the distance, I could make out a rather large brick building that stood apart from everything else around it. No houses, no other parts of the town were near it, but the building itself was an entire complex, and as we slowly curved to get closer I could make out more of it. The main building was four stories or so tall with a wide flat roof, it didn't even have a center. Instead, a large courtyard made up the middle of the building, something I got a good look at as the carriage made a wide circle to come to a rolling stop in front of the building itself.
To the right of the main building was another large structure, and it was the second building I had ever seen in an oval shape. Except this one was much shorter than the last; it could not possibly be taller than my barn, and that was even if I included the stands that gave it most of its height. The entire center was an open dirt track, through which stood tall posts with large rings sitting atop them. What it was used for was beyond my understanding, but it was easily three to four times longer than the main building itself. Beyond that was the largest of all of the structures, of which there were many more littered throughout the rolling, grassy land the school was situated in.
"What on God's green earth is that?" A gargantuan dome made of metal and glass, easily the size of the track if not bigger, the base of the structure was stone, probably a good dozen feet high before glass piled up from it to form a large half-circle that completely enclosed the building. Through the grass, I could make out trees and rock formations, including a large cliff that jutted proudly over a winding river.
"The aviary," Morrigan responded, and a click of the door revealed that not only had we landed during my gazing, but she had moved to exit the carriage as well. "I can give you the tour once your wyvern arrives, for now, you must be famished."
---
"Your wyvern is on course to arrive tomorrow, just as I promised," Morrigan said simply, popping a bit of the steak into her mouth before lightly dapping at her lips with a napkin. "We shall be starting your training immediately once it has become situated in the aviary. I would suggest rest immediately after dinner."
I nodded as I cut into my meal, far fancier than I was used to… but not quite fancy enough that I felt awkward eating it. I felt more awkward about the building I was currently situated in. The office in London was fancy. Crawford's apartment was nice. This was simply too much. Tall painted walls rose to an arched ceiling, and the arch itself was glinting with some form of gold. The lights inside the building causing it to shine in different ways for every angle I turned my head. The walls were lined with tall windows, so clean and large that when I looked at the courtyard I almost felt like the room was open to the outdoors.
Upon entering the 'grand hall' -as she had called it, though I could not argue against the name- I was quickly sat at a table, whereupon a rather extensive amount of servants had seemingly appeared out of a damned fae's circle to bring in food. The table was longer than my house, and more than likely worth a fair bit more as well. It was only one of many spread across the gigantic hall, the room taking up the entire side of the building I had entered from. It made me nervous, though I tried my best not to show it as I ate. "Thank you fer the dinner. And yer hospitality."
"Welcome, of course," Morrigan replied. "I do hope it is up to your standards."
I arched a brow but carefully said nothing as I finished off the last mouthful. The moment my utensils crossed over the ceramic plates they were both lifted away from the table by a servant, who moved with such smooth, fast grace that I had to wonder if he had somehow known when I would put down my plate before I did. No sooner than I thought that, another servant stepped and gestured… something. I stared at him, attempting to decipher the gesture as he repeated it.
"He's politely offering to show you to your room," Morrigan smirked in my direction, and if I had any doubt she was taking the piss out of me before, she dispelled it with as little as a short breath that was just barely not a giggle.
"Ah… thanks." I stood up and gave Morrigan one final nod with about as much thankfulness as I could muster without words. Her smile became less teasing; kinder, I hoped, though I had not seen enough of her smile to know what that would look like. I stepped out of the grand hall and into one of the two hallways that lead out of it. In this case, it was the western hallway, which quickly cornered and turned north to reveal one straight and relatively thin (in comparison) hallway that went all the way down to the next corner of the building. The relative narrowness of the space afforded extra room along the sides for what I thought to be dorm rooms, as there were a good dozen or so doors along each side. How they managed to fill up this much space I hadn't the slightest idea, but I did not ask the servant. The only sound in the corridor was our shoes clicking and clomping against the decorated stone floor.
As we walked I took in the hallway itself. It was far less tall than the grand hall, though I would have imagined that was in part because the grand hall reached up to the very top of the building itself. Here it was a more manageable height, though it was in all honesty no less grand than the hall itself. Paintings lined the walls between each door, depicting knights like those my father used to tell me about in stories, charging on horseback into raging beasts… wyverns generally. Other's depicted famous historical scenes, most of which I only vaguely recalled from half-remembered history lessons, like that of William the Bastard leading his Norman-Drakes at the battle of Hastings.
In other places, there were statues placed in alcoves, some busts of past students or school members, even full-sized statues of figures of… some renown I was sure. The servant eventually came to a stop at the far end of the hall, to his right was a large wooden door, the only thing distinguishing it from the rest was that it is sat nearest to the corner of the hallway, giving it easy access to a carved nook situated beneath the tall windows that allowed for a view outside.
Without a word, the servant bowed his head and opened the door, and I took the invitation to step inside. It was...
Horrific.
The room was half the size of my entire home, and was disgustingly ornate. A tall and wide bed sat against the far right corner, covered in plush sheets and blankets as it sat a good four feet above the floor itself. A window was just to its left, pouring moonlight into the room and revealing that the place had its own dresser, mirror, two chairs and a rug that more than likely cost more than any of the coo I had sold to get here.
I stared at it, not saying a word as the door was closed behind me. A fireplace sat in the far left corner, sealed with an empty rack of wood beside it. Beyond that, and a large closet, it was empty, but what was there was… enough. Taking slow steps forward I unbuttoned my best and tossed it onto one of the nearby chairs, my hand reaching out to press against the mattress of the bed.
…
"Why in the name that is good and proper would someone need three pillows on a single person bed?"
---
To say I slept well that night would be like saying a goat was a sheep. In that some concepts are similar, but little else. There was sleep, it was far from good. I was awoken later than I was used to by a knock on the door, and before I could even start to respond to it the door swung open, revealing a rather pretty young woman in a maid's outfit staring down at me.
Not for the reasons one might expect however, no, she wasn't looking down on me because I wasn't fitting in very well, or even that I was the superior breed of the Isle. It's because I was sleeping on the floor. The blankets from the bed were laid out beneath me, one (and the only one I needed) of pillows situated behind my head as I used the sheets as an actual blanket on top of myself.
"Why are you… sleeping on the floor sir?" the maid asked.
I slowly raised a hand to rub at my eyes, then gestured to the now ransacked bed. "If ah were to lay down in that thin', ya'd never see me again. Ah'd be swallowed up like Jonah i' the whale."
The maid's lips drew into a thin line, but she didn't comment on the state I had left the room in. Instead, she stepped away from the door. "We have prepared a bath and fresh clothing for you sir."
"Well thank ya kindly." I grumbled as I sat up, one hand moving to run down my face before I stumbled after her. The maid's eyes briefly looked me up and down, for what reason I couldn't say given that I was still wearing my clothes, then turned on the spot and led me away. It was a short walk to the bathroom, a surprisingly private space not far away from my bedroom. I was, admittedly, expecting something more… public, given that I was in a dorm space. But it was indeed private, with a bath full of hot water and an entire set of… not sure what I was supposed to call them exactly, cleaning products I supposed.
In any case. I took my time to relax… I hadn't had a hot bath in quite some time.
---
The bed was too soft, the soaps were too flowery, and the clothing they prepared for me was…
I patted down the light blue patterned tunic I was wearing. I would call myself a fop if I didn't feel like I was doing fops everywhere a great disservice in my choice of dress. A light blue tunic, a pair of black trousers, and a pair of rather tight shoes I had trouble getting on. It did however seem to be made with something approaching practicality in mind, in that the trousers were cut as to allow riding an animal easier, and the tunic was padded with cloth on the inside far more than one would normally see. I also took the time to shave, because if I was to look like a fop I might as well go all the way. That, and I hadn't had an excuse to do so in quite some time.
I walked into the grand hall, idly rubbing at my smooth chin, not quite used to the feeling of bare flesh there. Morrigan was already present, situated at the same seat she was the night prior. What had changed was her choice in apparel. Gone was the dress she wore so well yesterday, today instead she was dressed in a tunic quite similar to my own. So similar, in fact, that were it not for the fact that her fiery red hair was on clear display I may have not recognized her, given how it bulked up her figure while hiding her more feminine features.
I knew precious little about wyverns, but I would have imagined that when it comes to riding the beasts, that ideas of 'fashion' go out the door rather quickly. Not when the hulking animals could breathe fire and can give you a skull-knocking that would make a bull tuck its tail in shame.
"You shaved." Morrigan said, idly bouncing her foot off the ground.
It wasn't a question, but I deigned to answer anyway. "Aye, wouldn't do me well to let Beithir burn my beard off. Where are the rest of the students?"
The grand hall, barring myself and her, was empty. There wasn't any food left out, or anything in the way of servants either. I did not think I had seen any students the night before either, but at the time I hadn't thought much of it.
Morrigan lowered the cup and gestured for me to sit. "Out of season, all of my students are back home with their parents. We keep the training towards the colder months of the year, the heat does poorly for them in their armor, not to mention the wyverns in their barding."
I nodded and took the offered seat, leaning back against the headrest and idly kicking my leg against the floor. "And yerself?"
"I live here, of course, the school is also my home." Morrigan gestured at her 'dining room.' Gaudy or not, she had better china than me.
I smiled, slightly. "Aye, it's nice of what ah've seen of it, perhaps a bit big for my tastes."
"I would imagine, why my servants have told me the most awful rumor, that you slept on the floor. Nothing true about that I hope." Morrigan asked, looking rather desperate for me to refute that.
I shook my head. "Aye, ah did. The room was… pleasant ah suppose, but the bed was far from nice."
Morrigan arched a brow, one hand lightly tapping on the table even as one of the servants approached out of the corner of my vision with a loaded tray. "Those beds are some of the finest to be had."
"Aye, and if they are the finest then ah'm terrified to see what Londoners consider the worst." I replied as the servant poured Morrigan a cup of coffee; steaming as a drunkard after divorce, and black as the earl of hell's waistcoat.
Morrigan's eyes narrowed. "Jock."
I simply smiled. "Mick."
"Eggs sirs?" the butler offered, making us both turn our heads to the offered breakfast.
"Of course." Morrigan replied.
Breakfast was with little conversation.
---
Morrigan pushed open the doors to the aviary, and I am not ashamed to admit I gawked. The structure was even larger up close, and I stared in amazement at the fact that an entire forest had been built on the property. Hundreds, if not thousands of trees filled the interior, ranging from proud oaks to mighty pines that nearly scratched the ceiling. I walked forward dumbly after Morrigan as she entered, the doors shutting behind us as we walked.
The first thing that hit me was the sound of birds, dozens of them chirping away inside the aviary. The second thing was a distant waterfall, and my head turned to see a massive font of water coming down on the far end of the aviary from a tall cliff face. Rocks lined that entire side of the glass, allowing a rather dominant view of the area below to anyone who managed to get up there. Closer to myself was a series of small buildings and various bits of equipme-
My musings were interrupted by a roar, and a familiar one at that. My head jerked from the buildings towards the treeline as a silver and white wyvern launched itself out of it. It shot upwards like a firework, the light of the sun glistening off of its scales as it screamed through the air. It turned in its climb to be parallel to myself and Morrigan, and I felt my jaw drop as I stared at it, my expression turning into a grin a moment later.
Beithir… was flying.
The wyvern flapped its wings, lurching upward more into the air. As I watched, it pulled its wings back, arching itself into a curve as its legs jutted outwards. With the sound of a muffled boulder hitting stone it came to a perched stop along the cliffside like a bird, and lowered its head back to lightly nip at the blisters along its wings.
"Oi! Don't pick at it ya dumb beast!"
Beithir paused in its nibbling, turning its head all the way back like a snake to look at me. Its knees then bent, and I felt a brief sense of… dread as it shifted its position so that it was facing me across the aviary.
Then it launched itself, with a mighty flap of its wings it was off once more like a bullet.
Barreling straight towards me, mouth glowing.
---
I would happily admit to any that asked in the future that I grinned like a damned fool the entire flight from London to Dover. If asked why I didn't bother containing my excitement or acting like the adult I presented myself as it would come down to one simple answer. How could I damn well not? I was a farmer -and a damned good one at that- but coos have a distinct ability to stay on the ground. This… was simply magical.
"You are going to stain my windows if you continue to drool on them." Morrigan said, amusement clear as the glass she spoke of in her voice.
"An' all wash 'em for ya." I replied, not taking my eyes away from the glass.
The sun had well and truly set by the time we had approached Dover, but that didn't stop me from seeing the landscape. The famed white cliffs were well illuminated by the town surrounding it, and lanterns streaked through the night sky as wyverns and carriages just like ours came and went across the channel. A gigantic domed structure sat near the castle on the cliffs, and the light from its interior made the glass glint like a Christmas bauble in a store window, and even from my distance away I could see stands and a gigantic pit square in the middle of it. Through the glass I could also make out a wyvern, white in color, making rapid circles in the air over the stands, it spun and twisted in the air, cartwheeling and putting on a death-defying performance.
Further down the road from it, nearer to one of the cliffs overlooking the town that sat on the beach, was a large oval-shaped building, much the same as the one I left in London. There I could see carriages and heavier ships, dozens of them, either taking off, staying, or coming into England itself. One wyvern, in particular, caught my eye, coming in for a landing, a gargantuan black beast, so black it would be invisible in the night except for the lights tacked along its side. Twin flags hung from the rear of the container it was hauling behind it, the French flag trailing behind in its wake.
"How busy is this town?" I asked a stupid question.
"Dover is the busiest wyvern-port in England. Shipping, tourism, there's hardly a dull moment. Though we aren't going into Dover itself." Morrigan responded.
I looked back to see the woman looking out the opposite window. "We aren't?"
Morrigan shook her head, then pointed out the direction she was looking. "The school is situated about three miles outside of town, best for giving the wyverns space to fly without causing any… accidents."
I slid across the cushioned bench and looked out the opposite pane of glass. There, just faintly in the distance, I could make out a rather large brick building that stood apart from everything else around it. No houses, no other parts of the town were near it, but the building itself was an entire complex, and as we slowly curved to get closer I could make out more of it. The main building was four stories or so tall with a wide flat roof, it didn't even have a center. Instead, a large courtyard made up the middle of the building, something I got a good look at as the carriage made a wide circle to come to a rolling stop in front of the building itself.
To the right of the main building was another large structure, and it was the second building I had ever seen in an oval shape. Except this one was much shorter than the last; it could not possibly be taller than my barn, and that was even if I included the stands that gave it most of its height. The entire center was an open dirt track, through which stood tall posts with large rings sitting atop them. What it was used for was beyond my understanding, but it was easily three to four times longer than the main building itself. Beyond that was the largest of all of the structures, of which there were many more littered throughout the rolling, grassy land the school was situated in.
"What on God's green earth is that?" A gargantuan dome made of metal and glass, easily the size of the track if not bigger, the base of the structure was stone, probably a good dozen feet high before glass piled up from it to form a large half-circle that completely enclosed the building. Through the grass, I could make out trees and rock formations, including a large cliff that jutted proudly over a winding river.
"The aviary," Morrigan responded, and a click of the door revealed that not only had we landed during my gazing, but she had moved to exit the carriage as well. "I can give you the tour once your wyvern arrives, for now, you must be famished."
---
"Your wyvern is on course to arrive tomorrow, just as I promised," Morrigan said simply, popping a bit of the steak into her mouth before lightly dapping at her lips with a napkin. "We shall be starting your training immediately once it has become situated in the aviary. I would suggest rest immediately after dinner."
I nodded as I cut into my meal, far fancier than I was used to… but not quite fancy enough that I felt awkward eating it. I felt more awkward about the building I was currently situated in. The office in London was fancy. Crawford's apartment was nice. This was simply too much. Tall painted walls rose to an arched ceiling, and the arch itself was glinting with some form of gold. The lights inside the building causing it to shine in different ways for every angle I turned my head. The walls were lined with tall windows, so clean and large that when I looked at the courtyard I almost felt like the room was open to the outdoors.
Upon entering the 'grand hall' -as she had called it, though I could not argue against the name- I was quickly sat at a table, whereupon a rather extensive amount of servants had seemingly appeared out of a damned fae's circle to bring in food. The table was longer than my house, and more than likely worth a fair bit more as well. It was only one of many spread across the gigantic hall, the room taking up the entire side of the building I had entered from. It made me nervous, though I tried my best not to show it as I ate. "Thank you fer the dinner. And yer hospitality."
"Welcome, of course," Morrigan replied. "I do hope it is up to your standards."
I arched a brow but carefully said nothing as I finished off the last mouthful. The moment my utensils crossed over the ceramic plates they were both lifted away from the table by a servant, who moved with such smooth, fast grace that I had to wonder if he had somehow known when I would put down my plate before I did. No sooner than I thought that, another servant stepped and gestured… something. I stared at him, attempting to decipher the gesture as he repeated it.
"He's politely offering to show you to your room," Morrigan smirked in my direction, and if I had any doubt she was taking the piss out of me before, she dispelled it with as little as a short breath that was just barely not a giggle.
"Ah… thanks." I stood up and gave Morrigan one final nod with about as much thankfulness as I could muster without words. Her smile became less teasing; kinder, I hoped, though I had not seen enough of her smile to know what that would look like. I stepped out of the grand hall and into one of the two hallways that lead out of it. In this case, it was the western hallway, which quickly cornered and turned north to reveal one straight and relatively thin (in comparison) hallway that went all the way down to the next corner of the building. The relative narrowness of the space afforded extra room along the sides for what I thought to be dorm rooms, as there were a good dozen or so doors along each side. How they managed to fill up this much space I hadn't the slightest idea, but I did not ask the servant. The only sound in the corridor was our shoes clicking and clomping against the decorated stone floor.
As we walked I took in the hallway itself. It was far less tall than the grand hall, though I would have imagined that was in part because the grand hall reached up to the very top of the building itself. Here it was a more manageable height, though it was in all honesty no less grand than the hall itself. Paintings lined the walls between each door, depicting knights like those my father used to tell me about in stories, charging on horseback into raging beasts… wyverns generally. Other's depicted famous historical scenes, most of which I only vaguely recalled from half-remembered history lessons, like that of William the Bastard leading his Norman-Drakes at the battle of Hastings.
In other places, there were statues placed in alcoves, some busts of past students or school members, even full-sized statues of figures of… some renown I was sure. The servant eventually came to a stop at the far end of the hall, to his right was a large wooden door, the only thing distinguishing it from the rest was that it is sat nearest to the corner of the hallway, giving it easy access to a carved nook situated beneath the tall windows that allowed for a view outside.
Without a word, the servant bowed his head and opened the door, and I took the invitation to step inside. It was...
Horrific.
The room was half the size of my entire home, and was disgustingly ornate. A tall and wide bed sat against the far right corner, covered in plush sheets and blankets as it sat a good four feet above the floor itself. A window was just to its left, pouring moonlight into the room and revealing that the place had its own dresser, mirror, two chairs and a rug that more than likely cost more than any of the coo I had sold to get here.
I stared at it, not saying a word as the door was closed behind me. A fireplace sat in the far left corner, sealed with an empty rack of wood beside it. Beyond that, and a large closet, it was empty, but what was there was… enough. Taking slow steps forward I unbuttoned my best and tossed it onto one of the nearby chairs, my hand reaching out to press against the mattress of the bed.
…
"Why in the name that is good and proper would someone need three pillows on a single person bed?"
---
To say I slept well that night would be like saying a goat was a sheep. In that some concepts are similar, but little else. There was sleep, it was far from good. I was awoken later than I was used to by a knock on the door, and before I could even start to respond to it the door swung open, revealing a rather pretty young woman in a maid's outfit staring down at me.
Not for the reasons one might expect however, no, she wasn't looking down on me because I wasn't fitting in very well, or even that I was the superior breed of the Isle. It's because I was sleeping on the floor. The blankets from the bed were laid out beneath me, one (and the only one I needed) of pillows situated behind my head as I used the sheets as an actual blanket on top of myself.
"Why are you… sleeping on the floor sir?" the maid asked.
I slowly raised a hand to rub at my eyes, then gestured to the now ransacked bed. "If ah were to lay down in that thin', ya'd never see me again. Ah'd be swallowed up like Jonah i' the whale."
The maid's lips drew into a thin line, but she didn't comment on the state I had left the room in. Instead, she stepped away from the door. "We have prepared a bath and fresh clothing for you sir."
"Well thank ya kindly." I grumbled as I sat up, one hand moving to run down my face before I stumbled after her. The maid's eyes briefly looked me up and down, for what reason I couldn't say given that I was still wearing my clothes, then turned on the spot and led me away. It was a short walk to the bathroom, a surprisingly private space not far away from my bedroom. I was, admittedly, expecting something more… public, given that I was in a dorm space. But it was indeed private, with a bath full of hot water and an entire set of… not sure what I was supposed to call them exactly, cleaning products I supposed.
In any case. I took my time to relax… I hadn't had a hot bath in quite some time.
---
The bed was too soft, the soaps were too flowery, and the clothing they prepared for me was…
I patted down the light blue patterned tunic I was wearing. I would call myself a fop if I didn't feel like I was doing fops everywhere a great disservice in my choice of dress. A light blue tunic, a pair of black trousers, and a pair of rather tight shoes I had trouble getting on. It did however seem to be made with something approaching practicality in mind, in that the trousers were cut as to allow riding an animal easier, and the tunic was padded with cloth on the inside far more than one would normally see. I also took the time to shave, because if I was to look like a fop I might as well go all the way. That, and I hadn't had an excuse to do so in quite some time.
I walked into the grand hall, idly rubbing at my smooth chin, not quite used to the feeling of bare flesh there. Morrigan was already present, situated at the same seat she was the night prior. What had changed was her choice in apparel. Gone was the dress she wore so well yesterday, today instead she was dressed in a tunic quite similar to my own. So similar, in fact, that were it not for the fact that her fiery red hair was on clear display I may have not recognized her, given how it bulked up her figure while hiding her more feminine features.
I knew precious little about wyverns, but I would have imagined that when it comes to riding the beasts, that ideas of 'fashion' go out the door rather quickly. Not when the hulking animals could breathe fire and can give you a skull-knocking that would make a bull tuck its tail in shame.
"You shaved." Morrigan said, idly bouncing her foot off the ground.
It wasn't a question, but I deigned to answer anyway. "Aye, wouldn't do me well to let Beithir burn my beard off. Where are the rest of the students?"
The grand hall, barring myself and her, was empty. There wasn't any food left out, or anything in the way of servants either. I did not think I had seen any students the night before either, but at the time I hadn't thought much of it.
Morrigan lowered the cup and gestured for me to sit. "Out of season, all of my students are back home with their parents. We keep the training towards the colder months of the year, the heat does poorly for them in their armor, not to mention the wyverns in their barding."
I nodded and took the offered seat, leaning back against the headrest and idly kicking my leg against the floor. "And yerself?"
"I live here, of course, the school is also my home." Morrigan gestured at her 'dining room.' Gaudy or not, she had better china than me.
I smiled, slightly. "Aye, it's nice of what ah've seen of it, perhaps a bit big for my tastes."
"I would imagine, why my servants have told me the most awful rumor, that you slept on the floor. Nothing true about that I hope." Morrigan asked, looking rather desperate for me to refute that.
I shook my head. "Aye, ah did. The room was… pleasant ah suppose, but the bed was far from nice."
Morrigan arched a brow, one hand lightly tapping on the table even as one of the servants approached out of the corner of my vision with a loaded tray. "Those beds are some of the finest to be had."
"Aye, and if they are the finest then ah'm terrified to see what Londoners consider the worst." I replied as the servant poured Morrigan a cup of coffee; steaming as a drunkard after divorce, and black as the earl of hell's waistcoat.
Morrigan's eyes narrowed. "Jock."
I simply smiled. "Mick."
"Eggs sirs?" the butler offered, making us both turn our heads to the offered breakfast.
"Of course." Morrigan replied.
Breakfast was with little conversation.
---
Morrigan pushed open the doors to the aviary, and I am not ashamed to admit I gawked. The structure was even larger up close, and I stared in amazement at the fact that an entire forest had been built on the property. Hundreds, if not thousands of trees filled the interior, ranging from proud oaks to mighty pines that nearly scratched the ceiling. I walked forward dumbly after Morrigan as she entered, the doors shutting behind us as we walked.
The first thing that hit me was the sound of birds, dozens of them chirping away inside the aviary. The second thing was a distant waterfall, and my head turned to see a massive font of water coming down on the far end of the aviary from a tall cliff face. Rocks lined that entire side of the glass, allowing a rather dominant view of the area below to anyone who managed to get up there. Closer to myself was a series of small buildings and various bits of equipme-
My musings were interrupted by a roar, and a familiar one at that. My head jerked from the buildings towards the treeline as a silver and white wyvern launched itself out of it. It shot upwards like a firework, the light of the sun glistening off of its scales as it screamed through the air. It turned in its climb to be parallel to myself and Morrigan, and I felt my jaw drop as I stared at it, my expression turning into a grin a moment later.
Beithir… was flying.
The wyvern flapped its wings, lurching upward more into the air. As I watched, it pulled its wings back, arching itself into a curve as its legs jutted outwards. With the sound of a muffled boulder hitting stone it came to a perched stop along the cliffside like a bird, and lowered its head back to lightly nip at the blisters along its wings.
"Oi! Don't pick at it ya dumb beast!"
Beithir paused in its nibbling, turning its head all the way back like a snake to look at me. Its knees then bent, and I felt a brief sense of… dread as it shifted its position so that it was facing me across the aviary.
Then it launched itself, with a mighty flap of its wings it was off once more like a bullet.
Barreling straight towards me, mouth glowing.
Chapter 12
Erien
God's Weakest Soldier
- Location
- Georgia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Thanks to @Armoury for the beta!
---
My pastor once mentioned to me that when one saw death approaching, that one was closer to God than at any point in your life. One's life was to fly before their eyes, their sins and virtues put before them in one brief beautiful moment before they were taken by the angels to the place above.
However, as I watched Beithir dive towards me like the Devil bringing all the brimstone of hell cookin' in its mouth. I saw nothing but teeth and flame. The scream that tore from my lips was quite manly, and I leapt back, grabbing Morrigan in the process and threw the both of us onto the ground. A loud whump of the wyvern landing behind me was in contrast to the sound of our bodies bouncing along the dirt. I had twisted myself in the air so that Morrigan would be beneath me, at the very least if the damnable beast burned me alive she wouldn't take much, if any, of it. I stopped there, positioned above her as I waited for the flame, pain, and quick death with my eyes closed.
It never came. I waited a good twenty seconds, the heavy breathing of the beast behind me the only sound until Morrigan let out a cough. Opening my eyes slowly I found her face a few inches from my own with something just between our ches-
Her fist hit me in the nose.
I lurched back, cradling my nose as Morrigan sat back up. Truth be told it didn't particularly hurt, little more than the pain I'd get running into a door. But the sheer suddenness of it threw me for a loop. "Aye, well remind me not to save ya the next time a Wyvern comes around to cook ya and yer nippers."
"I do not," Morrigan said as she stood up and brushed the dirt off of the back of her outfit.
"Have any 'nippers' thank you. Try to use what small little thing up in there constitutes for a brain if you would be so kind, if she wanted you dead she would have killed you long before you made it to Glasgow."
…
Alright, so she did admittedly have a point, and the fact that I was at the time not being shaken around in its jaws or being burned alive was as good a sign as any that Beithir didn't actually wish me any harm. But that didn't mean she's correct either. "If a bull runs towards ya fer a hug, ya don't stand there and just let it make friendly intercourse with yer ribs. Ya get out of the way, the same thing applies for an eight-hundred-pound lizard that can breathe fire."
"I hardly think the situations are comparable." Morrigan replied bluntly.
"Aye, the bull can't destroy a barn by crashing into it from the sky, or breath fire," I said, standing up myself and looking back at the beast as I did so. "Ah'd take the bull any day."
Beithir sat on its legs staring down at me, head tilted to the side as I stared up at it. Licks of flame sputtered at the sides of its mouth as it breathed, a good sign that the wound on its chest was finally, truly on the mend. Reaching into my pocket I pulled out the small jar of ointment, then pointed down at the ground. "Well lay down ya dumb beast, can't expect me to climb ya like a tree now can ye?"
Beithir lets out a snort that I would swear is sarcastic, before it laid its long neck down onto the grass, its tongue flicking out to taste the air briefly even as the small jets of flame set the tallest stalks alight.
Morrigan stepped forward as I got to work at the joints of its wings, her shoe patting down the burning grass to put it out. Not without commentary, of course. "I see it has truly warmed to you quickly. Most of my students couldn't get one so obedient in twice the time."
I turned back to look at her from where I had transitioned from rubbing the ointment between its wings to applying it below the chest plate, one hand was rubbing at the now healed wound, while the other was lightly scratching the beast beneath the chin to keep it calm. "Aye? What makes ya say that."
Morrigan gave me a wry smile but didn't follow up, instead changing the subject. "Are you ready to try riding it?"
I stop rubbing Beithir and fully turn to look at the woman, ignoring the feeling of the Wyvern pressing its snout against my back. "Should there be lessons or learnin' how to proper take care of it first?"
Morrigan arched a brow. "If you don't enjoy the act of riding it there won't be much point in the lessons. Most of my students had experience riding as children, you don't. Therefore you need to see if you can actually enjoy it before I will bother training you." She then pointed off towards one of the buildings near the entrance. "I had one of the staff put your equipment in there, get dressed quickly."
I could see the point in that, though it did still seem like a rather rapid leap into danger. But then again, I rather heavily doubted there were any particularly safe aspects of wyvern riding. Still, it was rather sudden. With one last look at Beithir I nodded at Morrigan and stepped past her into the building she pointed out. It was, in all honesty, little more than a stone shack. A simple building with one door and one window pressed against the walls that make up the aviary. Inside there was little more than a series of stalls with curtains, all closed. At first glance, I assumed they were for changing, and the fact that one at the far end was open with my 'equipment' hanging on racks supported that theory. Walking over I stepped inside, and the stall was thankfully large enough for me to both step in and move around.
The equipment, on the other hand, was… well, to be honest, I wasn't sure what I was expecting. There wasn't any need to remove any of the clothing I was wearing, as all of the equipment on offer was meant to go over what I was already wearing. A breastplate sat on a bench, silvery metal glinting in the faint light afforded by the sun in this narrow space. Right beside it was some form of helmet, kind of like what I saw in the pictures as a child, though while those had a full-frontal covering of metal, this one was some form of mesh. I picked it up experimentally, turning it this way and that in my hands before I found the mechanism to open it. The entire front opened on a hinge so that you could place it down over your head and then close it shut over you.
The other pieces of equipment were some form of metal… boots that look like they go over my shoes, and a pair of metal gloves that look like they would go up to my elbows. I lifted them up, looking them over before placing them aside. Grabbing the breastplate I placed it over myself, it slid down easily, and I tightened the straps at my side, little more than strings, before stepping into the metal boots. They… took a bit more effort, namely, I got them about halfway on before I had to resort to kicking the wall to force the rest of my foot in. Fortunately once in they were snug but workable. The gloves slid on easily over the clothes I was already wearing, just like the rest, and I tucked the helmet underneath my arm and walked outside, clanking like a damn blacksmith's shop all the while.
Two things hit me as I stepped back outside, the sun for starters, the contrast between the dark interior of the shack and the bright focused light of the aviary was striking. The second was a saddle, it hit me in the face specifically, and I scrambled to catch it before it hit the ground.
"Get it on your wyvern." Morrigan said, and I lowered the caught saddle to find her staring at me. Beithir for its part was still laying down on the ground, looking at me curiously. I stared at Beithir a moment, then at the saddle again. The actual seat was near identical to a horse saddle, with the benefit of a piece of leather sticking up a good two feet in the back that I would imagine was made to keep the rider from falling off when the beast decided to go vertical. A pair of stirrups draped around the front and given by the positioning of the straps…
"The straps are made to loop around its wing joints?" I asked.
"They are, you can pull on the reins to give the wyvern an idea of where you want to go. On a breed such as this, the neck is far too narrow to hold a saddle, though larger breeds do allow it." Morrigan replies.
I turned the awkward thing over in my hand. To my relief, the actual straps were padded on the inside instead of bare leather, which meant that it wouldn't rub too bad on the beast's still-raw joints. I still didn't want to keep this on it very long mind, but for a short amount of time it would be fine. Shrugging, I walked past Morrigan and approached the beast. As I did so it flapped its wings once, then stuck them out to the side. "Eager to saddle are ya?"
"Your wyvern trusts you." Morrigan said, sounding rather amused.
"Still ain't sure why, not treated it any different than my coos." I said, hosting the saddle up and onto its back. Kneeling down to figure out the straps once it was on.
"Taking her away from her former owner did wonders, I would imagine. Do you require help?" Morrigan asks.
I shook my head as I tightened the strap, stepping over the beast's back to do the other side. "Think I've got it figured out. How am I meant to mount it exactly?"
"A gentleman would at least have dinner first." Morrigan quips, now sounding amused for the first time this morning.
I raised my head and looked towards Morrigan, snapping the strap into place as I did so. Beithir, seeing that I was no longer focusing on it, turned its head as well to stare at Morrigan.
"Just hop onto it, Jock," Morrigan explained. "If it bucks you then try again."
I nodded, placed the helmet over my head, then looked over at the wyvern. I grabbed the knob at the front of the saddle, gripping it tightly before I swung myself up and onto it. Beithir yelped as my arse hit the saddle. It lurched up onto its legs, then bucked backwards. I held onto the knob for dear life, my back hitting the back of the saddle as the beast attempted to throw me off. "Calm yerse-"
My words were cut-off as with a mighty flap of its wings Beithir fully lurched back and tossed me off onto the ground. I grunted, but the breastplate actually did its job to absorb most of the impact. I rolled a second after I landed, the same instincts that trained me not to get stepped on by an angry coo kicking in. I then got up into a crouch, only to hear Morrigan laughing.
"It may take several attempts. But a good first effort."
I glared at her, then idly reached up to readjust the helmet I was wearing. Beithir, for its part, was staring at me, slightly crouched with its wings flared at its side. Its eyes were narrow slits, and its tail was lightly tapping on the ground behind it.
"Aye, playtime is it?" I asked the beast, lightly tapping my fist into my palm. "Like I told ya on the train ya damned beast, yer dealin' with a Scot!" with that I charged forward, Beithir leaned back, getting its head out of the way as I sprinted past it. A brief heat of flame covered me as I ran by, and I didn't need to look back to tell that part of the grass was aflame. I didn't, in fact, look back at all as I grasped the side of the saddle and leaped up and onto the beast. This time I took no chances, slamming my legs tight around its side as I grabbed onto the reins and tugged.
Beithir roared, flame spitting out of its mouth as it bucked underneath me. I didn't give, my feet sliding into the stirrups as I pulled the reins harder. Beithir bucked and spun in place, trying to get me off of it. Then, with a rush of air, it flapped its wings particularly harshly, and I felt an awful lurch as I realized I was leaving the ground. A shout of fright escaped my lips as the ground suddenly moved away, and I held on for dear life as with another mighty flap of its wings it started rocketing upwards towards the glass ceiling of the aviary.
Beithir let out another roar as we climbed, and I tugged the reins to the right. As I did, the left wing raised and the right one lowered, and the rapid climb turned into a sharp curve that hugged the western wall of the aviary itself. "Calm yerself, Beithir!" I shouted over the roaring beast. "Ah ain't once hurt ya!"
Beithir's wings tense, and I nearly lost my grip on the reins as it twists in the air, blood rushing to my head as I found myself suddenly and violently upside down. The only thing keeping me from falling being that my knees were digging into its sides. It righted itself a moment later, turning into a steep dive over the trees. "CALM YERSELF!"
I yanked back on the reins, pulling it back into a climb before a tug to right made it fly past the waterfall. "Now stop ya dumb beast!" I shouted, attempting to pull back instead of up on the reins. Thankfully like a horse it did so, flapping its wings rapidly and coming to a hovering stop over the rocks. I let out a breath, then several more as I felt my heart threaten to pound so hard it would break my ribs. "Nice and calm now are ya?" I asked.
In response Beithir turned its serpent head back to look at me, tongue darting out of its mouth as its yellow-gold eyes focused on me.
"Arthur!" Morrigan called out, and both myself and the wyvern turned to look at her. She is making a snapping motion with her hands, both fists rising and falling at the same time as she mimics holding a rein.
… Alright.
Looking back at Beithir I nodded, then snapped my hands, the reins lightly slapping the wings. The third scream of the day tore from my lips a moment later as Beithir dips its head and took off like a firework, its powerful wings flapping rapidly at its side before it tucked them to the side, turning itself into an arrow as it screamed through the air. I tugged on the reins to curve it to the right around the glass wall, my back slamming into the seat from the sheer speed of its movement.
I could feel the wind on my face as if the helmet wasn't even slowing it down. With another snap of the reins, the beast repeated the motion, going even faster as I pulled it up into a climb. "AYE, YER ENJOYIN' FLIGHT AREN'T YA BEITHIR!" I shouted.
I then tugged the reins as far right as I could, making the beast start to roll into a dive towards the ground. A strangled sound tore from my throat as we gained speed, something part mortal terror, and the rest laughter! I pulled up just as we were about to hit the trees to bring it into a glide over them. The sound of breaking branches filled my ears, as did what almost sounded like a happy trill coming from the wyvern's throat.
This is magical.
This is flight.
This is-
---
With another lurch I emptied the contents of the morning's breakfast into the bucket, gripping the pail for dear life in an effort not to fall to the ground from lack of balance. My vision swam as the slime and bile filled it, and I felt a sense of palpable relief as the last of my breakfast finally left me. Wiping my mouth with the metal gauntlet I looked up to see Morrigan a fair distance away, standing next to Beithir.
Beithir for its part was watching me as curiously as it always did, while Morrigan was looking distinctly amused.
"So, did you enjoy wyvern riding?" She asked.
"This is the worst I've ever felt in my entire life," I groaned, forcing myself onto unsteady feet. My vision swam briefly. "I'm goin' again."
---
My pastor once mentioned to me that when one saw death approaching, that one was closer to God than at any point in your life. One's life was to fly before their eyes, their sins and virtues put before them in one brief beautiful moment before they were taken by the angels to the place above.
However, as I watched Beithir dive towards me like the Devil bringing all the brimstone of hell cookin' in its mouth. I saw nothing but teeth and flame. The scream that tore from my lips was quite manly, and I leapt back, grabbing Morrigan in the process and threw the both of us onto the ground. A loud whump of the wyvern landing behind me was in contrast to the sound of our bodies bouncing along the dirt. I had twisted myself in the air so that Morrigan would be beneath me, at the very least if the damnable beast burned me alive she wouldn't take much, if any, of it. I stopped there, positioned above her as I waited for the flame, pain, and quick death with my eyes closed.
It never came. I waited a good twenty seconds, the heavy breathing of the beast behind me the only sound until Morrigan let out a cough. Opening my eyes slowly I found her face a few inches from my own with something just between our ches-
Her fist hit me in the nose.
I lurched back, cradling my nose as Morrigan sat back up. Truth be told it didn't particularly hurt, little more than the pain I'd get running into a door. But the sheer suddenness of it threw me for a loop. "Aye, well remind me not to save ya the next time a Wyvern comes around to cook ya and yer nippers."
"I do not," Morrigan said as she stood up and brushed the dirt off of the back of her outfit.
"Have any 'nippers' thank you. Try to use what small little thing up in there constitutes for a brain if you would be so kind, if she wanted you dead she would have killed you long before you made it to Glasgow."
…
Alright, so she did admittedly have a point, and the fact that I was at the time not being shaken around in its jaws or being burned alive was as good a sign as any that Beithir didn't actually wish me any harm. But that didn't mean she's correct either. "If a bull runs towards ya fer a hug, ya don't stand there and just let it make friendly intercourse with yer ribs. Ya get out of the way, the same thing applies for an eight-hundred-pound lizard that can breathe fire."
"I hardly think the situations are comparable." Morrigan replied bluntly.
"Aye, the bull can't destroy a barn by crashing into it from the sky, or breath fire," I said, standing up myself and looking back at the beast as I did so. "Ah'd take the bull any day."
Beithir sat on its legs staring down at me, head tilted to the side as I stared up at it. Licks of flame sputtered at the sides of its mouth as it breathed, a good sign that the wound on its chest was finally, truly on the mend. Reaching into my pocket I pulled out the small jar of ointment, then pointed down at the ground. "Well lay down ya dumb beast, can't expect me to climb ya like a tree now can ye?"
Beithir lets out a snort that I would swear is sarcastic, before it laid its long neck down onto the grass, its tongue flicking out to taste the air briefly even as the small jets of flame set the tallest stalks alight.
Morrigan stepped forward as I got to work at the joints of its wings, her shoe patting down the burning grass to put it out. Not without commentary, of course. "I see it has truly warmed to you quickly. Most of my students couldn't get one so obedient in twice the time."
I turned back to look at her from where I had transitioned from rubbing the ointment between its wings to applying it below the chest plate, one hand was rubbing at the now healed wound, while the other was lightly scratching the beast beneath the chin to keep it calm. "Aye? What makes ya say that."
Morrigan gave me a wry smile but didn't follow up, instead changing the subject. "Are you ready to try riding it?"
I stop rubbing Beithir and fully turn to look at the woman, ignoring the feeling of the Wyvern pressing its snout against my back. "Should there be lessons or learnin' how to proper take care of it first?"
Morrigan arched a brow. "If you don't enjoy the act of riding it there won't be much point in the lessons. Most of my students had experience riding as children, you don't. Therefore you need to see if you can actually enjoy it before I will bother training you." She then pointed off towards one of the buildings near the entrance. "I had one of the staff put your equipment in there, get dressed quickly."
I could see the point in that, though it did still seem like a rather rapid leap into danger. But then again, I rather heavily doubted there were any particularly safe aspects of wyvern riding. Still, it was rather sudden. With one last look at Beithir I nodded at Morrigan and stepped past her into the building she pointed out. It was, in all honesty, little more than a stone shack. A simple building with one door and one window pressed against the walls that make up the aviary. Inside there was little more than a series of stalls with curtains, all closed. At first glance, I assumed they were for changing, and the fact that one at the far end was open with my 'equipment' hanging on racks supported that theory. Walking over I stepped inside, and the stall was thankfully large enough for me to both step in and move around.
The equipment, on the other hand, was… well, to be honest, I wasn't sure what I was expecting. There wasn't any need to remove any of the clothing I was wearing, as all of the equipment on offer was meant to go over what I was already wearing. A breastplate sat on a bench, silvery metal glinting in the faint light afforded by the sun in this narrow space. Right beside it was some form of helmet, kind of like what I saw in the pictures as a child, though while those had a full-frontal covering of metal, this one was some form of mesh. I picked it up experimentally, turning it this way and that in my hands before I found the mechanism to open it. The entire front opened on a hinge so that you could place it down over your head and then close it shut over you.
The other pieces of equipment were some form of metal… boots that look like they go over my shoes, and a pair of metal gloves that look like they would go up to my elbows. I lifted them up, looking them over before placing them aside. Grabbing the breastplate I placed it over myself, it slid down easily, and I tightened the straps at my side, little more than strings, before stepping into the metal boots. They… took a bit more effort, namely, I got them about halfway on before I had to resort to kicking the wall to force the rest of my foot in. Fortunately once in they were snug but workable. The gloves slid on easily over the clothes I was already wearing, just like the rest, and I tucked the helmet underneath my arm and walked outside, clanking like a damn blacksmith's shop all the while.
Two things hit me as I stepped back outside, the sun for starters, the contrast between the dark interior of the shack and the bright focused light of the aviary was striking. The second was a saddle, it hit me in the face specifically, and I scrambled to catch it before it hit the ground.
"Get it on your wyvern." Morrigan said, and I lowered the caught saddle to find her staring at me. Beithir for its part was still laying down on the ground, looking at me curiously. I stared at Beithir a moment, then at the saddle again. The actual seat was near identical to a horse saddle, with the benefit of a piece of leather sticking up a good two feet in the back that I would imagine was made to keep the rider from falling off when the beast decided to go vertical. A pair of stirrups draped around the front and given by the positioning of the straps…
"The straps are made to loop around its wing joints?" I asked.
"They are, you can pull on the reins to give the wyvern an idea of where you want to go. On a breed such as this, the neck is far too narrow to hold a saddle, though larger breeds do allow it." Morrigan replies.
I turned the awkward thing over in my hand. To my relief, the actual straps were padded on the inside instead of bare leather, which meant that it wouldn't rub too bad on the beast's still-raw joints. I still didn't want to keep this on it very long mind, but for a short amount of time it would be fine. Shrugging, I walked past Morrigan and approached the beast. As I did so it flapped its wings once, then stuck them out to the side. "Eager to saddle are ya?"
"Your wyvern trusts you." Morrigan said, sounding rather amused.
"Still ain't sure why, not treated it any different than my coos." I said, hosting the saddle up and onto its back. Kneeling down to figure out the straps once it was on.
"Taking her away from her former owner did wonders, I would imagine. Do you require help?" Morrigan asks.
I shook my head as I tightened the strap, stepping over the beast's back to do the other side. "Think I've got it figured out. How am I meant to mount it exactly?"
"A gentleman would at least have dinner first." Morrigan quips, now sounding amused for the first time this morning.
I raised my head and looked towards Morrigan, snapping the strap into place as I did so. Beithir, seeing that I was no longer focusing on it, turned its head as well to stare at Morrigan.
"Just hop onto it, Jock," Morrigan explained. "If it bucks you then try again."
I nodded, placed the helmet over my head, then looked over at the wyvern. I grabbed the knob at the front of the saddle, gripping it tightly before I swung myself up and onto it. Beithir yelped as my arse hit the saddle. It lurched up onto its legs, then bucked backwards. I held onto the knob for dear life, my back hitting the back of the saddle as the beast attempted to throw me off. "Calm yerse-"
My words were cut-off as with a mighty flap of its wings Beithir fully lurched back and tossed me off onto the ground. I grunted, but the breastplate actually did its job to absorb most of the impact. I rolled a second after I landed, the same instincts that trained me not to get stepped on by an angry coo kicking in. I then got up into a crouch, only to hear Morrigan laughing.
"It may take several attempts. But a good first effort."
I glared at her, then idly reached up to readjust the helmet I was wearing. Beithir, for its part, was staring at me, slightly crouched with its wings flared at its side. Its eyes were narrow slits, and its tail was lightly tapping on the ground behind it.
"Aye, playtime is it?" I asked the beast, lightly tapping my fist into my palm. "Like I told ya on the train ya damned beast, yer dealin' with a Scot!" with that I charged forward, Beithir leaned back, getting its head out of the way as I sprinted past it. A brief heat of flame covered me as I ran by, and I didn't need to look back to tell that part of the grass was aflame. I didn't, in fact, look back at all as I grasped the side of the saddle and leaped up and onto the beast. This time I took no chances, slamming my legs tight around its side as I grabbed onto the reins and tugged.
Beithir roared, flame spitting out of its mouth as it bucked underneath me. I didn't give, my feet sliding into the stirrups as I pulled the reins harder. Beithir bucked and spun in place, trying to get me off of it. Then, with a rush of air, it flapped its wings particularly harshly, and I felt an awful lurch as I realized I was leaving the ground. A shout of fright escaped my lips as the ground suddenly moved away, and I held on for dear life as with another mighty flap of its wings it started rocketing upwards towards the glass ceiling of the aviary.
Beithir let out another roar as we climbed, and I tugged the reins to the right. As I did, the left wing raised and the right one lowered, and the rapid climb turned into a sharp curve that hugged the western wall of the aviary itself. "Calm yerself, Beithir!" I shouted over the roaring beast. "Ah ain't once hurt ya!"
Beithir's wings tense, and I nearly lost my grip on the reins as it twists in the air, blood rushing to my head as I found myself suddenly and violently upside down. The only thing keeping me from falling being that my knees were digging into its sides. It righted itself a moment later, turning into a steep dive over the trees. "CALM YERSELF!"
I yanked back on the reins, pulling it back into a climb before a tug to right made it fly past the waterfall. "Now stop ya dumb beast!" I shouted, attempting to pull back instead of up on the reins. Thankfully like a horse it did so, flapping its wings rapidly and coming to a hovering stop over the rocks. I let out a breath, then several more as I felt my heart threaten to pound so hard it would break my ribs. "Nice and calm now are ya?" I asked.
In response Beithir turned its serpent head back to look at me, tongue darting out of its mouth as its yellow-gold eyes focused on me.
"Arthur!" Morrigan called out, and both myself and the wyvern turned to look at her. She is making a snapping motion with her hands, both fists rising and falling at the same time as she mimics holding a rein.
… Alright.
Looking back at Beithir I nodded, then snapped my hands, the reins lightly slapping the wings. The third scream of the day tore from my lips a moment later as Beithir dips its head and took off like a firework, its powerful wings flapping rapidly at its side before it tucked them to the side, turning itself into an arrow as it screamed through the air. I tugged on the reins to curve it to the right around the glass wall, my back slamming into the seat from the sheer speed of its movement.
I could feel the wind on my face as if the helmet wasn't even slowing it down. With another snap of the reins, the beast repeated the motion, going even faster as I pulled it up into a climb. "AYE, YER ENJOYIN' FLIGHT AREN'T YA BEITHIR!" I shouted.
I then tugged the reins as far right as I could, making the beast start to roll into a dive towards the ground. A strangled sound tore from my throat as we gained speed, something part mortal terror, and the rest laughter! I pulled up just as we were about to hit the trees to bring it into a glide over them. The sound of breaking branches filled my ears, as did what almost sounded like a happy trill coming from the wyvern's throat.
This is magical.
This is flight.
This is-
---
With another lurch I emptied the contents of the morning's breakfast into the bucket, gripping the pail for dear life in an effort not to fall to the ground from lack of balance. My vision swam as the slime and bile filled it, and I felt a sense of palpable relief as the last of my breakfast finally left me. Wiping my mouth with the metal gauntlet I looked up to see Morrigan a fair distance away, standing next to Beithir.
Beithir for its part was watching me as curiously as it always did, while Morrigan was looking distinctly amused.
"So, did you enjoy wyvern riding?" She asked.
"This is the worst I've ever felt in my entire life," I groaned, forcing myself onto unsteady feet. My vision swam briefly. "I'm goin' again."
The Crimson King
It's possible to eat an orange with just teeth.
- Location
- America
Instead of his life flying before his eyes, it was just an oversized lizard.
TimEd
Meteor maker
And instead of putting the fear of God in him, it just made him want to go on that lizard ride again.
Chapter 13
Erien
God's Weakest Soldier
- Location
- Georgia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Thanks to @Armoury for the beta!
---
A week had passed since my first flight. A week filled with training, drills, lessons and study. Oh, sweet Saint Columba above the amount of study there was to do. Anatomy, flight theory, aerodin… airodyke? Air theory. Feeding practice, grooming practice, this, that, and the other thing as well, and honest as God's truth it was starting to be a fair bit overwhelming. In just one week, the stack of books next to my desk was starting to reach up to my hip, and each was weighty enough that I could probably grab one and beat Beithir to death with it. Admittedly she would probably maul me after the first hit, but it was the principle of the matter, not the actual ability.
The point of the matter, as I sat back in my chair and stared at the heavy tome in front of me, was that I was exhausted from studying. With a tired hand, I reached past the book to retrieve my pipe from its holder -a simple wooden thing- and with a sigh, I pushed myself back up from the desk and made my way over to the window. With a simple push, it swung open letting the salty air from the channel filter into the room and tickle my nose. I grimaced slightly but leaned out the window regardless. I wasn't quite used to the scent of saltwater, and it has yet to grow pleasant to my senses. It doesn't help that it managed to almost completely drown any scent of nature beyond that of the aviary, though that may just be how new I am to being near the ocean. Scotland, while never particularly far from the ocean at any place, usually had enough hills to keep the smell of the brine away.
That, and the general scents of the farm I supposed. Leaning out the window I lit the pipe, the taste of tobacco filling my mouth a moment later before I breathed it out. One nice point of living near the big cities is, at least, cheaper tobacco compared to home. I had given up the art of smoking entirely at home, not so much here. Of course, here I'm not allowed to smoke in my room or on the grounds, something put in place due to Morrigan's personal preferences. Hence why I was currently leaning out of my room over the grounds. I smiled around the pipe, idly glancing about the grounds. I didn't particularly have the funds to afford the tobacco, truth be told I didn't much have the funds for anything. But I don't have much future to worry about either, it was, as far as I figured, quite simple. I either succeeded in my goal to make the money back to pay off Wellbrook, or I became a homeless worker in London. I wouldn't be the first, I damn well wouldn't be the last, and I was determined to at least get some small enjoyment as I could while my meals were being provided for me along with room and board. Tapping the pipe against the window frame a moment I glanced back at the room. The mattress was laying on the floor, blankets set atop it. Morrigan insisted I sleep on it, but the silly mick never specified how.
The moon illuminated the room well enough, more than the faintly flickering candle sitting on the desk. Its orange light cast odd shadows onto the tan pages of the book, and I watched it dance briefly before moving my gaze toward the mannequin standing just beyond it. It was dressed in my armor and helmet, proudly displaying some dents and scratches from the times when Beithir got a rather amusing opinion about whether or not I should be allowed to ride her. The beast had taken to me well, but she had a stubborn streak to her like a horse that needed to be broken. Of course, I could just use a twitch on a horse if it was feeling particularly feisty, Beithur would most likely set it on fire and then myself, possibly not in that order. Beithir was fast but hard to control, very… temperamental, but she seemed to calm down well enough once I actually mounted her.
Walking forward I slid my hand over the desk, idly running my hand over the open book before closing it and dousing the candle with my fingers. The room fell into darkness, the only illumination being the moonlight coming through the window. But the darkness was something I was used to, it wasn't like my original home had a great number of candles either. Continuing my walk I grabbed my outfit from the mannequin, then made my way out the door.
If it wasn't to be a night of study, it would be of training. If I had to spend one more bleeding moment reading about the theoretical theories of theoretical practices by Mr Pendragon I would more than likely use the pile of pages for kindling. At the very least, the hallways were quite pretty to look at at night; the moonlight poured in through the giant windows, illuminating the tiled floor and the statues. It was beautiful, and it was a private pleasure I had come to enjoy in this place, if only because -with the lack of students- I was the only person around at this time of night. Barring Morrigan, but as far as I was aware she was situated far away on a higher floor. With the help in their rooms, there was no one to bother me as I took an evening stroll through the building. The shadows of the night stretched and morphed the statues as I walked by, somehow making them taller and grander in obscurity as I moved down the hall. I stared at their white faces as I passed, a few now recognized to me… but none I was particularly impressed with. All were former students, and all went on to do this or that, attained some titles or made riches.
I would be happy just getting the farm back.
Not to say the image did not dance in my mind as I stepped into the lobby and then outside; Arthur Adair, the greatest wyvern rider to ever grace the land! The thought brought a chuckle out of me as I walked. All boys had dreams like that when they were younger, now there was just far too much to do, but I would for the time being enjoy the situation I was put in. With a smile on my face, I made my way into the stables, and I had to admit that they were a fair bit better than the one I had the misfortune of seeing back in London.
It was, in effect, a long and wide tunnel. Easily a good three to four dozen feet across and four to five times as long. The floor was dirt with stone walls surrounding it, and spaced a good distance apart on either side was a row of cages built into the walls themselves. Unlike the stone floor of the stables in London, these were dirt, allowing the wyverns inside of them to rest comfortably. The entire structure was in barest essence a straight line with two large openings on either end that could be closed with an iron gate. The reason for this particular setup was only revealed to me the first time I had to fetch Beithir from here; so that a wyvern could step out, and assuming the gates were open, sprint down the track and lift off the moment they were outdoors.
A rather smart system, and rather more humane. I'd have rather kept my wyvern in the aviary if at all possible, but that was running on a schedule of wyverns being allowed in it at certain times, and then only alone. As two wyverns trapped in there together could get territorial, and as I have been taught, a territorial wyvern tends to set things on fire… and the aviary is full of trees. So, for reasons of sanity and landscaping, the wyverns instead spent most of their time in the stable, or, if multiple wyverns were in the aviary, their riders had to be with them at all times.
A low growl filled my ears, and I realized that I had stopped in front of Carnelian's cage. The beast staring at me was nearly a third again as large as Beithir, and a helluva lot meaner as well. Bright red skin with a tan underbelly, its golden eyes stared at me as I quickened my pace. The two horns on its head, signifying it to be a… frankly I didn't recall, it wasn't a brute, but it wasn't a 'swift-drake' as Beithir was called either. All that mattered was the giant hulk of meat and flame was best off far away from me, and I found myself walking rather quickly up to Beithir's cage. Her head lifted as I approached, Beithir had apparently been resting it on her own stomach, and I watched as she unfurled herself to look at me, blinking in a way I had learned was meant to be curiosity. The cell that Beithir found herself in was rather large, a good thirty feet in every direction to allow the occupant movement, you are separated by a sturdy iron cage with a rather complicated gate and a far simpler human-sized door.
"Well good evening Beithir, all rested from the flight earlier?"
She tilted her head, tongue darting out to taste the air as I reached for the door to the cage. With a click of the handle and a shunk of the latch, it swung open. I got about halfway into the paddock before Beithir stood up on her two legs and lumbered over to me. I grinned at that, idly reaching up to pet her snout while looking her over.
"Wounds just about healed up on yer wings, gonna leave a scar sadly. Feeling good?" Beithir let out a loud 'huffing' sound that I'd taken to equate with a cat's purr, and I doubled the speed of my rubbing on her snout. "Well now, glad ta' hear it, up fer a ride this evenin'?"
"I'm starting to think you enjoy her company." Morrigan said from behind me.
I jumped, then jerked my head back to see her staring at me from behind the bars. "Ya need to stop doin' that ya damned cutpurse."
Morrigan smiles, slightly. "What would that be?"
"Sneaking 'round like some fox trying to get at the hens."
The Irish-woman rolled her eyes. "I wasn't 'sneaking around,' I was checking on Carnelian."
"Aye, ah'm sure," I replied, then turned around to face her. Beithir snorted, and I felt her tongue lick the back of my hand as I answered her question. "An' why wouldn't I?"
"It did destroy your livelihood." Morrigan responds.
"She was just a scared animal, ah particularly big one, but still just an animal. 'Sides, hatin' her won't fix the shed now will it?"
Morrigan makes a non-committal noise, not replying for a moment before she looks down the track towards the southern entrance. "I've entered you for the tournament in London, it's the start of the season for them, so you'll be doing one after another."
I arched a brow. "I assume there is a payout for this?"
"There is," Morrigan responded, looking back at me as she spoke. "I'm surprised you aren't asking why I signed you up for it."
"Ah need the money to pay off Wellbrook. Ah don't have a choice, ah either get good enough to make some money or Beithir goes back to that bampot. Frankly ah'm willin' to do anythin' needed to become a good enough rider to accomplish that. Ah was plannin' on taking Beithir out on a night-time ride over the channel if that was alright, have yet to take her out at night and ah figured me and 'er could use the exercise." I asked.
"Alright, but tomorrow we are starting with the obstacle course." Morrigan responds.
I stared at her. "There's an obstacle course?"
Morrigan only smirked and walked away, leaving me alone with the wyvern poking her nose into my back. Well.
Something to look forward to at least.
---
Beithir let out a happy trill as she stretched her wings, her powerful feet thudding on the ground as we made our way out of the stables. I was now fully armored, with Beithir's reins in my grip as I got her up to speed. With each passing moment, she grew faster and faster, the loud thump of her feet getting louder and longer along the ground as she tucked her wings tighter and tighter to her sides. The moment before we reached the threshold she leapt forward, her wings extending then slamming down towards the earth, and with a rush of wind we were off in the air.
Beithir did not take off with the rapid flaps of a bird, no, she took off like a bullet in flight. One large burst of power, then her wings tucked at her sides as she used the speed she gained on the ground to propel herself into the air. Once she cleared the treetops I jerked the reins to the right and Beithir responded immediately. Her body tilted, one wing extended as she curved around to the right and towards the water. I then snapped the reins back, causing her to pull into a climb, with just the right amount of pressure from my legs on her midsection her wings start to flap rapidly, the wyvern gaining more speed despite the climb I was currently leading her into.
The wind whistled by my ears as the earth got farther and farther below me, and with another -harder- press of my legs she slammed her wings into the air, lifting so rapidly that I rose out of my stirrups briefly. Then we hit the clouds; foggy, wet, freezing air passing by as she tore through them. It was a matter of seconds before we were through them, and once we were I pushed my feet down on the stirrups, telling Beithir to level out and slow down, spreading her wings as wide as they could go to glide along. Controlling a wyvern was a lot like controlling a horse, a horse that moved in three dimensions and had a bad attitude. Reaching down I patted Beithir's neck lightly, and a small jet of flame escaped her mouth. Here, above the clouds, I was soaking wet, and even through my armor and underlayers I could feel the chill setting into my fingers... but it was beautiful, and I spent a good few moments gazing up at the stars before I let out a whoop and pressed my knees into her sides again. "Alright girl, give me some speed."
She didn't need the encouragement. She started to rapidly beat her wings, angling her body down slightly as she gained speed in the air. Then, with a brief twist of the reins, she snapped them against her size, diving down through the clouds and slamming me back against the saddle. The helmet shifted, pressed against my face as I held onto the reins for dear life. With the construction of the saddle, I was in no actual danger of falling out from this maneuver, but as Beithir started adding rolls and loops into her flight without my supervision, it didn't help the fact that I was currently feeling mightily close to god.
The beast was happy to dance through the clouds, flames spewing out of her mouth as she twisted and turned. We burst through the bottom of them like an erupting beast from the dirt, water stinging my eyes as we tore through the night air. I was laughing, a true, joyful sound that could barely be heard over the rushing winds as we flew over the water. Dover was a good ways behind us now, and I pulled at the reins to slow Beithir down. The faint moonlight over the channel's waters was beautiful, and the faint orange light off in the distance in the water caught my eyes.
…
That was a ship on fire.
---
A week had passed since my first flight. A week filled with training, drills, lessons and study. Oh, sweet Saint Columba above the amount of study there was to do. Anatomy, flight theory, aerodin… airodyke? Air theory. Feeding practice, grooming practice, this, that, and the other thing as well, and honest as God's truth it was starting to be a fair bit overwhelming. In just one week, the stack of books next to my desk was starting to reach up to my hip, and each was weighty enough that I could probably grab one and beat Beithir to death with it. Admittedly she would probably maul me after the first hit, but it was the principle of the matter, not the actual ability.
The point of the matter, as I sat back in my chair and stared at the heavy tome in front of me, was that I was exhausted from studying. With a tired hand, I reached past the book to retrieve my pipe from its holder -a simple wooden thing- and with a sigh, I pushed myself back up from the desk and made my way over to the window. With a simple push, it swung open letting the salty air from the channel filter into the room and tickle my nose. I grimaced slightly but leaned out the window regardless. I wasn't quite used to the scent of saltwater, and it has yet to grow pleasant to my senses. It doesn't help that it managed to almost completely drown any scent of nature beyond that of the aviary, though that may just be how new I am to being near the ocean. Scotland, while never particularly far from the ocean at any place, usually had enough hills to keep the smell of the brine away.
That, and the general scents of the farm I supposed. Leaning out the window I lit the pipe, the taste of tobacco filling my mouth a moment later before I breathed it out. One nice point of living near the big cities is, at least, cheaper tobacco compared to home. I had given up the art of smoking entirely at home, not so much here. Of course, here I'm not allowed to smoke in my room or on the grounds, something put in place due to Morrigan's personal preferences. Hence why I was currently leaning out of my room over the grounds. I smiled around the pipe, idly glancing about the grounds. I didn't particularly have the funds to afford the tobacco, truth be told I didn't much have the funds for anything. But I don't have much future to worry about either, it was, as far as I figured, quite simple. I either succeeded in my goal to make the money back to pay off Wellbrook, or I became a homeless worker in London. I wouldn't be the first, I damn well wouldn't be the last, and I was determined to at least get some small enjoyment as I could while my meals were being provided for me along with room and board. Tapping the pipe against the window frame a moment I glanced back at the room. The mattress was laying on the floor, blankets set atop it. Morrigan insisted I sleep on it, but the silly mick never specified how.
The moon illuminated the room well enough, more than the faintly flickering candle sitting on the desk. Its orange light cast odd shadows onto the tan pages of the book, and I watched it dance briefly before moving my gaze toward the mannequin standing just beyond it. It was dressed in my armor and helmet, proudly displaying some dents and scratches from the times when Beithir got a rather amusing opinion about whether or not I should be allowed to ride her. The beast had taken to me well, but she had a stubborn streak to her like a horse that needed to be broken. Of course, I could just use a twitch on a horse if it was feeling particularly feisty, Beithur would most likely set it on fire and then myself, possibly not in that order. Beithir was fast but hard to control, very… temperamental, but she seemed to calm down well enough once I actually mounted her.
Walking forward I slid my hand over the desk, idly running my hand over the open book before closing it and dousing the candle with my fingers. The room fell into darkness, the only illumination being the moonlight coming through the window. But the darkness was something I was used to, it wasn't like my original home had a great number of candles either. Continuing my walk I grabbed my outfit from the mannequin, then made my way out the door.
If it wasn't to be a night of study, it would be of training. If I had to spend one more bleeding moment reading about the theoretical theories of theoretical practices by Mr Pendragon I would more than likely use the pile of pages for kindling. At the very least, the hallways were quite pretty to look at at night; the moonlight poured in through the giant windows, illuminating the tiled floor and the statues. It was beautiful, and it was a private pleasure I had come to enjoy in this place, if only because -with the lack of students- I was the only person around at this time of night. Barring Morrigan, but as far as I was aware she was situated far away on a higher floor. With the help in their rooms, there was no one to bother me as I took an evening stroll through the building. The shadows of the night stretched and morphed the statues as I walked by, somehow making them taller and grander in obscurity as I moved down the hall. I stared at their white faces as I passed, a few now recognized to me… but none I was particularly impressed with. All were former students, and all went on to do this or that, attained some titles or made riches.
I would be happy just getting the farm back.
Not to say the image did not dance in my mind as I stepped into the lobby and then outside; Arthur Adair, the greatest wyvern rider to ever grace the land! The thought brought a chuckle out of me as I walked. All boys had dreams like that when they were younger, now there was just far too much to do, but I would for the time being enjoy the situation I was put in. With a smile on my face, I made my way into the stables, and I had to admit that they were a fair bit better than the one I had the misfortune of seeing back in London.
It was, in effect, a long and wide tunnel. Easily a good three to four dozen feet across and four to five times as long. The floor was dirt with stone walls surrounding it, and spaced a good distance apart on either side was a row of cages built into the walls themselves. Unlike the stone floor of the stables in London, these were dirt, allowing the wyverns inside of them to rest comfortably. The entire structure was in barest essence a straight line with two large openings on either end that could be closed with an iron gate. The reason for this particular setup was only revealed to me the first time I had to fetch Beithir from here; so that a wyvern could step out, and assuming the gates were open, sprint down the track and lift off the moment they were outdoors.
A rather smart system, and rather more humane. I'd have rather kept my wyvern in the aviary if at all possible, but that was running on a schedule of wyverns being allowed in it at certain times, and then only alone. As two wyverns trapped in there together could get territorial, and as I have been taught, a territorial wyvern tends to set things on fire… and the aviary is full of trees. So, for reasons of sanity and landscaping, the wyverns instead spent most of their time in the stable, or, if multiple wyverns were in the aviary, their riders had to be with them at all times.
A low growl filled my ears, and I realized that I had stopped in front of Carnelian's cage. The beast staring at me was nearly a third again as large as Beithir, and a helluva lot meaner as well. Bright red skin with a tan underbelly, its golden eyes stared at me as I quickened my pace. The two horns on its head, signifying it to be a… frankly I didn't recall, it wasn't a brute, but it wasn't a 'swift-drake' as Beithir was called either. All that mattered was the giant hulk of meat and flame was best off far away from me, and I found myself walking rather quickly up to Beithir's cage. Her head lifted as I approached, Beithir had apparently been resting it on her own stomach, and I watched as she unfurled herself to look at me, blinking in a way I had learned was meant to be curiosity. The cell that Beithir found herself in was rather large, a good thirty feet in every direction to allow the occupant movement, you are separated by a sturdy iron cage with a rather complicated gate and a far simpler human-sized door.
"Well good evening Beithir, all rested from the flight earlier?"
She tilted her head, tongue darting out to taste the air as I reached for the door to the cage. With a click of the handle and a shunk of the latch, it swung open. I got about halfway into the paddock before Beithir stood up on her two legs and lumbered over to me. I grinned at that, idly reaching up to pet her snout while looking her over.
"Wounds just about healed up on yer wings, gonna leave a scar sadly. Feeling good?" Beithir let out a loud 'huffing' sound that I'd taken to equate with a cat's purr, and I doubled the speed of my rubbing on her snout. "Well now, glad ta' hear it, up fer a ride this evenin'?"
"I'm starting to think you enjoy her company." Morrigan said from behind me.
I jumped, then jerked my head back to see her staring at me from behind the bars. "Ya need to stop doin' that ya damned cutpurse."
Morrigan smiles, slightly. "What would that be?"
"Sneaking 'round like some fox trying to get at the hens."
The Irish-woman rolled her eyes. "I wasn't 'sneaking around,' I was checking on Carnelian."
"Aye, ah'm sure," I replied, then turned around to face her. Beithir snorted, and I felt her tongue lick the back of my hand as I answered her question. "An' why wouldn't I?"
"It did destroy your livelihood." Morrigan responds.
"She was just a scared animal, ah particularly big one, but still just an animal. 'Sides, hatin' her won't fix the shed now will it?"
Morrigan makes a non-committal noise, not replying for a moment before she looks down the track towards the southern entrance. "I've entered you for the tournament in London, it's the start of the season for them, so you'll be doing one after another."
I arched a brow. "I assume there is a payout for this?"
"There is," Morrigan responded, looking back at me as she spoke. "I'm surprised you aren't asking why I signed you up for it."
"Ah need the money to pay off Wellbrook. Ah don't have a choice, ah either get good enough to make some money or Beithir goes back to that bampot. Frankly ah'm willin' to do anythin' needed to become a good enough rider to accomplish that. Ah was plannin' on taking Beithir out on a night-time ride over the channel if that was alright, have yet to take her out at night and ah figured me and 'er could use the exercise." I asked.
"Alright, but tomorrow we are starting with the obstacle course." Morrigan responds.
I stared at her. "There's an obstacle course?"
Morrigan only smirked and walked away, leaving me alone with the wyvern poking her nose into my back. Well.
Something to look forward to at least.
---
Beithir let out a happy trill as she stretched her wings, her powerful feet thudding on the ground as we made our way out of the stables. I was now fully armored, with Beithir's reins in my grip as I got her up to speed. With each passing moment, she grew faster and faster, the loud thump of her feet getting louder and longer along the ground as she tucked her wings tighter and tighter to her sides. The moment before we reached the threshold she leapt forward, her wings extending then slamming down towards the earth, and with a rush of wind we were off in the air.
Beithir did not take off with the rapid flaps of a bird, no, she took off like a bullet in flight. One large burst of power, then her wings tucked at her sides as she used the speed she gained on the ground to propel herself into the air. Once she cleared the treetops I jerked the reins to the right and Beithir responded immediately. Her body tilted, one wing extended as she curved around to the right and towards the water. I then snapped the reins back, causing her to pull into a climb, with just the right amount of pressure from my legs on her midsection her wings start to flap rapidly, the wyvern gaining more speed despite the climb I was currently leading her into.
The wind whistled by my ears as the earth got farther and farther below me, and with another -harder- press of my legs she slammed her wings into the air, lifting so rapidly that I rose out of my stirrups briefly. Then we hit the clouds; foggy, wet, freezing air passing by as she tore through them. It was a matter of seconds before we were through them, and once we were I pushed my feet down on the stirrups, telling Beithir to level out and slow down, spreading her wings as wide as they could go to glide along. Controlling a wyvern was a lot like controlling a horse, a horse that moved in three dimensions and had a bad attitude. Reaching down I patted Beithir's neck lightly, and a small jet of flame escaped her mouth. Here, above the clouds, I was soaking wet, and even through my armor and underlayers I could feel the chill setting into my fingers... but it was beautiful, and I spent a good few moments gazing up at the stars before I let out a whoop and pressed my knees into her sides again. "Alright girl, give me some speed."
She didn't need the encouragement. She started to rapidly beat her wings, angling her body down slightly as she gained speed in the air. Then, with a brief twist of the reins, she snapped them against her size, diving down through the clouds and slamming me back against the saddle. The helmet shifted, pressed against my face as I held onto the reins for dear life. With the construction of the saddle, I was in no actual danger of falling out from this maneuver, but as Beithir started adding rolls and loops into her flight without my supervision, it didn't help the fact that I was currently feeling mightily close to god.
The beast was happy to dance through the clouds, flames spewing out of her mouth as she twisted and turned. We burst through the bottom of them like an erupting beast from the dirt, water stinging my eyes as we tore through the night air. I was laughing, a true, joyful sound that could barely be heard over the rushing winds as we flew over the water. Dover was a good ways behind us now, and I pulled at the reins to slow Beithir down. The faint moonlight over the channel's waters was beautiful, and the faint orange light off in the distance in the water caught my eyes.
…
That was a ship on fire.