- Pronouns
- Masculine
...wonder if there will be any access to a Dwarven Sky Barge...?
Sailing to Barak Var and going the land route is one thing...
Sailing to Barak Var and going the land route is one thing...
(Fairy Tail/ Warhammer Fantasy) The Fairy Queen of Tilea
- Thread starter AllenWalker
- Start date
Neruz
Rogue Spiderbanana
- Location
- The Land of Fire and Poison
Oh boy, Black Crag.
Well blowing the arse out of Black Crag is definitely one way to gain the attention of basically everyone.
I shall now unveil my prowess of prophecy to predict that Gorfang Rotgut is not going to have a good day, not at all.
And Thorgrim is going to be so grumpy about a bloody umgi witch being so helpful, umgi are supposed to cause problems dammit, not solve them!
e:
So yeah I'd expect Gyrocopters at least, perhaps even a full Thunderbarge if they can find a Dawi Engineer insane (or drunk) enough to pilot one of the handful that exist.
Well blowing the arse out of Black Crag is definitely one way to gain the attention of basically everyone.
I shall now unveil my prowess of prophecy to predict that Gorfang Rotgut is not going to have a good day, not at all.
And Thorgrim is going to be so grumpy about a bloody umgi witch being so helpful, umgi are supposed to cause problems dammit, not solve them!
e:
I'm fairly sure that, canonically speaking, flying machine is the only safe(ish) way to get to Karak Azul, being entirely surrounded by angry Greenskins the way it is.
So yeah I'd expect Gyrocopters at least, perhaps even a full Thunderbarge if they can find a Dawi Engineer insane (or drunk) enough to pilot one of the handful that exist.
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- Pronouns
- Masculine
Black Crag is basically the capital of the current Greenskin nation. Big, old, and a powerful fortress. Because its one of the greatest fortresses built by the Dwarves.
It was the capital and central hub for the Greenskin race during the old Warhammer MMORPG that they did, because it is just that... so big and famous.
It is currently controlled by Gorfang Rotgut who is a big, nasty orc who rules one of the largest mobz currently around... the Red Fangs.
Though his destiny was that he was going to get beaten down and killed by Grimgor Ironhide...
Yeah. Lots of story there. But taking Black Crag would be such a boon to the Dwarven people and such a blow to the Orcs that it would shift the balance of power in the war they fight.
Chapter 17
- Pronouns
- He
Titania 17
The weeks following the fight with the Skaven and Erza's promise to Goric that she would go and see about saving this King Kazadors family, had been bereft of many further events of comparable scale.
That was not to say that nothing had happened.
Multiple times they had been assaulted by smaller Skaven packs, seldom more than thirty to forty. They had been pathetic things; small and haggard, more bone than flesh, armed with nothing but their broken teeth and sticks. It had been easy to dispatch them and none of the caravan crew had died. She hardly needed to exert herself, feeling some pity in spite of their hostility.
Goric had explained to her that they were Skaven outcasts, driven mad and feral by their own hunger. Apparently the Skaven bred in such enormous numbers that they couldn't sustain their own population, and from time to time those who could not feed themselves were cast out from their society, to die or hary the people of the surface.
Erza could scarcely imagine it, horrified at how one could treat their fellow people so.
Outside of that there had been nothing remarkable. One night the men and women had been plagued by terrible dreams and nightmares, but Grimaldi had taken care of it. By his claims some dark spirit had harassed them, specters of the people consumed by the Skaven in the blighted marshes and he had spent an entire night doing some sort of ceremony to put them to rest.
Erza hadn't noticed anything, but then again, she wasn't familiar with these lands. Emanuello had also asked her to just patrol the camp from time to time, for some reason the people slept better then. Did her body keep those specter things away?
It mattered not, Grimaldi's ceremony fixed it.
The closer they came to their destination the livelier the surroundings became. Dead marshes filled with sickening energy gave way to hills, forests and fields, many even cultivated. Every now and again they came across isolated farmers, most of whom either went to cover or held weapons threateningly.
And there were plenty of smaller cities and villages. Often enough they were first treated with suspicion but upon the recognition of a sizable merchant convoy they gladly were let in. People were eager to trade them, be it for simply accommodating the men of the caravan or trying to grab some valuable goods they were carrying for themselves.
As they came closer to their destination they also began to meet other travelers. Bands of adventurers, patrols, other merchants and even some mercenary groups. Some of them had eyed her and the goods in the wagons hungrily but the sight of so many armed dwarfs and guards kept them from trying anything stupid.
Her caravan wasn't so tense now, given the increasing distance from the blighted marshes. There was still that visible divide between the men, at least now they weren't coming to blows so easily. Not after one bizarre incident, where a guard had celebrated early with a bottle he packed, trying to hug her before his comrades dragged him off. Emanuello hadn't gotten much sleep mediating the dispute, by morning she only saw one fresh bruise on the hungover guard's eye.
Villa Gendorio was the last stop before Miragliano, a small yet bustling town a day's walk away. By then many guards had relaxed, starting to trade jokes or goods among themselves. Not entirely though, sergeants did their rounds to enforce discipline, and the dwarfs took no part in any festivities.
"Always at the end is where they getcha. It's what my pa says." One guard told her before he stopped a gaggle of men from visiting a lively inn, where several pretty girls hanging out front happily called for them. Erza had given the inn a once over, realizing what it was; Magnolia had no such places as far as she knew, other cities like Crocus weren't so well behaved.
Then she arrived.
Erza had been to great cities before. Magnolia, the city where the Fairy Tail guild was located, was a center for commerce far and wide, with distinct guilds, first and foremost the mage guild fairy tail. It was a sprawling metropolis she had come to love over the years, in part because of how often she had to repair things.
But even Magnolia seemed tiny compared to what was laying before her. On the road that crested a small hill, Erza beheld a marvel of a city, standing up on her rattling seat to get a better view. She roamed her eyes over the sprawling metropolis, shaped like a series of rings extending from a center island. Each district was variable and built tall, no two areas were exactly like, but all were artfully arranged even from her distance.
Canals divided the separate districts, largely replacing streets for any other city. There she spotted a fleet of sailing ships heading into and out of the city. Some were small ships like she was accustomed to, others were enormous galleons that dwarfed the buildings they sailed by. More ships were in the harbor, a few leaving, a few arriving.
To her keen eye however, Miragliano wasn't just form. The outlying islands were protected by thick stone walls, the furthest ones out were veritable fortresses that were a match for anything in Fiore, while the ones in the city proper were built against the stubby buildings. Or rather the other way around she guessed. Not one looked decrepit or ill maintained, around an outer island she spotted a stubby boat patrolling rows of portcullises.
Spaced in regular intervals were large multi storey towers overlooking the moat, which oddly leaned; most had a slight bent, some looked dangerously unstable. Erza was concerned of what that meant for the city defenses, but she couldn't deny it was an impressive sight. It certainly offered a better view than Crocus, the leaning towers giving it an odd charm.
She did wonder how they could remain stable while staying that way? Some kind of magic? Technology? No matter what was behind it, it would allow the defenders to assault any attackers who tried to scale the walls. Assuming they could anyway, she saw how wide the rivers and canals were; she doubted that was a coincidence.
Erza had thought Villa Gendori was unimpressive, coloring her impression of Miragliano. She saw now how wrong she was.
"Quite the sight eh?" Beni chuckled at her awed gaze. "Every new arrival looks the same my Lady. Miragliano takes the breath away."
The caravan slowed when approaching a sizable gate, the size of a small house and well stocked by guards and defenses; she spotted a trebuchet on the top of the thick wall, parked close enough so visitors could see. That wasn't the wisest place to put it, Erza thought, but she supposed the couple ballistas which did aim at the road may not have been pointy enough. Flashes from the crooked towers told her they were being watched thoroughly. At the moment the huge portcullis was opened, allowing a stream of travelers in and out.
More guards approached the caravan from a station, a dozen men in similar armor as her group but with clean yellow outfits and no nonsense demeanors. And something else for a few of them, spotting a rope hanging from one's belt that was studded by familiar rat paws. They were waved to a small clearing, just as another couple wagons were departing into the gates.
Emanuello left his wagon to speak to them, still a little sore based on how he walked but now rested. Erza sat back and let him do his thing, chatting away with an occasional laugh that not all the Miragliano guards shared. Ten minutes of haranguing later and he sighed, turning to approach with the new men at his flanks.
"Rat inspection. These men are just looking." He called with audible irritation, sending the apparent sergeant a sharp glance.
Starting from the back, the Miragliano guards poked at each wagon; in the back, underneath, in a few boxes. Much to the men's irritation, warily protecting the goods they had taken such effort to transport here. When it came to the dwarfs however they were much quicker and hardly did more than peek; Erza remembered Goric's rage back at the marshes, they would take offense to any claim of harboring Skaven.
They kept working their way up, until finally they reached Erza's wagon. A few men still did their jobs, only now they were slacking.
"Myrmidia's bosom, where did you come from?" One man whistled.
"I'm a traveler looking to get home." Erza answered.
"Oho, you found it. You must be going for the Rich district, aren't ya." Another asked with severe disappointment.
"Shame, you'd be worth all my savings." Yet another muttered.
"You best keep your hands to yourselves lads." Beni warned.
"Yeah yeah, higher up on the social ladder." One waved him away.
"Oi lass, how long have you been on the road? Miragliano is safe, you don't need that armor." The first grinned wildly.
Erza raised a brow in confusion. It was a warm day to be sure, but after what happened on the road she had zero intention to relax her armor habit here. Perhaps she could be more presentable to the mages here when she met them…
"All clear! Let 'em through!" The leader bellowed, jolting her out of her concerns.
Jeers followed her, one younger man jogging by the side for a moment. "Oi! Oi! I'll give you a hundred crowns for a peek! Two hundred! Two hundred and a gold bar!"
He fell behind when they passed the gates, falling to his knees and wailing, which amused his comrades to no end with how loud they laughed. They and her caravan alike, even a few dwarfs taking the opportunity to chuckle.
Beni was no exception, chuckling. "Serves 'em right. If only they knew milady."
As funny as that was, however, Erza still felt uneasy. For all the boasting and tall tales, Miragliano was just as weird as these men. They weren't going to ask her to bless their children too, were they? She really didn't need that right now.
"What were they talking about?" She had to ask, hoping he wasn't about to confirm her fears.
"Hehe, just young dumb fools without much brains. Although… erm, don't take this the wrong way milady? But, uh, you really aren't helping your case." Beni winced.
"Why?" That was because of something she did? But she didn't break anything, and she hadn't grabbed any of her fancy dresses, like that special black and green bunny girl outfit she saved for a special occasion. She peeked at her chestplate; it was her normal wear, nobody ever commented on it.
"Well…" Beni gulped. "Your hair is uncovered, and your knees are showing." He gestured without looking. "And your skirt? One strong breeze and everyone can see your thighs. Its, uh, kinda indecent."
Erza just stared at him blankly. What kind of bizarre social rules were those? By that logic, the only woman she knew who passed was Wendy. Returning to looking forward, she worried she would have to wear something else to make the mages listen; although if the city had a decent tailor or two, surely they would understand if she picked up a new dress or two. Or three. Or more…
Then they entered Miragliano itself, and for a time she wasn't fretting over them. The city was impressive from a distance, up close it was amazing. Shadowed by the many towers, the city was narrow yet welcoming, crisscrossed by canals and roads permitting barges and small boats and whatever else to go wherever they needed to be. Streets were crowded to be sure, with citizens and traders bustling everywhere on anything she could imagine. The loud noise buffeted her, thousands of voices making themselves heard in every direction. She couldn't make out a fraction of what was going on.
Rattling had her realize the stone streets were remarkably smooth, the outer edges where citizens walked was smooth from so many steps, while the center where wagons like theirs was made much rougher for horse comfort. And not only that, it was amazingly clean. No garbage littered the path, some workers shoveled up a manure pile while they passed, and the few beggars she saw seemed well behaved, though she guessed that was due to some nearby guards.
Sniffing the air, Erza saw one fanciful tale was wrong; the city was supposed to be fresher than any other, healthy even. She still smelled swampland and other unpleasant things, albeit laced by other scents. Flowers, sewage, soaps she assumed, and, and… cake? They had cakes here too?
Tapping her cheek, Erza sniffed to find that delicious odor was gone. She knew she smelled her prize, though regretfully she couldn't go hunting for it now. There was too much to do, between finding her way around and getting Emanuello's help to find the mages here. Nevertheless she made plans to grab a few before the meeting.
One thing that stood out the most however, were a number of large stakes that were found from time to time, each displaying a severed skaven head on it. Many were placed on street corners or signposts, though those looked largely different than the ones she had encountered. One was as much as six or seven times larger than the skaven that had attacked them on the road.
Were there many different subspecies of Skaven? Maybe like dogs? She had to ask someone about that some time.
"It's from the ratcatchers." Beni quickly provided her context, gesturing at some rather well armed men that stood around the nearest stakes in question. "They get paid for how many skaven skulls they bring. To show their skills to any potential employee, they put their most impressive hunts up on stakes."
"Well that makes sense, but isn't it ineffective to see about employment here? The swamps with the skaven are weeks away!" She gave the men in question an appraising look. The skaven she had battled had been formidable enemies, these men -and even some women if she saw correctly- were very brave to do such a thing.
"Uh, well…." Beni shuffled uncomfortably. "The skaven aren't just there. There are smaller skaven lairs everywhere and I hear that they regularly try to infiltrate this city through the canal system. These make sure to cull the rats down there."
"That sounds highly concerning, doesn't the government of this city do something against that?" She shuddered a little when thinking what exactly she knew about the skaven, while looking at the ground below her. Did that mean that there could be some of the ratkin under their very feet?
"Aye, so I hear. Can't imagine there's too many with how busy the rat-catchers are." Beni assured her, though she didn't feel any better. Looking around, she coldly realized her usual tactics thus far wouldn't work here. Too many people, too crowded, if she did her thing then… she didn't want to imagine the damage.
Despite the noise she heard a whistle, one that wasn't the usual calls when people saw her 'indecency' as hard as it still was for her to wrap her head around that idea. Swiveling around, she spotted Goric standing on his wagon and waving, besides a wary Emanuello. He gestured for her to come over.
The gap was close enough that she could cover it in one leap, but she didn't want to risk destroying the wagon upon impact. Hopping off after waving placatingly at Beni, she hit the road to wait, forcing herself still at the many, many people nearby who stopped to ogle her.
"Morr protect me from femine whiles-"
"Oh wow they're really making sure the new girls are safe nowadays-"
"Grab Antony, quick! He's gotta see this!"
The longest ten seconds of Erza's life, well, not exactly when she remembered the Grand Magic Games, passed before the right wagon arrived, and she scrambled on far quicker than she planned to. Plopping beside the two men, she sighed in relief.
"Are you alright?" Emanuello asked beside her, worry written on his expression.
"Yes, mostly." Shuddering, Erza forced herself to meet their gazes.
"Goric told me already. About his request." Emanuello grimaced. "Do you know what you are getting yourself into?"
"Its not the first dangerous rescue mission I've undertaken, nor will it be the last." Thinking of the events they went through to get Master Makarov safely returned, she struggled to imagine something more harrowing.
Emanuello shook his head. "No, this is something different. Black Crag... by Myrmidia, if even just half the stories I've heard about are true, the only more dangerous place you can find is the cursed rat city itself. You…. you are going to die if you go there alone, or with only a small company that Goric can muster." A strange expression formed on his face as he said that, his eyes glancing over her. "Are you really sure you are going to do this?"
Erza smiled. "I am honor-bound to help. I have gotten myself out of no shortage of sticky situations, I can succeed here without serious trouble."
"For a given definition." Goric coughed. "From what I've seen of her Lord Emanuello, she can do it. Every minute we waste is one step closer to the greenskins deciding they don't need prisoners anymore."
"Wait a day then. Just a day, please." Emanuello gripped her wrist, and after a second grabbed the dwarf's bulky shoulder. "At least enough for some rest before you set off again."
"Time is of the essence." Goric rumbled.
"I thought rushing things was the umgi way." A small and slightly vicious smile graced Emanuello's face for a second, Goric curling his lip.
He snorted. "Fine, a day. I have to make sure everything is in order before I leave anyway."
"And I have things I have to do as well. I can't accompany you, but I also can't send you off on your own. Not if I can do something to help." He returned to that quiet pleading, almost drowned out in the dull roar of Miragliano.
"Whatever you can do will be appreciated." Erza agreed. She couldn't think of much, but the man surely had a few tricks up his sleeves.
The weeks following the fight with the Skaven and Erza's promise to Goric that she would go and see about saving this King Kazadors family, had been bereft of many further events of comparable scale.
That was not to say that nothing had happened.
Multiple times they had been assaulted by smaller Skaven packs, seldom more than thirty to forty. They had been pathetic things; small and haggard, more bone than flesh, armed with nothing but their broken teeth and sticks. It had been easy to dispatch them and none of the caravan crew had died. She hardly needed to exert herself, feeling some pity in spite of their hostility.
Goric had explained to her that they were Skaven outcasts, driven mad and feral by their own hunger. Apparently the Skaven bred in such enormous numbers that they couldn't sustain their own population, and from time to time those who could not feed themselves were cast out from their society, to die or hary the people of the surface.
Erza could scarcely imagine it, horrified at how one could treat their fellow people so.
Outside of that there had been nothing remarkable. One night the men and women had been plagued by terrible dreams and nightmares, but Grimaldi had taken care of it. By his claims some dark spirit had harassed them, specters of the people consumed by the Skaven in the blighted marshes and he had spent an entire night doing some sort of ceremony to put them to rest.
Erza hadn't noticed anything, but then again, she wasn't familiar with these lands. Emanuello had also asked her to just patrol the camp from time to time, for some reason the people slept better then. Did her body keep those specter things away?
It mattered not, Grimaldi's ceremony fixed it.
The closer they came to their destination the livelier the surroundings became. Dead marshes filled with sickening energy gave way to hills, forests and fields, many even cultivated. Every now and again they came across isolated farmers, most of whom either went to cover or held weapons threateningly.
And there were plenty of smaller cities and villages. Often enough they were first treated with suspicion but upon the recognition of a sizable merchant convoy they gladly were let in. People were eager to trade them, be it for simply accommodating the men of the caravan or trying to grab some valuable goods they were carrying for themselves.
As they came closer to their destination they also began to meet other travelers. Bands of adventurers, patrols, other merchants and even some mercenary groups. Some of them had eyed her and the goods in the wagons hungrily but the sight of so many armed dwarfs and guards kept them from trying anything stupid.
Her caravan wasn't so tense now, given the increasing distance from the blighted marshes. There was still that visible divide between the men, at least now they weren't coming to blows so easily. Not after one bizarre incident, where a guard had celebrated early with a bottle he packed, trying to hug her before his comrades dragged him off. Emanuello hadn't gotten much sleep mediating the dispute, by morning she only saw one fresh bruise on the hungover guard's eye.
Villa Gendorio was the last stop before Miragliano, a small yet bustling town a day's walk away. By then many guards had relaxed, starting to trade jokes or goods among themselves. Not entirely though, sergeants did their rounds to enforce discipline, and the dwarfs took no part in any festivities.
"Always at the end is where they getcha. It's what my pa says." One guard told her before he stopped a gaggle of men from visiting a lively inn, where several pretty girls hanging out front happily called for them. Erza had given the inn a once over, realizing what it was; Magnolia had no such places as far as she knew, other cities like Crocus weren't so well behaved.
Then she arrived.
Erza had been to great cities before. Magnolia, the city where the Fairy Tail guild was located, was a center for commerce far and wide, with distinct guilds, first and foremost the mage guild fairy tail. It was a sprawling metropolis she had come to love over the years, in part because of how often she had to repair things.
But even Magnolia seemed tiny compared to what was laying before her. On the road that crested a small hill, Erza beheld a marvel of a city, standing up on her rattling seat to get a better view. She roamed her eyes over the sprawling metropolis, shaped like a series of rings extending from a center island. Each district was variable and built tall, no two areas were exactly like, but all were artfully arranged even from her distance.
Canals divided the separate districts, largely replacing streets for any other city. There she spotted a fleet of sailing ships heading into and out of the city. Some were small ships like she was accustomed to, others were enormous galleons that dwarfed the buildings they sailed by. More ships were in the harbor, a few leaving, a few arriving.
To her keen eye however, Miragliano wasn't just form. The outlying islands were protected by thick stone walls, the furthest ones out were veritable fortresses that were a match for anything in Fiore, while the ones in the city proper were built against the stubby buildings. Or rather the other way around she guessed. Not one looked decrepit or ill maintained, around an outer island she spotted a stubby boat patrolling rows of portcullises.
Spaced in regular intervals were large multi storey towers overlooking the moat, which oddly leaned; most had a slight bent, some looked dangerously unstable. Erza was concerned of what that meant for the city defenses, but she couldn't deny it was an impressive sight. It certainly offered a better view than Crocus, the leaning towers giving it an odd charm.
She did wonder how they could remain stable while staying that way? Some kind of magic? Technology? No matter what was behind it, it would allow the defenders to assault any attackers who tried to scale the walls. Assuming they could anyway, she saw how wide the rivers and canals were; she doubted that was a coincidence.
Erza had thought Villa Gendori was unimpressive, coloring her impression of Miragliano. She saw now how wrong she was.
"Quite the sight eh?" Beni chuckled at her awed gaze. "Every new arrival looks the same my Lady. Miragliano takes the breath away."
The caravan slowed when approaching a sizable gate, the size of a small house and well stocked by guards and defenses; she spotted a trebuchet on the top of the thick wall, parked close enough so visitors could see. That wasn't the wisest place to put it, Erza thought, but she supposed the couple ballistas which did aim at the road may not have been pointy enough. Flashes from the crooked towers told her they were being watched thoroughly. At the moment the huge portcullis was opened, allowing a stream of travelers in and out.
More guards approached the caravan from a station, a dozen men in similar armor as her group but with clean yellow outfits and no nonsense demeanors. And something else for a few of them, spotting a rope hanging from one's belt that was studded by familiar rat paws. They were waved to a small clearing, just as another couple wagons were departing into the gates.
Emanuello left his wagon to speak to them, still a little sore based on how he walked but now rested. Erza sat back and let him do his thing, chatting away with an occasional laugh that not all the Miragliano guards shared. Ten minutes of haranguing later and he sighed, turning to approach with the new men at his flanks.
"Rat inspection. These men are just looking." He called with audible irritation, sending the apparent sergeant a sharp glance.
Starting from the back, the Miragliano guards poked at each wagon; in the back, underneath, in a few boxes. Much to the men's irritation, warily protecting the goods they had taken such effort to transport here. When it came to the dwarfs however they were much quicker and hardly did more than peek; Erza remembered Goric's rage back at the marshes, they would take offense to any claim of harboring Skaven.
They kept working their way up, until finally they reached Erza's wagon. A few men still did their jobs, only now they were slacking.
"Myrmidia's bosom, where did you come from?" One man whistled.
"I'm a traveler looking to get home." Erza answered.
"Oho, you found it. You must be going for the Rich district, aren't ya." Another asked with severe disappointment.
"Shame, you'd be worth all my savings." Yet another muttered.
"You best keep your hands to yourselves lads." Beni warned.
"Yeah yeah, higher up on the social ladder." One waved him away.
"Oi lass, how long have you been on the road? Miragliano is safe, you don't need that armor." The first grinned wildly.
Erza raised a brow in confusion. It was a warm day to be sure, but after what happened on the road she had zero intention to relax her armor habit here. Perhaps she could be more presentable to the mages here when she met them…
"All clear! Let 'em through!" The leader bellowed, jolting her out of her concerns.
Jeers followed her, one younger man jogging by the side for a moment. "Oi! Oi! I'll give you a hundred crowns for a peek! Two hundred! Two hundred and a gold bar!"
He fell behind when they passed the gates, falling to his knees and wailing, which amused his comrades to no end with how loud they laughed. They and her caravan alike, even a few dwarfs taking the opportunity to chuckle.
Beni was no exception, chuckling. "Serves 'em right. If only they knew milady."
As funny as that was, however, Erza still felt uneasy. For all the boasting and tall tales, Miragliano was just as weird as these men. They weren't going to ask her to bless their children too, were they? She really didn't need that right now.
"What were they talking about?" She had to ask, hoping he wasn't about to confirm her fears.
"Hehe, just young dumb fools without much brains. Although… erm, don't take this the wrong way milady? But, uh, you really aren't helping your case." Beni winced.
"Why?" That was because of something she did? But she didn't break anything, and she hadn't grabbed any of her fancy dresses, like that special black and green bunny girl outfit she saved for a special occasion. She peeked at her chestplate; it was her normal wear, nobody ever commented on it.
"Well…" Beni gulped. "Your hair is uncovered, and your knees are showing." He gestured without looking. "And your skirt? One strong breeze and everyone can see your thighs. Its, uh, kinda indecent."
Erza just stared at him blankly. What kind of bizarre social rules were those? By that logic, the only woman she knew who passed was Wendy. Returning to looking forward, she worried she would have to wear something else to make the mages listen; although if the city had a decent tailor or two, surely they would understand if she picked up a new dress or two. Or three. Or more…
Then they entered Miragliano itself, and for a time she wasn't fretting over them. The city was impressive from a distance, up close it was amazing. Shadowed by the many towers, the city was narrow yet welcoming, crisscrossed by canals and roads permitting barges and small boats and whatever else to go wherever they needed to be. Streets were crowded to be sure, with citizens and traders bustling everywhere on anything she could imagine. The loud noise buffeted her, thousands of voices making themselves heard in every direction. She couldn't make out a fraction of what was going on.
Rattling had her realize the stone streets were remarkably smooth, the outer edges where citizens walked was smooth from so many steps, while the center where wagons like theirs was made much rougher for horse comfort. And not only that, it was amazingly clean. No garbage littered the path, some workers shoveled up a manure pile while they passed, and the few beggars she saw seemed well behaved, though she guessed that was due to some nearby guards.
Sniffing the air, Erza saw one fanciful tale was wrong; the city was supposed to be fresher than any other, healthy even. She still smelled swampland and other unpleasant things, albeit laced by other scents. Flowers, sewage, soaps she assumed, and, and… cake? They had cakes here too?
Tapping her cheek, Erza sniffed to find that delicious odor was gone. She knew she smelled her prize, though regretfully she couldn't go hunting for it now. There was too much to do, between finding her way around and getting Emanuello's help to find the mages here. Nevertheless she made plans to grab a few before the meeting.
One thing that stood out the most however, were a number of large stakes that were found from time to time, each displaying a severed skaven head on it. Many were placed on street corners or signposts, though those looked largely different than the ones she had encountered. One was as much as six or seven times larger than the skaven that had attacked them on the road.
Were there many different subspecies of Skaven? Maybe like dogs? She had to ask someone about that some time.
"It's from the ratcatchers." Beni quickly provided her context, gesturing at some rather well armed men that stood around the nearest stakes in question. "They get paid for how many skaven skulls they bring. To show their skills to any potential employee, they put their most impressive hunts up on stakes."
"Well that makes sense, but isn't it ineffective to see about employment here? The swamps with the skaven are weeks away!" She gave the men in question an appraising look. The skaven she had battled had been formidable enemies, these men -and even some women if she saw correctly- were very brave to do such a thing.
"Uh, well…." Beni shuffled uncomfortably. "The skaven aren't just there. There are smaller skaven lairs everywhere and I hear that they regularly try to infiltrate this city through the canal system. These make sure to cull the rats down there."
"That sounds highly concerning, doesn't the government of this city do something against that?" She shuddered a little when thinking what exactly she knew about the skaven, while looking at the ground below her. Did that mean that there could be some of the ratkin under their very feet?
"Aye, so I hear. Can't imagine there's too many with how busy the rat-catchers are." Beni assured her, though she didn't feel any better. Looking around, she coldly realized her usual tactics thus far wouldn't work here. Too many people, too crowded, if she did her thing then… she didn't want to imagine the damage.
Despite the noise she heard a whistle, one that wasn't the usual calls when people saw her 'indecency' as hard as it still was for her to wrap her head around that idea. Swiveling around, she spotted Goric standing on his wagon and waving, besides a wary Emanuello. He gestured for her to come over.
The gap was close enough that she could cover it in one leap, but she didn't want to risk destroying the wagon upon impact. Hopping off after waving placatingly at Beni, she hit the road to wait, forcing herself still at the many, many people nearby who stopped to ogle her.
"Morr protect me from femine whiles-"
"Oh wow they're really making sure the new girls are safe nowadays-"
"Grab Antony, quick! He's gotta see this!"
The longest ten seconds of Erza's life, well, not exactly when she remembered the Grand Magic Games, passed before the right wagon arrived, and she scrambled on far quicker than she planned to. Plopping beside the two men, she sighed in relief.
"Are you alright?" Emanuello asked beside her, worry written on his expression.
"Yes, mostly." Shuddering, Erza forced herself to meet their gazes.
"Goric told me already. About his request." Emanuello grimaced. "Do you know what you are getting yourself into?"
"Its not the first dangerous rescue mission I've undertaken, nor will it be the last." Thinking of the events they went through to get Master Makarov safely returned, she struggled to imagine something more harrowing.
Emanuello shook his head. "No, this is something different. Black Crag... by Myrmidia, if even just half the stories I've heard about are true, the only more dangerous place you can find is the cursed rat city itself. You…. you are going to die if you go there alone, or with only a small company that Goric can muster." A strange expression formed on his face as he said that, his eyes glancing over her. "Are you really sure you are going to do this?"
Erza smiled. "I am honor-bound to help. I have gotten myself out of no shortage of sticky situations, I can succeed here without serious trouble."
"For a given definition." Goric coughed. "From what I've seen of her Lord Emanuello, she can do it. Every minute we waste is one step closer to the greenskins deciding they don't need prisoners anymore."
"Wait a day then. Just a day, please." Emanuello gripped her wrist, and after a second grabbed the dwarf's bulky shoulder. "At least enough for some rest before you set off again."
"Time is of the essence." Goric rumbled.
"I thought rushing things was the umgi way." A small and slightly vicious smile graced Emanuello's face for a second, Goric curling his lip.
He snorted. "Fine, a day. I have to make sure everything is in order before I leave anyway."
"And I have things I have to do as well. I can't accompany you, but I also can't send you off on your own. Not if I can do something to help." He returned to that quiet pleading, almost drowned out in the dull roar of Miragliano.
"Whatever you can do will be appreciated." Erza agreed. She couldn't think of much, but the man surely had a few tricks up his sleeves.
Neruz
Rogue Spiderbanana
- Location
- The Land of Fire and Poison
HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE.
YES-YES. THERE IS NO-NOTHING UNDER MIRAGLIANO, DEFINITELY NOT-NOT A SKAVEN UNDERCITY. YOU ARE SAFE-SECURE HERE MAN-THINGS YES-YES.
(Yeah theres a fuckload of rats down there, Altdorf is probably the only human city with a larger ratman population, and that's mostly thanks to Altdorf's absurdly expansive sewer system.)
e:
The buuurrrrnnnsssssss!
Last edited:
- Pronouns
- He
Exactly-yes! No-not need to worry, yes-yesHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE.
YES-YES. THERE IS NO-NOTHING UNDER MIRAGLIANO, DEFINITELY NOT-NOT A SKAVEN UNDERCITY. YOU ARE SAFE-SECURE HERE MAN-THINGS YES-YES.
Hehehe, humans sometimes can grumble back
Chapter 18
- Pronouns
- He
Chapter 18
Emanuello de Vela was nervous.
This was not really an unusual thing, a healthy amount of paranoia was just a useful thing to have, especially in a city like Miragliano. Even under normal circumstances Tilean Politics were treacherous, but following the death of the famed besieger Borgio, the whole city felt like a powder barrel standing in a mountain of tinder.
The lord of Miragliano had possessed the greatest army in all of Tilea at the time of his passing. An army that now had fallen apart, many either fleeing the city, or marshalling to the various pretenders.
Rumors and news were aplenty, as the parts of his cohort told him, ones who had disappeared in the vile underbelly of the city as soon as they had arrived. While he and Erza had been walking around, they had been meeting paid informants from Tobaro about the situation, scried from the various power and information brokers in the countless whorehouses and taverns of the city on any rumors.
It was said that Dolchetta, the older sister of the infamous Lucrezzia Belladonna and wife of Borgio, had been accused of the deed. Much spoke for it. Borgio had been famous for his ability to survive any and all assasination attempts, so much that he had been believed to have died many times at an assassin's hand so far, only to stand back up and butcher his assailant.
Dolchetta also had been remarkably quick to surround herself in power and supporters before and after his assasination, using her money and the wealth of the Parvonan principality to convince many of the lesser Miragliano nobles and merchants, as well as many of Borgio's troops, to back her.
Undoubtedly this was an attempt of Lucrezzia to capitalize on the situation, putting her own sister on the throne of the great city much like she herself had done after her assination. At least that was Emanuello's assessment, and one that many of the higher nobles and merchants of the city seemed to share.
Already two assasination attempts had officially been made, trying to cut off the snake's head before the viper that was Lucrezzia could further support her. The two men - one rifleman who had missed his mark and a servant with a blade that had been just too short- now hung from the leaning towers, exactly where Borgio had always hung his rivals. The supposed mourning the new widow was in had not negated her ability to surround herself with a capable bodyguard it seemed.
But if he had been her, Emanuello wouldn't worry about the merchant princes and nobles of the city, no; He would be afraid of Vespero.
The famed mercenary general was in command of a legion of capable streetfighters and bodyguards, somehow managing to convince the Marksmen of Miragliano to join his cause, the most able sharpshooters in the world. He had heard that each and everyone of them needed to nail a gold coin through the head on a distance of three hundred feet, just to be accepted. A ridiculous claim he'd have rejected out of hand of men he personally trusted hadn't verified the stories, ones who had seen it themselves.
Vespero was uniquely loyal for a mercenary, and it was said that he was out for revenge after Borgio's death. Something that several corpses of regiment captains who had defected to Dolchetta could attest to, having been found in some corner or dark alleyway. This direct action from Vespero had most likely done much to prevent many of the still uncertain regiments to switch to Dolchetta's faction, not wanting to make themselves the target of men who considered shooting flies out of the air reasonable target practice.
The city was a tinderbox, with hidden street battles occurring every night, the different players making their moves to weaken others before things became bloody and dirty. So far Dolchetta seemed to be winning, with many a merchant prince finding themselves dead from a poisoned meal or some scrape they got somewhere during their days, that for some reason suddenly became infected.
Only Vespero's open declaration against the Dolchettan faction had kept the plate somewhat even, with the man himself virtually disappearing from the face of the world. No doubt to protect himself from Dolchetta's -or rather Lucrezzia's- poisons. An effective tactic he had to admit, as even his informants couldn't even hint to guess where the legendary crossbow man was.
Unfortunately his entrance had not gone unnoticed with the various powers that be. A man with his caravan who had been eating with him had suddenly collapsed convulsing and gasping for air, choking to death from his own swelling throat. And just this morning he had discovered a dart in his boot, covered in lethal poison that an unfortunate cat was so helpful to ascertain. Also somehow a bolt had found its way on the pillow of his room, just before he had gone to sleep.
Warnings, to make sure to not get involved. Announcements of what the consequences would be.
Honestly, they hadn't needed to make the effort as far as he was concerned, he'd stay as far away from that mess as possible. Not that he had that choice of course, as a swift message from his brother had more or less ordered him to make sure to see that the de Vela family was to profit from this chaos. There was also an unnecessary line telling him to keep using the Bianchi name, it was a fig leaf cover for trading and would keep more parties from snooping on him.
Sigh… he'd need to see if he could get himself some former members of Vespero's Vendetta as his bodyguard, they would know how to protect him against the man, if he paid them well enough. Not that he'd be hesitant to spend his money if his life was on the line, after all, all the coins in the world were useless when one found himself with a slit throat.
If he had just been careful and heard about Borgio's death before his arrival here, he'd have skipped Miragliano all together and went for one of the other city-states instead.
Suddenly a picture of a stunningly beautiful and voluptuous redhead passed through his head and he sighed again. He'd been distracted, not to mention that various merchant princes of what was "supposedly" Tilea's greatest city had spent a fair bit of effort to stop the news of Borgio's death from spreading, to curtail the swell of mercenaries and opportunists from arriving, eager to get employment and fame in the fighting to come. Not to protect the city from harm, of course, but because such men might very well join the opposing side.
Not that they had been blessed with any particular success in that regard. Mercenaries, even many of the infamous Dogs of war had been entering the city, coming from all over Tilea and beyond. Empire men, Ogres, Dwarfs, even some Dark Elves had appeared according to the rumor mill. He had his doubts about the last group, considering the well known High Elven quarter by the bay.
He had heard how just yesterday, the infamous long drong slayer pirates had entered the harbor, brought here by the aspect of a potential great doom and treasure undeniably waiting for any that would get involved in the approaching power struggle, to be claimed by those who came out victorious and alive.
Not that the alive part was all that much of a priority for the dwarven death seekers.
Two days ago Voland's famed riders galloped into the city. They were pretending to be a neutral party still, having talks with both Dolchetta´s and Vespero's factions. A ruse, as his informants had told him. Voland had only recently "left" the employee of Lucrezzia and was here most likely as a Parvonan patsy to aid the poison mistress's sister in the fights to come.
With so many mercenary bands being called to the city from the surrounding fortresses and towns under the control of the various opposing merchant princes, bandits, skaven and the less savory of the mercenary bands had been running rampant among the peasantry and poor living in the hinterlands of great Migraliano. That was until the Alcatani fellowship had descended from the green hills, falling on ratkin and banditry alike, honoring their reputation as the protectors of those that couldn't protect themselves.
Word of the street was, that they and Golfag´s Maneaters had fought a battle outside of the from the Ogre´s sacked village, Rodrigo retreating from Golfag´s brutes after he successfully had managed to steal the villagers from the Ogre´s hands before they could land in their cooking pots.
All in all Dolchetta seemed to be taking all opportunities to give her every advantage she could possibly reach for.
Braganza's besiegers for one had been held on a fourth somewhere about a week north of Migraliano. Dolchetta undoubtedly knew that they would join the factions that opposed her and had most likely bribed the mayor that was taking care of the bridge in question to stall that great military force and see if maybe some other merchant prince could take advantage and buy them off before they entered Migraliano proper.
Other, less powerful regiments that could be relied on to oppose Dolchetta were suddenly ambushed on the streets, found themselves in sudden combat with unusually aggressive skaven, orcs and even beastmen. One or two of such cases could be counted to be a coincidence, but at the rate they were happening? Dolchetta either had extraordinary luck or extraordinary allies.
To be honest, Emanuello wasn't sure which was worse for those that intended to fight her.
Already the opposing factions were seeking to gain the support of the populace and clergy, sponsoring great feasts, giving away aids and glorious masses in the great Temple of Myrmidia. It put the common people in a good mood and placated the gods, but he knew that this was just the calm before the storm. Soon blood would be flowing knee deep across the streets and alleyways, the great canals of the city would soon be bathed in red.
Yet, of all the mercenaries and groups that had entered migraliano, one stood out above them all. One that could decisively change the balance of power for one side or the other.
Arsanil, the Dragon lord, on top of his immense Dragon, the dreadful Deathfang, had descended on the city naught a week ago, just a day of the Besiegers inglourious demise.
Since then he had been resting in one of the few free spaces the cramped city had to offer, no one being brave -or rather foolish enough- to deny the Dragon lord the right to rest his beast in the city's park. Every faction in the city, small and large, had showered the Elf in gifts and offers of payment, knowing just how devastating he was, off the battles he and his dragon had won on their lonesome.
Miriagliano should know, given how often the non-humans had turned sure victories of the principality into bitter defeat, just by his arrival on the battlefield.
The proud Elf, famous for his pickiness in his payment, had rejected every single one, even a supposed seduction attempt from Dolchetta offering herself to him, a woman whose beauty was second only to her legendary sister told off like a common street whore. It was of course a coincidence that Arsanil was seen feeding Deathfang the remains of assassins just a day later.
It was to this Elf that he was traveling now, riding in his own personal boat, specifically for the canals of the city. In the middle he sat, beside him a jewel-encrusted box with gifts, ones hopefully exotic and exquisite enough to raise his interest and offer of employment.
To his left and right were armored body guards, handpicked by his brother to ensure his safety and of course loyalty, in case he got any stupid ideas. Not that he intended to do anything in that regard. Emanuello de Vela was many things, a coward, a party man who threw away way to much money, a whoremonger but he was not stupid.
People who crossed Tibaldus Marsarius de Vela did not tend to live long and he had no intention of joining that list of disappeared.
He did not seek out Arsanil out of any interest for the interests of the de vela banking clan or the power struggle in Migraliano however. No, his interests were simultaneously far more selfless and far pettier.
Not for the first or even tenth time he cursed that fool of a girl.
Black crag? What was she thinking!? Admittedly most of his information was hearsay and whatever mutterings he could pry out of the dwarfs, but that nonetheless painted a grim picture: a former dawi hold taken over by greenskins long ago, costing many lives both in its loss and the many attempts to reclaim it. The place was a fortress that was crawling with orcs and goblins and whatever other nasties the greenskins had, possibly quite literally. All the fighting men in Miragliano could reclaim it, perhaps.
Not that reclamation was even the goal. Erza fully intended to save the family of King Kazador, that were supposed to still live within the hell of a mountain.
Even in tobaro he had heard of the legendary story, or rather the legendary reward the dwarfen King had promised.
Half of the gold of the dwarfen hold. Millions of crowns, enough to make a homeless man equal to the greatest of merchant princes and to make a merchant prince supreme against all his rivals.
Entire armies of mercenaries and adventures had marched out to claim the grand reward, nobles and their retinues, witches and champions.
Not one had returned, be it in failure or success. All had been swallowed by that blasted mountain.
He could pay for an entire legion of mercenaries, spend the fortune of the vela banks in their entirety to hire the dogs of war and yet they would still fail all the same. What was needed here was more than that, it needed a grand distraction that could bait the orks away, while erza infiltrated Black crag in the meantime.
And he could only imagine one individual in Tilea who possessed that skill to even attempt such an action.
He just hoped this wasn't going to end with him in the belly of a dragon.
Gods, the things he was doing for that woman.
AN:
I wish you all a merry day. Hope you are enjoying this chapter from Emanuello´s perspective and what he´s been doing in the city. Plus the wonderfull mess that Borgio´s death left behind. As Always, criticism and comments are greatly welcome, as they help me improve my story.
Till the next chapter.
Emanuello de Vela was nervous.
This was not really an unusual thing, a healthy amount of paranoia was just a useful thing to have, especially in a city like Miragliano. Even under normal circumstances Tilean Politics were treacherous, but following the death of the famed besieger Borgio, the whole city felt like a powder barrel standing in a mountain of tinder.
The lord of Miragliano had possessed the greatest army in all of Tilea at the time of his passing. An army that now had fallen apart, many either fleeing the city, or marshalling to the various pretenders.
Rumors and news were aplenty, as the parts of his cohort told him, ones who had disappeared in the vile underbelly of the city as soon as they had arrived. While he and Erza had been walking around, they had been meeting paid informants from Tobaro about the situation, scried from the various power and information brokers in the countless whorehouses and taverns of the city on any rumors.
It was said that Dolchetta, the older sister of the infamous Lucrezzia Belladonna and wife of Borgio, had been accused of the deed. Much spoke for it. Borgio had been famous for his ability to survive any and all assasination attempts, so much that he had been believed to have died many times at an assassin's hand so far, only to stand back up and butcher his assailant.
Dolchetta also had been remarkably quick to surround herself in power and supporters before and after his assasination, using her money and the wealth of the Parvonan principality to convince many of the lesser Miragliano nobles and merchants, as well as many of Borgio's troops, to back her.
Undoubtedly this was an attempt of Lucrezzia to capitalize on the situation, putting her own sister on the throne of the great city much like she herself had done after her assination. At least that was Emanuello's assessment, and one that many of the higher nobles and merchants of the city seemed to share.
Already two assasination attempts had officially been made, trying to cut off the snake's head before the viper that was Lucrezzia could further support her. The two men - one rifleman who had missed his mark and a servant with a blade that had been just too short- now hung from the leaning towers, exactly where Borgio had always hung his rivals. The supposed mourning the new widow was in had not negated her ability to surround herself with a capable bodyguard it seemed.
But if he had been her, Emanuello wouldn't worry about the merchant princes and nobles of the city, no; He would be afraid of Vespero.
The famed mercenary general was in command of a legion of capable streetfighters and bodyguards, somehow managing to convince the Marksmen of Miragliano to join his cause, the most able sharpshooters in the world. He had heard that each and everyone of them needed to nail a gold coin through the head on a distance of three hundred feet, just to be accepted. A ridiculous claim he'd have rejected out of hand of men he personally trusted hadn't verified the stories, ones who had seen it themselves.
Vespero was uniquely loyal for a mercenary, and it was said that he was out for revenge after Borgio's death. Something that several corpses of regiment captains who had defected to Dolchetta could attest to, having been found in some corner or dark alleyway. This direct action from Vespero had most likely done much to prevent many of the still uncertain regiments to switch to Dolchetta's faction, not wanting to make themselves the target of men who considered shooting flies out of the air reasonable target practice.
The city was a tinderbox, with hidden street battles occurring every night, the different players making their moves to weaken others before things became bloody and dirty. So far Dolchetta seemed to be winning, with many a merchant prince finding themselves dead from a poisoned meal or some scrape they got somewhere during their days, that for some reason suddenly became infected.
Only Vespero's open declaration against the Dolchettan faction had kept the plate somewhat even, with the man himself virtually disappearing from the face of the world. No doubt to protect himself from Dolchetta's -or rather Lucrezzia's- poisons. An effective tactic he had to admit, as even his informants couldn't even hint to guess where the legendary crossbow man was.
Unfortunately his entrance had not gone unnoticed with the various powers that be. A man with his caravan who had been eating with him had suddenly collapsed convulsing and gasping for air, choking to death from his own swelling throat. And just this morning he had discovered a dart in his boot, covered in lethal poison that an unfortunate cat was so helpful to ascertain. Also somehow a bolt had found its way on the pillow of his room, just before he had gone to sleep.
Warnings, to make sure to not get involved. Announcements of what the consequences would be.
Honestly, they hadn't needed to make the effort as far as he was concerned, he'd stay as far away from that mess as possible. Not that he had that choice of course, as a swift message from his brother had more or less ordered him to make sure to see that the de Vela family was to profit from this chaos. There was also an unnecessary line telling him to keep using the Bianchi name, it was a fig leaf cover for trading and would keep more parties from snooping on him.
Sigh… he'd need to see if he could get himself some former members of Vespero's Vendetta as his bodyguard, they would know how to protect him against the man, if he paid them well enough. Not that he'd be hesitant to spend his money if his life was on the line, after all, all the coins in the world were useless when one found himself with a slit throat.
If he had just been careful and heard about Borgio's death before his arrival here, he'd have skipped Miragliano all together and went for one of the other city-states instead.
Suddenly a picture of a stunningly beautiful and voluptuous redhead passed through his head and he sighed again. He'd been distracted, not to mention that various merchant princes of what was "supposedly" Tilea's greatest city had spent a fair bit of effort to stop the news of Borgio's death from spreading, to curtail the swell of mercenaries and opportunists from arriving, eager to get employment and fame in the fighting to come. Not to protect the city from harm, of course, but because such men might very well join the opposing side.
Not that they had been blessed with any particular success in that regard. Mercenaries, even many of the infamous Dogs of war had been entering the city, coming from all over Tilea and beyond. Empire men, Ogres, Dwarfs, even some Dark Elves had appeared according to the rumor mill. He had his doubts about the last group, considering the well known High Elven quarter by the bay.
He had heard how just yesterday, the infamous long drong slayer pirates had entered the harbor, brought here by the aspect of a potential great doom and treasure undeniably waiting for any that would get involved in the approaching power struggle, to be claimed by those who came out victorious and alive.
Not that the alive part was all that much of a priority for the dwarven death seekers.
Two days ago Voland's famed riders galloped into the city. They were pretending to be a neutral party still, having talks with both Dolchetta´s and Vespero's factions. A ruse, as his informants had told him. Voland had only recently "left" the employee of Lucrezzia and was here most likely as a Parvonan patsy to aid the poison mistress's sister in the fights to come.
With so many mercenary bands being called to the city from the surrounding fortresses and towns under the control of the various opposing merchant princes, bandits, skaven and the less savory of the mercenary bands had been running rampant among the peasantry and poor living in the hinterlands of great Migraliano. That was until the Alcatani fellowship had descended from the green hills, falling on ratkin and banditry alike, honoring their reputation as the protectors of those that couldn't protect themselves.
Word of the street was, that they and Golfag´s Maneaters had fought a battle outside of the from the Ogre´s sacked village, Rodrigo retreating from Golfag´s brutes after he successfully had managed to steal the villagers from the Ogre´s hands before they could land in their cooking pots.
All in all Dolchetta seemed to be taking all opportunities to give her every advantage she could possibly reach for.
Braganza's besiegers for one had been held on a fourth somewhere about a week north of Migraliano. Dolchetta undoubtedly knew that they would join the factions that opposed her and had most likely bribed the mayor that was taking care of the bridge in question to stall that great military force and see if maybe some other merchant prince could take advantage and buy them off before they entered Migraliano proper.
Other, less powerful regiments that could be relied on to oppose Dolchetta were suddenly ambushed on the streets, found themselves in sudden combat with unusually aggressive skaven, orcs and even beastmen. One or two of such cases could be counted to be a coincidence, but at the rate they were happening? Dolchetta either had extraordinary luck or extraordinary allies.
To be honest, Emanuello wasn't sure which was worse for those that intended to fight her.
Already the opposing factions were seeking to gain the support of the populace and clergy, sponsoring great feasts, giving away aids and glorious masses in the great Temple of Myrmidia. It put the common people in a good mood and placated the gods, but he knew that this was just the calm before the storm. Soon blood would be flowing knee deep across the streets and alleyways, the great canals of the city would soon be bathed in red.
Yet, of all the mercenaries and groups that had entered migraliano, one stood out above them all. One that could decisively change the balance of power for one side or the other.
Arsanil, the Dragon lord, on top of his immense Dragon, the dreadful Deathfang, had descended on the city naught a week ago, just a day of the Besiegers inglourious demise.
Since then he had been resting in one of the few free spaces the cramped city had to offer, no one being brave -or rather foolish enough- to deny the Dragon lord the right to rest his beast in the city's park. Every faction in the city, small and large, had showered the Elf in gifts and offers of payment, knowing just how devastating he was, off the battles he and his dragon had won on their lonesome.
Miriagliano should know, given how often the non-humans had turned sure victories of the principality into bitter defeat, just by his arrival on the battlefield.
The proud Elf, famous for his pickiness in his payment, had rejected every single one, even a supposed seduction attempt from Dolchetta offering herself to him, a woman whose beauty was second only to her legendary sister told off like a common street whore. It was of course a coincidence that Arsanil was seen feeding Deathfang the remains of assassins just a day later.
It was to this Elf that he was traveling now, riding in his own personal boat, specifically for the canals of the city. In the middle he sat, beside him a jewel-encrusted box with gifts, ones hopefully exotic and exquisite enough to raise his interest and offer of employment.
To his left and right were armored body guards, handpicked by his brother to ensure his safety and of course loyalty, in case he got any stupid ideas. Not that he intended to do anything in that regard. Emanuello de Vela was many things, a coward, a party man who threw away way to much money, a whoremonger but he was not stupid.
People who crossed Tibaldus Marsarius de Vela did not tend to live long and he had no intention of joining that list of disappeared.
He did not seek out Arsanil out of any interest for the interests of the de vela banking clan or the power struggle in Migraliano however. No, his interests were simultaneously far more selfless and far pettier.
Not for the first or even tenth time he cursed that fool of a girl.
Black crag? What was she thinking!? Admittedly most of his information was hearsay and whatever mutterings he could pry out of the dwarfs, but that nonetheless painted a grim picture: a former dawi hold taken over by greenskins long ago, costing many lives both in its loss and the many attempts to reclaim it. The place was a fortress that was crawling with orcs and goblins and whatever other nasties the greenskins had, possibly quite literally. All the fighting men in Miragliano could reclaim it, perhaps.
Not that reclamation was even the goal. Erza fully intended to save the family of King Kazador, that were supposed to still live within the hell of a mountain.
Even in tobaro he had heard of the legendary story, or rather the legendary reward the dwarfen King had promised.
Half of the gold of the dwarfen hold. Millions of crowns, enough to make a homeless man equal to the greatest of merchant princes and to make a merchant prince supreme against all his rivals.
Entire armies of mercenaries and adventures had marched out to claim the grand reward, nobles and their retinues, witches and champions.
Not one had returned, be it in failure or success. All had been swallowed by that blasted mountain.
He could pay for an entire legion of mercenaries, spend the fortune of the vela banks in their entirety to hire the dogs of war and yet they would still fail all the same. What was needed here was more than that, it needed a grand distraction that could bait the orks away, while erza infiltrated Black crag in the meantime.
And he could only imagine one individual in Tilea who possessed that skill to even attempt such an action.
He just hoped this wasn't going to end with him in the belly of a dragon.
Gods, the things he was doing for that woman.
AN:
I wish you all a merry day. Hope you are enjoying this chapter from Emanuello´s perspective and what he´s been doing in the city. Plus the wonderfull mess that Borgio´s death left behind. As Always, criticism and comments are greatly welcome, as they help me improve my story.
Till the next chapter.
Chapter 19
- Pronouns
- He
Chapter 19
Standing at the edges of the lavish property, located where else but the most well maintained and isolated district of Miragliano, Emanuello groaned under his breath. The current resident of this property was his destination, but he was of two minds on the matter; he desperately needed his help, but there was also everything else about him.
High Elves, Asur during the uncommon periods he did business with them, were… prideful. As a Tilean merchant prince Emanuello knew the value of his pride, how it could affect his standing among his rivals and allies. But Elves took things far beyond reasonable; one wrong gesture, one uncouth comment, and a trader would be lucky to avoid a duel to the death, if not threatened to be killed on the spot. Oftentimes it wasn't clear exactly what Elves defined as rude, they rarely bothered to explain things to 'lesser' races.
In some ways Elves were similar to Dwarfs, they were both intensely dignified, long lived, and rarely forgiving transgressions. Not to mention they both looked down on Man. But while Dawi had their pride, they tended to be upfront when dealing with outsiders; not always fair, but strict and to the point. Whenever they weren't, dwarfs sequestered themselves in their Holds and left matters be. Elves acted as if the world owed them its very existence, which was made worse by an unpleasant habit of sailing close to shore and landing war parties.
Emanuello rubbed his brow. He was delaying the inevitable, he had to take the next step. With Erza busy helping Goric (oh he was in for an earful when the dawi heard about this) at the caravan and the market, he had plenty of time to get this done. So with reluctance he started walking, heading down the paved stone path towards the house.
Though house was underselling the property; it wasn't the largest even in this district, the neighbors a safe distance away were nicer to look at. It was still a large domicile with plenty of delicately tended foliage, he saw some scattered statues around as well which looked expensive to his appraising gaze. Its most unusual detail however was the roof, or lack thereof.
Instead of tiles or wood, there was a gaping hole in the top floor, big enough to drive a wagon through if it were ground level. If he didn't know the rumors he would wonder what it was for.
Going up to the front door, one festooned in weird script, he raised a hand to knock, only for a bellowing voice to shout, "Enter!"
Emanuello found the latch, hissing under his breath as he complied. The second he was in he saw the new owner had been busy with internal decoration; everything that wasn't a load bearing support was ripped away, clearing up room for a small alcove with a bed, and a huge clean nest in the center of the home. In the corner of his eye he saw both a lip over the roof hole to block rain, and oddly several carvings in the corner that looked like buildings.
Of course, his attention was occupied by the massive green dragon that lifted its head from its claws. Emanuello went still, shivering at the monster that growled at him; large teeth, narrowed slits of eyes that eyed a prospective meal, thick scaly hide which tall tales claimed could shrug off a cannonball, a long slender tounge that licked its chops, and did he mention the teeth? Its wings ruffled dismissively, its tail swishing in the air behind it, though at this distance it could reach out like a cat to a hapless mouse.
"Cease your staring human." A voice dripping with contempt made him snap over, discovering the master of this beast.
Narrow, angular features were a hallmark of Elves everywhere, and this one was no exception. Showing a couple scars on his slender yet muscular frame, Asarnil the Dragonlord rose from a crouch by the dragon's claws, setting down a brush and rag on a nearby table. Though he wore simple robes and tied his black hair behind him, he projected an air of haughtiness the most successful merchant princes could struggle to rival.
"I said, cease your staring." Asarnil warned, halting a couple body's lengths away, as if he was a leper.
Emanuello composed himself. "Mighty Asarnil of Ulthuan, I come before you requesting your services."
"Yes, why else would humans visit?" He dismissed his greeting with a contemptuous wave. "Get on with it, my time is not your plaything."
Bringing around the sack he carried on a strap, Emanuello waited for Asarnil to gesture at an open table. Using the care he reserved for impressing especially important guests, he laid out a selection of goods in orderly rows, as much for their value as for the Elf. Painstakingly crafted dishes with rare (and expensive!) food, a couple bottles of rare wine, and a double handful of the best jewels in his collection, sorted twice over for the finest stones he owned. A couple were even from the dwarfs, though if they knew where he was taking them, they would've never sold him them.
The goods he backed away from were worth a small fortune, he could pay for an entire caravan with this. All of it was for this man, who approached the table with equal levels of grace and disdain.
"Gifts for my services." He stated, picking up the wine first.
"Of course. There is also a large reward of gold waiting, I did not bring it with me. I am aware of your reputation." Emanuello said with as much respect as he could muster; for all of Asarnil's traits, the elf was strangely not keen on monetary reward. Hearsay gave him the impression he was after renown more than wealth, which this time played to Emanuello's favor.
Asarnil made a big show of inspecting each and every item, from the wine to each jewel. Despite his impatience earlier he sure took his sweet time; Emanuello had no choice but to stand and wait. Even if things were less dire a low growl from the dragon, staring at him with unmistakable interest, would keep him rooted in place.
Finishing with the food, Asarnil showed some surprise when he turned around. "This is Caledorian lobster, mixed with herbs from Saphery. How did you get this?"
"With great difficulty." Emanuello smiled, leaving out the exorbitant cost.
Popping a cork, Asarnil took a whiff of the wine, and then a small drink. "This is an old vintage, genuine Ulthuan. From the Empire, I presume?"
"That was actually acquired directly from here in Miragliano." He stifled a wince upon remembering the price.
"And these jewels, quite well made." He held up one to the light, taking a bite out of the food. "This is… this is better than anything I've had in this city after I helped conquer it. The taste of home is so sweet." For a second, Asarnil showed a genuine smile.
Emanuello flinched when Asarnil dropped the plate without warning, the precious ceramic shattering on the floor.
"Back in Ulthuan, this food wouldn't be fit for the lowest beggar. It might be suitable for dog food." Whatever goodwill he showed had vanished; Emanuello felt a stab of fear at his narrowing brow.
"The wine is awful as well, fit for the lowest of commoners. As expected of traders selling directly to humans. And these jewels." He swept them away, Emanuello barely stopping himself from trying to catch any. All save one, a large ruby he pinched between two fingers. "This here. You thought I wouldn't recognize the cuts? Dawi craftsmanship is far better than any human, you should know better than to try to bribe me with those bearded drunkard's trash." He concluded with a toss towards the door.
Emanuello hissed through gritted teeth. "I meant no disrespect-"
"Yet you disrespected me anyway. The quality of these gifts is far worse than the other fools vying for my attention, and the quantity is downright insulting." Asarnil huffed, crossing his arms. "Others want my help for this spat of a civil war. What side are you trying to bribe me into joining?"
His tone was mocking, jeering even, yet he phrased it as a question; Emanuello's hopes flared, he still had a chance to salvage the situation. His only option was to prey on his curious aspect for a sellsword.
"None actually. I wished to hire you for a dangerous mission." He started.
The dragon growled, stopping when Asarnil raised a hand. "Dangerous for you."
"And yourself." Discarding his speech, Emanuello got to the point. "I want you to join a rescue mission to the Black Crag."
For a long minute, Asarnil was silent. He didn't move save for a slight rise and fall of his breathing, staring at him as if he was peering into his soul. Even the dragon glanced at him askance, its nostrils flaring.
A thin, vicious grin cracked his expression. "Ah, hah. Rescuing dawi royalty. I almost want to accept just out of spite, to see those stunted folk have to give up half their precious wealth to an Asur. It would be the most hilarious thing I've seen this century."
"The reward would be-"
"I refuse." Asarnil interrupted him, the smile gone. "Spite isn't enough motivation to go into an orc infested tunnel. Much less bring Deathfang there. Congratulations human, you got me to laugh. Now get out."
"But-" Emanuello raised a hand, and in the time he needed to blink there was a drawn dagger in Asarnil's hand.
"Out." He growled.
Fists clenching, Emanuello turned to leave. He was kicking himself for believing Asarnil would actually do it, costing him a lot of money and some important favors for nothing. His last hope were the Maneaters, ogres were as likely to eat him as agree, but a good fight and all the bodies would be enough to sway the brutes-
A scaly tail slammed into the floor right in front of Emanuello, jerking him back with a cry. Whipping around, he backed away in terror as the dragon leaned its maw closer to him; he hit the monster's tail, left with nowhere to run. The dragon came close enough to touch, its circular eyes on his quaking form.
"Deathfang, what are you doing?" Asarnil demanded.
The dragon widened its nostrils, taking several loud whiffs of Emanuello as he broke out in a cold sweat. Whatever it was after, it drew back to level a very humanlike look of surprise.
"What is it?" Asarnil said in confusion; the dragon said nothing, just flicked its ears, and nodded its snout towards him. Whatever that meant, the elf's eyes widened. "What? Another dragon? You met another dragon."
"I did?" Emanuello stared blankly, right as his brow twitched; he was no expert on magic, but with whatever strange magic she wielded-
The dragon brought its claws down on the floor, startling him. He was wide open for Asarnil to stride up to him, impossibly fast and with a steely grip snatching his shirt.
"Take us to the dragon."
"Us?" Emanuello flicked his terror stricken eyes to the monster glaring at him.
"I will not repeat myself." Asarnil brought up the dagger, not pressing it against his skin. Yet.
A minute later and Emanuello was shoved out the door, Asarnil grabbing some armor and a sword to push him along; overhead Deathfang crawled out of its roost to land on the lawn, crushing some flowers underfoot. Emanuello had an elbow driven into his back, pushing him along.
"I should warn you-" he cringed at the townsfolk screaming and running away, he doubted the armed Elf had anything to do with it.
"Dragon, now." Asarnil was quite insistent, shoving him whenever he thought Emanuello wasn't moving fast enough. He didn't have to do that much, the lumbering dragon a few paces behind him was motivation enough.
His luck diminished, because Emanuello had a long walk to the market district where he left his caravan. A long, long trek with an impatient Elf and a dragon, who apparently didn't want to fly. Not that it would keep people from panicking, but it would cut down on time.
When he saw his wagons, there were shouts of his guards, and he spotted them immediately going into defensive positions. They and the dwarfs, grabbing weapons at the monster at his back. Amending that to the Miragliano guards took a glance, spotting a lot of armed pikemen moving up to fight.
Groaning, Emanuello waved an arm overhead. "Its alright!" He lied, yet waved anyway. "Its, ah, business!"
Behind him Asarnil growled, but that hardly mattered when Deathfang tromped past them, rattling the ground underfoot towards the caravan. Shouts rose in spite of his call, he couldn't imagine why.
"If they hurt him, all of you will die." Asarnil said. It didn't sound so much as a warning or threat as a statement of fact.
The dragon halted, almost bowling them over when it's tail swished. The reason was the same as how he got into this mess, ended up in this powder keg of a city; hopping on top of a wagon with a sword in hand, Erza took up a defensive stance in response to the creature, who itself raised its head.
Emanuello and Asarnil stopped, the former anxiously watching as Deathfang slowly approached Erza, non threateningly leaning towards her; like him it sniffed her, taking deep gulps of her scent. Conflict was a hairsbreadth from erupting when it lurched back, growling almost like it grunted in surprise.
The grip on him loosened, Asarnil jogging over as Erza hopped off the wagon, Emanuello in hot pursuit. He caught a glimpse of Goric and his expression of shock, but ignored him for a moment; Asarnil halted to gape at Erza, and she raised a brow. He glanced at Deathfang, who nodded its snout at her.
"But, how? You're not a dragon. Who are you human?" Asarnil snapped.
"I am Erza Scarlet, a wizard of Fairy Tail." Her prompt answer caused Emanuello to groan, catching the elf doing a double take.
"Why do you smell like a dragon?" He frowned, Deathfang arching lower as if to hear better.
Erza's expression flickered. "My mother was a dragon. I spent over three hundred years in her womb, before I was born. She was a vile woman."
Asarnil and Deathfang exchanged a confused look. "You… your mother was a dragon."
Emanuello cleared his throat. "You see, Lady Scarlet-"
A rather large claw blocked his path, making him slump.
Asarnil frowned, but instead of jeering or trying to stab her, the Elf unexpectedly sheathed his dagger. "I… I apologize. I had assumed you were lying."
Blinking, Emanuello rubbed his eyes. This wasn't happening, was it?
"About what? Your companion must be keen to detect that part of me though." She spared a glance at Deathfang, putting away her own sword.
"Dragons recognize each other, no matter the land or time. You… don't know how to shapeshift?" Asarnil asked carefully.
"No. A friend of mine is proficient, but I could never get it to work." Erza shook her head with some regret.
"That is…" unless Emanuello was hallucinating, a tear was actually running down the High Elf's cheek, his voice suddenly shaking. "To never know your heritage, to never be able to fly, its… this has to be the most tragic thing I've ever heard. Ulthuan's dragons are already rare, there's less every decade, the dwindling of magic affecting them more than any other race." He reached to lay a hand on Deathfang's scales, rubbing them with gentleness he didn't bother to show Emanuello. "I had hoped I could one day return to my homeland, not just for my sake, but so my friend could see his home as well."
"Perhaps I could help you." Erza offered, ignoring Emanuello's face twisting up.
"No, this is my journey." Asarnil shook his head. "Perhaps we-"
"Lady Scarlet is going to the Black Crag." Emanuello interrupted, seizing the opportunity.
He did a double take again, turning his wide eyes towards her, glossing over his move. "You?"
"Yes. Goric Thunderpeak is fulfilling his clan's oath, I have to help him and his ancestral home." Erza replied, sending the elderly dwarf a soft look he didn't acknowledge, being too busy glaring at Asarnil.
"Then…" he stopped when Deathfang approached Erza again, laying down so its jaw scraped off the ground; to the surprise of everyone present, Emanuello noting Asarnil especially, the dragon let Erza lay a hand on its snout. It didn't bite off her limb, in fact it almost seemed to nuzzle at her hold.
There was a curious tingle in the air, lasting seconds. Whatever it was, Erza flashed something across her expression.
"Lady Scarlet, I will accompany you on your quest." Asarnil did something Emanuello had never seen a High Elf do to an outsider: he bowed to her.
"Thank you. Both of you." She sent Deathfang a smile, which the dragon seemed to appreciate.
AN:
Thank you @Hapless Anon. All the credit goes to him, he did most of this
Standing at the edges of the lavish property, located where else but the most well maintained and isolated district of Miragliano, Emanuello groaned under his breath. The current resident of this property was his destination, but he was of two minds on the matter; he desperately needed his help, but there was also everything else about him.
High Elves, Asur during the uncommon periods he did business with them, were… prideful. As a Tilean merchant prince Emanuello knew the value of his pride, how it could affect his standing among his rivals and allies. But Elves took things far beyond reasonable; one wrong gesture, one uncouth comment, and a trader would be lucky to avoid a duel to the death, if not threatened to be killed on the spot. Oftentimes it wasn't clear exactly what Elves defined as rude, they rarely bothered to explain things to 'lesser' races.
In some ways Elves were similar to Dwarfs, they were both intensely dignified, long lived, and rarely forgiving transgressions. Not to mention they both looked down on Man. But while Dawi had their pride, they tended to be upfront when dealing with outsiders; not always fair, but strict and to the point. Whenever they weren't, dwarfs sequestered themselves in their Holds and left matters be. Elves acted as if the world owed them its very existence, which was made worse by an unpleasant habit of sailing close to shore and landing war parties.
Emanuello rubbed his brow. He was delaying the inevitable, he had to take the next step. With Erza busy helping Goric (oh he was in for an earful when the dawi heard about this) at the caravan and the market, he had plenty of time to get this done. So with reluctance he started walking, heading down the paved stone path towards the house.
Though house was underselling the property; it wasn't the largest even in this district, the neighbors a safe distance away were nicer to look at. It was still a large domicile with plenty of delicately tended foliage, he saw some scattered statues around as well which looked expensive to his appraising gaze. Its most unusual detail however was the roof, or lack thereof.
Instead of tiles or wood, there was a gaping hole in the top floor, big enough to drive a wagon through if it were ground level. If he didn't know the rumors he would wonder what it was for.
Going up to the front door, one festooned in weird script, he raised a hand to knock, only for a bellowing voice to shout, "Enter!"
Emanuello found the latch, hissing under his breath as he complied. The second he was in he saw the new owner had been busy with internal decoration; everything that wasn't a load bearing support was ripped away, clearing up room for a small alcove with a bed, and a huge clean nest in the center of the home. In the corner of his eye he saw both a lip over the roof hole to block rain, and oddly several carvings in the corner that looked like buildings.
Of course, his attention was occupied by the massive green dragon that lifted its head from its claws. Emanuello went still, shivering at the monster that growled at him; large teeth, narrowed slits of eyes that eyed a prospective meal, thick scaly hide which tall tales claimed could shrug off a cannonball, a long slender tounge that licked its chops, and did he mention the teeth? Its wings ruffled dismissively, its tail swishing in the air behind it, though at this distance it could reach out like a cat to a hapless mouse.
"Cease your staring human." A voice dripping with contempt made him snap over, discovering the master of this beast.
Narrow, angular features were a hallmark of Elves everywhere, and this one was no exception. Showing a couple scars on his slender yet muscular frame, Asarnil the Dragonlord rose from a crouch by the dragon's claws, setting down a brush and rag on a nearby table. Though he wore simple robes and tied his black hair behind him, he projected an air of haughtiness the most successful merchant princes could struggle to rival.
"I said, cease your staring." Asarnil warned, halting a couple body's lengths away, as if he was a leper.
Emanuello composed himself. "Mighty Asarnil of Ulthuan, I come before you requesting your services."
"Yes, why else would humans visit?" He dismissed his greeting with a contemptuous wave. "Get on with it, my time is not your plaything."
Bringing around the sack he carried on a strap, Emanuello waited for Asarnil to gesture at an open table. Using the care he reserved for impressing especially important guests, he laid out a selection of goods in orderly rows, as much for their value as for the Elf. Painstakingly crafted dishes with rare (and expensive!) food, a couple bottles of rare wine, and a double handful of the best jewels in his collection, sorted twice over for the finest stones he owned. A couple were even from the dwarfs, though if they knew where he was taking them, they would've never sold him them.
The goods he backed away from were worth a small fortune, he could pay for an entire caravan with this. All of it was for this man, who approached the table with equal levels of grace and disdain.
"Gifts for my services." He stated, picking up the wine first.
"Of course. There is also a large reward of gold waiting, I did not bring it with me. I am aware of your reputation." Emanuello said with as much respect as he could muster; for all of Asarnil's traits, the elf was strangely not keen on monetary reward. Hearsay gave him the impression he was after renown more than wealth, which this time played to Emanuello's favor.
Asarnil made a big show of inspecting each and every item, from the wine to each jewel. Despite his impatience earlier he sure took his sweet time; Emanuello had no choice but to stand and wait. Even if things were less dire a low growl from the dragon, staring at him with unmistakable interest, would keep him rooted in place.
Finishing with the food, Asarnil showed some surprise when he turned around. "This is Caledorian lobster, mixed with herbs from Saphery. How did you get this?"
"With great difficulty." Emanuello smiled, leaving out the exorbitant cost.
Popping a cork, Asarnil took a whiff of the wine, and then a small drink. "This is an old vintage, genuine Ulthuan. From the Empire, I presume?"
"That was actually acquired directly from here in Miragliano." He stifled a wince upon remembering the price.
"And these jewels, quite well made." He held up one to the light, taking a bite out of the food. "This is… this is better than anything I've had in this city after I helped conquer it. The taste of home is so sweet." For a second, Asarnil showed a genuine smile.
Emanuello flinched when Asarnil dropped the plate without warning, the precious ceramic shattering on the floor.
"Back in Ulthuan, this food wouldn't be fit for the lowest beggar. It might be suitable for dog food." Whatever goodwill he showed had vanished; Emanuello felt a stab of fear at his narrowing brow.
"The wine is awful as well, fit for the lowest of commoners. As expected of traders selling directly to humans. And these jewels." He swept them away, Emanuello barely stopping himself from trying to catch any. All save one, a large ruby he pinched between two fingers. "This here. You thought I wouldn't recognize the cuts? Dawi craftsmanship is far better than any human, you should know better than to try to bribe me with those bearded drunkard's trash." He concluded with a toss towards the door.
Emanuello hissed through gritted teeth. "I meant no disrespect-"
"Yet you disrespected me anyway. The quality of these gifts is far worse than the other fools vying for my attention, and the quantity is downright insulting." Asarnil huffed, crossing his arms. "Others want my help for this spat of a civil war. What side are you trying to bribe me into joining?"
His tone was mocking, jeering even, yet he phrased it as a question; Emanuello's hopes flared, he still had a chance to salvage the situation. His only option was to prey on his curious aspect for a sellsword.
"None actually. I wished to hire you for a dangerous mission." He started.
The dragon growled, stopping when Asarnil raised a hand. "Dangerous for you."
"And yourself." Discarding his speech, Emanuello got to the point. "I want you to join a rescue mission to the Black Crag."
For a long minute, Asarnil was silent. He didn't move save for a slight rise and fall of his breathing, staring at him as if he was peering into his soul. Even the dragon glanced at him askance, its nostrils flaring.
A thin, vicious grin cracked his expression. "Ah, hah. Rescuing dawi royalty. I almost want to accept just out of spite, to see those stunted folk have to give up half their precious wealth to an Asur. It would be the most hilarious thing I've seen this century."
"The reward would be-"
"I refuse." Asarnil interrupted him, the smile gone. "Spite isn't enough motivation to go into an orc infested tunnel. Much less bring Deathfang there. Congratulations human, you got me to laugh. Now get out."
"But-" Emanuello raised a hand, and in the time he needed to blink there was a drawn dagger in Asarnil's hand.
"Out." He growled.
Fists clenching, Emanuello turned to leave. He was kicking himself for believing Asarnil would actually do it, costing him a lot of money and some important favors for nothing. His last hope were the Maneaters, ogres were as likely to eat him as agree, but a good fight and all the bodies would be enough to sway the brutes-
A scaly tail slammed into the floor right in front of Emanuello, jerking him back with a cry. Whipping around, he backed away in terror as the dragon leaned its maw closer to him; he hit the monster's tail, left with nowhere to run. The dragon came close enough to touch, its circular eyes on his quaking form.
"Deathfang, what are you doing?" Asarnil demanded.
The dragon widened its nostrils, taking several loud whiffs of Emanuello as he broke out in a cold sweat. Whatever it was after, it drew back to level a very humanlike look of surprise.
"What is it?" Asarnil said in confusion; the dragon said nothing, just flicked its ears, and nodded its snout towards him. Whatever that meant, the elf's eyes widened. "What? Another dragon? You met another dragon."
"I did?" Emanuello stared blankly, right as his brow twitched; he was no expert on magic, but with whatever strange magic she wielded-
The dragon brought its claws down on the floor, startling him. He was wide open for Asarnil to stride up to him, impossibly fast and with a steely grip snatching his shirt.
"Take us to the dragon."
"Us?" Emanuello flicked his terror stricken eyes to the monster glaring at him.
"I will not repeat myself." Asarnil brought up the dagger, not pressing it against his skin. Yet.
A minute later and Emanuello was shoved out the door, Asarnil grabbing some armor and a sword to push him along; overhead Deathfang crawled out of its roost to land on the lawn, crushing some flowers underfoot. Emanuello had an elbow driven into his back, pushing him along.
"I should warn you-" he cringed at the townsfolk screaming and running away, he doubted the armed Elf had anything to do with it.
"Dragon, now." Asarnil was quite insistent, shoving him whenever he thought Emanuello wasn't moving fast enough. He didn't have to do that much, the lumbering dragon a few paces behind him was motivation enough.
His luck diminished, because Emanuello had a long walk to the market district where he left his caravan. A long, long trek with an impatient Elf and a dragon, who apparently didn't want to fly. Not that it would keep people from panicking, but it would cut down on time.
When he saw his wagons, there were shouts of his guards, and he spotted them immediately going into defensive positions. They and the dwarfs, grabbing weapons at the monster at his back. Amending that to the Miragliano guards took a glance, spotting a lot of armed pikemen moving up to fight.
Groaning, Emanuello waved an arm overhead. "Its alright!" He lied, yet waved anyway. "Its, ah, business!"
Behind him Asarnil growled, but that hardly mattered when Deathfang tromped past them, rattling the ground underfoot towards the caravan. Shouts rose in spite of his call, he couldn't imagine why.
"If they hurt him, all of you will die." Asarnil said. It didn't sound so much as a warning or threat as a statement of fact.
The dragon halted, almost bowling them over when it's tail swished. The reason was the same as how he got into this mess, ended up in this powder keg of a city; hopping on top of a wagon with a sword in hand, Erza took up a defensive stance in response to the creature, who itself raised its head.
Emanuello and Asarnil stopped, the former anxiously watching as Deathfang slowly approached Erza, non threateningly leaning towards her; like him it sniffed her, taking deep gulps of her scent. Conflict was a hairsbreadth from erupting when it lurched back, growling almost like it grunted in surprise.
The grip on him loosened, Asarnil jogging over as Erza hopped off the wagon, Emanuello in hot pursuit. He caught a glimpse of Goric and his expression of shock, but ignored him for a moment; Asarnil halted to gape at Erza, and she raised a brow. He glanced at Deathfang, who nodded its snout at her.
"But, how? You're not a dragon. Who are you human?" Asarnil snapped.
"I am Erza Scarlet, a wizard of Fairy Tail." Her prompt answer caused Emanuello to groan, catching the elf doing a double take.
"Why do you smell like a dragon?" He frowned, Deathfang arching lower as if to hear better.
Erza's expression flickered. "My mother was a dragon. I spent over three hundred years in her womb, before I was born. She was a vile woman."
Asarnil and Deathfang exchanged a confused look. "You… your mother was a dragon."
Emanuello cleared his throat. "You see, Lady Scarlet-"
A rather large claw blocked his path, making him slump.
Asarnil frowned, but instead of jeering or trying to stab her, the Elf unexpectedly sheathed his dagger. "I… I apologize. I had assumed you were lying."
Blinking, Emanuello rubbed his eyes. This wasn't happening, was it?
"About what? Your companion must be keen to detect that part of me though." She spared a glance at Deathfang, putting away her own sword.
"Dragons recognize each other, no matter the land or time. You… don't know how to shapeshift?" Asarnil asked carefully.
"No. A friend of mine is proficient, but I could never get it to work." Erza shook her head with some regret.
"That is…" unless Emanuello was hallucinating, a tear was actually running down the High Elf's cheek, his voice suddenly shaking. "To never know your heritage, to never be able to fly, its… this has to be the most tragic thing I've ever heard. Ulthuan's dragons are already rare, there's less every decade, the dwindling of magic affecting them more than any other race." He reached to lay a hand on Deathfang's scales, rubbing them with gentleness he didn't bother to show Emanuello. "I had hoped I could one day return to my homeland, not just for my sake, but so my friend could see his home as well."
"Perhaps I could help you." Erza offered, ignoring Emanuello's face twisting up.
"No, this is my journey." Asarnil shook his head. "Perhaps we-"
"Lady Scarlet is going to the Black Crag." Emanuello interrupted, seizing the opportunity.
He did a double take again, turning his wide eyes towards her, glossing over his move. "You?"
"Yes. Goric Thunderpeak is fulfilling his clan's oath, I have to help him and his ancestral home." Erza replied, sending the elderly dwarf a soft look he didn't acknowledge, being too busy glaring at Asarnil.
"Then…" he stopped when Deathfang approached Erza again, laying down so its jaw scraped off the ground; to the surprise of everyone present, Emanuello noting Asarnil especially, the dragon let Erza lay a hand on its snout. It didn't bite off her limb, in fact it almost seemed to nuzzle at her hold.
There was a curious tingle in the air, lasting seconds. Whatever it was, Erza flashed something across her expression.
"Lady Scarlet, I will accompany you on your quest." Asarnil did something Emanuello had never seen a High Elf do to an outsider: he bowed to her.
"Thank you. Both of you." She sent Deathfang a smile, which the dragon seemed to appreciate.
AN:
Thank you @Hapless Anon. All the credit goes to him, he did most of this
jwolfe_beta
Semi Genre-Savvy Overlord
- Location
- Canada
Now now, I'm sure at least some of Black Craig/Karak Drazh will still be intact by the end of the battle.
Neruz
Rogue Spiderbanana
- Location
- The Land of Fire and Poison
Entire legions of beards will bristle in furious consternation when they hear that an exiled Dragon Lord is part of the rescue mission.
jwolfe_beta
Semi Genre-Savvy Overlord
- Location
- Canada
Which is at least 25% of the reason Asarnil is doing this in the first place.
I highly doubt that she's going to figure out shapeshifting without multiple exterior factors/aids. Firstly because Irene didn't manage to turn back into a human before having Erza. It was Zeref that enchanted her into a dragon-in-a-human-suit. Means that Erza possibly still has that magical effect of 'be human' on her. Doesn't help that while Erza is capable of some magics, the ones she's good at aren't that at all similar to magics that would include transforming youself into something else.
Neruz
Rogue Spiderbanana
- Location
- The Land of Fire and Poison
Erza's dragon status is... unclear and unexplained, which isn't surprising given that the author has explicitly stated that he never planned the story and just winged it as he went along. Irene was human, and so was her husband, and Erza was concieved between them while they were both humans. But Irene did became a Dragon Slayer before getting pregnant and then later went full dragon form while Erza was still unborn. Becoming a dragon apparently prevented Irene from birthing Erza, so Erza just sort of stayed inside her now-dragon mother for a few centuries until Zeref found her and enchanted her back into human form in an instant because Zeref is bullshit.
What does this make Erza? Good question. The centuries she spent inside a dragon are no doubt responsible for her absurd physical and magical abilities, but whether that makes her a dragon enchanted into human form like her mother or a human-shaped dragon or something else is unclear.
I wouldn't expect Erza to learn how to shapeshift though; if she is truly a dragon then her human form is enforced by Zeref's magic, literally the most powerful mage in the entire Fairy Tail setting bar none.
Teclis or the Toadbros might be able to break Zeref's magic if they put their backs into it, but aside from them the only entities I'd expect to have the necessary power to even scratch a Zeref-brand spell would be the Ruinous Powers and maybe Nagash, neither of which are a good idea.
Alternately, Erza is a dragon that is naturally shaped like a human, in which case there is nothing for her to transform into in the first place.
What does this make Erza? Good question. The centuries she spent inside a dragon are no doubt responsible for her absurd physical and magical abilities, but whether that makes her a dragon enchanted into human form like her mother or a human-shaped dragon or something else is unclear.
I wouldn't expect Erza to learn how to shapeshift though; if she is truly a dragon then her human form is enforced by Zeref's magic, literally the most powerful mage in the entire Fairy Tail setting bar none.
Teclis or the Toadbros might be able to break Zeref's magic if they put their backs into it, but aside from them the only entities I'd expect to have the necessary power to even scratch a Zeref-brand spell would be the Ruinous Powers and maybe Nagash, neither of which are a good idea.
Alternately, Erza is a dragon that is naturally shaped like a human, in which case there is nothing for her to transform into in the first place.
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Chapter 20
- Pronouns
- He
Chapter 20
Erza took in a final sip of tea as she observed who was sitting before her. Well "sitting" might be the wrong word. Laying down and not trying to crush her surroundings was a better one.
She sipped again, careful that she never looked away from these large pupils staring directly into her eyes, each easily as large as her hand. The tea was good. Emanuello had put an entire spoon of sugar in it. It was very calming.
Still, for some reason her heart would not stop pounding? Oh what could be the reason for it? She looked at the eyes in front of her and for a moment she imagined another creature being there. A dark monste sweeping away all the magic, all the channeled camaraderie of her family, her guild, Fairy Tail.
Or seven titans of flesh, scale and magic might, rampaging through Crocus, all the magic and martial power of the continent arrayed against them, and yet not even doing so much as to scratch them.
Or one with a voice and body so terribly similar to her own, a cruel clint in her eyes, with claws that threw her around like a toy. That shattered her body with a single swipe of her claws, with the ease one might break a stick over one's knees.
She took another sip, numbly noting the liquid was bubbling within her cup. Strange, it wasn't even all that hot. It took her a couple moments to find the reason: Scarlet red light was emanating from her every pore, rending the ground and the air around her in its potency.
Oh dear, that was embarrassing. It had been a very long while since she hadn´t been able to properly control her own magic power any more. She quickly tried to control herself again but it was unusually difficult. Also her breathing was weirdly accelerated, coming and going in fast gulps that didn't seem to take in enough air.
Yeah, this entire situation was truly strange.
"You do not need to be afraid of me."
Erza did not yell out an "Eepp!" and she didn't jump away, slipping on the ground and falling on her butt in the process when the Dragon suddenly spoke. Somehow, for some reason that was not quite clear to Erza however, she found that she had drenched herself in tea and the cup was broken on the ground.
She also didn't frown and glare at the big reptile beforehand, very clearly chuckling as she did not stand up again and dust the dirt off her rump.
Faintly noticed at the side was some mule screaming, and she could hear Grimaldi curse. How the Priest had managed to get the animal he was always running around with to remain this close - meaning on the other end of the clearing- to a dragon, she didn't know.
"I do not intend to harm you." The voice of the dragon was rough, hard but still had somewhat of a melodic accent to it. Deathfang was probably unused to talking in Tilean, but still, it sounded ill-fitting to come out of that immense, fang-filled maw. He almost sounded gentle. After a couple moments -which involved her sending a glance over to Grimaldi, Goric, Emanuello and his surprisingly emotionless guards- he snarled and shook his head. "Neither will I lay a claw on your companions. Much too small and thin! Too much bone, too little flesh and fat." He let out a little spurt of flame out of his nostrils, itself hot and bright enough to lighten the park up as if it was the middle of the day and not sunrise. "Especially the dwarf. Would be like licking scraps out of a can!"
She couldn't help but think that the Dragon found the entire situation mightily amusing, and for a moment she considered decking it in the snout before discarding the thought. No sense to start a fight she might very lose no matter how …. vexing he was being.
Deathfang for his part only chuckled again - a terrifying noise that came out as a rumble, not unlike an earthquake- not seemingly intimidated in the least by the Titania's death stares.
"So, what exactly was so important that required you to stare at me for an hour?" She began, glancing again at her companions, or more precisely, to Goric who was loudly grumbling at Arsanil, undoubtedly having heard Deathfang's joke. Even from here she could see the Dragonlord's smirk.
"I was evaluating the effect the winds of magic had on you." He shook his immense head in apparent disgust. "Poor term that it is."
The winds of magic? Was that the local ethernano equivalent? She had certainly noticed her body trying to make use of it like it would regular magic particles, but for some reason she found it to be less than effective.
Not to mention that at points it would leave her fine and at others it made her feel sick or give her a headache. She had been meaning to find a mage of this world to talk about this oddity, but so far didn't have the opportunity for that. Unfortunately it seemed that mages were far rarer in these lands than they were home.
The dragon just laughed more when she told him this. "You don't need to search for any of these fools to tell you what you know."
He rose up to flex his wings a little, the resulting mini tornado tearing off leaves from all the surrounding trees, and stripping many nearby buildings of their roof tiles. The dragon didn't seem to care as he sat himself down in front of her, resting his bulk on his front legs, not unlike a cat now that she thought about it.
"My kin has taught the Asur on all matters of magic long before the humans around here had even crawled out of their caves. You will find myself a more knowledgeable teacher than any of them." There was an audible pride under his words. "Of course in return, you will allow me the answers to some of my very own questions."
It was not a request, that was clear even to her. Slowly she thought about, evaluating if the Dragon might attempt to trick her before rejecting that assumption. It had no need to. For that reason she sat down after stretching her legs, getting to a comfortable spot.
"Very Well."
"Magic is not native to this world. It flows from a dark realm, adjacent to this plane of existence. That place is known as the Realm of Chaos, that is all I will tell you for now." Deathfang evaded the explanation despite her raised brow. "From that place magic flows over this world, affecting all that it touches. There are many smaller rents in existence, but I know of only two permanent places: the polar gates. One is far to the north, beyond the Empire lands, touching the place known as Norsca."
"Have you ever been there?" Erza asked. The dragon shook its head, rather quickly she noted.
"No. Never shall I visit that land, those who go there will be corrupted by its influence. We dragons may be resistant, but once it has a hold on your soul… I am getting ahead of myself." Deathfang composed himself, ruffling his wings. "From there magic flows into the world, becoming more stable the further it gets from the poles. Relatively speaking." He made a growl strongly reminiscent of a cleared throat
"What does that mean?" Erza didn't like that sound, not one bit.
Deathfang shot her a bemused look, she assumed it was with the way he peered down at her. "Have you ever seen a wizard draw so much power that they explode? Literally go up like a broken cannon? Or transform into a sack of mutated meat screaming in pain to the point of insanity?"
Erza grimaced, idly aware of Goric muttering something to Asarnil that had him scowl. "I know of wizards who can inflict things like that back home, typically dark wizards. Many tend to simply kill outright."
She thought of the ones who didn't. Wizards who had other ideas of what to do to their foes, or captives, or their own comrades if the need arose. Her fists clenched; in their mindless lust for power those fools damned themselves, taking so many innocent lives with them.
"So even from your home, magic can be misused. Unfortunate." Deathfang nodded in sympathy.
"Unfortunate indeed. Though I am not aware of regular magic users suffering such drawbacks." Erza said, crossing her legs, deep in thought. The existence of Gods were nothing unusual, she knew of similar beings back in earthland, but even Chronos hadn´t been anywhere as terrible as these beings. It… made sense that she had trouble making use of the local magic compared to home.
"Still, your magic lacks the touch, the taint of them." Fascination was blazing in his eyes. "Young hatchling, may I have the honor of tasting said power? I… know only the stories of the oldest of my kin on how the Aethyr used to be before their arrival." There was a sense of trepidation in his voice. Of respect, excitement and awe but also hesitancy and even a little fear. For a moment the immense creature looked less like the force of nature it was and more like a young boy, discovering fire for the first time, seeking it´s warmth but also fearing it´s burn.
"How do I-?" "Just put your hand on my snout and release your magic, like you have done before."
Slowly, almost hesitantly, she stood up and walked forward, closer to the monster that could swallow a human with just a single bite. Deathfang for his part remained perfectly still, doing his best to not scare her, though it was obvious how much he was looking forward to this.
The first thing she noticed when she put her hand on it´s scales was that it was hot. She had felt the same thing the first time she had touched him, but now it was far more intense and more than that…. she could sense the reason behind it.
Through his vines and bones, through his every cell, magic flowed, like a torrent of grand and great might. Every of his movements, every of his acts, was fuelled by it, power harnessed and concentrated to such an absurd degree, she could hardly imagine the devastation the old drake could cause if he released it. Simultaneously she could feel just how easy that release would be with just a single exhalation.
It would be not much unlike a blast of a jupiter cannon. She knew she could survive it, but how many or her companions could? How much of this city would be destroyed?
Truly, it was no wonder everyone sought his and arsanils assistance in the fights to come.
She closed her eyes and concentrated on her magic for a moment, feeling the huge well of ethernano inside her, powering not unlike the Dragon before her. She had heard and seen how super powerful mages like Gildarts could simply push out their ethernano, creating a tornado of light that covered all their surroundings, pressing all that were not them to the ground, even the strongest of opponents barely being able to stand.
Would she be able to do the same? Breathing in once she grabbed after her internal reserves, an imaginary hand pushing in the blazing sun that was her core. And then, after one last moment of hesitation, she pushed.
From her eyes, her mouth, her ears, from her skin, from every single hole and opening in her body red light burst, no detonated out. With the force of a magic bomb going off. The place, the ground, the dirt, the surrounding trees, all where she and Deathfang had been standing, it ceased to exist.
From the edge of her eyes, through the ultra dense red orb that engulfed the two of them now, she could see how Arsanil, his superhuman reflexes exploding into action, kicking Goring behind a small ridge of earth and trees, while Grabbing Emanuello and Grimaldi and pushing them to the ground, his body and some kind of hot glowing magic artifact shielding them from the shockwave that reached them.
The body guards that had accompanied Emanullo weren't as lucky, being hurdled against nearby trees and rocks, only their heavy armor preventing the worst.
Deathfang forever didn´t shrug off the devastation as if it was nothing more than mere rain. On the contrary he closed his eyes and breathed in, inhaling large enough amounts of the ethernano to fuel a magic car for half a week. The red light was hugging his body and with every time his chest pulled inwards to inhale again it rushed into him. Not just through his nostrils and maw, but through his whole body. And the longer he did it, she felt a sense of exhaustion fill her. As if Erza had just finished a 100 Mile run.
She quickly stopped pushing ethernano out, but what was done was done. She could see how Deathfang swelled up, his eyes, his muscles, the hundreds of tiny to fist thick vines in his wings pulsing, their light bathing the now wasted park in which they were in their light.
His body regained long lost strength, his muscles and nerves, partially atrophic from the lack of magic, forced to work to accompany and aid his friend into banishment, were restored and more. It seemed as if his already large bulk grew even more and with a sudden roar he swung his maw into the air, a ball of power, of not only Ethernano, but blazing Quaysh crafted in perfect balance.
For a moment, the world seemed to freeze before it vanished into blinding light, a pillar as thick as a tower bursting out of Deathfangs mouth, it´s brilliance so intense that it outshone all the other colors and lights of the day.
It razed half a dozen miles into the sky before detonating, forming what seemed like a new star, so intense and so bright in it´s heat that even the partial cloud cover that obstructed the sun that day simply evaporated, covering the city below it in sunlight.
It took erza, shaken from the exhaustion and the blinding light, to realize that Deathfang was laughing. He was laughing, almost maniacally, jumping in the air, swiping his wings and tail, not in rage but in joy.
Realizing that he was talking to hear was an even slower process.
".... uld want to see Glaurung do that! Hah! Oh young Hatchling, I feel this is the start of a wonderful partnership."
AN
Hah, all this talk about Erza finding some high elf or imperial mage teacher! I bet non of you guessed that her magic mentor would turn out to be a dragon!
As always, Credit goes to my brilliant beta and friend @Hapless Anon . Thank you for your continued support, you are a light of joy in my life.
For all of you, hope you enjoyed this chapter. As always, I´m open for all critique as long as it is reasonable
Erza took in a final sip of tea as she observed who was sitting before her. Well "sitting" might be the wrong word. Laying down and not trying to crush her surroundings was a better one.
She sipped again, careful that she never looked away from these large pupils staring directly into her eyes, each easily as large as her hand. The tea was good. Emanuello had put an entire spoon of sugar in it. It was very calming.
Still, for some reason her heart would not stop pounding? Oh what could be the reason for it? She looked at the eyes in front of her and for a moment she imagined another creature being there. A dark monste sweeping away all the magic, all the channeled camaraderie of her family, her guild, Fairy Tail.
Or seven titans of flesh, scale and magic might, rampaging through Crocus, all the magic and martial power of the continent arrayed against them, and yet not even doing so much as to scratch them.
Or one with a voice and body so terribly similar to her own, a cruel clint in her eyes, with claws that threw her around like a toy. That shattered her body with a single swipe of her claws, with the ease one might break a stick over one's knees.
She took another sip, numbly noting the liquid was bubbling within her cup. Strange, it wasn't even all that hot. It took her a couple moments to find the reason: Scarlet red light was emanating from her every pore, rending the ground and the air around her in its potency.
Oh dear, that was embarrassing. It had been a very long while since she hadn´t been able to properly control her own magic power any more. She quickly tried to control herself again but it was unusually difficult. Also her breathing was weirdly accelerated, coming and going in fast gulps that didn't seem to take in enough air.
Yeah, this entire situation was truly strange.
"You do not need to be afraid of me."
Erza did not yell out an "Eepp!" and she didn't jump away, slipping on the ground and falling on her butt in the process when the Dragon suddenly spoke. Somehow, for some reason that was not quite clear to Erza however, she found that she had drenched herself in tea and the cup was broken on the ground.
She also didn't frown and glare at the big reptile beforehand, very clearly chuckling as she did not stand up again and dust the dirt off her rump.
Faintly noticed at the side was some mule screaming, and she could hear Grimaldi curse. How the Priest had managed to get the animal he was always running around with to remain this close - meaning on the other end of the clearing- to a dragon, she didn't know.
"I do not intend to harm you." The voice of the dragon was rough, hard but still had somewhat of a melodic accent to it. Deathfang was probably unused to talking in Tilean, but still, it sounded ill-fitting to come out of that immense, fang-filled maw. He almost sounded gentle. After a couple moments -which involved her sending a glance over to Grimaldi, Goric, Emanuello and his surprisingly emotionless guards- he snarled and shook his head. "Neither will I lay a claw on your companions. Much too small and thin! Too much bone, too little flesh and fat." He let out a little spurt of flame out of his nostrils, itself hot and bright enough to lighten the park up as if it was the middle of the day and not sunrise. "Especially the dwarf. Would be like licking scraps out of a can!"
She couldn't help but think that the Dragon found the entire situation mightily amusing, and for a moment she considered decking it in the snout before discarding the thought. No sense to start a fight she might very lose no matter how …. vexing he was being.
Deathfang for his part only chuckled again - a terrifying noise that came out as a rumble, not unlike an earthquake- not seemingly intimidated in the least by the Titania's death stares.
"So, what exactly was so important that required you to stare at me for an hour?" She began, glancing again at her companions, or more precisely, to Goric who was loudly grumbling at Arsanil, undoubtedly having heard Deathfang's joke. Even from here she could see the Dragonlord's smirk.
"I was evaluating the effect the winds of magic had on you." He shook his immense head in apparent disgust. "Poor term that it is."
The winds of magic? Was that the local ethernano equivalent? She had certainly noticed her body trying to make use of it like it would regular magic particles, but for some reason she found it to be less than effective.
Not to mention that at points it would leave her fine and at others it made her feel sick or give her a headache. She had been meaning to find a mage of this world to talk about this oddity, but so far didn't have the opportunity for that. Unfortunately it seemed that mages were far rarer in these lands than they were home.
The dragon just laughed more when she told him this. "You don't need to search for any of these fools to tell you what you know."
He rose up to flex his wings a little, the resulting mini tornado tearing off leaves from all the surrounding trees, and stripping many nearby buildings of their roof tiles. The dragon didn't seem to care as he sat himself down in front of her, resting his bulk on his front legs, not unlike a cat now that she thought about it.
"My kin has taught the Asur on all matters of magic long before the humans around here had even crawled out of their caves. You will find myself a more knowledgeable teacher than any of them." There was an audible pride under his words. "Of course in return, you will allow me the answers to some of my very own questions."
It was not a request, that was clear even to her. Slowly she thought about, evaluating if the Dragon might attempt to trick her before rejecting that assumption. It had no need to. For that reason she sat down after stretching her legs, getting to a comfortable spot.
"Very Well."
"Magic is not native to this world. It flows from a dark realm, adjacent to this plane of existence. That place is known as the Realm of Chaos, that is all I will tell you for now." Deathfang evaded the explanation despite her raised brow. "From that place magic flows over this world, affecting all that it touches. There are many smaller rents in existence, but I know of only two permanent places: the polar gates. One is far to the north, beyond the Empire lands, touching the place known as Norsca."
"Have you ever been there?" Erza asked. The dragon shook its head, rather quickly she noted.
"No. Never shall I visit that land, those who go there will be corrupted by its influence. We dragons may be resistant, but once it has a hold on your soul… I am getting ahead of myself." Deathfang composed himself, ruffling his wings. "From there magic flows into the world, becoming more stable the further it gets from the poles. Relatively speaking." He made a growl strongly reminiscent of a cleared throat
"What does that mean?" Erza didn't like that sound, not one bit.
Deathfang shot her a bemused look, she assumed it was with the way he peered down at her. "Have you ever seen a wizard draw so much power that they explode? Literally go up like a broken cannon? Or transform into a sack of mutated meat screaming in pain to the point of insanity?"
Erza grimaced, idly aware of Goric muttering something to Asarnil that had him scowl. "I know of wizards who can inflict things like that back home, typically dark wizards. Many tend to simply kill outright."
She thought of the ones who didn't. Wizards who had other ideas of what to do to their foes, or captives, or their own comrades if the need arose. Her fists clenched; in their mindless lust for power those fools damned themselves, taking so many innocent lives with them.
"So even from your home, magic can be misused. Unfortunate." Deathfang nodded in sympathy.
"Unfortunate indeed. Though I am not aware of regular magic users suffering such drawbacks." Erza said, crossing her legs, deep in thought. The existence of Gods were nothing unusual, she knew of similar beings back in earthland, but even Chronos hadn´t been anywhere as terrible as these beings. It… made sense that she had trouble making use of the local magic compared to home.
"Still, your magic lacks the touch, the taint of them." Fascination was blazing in his eyes. "Young hatchling, may I have the honor of tasting said power? I… know only the stories of the oldest of my kin on how the Aethyr used to be before their arrival." There was a sense of trepidation in his voice. Of respect, excitement and awe but also hesitancy and even a little fear. For a moment the immense creature looked less like the force of nature it was and more like a young boy, discovering fire for the first time, seeking it´s warmth but also fearing it´s burn.
"How do I-?" "Just put your hand on my snout and release your magic, like you have done before."
Slowly, almost hesitantly, she stood up and walked forward, closer to the monster that could swallow a human with just a single bite. Deathfang for his part remained perfectly still, doing his best to not scare her, though it was obvious how much he was looking forward to this.
The first thing she noticed when she put her hand on it´s scales was that it was hot. She had felt the same thing the first time she had touched him, but now it was far more intense and more than that…. she could sense the reason behind it.
Through his vines and bones, through his every cell, magic flowed, like a torrent of grand and great might. Every of his movements, every of his acts, was fuelled by it, power harnessed and concentrated to such an absurd degree, she could hardly imagine the devastation the old drake could cause if he released it. Simultaneously she could feel just how easy that release would be with just a single exhalation.
It would be not much unlike a blast of a jupiter cannon. She knew she could survive it, but how many or her companions could? How much of this city would be destroyed?
Truly, it was no wonder everyone sought his and arsanils assistance in the fights to come.
She closed her eyes and concentrated on her magic for a moment, feeling the huge well of ethernano inside her, powering not unlike the Dragon before her. She had heard and seen how super powerful mages like Gildarts could simply push out their ethernano, creating a tornado of light that covered all their surroundings, pressing all that were not them to the ground, even the strongest of opponents barely being able to stand.
Would she be able to do the same? Breathing in once she grabbed after her internal reserves, an imaginary hand pushing in the blazing sun that was her core. And then, after one last moment of hesitation, she pushed.
From her eyes, her mouth, her ears, from her skin, from every single hole and opening in her body red light burst, no detonated out. With the force of a magic bomb going off. The place, the ground, the dirt, the surrounding trees, all where she and Deathfang had been standing, it ceased to exist.
From the edge of her eyes, through the ultra dense red orb that engulfed the two of them now, she could see how Arsanil, his superhuman reflexes exploding into action, kicking Goring behind a small ridge of earth and trees, while Grabbing Emanuello and Grimaldi and pushing them to the ground, his body and some kind of hot glowing magic artifact shielding them from the shockwave that reached them.
The body guards that had accompanied Emanullo weren't as lucky, being hurdled against nearby trees and rocks, only their heavy armor preventing the worst.
Deathfang forever didn´t shrug off the devastation as if it was nothing more than mere rain. On the contrary he closed his eyes and breathed in, inhaling large enough amounts of the ethernano to fuel a magic car for half a week. The red light was hugging his body and with every time his chest pulled inwards to inhale again it rushed into him. Not just through his nostrils and maw, but through his whole body. And the longer he did it, she felt a sense of exhaustion fill her. As if Erza had just finished a 100 Mile run.
She quickly stopped pushing ethernano out, but what was done was done. She could see how Deathfang swelled up, his eyes, his muscles, the hundreds of tiny to fist thick vines in his wings pulsing, their light bathing the now wasted park in which they were in their light.
His body regained long lost strength, his muscles and nerves, partially atrophic from the lack of magic, forced to work to accompany and aid his friend into banishment, were restored and more. It seemed as if his already large bulk grew even more and with a sudden roar he swung his maw into the air, a ball of power, of not only Ethernano, but blazing Quaysh crafted in perfect balance.
For a moment, the world seemed to freeze before it vanished into blinding light, a pillar as thick as a tower bursting out of Deathfangs mouth, it´s brilliance so intense that it outshone all the other colors and lights of the day.
It razed half a dozen miles into the sky before detonating, forming what seemed like a new star, so intense and so bright in it´s heat that even the partial cloud cover that obstructed the sun that day simply evaporated, covering the city below it in sunlight.
It took erza, shaken from the exhaustion and the blinding light, to realize that Deathfang was laughing. He was laughing, almost maniacally, jumping in the air, swiping his wings and tail, not in rage but in joy.
Realizing that he was talking to hear was an even slower process.
".... uld want to see Glaurung do that! Hah! Oh young Hatchling, I feel this is the start of a wonderful partnership."
AN
Hah, all this talk about Erza finding some high elf or imperial mage teacher! I bet non of you guessed that her magic mentor would turn out to be a dragon!
As always, Credit goes to my brilliant beta and friend @Hapless Anon . Thank you for your continued support, you are a light of joy in my life.
For all of you, hope you enjoyed this chapter. As always, I´m open for all critique as long as it is reasonable
Neruz
Rogue Spiderbanana
- Location
- The Land of Fire and Poison
Ooh, I hadn't even considered what effect Erza's untainted magic would have on the Dragons and their waning power.
I bet she could wake up more than a few snoozing Dragons with a similar display, which has some pretty significant potential consequences.
Deathfang being able to teach Erza is pretty obvious in hindsight, given that I'm pretty sure the Dragons were the ones who originally taught the High Elves how to magic.
I bet she could wake up more than a few snoozing Dragons with a similar display, which has some pretty significant potential consequences.
Deathfang being able to teach Erza is pretty obvious in hindsight, given that I'm pretty sure the Dragons were the ones who originally taught the High Elves how to magic.
jwolfe_beta
Semi Genre-Savvy Overlord
- Location
- Canada
Problem is that she's only one person and over on SB the author indicated that Deathfang is going to run out of the 'recharge' she gave him eventually.
- Pronouns
- He
I mean.
Death Fang is using ethernano now. Unlike erza he doesn´t have a lacrimina in him that produces ethernano, so the more of it he uses, the less he has for himself, no?
Death Fang is using ethernano now. Unlike erza he doesn´t have a lacrimina in him that produces ethernano, so the more of it he uses, the less he has for himself, no?
jwolfe_beta
Semi Genre-Savvy Overlord
- Location
- Canada
-Checks wiki, is less than useful-
So what, dragon lacrima is an 'organ' that FT dragons naturally have that functions as a ethernano reactor? Becuase the only discription that I can find for lacrimina in general is that they're ethernano batteries in various forms. Nothing about where they're found/from etc.
- Pronouns
- He
No the lacrima in this case is what erza got in edolas (a parallel Dimension with barely any ethernano) that allows her to produce ethernano on her own.
If i remember correctly, been a while since i watched the edolas arc
If i remember correctly, been a while since i watched the edolas arc
jwolfe_beta
Semi Genre-Savvy Overlord
- Location
- Canada
-Shrug-
Only mention I can find is the 'X-balls' which were aparently a medicine that would 'enable the user to retain the ability of generating Magic Power, typically used by Earth Land Mages, even when travelling to a dimension like Edolas, where this isn't normally possible.'
- Pronouns
- He
that´s the lacrima i mean
jwolfe_beta
Semi Genre-Savvy Overlord
- Location
- Canada
Hmm does she have any left over?
-Deathfang chugs the entire bottle-
"I am Fire. I am DEATH!"
Erza: "Don't worry, the power high only lasts a few minutes. He'll be back to normal after that, everybody to the bunkers!"
- Pronouns
- He
she doesn´t have them on her, sadly no.