58.

“It’d be easier if you had someone helping you,” Sammus said from the bed. The indulgent prince had flopped on the bed after finding a pouch of salted peanuts that Erak had squirreled away. Erak shot him a pointed look as he put more armor on. Now that it wasn’t smeared in blood and guts, Erak could see the damage it had accumulated throughout the days.

The enamel that had coated it was nothing more than chips left here and there. Small dents left pockmarks across the surface and a long line was gouged out of it. He had fished a broken tooth or three out of the metal in the small joints or the overlap of between pieces.

The shield was in just as bad condition as the armor set. Dented along the edges from where he had smashed the various demons and monsters. The front face of the shield was covered in scratches and pitted. One of the straps was loose, the tough leather fraying slightly at the ends. Erak wanted to fix it, but he lacked the time and materials. He made sure all the other straps were tight as he grabbed the shield and lifted it.

Overall, the armor and shield looked like he felt. He cracked his neck, turning it side to side and then strapped the discord sword on his waist, then the dragon bone sword over his shoulder,the knife and finally the spear. He stood there looking in the mirror of the cabin for a moment and didn’t recognize himself.

The entire mirror was consumed by the battered gray armor, dented and scratched with pieces of color here and there, weapons draped over himself and an aura of lethality radiating out. Pomp popped out of his chest and twisted in a way that nothing with a real spine could, to look up at him.

“I just want to remind you that if you die, I do too,” Pomp said, voice flat and emotionless.

“Die? What is Erak thinking, little one?” Sammus asked inquisitively.

“He really does plan to challenge the rift guardian,” Pomp said.

“Erak! Are you mad?” Sammus yelled. Erak looked at the prince with confusion spread across his face.

“I said I would challenge it, did I not?” Erak signed.

“You did, but I thought it was hyperbole or something like that. A way to rally the troops. Inspire confidence.”

“No! I will make that creature bleed. Regardless of the cost,” Erak said back. Both Pomp and Sammus looked at him as if had sprouted a second head.

“Erak. It’s fucking huge. It throws bolts of fire that burn blocks of the city at a time. You can’t kill it,” Sammus had almost begun to plead.

“I do not need to kill it, merely attract its attention. I have my own plans to survive its attention and a way to get said attention,” Erak signed.

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“Your funeral,” Sammus said, waving a hand at him as he slumped back down on the bed.

“Our funeral,” Pomp said as he fully left Erak’s body and perched himself on the bed. In the hours since Erak had taken the bond skill that let Pomp absorb the extra Essence Erak gathered, the dragon had begun to look more and more real.

No longer was he a thin and ephemeral creature. He had become lifelike with a depth and weight to himself that is was a minor surprise that the bed did not bend to his weight as he sat there. Pomp was now nearly six and a half feet long and thick with simulated muscle. The frill that ran down his back had grown thick and long, white as snow and danced to unseen air currents. His mustache was luxurious and drooped down as Pomp flexed the claws on his hands back and forth like a cat kneading the bed and blankets.

“I am growing stronger, Erak. If this continued, with the other skill, I could be a true threat in combat. We would be able to fly up to that creature and battle it directly as equals, not beggars asking for a morsel of its attention. We will never make that if we die, snuffed away before we can grasp our potential,” Pomp begged.

“You speak of honor and glory. I speak of duty. I will do what I must.” Erak ended the argument with a curt chop of his hand before turning on his heel and walking out the door.

A spoiled prince and a spirit of intellect that was becoming a dragon did not understand that somethings were beyond personal survival or safety. He had made his vows years ago, the last words he had ever uttered. To defend. To obey.

Duty came first, before honor or glory or personal pride.

Erak marched down the halls and felt a tug inside of his chest, a stretching of a ligament he didn’t know existed before. Pomp flew down the hall suddenly, chasing after Erak and the strain in his chest eased a bit.

Erak headed further down the ship, heading toward the elevators to head down to the Armory. The ship was filled with courtesans, adventurers, bartenders and support personnel from the Armory. Outfits ranged from mesh shirts, to tight leather pants, and stained military uniforms. Not exactly the crew one would have imagined in the ancient and storied warship.

The crowds parted for him and then he and Pomp rode the elevator down in silence, stalking the halls down through the floating docks and toward then finally to the ground of the Armory. It was a mass of chaos, thousands of bodies filling the courtyard as they prepared to evacuate and launch their assault simultaneously. Nevia was standing atop of a truck’s cab, barking commands and creating order out of the chaos as she slowly directed the streams of humanity towards their designated area.

Erak avoided her. Her duty was a much more bitter pill than his own. He headed toward the gate where the tank sat, slowly accumulating a gathering around it. Hundreds of soldiers perched around the tank as Del and Conny sat on it, drinking from canteens and eating as the other members of the crew checked the vehicle. The crowd parted for Erak, a look on their faces that was half admiration and half intimidation.

Erak clambered up the side of the tank and sat down next to Del and pried his helmet off, setting it down next to himself. He used his skill to gift Pomp a body and the heavy dragon thumped on the metal of the tank. The soldiers looked up to him, waiting for him to say or do something.

Erak reached over and grabbed the pouch of candied nuts out of Del’s hand and pulled free a handful. He popped the sugar coated delights into his mouth and chewed while Pomp lounged next to him. Del spat and cursed but didn’t try to get the nuts back, rather reaching inside of the tank and pulling free another pouch. The crowd grew relaxed and were soon all resting, talking and eating as Erak watched the preparations.

He looked towards where the Iron Cathedral was and the guardian that protected the rift. Not long now.