Chapter 2

The silver glow of twilight coming in from the East always made Suris look like a ghost town to Fulgore. It gave it an air of spiritual impermanence, like a glimmering city of dull mirrors. Each time dawn came was a reminder to him of how little time he had. When the sun rose at home, in the Drakma's stronghold of Hale to the South, he used to think the light was prettiest in the Silver Hour. It ushered out the dark of night and allowed the golden moon that was once the body of Tiamat to rest until it was needed again. Now, rather than the gentle glow he’d thought of it as in his childhood, the light was more of a reminder than anything. When the afternoon came, it would be harsh and hot. After all, white light was always the most blinding.

Ziinra had been there before he got to the gate, an entrance which, in peacetime, stood open during the day. It was still manned by an armed guard on either side. Renn hadn’t been to war in many years, but night and early morning patrols were still enforced. Fulgore and Ziinra were perched near one of the guard tower entrances on either side of the gate, which, context removed, might have looked like ordinary small houses jutting from out of the stone barrier. The city itself was surrounded by an enormous wall, at least 10 meters in height. Much of it had been erected with Earth magic, reinforced later by occasional bars of steel bent with Metal magic, the fusion of Earth and Order.

Suris was something of a stronghold thanks to the wall, and had once been the home of the Pendragon line during their reign. Still, despite the undeniable security of the city, the sitting king had not made his home there in several years. There had long been talk of changing Renn’s capital from Suris to Venare, a city far closer to the Gaean border in the West. Official discussions had never gotten very far. Though King Argentum von Maur had always shown clear favor to Gaea and largely neglected Racrodii, not all of his subjects in the Rennan Parliament felt that showing such obvious bias was wise. Still, the crown held a great deal of power, and though Suris was the nation’s capital in name, nothing held King von Maur there if he desired to make his home somewhere else.

“She’s late.” Fulgore groaned.

“Just give it a minute.” Ziinra replied. “If she takes too long, we’ll leave. Until then, we may as well have some patience.” The two of them had been waiting for Onyx since before the sun had risen. They had both been early, but Fulgore still couldn’t help feeling impatient and irritated at Onyx’s lack of punctuality, especially since she was the one who insisted she wanted to come. Now she’d set them back at least half an hour.

“Hey!” Came a familiar high voice. Onyx jogged up to them to join the group, her hair disheveled and belt twisted in the middle. She’d gotten dressed in a hurry, from the looks of it.

“Took you long enough.” Fulgore chided.

“Slept in?” Followed Ziinra in a decidedly kinder tone of voice.

“What? Me? Never!” Onyx panted. “I’ll have you know I’m perfectly on time! I was just…” She took a moment to think. “Eating breakfast! You have to eat before a big journey like this, right?”

“It’s actually better to stagger your meals throughout the day when you take a big hike.” Fulgore answered her rhetorical question. “Dinner is one thing, but if you eat a lot all at once during the trip, your stomach’s gonna turn for a while.”

“Oh.” Onyx replied, seeming less concerned than someone who’d actually just eaten a big meal would be. Fulgore could tell she’d probably made that up on the spot, but it didn’t matter. There wasn’t any sense dwelling on it.

“We ready to go?” He asked, uncrossing his arms and stretching. The weight of his cloak was much harder to carry without leaning on the wall, but as always, he knew he’d adjust within the hour.

The lightly-armored guard at the exit to the city hadn’t left just yet, even with Onyx’s late arrival. When the group approached, the guard gave them a single look before nodding and calling over her shoulder to her companion on the other side.

“Three coming through.” She dictated clearly, not shouting per se, but projecting her voice. Onyx seemed surprised to see the small civillian’s gate open so quickly. The trio stepped out one by one, saying a quick greeting to the guard on the outside before regrouping a bit farther away and going over their supplies.

“Isn’t it weird for them to not check our ID?” Onyx asked.

“We were leaving. They don’t tend to care much who’s coming out. Who they let in is a different matter.” Fulgore explained while peeling one of his last oranges.

“But what if we were like, wanted criminals? We could have just walked right out.”

“If you think just anyone can walk in and out of the bounty hunting capital of the world, you’re wrong.” Fulgore dropped the torn peel to the ground, pulling off a slice of the fruit. “If someone with a price on their head is dumb enough to show their face here in broad daylight, that’s their mistake.” He popped the orange slice into his mouth.

“I guess that makes sense.” Said Onyx, picking at the strap of her bag as the group walked. “I guess I just expected the whole place to be a bit more chaotic, if there’s really such a huge bounty hunter population.”

“Sometimes it is,” Ziinra confirmed, “Though most hunts are technically designated to other districts of the city, sometimes just outside. It’s pretty well accepted that the Southeast district is bounty hunter territory. It’s bad practice for mercenaries to interfere in each other’s work.”

“...so if I had tried to tag along with just anyone like this, then...”

“They probably would have assumed you were poaching.” Fulgore answered. “I thought that’s what you were doing too, at first. Sorry if that made me a little hostile.”

“Oh, no, that actually makes perfect sense.” Onyx replied, perhaps the first signs of real embarrassment crossing her face. “I should be the one apologizing.”

“Either way,” Ziinra began, eyes on the stone path gradually transitioning to packed dirt, “We know that wasn’t your intent. Right now, we should just focus on getting to Underk.”

The beginning of the trip was fairly quiet. Whether the silence was more motivated by Onyx’s lingering shame, Fulgore’s quiet stoicism or Ziinra’s focused calm, the three didn’t say much for most of the morning, except for Onyx to ask Fulgore if she could have his last orange. He settled with giving her half of it, while Ziinra snacked on berries out of a small pouch as they went. The trail grew fainter and narrower as they went along, even more so after three breaks in the path.

“It must be annoying trying to trade with this place.” Onyx finally spoke up. “This road would be murder on a cart.”

“It is odd.” Fulgore agreed. “It’s possible the local merchants just come to Suris, though. One horse would have it easier than a whole carriage.”

“Why the fixation on the road?” Ziinra asked. Fulgore gave her a quizzical look.

“Don’t you think it sounds just a bit suspicious for a drake to suddenly appear, 50 kilometers from the nation’s capital, without a single alert to the authorities?” He asked. “Full reds don’t just sneak around undetected. If that thing travelled to Underk, it should have left pure devastation behind it. Instead, this is the only place it’s been sighted.” Ziinra slowly began to understand.

“You don’t think it was made in the village, do you?” She asked.

“I don’t know what I think yet.” Fulgore answered. “All I know right now is that there’s always a complicated story involved when a drake shows up. Sometimes it never comes to light, and doesn’t need to. Usually, though, the stronger the drake, the more complex the reason is for its existence.” He grimaced. “I’ve seen whole villages of cultists before. This wouldn’t be the first time.”

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“What do you mean you’ve seen them before?” Onyx asked. “Like, do you mean...?” Fulgore cursed himself. He’d withheld his family name before, but at this point, there wasn’t any hiding it. She’d probably know the moment she saw him fight, anyway.

“You asked me before what my full name is,” Fulgore said quietly, “My name is Fulgore Drakma.”

“Okay,” Onyx replied without missing a beat, “But what does that have to do with anything?” Fulgore raised an eyebrow.

“Does that name not mean anything to you?”

“Should it?” She asked. That took him by surprise. The Drakma and Muriisi were well known across all of Renn and Gaea. Most elves were from the latter continent, but though the sparing few born in Renn would know it better, even those from the states to the West knew the name Drakma. The entire continent of Gaea had been a hotspot for black and grey drakes, even centuries after the death of Fafnir the Black, and the Drakma were never far behind to handle them during those chaotic times.

“It’s fine.” Fulgore told her. “The point is that I’m a drake hunter. Or at least, I was brought up to be. There aren’t that many to hunt anymore, but I’ve got enough to show for my training.”

A long silence followed. The only sounds in the air apart from the hum of the surrounding woods were the crunching of leaves into the dirt path under their feet. Onyx’s boots, however, were silent. She’d stopped in her tracks completely.

“That’s...” Onyx’s face lit up with pure elation. “That’s amazing!” She ran to catch up, moving in front of Fulgore and walking backwards to face him as she talked. “So this should be cake for you then! I mean, this is your thing, right? I can’t wait, this is gonna be so cool-!” Fulgore shot her a look that could chill the sun.

“Keep your voice down.” He growled. “We have no idea who or what else is out here. Don’t shout.”

“Sorry!” Onyx whispered. “But still, you can take this thing no problem then, can’t you?”

“I’ve hunted drakes on my own,” Fulgore sighed, “Lesser drakes. I’ve never even seen a full red in person before. The closest I’ve ever come was a full brown, and we never fought him.” He brushed Onyx to the side, turning her around to face ahead before walking any further. “I know what I’m doing, but no. This isn’t going to be ‘cake’ for any of us.”

“You guys keep saying ‘full’ and ‘lesser’,” Onyx said with a confused expression, “What does that mean? I thought drakes were just separated by color.”

“There’s color,” Ziinra cut in to save Fulgore the trouble, “And then there’s the form. When you perform a drake ritual with drakescales, you get a lesser drake. They’re still powerful, but usually they’re smaller and not as strong. A full drake is what you get when you perform that ritual with a dragonscale. They’re usually huge.”

“They can be nasty.” Fulgore commented. “Lesser drakes are one thing, but full drakes can raze entire towns by themselves. Especially drakes of Bahamut.”

“Those are fire drakes, right?” Onyx asked, slightly deflated. “And the one we’re about to fight…”

“Is the mother of all red drakes.” Fulgore confirmed. “I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear, but there’s no reality where this fight isn’t incredibly difficult.” Onyx took longer to bounce back from that. Still, true to her nature, she did manage to find a way to ask more questions. Before long, Fulgore and Ziinra had given her a detailed lesson on the nature of various drakes. Once that was done, she begged for stories from Fulgore on various hunts he’d performed, which he resisted for all of fifteen minutes. To his surprise, the stories helped the day pass faster. Even though they’d left not long after first light, it wasn’t too long before the Silver Hour returned and the sun began to set.

The three went just off the trail to find a suitable clearing, and with a stroke of good luck, managed to find a small meadow within the trees. The grass was wild and tall, but Ziinra found a solution quickly.

“Stand back just a bit.” She told them. Kneeling down, she picked up a small stick from the base of a tree where it had fallen from, stepping forward as her companions gave her space. She traced a symbol into the dirt below, though Fulgore couldn’t make out the exact shape. She placed her hand down, silence following the gesture at first. Then, the grass began to shrink. Glowing a faint shade of greenish white, the blades shortened millimeters at a time, and within thirty seconds, the clearing’s high brush was down to their ankles. She stood and smiled.

“What was that?” Onyx asked, in awe of the effects of the spell.

“Junsui magic,” Ziinra replied. “Life combined with Order. I willed the grass to change form.” She turned to walk to the center of the cleared area. “Come on, let’s make camp.”

One of Ziinra’s bags turned out to be a tent she’d been carrying for the journey, which Onyx made an effort to help with. Pinning the corners came easily to her, but securing the frame was another story. She left that part to Ziinra. Fulgore set out to scout the immediate area, determining quickly that they were as alone as they could hope to be for now. As the last glimmers of twilight faded, he gave a look over his shoulder in the direction they’d come from. Someone else had probably already taken the Delahue bounty. They may not have gotten him in yet, but massive gold bounties like that never stayed up for long. By choosing this instead, he’d let go of what could have been enough money to sustain him for a month. He might even have been able to get a horse with that kind of payout.

“Fulgore, were you going to eat?” Ziinra called out to him. Dinner wasn’t anything fancy, more dried beef with a small block of cheese Onyx had brought with her. Still, filling up before bed would help them rest. He sighed.

“Yeah.”

Night had fallen hours ago on the camp the three had set up. Onyx, of course, had fallen asleep in a matter of minutes, but Ziinra could tell early on that Fulgore wasn't fully comfortable in his circumstances. At first she'd tried to ignore it and sleep, not wanting to let his restlessness affect her, but after an hour or so of tossing and turning, she decided she couldn't take it anymore. She pulled the blankets off of herself, quietly sitting up and checking to make sure Onyx was asleep. A deafening snore answered that question.

A tarp just in front of the tent had been spread out to give about two meters worth of space to step. Fulgore laid staring up from it, hands behind his head and eyes on the stars. As Ziinra stepped barefoot on the tarp, suddenly conscious of her low state of dress, she realized that Fulgore still hadn't changed from his armor. Either he was being cautious, or he'd known far in advance that rest wouldn't come easy to him tonight.

“Are you having trouble sleeping?” She asked him. He'd clearly noticed her presence walking out of the tent, but he didn't seem to mind the company.

“You could say that,” Fulgore answered, “Chalk it up to being used to a better bed than that.”

“I think we'd all agree to that." Ziinra commented, sitting down next to Fulgore and crossing her legs beneath her nightgown. Fulgore chuckled.

“If by ‘we all,’” He made a slight gesture to the tent, “You mean ‘everyone but Onyx,’ then sure.” Ziinra smiled at his joke, but couldn't find it within herself to laugh. Something was wrong. She couldn't place it, but there was something about his demeanor, and furthermore, his eyes…

“Are you doing alright?” She asked. She laid down, still separate from him, but not far from where he’d settled on the tarp.

“Just a little restless,” He answered, “If I’m being entirely honest, I almost always have trouble sleeping.”

“And?” Ziinra prodded. Fulgore sighed, closing his eyes.

“…And it's a little nerve wracking that we're fighting a full drake,” He admitted.

“You won't be on your own,” Ziinra insisted, “You have Onyx and me.”

“You’re not wrong, but…”

“Listen," Ziinra turned her head towards him, "We'll be there to support you. I can assure you of that. But if this is too much for you-”

“No.” Although he didn't turn to face Ziinra on the tarp, Fulgore did open his eyes as he spoke again. “Like I said before, this is personal. This problem is only still around because I let a drake slip. It's my slack and I need to pick it up, even if I'm not alone.”

“You're certain?”

“Positive.” Fulgore turned to her, a subtle smile on his face, finally making eye contact for the briefest of moments. “Besides, I didn't just come out here because I couldn't sleep. The stars are beautiful this close to the mountains.” Ziinra looked up for herself one more time. Constellations and colorful clouds adorned the night sky, a yellow full moon and thousands of twinkling lights spread across the endless black canvas of night.

“They really are, aren’t they?” Ziinra agreed.

She kept lying there for a while, not feeling any compulsion to move or talk. For someone claiming to stargaze, Fulgore was keeping his eyes shut remarkably well. Perhaps there was a reason for that. It hadn't lasted long, and Ziinra wondered if she'd imagined it, but she'd noticed something when their eyes met. Ziinra could see something in his, something that, as far as she was concerned, seemed to fit the impression he’d left on her. Something determined, longing, anxious, excited, and all at once, horribly sad.