A Dinner party and games

Morwen settled into the captain’s cabin in the Cadaver Crasher, hanging her dark navy blue uniform jacket on the rack next to the door. She loosened the top button of her service blouse and took a seat at the mirror. She undid the severe pony tail and channeled a point of her light magic to ease the throbbing pain in her temples. As the aching subsided, she allowed herself an exhausted sigh.

“Credit for your thoughts Captain?” Rozien asked. A tome enchanted with the soul of the first officer of the spell ship they had sent her to recover. The dark leather-bound book bobbed up and down in the space above her counter. An azure sapphire pulsed with light magic, like a vocalizer on a Brotherhood of Man ship showing a sign of audio activity.

“Where to start?” She mused aloud.

“Well. Considering my current form is that of a book? The beginning might feel like a trite reply.”

Morwen paused for a moment, the corner of her mouth threatening to crack into a smile. “So simple, it might just work. Very well. I find myself concerned with several factors. The first among them being this mess we seem to have created with the Lieutenant. It’s effectively pulled him out of action, and being that he’s a capable field commander and versatile as well as powerful, I find I dislike his absence from the squad. Second, I hadn’t expected coming to rely on him so much. I can still recall feeling absolutely nothing but a drive to complete the mission my father had given me when issuing the prophecy to me that led Akamori to be a part of my company. He showed me the value of not losing what makes us mortal in our fight. I viewed him as a resource and treated him like he was. I bound him with as little thought and preamble as the Sauridius did to the Governor of Hidros.”

Morwen paused the strokes of her brush to study her hands. “I’m not an expert and I’m not the best. I’ve lost far more battles than I’ve won. My biggest claim to fame until Hidros was saving a couple hundred colonists across multiple worlds. There’s more blood on my hands than there isn’t. And yet, despite that, people routinely look to me as I have all the answers and know all the ways out. Most times, I can barely see a step ahead.”

She resumed working the knots out of her long raven hair, flinching occasionally and channeling more of her magic to soothe the irritated nerves of her scalp to ward off a migraine. She was prone to those, so she tapped into her healing magic at every opportunity as a preventive means.

“But the squad is feeling less like a squad and more like…” she trailed off, uncertain if she should put voice to the words on the edge of her tongue.

“Like a family?” Rozien asked after a moment’s silence.

She nodded first, then frowned, realizing Rozien might not have seen her non-verbal cue. “Yes. Precisely. I’ve never had much of a stable family growing up. My mother and father split when I was young. Mother married to the Artificers guild, and my father to being the ArchPriest. That left me with service as the only means for me to find my way. And now, I have people like Sirsir, Akamori, Amara, Sala, Arjun, and more. When I first started fighting, my tactics were clinical. Sterile. But now that I have something to lose, despite what I’ve already lost?”

“You’ve found your reason to fight. A just cause is an easy fight to get behind. But protection. That takes something different.” Rozien said. “If I may. It sounds like your time around the squad is slowly bringing you out of your shell. Breaking down the barriers you build to protect yourself from the world and the horrors of war as a child. When I fought alongside Aeryn, she chose less…nobler paths.”

Morwen’s brow lifted in curiosity. She’d never been starkly religious. Not like any of the other nobles who wrapped themselves up in the worship of Aeryn like a cloak of protection. “Oh? Such as?”

“When the trauma of a conflict that never ended and always took a little more than it ever gave you? She resorted to drinking.”

Morwen couldn’t contain the thought. She was partially scandalized and partially amused. To think of the great lady of light, resorting to emptying a bottle of wine. The nobility and priests would have burned Rozien had they ever learned this. She leaned close and whispered conspiratorially, “Don’t let anyone else hear that one. They may slip up and tip you into a furnace if you’re not careful.”

“Oh, I’m well aware. You guys have blown her way out of proportion. The Aeryn I remember was nothing like this elegant, grand lady of light I hear spoken of by your nobles and priests. She was grungy, sometimes stand until she ascended, and always drank. The only difference between her as a soldier and a goddess was the amount of wine it took to get her drunk.”

Morwen blinked. “Where have you been all my life?”

“Tucked away in Erlaut’s private vault in the library.”

“That sounds about right. Continue.”

“Aeryn was a soldier. Like yourself. And she faced a lot of the same challenges fighting a different threat.”

“There always is one, isn’t there?”

The book shuddered, like it visibly suffered a shiver. The pages rasped as they rattled together. “Pray that we never face what Aeryn fought. That was a danger of levels of magnitude greater than Sauridius. I don’t wish on anyone.”

Morwen frowned. “That’s how she died, wasn’t it? Fighting this unstoppable evil?”

“Yeah. She sacrificed herself so that her assassin. Not the goon doing the killing, the one giving the order, would think she was dead and gone and leave us be.”

“Planting the seed to make things right some day.”

“She had her nobler moments.” Rozien added in a melancholy tone.

Morwen was about to continue when a flaming wyvern spell flew through the wall of her cabin and unfurled into a scroll. A missive spell dispatched from Keimut. It invited her to an evening party. It promised fun, drinks, and the potential to discuss her proposal of an alliance. She groaned at the first two.

“I really dislike this Keimut.”

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“He strikes me as arrogant and manipulative. I’d be on your guard.”

She reached her hand out, and her jacket flew to her hand. As she spun, throwing it back on, she glanced down to Rozien. “Care to join me?”

“I’m not exactly built for parties, Captain. But then again, Amara freed me from that infernal library to travel. I’d be a fool to trade one prison for another. Sure.”

“Splendid. I’d prefer not to do this alone.” She scooped the book up and tucked it into her coat.

Morwen approached a large white marble building with an open room large enough to allow dragons to take off and land with room to spare. It stood in stark contrast to the massive, winding spires. Flat and expansive, it occupied as much ground as obnoxiously possible. Running the perimeter was a waist-high wall. Topping the wall sat bottles and glasses of air wine. Morwen could hear the dull din of conversations permeating the entire area.

No one greeted her as she quietly pressed her way into the throng of dragons. They were all morphed into humanoid forms. It was strange for her to see. All of them were bald. Still displayed their draconic eyes and pointed teeth, yet were shaped like humans. Wings swept up from their backs and a tail from the back of their waist. The appearance of being human ended on closer inspection, however, as she noticed that what appeared to be skin pores were really just microscopic scales. She had to admit to herself it was rather impressive to see, however. But nothing compared to Ominek who could pass himself off as a full human.

“Captain Morwen.” A feminine voice with a draconic accent greeted her. Morwen half spun and found a woman wearing a dress colored the same as the scales of the dragon, who’d spared Akamori from a sudden execution. The matron dragon slowly wound her way through the social crowds politely, but with expert ease. Eventually she paused before Morwen, offering a bow and a slight dip of her chin.

“Good evening. We’re delighted you could join us tonight.”

Morwen gave the dragon a diplomatic smile and a Federation Salute. This amused the dragon, which served Morwen’s intended purpose.

“I am Azil. A matron of Andlkang. We rarely get diplomats from the tree people. It’s strange to find one of your people not worshipping your lady of light so fervently.”

“I’m not exactly the most ideal disciple where religion is concerned. I find I thrive best in a battlefield, not a temple.”

“Ah. A warrior’s spirit. You’ll fit right in here.” Azil said with a pointed toothy smile that unsettled Morwen. Like seeing a predator bare its fangs at you in delight.

“Yes, well, I did hope to live up to my role here as a diplomat. Your strength would prove invaluable in the fight against the Sauridius.”

A black shadow swept by so quick the primal mammal in Morwen went straight to panic mode. It took a lot of effort to bite down on her emotions and keep them from bleeding through her aura. Maintaining an unreadable face was hard work, and she was sure the matron caught the momentary lapse. Thankfully, Azil saw fit not to push the point.

In the center of the white marble open roofed temple for want of a better word, Keimut rose from a crouch. Dust still settled around him from his sudden landing, and Morwen realized she barely felt him touch down. The speed and mass which he’d come in with would have left an impact crater, surely. That suggested he shifted mid flight. So he possessed skill and power.

Keimut having both meant nothing to trouble for her, and she cursed inwardly. She could deal with an impotent manipulator or a foolish warrior. But a cunning and powerful warrior would be dangerous. Not only would he be smart enough to maneuver her into trouble, but he’d be able to worm his way free of any responsibility. She plucked a glass of air wine from a tray held by a human rider wearing clean white garments.

Keimut strolled over to join them. He spent a few silent moments looking them over from down his nose. Morwen could practically taste the contempt in the air. He clothed himself in fine silks of blue and white variety. A color theme she was coming to expect from Anazi Prime, as most air wyrms were white and blue in some variation. Keimut appeared to be building an identity around being the premier air wyrm of the world though, and as thus held the social hierarchy firmly in his grasp.

“Good evening.” Keimut said, opting to omit titles and even names.

Morwen caught the omission and opted against making a point of it. Azil, however, did not.

“ Matron Azil, to you, child.” Azil said with barely concealed disgust.

Morwen caught the small twitch of Keimut’s lips, threatening to crack into a smirk. He made a show of bowing in apology, making a display of prostrating before her.

“Of course Matron Azil. Forgive me. Sometimes in my youthful vigor, I lose sight of the clumsy formalities.”

Morwen sighed inwardly. And there it was. The thinly veiled barb at Azil’s age, and adherence to tradition. He’d been pushing for the Kinslayer to be put to death immediately. But Azil had prevented him from getting retribution for their people by leaning on ancient traditions. She certainly had her work cut out for her if this was going to be anything but a disaster.

“Yes, well. Try to keep up. I know the joys of youth can be quite distracting, but one in your position can ill afford such issues.” Azil shot back with an icy smile that failed to reach her eyes.

Morwen allowed herself an amused look at Azil’s reply. She was fast being reminded that dragons did not differ from elves. They still played the same foolish games and simply dressed them up in a different tradition. Very well, she thought.

“If you two need some alone time, I can excuse myself back to the ship?” Morwen teased gently.

“You’ll do no such thing.” Keimut replied curtly. “I requested you. It would be rude of me to ignore such an esteemed guest. Tell me, do you play Darstrix Aryte?”

“I’m familiar with it, yes.” Morwen replied noncommittally.

“Would you care to join me for a game, then?”

Morwen forced her features neutral after a bit of effort. She cleared her throat finally and nodded. She’d long enjoyed the game as an opportunity to test out new strategies and tactics against opponents in an environment where all she would pay for would be the stones or tokens lost. The chance to play a dragon was a rarity, if unheard of.

“Lead the way.” Morwen said, the corner of her lip turning upwards.

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