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Basic math is taught to all children in the lands of Ov’Rea, as it was a way of life for everyone. It has proven a useful skill, time and time again, through history. It was used to resolve conflicts within eras of War times or helped trade struggles between nations and language barriers. There was no reason not to have the skill in this world.
With that said, Celine easily used her math skills to break down the time she needed to prepare for her unexpected journey, four hours. The time she needed to travel into and down to the belly of the mountain, two hours. Then there was the twelve hours to remain inside and pray to the Goddess so she doesn’t get eaten or worse, and finally the lovely ample six hours to return in time to complete her impromptu quest.
It all sounded easy!
So easy that she stood before the entrance of the cave as light just broke out over the horizon to illuminate the namesake of the mountain. From a distance one could see the shape of a fat duck in the rock formation around the entrance, with the open bill of the duck serving as the way inside. From an even further distance, off in the foothills of the mountain, one can even discern the shape of a fat duck from the outline against the daylit sky.
Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, sent a prayer to the Goddess, then exhaled.
“Right, ‘tis better to die trying to reach my dream than to remain safe and do nothing.”
Raising her head up with determination sparking in her eyes, she entered the cave. She followed the path that had been taught generation to generation of the people in Towne Fat Duck as part of their Harvest Rituals to appease the Dragoon for the year.
Ages ago, as she recalled, the Dragoon created a pact with the village at the foot of his mountain. He would not leave the mountain and lay waste to them so long as they provided him with a tenth of their harvest and wealth every year and in return they could live as they pleased and thrive. When they accepted his offer, Bahamut then taught the people how to navigate the cave system to avoid his traps and make it safely to his chambers, informing them to never use torches to find their way as the real path will always shine in darkness.
It hadn’t gone without notice that the last few years the Townspeople hadn’t performed the Harvest Ritual and their question of why had gone unanswered and avoided. They all went about their business with a loom of doom above their heads, yet Bahamut never left his mountain to rain death down upon them.
“...Perhaps Bahamut could tell me… if he doesn’t immediately kill me in offense to the town’s actions. I wonder if it’s anything to do with why he is in the mountain at all…”
A piece of information that everyone in town seemed to have forgotten in the centuries since the pact was made. She couldn’t recall in her memories that specific tale and it had been nagging her for some time. Searching the Tome Hall didn’t even procure that tale, as if it were purposely destroyed at some time in their long history.
It’s just something she could try to find out during her time of waiting in the mountain belly.
Stopping at the grand entrance to Bahamut’s chambers, Celine shifted her pack to one shoulder so she could get out her flint knife and a small steel rod. Easily finding the torch highlighted by the glowing circle on the wall, she lit the torch up.
The ground suddenly started shuddering, a vibration on her feet, as the lighting of the torch activated the door mechanism to open, with the flames following a trail to ignite fire wells and illuminate the entrance.
Tucking her items back into her pack, she cautiously stepped into the doorway and observed the shining chamber. It was a dazzling space of fire wells and the same bioluminescence used for the path glittering where the light of the fires did not reach. The lights glittering off the heaps of treasures that were given to Bahamut over the centuries, and she recalled the side cavern where they would place their food offerings for the Dragoon. She couldn’t see into it yet to determine if Bahamut even still had food after a few years of no harvest offerings.
At the center of the chamber lay the dark dragon form of Bahamut, seemingly asleep despite the sounds of the doors opening. She had to inhale deeply again to steady her trembling of fear at what he could do to her should he awaken, thinking of what to do next.
A quick glance at the quest window that flicked up the moment she took a step into the chamber informed her on time.
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Simultaneously with the window, Bahamut’s eyes opened and turned to his head, without raising his head up, to stare at Celine.
“Did you come to investigate if I were dead, human?” Bahamut’s voice was altogether grumbling, growling, and hissing, echoing on the chamber walls so he need not be loud to be heard.
“N-no, Dragoon Bahamut. I-I’ve come t-to..” To not die, but that wasn’t the right answer. Neither was ‘to achieve my dreams’ as surely he’d misunderstand that phrasing. So, what should she say for her reason?
“To kill me?” He raised his head now, rolling his lips apart to bare his fangs at her.
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“NO! I-I could never do that to you! I’m just an NPC, after all.”
Bahamut closed his lips and canted his head to the side with his eyes conveying confusion.
“Oh, um, I guess you didn’t understand that word. I mean to say, I’m just a non-protected-”
“I know its meaning, I just don’t understand why you’re here if it’s not to kill me or even make up for the few years of no Harvest offering.”
Celine scratched her cheek as she looked off the side, still unsure how to answer the Dragoon. “I… I don’t actually know why we haven’t provided you these few years… um… I-I’m here t-to…”
Bahamut let off a sigh of fading patience, raising a claw up to rest his chin in the palm in clear signal of annoyance. “Just tell me the truth, human, and I may well spare your life. Depending on your answer, of course.”
“I’m here on a quest.”
“A quest? What kind of quest doesn't seek my death or placate my empty bowels?”
“Ah, well… the truth is… the truth… um…”
“Spit it out, little flint.”
“Little… flint?”
“Yes, Little Flint. You’re little to me, young as well as I am as older than Ov’Rea’s first formation, and your hair reminds me of flint. Now, spit out your truth.”
Celine shifted on her feet, feeling her cheeks turning red from being given such a nickname and the reason she is in his chambers. Locking her gaze with his, “I am Celine and my quest is to remain in your chambers for twelve hours and return to the training grounds alive.”
“...What a strange quest, why on earth did you take that?”
“I-I have a dream that I want to make true a-and this q-quest can help make it happen.”
Bahamut’s form suddenly vanished from sight, causing her to stiffen in sudden fear of what if he’s going to kill her after all. Gray eyes flicking around the chamber in search of the large dragon form, questioning how someone so large could suddenly be gone.
“What dream could you possibly have that could cause you to accept such a ridiculous and insulting quest, Little Flint.”
Celine yelped in surprise, spinning around to come face to face with a handsome face and glowing golden eyes. “Ah-ah-ahhhh!” Her heavy pack caused her to lose balance in her sudden spin about and pulled her to fall backwards, somersaulting painfully down the sloped path and landing in a heap near the center where he was resting just moments ago. “Ow.” She groaned out, shifting to remove her pack off her back and sit up to rub the pain that seemed centered on her back. “I want to own and operate a tavern one day.” She managed to croak out in her moment of pain.
Watching her painful tumble and hearing her ridiculous answer caused him to start cackling in laughter at her expense. “A tavern?! You want to- ahahahah! My Goddess, you risk your life for THAT?! You’re such a fool, Little Flint, ahahahahahah!!”
Celine’s cheeks burned and tears welled up in the corners of her eyes from the Dragoon laughing at her. “Then kill me, Bahamut! If my dream is so unworthy of this quest, of your time, then just kill me right now! We both know you can snap me like a twig, crush me like a day old chick helpless in a palm, however you want to do it, just kill me! At least I can ride the River Styx knowing I died trying to bring life to my dream instead of being stuck all my life doing the bidding of whoever is above my station in Ov’Rea!” She stood up, trembling in fear but also shaking in anger as years of taunting from the townspeople resonated with his laughter. “I’m tired of getting belittled, tired of becoming a laughing stock and treated worse than a starving dog in the McGizzard Tavern as people grope me whilst I serve their food that I cooked on their demand. I am tired of being trapped as an NPC, told time and time again that I can’t leave the Town just because I haven’t the Blessing to be protected against the beasts of the lands that devour you in a second. I don’t care about being Blessed, I don’t care about being shamed for having this dream, I only care about making my dream come true and if it means I’ll die at your claws, then so be it, do it you-you-you FAILURE!!”
They stood in near silence, Celine was huffing to catch her breath from her tearful monologue, eyes locked on each other as he turned serious to her anger towards her situation, not towards him. Canting his head curiously towards her as he considered her words, ignoring that sad insult at the end of her speech as it didn’t at all apply to him.
Stretching his wings out, he flapped himself into a calm, slow jump that landed him in front of her, watching how she flinched but remained where she stood.
He had met many creatures, varying beast and sentients, and learned who he’d prefer keeping close and who he’d rather not interact with for any longer than is needed. Raising his clawed hand to rest on her shoulder, he spread his lips into an understanding smile.
“Seems we have time, Little Flint. What should you like to do?”
Gray eyes widen in surprise then unsure, turning away to ponder an answer to his question. “Well… if-um… I-I do have questions…”
Bahamut chuckled, “I should hope so, or we would be sitting in silence as your time wastes away. Come, sit and I shall figure out what to fix us… My apologies, but my storage cavern has come to be a bit bare.” He led her back to the center and waved his hand to materialize a couple of antique chairs that glittered with gold in-lay against the keyhole fire that sported a roasting spit and a crockpot hanging off it.
“Oh, I did bring some cooking materials, if you should like for me to cook us a meal?”
“Hm? Hmmm… You did say you work in a tavern. I promise not to grope you if you should like to cook.”
“Hahah then it sounds like a fair trade.”
“So what question do you have for me?” Bahamut settled into a chair as he watched her go about preparing their meal for cooking.
“How did you materialize all of this just now?”
“Not difficult. All that you see has been resting within these piles of treasures you see around us or from my storage cave, and the ground is easy to manipulate as needed. I can bring forth, or change what exists based on need. Creating what is not already in existence takes far too much magick than I care to exert.”
“So you can create what you want?”
“Aye, but if I needn’t then I won’t.”
“Hm, if only Mages would follow such a simple method with their magick. They do so enjoy showing off, even at the expense of their own limitations.”
“Have they figured out how to change materials into valued metals?”
“Hah! No, though I have heard word that there still exists this Brotherhood of Alchemists that seek to make such a thing happen. Are you able to do such?”
Bahamut smirked with a short chuckle. “I feel no need for such for Ov’Rea produces metals in time through a large variety of natural methods, it is an ongoing matter beyond the eyes of all but us Dragoons. We were there when Ov’Rea came to life and watched the splendor of creation that was fast at first and has now slowed to a point that it’d take your lifetime to even bear witness to the ground creating valued deposits.”
“Oh…” Celine paused in wonder at that information, soon refocusing on adding dry and wet ingredients to the crockpot, placing two seasoned fowl meat on the spit rod to roast. “I am sure you know, but I have not heard any others speak of such matters in as simple a terms as you have.”
“You are correct and I am unsurprised. Many sentient beings have not the lifespan to know these truths, and those sentients what did know this truth have long since perished and their oral truths gone like the dust of a faded fallen tree.”
“As you have vaguely told me your ancient age, Bahamut… how did you come to rest inside Mount Fat Duck?” Celine sat down to rest, as it would be a good half hour before she needed to attend their food.
“Rest? Is that the belief of my curse this day?” He scoffed. “No, this is not a restful time for me. I was not completely honest with your ancestors when my presence was discovered here. I told them I’d not raze their little village at that time to the ground if they could provide me with a tenth of their harvest so I could protect them in times of destruction. There was a tiny loophole in my curse, you see, that allowed this pact with the village.”
“Protect? I was taught you’d destroy us should we not provide.”
“Hm, I suppose a misunderstanding through the generations came to happen. Bound to happen when matters are passed orally as opposed to written in stone.”
“So, what is your curse?”
“Tis a lengthy tale and seems we’ve luck that we have the time for me to tell the tale.”
“Aye.”
Bahamut smiled, leaning back in his chair as his eyes watched the flames licking their food, realizing it had been centuries since last he sat with a companion chatting and swapping tales over food and drink. Feeling nostalgic, he waved his hand to summon them goblets of water and parted his lips to begin his tale of the Dragoon Curse.