Cornelius ascended the narrow staircase to his private quarters aboard his father's galleon. The room, lavishly appointed, contrasted starkly with the austere functionality of the ship. Against the far wall, a sleek metallic case bearing the insignia of Yudrosil's finest tech guild housed his racing suit—a masterpiece of engineering designed for sand dragon racing.
The suit, a composite of high-tech fibers and cushioned panels, was engineered for maximum protection and mobility. Its outer layer, shimmering with a metallic sheen, caught the morning light filtering through the porthole. Methodically, Cornelius donned the suit, its interior cool against his skin, sealing with a soft hiss.
Admiring his reflection, he noted the suit’s snug fit, designed more for armor than attire, a divergence from the traditional gear of the Shaking Reefs’ racers. Satisfied, he descended to the deck where Kayla awaited, toolkit in hand.
"Well, if it isn’t Cornelius the Conqueror," Kayla quipped as she surveyed his ensemble. "Planning on storming a fortress or just racing a sand dragon?"
Grinning, Cornelius struck a pose, "It’s state-of-the-art. My father insisted on the best protection."
Circling him, Kayla tapped the suit’s padded elbow. "Looks like you're ready to be shot out of a cannon. How much does all this weigh?"
"Not as much as you’d think," he replied, demonstrating the suit’s flexibility. "It’s designed for mobility, shock-absorbent, and heat-resistant."
"Heat-resistant is good," Kayla laughed. "But you look ready for volcano spelunking. Let’s hope your dragon can handle the extra padding. Wouldn’t want to dig you out of a dune."
With a muffled laugh, Cornelius responded, "Maybe I can streamline it a bit with your help."
"Great," she gestured towards the ramp. "There’s a training area just outside town. Perfect spot to get a real feel for—have you named it yet?"
"What?" Cornelius looked perplexed.
"A name, Cornelius. You need to name it."
Considering briefly, he admired the dragon’s icy paint. "Back home, there's a myth about a creature made of ice called the Frost Wyrm."
"Frost Wyrm it is. Now come on, I want to get started before the dunes get hot."
The journey to the training area was quiet, the hum of the sand dragon's engine a steady backdrop to Cornelius's focused demeanor. Navigating out of the port with the Frost Wyrm was slow going; the curious stares and murmured speculations of the townsfolk made Cornelius tense, but Kayla’s assured presence calmed the murmuring crowd. As they left the cobblestone streets behind, the terrain shifted. Buildings gave way to open desert, where the true nature of the Shaking Reefs revealed itself in undulating dunes and sparse vegetation. Kayla had already parked the Ruby nearby and brought it out from where she hid it before explaining what Cornelius was seeing.
The area Kayla had chosen was a wide, open expanse bordered by gentle dunes to the north and rocky outcrops to the south. The ground was a tapestry of sand and stone, offering varied terrain that would test both the rider and the machine. Sparse vegetation dotted the landscape, mostly hardy shrubs that had adapted to the harsh conditions of the Reefs. Numerous magnetic stone markers bordered the area, keeping it marked.
"Welcome to the Training Grounds. The stones you see are Markers, made of the same stuff that allows the Dragons to move. They also happen to keep this area relatively flat thanks to some old tech." She propped herself onto the Ruby and let it glide her down gently into the grounds.
"Alright, Cornelius," Kayla called out, her voice echoing slightly off the metal hull of the Frost Wyrm. "Let’s keep this simple. Don’t try to show off and flatten yourself into a desert pancake."
Cornelius, strapped in and somewhat less enthusiastic about his impending pancake status, gave a nervous chuckle. "Noted," he replied, thumbing the ignition. The Wyrm roared to life, a sound far crisper than the throaty grumbles of its local counterparts.
Kayla stepped forward, her gaze fixed on the machine. "First lesson: these beasts don’t like hesitance. Be firm, be smooth," she tapped the Frost Wyrm. "It’s like dancing—you lead, and it follows."
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Cornelius nodded, swallowing his apprehension as he gently nudged the throttle. The Frost Wyrm jerked forward ungracefully, kicking up a plume of sand behind it. "Smooth, Cornelius, not sedated!" Kayla shouted over the noise, a smirk playing on her lips.
Regaining his composure, Cornelius adjusted his grip, easing the Dragon into a more fluid motion. He began to circle the perimeter of their makeshift arena, the machine’s movements becoming less jerky as he grew accustomed to its rhythm.
Kayla kept pace alongside, her boots thudding softly in the sand. "Alright, now try some basic maneuvers. I want S-turns, not zigzags. Imagine you’re water, flowing around rocks, not a pinball."
"Fluid, got it," Cornelius called back, his voice tinged with concentration. He leaned into the curve, the Wyrm's side nearly brushing the ground as he executed a sweeping arc. The machine responded beautifully, its design optimized for such graceful, flowing movements.
"Better! Much better!" Kayla approved from a distance, her communicator crackling slightly as she relayed instructions. "Now, let’s test its climbing skills. See that dune there? I want you up and over before you can say ‘sandwich’."
Cornelius approached the dune, the Wyrm’s engines whining in protest as he pushed it to climb. Sand sprayed outwards as the tires struggled for grip, but eventually, the Dragon crested the dune, teetering for a moment at the top before sliding down the other side.
"Sandwich!" Cornelius yelled triumphantly as he stabilized the Dragon at the base of the dune.
Kayla couldn’t suppress a laugh. "I’ll give you that one, but let’s hold off celebrating until you can do it without sounding like you’re about to meet your maker."
They continued like this for a while, Cornelius growing more adept with each instruction. The Frost Wyrm seemed to glide under his control, responding well to his increasingly confident touches.
As the training session wore on, Kayla introduced more complex tasks—tighter turns, sudden stops, and even a mock slalom course using aged barrel markers. "Think of them as very stationary, very silent opponents," she quipped.
Cornelius maneuvered the Wyrm with growing assurance, weaving between the barrels with the ease of a seasoned rider, his earlier hesitations replaced by a focused determination. He was beginning to understand the dance, the partnership between rider and machine that Kayla had spoken of.
Eventually, Kayla held up her hand, signaling a break. Both trainer and trainee were coated in a fine layer of sand, the desert’s signature embrace. Cornelius powered down the Frost Wyrm, hopping off with a grin.
"Not bad for a mainlander," Kayla admitted as they walked over to a shaded area for a rest. "You might not win pancake of the year after all."
Cornelius laughed, pulling a water bottle from his pack. "I aim to surprise."
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the only sound the distant calls of desert birds and the soft whir of the Frost Wyrm cooling down. "So, what’s next?" Cornelius asked, wiping sand from his goggles.
"Next? We make you race-ready," Kayla said, standing and dusting off her hands. "You’ve got the basics down. Now we refine them. Make them instinct."
Cornelius nodded, a mix of nerves and excitement dancing in his eyes. "And then?"
"And then you race. You show them what you’ve got," Kayla said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Let’s see if we can turn that pancake joke into a legend, huh?"
Cornelius smiled, buoyed by her confidence. "Let’s."
As they resumed training, the sun began its descent, casting long shadows over the sand. The Frost Wyrm, now just a bit less alien in Cornelius’s hands, seemed almost eager, its engines purring smoothly as they headed out for another round of drills.
They spent the rest of the morning practicing, Cornelius growing more adept with each pass until the movements of Ymir seemed like second nature to him. When they finally called it a day, the sun was high and fierce, and they were both coated in a fine layer of dust.
"Same time tomorrow?" Cornelius asked as they prepared to leave.
"Absolutely," Kayla confirmed. "We’ll start refining your speed and timing. Races aren’t won just on skill but on knowing the track and your dragon."
Cornelius removed his helmet and placed it on the padded seat of the Frost Wyrm to free up his hands as he climbed out of the training area with Kayla. He remained a ways away, a question burning on his tongue. When he finally gained the courage to ask, he walked faster, slipped on the dune, and face-planted. The free Frost Wyrm slowly descended back down as its owner sat up and spat the iron-rich sand out of his mouth. He could hear Kayla’s laugh, a much heartier and deep laugh, grow louder as she came back to help him up to his feet.
“What did you do that for?”
“I didn’t do it on purpose! Oh, you’re teasing me again.”
“Uh oh, you’re learning.”
He rolled his eyes and patted himself off. “I wanted to ask you if you would come to the ship for dinner tonight.”
Kayla’s smile disappeared. “What? Why?”
“My father’s head staff is going to be meeting with him tonight. I wanted to have someone there I could talk to. If that’s alright.”
Kayla mulled it over, thinking. “Fine. When?”
Cornelius smiled wide with relief “Sunset, on the galleon. The guards can help you get to the dinning room from the deck.”
Kayla nodded, turned, and left; taking the opportunity to get away while Cornelius was stuck grabbing his bike. She had an idea, and needed to find her friends.