Path of Dragons 16 - Chapter 32 - Holding Pattern (Patreon)

“You can go,” Imal said.

“You know I can’t,” Elijah countered.  It had been close to a month since the ill-fated assassination attempt, and though he’d not seen a repeat, he was still wary of leaving Imal and his friends alone.  Because of that, he’d stuck around the Vengeance, very much wanting to just go on a rampage.  He refrained, largely because he didn’t want to start killing people who probably didn’t deserve it.  Which was what would have happened, given that he had no idea who was ultimately responsible.

The coalition’s leadership – such as they styled themselves – had fallen all over themselves to appease him, offering him reparations for the failed assassination attempt.  As a result, he’d gained quite a lot of ethereum and some unique resources – both in terms of materials and the use of crafters – which he’d passed on to his friends.  Imal had gotten a pendant out of it, while Palikina had gotten a new dagger.

Of course, they’d made it clear that none of them had anything to do with it.  As if he was meant to believe that the assassins had decided to act alone. 

They obviously hadn’t.

But some of the leaders were innocent, which meant that Elijah had nowhere to aim his simmering frustration.  In reality, as close as the attempt had come to killing him, he wasn’t that angry.  Not really.  Instead, he was just annoyed.  And disillusioned.  And beneath it all, a little frightened.  Not for himself, but for his friends. 

For Imal, most of all.

She could take care of herself well enough, but he couldn’t quite discard the protective streak that told him to constantly look over her shoulder.  Either way, he’d mostly spent the past few weeks just hovering over his friends.

And brooding.

Mostly just brooding.

At present, that meant sitting in a restaurant booth.  On the other side of the room, a pair of musicians played instruments Elijah didn’t recognize, while a few patrons had cleared a bit of floor so they could dance.

“We can take care of ourselves,” Okar pointed out. 

Sitting in the corner of the booth with her knees pressed against her chest, Palikina just nodded her agreement. 

Furyo said, “I can’t.  Just for what it’s worth, if they try to assassinate me, I’ll probably just die.”

Alrhok added, “Me too.”

Elijah doubted that last statement.  As a non-combatant, Furyo was indeed more vulnerable than the fighters, but despite Alrhok’s current position, he was no non-combatant.  If someone tried to stab him, they’d probably end up breaking their knife.

Of course, that was assuming the would-be attackers were significantly less powerful than the ones who’d tried to kill Elijah.  If they were on that level, no one else at the table would survive. 

In truth, Elijah didn’t think he could stop anyone from acting.  Not directly.  But what he could do was hang out and make sure everyone was certain of the consequences of such actions.  If they killed one of his friends, he would go scorched earth.  The entirety of the Vengeance’s population would die by his hand.

Even if his enemies didn’t believe he could make that happen, they had to know that he could make a good go of it.  The death toll would be enormous.

He couldn’t prevent them from killing anyone, but he could take vengeance. 

And if they hurt Imal?  He wouldn’t stop at the people inside the ancestral world.  He would keep going until their entire clan fell.  That was the promise he’d made before the leaders of the various groups, and he’d made it clear that he meant every single word. 

Did they take him seriously?

Maybe not.  It would be a tall order to destroy clans headed up by deities and transcendents.  But Elijah had proven his potential to such a degree that his threat held at least a little truth to it.

And as the favored son of Prosperity, he would likely have the backing to make good on that vow. 

Hopefully, it wouldn’t be necessary.

Though with every passing day, Elijah felt increasing doubt.  The contentious situation in the Vengeance was just further proof that the Empire of Scale was broken.  The first hints had come during the Tournament of the First Fang, not only in the fact that cheating was accepted and almost encouraged.  But also because Elijah’s time outside of the tournament had laid bare the striated caste system, the unfairness that came with the so-called great clans, and the feigned ignorance of truly abominable acts.  Like what had happened to Sara.

Even if Cyran had been mind controlled, someone in charge should have chastised him for what he’d done.  Maybe that would have revealed the depth of Skahan’s mind control abilities.

But they didn’t want to know, and as a result, they let an assault slide by.

How Kaela had been treated by her own family should’ve sealed Elijah’s negative opinion, but he’d fooled himself into believing it was an isolated event.  Everyone had told him otherwise.  They’d said that it was an expected reaction.  But for whatever reason, he’d forced himself to ignore the implications.

Now that he’d seen how the dragons acted when they weren’t constrained by the Scales of Peace or the weight of potential revenge, their true natures had been revealed.

And finally, with increased familiarity came a demystification of dragons as a whole.  Sure, they were powerful – both individually and as a group.  However, what had become glaringly obvious was that they were no more evolved than anyone else.  Perhaps less, if anything.  They used their power to bully one another and, presumably, everyone else in their paths.

Elijah now saw them as they were, rather than as the surrounding myths labeled them.

It was a frustrating realization, and one that had taken years to form.  Yet, now that Elijah had begun to sit with it, he had become even more certain that it was the right take on draconic society. 

He did wonder if that was always the case, though.  Over the years, there had been many iterations of the Empire of Scale.  Were they always so broken?  Or was there something different about this one? 

“You can’t just ask the Vaels for help?” asked Okar.  The question was directed at Alrhok, and it came accompanied by a little venom.  Okar still hadn’t forgiven Alrhok for joining Skahan’s clan, even if it was only as a hired hand. 

Alrhok shook his head, pretending he didn’t see the resentment there.  “They’ve all but abandoned me,” he admitted.  “My boss died during the exodus, which cut me loose.  My contract is still valid, but nobody really gives me any tasks.”

“So, what have you been doing?” Furyo asked.

Alrhok shrugged, then revealed that he’d been working more and more with the K’levehars.  They hadn’t accepted him like he was one of theirs, but they had at least given him some responsibility.  It was enough to give him some hope that he’d gain the feat he needed to obtain a hybrid class. 

“Even if it doesn’t, the relationships I’ve made here will help me going forward,” he explained with a shrug of his massive shoulders.  “Maybe they’ll even adopt me into the clan.”

“You would abandon your family?” asked Imal.

His expression hardened.  “They abandoned me first.”

That wasn’t entirely true.  They still gave him enough money to establish himself.  And they had made it clear that if he accomplished his goals – as unlikely as they considered it – they would welcome him back with open arms.  Until that very moment, Elijah had assumed that was Alrhok’s plan.

Now, it seemed clear that Alrhok intended to follow a different path. 

Had the wound of his family’s lack of support really cut so deep?  Or was it because of how they’d treated Kaela?  They had been close, after all.

Despite putting on a brave face, Alrhok was clearly still adrift.  Maybe things would go well for him with the K’levehar clan.  Elijah hoped so, if only for his friend’s sake.

After that, it wasn’t long before their meal arrived.  Someone had killed a giant bison-like creature only a few days before, giving the Chefs and Cooks plenty of material with which to work.  Since then, everyone had been treated to a wide variety of meaty dishes ranging from stews and soups to giant hunks of steak that went particularly well with the mushrooms and subterranean vegetables the Farmers grew within the Vengeance. 

“You know what I miss most?” Elijah mused, cutting into his steak.  It was just fatty enough to be flavorful, but not so rich that he had to go easy on the quantity.  “French fries.”

“What are those?” asked Palikina.

Elijah then described the joy of deep fried potatoes, adding, “I tried to get the Cooks to do something similar, but the tubers they were using as a substitute didn’t work quite right.”

“The way you describe them makes me want to give them a try,” Okar remarked, popping a purple carrot-like vegetable into his mouth. 

“Well, you’re invited to Earth after all this is done,” Elijah said.  Then, he looked from one person to another. “You all are.  I can show you around to all the best restaurants.  And just wait until you try butter.”

After that, he had to explain exactly what it was, which prompted a few gagging responses.  Milk wasn’t entirely unheard-of in the Empire of Scale.  Nor was something like butter.  Elijah had had it when he was in Ashakar.  But it just wasn’t the same as what he’d had back on Earth – probably because it was made from oil rather than milk.

After all, dragons were mostly reptilian.  Warm blooded, sure.  But reptilian all the same. And most of the animals – domesticated or otherwise – within the empire followed that pattern.  Milk just didn’t exist for most of the people who’d grown up in that environment.

Whatever the case, the others did not take his description well.  So, they didn’t seem as enthusiastic about cheese and other dairy products as they were about trying French fries.

Not terribly surprising, but still disappointing.

Because butter and cheese were amazing.  Anyone who said otherwise was patently wrong.  Even lactose intolerant people wished they could enjoy the greatness of dairy products.

That thought did make him question whether such an intolerance actually existed now that magic had joined the intestinal party.  It would be a great tragedy if ethera could extend a person’s life but not let them experience dairy without dire consequences.

“What are you thinking about?” asked Imal.  The others had broken away into separate conversations, leaving the pair alone in the booth. 

“The unfairness of dairy as a staple.”

For a second, Imal just looked at him like he’d gone insane.  But then, she let out a melodious laugh. 

“It’s a serious issue,” he insisted.

“I’m sure it seems that way to you,” she replied, patting him on the arm. 

He sighed, crossing his arms.

“Don’t pout.”

“I’m not pouting.”

With a slight grin, she narrowed her eyes in disbelief.  But Elijah wasn’t about to let that derail his self-delusion. 

Imal glanced toward where Furyo was drunkenly dancing with Palikina.  Neither could dance very well, and they both seemed extraordinarily awkward.  Palikina kept her eyes down, while Furyo’s movements bordered on robotic.  However, neither dragon looked as if they wanted to leave the dance floor.

There were other dancers, but they were much more graceful.

Meanwhile, Okar and Alrhok stood at the edge of the dance floor cheering them on.  That just made them more uncomfortable.  To Elijah, it looked as if Alrhok’s excitement was put on, like he was playing a role that everyone expected him to play.

Maybe he was.

Elijah had gotten the feeling that Alrhok’s situation was much more precarious than he’d described.  Doubtless, he’d begun to question his choices. 

After all, even if he took a combat class for his deity evolution, he wouldn’t necessarily have to fight.  He could remain at that same level and work as a guard or in some ceremonial capacity within his family.  It wouldn’t be a very rewarding life, but it would be much easier than changing his path.

That had to be on his mind.

“How long do you think this will last?” Imal asked.

“What?”

“The peace.  The quiet.  Whatever you want to call it.”

Elijah shrugged, putting his arm around Imal.  “I don’t know,” he admitted.  Even if the peace between the dragon clans remained intact, the orcs were still out there.  Everyone else seemed to think that they’d been defeated.  That they would remain near the core, licking their wounds. 

Elijah didn’t believe that for a second.

“I guess we just need to embrace it while we can,” he said after a few more moments.  Then, he pulled her closer.  “And when we get out of here, we’ll head to Earth.  I think we’ve both earned a vacation.”

Only a second later, a klaxon sounded throughout the Vengeance.  The musician immediately stopped playing.  For a long moment, no one else reacted.  But then, the realization settled in.

An enemy had been spotted, and the alarm was calling everyone in the Vengeance to defend it from the threat.

Orcs?  Some powerful beast?  One of the remaining clans?  No one knew.

Once everyone recognized the situation for what it was, they sprang into motion.  No one panicked. Instead, they rushed toward the door and out into the massive chamber.  Elijah and his friends were no different, but soon enough, they split up.  Elijah and Okar headed toward the closest exit, Palikina disappeared, and Furyo followed Imal toward the command center.

Soon, Elijah and Okar emerged into open air to see a massive dark splotch in the distance.  It stretched across the entire horizon, its nature indiscernible to the naked eye.  However, neither Elijah nor Okar needed to see the details to know what it represented. 

The same was true of the other veterans who’d emerged behind them.  They had all fought orcs, and they recognized an oncoming fleet when they saw one.

“That’s a lot of ships,” muttered Okar.

“More than we’ve fought at any other time,” Elijah agreed.

Indeed, it seemed larger even than the fleet that had surrounded the Gilded Reach.  Bigger than all the fleets Elijah had encountered combined.

It seemed the orcs had chosen to stop holding back.

“Do you think that’s all of them?” asked Okar.

Elijah shook his head.  “I hope so.”

Because if there were more out there, he and the dragons didn’t stand a chance.