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Draconicon's Story Chapter 1: The First Decision

"I never thought that the war would end like this."

The black dragon mage stared at the battlefield just beyond Kopnack's walls. Banners of red wings and orange tails lay in rags among the dead, the smoke of the Empire's fires obscuring the count. Draconicon doubted they would ever have a final number. Too many had been disintegrated on the first assault, and those bodies that survived the waves of destruction wrought by the two armies would doubtless be mingled with other partial bodies, seared together by dragon fire.

It was slight consolation that the enemy had paid too dearly to finish the assault and climb Kopnack's walls. Slight consolation to the families and the survivors that hoped for revenge after their sister city of Holston had fallen. But they were alive, and they would treasure that.

Draconicon leaned against the edge of the wall, his arms folded on one of the surviving merlons along the battlement. Even with his seven foot height, he could barely manage the position with comfort, but he felt the view deserved attention. The wind blew over the city and towards the battlefield rather than the other way, the gusts of wind dying out as the other mages ceased feeding it energy. By nightfall, the smoke would be coming their way rather than flowing away. But for now, it laid bare all the travesties that both sides had allowed to happen in their latest war.

His gaze shifted from the piles of melted and ashen dead to the remnants of the Empire's army. The Dragon Empire had lost the battle to take Kopnack, but they would be back. Their surviving numbers could have taken the city if they'd managed to breach the walls. Twenty thousand lizard soldiers and another five thousand mercenaries would have been too much for them to stand against at the best of times, and with dragonfire at their back, they would have been unstoppable. Even the great domes, made to withstand aerial bombardment, would have cracked under that.

"I never thought it would end with so many dead and nothing gained."

"It wouldn't have ended with our lives if we weren't lucky."

He turned, arching an eyebrow at the doberman approaching the edge of the wall. Batana folded her arms as she took a similar position beside him, looking at the fields outside the city.

"We could have died today, Draconicon."

"A lot of us did."

"A lot of us didn't." The hood of her robe blew over her face for a moment, forcing her to tug it back down before she could continue. "A lot of us are still alive. And we'll stay alive, thanks to us."

"Yeah...thanks to us." He nodded towards the bodies. "Thanks to us melting, breaking, terrifying, and scorching who knows how many different soldiers. The Empire will have stories to tell tonight."

"Good. Maybe they'll think twice about annexing us next time."

He shook his head, though he didn't know if he could have expected anything else. The doberman was one of a very small number of battlemages. They'd been the force that had turned the tide in this fight and kept the Empire out when the militia had been on the verge of breaking. She was their leader...and his.

Batana patted his shoulder.

"You proved yourself today, you know. You stood against your own kind."

"My own kind is here."

"You know what I mean." Her fingers tightened, her claws puncturing his robes to rasp against his scales. "You're a dragon. There was always a chance you were an agent for them."

Suppressing a growl, he shrugged her hand off of him.

"Then it's a good time to get out."

"What? You can't be serious."

"I mean it, Batana. If the battlemages finally believe I can be trusted, then it's as good a time as any to get out. This war...I didn't want to fight in the first place, but it was fight or die. And we almost did."

"That's why we need you here!"

He shook his head, turning away from her. His claws clacked against the stone below as he walked away, only to be overwhelmed by her footsteps as she hurried to catch up.

"Draconicon, work with me here. We just won the war. We survived. But you know just as much as I do that this is just the start. They're going to be back -"

"Yes, and I'll fight then if I have to. But until then, I'm getting out of this. I'm not a warrior, I'm not a fighter. I just want...I want a regular life."

They descended from the wall, walking down stone steps that wound in a zigzag pattern to the wide streets below. Not so wide today, considering the destruction. Stone had been ripped from the smaller houses to form barricades through the streets, and the wounded were lined up in the shadows of domed towers to protect them from bombardment as they were healed. Soldiers that had been fighting along the walls mere hours ago slumped against each other, panting for breath. Most looked like they didn't believe the nightmare was over, only that it had paused like it had so many times over the last few weeks.

As he passed by, at least three soldiers jerked, lifting a blade or leveling a spear in the dragon's direction. It wasn't the battlemage robes that made them stop, or even the fact that he'd been fighting among them every time. It was only the sight of the doberman at his shoulder that made them put their weapons down. Whether they recognized him or simply believed him a prisoner of war, they considered him safe.

Safe. That was what their eyes said, he thought. It wasn't that he was trusted or that he was liked. It was that he was safe, under control.

They turned down Vixen's Row. The homes here fared slightly better than those around the gate, but not much. Doors were gone, the wood stripped down for makeshift arrows, and most had their windows removed as well. What that had been used for, even he didn't know.

Several families of foxes darted into their homes as the two of them walked down the streets. Whether it was their house or not didn't seem to matter; with all the connecting halls and covered paths that connected one home to another, he doubted it mattered. They just wanted shelter.

"Draconicon, please, listen to me. You're going to regret this."

"Why? What can I regret more than what we just did?"

"Turning your back on me."

He stopped, slowly turning in place to look at the doberman. She looked up at him, her eyes narrowed and fierce.

"I'm completely serious. You proved just how strong you are on that wall. I've never seen a better control of a barrier or faster lightning in my life. But you are still a dragon. Without the presence of the battlemages to help you, you're just another refugee here in the city. And you know how your kind does."

He did. He'd gone through it once already. Dragons were not well-liked in Kopnack, even before the war, and he doubted that opinion would be any better now.

"Do you remember what it was like for you before you joined the battlemages?"

"No, I think I forgot the muggings and vandalisms, but thanks for reminding me."

"Draconicon..." Batana sighed. "Look. You proved your worth to me. You showed me just how much of an asset you are to the city, and how much you can do for us."

"But?"

"But you are still a dragon. I trust you. Most of the other battlemages do, too. But nobody else will, unless we tell them."

You...bitch. The fact that she was right didn't escape him, but he couldn't stop the thought. If he remained with the battlemages, he would never need her recommendations. If he were to leave, he would never get it.

She didn't back down, no matter how hard he glared. If anything, she seemed to steel herself for a more aggressive reaction. She was afraid, he realized. And that, more than anything else, made his decision for him. He turned away from her, looking down the street. His tail twitched slightly, as did his wings.

"Thanks for the lessons, Batana. I would have liked it more if you'd simply given me the truth."

"I...Look, I -"

"I'll hand in my robes and my amulet in the morning. Goodbye."

She tried to grab him, but he shifted out of her grip, already halfway down Vixen Row before she got her balance back. The dragon turned into an alley, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Every muscle in his body was tense, and he wanted nothing more than to let loose and vent some of his anger. It took all of his willpower, and more than a little fear, to keep that urge in check.

There was no going back now, but he wouldn't take it back even if he could. After everything that he'd done, everything that he had sacrificed for his city, all they saw was the outside. All they saw were the scales of a dragon, the skin of their enemy. He had protected them, he'd given them everything he could. He'd held that damn wall, pushing back assault after assault of people that were following orders - no more and no less - and burned them from the face of the earth in the process. For the entire war, he'd done nothing less than give himself fully to Kopnack and its defense.

And what was his reward? A blatant warning that he could serve as a soldier or go back to what he was before. Homeless, hated, without friends or support. Batana would see to that. Head of the battlemages as she was, she wouldn't allow any of them to go against her order and help him. He was alone.

The dragon slumped to his knees, slamming his fists against the ground in impotent rage. It was just one slam, but it was enough to crack the ground in a two foot circle around his fists. He held himself there, his teeth clenched together so hard it hurt, and his eyes burned.

"What...what does it take?"

He stayed there for some time. His former boss never found him, so either she never bothered looking or she only put on a show for anyone watching. The light of the moon found him before anyone on two legs, and even then, he remained crouched there, letting out his fury in the form of hot tears.

When there were no more to give, he pulled himself to his feet. Stumbling along in the alley, he blinked his eyes dry before he stepped out on Wine Street. It was a short road with few buildings, but it was one of the few places he could go without being questioned.

A few foreigners that had been brave enough to enter a city besieged walked the streets as well. A few lizards from down south - possibly Imperial, but unlikely - as well as rodents from Maprin wandered from bar to bar along the street. Most looked as red as a sun-burnt rose, but others were still coherent enough to notice their surroundings. One mouse in particular jumped at the sight of him, opening his mouth.

"Dra-!"

Draconicon grabbed him by the throat and squeezed. The word died in the rodent's throat, replaced by a series of gags as the short mammal struggled in the arms of the taller dragon. Reaching into his robes, he pulled out his amulet. The sigil of a fireball and a shield, the sign of a battlemage, calmed the mouse immediately.

"Shut up. I'm just getting a drink, okay?"

He lowered the mouse to the street. With barely a nod, the rodent ran off, doubtlessly worried and going to report him. He was tempted to stop him again, but he decided against it.

No need to get arrested on my last night as a battlemage, he thought as he turned to the bar. The Drunk Dog was as bland a name as could be in this city, but several of his comrades had recommended it as a place to go if one wanted to get decent food with a bit of company. He doubted that the latter would come easily to him, but the food sounded good. At least he could get a distraction from how bad this day had turned out.

After putting his amulet on display, he pushed open the door.

The sounds of a happy tune played on a violin filled his ears, the melody drawing his lips up in an unconscious smile. A warm fog of candle-smoke and firelight lay across the room, throwing most of the place into shadow. Enough light remained for him to make out the dozen or so tables to his right in the open center of the room, as well as the smaller, more square tables along the wall. Most were empty, which seemed about right. With the war just recently ended, he imagined most people were connecting with their loved ones again and making sure that everyone was alright, not out drinking and getting themselves plastered.

There were enough people to notice someone coming in, however. A few foxes, a few mutts, and a tabby turned their heads from their food. Uniformly they stared in fear until they saw the amulet, and then they glanced in unease. Nobody seemed fully reassured.

Shaking his head, the dragon walked over to the bar. The bartender, a white furred feline, gave him a shaky smile.

"Not here for trouble, I hope?"

"No, just food. Just...just food, okay?"

"Alright. Cheese and bread alright?"

"Got any beef?"

"Ran out last week."

"Just bread and oil, then."

With a quick nod, the feline walked around the bar towards a swinging door. Draconicon heard a few shouts from the other end, but forced himself to ignore it. He laid his hands on the bar and laid his head on them, staring towards the stage.

He'd never heard of this local, but the vixen was a good musician. She played the violin with both a musical and visual flourish that he hadn't seen before, even going so far as to dance around the stage with a quick-step as she dragged her bow along the strings. Her clothes were flattering as well, consisting of a loose blue satin dress with a few bells along her ankles and neck. On some it might have looked silly, but it just added to her show.

She flashed the audience a smile, and he felt a bit of comfort from it. Yes, it was probably just a part of the show, but it was still a bit of warmth that he needed then.

"Bread and oil, sir."

He groaned as he pulled his head up, looking down at the plate and barely holding back a grimace. The bread looked harder than a rock, and the oil was minimal, barely providing a small coin sized dot on the side of the plate.

"It's all we have. The siege got rid of most of our stores, and -"

"I know, I know. I just...hoped for more."

"Ah, yes. Most of us do." The feline hesitated. "Anything...else?"

"I don't think so. Not unless you can point me towards a job other than being a battlemage."

"Ah, hmmm. I don't think - I mean, no disrespect intended. Why not -"

"Forget it."

"I mean -"

"Forget. It."

Holding up his hands defensively, the bartender hurried away. Though he'd kept his face fairly neutral, his puffed up tail showed his true feelings. The dragon sighed, regretting the moment immediately. The more he let his anger get in control, the more mistakes like this he was going to make. He needed to get his head on straight, or he was doomed.

He broke the bread in half, touching it lightly to the oil before taking a bite. It was just as hard as it looked, and he winced as he forced his teeth through it. Even the inside had toughened up, making it nearly impossible even for his jaws to get through the dense food. When his jaws finally met, they clicked together from the pressure, and he pressed his hand to his cheeks as he winced.

One bite followed another as he determinedly forced it down his throat. As he ate, the musician continued playing, providing the only happy part of his evening. He found himself bobbing his head back and forth to the sound of her songs, and even to the sound of the bells on her body as she danced. He didn't recognize any of the music, but there was a tone of happiness to all of them, some celebratory theme that was interlaced with the various notes. It brought a little hope to his heart, a little hope that things could be better.

By the time that he got up and paid for his meal, that music made him feel like he could take on the world. He gave the bartender an extra silver coin and asked him to pass it on to the vixen, in thanks for lifting his spirits. As he walked out, he paused at the door. She met his eyes for a moment, and he nodded in thanks.

#

Four Years Later...

I really should have kept that coin, he thought as he ducked a punch from a rottweiler.Maybe I'd have something to put these guys off attacking me then.

Then again, with the way that his life had gone, he doubted it would have made a damn bit of difference. Four years of being turned down, of being in and out of jail on the most ridiculous charges, of being knocked down and out, of having a noble capture him and drain some of his magic for an entire year into an amulet; it had not been good.

At least a gang fight was something that was more normal. He ducked under another punch, kicking the offending dog in the armpit and knocking him back. The rottweiler took advantage of an opening and punched him in the thigh, almost knocking the dragon to the ground.

"Give up, dragon! You and your kind are gonna die when the city's strong again. Might as well just kill yourself now."

"Yeah, look at you. We're beating your ass and we don't even have magic. How's your kind gonna take the city against us now, huh?"

He would have laughed if it wasn't so pathetic, and if he had breath in his lungs. The Dragon Empire had more people in one army camp than the militia had in the entire city. All the city had to defend itself were the walls, and next time the dragons came up from the south, they would know how to deal with that. The fact that these pups thought that they could actually attack the Empire was insane.

One of them kicked him in the stomach. He took the blow, grabbing the dog by the ankle in the process. His hands glowed.

"You want magic? Fine."

He unleashed a surge of it into the canine's leg and let go. The dog's heel hit the ground hard, smoking as a small fire started to burn the fur around the ankle and rapidly spread.

It did just what he wanted, distracting the rest of the gang as they tried to deal with the flame. Breaking out in a run, the dragon ran down the alley and leaped into the air. His wings unfurled and beat once, twice, carrying him out of reach of the gang members in short order.

He didn't fly far. After barely a block he dropped down to the street again, making sure to land in a more abandoned area. He panted softly, holding his hand against his chest as he leaned against a nearby building. The cool stone felt wonderful to his wings as he took stock of his injuries. It didn't take long to get them figured out. Nothing broken - which was a miracle - but there were some large bruises along his stomach and legs. Probably would develop into some new color splotches for a while.

Heh, maybe I'll look more like a lizard for a bit and this'll stop.

Shaking his head, he slowly slid down the building until he was seated. He stared up at the sky, the clouds dark and bunched together. Likely there would be rain tonight. Maybe enough for a bath, at that.

As he looked at the sky, the sound of footprints grabbed his attention. He was halfway to his feet when a calico cat walked around the corner. The feline smirked, but didn't get any closer. After a second, the dragon lowered his hands to his sides.

"What do you want?"

"Nothing. I just thought I'd stare at the broken old dragon."

He grumbled, shaking his head. Turning around, he started to walk away.

"Unless said dragon is looking for a job."

Job. A simple, three letter word that held so much meaning, and so much potential for trouble. Draconicon slowly turned around, looking at the cat.

"Keep talking."

"Ah ah ah, dragon. Now where are your manners? I'm offering you something you probably haven't even heard of for years. Are you telling me that you'd just mouth off at someone that was giving you something you need?"

"...No, but you haven't really made an offer yet..."

"Oh, and you think I will if you keep talking like this?" The cat chuckled, waggling a finger at him. "Naughty, naughty. Now, try that again, but better."

"...I am looking for a job, if you have one you can spare."

"Now that's better. Not quite what I want, but it's better."

The dragon growled low in his throat, too low for most species to hear as the calico walked over to him. Pulling a piece of paper from his pocket, the feline handed it over. Draconicon unfolded it and looked it over. It took him a few seconds to notice the battlemage sigil on it, but when he did he immediately folded it up again.

"If you're recruiting for them, I am not interested."

"You didn't even read it, did you?"

Admittedly he hadn't. He hesitated, then opened it again, taking a closer look.

_Dear Commato,

I am delighted to inform you that your daughter, Comnana, will be accepted into the ranks of the battlemages once she comes of age. Provided that she passes the entrance exam, I can almost guarantee that she will rise to a high officer rank. I look forward to seeing her progress. Please keep me informed._

Sincerely,

Batana

He folded it up and handed it back to the feline. The note disappeared into his pockets, and the dragon arched an eyebrow as he waited for an explanation.

"My daughter doesn't know any magic. I want you to teach her."

Two statements, two huge surprises. He wasn't sure which was the bigger one, that this Commato had managed to fool Batana about his daughter's potential, or that he wanted a dragon teaching her the basics. He shook his head a few times, trying to think of something to say.

"Oh, don't refuse so quickly, dear dragon. Just because it would be difficult doesn't mean that there wouldn't be compensations."

"Compen-..." He rubbed his head. "Why me?"

"Most people wouldn't remember the Battle of the Blackened Fields, but I do. My family followed it quite extensively. I know the names of everyone that was on the wall and acted as part of the defense. Including you, former battlemage Draconicon." The calico smirked. "I know how powerful you are. And I know how desperate you are. Which is why you'll likely take this job and never open your mouth, no matter what I ask you to do."

"And what would you be asking me to do?"

Chuckling, the feline reached around, grabbing him under the tail. The dragon went stone-still as the feline's fingers wandered around his rump, rubbing him and groping him.

"Oh, I imagine a number of things. My wife is so...conventional...and I have always wondered what a dragon would feel like under me." The dragon was spanked, hard. "Don't worry about compensation. I will pay you well for teaching my daughter and serving me. Free room and board, four gold coins a week, and my name as part of your protection. What do you have to lose, hmm?"

Besides his pride, not much. He was torn. On the one hand, he'd never done something like that, and he doubted that he wanted to submit to another male. On the other hand, this was the best job offer he'd had in years. The pay was even better than the battlemages had given him, and he doubted it would be all that difficult.

But dare he submit to something like this? Word could spread, after all, and he would never have his reputation back as it once was...

To Be Continued