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The mountains loomed over the pair. Ailmer arched up, pouring over a hand-drawn map stretched out in front of him. He held it up, carefully checking the position of the sun to various carefully rendered landmarks and directions. Beroan looked up from chasing a butterfly across the clearing to watch the human ponder. "Don't we have to see the stars with the way you make your maps?" He asked.

Ailmer shook his head, confirming the path a few more times from the map and the sun before rolling the parchment. "No. I've pretty well translated locations onto the maps I've charted out. Can't see far enough during most nights to pick out any landmarks or anything, either."

Beroan nodded, hopping around to sniff at a flower before he joined back up with Ailmer. The mage led the way as he picked his way carefully through the forest. They'd left any well-travelled pathways far behind them by this point, leaving them tromping through the grass and underbrush through the mountains. "How much longer?" Beroan asked.

"Should the terrain stay as even as it has been, it should only be an hour or so before we get close."

"Close to what?"

"Probably a cave of some sort, maybe a canyon or something that would lead into the mountain." Ailmer said, looking up at at the rocky vistas on the steep walls of the mountains around them.

Beroan nodded quickly, bounding back and forth in front of Ailmer instead of slowing down to the human's pace. Ailmer chuckled, a slight smile stretching up at the corners of his mouth as the dragon played in front of him. "You're full of energy today, aren't you?"

Beroan glanced up with his tail wagging. "Mhm. I'm excited."

Ailmer chuckled. "Excited about what?"

Beroan paused, but only for a moment or two before he began his restless hiking. "Well, finding things. Like the entrance to this place. It's a little adventure, and I've been getting squirmy staying around the mill for so long."

Ailmer nodded. "Well, it wasn't like I held you there or anything. You could have played around in the woods if you wanted to."

Beroan nodded quickly. "Well, yeah, but you needed me there."

Ailmer almost stumbled. Beroan missed the motion, his attention distracted by some interesting plant growing off a fallen log beside their path. Ailmer had composed himself by the time the drake looked back. "I guess I did. Thank you, Beroan." He admitted.

Beroan nodded, slowing down a touch to stay a little bit closer to the mage. "I'm also excited to hear about Marlin.

Ailmer's smiled soured. "It is not a story for excitement."

Beroan nodded, though he still looked up at Ailmer expectantly. Ailmer sighed, trying to fight off his heavy heart, and began.

"Marlin and I met when we were young. I was a stupidly fearless young man that was barely old enough to hold my mead and Marlin was a similarily young and naive dragon. For some reason, Marlin saved my life when I stumbled into a bears territory, and I saved his by patching him up afterward--much like you, in fact. Through that experience, fate saw fit to bind us together. Upon touching, or…Well, we couldn't quite figure out how it worked, but we found ourselves magically bound together. It was an imistakeable feeling. We shared thoughts, feelings, magic, all the things that stories go into about it.

It was already odd. To this day I have never heard of another binding, at least between humans and dragons, that happened so far away from any other drakes; even the bindings that still ahpped with the dragonriders can only happen when the dragons are all gathered together. I had always thought it had something to do with needing enough magic in an area to trigger it, but…

Either way, we were bound and we knew it instantly. Marlin was, honestly, glad for it. He had been exiled from his clan several years before for…No. I am sorry, I can't--It is not mine to say. I did not mind, either. I suppose I fell in love with him almost instantly and the shared feelings only heightened that. I am going to leave it at that, though. Given what we've done, I am sure you could extrapolate anything you want to from that simple admittance of love.

So. The call to action came. There was a conscription, and after a series of dangerous misunderstandings, I found that there were several other mages that had found themselves bound to the drakes; they came, however, from a ritualistic bonding ceremony that had been practiced between a particular mage's group's tradition and the Krithath, or the 'desert scale' clan. They are still the largest clan that openly lives in Galast; that ritual is now a large peice of Halin's harvest festivities in the capital. They call it the dragonrider's binding now, but the fine points of that are a story for another time.

Point being, Marlin and I ended up at the head of an experimental organization. I became the First Scout of the Galast Army, a title that I don't think has been given since and headed the dragon riders. We served as scouts and battlemages.

Yes. We fought, a lot. Astal has many horror stories about my wing. I was young, nationalist, and still found glory desireable. I still regret much of the flame I threw in the smaller wars preceding the gem wars, though I don't think it could have gone any other way. Suffice it to say that the dragon riders are still a large part of the military, and Galast still invests heavily in its battlemages.

However, even among some of the best mages and the other bound dragonriders, Marlin and I had something special. It seemed we tapped fully into each other's magic reserves. I could draw on any of his threads, and he could reach for mine. I suppose there is a reason that the dragonrider's academy is synonomous with the mage's college. It seemed to be somewhat similar to the other bound pair's increased magical aptitude, but Marlin and I were significantly more powerful. So, the two of us were the first choice to combat the Ikthil when they began to emerge from the southern canyons when the gem wars began. I'll finish that history later, though, I think we've found the place."

Beroan blinked, shaking his head a bit as he glanced around the hillside as he realized how far they'd gone while he was distracted. A larg cliffside peeked out of the sheer face of the next hillside, the craggy rock face a sharp change from the forested, though steep, hillsides. The rough texture of the granite wall hid divots and cracks in its face. Rock layed half buried in the softer dirt at the face of the cliffs in huge boulders and large chunks. It looked as iff there had been a large overhang that had finally worn off a very long time ago. As Beroan traced his eyes up to find that point, Ailmer pointed up. "There, about a third of the way up. It looks like a half-buried cave, maybe."

Beroan followed the line up to the cavern. A dark opening split through the rock, though it looked like it should be much larger than it was. Large stones blocked most of the entrance, the cave partially collapsed. The stones facing out had signs of weather wear, dating the collapse far back in time. Ailmer chuckled to himself as the dragon's eyes lit up. The drake was immediately curious, as Ailmer had expected. "Here, take this up when you check the cave. Just wrap it around a big rock, like this or so." Ailmer said, pulling a looped coil of rope from his pack, his arms held apart to show the appropriate size of stone.

Beroan nodded, tail wagging as he took the coil, examining the lasso loop that had been tied on the other side. He took to the sky easily, the dragon almost leaping up to the cave's entrance. With a quick scrabble that showered pebbles down on the ground below him, he disappeared into the cavern. After a few minutes, the other end of the rope flew out of the cavern, unraveling in the air to bounce against the cliff wall. Ailmer slung his pack back on, giving the rope a few tugs before he started to clamber up the wall.

Ailmer arrived in the cave, panting and grunting as he forced his arms to pull him up over the pile of rubble. "Ah, gods, I am not the scout I used to be." He managed, pawing at the rocks before he hauled himself up into the cave. Beroan blinked, looking at him expectantly as he dismounted the other side of the rock pile, dusting himself off as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. "What do you mean?" Beroan asked.

"I used to be much more fit. I wouldn't have thought twice about that climb with a pack twice as heavy. At least this might be the place. It's deep enough to hold something. I can't even see the end from here."

"You can't? It's not that far back until it turns." Beroan said, hopping down deeper into the cave.

"Beroan, wait, I…Flames." Ailmer sighed, doubled over as he tried to recover his breath.

The dragon was already cloaked in the cave's twilight-like darkness. Ailmer took another breath to steady his heart rate before he followed, waiting until he was sure there was enough air left in the cavern before lighting a torch.

Beroan had already disappeared around the corner, leaving Ailmer to follow. He turned the corner, squinting as he peered into the inkier darkness deeper in the cavern, squinting to peer inside. He walked slowly, careful to watch for any hint that the tunnel had weakened with age. The walls and ceiling seemed solid, though he had to duck a few inches at times.

Thankfully, he could feel a draft from deeper inside the cavern. He pulled a torch, quickly lighting the pitch-soaked stick with flint and the back of his knife. The dancing light lit the rock cave as he pushed further in until the cave terminated in a large room.

Beroan was already there, bouncing around on the soft sand that covered the floor. A fissure in the back of the room explained the draft. The room was large enough to give Beroan plenty of space to scamper about, darting quickly from the scratched carvings on one side of the cavern to a half-broken pile of wooden junk on the other. "Ailmer, Ail! Lookit this, this is so weird. It looks like this'd be a great place for a nest, but I can't smell any dragons anymore."

Ailmer nodded, walking over to the carved wall. "It looks like it hasn't been used in…Centuries, if I wanted to try to place it. Wood takes a long time to rot in caves like this, and all the stuff over there looks pretty well preserved, if smashed."

Beroan nodded quickly, hopping back over to sit down and watch as Ailmer examined the wall. Runes and pictographs were scratched into the wall. Ailmer could read a handful--they looked almost like some of the dragon's claw-writing, but far, far older. Ailmer wanted to say 'primitive', but it was much more careful and the script seemed more elaborate than current dragon writing. Even the runes he recognized seemed like the precursors to the current runes. "Well, what does it say?" Beroan asked.

Ailmer shook his head. "I can read a few words, but the script is very old. I think this one says… Fire? Or run, maybe escape? Over here, this one is really similar to the current one that means hero or valor, I think."

"You can read dragon claw-script?"

"I was bound to a dragon and we did our share of study. I can read it rather well, though it is harder since…"

"Can you speak draconic, too? So the song-"

"The song was beautiful. It has been a very long time since I have heard a dragon sing--I had forgotten what it was like. I know it is not my place, but I would love to hear the rest of their journey." Ailmer said.

Beroan nodded slowly, squirming a little on the ground. Ailmer could have sworn he saw a hint of a blush on the drake's earfins, but it could also have been a trick of the firelight. He chuckled, setting the torch down against the wall as he pulled out a few sheets of parchment and a charcoal stick, laying the paper against the wall, rubbing the charcoal across it to make an impression. Beroan quickly found himself enthralled by the process, watching carefully as Ailmer transferred the runes to the paper, carefully rolling them back up after he filled each one. There were enough runes to fill three large sheets. Ailmer managed to spot a few more words that he recognized, but nowhere near enough to get any meaning from the story.

The runes packed carefully in his bag, the mage straightened up to go look through the rest of the cave. Beroan carefully snuffled along behind him, making a show of his own examination. About halfway through he paused, digging into the sandy floor of the cavern. "What did you find, Beroan?" Ailmer asked.

Beroan waited to answer, scratching away the sand as he chased a glint he'd seen out of the corner of his eye. A few more swipes through the dirt brought it back up to the surface and he plucked out a glittering scale from the sand. Ailmer leaned down, holding the torch a bit closer. "Good find. Dragon scale?"

Beroan nodded, carefully turning the thumbnail-sized scale in his fingers. "Kinda big, maybe off the side or neck, maybe. It's gold, though, a really shiny gold. I don't think I've ever seen a dragon this color."

Ailmer nodded, leaning in to examine the old scale closely. A small crack ran up one side, a mark of its age, but the outside was gold. It was not the yellow that most 'gold' dragons were, but it looked almost like it had been dusted with gold metal. It shined in the firelight as Beroan turned it slowly in his fingers. "You're right. It looks, well, like gold. That's…very strange. I don't think I've ever seen a dragon with scales that brilliant."

Beroan huffed, looking a bit put off. Ailmer held back a chuckle. "Well, I'm sure with enough polish, yours could shine like that too. They are a very beautiful green." Ailmer assuaged.

Beroan nodded quickly, handing the scale to Ailmer. Ailmer took a few more moments to examine the scale, though Beroan was already bounding over to the pile of artifacts, eager for the promise of more discovery. Ailmer followed him quickly, looking over the pile of wood.

A few things instantly stood out to Ailmer. There wasn't the usual branches and other natural things that dragons often constructed their nests from, this was actual furniture. It was broken, surely, but Ailmer spotted a table among the scraps, as well as what could only be a chest. Beroan blinked a few times as he spotted the same. "Did humans used to live in this cave?" He asked

Ailmer shook his head. "I doubt it."

"So where did this stuff come from?"

"I don't know." Ailmer said.

ailmer reached in, starting to sort through the pile. Most of it was kindling by. It was fragile, too, the mummified, ancient wood flaking off as ailmer touched it--the outside layers were more akin to dust than wood. It was remarkably well preserved, however, for as long back as Ailmer had placed the age of the cave. However, he was really mostly interested in the chest. He worked his way over to it, taking his time to examine the wooden box. The latch was a mass of rust--when Ailmer tugged it, it was obvious that the box would give far before the metal would. It didn't matter, however, considering that the top of the box was caved in from the way that the table had been thrown on top of it.

Ailmer cleared the wood from the top of the box, carefully removing a chunk from inside the box. He pulled it back before he suddenly noticed something strange. He pressed the chunk of wood against where it ought to have gone on the box, his eyebrows scrunching. "It's seamless." He stated.

"What?" Beroan asked.

"It looks like it was carved in one piece out of a tree or something. It wasn't made with slats like the barrels I have, the whole thing is just one piece."

Beroan blinked a bit. "How'd they manage that?"

Ailmer looked over the box, leaning down to blow gently over the front to try to get a look at the grain of the wood. It didn't agree with him, however, the grain was too flat to have come from the center of a tree. "They must have had very large trees that long ago. I don't know."

Beroan nodded, though his interest in the wooden box was waning. "Well, what would a dragon want with a chest?"

Ailmer pulled the chunk of wood out, setting it aside as he looked into the chest, clearing out some more debris. "Well, same as anyone else. To put things in, I suppose."

Beroan nodded, peering into the box as Ailmer cleared it out. His eyes caught the glint before Ailmer's did. The inside of the box was still cloaked in shadow for the human, though Beroan's eyes pierced the darkness much more easily. He reached in, grabbing a large chunk of gold to carefully pull it into the light.

Ailmer's jaw dropped. The artifact glittered in the firelight--a chunk of gold the size of his fist had been buried in the dust and wood, formed into an intricate astrolabe. The navigational tool was twisted in a way that could only be intentional. Careful runed script adorned the tool, while a pair of intricately carved dragons twisted around the three-dimensional arms of the tool. A lever in the center tilted in a strange manner, linking to all three of the runed arms, letting the shelf align with measurements marked by the same style of ancient script that adorned the wall. The measuring arm itself was adorned by a pair of coiled dragons. Stylized stars adorned the rest of the tool, giving it texture wherever it didn't have runes or dragons. "Sikthil take me now." Ailmer managed.

"It's beautiful." Beroan managed, his eyes locked on the golden astrolabe.

"I've never seen anything like it. I've seen crowns with less gold." Ailmer said.

"What is it?" Beroan asked.

Ailmer took a deep breath, reverently reaching into the golden claws to carefully turn the shelf. "It looks like an astrolabe--Mariners use it to measure the exact height of the sun or a star to navigate by. It is usually just a disk, though, I've never seen one with three arms."

"Maybe it could help with your star maps?" Beroan said.

"Maybe. It would make sense, given the decorations, but I have no idea how to use it, or even read it." Ailmer admitted.

Beroan nodded, his eyes still locked on the strange device. His tail flicked as Ailmer moved the shelf, three nubs moving to mark out places on their respective arms. They both spent several minutes enthralled by the device before Ailmer moved, settling down on the sand. He set the torch against the wall again, well away from any marks on the walls and the pile of wood. "Lunch, then?" Ailmer asked.

Beroan blinked a bit, taking a moment to pull his attention away from the device that Ailmer had carefully placed in the sand. "Oh! Yes. Very yes, I've been hungry. Will you finish your story, then?" Beroan said, plopping himself down beside the mage.

Ailmer nodded, pulling a few carefully wrapped parcels from his pack. He tossed one to Beroan, carefully unwrapping his to lay the parchment on the ground, while the dragon simply drug a claw through the package to get to his. A slight smile graced the sides of Ailmer's mouth as he watched the drake open up the rations--exactly the same way that Marlin had so many times before, and he began again.

"How fitting, then. To tell this part of the story in a long forgotten dragon's cave. Where was I…Well, I suppose it started when the Ikthil started to emerge from the southern canyons, the Mazelands. They poured out north into Galast, and south into the lands there. They were in the smaller towns before we even knew what was happening, and by the time I had effectively scouted and figured out the threat, they were deep into the country. Thankfully, we were still heavily mobilized from the previous war, and our army met them as quickly as we could have hoped. Several towns were struck from the maps before we could mount our warriors.

I still remember those early scouting missions. It was terrible. Marlin and I would arrive at town after town and there would be nothing but destroyed buildings and dead bodies. Town after town was like this, we even found those running slaughtered on the roads. We had many close calls, but we quickly learned how to fight the gem monsters and brought back our knowledge to the rest of Galast's finest.

Once our army met them, we began to halt their approach. The first few engagements were…They were a learning experience. We had a few messy engagements starting out before we managed to adjust our tactics to combat the feral strategy that the Ikthil use. Marlin and I were there for most of the major engagements. The middle section of the war began to blur together halfway through. I could not tell you where Marlin and I fought or how many engagements we found ourselves in, but I can say that we could count the full nights of sleep we got those two years on the fingers of one hand.

Finally, we started to beat them back. They hadn't managed to take more land in a long time, and we felt like we were close to breaking them. However, as we were planning for splinter groups and how the Ikthil would rout, or even if they would, when they took us by surprise.

Marlin and I were out on a routine scout when we found them. Instead of the engagements we had been planning for, we found them gathering almost every last one of their number into a single army. We brought the news back and we prepared to meet them.

We had few things on our side. A significant amount of our armies were spread out, expecting to have to deal with those groups splintering and trying to push around the bulk of our forces. We had… We had the 1st, 3rd, and half of the 7th army with us, as well as a modest contingent of the 7th's mounted warriors. We numbered in the thousands, on very advantageous ground.

They outnumbered us three to one, and we had none of our armies set up behind us. We could not let them break through, not in those numbers. We stood our ground and we set up for the day and a half the Ikthil army took to meet us. We said our prayers and began to fight.

Marlin and I flew at the head of our forces. We fought, hard, and we dealt some modest damage to the endless tides of the gem monsters that came at us. It was obviously not enough, though, and our forces were starting to get overwhelmed. We were losing; so we made our decision.

We flew, deeper in. We hoped to distract enough of them, do enough damage, something to keep enough pressure off our front line that we could balance out the tide of the battle. We fought, hard, and it was working to some degree, at least until we found ourselves grounded. Marlin, he hit the ground, hard.

I fought, hard. Marlin did too, but his wing was broken. We kept blasting down the Ikthil that came to meet us, trying to buy enough of a gap to mend his wing enough, but there were simply too many. I guess. We at least had the good fortune to crash down on a fairly defensible area between two hills, so they couldn't come at us from all sides, not easily.

I had turned my back on Marlin for a half second to pry a spider off my back. When I looked up, one of them had skewered Marlin. I felt it, through the link, the wound as fresh on me as it was on him. I felt my blood run cold, I felt what a mortal wound felt like. I killed that brute and rushed to him, but it was too late. We…

We had a few last words. He could not speak, not with the wound that large, but I heard them over our link, just before he…

I do not remember the rest. My memories only come back when I woke in a tent in the camp, feeling as cold and as ill as the dead themselves. I looked it, too, and I will not lie--I wished it. Many people tell me I fought hard. The legends spell my battle out, though, given my state of mind, I do not know the lengths of their embellishment.

But we had won. We held the line and destroyed the gem monsters incursion. The next year or so is a blur of deep sadness. I was out of my mind, both with grief and what I now know was insanity. I burnt a great many of my favors to release me from my duties for the military and the academy, though I was no great help after the war. They spread rumors and legends; my death was an easy thing to tell about. I was sickly and looked like a ghost already. It was very easy for people to believe my funeral.

So, I moved far enough away from the capital that my name would not raise any suspicion. My name isn't particularly uncommon, though I know a few people have their suspicions. Fredril guessed himself, but I think he is the only one that really knows.

I lived with the miller for a few years, learning the trade and searching through the stars that showed up in my dreams. Eventually, I gave him enough coin to retire from milling and travel with the rest of his years. He still sends correspondence with the traders every year or so. He's quite well.

I've lived in Mossly since, grinding grain, staring at the stars, trying in vain to recover my magic, and searching through these hills for ghosts. Then, I found you fighting some of those things, and here we are, thrown into the pot once more."

Beroan nodded, his wrapper torn on the ground in front of him, his meal long finished. Ailmer's food was still laid out in front of him, halfway eaten. His head was in his hands, laving the mage slumped back against the wall. He gave a long sigh, looking up at the dragon from his hands. "I miss him so much." He managed.

Beroan bobbed his head, stepping closer to the mage. He opened a wing, draping it over Ailmer. The mage closed his eyes slowly, shifting in the sand to press up against the drake's warm side.

***

With the astrolabe carefully wrapped and stowed in Ailmer's pack, the pair hiked quietly back to town. Ailmer didn't seem to be in the mood for more talking and Beroan was respectful. He had plenty to think about after the mage's story on the hike back to town.

Ailmer sighed as they approached the first set of buildings. Beroan heard it too. The sound of arguments, yelling, and general ruckus drifted on the wind towards them. Ailmer stopped at the edge of town, taking another deep breath to compose himself. Beroan frowned, looking into town. "What do you think is the matter?"

"I don't know. Could just go back to the mill, there's a shortcut around the back of town."

Beroan bobbed his head, his tail twitching from side to side. "What if they need our help?"

"They don't want my help." Ailmer growled.

"Does it matter?"

Ailmer took a sharp breath through his nose before he nodded slowly and gave the drake a pat on the head. "You're a wise one. I suppose it doesn't."

Beroan nodded, moving to bump his muzzle against the mage's hip. "Don't worry. I'll be there beside you." He rumbled.

Ailmer's face softened with a slight smile. He nodded, once, before striking off down the road.

The main street was clogged again. Porches were lined with townsfolk looking at the group on the road. Sebastian was up on the porch of the in, gesturing wildly and obviously arguing with the uniformed group on the road. The infantryman in front argued back, though his gestures were smaller, but his barking voice carried on the wind.

Ailmer sighed and shook his head, glancing down at the dragon following close by his side, as if he was afraid that he would look down and Beroan would have disappeared. As he approached, the whole town seemed to turn to look at him. "Speak of the damned." Sebastian muttered, slumping onto his elbows on the railing.

Ailmer caught the look of conflict on the innkeeper's face, barely hidden by anger. The soldiers, though, carefully looked him over as he approached. The youngest of them wasn't able to keep his jaw in place, his wide eyes glancing quickly between Ailmer and the dragon flanking him.

"Ailmer Inman. First scout of Galast, in the flesh. I guess the pine box they buried really was empty." The commander said, "Been a long time since the battle of Halin's Gate."

Ailmer sighed slowly, looking over the officer. His stripes read Sargeant, but the scars on his face and the way he held himself showed far more experience than that. "You told them, didn't you?"

"They had no idea who you were. Needed to mention it to find you." He explained.

Sebastian turned his head away from Ailmer, looking off down the street. Ailmer sighed heavily, shaking his head. "You're a hard man to track down."

"That was the point of it all." Ailmer growled.

The sergeant nodded, crossing his arms. "That aside, I am Sargeant Karles Pawlin of the 3rd army of Galast. I have been tasked with a delivery."

Ailmer nodded slowly. Karles reached into his coat to pull out a letter, handing it over to the mage without ceremony. Ailmer flipped it over, his heart dropping as he looked over the wax seal. A dragon, flying across a pair of spears, adorned the imprint. Even the few scratches and marks pressed into the seal made the mark unmistakable--Ailmer had worn that ring for a very long time. "Does this mean what I think it means?"

Pawlin nodded slowly. "We've been receiving a lot of news about Ikthil incursions. The folk here told me about your own scrap with them yesterday."

Ailmer sighed. "So you are here to call me back to serve again?"

Pawlin nodded slowly. Ailmer shook his head. "I am not the mage I used to be. I can barely light a candle these days."

"That ain't the way the people here tell it."

Ailmer shrugged. "The people here have no knowledge of magic. I threw a fireball and it nearly wiped me out."

"A far cry from my experience with Galast's glaive."

Ailmer sighed and shook his head. "So many names I haven't heard in years."

Pawlin chuckled. "You do look the part, though. Already got a replacement dragon beside you."

Ailmer growled, stepping forward. "Do not joke about that. Damned be if the king is standing right there, I will make sure you never talk again."

Pawlin stepped back, raising his hands in front of him. They fell into a silence, leaving Ailmer to turn over the letter a few times. Sebastian took the chance to turn back to Ailmer, a snarl on his face. "How many things ain't you lied to us about?"

Ailmer sighed. "The only thing I kept from you was my history. I thought it was dead."

Sebastian growled to himself, spitting onto the ground in front of the inn. "Let's get this straight. I ain't gonna serve you. The soldiers get one night, then they can camp."

"This about my history? I know you aren't fond of soldiers, but-"

"It's about the lies! I can't trust you, especially with the damn army pounding at my door for you and the things skulking around in the woods. I'm done." Sebastian spat.

The innkeeper was already turning on his heel to stomp back into the tavern before Ailmer spoke up. "Copper cracks them, dust will make sure they're dead. Coal fire can dispose of them. I've reinforced the mill and the land around it is fairly defensible." Ailmer said, "A powerful antiseptic can help you pull seeds from the wounds they cause. It is painful and difficult, but it is not a death sentence unless they dig into the bone."

Sebastian waved his hand before the door slammed behind him.

Ailmer sighed heavily, shaking his head. The squad stayed quiet before the youngest of them stepped out of line. "You really are the first scout? Riding dragon back, throwing fire, cutting down hundreds at a time?"

Ailmer sighed again. "Don't look it anymore. But yes, as much as it pains me, the stories are about me."

Kieran's eyes widened, the soldier squirming in place. "Well, you do look the part, with the dragon and all, sir."

"I don't feel it. Call me Ailmer, too, I'm not, and will never be, your officer. Speaking of which, there had better be a damned good reason for you to be here, besides simple correspondence."

Pawlin nodded. "It ain't too hard to figure out. Town says that Ikthil have already attacked, and a great many travelers have come tellin' of them invading towns and burning Astal. Far as it goes, though, there are a few things. First, there's been some clamoring for you in the academy. With the threat of another gem war, they want you back to train this next batch of dragon riders, the ones to be chosen during the harvest."

Ailmer nodded. "I don't have the magic, nor the bond to set an example."

Pawlin blinked. "But the dragon, I thought you had to be…Either way. I don't know, but they think you still got something that they'll need to know. Experience, at least. Besides that, the headmaster needs you as well for some other studies. Said they'd all be spelled out in that letter."

Ailmer simply nodded. Pawlin continued. "And, well, we apparently haven't been able to contact Astal's king. We have no clue what has been happening over there. All the scouts we have sent so far haven't come back. They were thinking you would have a better chance."

Ailmer nodded slowly, sighing. "About like I would have expected. Though, there is one thing yet; I am the only one in this town that could have a hope of defending it if the battle yesterday was any indication."

Pawlin nodded. "A merchant came by, Fredril. There are two patrols coming, one in front of us and one behind to reinforce this town and Halix."

Beroan blinked, glancing between the two. "But Halix…"

Pawlin glanced down. "What about it?"

Ailmer sighed. "We found Halix razed. The patrol, led by a lieutenant LeCam, are dead to the last man."

Pawlin sighed heavily, nodding. "The second patrol is much larger, at least. Well, I suppose we will have to report that when we return. Mossly will be well defended."

Ailmer sighed heavily. "I will need a night to decide." He said, gesturing to the letter.

Pawlin nodded. "Fair. My team needs rest and a hot meal. We'll see if we can talk some sense into the innkeeper."

Ailmer nodded, turning back to Beroan. "He's a reasonable guy, he's just got a sore spot for the army, and he's angry at me. I will go prepare my gear, and meet you here again later in the morning."

Pawling nodded, Ailmer turned and started to walk quickly away from the town, carefully turning the letter in his hands as he walked. Beroan turned to follow, looking back over his shoulder, catching Kerian staring at the retreating pair. Pawlin sighed heavily, his bushy mustache waving with the breath. "He says he don't look it, but it looks almost like he stepped out of my memory."

Kerian nodded. "He seems a bit grumpy, though."

Pawlin smirked, crossing his arms.

***

Ailmer shook his head, sinking the shovel into a freshly turned pile of dirt. Warm afternoon light filtered down through the leaves arching over the pristine clearing. Soft, colorful grasses and a few late-season wildflowers covered the ground, surrounding the hole that Ailmer had dug. A considerable pile of freshly-turned dirt rested beside the hole, already a few feet deep. Beroan watched, using his forepaws and blunt claws to scratch the dirt away from the hole, leaning in to dig between Ailmer's scoops. Ailmer sighed, leaning on the shovel for a few moments to recover his breath, looking up towards the sky. "I feel like I am robbing a grave."

Beroan glanced up, still digging as the mage took a moment to wipe sweat from his brow. "Well, then, why did you bury them?"

Ailmer sighed heavily, shaking his head slowly as he pulled the shovel to start working again. "Because I didn't ever want to see them again."

Beroan nodded, resuming his short rests between Ailmer's shovel scoops. He didn't seem to be winded at all, and his side of the hole was progressing markedly faster than Ailmer's own. The mage obviously wasn't in any real hurry, especially as his frown deepened the further into the ground they reached. "Then why didn't you just throw them out or burn them or something?"

Ailmer sighed heavily, pausing again for a moment. "Because of this. I suppose I could feel it, even then, though I had too much on my mind to care. I did consider destroying them, a great many times, but I suppose I had the sense in me to save them."

Beroan nodded, going quiet as he scratched and scraped at the dirt. Ailmer watched regretfully as the dragon dug deeper, starting up his own rhythm again after a few more moments. Beroan settled into the digging as well, the pair sinking a foot or two deeper into the earth in silence. "So you are going? You haven't read the letter yet."

Ailmer nodded. "I don't know. Either way, yesterday told me that this glaive is needed again, if not here then somewhere else. Honestly, I think I might go along with them. I don't have much here with my history spilled, and if the situation is as dire as it seems, I can choose to live here until Mossly is overrun or I can do what I can to stop another gem war."

Beroan nodded slowly, letting Ailmer continue. "I have been dead for a long time, Beroan. The only thing that has driven me, for so long, is finding Drav Nikon. With that astrolabe, though, we might have actually made progress for the first time in years."

Beroan nodded. "Can you read it?"

Ailmer shook his head. "Not in the least. As well, the only place with the people and resources to translate it are at the academy."

"So you would have to go back anyway?"

Ailmer sighed slowly, focusing on the shovel. They fell into silence again, until he dug the shovel in with the heel of his boot and it stopped with a thunk as it bit into wood. Ailmer paused, closing his eyes and taking a breath before he began to clear off the large box. Beroan's help made unearthing the box a simple task, and Ailmer drug it up into the clearing. "So there it is again. I remember burying it."

Beroan glanced up at him. "You do?"

Ailmer nodded. "One of the few things that really stuck out in my depression. I was really damn glad to get rid of it."

Ailmer shook his head, jamming his shovel under the nailed top of the box, starting to pry the top up. The wood creaked as he worked his way around the edge. Ailmer's lips pressed tightly together as his jaw tightened more and more as anticipation crept up on him. Finally, with a final, protesting groan from the wood, the lid tore off. Ailmer pushed it across to the side, sighing heavily.

Inside was a pristine set of scale armor, boldly painted in the silver and blue of Galast's colors. It was worn, not by time, but by the cuts and scratches of battle, but it seemed to have completely avoided the suffering of age. A sheathed sword and shield lay beside it, but atop it all laid Mizkithar.

Mizkithar glistened in the afternoon light. From the copper cap at the base of the glaive's shaft to the glittering curved blade mounted to the top, the legendary weapon had not even collected dust during its time in purgatory. Copper inlays traced over the shining blade, forming intricate, spiderweb patterns across the broad face of the spear. The wide blade swelled at the back to cap the dark wood shaft, the squarish blade bending back at the top to form a wicked cleaving blade. A short hook on the backside also gleamed menacingly in the light, split by four strips of copper, seamlessly welded to the blade. Worn leather-wrapped the shaft, the only thing that showed the history of the weapon's hard use. It was worn, the leather grips fraying at the tops and bottoms. The leather was worn down where Ailmer's hands had commonly gripped it, the old hide dark with the sweat of battles long past.

Ailmer closed his eyes, nodding slowly to himself. With a long breath, he gathered his courage and reached down to wrap his fingers around the weapon. "Mizkithar, Makith's burning claw." Ailmer muttered, reverently drawing the polearm from the pine box, "Still as sharp as the day you were forged."

Beroan, recovering after a few moments of wide-eyed admiration of the ornate blade, composed himself as he watched Ailmer raise it. "Are humans usually in the habit of naming their weapons?"

Ailmer shook his head slowly. "No. I did not name it, myself. There is--was, was a dragon. He forged it himself, pouring magic into the task. He made many other weapons, from my understanding, but they have all been lost to time."

"Workmanship that wonderful should not be lost." Beroan said, his eyes tracing over the fine coils and curves of the copper laid into the weapon.

"No. The great smith himself preferred the weapons to disappear. He claimed that they would when they had finished their work." Ailmer said.

"What was his name?" Beroan asked.

Ailmer sighed heavily, shaking his head. "He claimed that would disappear as well. I never learned it."

Beroan nodded slowly. Ailmer redirected his attention, drawing the weapon down with both hands while he walked toward the center of the clearing. He took a deep breath, raising the blade into the air with trembling hands.

Then, he danced.

The blade sang out as it cut through the air, whipping back and forth as Ailmer moved through a long-practiced training flow. The blade snapped back and forth as he worked, twisting and working with his entire body. The mage's feet pounded the dirt as his blade shot through the air. Ailmer stumbled, several times, the precious flow of the weapon dancing in his hands second nature to him, but he was sore and stiff after so many years of misuse. The blade glinted in the afternoon light and Beroan watched in amazement as Ailmer fought shadows in the clearing.

Ailmer had never looked, truly, like a warrior to Beroan. During the fight in Mossly, he had certainly held his own, but he looked like a mage, struggling to overcome his foe. But with the spear in his hands, Ailmer finally looked like the fighter that his history had claimed.

Ailmer sliced down, one last time, with a sharp yell of exertion. He held the blade a few inches off the ground for a handful of seconds before drawing it slowly back. He could not wait much longer to plant the butt of the weapon into the ground, leaning heavily against it as he panted. Even his back rose and fell as he gasped for air, swallowing heavily between heavy pants as he recovered from his short display. Beroan paused, sitting still for a few moments before hesitantly padding into the clearing, slowly moving to bump his muzzle against one of Ailmer's hands, still clutching the weapon.

Ailmer glanced down, straightening up slowly. One hand left the shaft of the blade to gently rub along the drake's muzzle. "I am not the fighter I used to be. I can only hope I am still enough of one."

Beroan nodded. "You seem as if that blade is your own claw."

Ailmer's lips turned up, almost imperceptibly, at the corners. "Perhaps. It only remains to be seen if the armor still fits."

***

"This really used to be Marlin's?" Beroan asked.

Ailmer nodded, fiddling with one of his scaled gauntlets, clenching his fist a few times to feel the fit and loosen the leather that had firmed slightly after long years in the ground. Beroan squirmed a bit, craning his neck to look back over himself and the similarly scaled armor, painted in the blue and silver that adorned Ailmer's own, draped and secured over his body. A few scales were missing here and there, most notably a large chunk from lower on the dragon's right side. Beroan did his best not to dwell on that. "That it did. It saved him more than a few times." Ailmer said.

Beroan nodded. "It's remarkably comfortable. I always thought human clothes looked rather constraining. It's a bit heavy, though."

Ailmer nodded. "It's a rather large amount of metal. You should still have no problem flying, though, especially with your magic helping you out."

Beroan nodded, padding around a bit to examine the flanges of hardened leather that stuck out in a few key positions. "That is true, it is not as heavy as I would expect, either. I guess the scales reduce weight a little?"

Ailmer nodded, pulling off the gauntlets as soon as he finished testing the fit, setting them next to the rest of the armor. "They also help to turn some blows better than rings or other designs. They're very laborious to make, however, so they tend to be too expensive compared to some of the other types of armor."

Beroan nodded, glancing back to Ailmer. The mage was back at the table, turning the still-unopened letter over in his hands. Beroan waited for a moment--Ailmer nervously glanced back to the drake. Beroan took the hint, leaving the room for a bit to walk around in the strange garment.

After more than a few minutes went by, Beroan started to get curious again. He waited, fidgeting, for a while longer, before padding slowly back towards the kitchen. "Ail? Is everything alright?" He asked.

When there was no response, Beroan poked his head around the corner to see Ailmer sitting with his head in his hands at the table. The mage let out a long sigh, before reaching down to carefully fold the letter back up. "I am going to have to go with them, Beroan."

The dragon bobbed his head, padding over to the table to sit within Ailmer's reach. "I will not force you to come with me." Ailmer said, morose.

Beroan's eyes lit up, in stark contrast to the somber mage. "Would I get to see the capital?"

Ailmer blinked a few times. "Well, yes. I would be there for a while. It would be during Halin's Harvest, as well."

Beroan nodded quickly, squirming in place on the ground. "Well, I've always wanted to see a big human city. I was heading towards one in Astal, before…" He trailed off.

Ailmer nodded quickly, biting his lip to try to hold back his relief. "I can't promise that we would stay for too long, however. It seems that fate has seen to pull me along quite quickly."

Beroan nodded again. "Well, then I will come with you."

Ailmer closed his eyes, nodding. "It will be dangerous."

Beroan waited until Ailmer's eyes opened, staring directly into them. "It will be with you."

Ailmer's voice caught in his throat. He tried several times, but he couldn't find the words to answer the dragon. Beroan nodded slightly, before his eyes turned away again, looking out the window towards the mountains the dragon had fled over. The afternoon's light was fading, the sunset slowly melting into twilight. "I don't have anywhere else to go, not with Astal alight."

Ailmer nodded slowly, hesitantly reaching a hand over to gently rub the bridge of the green drake's muzzle. "I…I would be honored to have you by my side."

Beroan pressed his muzzle warmly into Ailmer's palm, giving a soft huff to blow his warm breath over the mage's hand. "My claws, with you."

Ailmer gently squeezed that muzzle, the pair falling into silence. Ailmer's fingers gently rubbed and massaged over the dragon's warm muzzle. Beroan closed his eyes, gently leaning forward to press more of his head against Ailmer's affectionate palm. "We should head to bed, though. We will pack in the morning."

Beroan opened one eye, rumbling between Ailmer's fingers. "It's still really early, though."

Ailmer couldn't keep the smirk from crawling up his cheek. "I didn't say we were going to sleep."

Beroan's earfins reddened as he squirmed on the ground.

***

"I take back what I said about the armor. It's much more freeing to be without it." Beroan rumbled, arching his back as he stretched after Ailmer pulled the last section of scale mail from his tail.

Ailmer nodded, licking his lips as he worked his hands around the dragon's hips, lingering for a bit longer than was necessary to unfasten the last buckle and slide the armor all the way off the dragon. "Mhm. I will admit, your scales are a sight much prettier than the uniform."

Beroan tried to hold back a blush, huffing insolently to the compliment. "Dragon scales aren't pretty. They're shimmering, strong, powerful-"

"As gemstones themselves." Ailmer interrupted.

Beroan had to hide his muzzle in his forepaws to keep red from visibly tinging his earfins and cheek scales. Ailmer chuckled, dropping that last bit of armor onto the pile on the floor with a rustle of the chain, his hand coming back up to warmly rub along Beroan's side. The dragon squirmed a little bit, though even with his face hidden, his tail twitched appreciatively. "I thought you enjoyed being a little more confined, though." Ailmer rumbled.

Beroan hissed into his forepaws, nuzzling further into the bed to cover his head with those broad, webbed pawtoes. "Claws, and I am the overly-horny one?" He rumbled into the sheets.

Ailmer grinned from ear to ear as he shifted, turning onto his knees on the bed to bring both hands to bear, warmly kneading along the dragon's side, inching his way lower and lower. Beroan resisted for a few moments, before finally relenting, letting the human slowly push him over onto his side on the bed.

Beroan kept his leg pulled back a bit, his flank covering his swelling vent as he tried to hide his arousal from the human. Ailmer simply chuckled, his hands kneading down over the strong muscles of the drake's side to his chest, enjoying the soft rumble emanating from the male as the motions teased that peculiar purr out from the drake. His hands worked their way up Beroan's front, gently kneading and working in the opposite direction that Beroan had expected. The drake didn't mind, it gave him a few extra moments to start to work down his embarrassment while the human's attentions moved up his front.

That embarrassment, however, suddenly returned as Ailmer leaned down. A soft nuzzle brought the drake's muzzle up from the bed and freed his head from his forepaws before the blush returned suddenly as Ailmer pressed his lips to the dragon's own.

Beroan's heart pounded in his ears, matching the human's own thundering pulse. The froze, both of them, for several long heartbeats, before Beroan slowly pressed his muzzle back up, pressing his lips back in the decidedly human embrace. Ailmer couldn't keep a tinge of red from his cheeks as well as his heart sped up, his lips pressing warmly down against Beroan's own as the drake accepted the motion.

Ailmer knew that dragons kissed with nuzzles and tongue. He certainly didn't mind it, at all, slowly turning his head as he readjusted. He took the time to press his front up against the dragon's warm body, one hand rubbing down along the male's side, the other supporting Beroan's muzzle, before Ailmer's lips parted, pressing his tongue against the dragon's lips.

Beroan went along, his heart pounding. The whoosh of excited blood rushing through his veins filled his hearing as he slowly parted his own lips. His long tongue slid slowly out against the human's broader, softer tongue, the two males opening their muzzles to allow each other entrance. Beroan's tongue slid nimbly into Ailmer's hot mouth, the nimble tongue pressing down against the human's tongue, while the mage's tongue worked into Beroan's slick muzzle.

The pair worked against each other like this for several minutes, their respective tongues exploring each other's maws. Beroan's nimble tongue worked hard against the other male's teeth and tongue, while Ailmer licked slowly along Beroan's hot tongue. His hand stroked slowly down the drake's side, fondling and working his way down until his fingers drifted underneath Beroan's warm tight. The dragon huffed hotly into the kiss, starting to pull back the further Ailmer's fingers drifted.

By the time that Ailmer's fingers clenched around the dragon's throbbing arousal, the motion already spreading pre over the dragon's tip, Beroan finished sliding his tongue free of the human's mouth, letting it loll to the side as he panted. Beroan gave a slow grind of his hips forward, showing off that beefy dragon cock with a flex of the throbbing member against Ailmer's palm before he rumbled. "I have a, ah, question, though."

Ailmer looked up, his fingers still gently teasing up and down the dragon's cock. "What is on your mind, Beroan?"

"Why are you still in pants?" He asked, plainly.

Ailmer chuckled, licking his lips as he leaned into nibble along the dragon's chin. "You're welcome to take them off me if you want."

Beroan huffed softly, nuzzling back against the human before he readjusted, leaning his head down to bump it against the human's toned belly, licking slowly over the waistband. "I don't understand the human fascination with these things."

Ailmer chuckled, shifting to fondle just the tip of the dragon's throbbing cock as he presses his hips forward, grinding his bulge warmly against the drake's lips. "Mn, well, we don't have a handy little slit there to keep us decent, all the time. Also, there is the matter of cold."

Beroan huffed and leaned down, biting into the waistband of Ailmer's pants, giving a few needy tugs down from his awkward position. He huffed softly as the motions made little progress, and Ailmer chuckled, reaching down to slowly work the pants waistband down over his hips. This gave enough for the dragon to tug down a bit more effectively, working his head back and forth to actually pull those pants down enough to start revealing the human. "Mn, don't quite have the muscular bulk dragons do to regulate temperature quite as well." Ailmer explained.

Beroan nodded slightly, giving another few yanks, his chin bumping Ailmer's hidden erection. He distracted himself for a moment to work his hips forward and grind his drooling, drippy cocktip against Ailmer's soft palm. "'s still dumb." He mumbled.

Ailmer reached down with his free hand to work the waistband down a bit more for the dragon, leaving Beroan to huff and squirm a bit as he pulled back and down a bit. Ailmer's cock, finally freed from the fabric prison, left Ailmer panting in pleasure as it flopped forward, bumping the dragon in the snout. "There we go…" Beroan rumbled, instantly dropping the human's waistband to open his muzzle, slipping it around the human's shaft.

Ailmer huffed and squirmed a bit as the dragon's hot maw suddenly enveloped his needy cock. The mage groaned softly, throbbing against the dragon's tongue as it wrapped slowly around the human's stiff cock, squeezing in a way that only the drake's nimble muscle could. He held himself mostly still for a moment, just long enough for the dragon to warmly bob and press a few times onto his shaft before he squirmed to let his pants fall free.

He began to shift a bit more, making sure his motions were slow and predictable enough that he never had to free his cock from the dragon's eager attentions. He threw a leg over the dragon, slowly rolling them over until the drake was fully on his back and the human was crouched over his face, his shaft pushing eagerly against the bottom of the dragon's mouth each time Ailmer pushed down to rest his balls on the drake's snout.

Beroan certainly didn't seem to mind the change. He rumbled happily beneath the human, especially as Ailmer leaned down to warmly lick all the way along the underside of the dragon's pointed cock, teasing the entire length of the swell made by the dragon's urethra that showed off the whole length of that shaft before disappearing into the dragon's beefy base. Beroan worked himself a bit harder, bobbing slowly back and forth in the space that Ailmer allowed him, though he was still allowed to be plenty lazy--the position allowed Ailmer to control his speed, the human's hips driving his slow humps down into the dragon's hot muzzle.

Ailmer panted and groaned as he spent some time lapping and licking over Beroan's stiff cock. He gently worked himself back up enough that the dragon's tongue barely clung to his tip, before sliding back down to fully hilt himself in the drake's slurping muzzle, repeating the motion at an enjoyably relaxed pace as he tasted over the dragon's cock, his tongue picking up the slick pre that the dragon seemed so eager to produce. Finally, he relented, pressing his lips to the dragon's cocktip as he pulled all the way back, slowly driving his hips all the way down to the hilt in the dragon's muzzle as he pushed his head forward, sinking the male's throbbing, pointed dick deep into his mouth.

He jerked a bit as that tip spurted against his throat, but he pushed on, letting the drake's tip slide into his tight, clenching throat. Beroan squirmed underneath him, huffing and gasping around the human's cock as his shaft flexed inside the human's hot mouth. He shivered softly underneath Ailmer, trying to keep his hips from eagerly arching up as he felt his shaft stretch the mage's throat.

Ailmer managed to wrap his lips most of the way down the dragon's cock, suppressing a gag or two; it had been quite a while since he was used to this. He didn't mind it in the least, though, feeling Beroan's cock flex and press eagerly against his tongue, each throb spurting another messy dribble of pre directly into his throat. He pushed forward again, groaning gently against that cock as his lips barely kissed where the base of Beroan's dick began to really spread out. He began to pull back, starting to bob and suck gently on the dragon's cock, leaving Beroan to raise a forepaw to press against his hips, inside of one of his thighs, using that to guide the human to lift a bit more, letting the dragon take over bobbing on Ailmer's own cock.

Beroan did give a few eager presses of his hips every so often as the human's lips worked down over his thick shaft. The dragon panted and squirmed a bit, his hot breath pouring over the human's crotch and straining dick, as his own shaft bucked and worked against the mage's more broad, soft tongue. The dragon groaned himself, his productive cock spurting and drooling more pre into the human's mouth.

Ailmer had planned the position as foreplay, but the dragon below him certainly seemed more than content to suck him off for as long as he wanted. Ailmer had other plans, however, and after a few more minutes of sucking and working, he slowly started to pull his head back.

Beroan huffed as he felt Ailmer's warm mouth pull back from his cock. He bucked his hips forward, needily, as those lips pulled fully away, the dragon's stiff cock drooling thick precum. Ailmer chuckled, slowly shifting to pull himself from the dragon's maw as well. It was a rough task, considering that Beroan's flexible neck let his muzzle easily follow the human's shaft as he rolled off and scooted back, forcing Ailmer to reach down and hold one of the dragon's horns to anchor him as he pulled his hips back. He panted, while Beroan gave a soft huff of displeasure. "Mmnf, I wasn't done with that." He protested.

Ailmer chuckled, shifting again to hold the dragon down, stroking here and there as he moved to settle himself on top of the drake's tail, between his hinds. his hands stroked down the inside of the dragon's strong thighs, gently groping here and there as the lazy drake stayed laid out on the bed. "You most certainly are not." Ailmer replied with a grin, shifting his hips to grind his wet tip slowly up the dragon's undertail.

It would take quite a bit of effort to make Beroan move from his lazy flop on the bed, and so he was remarkably content to grind back against the human's shaft rather than shift to beg for another chance to suck on it. Especially as that warm tip traced up around his sensitive vent scales, the motion teasing a shiver of pleasure out from the drake, he seemed more than content to enjoy this position as well. His cock still pulsed needily above his belly, thick drips of clear pre forming glistening strands between his pointed tip and the large droplets adorning his belly scales. Ailmer relented, reaching up to wrap a hand around the base of that cock, gently squeezing and holding it as he shifted up to press his warm tip against the dragon's tight, hot tailvent. Beroan moaned softly, squirming just a bit to grind his hips up against the human's attentions, though he was relatively well pinned by the mage on his tail. "Mnf, I did want to cum in your mouth, though." Beroan admitted.

Ailmer's cheeks reddened softly as he ground himself forward, his answer catching for a moment as his tip sunk into the dragon's hot, tight hole. They both let out groans of pleasure, the dragon's toes gripping the sheets as he tried to keep himself from grinding up too eagerly against that cock. Ailmer huffed, riding the dragon's hip motions to teasingly keep himself from sinking in any further. "I'm sure I can arrange for that." He panted softly, leaning himself forward.

Beroan groaned out, the dragon shuddering in pleasure as the human shifted. Ailmer's hips drove into the dragon, sinking his cock deep into the male's tailvent, while his hand held the topside of the dragon's cock to steady it and pull it back just enough for Ailmer to lean down and wrap his lips around the dragon's tip. Beroan squirmed on the bed, gasping hotly in pleasure as he was licked and filled, the dragon's cock flexing against the human's lips and palm, his tight, hot tunnel clenching around the human's invading shaft. "Shards, Ail…" He managed through his panting.

They both left any sort of higher-level vocalization by the wayside as Ailmer began to work, their words lost in grunts, pants, and moans. Ailmer arched his back, smoothly arching his hips up to drive into the dragon, again and again, savoring the slow, long pushes while his mouth and tongue worked over the dragon's shaft. Every time Beroan glanced up Ailmer managed to catch his eye, winking as his lips drove down the dragon's throbbing, tapered cock. Beroan's earfins burnt red as he watched the human work him, pleasure coursing through him as that cock pulsed inside his tight, clenching tunnel and his shaft drooled and spurted pre into Ailmer's mouth.

It didn't take entirely too long for the motions to force them near to their peaks. After the intense foreplay, it only took Ailmer a few minutes of thrusting to feel his climax building and to feel the orgasm that was quickly coming to a head in the dragon under him. Beroan whined softly, biting his lip as he squirmed under the human, trying his best to hold back his orgasm while Ailmer seemed content to work it out of the drake.

Beroan couldn't do much more than oblige. Especially as Ailmer ground forward one more time, spending some time working every little bit of his cock into the dragon's tight rump, grinding his hips from side to side to work his member inside of the dragon, Beroan couldn't hold his orgasm back. It started as a growl, then a gasping roar of pleasure as he came.

Hot seed filled Ailmer's mouth on the first shot. He tried to gulp as much down as he could, but the dragon's orgasm was too much for him to handle, especially as his own reflexive moan hit him. His orgasm hit him hard, his cock pulsing inside of the dragon as he started to shoot off his own load into that tight, hot tunnel, the human unable to do much but whimper between swallows as hot seed poured into him, splashing from the corners of his mouth over his chin and neck.

Ailmer was forced to pull off after a few moments, though his hand kept stroking slowly along the dragon's cock. Beroan's shaft still flexed as his orgasm started to taper off, sending a few more shots of hot seed to splash over Ailmer's face. The human moaned, blushing as dragon seed dripped over the red on his cheeks as he emptied his balls into the dragon himself. His orgasm was drawn out by the feel of the almost-too-hot dragon tunnel clenching down around his shaft, the dragon shuddering and panting as he took that load.

Finally, their orgasms died down. Ailmer squirmed a bit, shivering as Beroan's tight rump clenched down around his cock a few more times, the drake's hot dick slowly softening against his palm. A few more clenches forced Ailmer to pull out, shivering softly as he bit his lip, panting heavily. His hand shifted to let Beroan's spent cock flop wetly against his belly, the mage raising an arm to wipe seed off his forehead, his cock resting against the dragon's hot vent, a bit of his seed dripping from it.

Beroan panted, leaning forward to start lapping over Ailmer's face. Ailmer huffed and closed his eyes, blushing slightly as the dragon's hot tongue slurped the dragon's own cum off his face. Beroan, eventually satisfied with his work, let Ailmer reach up to wipe saliva off his forehead, the human chuckling and squirming in place. "Wow, Beroan."

Beroan chuckled, squirming a bit before Ailmer moved to switch positions again, shifting to lay himself forward across the dragon's front, nuzzling into his neck as his softening shaft pressed against Beroan's messy cock. That big dragon dick throbbed against Ailmer's crotch and belly, the two sighing softly as they slowly recovered their breath. "Oh, Ail…" Beroan managed, resting his head on the human's own.

"Beroan, I-" Ailmer started, before cutting himself off as he mouthed the word, unable to say what he thought.

Beroan missed Ailmer's lips, slowly nuzzling against Ailmer's head and shoulder. "Mn?"

Ailmer tried to fish for the words, to spell out a sentence that truly meant what he was feeling. He failed, time and time again, to gather the courage to admit his feelings to himself, let alone the drake. "Beroan…Thank you for coming with me."

Beroan nodded slowly, reaching up to gently rest a foreleg over Ailmer's back, gently tugging him in closer. "I could not let you face this alone."

Ailmer took a deep breath, sighing slowly as he nuzzled into the drake's neck scales. Beroan simply gathered him closer against him, sharing his warmth with the human as the night grew colder outside.

***

Ailmer Inman, First Scout of the Galast armies, the legendary dragon rider, walked through the streets of Mossly, dressed for war. His heavy boots slammed against the cobblestone, and chain armor jingled against the blue and white tabard that bore the silver mark of Galast. His glaive, Mizkithar, the legendary gem-cleaver, glinted in the morning light. Beroan flanked him, the dragon clad in the blue and white armor of another dragon. His green scales contrasted the changing leaves decorating the trees behind them.

A cold wind blew through the town. The hints of winter's chill had become more than a suggestion, the morning wind bringing with it the sharp scent of snow. The town watched on, heads popping out of windows and forms leaning against porch railings to see their old friend showing a side that they had never seen before.

A deep frown decorated Ailmer's face as he looked between the military in the street and the faces up on the porches and in the buildings. Few of the townspeople managed to catch his glance without turning their heads away. Sebastian looked on from one of the upper windows of the inn. His hand covered his mouth as he caught sight of Ailmer, a sharp breath accompanying his turn as he slunk back into the tavern.

Sergeant Pawlin's ever-present frown deepened as Ailmer slowly approached. The rest of his squad looked on, their excitement tempered by gut-wrenching terror. Pawlin sighed slowly, nodding slightly as the warrior strode toward them. "Halin's own blood. The war is truly on."

Joceus reached up to clutch a small pewter tower, the holy symbol suspended from his neck by a small silver chain. He shook his head, his voice trembling, "Mercy, Ahilia's mercy on us all."