|| Book One of the Dragonkind Duology ||
𝙄𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙨𝙣'𝙩 𝙖 𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙛 𝙞𝙛 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙗𝙚 𝙨𝙥𝙞𝙡𝙩; 𝙞𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣.
For years, dragonkind and humankind had been at war, alternating between short-lived truces and all out...
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Someone did challenge him, much to his delight. A high elf who had joined solely out of curiosity, Ordephus discovered. But that didn't matter much, as he soon found out that the elf fought dirty. A pleasant surprise rather than having to fight someone all about courtesy and etiquette. None of that mattered in a war, and it appeared this elf had the right idea.
They had to be pried apart when the chivalrous sword fight turned into a rogue mix of magic and fists, but they made it a point to duel again sometime in the future.
"Is this how a general conducts himself?" Noctifer asked with crossed arms as he watched Iver clean a scrape.
"Is that what I am now?" Ordephus shrugged at that, obediently holding out his arm even as an ointment stung raw skin. "Probably not. But I never really cared about what's proper and what's not, especially when it's just some harmless fun."
Iver looked up at him dubiously before back down at his bruised knuckles, saying flatly, "Harmless."
"Well, harmless in a way that isn't impeding progress," Ordephus amended before joking, "Besides, it's a good way of getting some of that 'manly aggression' out of our systems."
He yelped when a hand whacked him upside the head, and he glared at Ein'roth when she stepped out from his peripherals.
"And that's her way of getting out her 'womanly aggression,'" he muttered as he rubbed the back of his head, which Ein'roth ignored.
"What are you doing getting into fights so soon?" she scolded, motioning to his bandaged arm. "It hasn't even been a day. Aren't you supposed to set an example? Act—"
"If you tell me to act my age, I'm going to scream."
She scowled as she walked away. "This is why I call you a child."
"Then don't tell me to act my age," he replied petulantly, although not loud enough for Ein'roth to hear.
"Enough of this," Noctifer cut gruffly. "What did you think of them?"
"Hoffspin? He'd be a fantastic guerrilla fighter."
"Not him," Noctifer rolled his eyes, "the other leaders."
"Oh." He delayed his answer as Argent returned with another shirt—his other required mending—and he slipped it over his head. "They're agreeable, and that's as much as I could ask for."
Noctifer raised an eyebrow. "That's all?"
"What more do you want me to say? It's not like I can replace them if I didn't like them." He shrugged once again, standing when Iver signaled he was done. "Anyway, what's the status on Master Yorwick or finding a scryer?"
"Unfortunately, all notable scryers are loyal to the Alliance, and it would be too risky to test that theory," Iver explained, following Ordephus seamlessly as they all headed back to the tower to retire for the night. "Of course, that does not mean there are none left. We just have not found them, yet."
