- - - - -

Race: Saurian

Bloodline Powers: Strength, Rending, Emberbreath

Greater Mysteries: Fire (Noble) 3, Wind (Noble) 1

Lesser Mysteries: Heat 4, Oxygen 4, Embers 4, Pressure 4, Current/Flow 4

- - - - -

Samazzar pushed open the door to the bar, letting the flickering golden light of the hearth spill out over him and his siblings. The clamor of dozens of people talking washed over the three of them as they stepped out of the starlit night of the Vereton Academy campus and into the warmth of the building.

A waiter, clad in a dark brown shirt and trousers, walked up to the three of them, a smile on his face and a tray of drinks on his arm.

“New faces!” He said brightly, motioning with his free hand toward the crowded common room. “Welcome to the Settler Tavern, built on the site of the first homestead that eventually became Vereton. I have immediate seating at the bar, but a table for four just opened up as well. If you give me a minute, I can wipe it down and take your order.”

“I don’t mind where w-” Sam began, only for Takkla to cut him off with a hand on his arm and a shake of her head.

“We’ll take the table when you get a minute,” she cut in smoothly. “Sorry for the inconvenience.”

“Nothing to worry about,” the waiter replied, spinning on a heel as he turned to wade back through the crowd of patrons. “I’ll need to clean the table eventually. There’s no harm in getting to work on it sooner rather than later. Just hang tight and I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

He wove through the tables and chatting revelers with practiced ease, cracking a quick joke to a trio of men that burst into laughter as he passed. Barely five seconds later, he was removing the drinks from his tray and putting them on the table where two women and four men sat.

“I can’t believe that the Academy has a bar,” Dussok said quietly, his eyes fixed on the teeming crowd. “Isn’t this supposed to be an institution for learning? How do all of these people have the time to waste on drinks?”

“I’m sure some students come here to socialize,” Samazzar responded. “I’ve never really liked the berry wine and the grain beer that we had while enslaved by the Greentoes, so I don’t imagine that I’ll be drinking much, but Rose was adamant that we come here at least once or twice. Something about rubbing shoulders with our future colleagues and the sort of people that could advance our careers.”

“I don’t really get it, but I’ll humor Rose,” he continued with an untroubled shrug. “Dragons exist in small groups called flights. They might cooperate with other beings for individual projects, but unless they’re part of the flight, there really isn’t a point.”

“Do you mean?” Takkla asked, voice trailing off as she left the question open.

“Of course,” Sam answered, grinning at her. “Dussok, you and my mate will all be part of our flight once the three of us become dragons. I don’t have anything against these humans, but there’s no real reason to work with most of them beyond basic cooperation.”

“Your mate?” Takkla interrogated, arching a brow ridge at him. “I’ve heard you mention her in passing before. Is she someone from the tribe that you’ve kept hidden from Dussok and I? Maybe a human that you met here in Vereton?”

He shuffled his feet slightly, looking down to avoid her inquisitive gaze. The room’s wooden floor had been lacquered at some point, but months if not years of constant traffic had worn away most of the shine revealing the dark brown wood beneath. The talons at the end of his toes clacked against the planks as he fidgeted.

“Samazzar,” Dussok said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “I think this is the first time I’ve seen you not respond to a direct question. I half expected a full monologue by now.”

“You don’t know her,” Sam stuttered, still looking at his feet. “She isn’t a kobold. You’ve seen her around, but there’s no way you’ve actually had a conversation with her.”

“Now I’m intrigued,” Takkla chirped, leaning toward Sam. “If you thought you were going to get away with making a vague statement like that, you were sorely mistaken.”

Before Samazzar could choke out a reply, the waiter returned, a cheery smile on his face as he wiped his hands on a rag. With a quick sure motion, he deposited the scrap of yellow cloth in a pocket.

“Sorry about that delay,” the human began. “My name’s Jaime and I’ll be your waiter this evening.”

“Well,” Jaime paused, catching himself. “This and most evenings. Unless it’s thursday or tuesday. I have lectures on the mysteries of bone and muscles on those two days.”

“You’re a student?” Takkla asked, her curiosity distracting her from Samazzar’s discomfort. “I thought a place like this would employ mundane workers from Vereton?”

Jaime shrugged easily, motioning for the three of them to follow him as he led the way to a table near the tavern’s hearth. He cocked his head slightly to address the saurians over his shoulder as he wove effortlessly between the tightly packed furniture and patrons.

“Ralph, the owner, thinks that students connect better with other students. The job doesn’t pay nearly as well as any of the missions you can get through the Academy, but at the same time, it doesn’t carry nearly as much risk. From what I’ve heard, a lot of the newer students that don’t really know magic are willing to fight with each other for a job at the Settler Tavern.”

“But,” Jaime’s eyes twinkled. “I had a secret weapon.”

He leaned close to Sam, whispering conspiratorially “My Uncle was school-mates with Ralph, so he just got me the job. No interviews, no tests, I just got handed a menu and told to memorize it.”

The human winked at Samazzar’s stunned expression as he stepped back pulling out one of the four chairs around the table.

“Speaking about that menu,” Jaime continued jovially as Sam sat down and edged his chair forward. “We have mulled wine, white wine, ale, and mead on tap. If you want a specific vintage, let me know and I’ll figure out price and availability. For food, the options today are bread and butter, meat stew, pea stew, and a fowl roast with wild onions. The fowl roast is the best, but it’s by far the most expensive. Personally, I’ve never been dissatisfied with the stews.”

Sam looked across the table at Dussok, cocking his head to the side slightly. The big saurian only needed to nod in reply.

“We’ll take three orders of the meat stew,” Samazzar said with an easy smile. “As for drinks, I’ll have the mulled wine.”

“I’ll also have the mulled wine,” Takkla agreed, barely a half second before Dussok grunted his agreement.

“Perfect,” Jaime replied, “That’ll be three parros. I’ll be back with your drinks shortly, and I’ll tell the cook to heat up three portions of the meat stew.”

The waiter walked away, deftly fading into the pleasant clamor of the tavern’s crowded common area. The warmth of the fire spread over the three of them as its flickering light danced playfully in the hearth just over two arms’ lengths away.

“So,” Takkla began. “Now how are we supposed to start networking with other students. Jaime seems nice, but I don’t know the first thing about striking up a conversation with a stranger. That’s never been something I’ve been terribly comfortable with.”

“Agreed,” Dussok said with a quick nod of his head. “Samazzar has always been the chatty one amongst us. I’d rather fight an ogre than strike up small talk with a stranger. Plus, the little dragon got us into this, he can be the one to handle social interactions.”

Sam opened his mouth to respond, but before he could get a single word out he was interrupted by the clatter of a chair as it tumbled backward and hit the tavern’s floor.

A shadow fell over their table, drawing Samazzar’s eyes to a massive man. He towered over the three of them, standing almost as tall as Dussok. Unruly black hair covered most of his face, obscuring one of his glazed eyes and half of his flushed cheeks.

“Ah know youush,” He slurred, slamming a pair of meaty hands on Sam’s table. “Youssall were the ones that started that fire on tha plains. Mah buddy Beatrice got burned in that fire.”

“Cut it out Max,” a woman called out from a nearby table. Sam couldn’t help but notice both the upended chair laying on the ground and the bulging muscles on her and both of her still seated companions. He had no way of knowing if they had used more than one elixir, but there was no doubt in his mind that they would be stronger and faster than any ordinary human.

“I know they’re from a barbarian race, but we’re in the Academy right now,” she continued, reaching over to right the man’s chair. “The captain told us that as long as we’re on Academy grounds, we have to play by the Chancellor’s rules. We don’t have to pretend to like this scum, but we can’t actively cause problems.”

“Scum?” Dussok asked darkly, his brow furrowing.

None of the humans seemed to notice. Instead, Max wheeled around, stumbling slightly as his momentum carried him too far.

“No Debrah,” he slurred angrily. “These are tha things that Captain Jamise talked aboush. He shaid that they were fair game, and that his brother would help out if one of us took a crack at them.”

“Things,” Samazzar said slowly, his scaled brows rising as he stared at the human’s back.

Internally he struggled. Rose would be angry at him if he immediately got in a fight. Pothas had a reputation to maintain, and it wouldn’t be good for the wind master if his apprentices got into an altercation on the first day, but on the other hand-

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to steady himself as he felt the mystery of fire swelling and roiling in his gut. Samazzar was a dragon. Dragons were above mortal squabbles, but that was because their pride was absolute. Why bother yourself with petty power struggles when it was so far beneath you?

This was different. The humans were insulting his honor. His siblings’ honor. If he just looked past the situation out of respect for Rose and Pothas, he would never be able to look himself in the mirror and see the dragon he actually was. All that would look back at him would be a scared kobold, afraid of the dark in the deep caverns.

“Fine,” the human woman said grumpily. “But if Jamise’s brother doesn’t bail us out, you’re going to be the one paying for it Max.”

Samazzar opened his eyes. The table full of musclebound humans were standing up from their chairs. The woman picked hers up, wrapping one fist around a leg. Her bicep bulged, and she ripped the chunk of wood free with a loud snap that silenced the loud common room.

“Wait!” Jamie shouted, running over and waving both of his arms. “Please stop destroying the furniture! If you have to fight, please do it outs-”

The man didn’t get to finish. Max blew a lock of dark hair out of his eyes and placed one hand on the waiter’s chest. He barely had to exert himself, a slight shift of his shoulders was all it took to send the smaller man tumbling backward and onto another table where he landed on a cluster of empty pewter mugs.

The woman tossed one chair leg to one of the men sitting with her. He hefted the impromptu club appraisingly before swinging it through the air once. Another snap heralded Debrah ripping a second leg from her seat.

Sam stood up, his eyes locked on the quartet of humans. Behind him, he could sense his siblings preparing themselves as well, partially through the heat of their bodies, but also through the shuffle of their scales against the table and the hush of indrawn breath from the room in general.

Then Max charged the three of them, head down and arms held wide as if he wanted to grab all of them at once in a bear hug.

Samazzar stepped backward, reaching with his mind toward the fire as Dussok met the mountainous human. For a second the two of them struggled, the man pushing the saurian back a step or so despite their relative sizes, and then Max was thrown to the floor, his cheek slashed open and bleeding freely from Dussok’s scars.

The two humans with clubs followed more cautiously, holding both of the chair legs at ready like they were a sword or a mace as they spread out to flank Dussok.

Sam didn’t give them a chance.

A pair of burning tendrils reached out of the fire, wrapping themselves around the humans’ hands and wrists. He pulsed a burst of oxygen into the conflagration and in a fraction of a second, both of his targets were engulfed up to their shoulders where the fire suddenly stopped.

The man screamed, a sharp screech that masked the sound of a ceramic mug whistling past Sam’s ear as Takkla snatched and threw it from a nearby table. The heavy piece of tableware shattered against the only unharmed human’s head.

He staggered back a half step, and Samazzar waved a clawed hand. Flames jumped from his two burning assailants to engulf the arms of the final enemy. For a moment, there was only the sizzle of flames as it burned their attackers, and then the screams began.

“Yield!” Samazzar shouted, taking a single step toward the three burning humans. “Surrender and agree to leave and I”ll stop!”

One of the two men fell to the ground, trying to roll back and forth in a futile effort to put out the flames. Out the corner of Sam’s eye, he watched Max try to stand up only for Dussok to pin him to the ground with a foot, the talons at the ends of his feet pricking into the man’s neck and drawing beads of blood.

Max froze, horrified clarity filling his eyes as he watched his companions stumbling and burning as they frantically tried to extinguish themselves. Sam closed his eyes, focusing on the fire sprouting from his opponents.

His lips moved soundlessly as he struggled to keep his attention on all three of the humans at once, thwarting their efforts to put out the fire and ensuring that the hungry flames didn’t spread to the largely wooden tavern. Distantly, he noticed that the nearby tables had cleared out, the patrons scampering away from the violence and spectacle even as silence descended over the rest of the tavern, amplifying the screams of the combatants.

The door slammed open with a crash, and Sam’s eyes snapped open. A trio of soldiers, all clad in gleaming armor rushed into the room. The leading figure grabbed his sword in a double-handed grip and thrust it into the air where it glittered for a moment in the fire light.

It flashed. A bright burst of yellow-white light seared Samazzar’s vision, sending him stumbling back into the table he’d been seated at as he blinked frantically to restore his sight.

Blindly, he touched the mystery of wind, sensing that the man had moved to the center of the tavern’s common area before halting. At his side, the two remaining guards held the blurry outlines of weapons at ready, but they weren’t taking any hostile movements.

“That is ENOUGH!” The human shouted, his voice echoing through the now mostly silent bar. “My name is Knight-Lieutenant Adam Joosen, and there will be an end to hostilities.”

“Saurian, extinguish your flames and release the squires,” he continued, his voice quieted somewhat, but Samazzar couldn’t help but notice the dangerous tone.

Sam squinted his eyes, struggling to make out the outline of the knight as his vision returned. With a deep breath, he grabbed the fire clinging to his assailants and tossed it back into the hearth.

“Lieutenant Joos,” Max’s slurred voice chimed in from his spot on the floor. “These things juss attacked us out of nowhere. You need ta-”

“Shut up Squire Milton,” the other knight bit back. “I came here after receiving witness reports about you and your friends picking a fight with strangers. You’re already dishonored our order, do not compound it by lying to an officer as part of a formal investigation. That is a direct order.”

“But Capan Jam-” Max began only for the Lieutenant to cut him off.

“Captain Jamise is not the head of our order, you took an oath to preserve the peace of Vereton, not to abuse your authority and shove citizens around because you expected to escape reprisal.”

Sam blinked again. There were still bright auras in his vision, like he’d been staring at the sun, but Adam Joosen and his guards swam into focus. He was tall for a human, not quite as big as Max or Dussok, but close to Samazzar’s size. His dirty-blonde hair framed his clean-shaven face as the man glared sternly down at the injured squire.

“Of course,” Adam continued, a slight frown flitting across his features. “You hardly managed to shove citizens around. In fact, it sure looks like I saved the four of you from a fairly brutal beating. Yet another mark on our order’s reputation.”

“Lieutenant,” Debrah croaked from the ground. She was laying on her back, her burnt arms at either side as she took short quick breaths due to her pain.

“None of that,” Adam replied sternly. “The four of you will report to the stockade where you will receive medical treatment and sober up. Tomorrow morning there will be a conclave to decide your punishment.”

Samazzar let out a sigh of relief, reaching up with his hands to try and rub some sight back into his eyes. To his side, Dussok relaxed. His sibling was still standing in a ready position, but the bunched and corded muscles were no longer squirming for release under the saurian’s scales.

“Don’t relax just yet,” Adam said, a note of unhappiness entering his voice. “City law requires some punishment for fighting with the authorities, even if you were largely in the right. Come with me and we’ll sort this out.”

Sam stiffened, hand clutching into fists in front of his face, but before he could say anything, Takkla put a hand on his shoulder. He looked down at her, taking in the worry in her eyes as she shook her head silently.

He blew out a deep breath, counting to five in his head as he tried to still his racing heart. Finally, once Samazzar felt confident that he could keep calm, he responded.

“Fine, we’ll go peaceably.”

Adam nodded, some of the tenison leaving his eyes as he replied gratefully. “Thank you for that. Sincerely.”

Then the humans turned around, clearing the curious crowd away with their very presence. Halfway to the exit, Jaime nodded gratefully to Sam, nursing a thin bloody gash on his right arm. Barely ten seconds later, the three saurians had joined them in the quiet night air just outside the tavern.

Above them, the stars twinkled in the crystal clear night sky, a beautiful counterpoint to the heavy mood that had descended over their corner of the Academy. Then Adam turned and sighed.

“The three of you are Samazzar, Dussok and Takklak, right?” He asked, the bark of authority absent from his voice, instead replaced by a bone-deep weariness. “You’re studying under Master Pothas and you brought the new fire magi to Vereton if I recall correctly.”

“Takkla,” the female saurian corrected him.

“Sorry,” Adam said with a pained wince. “For getting your name wrong and for all of this.”

“Look,” he continued, raising a hand to forestall any argument. “I’m going to have to fine you twenty parros apiece for fighting. That’s the minimum allowed under City law for opposing the guard, and if I went under that it would only breed resentment. This wouldn’t be a one time fight. You wouldn’t be able to go anywhere without the guard or the knights hassling you.”

“But-” Sam began, affronted by the injustice of the situation.

“I’m paying it,” Adam cut him off. “By way of an apology. The Knights send squires to the Academy to learn magic so that it can complement the strength, resilience and agility we earn by taking elixirs. We don’t send them here to pick fights with guests to the City. Things have been tough lately, but we can’t let our basic civility slip away from us.”

“They mentioned that Captain Jamise had approved their actions,” Takkla observed evenly, crossing her scaly arms in front of her chest.

Adam’s face darkened, he opened his face to say something only to catch himself. The big man closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and exhaling before finally reopening them.

“My oath prevents me from speaking poorly of a senior officer,” he bit out. “I have my… questions… about some of Captain Jamise’s actions, but there is no doubt that the City has been under a lot of stress. Bandit and barbarian raids have increased to an untenable level. Only half of the caravans are making it to Vereton, and as soon as the merchant factors figure that out, they’re going to stop sending caravans at all. We will have enough food, probably, but things will get bad if that happens.”

“I can understand Captain Jamise’s fear of outsiders,” the Lieutenant continued unhappily. “Especially from races that are most commonly associated with the barbarian tribes that raid our settlements and shipping. That doesn’t excuse flouting the City’s laws.”

“Do you mean that we’re going to run into more of this sort of thing?” Samazzar asked, motioning vaguely toward the bright glow coming from the tavern’s windows.

“It’s a high stress time,” Adam replied begrudgingly. “Not all of us are like that, and the common citizens don’t know how bad things are getting, but unless things get better, yes. You should expect more racism.”

“Very civilized,” Dussok commented with a dissatisfied grunt.

“Look,” the Knight said. “I can’t be everywhere and fix everything, but I try to make sure people follow the Patrician’s laws as written. If something happens, ask for me and I’ll do my best. I can’t exactly go toe to toe with Captain Jamise, but I suspect that Master Pothas can.”

“Just.” The human paused for a second, reaching up a hand to run it through his unruly, dirty-blonde hair. “Just be careful. You’ll be under a lot of scrutiny. The laws will prevent anything too egregious, but don’t be surprised if people are looking for ways to screw you over.”