Tipping the Scale

Prince of Magic (Part 2)

"Dragon?"

She asked unsure. It was far smaller than how she had imagined dragons to be. Almost made her a bit disappointed but the feeling was quickly replaced by exhilaration as she knew what its presence meant. The dragon riders must have found out about their message.

"Come stand here, unless you want it to fly right into you."

Warchief's voice pulled her out of her reverie and she swiftly stepped back to stand with him, leaving ample space for the messenger.

As the swooshing drew nearer, she could now see it. The size of a small pony, its body was similar to a lizard with black scales, helping it camouflage into the darkness. Its leathery wings spread wide, catching the air and slowing its pace until it reached the window. The dragon then swiftly retracted them close to his body and entered the window, causing the flickering candle lights to almost go out as it gracefully touched down on the stone desk.

Its striking yellow eyes shifted between the both of them. Even without words, she could see its intelligence. Although she had read about them, it had been hard to imagine an animal to be just as self-aware as a human, but one look had dispelled all her doubts.

"Tämä draoidh isel fàilte ort, Arglwyddan herra."

Warchief took her by surprise as he greeted the dragon in a sing-songy language that she had never heard before. Not knowing what the proper way of greeting a dragon would be and not ready to embarrass herself by trying to mimic his words, Lidea instead fell into the most elegant courtesy she could muster.

"I greet thee, great dragon."

If only Mom knew I would use her etiquette classes for a dragon.

She could feel its intense gaze linger on her and started to feel nervous. Holding her breath, she second-guessed if she had made a mistake until it finally nodded at the both of them.

Breathing out in relief, she looked on as it raised its claw to its neck. Shifting her attention a leather harness was attached around its neck and between around its front legs. It reminded her of the peytral she had seen war horses wear during tournaments. Only this one was made of leather, rather than cloth or metal, except for the silver tube that hung in front of its breast.

The dragon cut through the thick leather with ease and both the harness and tube fell onto the ground with an unceremonious clank. Almost immediately Warchief picked it up and she expected the dragon to fly off now that it had completed its task. Instead, it kept waiting, its eyes narrowed in discontent.

"Thank you, great dragon."

She uttered, still not unsure if the dragon could even understand her or if this would be the proper way to thank it. Its eyes shifted back to her for a moment and seemed to soften, before turning back to Warchief who was impatiently fiddling around with the metal tube.

Weren't they supposed to reward the dragon first? Normally a messenger would be offered a place to rest, eat, and drink. Was it the same for dragons?

"Vittu, miksi hwn fydd agor tämä gwaedlyd fuilteach!?"

Warchief grumbled as he tried twisting the tube in all matter of ways, but it didn't want to open.

Looking at the scroll tube, she was in awe by the amount of detailed engravings of flowers and vines. It had been far too nicely crafted to be used for carrying letters around, in her opinion. Though she was learning that the world of magic, liked to make even the most pointless of items look nice.

As Warchief continued to struggle, she wrecked her brain. Obviously, it had been enforced, to ensure only the intended reader would receive the message. Though her family had preferred to write in code, she had heard of different types of scroll tubes that made you enter a password or had to be activated by magic. Still, she couldn't see any hint in its decoration of how they were supposed to open it.