A Warrior's Vow

"Look at this!"

"Aw, he's so cute!"

Wygar Von Greire, the third son from the honorable Von Greire family, scowled at the two humans who were making cooing sounds at him. Cooing sounds! As if he was an infant or some sort of baby animal! His scowl deepened when one of the humans dared to lower itself on the ground and pick him up with its hands.

"Do you have it?" the infant female who held him in its hands asked, and the other one smiled.

"Yes! Yes, I do! Here." Wygar barely had enough time to breathe before one of the females showed the other a pot and, with care, proceeded to slip the two of them slid him into it.

Wygar sighed. It was the third time he had been met with just such a situation since he woke up on that pile of straw, exactly three hours ago. What was it with the human race that they thought honorable beings such as himself were collectible? Still, a great being such as himself wouldn't find the situation troublesome – maybe annoying, or even irritating at the worst - if he hadn't much worse things to worry about.

So he once again swallowed the desire to explain to those humans that no, he was not 'cute'. What he was was a legendary warrior from the great Ascardia, the land of gods. He was a lugyeri, and an adult one at that, mind you, a being of legends that was temporarily gracing their realm with his imponent presence.

These humans should have been amazed, honored to have been one of the few to be in the presence of a warrior of the lugyeri; they should be bowing, revering him as their better, their superior. They should not be putting him inside a pot made of glass, nor carrying him away from his temporary home and definitely not thinking that he was cute.

Because he was not.

So, the humans were a tad bigger - ok, a lot bigger. The first time he'd seen a human, eons ago, he had been a tad intimidated. After all, it was hard not to be intimidated by beings that were triple, even quadruple your size.

But he hadn't faltered - a warrior of the lugyeri race did not falter, no. They often faced death with a smile on their face, following the brave God of Air and Storms' commands and fighting until either victory or oblivion.

Now, after spending quite some time with his pet human - a tiny female named Nephelle - he found that he no longer thought of them as being threatening.

Well, maybe his pet was a little more threatening. He felt a little pride when he thought of it, as he had mentored his pet into growing both as a magic user and as a fighter. Of course, it was never going to be as good as he was - it was human, after all, even if it did earn a few perks from the Gods, it would always be just a human.

And it didn't even have the advantages that most humans had - while it was bigger than him, it was still tiny close to most humans - which was why he called it his tiny pet.

Nephelle found it funny for some reason - he could remember his pet laughing at him the day he gifted it with an explanation, the silly human. It should have felt honored to have been graced with his presence alone, never mind an explanation - and she dared to laugh at him!

Well, for some reason he didn't feel as offended as he ought to have been... Probably because he felt a certain kinship to it, as Nephelle - much like himself - had soon found itself locked away from its world. No family, no friends, no nothing.

Its laughter felt a bit like a gift itself... Not that he liked his pet. No. It was just...

Yeah, he understood his little pet.

So, maybe that was why he had decided to adopt Nephelle. He admired the way that it never complained of loneliness, even though anyone could easily see it on the way it talked to plants, carved animals, curtains and... well, nothing sometimes. Even he had never resorted to that...