All The Skills

Brixaby flew him down toward the rooms he had picked out on the twentieth level. The journey downward was quite the view. Arthur could see the entire mountain chain, with the flatter valleys beyond dotted with prosperous fields and farmland. There were some fields with an odd red glimmer out in the horizon. It made for a stunning sight.

However, Arthur wasn't in the mood for it. His thoughts still buzzed from the meeting.

How many of the other hive leaders knew the way the Legendries conducted themselves here? He couldn't imagine they were that ignorant. They always jostled among one another for power and looked for weaknesses within other hives, so they had to know something.

And what of the king? Well, Arthur amended after a moment. That was easy. The king’s mind was in a weakened state. Chances were he knew almost nothing about how his kingdom actually ran.

And now that he thought about it, even if the other hive leaders knew what was happening here, they were likely more concerned that it stayed here and did not affect any of their hives.

He was only brought out of his dire thoughts when Brixaby pulled up several levels before they reached their ledge.

"Brixaby," Arthur said, squinting ahead. "Why are all those Purples buzzing around those rooms?"

"Those are our rooms," Brixaby said shortly. "I promised to feed them lunch."

"Well, that would explain why all the dead animals are piled up on one of the ledges," Arthur said.

Thankfully, they were normal animals—not scourglings—though from the looks of it they had been killed in the messy process of the eruption.

Speaking of the eruption… Arthur shook himself out of the last of his shock and looked around at the portals. The eruption seemed to be wrapping up. Many more dragons were returning out of the main portal than going out.

Those are dragons who have to use the eruption to pay for their riders’ lives so they aren’t drained, he thought.

Some of the Commons returned with necks hung low, their riders slumped over with exhaustion. Arthur could well imagine a terrible spiral: if someone had to give up a piece of their vitality to pay their blood price, then they would be that much more tired come the eruption. And they might not do as well, which meant that they wouldn't collect enough shards from scourglings to pay... which meant more siphoning.

What happens when someone is getting drained over and over? Were they killing people?

That was the real question. If the draining process wasn't outright killing people, then surely, they were being put in much more danger with reactions slowed while fighting fresh scourglings.

And then there were the broader implications. He had just seen an overly large eruption cone that had happened because it had taken too long for the hives to get control of the eruption. Was Blood Moon underperforming? They were supposed to be one of the top hives.

Yes, this was only one hive, but every dragon counted, especially when eruptions were occurring more and more frequently.

"I could tell them the Commons to leave," Brixaby said stiffly.

Arthur jerked in surprise and realized he'd fallen back into gloomy thoughts. He focused on the Purples who were buzzing all around the ledges. From a distance, they looked like flies over a plate of good food.

"No," he said. "Earlier you mentioned something about cooking horse, right?"

"I did, but it looks like they took the opportunity to bring in more."

Brixaby buzzed closer, and many of the Purples yelled out happy greetings to him. Every single one was Common, and riderless.

Now that made more sense. Because when someone was crushed under a system like this, why would they risk riding a Purple who had a lesser chance of defeating a scourgling? RαΝȪＢĘṥ

And he also understood better why Griff had mentioned that these Purples were the fastest ones left. Because if someone grew that desperate and they absolutely needed a card which would stop the cycle of getting drained... a little Purple who didn't have a rider and who couldn't defend themselves would be very tempting.

"No," Arthur said again, feeling extremely bad for these dragons. But more than that, he felt angry. "No," he said again, "I'll give them lunch... and more. We need to help them."

They landed, and many of the Purples buzzed to and fro, babbling about how they brought the food that Mr. Rare wanted. Some started shoving Common shards at Brixaby. Several of them had an entire clawful of shards to give.

Five would give their riders one day of not being drained, Arthur thought.

Candy Floss was the proud owner of three more Uncommon shards which she proudly displayed to Brixaby with many oohs and ahhs all around.

Brixaby took the shards as was his due, of course, but he did not seem as remotely pleased as before. As for Arthur... he really wanted to use his knives on something.

"Brixaby," he said, "If I'm going to make enough for everyone, I'll need big metal tubs and firewood. We're going to have a stew. Assign them tasks to get what we need to bring it all back here. We'll cook it out on this large ledge." He paused, making sure that everybody heard. "The entire wing is invited, including all the Commons, riderless or not."

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He stalked inside the room, needing to be away from the joyful Purples. Outside, his dragon issued orders and sent them out in teams.

The little dragons were happy to obey him.

Arthur supposed he could have made the orders himself, but generally, dragons talked to other dragons.

Brixaby came in a few minutes later and Arthur said, "Take that damn oath card out of my heart." He could have done it himself, but every time he even started to reach for the card he was hit with the overwhelming desire to do something else.

His dragon did, wordlessly, and it felt like poison was being removed from his heart along with the card.

Brixaby stared at the card clutched in his pincer claws.

"Do you want me to destroy it?"

"No," Arthur said, taking it. "I have a few minutes before the Purples return. Meanwhile... I want to work on this."

There was a writing desk set up nearby. Arthur sat and used a lit-up card anchor to cast light on it. Then he peered down with a sense he was looking at something horrific.

He squinted at the tiny writing and noted that it said pretty much what Chester had claimed. Then he used his Master of Cards to look deeper. He tilted the card up to the light. There was faint writing along the edges that he hadn't noticed before.

It granted Chester the ability to take Arthur's blood price from him remotely, without being touched. Which also meant that it could be used for punishment.

He looked up at Brixaby, who was watching him. "They didn't make you do an oath card, did they?"

Brixaby snorted. "Of course not. The only one who spoke to me was Blood Drop, to explain the blood price—"

"Wait, Blood Drop? That's really his name?" Arthur asked.

"Likely not his true hatched name, but it is what he calls himself now." Brixaby paused. "The other two did not give their names. They only loomed over me when Blood Drop gave the signal. Arthur, they seemed... barely aware of what was happening around them."

"Just like their riders," Arthur said. "I bet they've paid the blood price quite a few times."

Brixaby growled, low and dangerous. "I dare him to do that to you or I.”

"We’ll make sure to have a few tricks up our sleeves," Arthur said. "When those Purples come back, I want you to send the largest out for Asha, Equinox, and their riders. I’d tell you to go get them yourself, but..."

He trailed off, trying to think of a delicate way to say that he wasn't sure that Brixaby could carry all of them without putting them in his Personal Space, and they didn't want to advertise that ability.

But Brixaby said, "After what I just learned, I am not leaving you. My fan club can do my bidding."

Arthur smiled, though it felt strained, then he returned his attention back to the oath card. Brixaby watched with unusual solemnity as Arthur started to adjust the wording.

Oath cards, he found, were not nearly as complicated as true cards. It was more like an enchanted object, or a card anchor. His main concern was that Chester not be alerted that he was making any changes. But as he very carefully looked at the phrasing, he saw no hooks or indications that he would be.

And why not? He couldn't even truly think about taking the card out himself. Brixaby had been the one to do it.

He had to be quick, though, just in case Arthur was wrong.. He did not want the man to check his status and find that the oath card was gone.

Using the edge of a knife, scratched out the line that gave Chester the power to take the blood price from him remotely. He couldn’t allow that man to have that power over him.

He wanted to remove more and was on the verge of removing the word ‘blood’ from blood price, making it so he could pay back Chester with basically anything. But… if Chester went to siphon from him directly, he would know something was wrong. He had to play it safe.

As he scratched out the line for remote siphoning, he concentrated his will with Master of Cards. The card matrix repaired itself, minus that particular line.

Then, with a shudder, he slipped the oath back into place around his heart.

By that time, the first of the Purples were returning with their goods.

Unfortunately, Brixaby should have specified that when he told them to get wood, he meant firewood: dry and seasoned. Many Purples returned with green branches they had lopped off of trees nearby. Others came back with boards of wood from who knows where.

Brixaby went out to correct them and send them out again. Luckily, a few at least understood the general idea and returned with actual firewood and kindling.

Candy Floss really out did herself. Not only did she return with a steel tub large enough that it looked like it had been used as a trough for an entire herd of cattle, but she had also helpfully filled it up with clean spring water. Using her card, she had been able to pick up the entire thing, trough, water and all, and buzz it up to their ledge. Though she arrived out of breath.

Brixaby praised her in his condescending way and had her supervise two larger Purples to go fetch Marion and Soledad and their dragons.

Meanwhile, Arthur turned to the pile of carcasses. With a grim sort of pleasure, he grabbed up his knives from his Personal Space. There were several cattle, goats, a horse, and what looked like an entire flock of chickens. Arthur grabbed up a rope, asked one of the Commons to fly it up and around a ledge up above, and strung up the first carcass for butchering. Then he began to break it down using his Butchery skill.

The work was meditative and soothing. He had always enjoyed cooking. So, as he worked through the carcasses, storing some of the meat in his Personal Space as he went, the anger drained away. He started to think with more clarity.

Only then did he realize that he felt... guilty. It was ridiculous. He had not caused the issues with this hive, but he was a Legendary-ranked dragon rider, and what these other Legendries did reflected on him. And as someone of the same rank, it was his job to help fix what was broken.

He didn't quite know how, but he did have a glimmer of where to start.

As he worked, he tossed the meat into the stew, admonishing the Purples again and again not to fish any out. That it was cooking, , and yes, it was supposed to be in the water.

No one had a fire card. That would be quite unusual considering the Purple's natural magic. Luckily, he had a few lit torches in his Personal Space, as well as oil to get the tinder started.

Soon, when Candy Floss returned with Soledad and Equinox, he set the little dragon to help heat the water as well. He was delighted to help.

Soledad tried several times to report on her day, but he shook his head. "Not with the Purples around," he said, cutting his eyes to the chittering, flighty dragons who buzzed in and out of hearing range.

“It’s okay. I didn’t find out much anyway. How was your day?”

Arthur just gave her a look.

“That good, huh?” she asked. “Maybe I’ll just… help set up the rooms here. Yeah.”

She quickly scurried off.

The last of the meat done, he went to the now bubbling stew pot, added handfuls of salt—there was a lot of stew—and then started throwing in herbs from his Personal Space.

Brixaby saw what he was doing and wandered over, surprised. "Are those your magical herbs?"

"Yes, for strength and endurance.”

“Do you not want to save them?"

"No," Arthur said shortly, watching the Purples buzz around. There had to be a couple of dozen of them. So far, only the Commons had come in for lunch, but in his mind's eye, a bare shape of a plan started to form.

"No, there will be more than enough for everybody," Arthur said, "and I want this wing not only to be strong, but formidable."

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