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On The Wings Of The Past

Over the pounding of hooves and rhythmic march of the advancing armies’ boots, the roars of dragons could be heard.

The army of Notlak was currently engaged on the field with the meager forces the peaceful nation they were attacking could muster. The few men that still remained were falling back toward the unwalled village that they had been trying to defend - which now stood unprotected. Uncaring, the Notlak cavalry pushed forward, running through and cutting down anyone in their reach, and swarming and slaying any who tried to stand and fight.

However, as all seemed lost and the final group of soldiers that hadn’t broken fell to Notalk steel, hope appeared for the terrified citizens peering from their homes in the village, or else standing with pitchforks or other tools ready to take a stand, though they knew the futility of doing so, to defend their families. Soon, all heads that were not engrossed in slaying others would be turned upward, gazing in awe or terror at the sky.

Over the pounding of hooves and rhythmic march of the advancing armies’ boots, the roars of dragons could be heard.

In seconds, it was the Notlakian armies’ turn to be slaughtered. Entire columns of men were engulfed in flames as a red dragon flew overhead, hundreds dying in the span of seconds. The advancing cavalry suddenly turned and scattered as the horses panicked at the shuddering of metal wings, fleeing the battle, or in the case of the soldiers that managed to keep control of their steeds, joining the infantry in a fiery death. The commander’s tent was crushed under the weight of a large black dragon, and any men in the area were eviscerated by either the beast’s talons or tail. Even those that ran in this group still fell, slain by a rider with mismatched eyes who had dismounted and showed no mercy to the weak.

In the village, those cavalrymen who had reached it in hopes of using the villagers as a means of avoiding the dragon’s fire were found their plan abruptly halted as two dragons descended and landed on the roofs of the village buildings, their riders quickly quickly jumping off to face the soldiers in combat. Any man on a horse or with a weapon was slain on sight, more than half of their number cut down in the span of a few minutes by a man in black garb, but white dragonscale armour and bone mask. The others fell to a man with a wide brimmed hat, but most of this other rider’s time was spent aiding the families of the village, ushering those that had previously been ready to fight and die into their homes, and quieting children who were stock still or crying, covering their ears and trying to ignore the cries of the dying horses in and around the village, and the screams of pain of the men who fell to dragonbone swords.

That was the day that the previously unstoppable match of the Notlakian empire was stopped. That day, for every Irelian soldier who fell, five or more of their enemy were consumed by flame, else they were eviscerated by dragonbone, be it attached to the living beings or as the rider’s tools of death. That was the day when the dragons and their riders became respected not out of awe, but out of fear.


“Hello! Hello!” The King of Irelia was saying as three riders walked into his hall at the nation’s capital, having been invited formally to a feast as a sign of gratitude. Their dragons were currently perched on the towers of the castle, but were not attending the actual feast for obvious size related reasons. “Noblemen, let us welcome the saviors of our nation to the court, the Angels of Death, the Dragon Riders!”

Applause erupted from the large, long table in the hall, and Zisteau, Blame, and Kurt (who were selected for their, or particularly in Kurt’s case, their dragon’s actions in the battle) each bowed in response, through Kurt seemed very perturbed by the new title the King had given them. Soon, the were ushered to the head of the table and given seats of honor on beside the king, given priority over even his children to sit beside (or in Blame’s case, two chairs over from) the leader of the country.  

Soon, the King ordered the servants to bring in the food, and the feast proper began. All three of the riders were bombarded with questions, ranging from politics to military tactics, to what life was like in the Wing. Kurt was even metaphorically approached by one of the young court ladies that was seated a slightly farther down the table, in a way that seemed as though she was trying to win his affection - but after a while Kurt could tell she didn’t really want to be doing it, that she had been put up by her father, brother, or someone else in hopes of gaining a connection with one of the now fabled dragon riders, which made Kurt feel sorry for her.

“Okay, okay.” Blame said after banging his gauntleted fist on the table to gain attention. “Because we’ve been asked this so many times, I’m just going to come out and give the answer to everyone. We’re not an army, or involved in politics, or some kind of fighting force, especially not one for hire. We’re not a military organization. However, the advance of Notlak had to be stopped, they’d attacked and terrorized to many nations, most of which had pronounced themselves as peaceful neutral states. That’s why we involved ourselves.” Blame finished, before being somewhat surprised by the absolute silence in the room. “That’s all… You can go back to your normal conversations now….”

Slowly, the chatter picked back up in the hall before thing returned to their normal volume. The discussion, though to the riders it felt more like an interrogation, shifted back to more lighthearted topics, and stayed that way for a while. Pleasantries were exchanged so many times that the riders almost started going on autopilot, and just having telepathic conversations with their dragons because the ones they were engaged in face to face had become so repetitive and boring.     

I am so glad that it’s you down there and not me. Vechs was saying to Zisteau while yet another of the somewhat unimportant nobles was trying to impress him. I’d have gotten sick of being like “that’s nice” and “oh why thank you” aaages ago.

Yeah, and I’m glad I’m the one down here, because if it were you, you’d have accidentally sent something on fire by now. Zisteau replied. Basically everything in this entire room is super flammable, and at least one of the ridiculous spices they are trying to use to impress us would’ve made you sneeze.

Well, I - I… Vechs said, trying to come up with a valid defense. Okay, you’re probably right. He admitted, which earned him a telepathic laugh from the other two dragons.

Besides, Blame said, jumping in on the conversation once his dragon had. I’m willing to bet that he’d have toasted one of the piece of meat or something by now. I don’t think they’re charred enough for him.

Hey! Vechs protested. I like my meat raw!

Ve-echs, be honest. Zisteau said, jumping on the ‘let’s-all-tease-Vechs’ bandwagon.

Okay, fine, I might char my meat occasionally. Vechs said sheepishly. But I normally don’t! He said quickly, turning his head toward the other dragons. Honest!

Uh huh, Vechs. Suuure. Blame replied.

Actually, Blame, I think you’re wrong. Zisteau said, his voice becoming somewhat mischievous. I think he’d be too busy to bother burning meat. There are plenty of princesses here to choose from.

Okay, okay, you know that one’s a myth, Z! Vechs replied indignantly. Dragons don’t actually kidnap princesses! Or any royalty, for that matter.

Normally. Doc countered, joining the party.

Well, yeah. But even when we do, it’s not like the stories picture it. Vechs replied. It’s for a reason, like because we’re fighting the kingdom of the royal family, and I’m not fighting a war with any of the people down there!

Suuure, Vechs. Suuure. Hey, Aurey, Doc, if Vechs tries to steal a princess, can you two stop him?

Zisteau! Vechs shouted indignantly before the conversation was cut off by the riders having to pay attention to the conversation that they were having with the nobles, because one of them was actually asking an important question.

“We have some friends, we’re not allies, exactly, because we’re all neutral states - Tairav and Xevro - that are also under attack from Notlak, are you going to do the same thing you did here, or what?”

“Yeah.” Blame replied. “You guys were the most pressing, but we do intend to wipe out any other Notlak armies that are on the offensive, though we intend to give their government a warning before we attack them again.”

“Oh, good.” The king said, wiping some sweat from his brow. “I married my eldest daughter off to the prince of Xevro, it’s good to know that she’ll be safe.” He finished, leaving Blame to reflect on just how unfair this society they were saving was.

I’m just glad I’m with the riders. He thought mostly to himself.

I am too. Aurey said from above, overhearing him. I’m also glad dragon society isn’t as rude to girls.

Yeah. Blame agreed. Humans are ridiculous sometimes.


A/n: On the wings of the past gets yet another installment! It’s odd for me to update this quickly, but I felt like writing today, so this occurred. Also, I slipped in an easter egg referencing another fic here on SL, for those of you who are observant.

Other chapters:

On the Wings of Dragons:

Chapter one: http://mindcracklove.dreamwidth.org/716611.html#cutid1

Chapter two: http://mindcracklove.dreamwidth.org/724465.html#cutid1

Chapter three: http://mindcracklove.dreamwidth.org/963948.html#cutid1

Chapter four: http://mindcracklove.dreamwidth.org/967227.html#cutid1

On the Wings of the Past:

Chapter one: http://mindcracklove.dreamwidth.org/1007606.html#cutid1

Chapter one point five: http://mindcracklove.dreamwidth.org/1032176.html#cutid1

Chapter two: http://mindcracklove.dreamwidth.org/1065597.html#cutid1

Chapter three: You are here
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