Dragon Kin

30

Victor

Before dinner I went down for a visit with my Uncle. I found him resting inside the cell where we had to keep him until the doctors finished their examinations.

"Three doctors," my Uncle spat. "Three bastards poking and probing and sticking — vampires is what they are. Never bled so much in my life."

"Yes, they're resourceful aren't they. Who knew you had so much blood to begin with?" I said.

He glared at me, then shook his head. "They're going to declare me unfit, you know that right?"

I nodded, and looked at the floor, "Yes."

"What are you going to do?" he asked.

"You ask that like I don't have a care for the city, which is just a touch insulting, Uncle." I told him. "I've always cared for the people of this city. Always. And I have never acted in a way that caused them danger. Especially for my own personal needs."

"No, you're right. But you haven't always acted, either," he countered.

And he had me there. Many times I did the minimum or choose not to act at all — if the option was available, I took it more often than not. "Well, I'm acting now. After dinner I have a meeting with the five top houses. I'm going to try to negotiate an agreement of Regency between them, if you are declared unfit."

"Are you," my Uncle said. "And this is so you can go after those men again."

"Yes. So that I can finish what I need to do, yes," I told him. "It's not going to take much longer. They are still working on it now. Possibly a week at most, and I'll be back and on the throne."

He lifted a doubtful eyebrow at me, so I explained about Alicja's cousins and their ability to find people. Despite himself he became interested.

"That could be handy," he said.

"Won't work here. We don't have the Social Media or the Internet or digital photographs. We still have the regular kind with flash bulbs," I said.

He looked concerned for a moment, "Why is it 'cheese' you say?"

"I don't know."

He shook his head, "Anyway, what if they can't agree?"

"I only need the top three and I think they are more than eager to avoid civil war. Business is good right now. The harvest will be done by the end of the week, and the cold is coming. No one wants war in the winter. It's insane."

He sat on the bed and put his hands on his knees, "Look, Victor, I like you. I even trust you. This thing has me... on edge. Whether it's the madness's doing or I'm just stressed — but I believe in you. Just... do your best, please. This city is my heart."

"I will Uncle."

"How's she doing? Any signs? Changes?" he asked.

"Not really," I said. "It's been a few days now. Five? No, this is the sixth."

"Maybe it's over? Have you tried to summon Mana? She may have already gone through it... in her sleep maybe?" he suggested.

"Alright, I'll do that when I get back tonight from the meeting. I'll let you know if there's something to report," I told him. "Do you need anything?"

"Naw, no," he said. "I've got everything I could use. Besides, I wrecked a few things I wish I didn't earlier. I'll be fine."

Will you? Is that what you'll be old man? I thought in my chest.

I made it out of there without succumbing to blubbery, but just barely -- arrived at our table within acceptable time limits. Alicja verbally assaulted me with the details of the debate she was attending after dinner. A debate she found out about through Jeffery.

Yes, that Jeffery. Apparently, amazing Jeffery, as well. Yes. Note to self: 'have a talk with Jeffery.' 

"Have you noticed any ... changes?" I asked in a low voice.

She tilted her head, "No, not really. I mean, there was panic about it, but that's not the same, I don't think?" She pauses, as though to be listening for a soft melody.

"No," she shakes her head and affirms, "nothing."

I leaned back, and began on the chicken breast. There were a lot more mushrooms than chicken. I haven't noticed anything like a change about her either. Well, the sex was a bit of a change. A wild and mad change. But that's ... not ... was it...? We'd try the Mana when I got back.

Outside — walking down the main street with the sky growing dunner and shadows slipping out from under things to cast areas into deeper darkness — I kept my awareness as broad as possible. I'm not looking for specifics, I'm looking for movement. Let it attract me, but give it the opportunity.

A sense of Flow overcomes me and I step into the bubble, letting my nose and ears mix and match with my sight. In the back of my mind, along the back wall, flames begin to rise. That's the Rage. It's barbed wire electricity, and hot branding irons. It will literally tear your flesh — and a dragon will try to claw out of you.

The dragon has never felt like me. My wings, my armor, the battle claws. They never feel like me. It felt instead like the other, the dragon has grown strong enough to burst out of me. That one day it will burst forth. And I rage against that. Because that's not my end.

I rage hot.

Most don't. Or they're incredible at hiding it. I've competed since I was ten. I've battled and fought and clawed with the best we have to offer. And most don't rage hot. The ones that did, the ones I felt true heat from when we clashed, were the ones who hit the hardest, and were the hardest to hit.

On the street around me now, odor trails became visual color trails of intangible orange and lime or pink or yellows. Waifs of light that traced the paths I could detect around me, and in front. 'Showing' me their directions and trajectory. Sounds became visual cues as well. This mixing of sensory data was part of the change. It was the part that happened to the mind.

Memory of scent and sound became dominant as well. I knew one scent from another, and remembered the causation of sounds. A crack wasn't simply a crack, it was the crack of wood breaking — oak wood — From the lid planks of a barrel which held wine.

An orange wasn't just an orange, but a blood orange from the Mirgarden orchards.

Details ran through my thoughts of places, directions, age, mood, surface thoughts and motivations as I walked past people and animals.

Nervousness was a shimmer of orange. Fear, bright emerald, with the possibility of pickle if the person was climbing into panic or terror — changing the bright emerald a bit darker. Love and romance was always complex and washed with twisting colors: Blues, golds, whites, steels and iron, and purples— changing, mixing and variations.

Alicja's was always blue with spikes of green and iron. She had a bold kind of courage. Her bright-mint fear easily switched to a brassy bright iron when she reacted to her insecurities and charged them head on.

The bright iron came mostly from her blush when she blurted out something she felt embarrassing. She shot the truth out, expelled it past her barriers of doubt and nervousness. She exposed herself before she had a chance to wall it in.

She's quite nervous about my senses. Yet she's the most honest human I've ever come across. The base scent of her is complex and difficult to capture. She enthralls me with awe regularly.

This raging, this stoking of the flames within me wasn't for battle, or in response to feeling threatened. It was for the meeting. Three blocks away from the tavern I had chosen I let the rage release and relax away.

It was a sensory relaxation as well, the effect was similar to coming out of a hot sauna into the cold night of winter. Feeling the prickle of air as it hesitantly waives across your back and thighs, and down your arms. Invigorating.

And it would leave the smell of battle willingness on me when I came through the door. Just to set the tone of the meeting. Cheap trick? Possibly. But victorious warriors win first and then go to war.