Legend of Ransera

Kaus came aboard with all alacrity, and responded to their salutes with a respectful bow. A sincere smile split his face.

"Sturmreiter? Das ist ein verheißungsvoller Name. Danke, Kapitän."

While Stadelmayer excused himself to ready the airship to depart, Kaus assured Koch that he would stay out of the way. To that end, he moved to stand at the bow. Any who glanced his way merely noticed how he stood still as a statue, his hair and clothes whipping in the wind, dauntless in the face of wintry weather.

When Stadelmayer returned, Kaus elaborated.

"I am not certain how thoroughly you were debriefed, Captain, so forgive me if I relate things of which you are already aware. There is a dragon that is some cause for concern among your rural populace. I am tasked with subduing it. Permission was granted by you government, I think, based upon the logic that if I am successful, there is one less problem for Zaichaer to face. And if I fail, my sister will ensure there is no political fallout. I have met a handful of dragons, albeit in human form. I will attempt negotiation before violence, but if violence ensues, I do not expect you to engage on my behalf. I would recommend an expeditious retreat and I will do the same, leading it somewhere other than Zaichaer. I too am a Sturmreiter."

He smiled a little smile, turning a bracelet upon his wrist that held the power of a storm itself.

Kaus waited in case the captain had any other information to share, any other questions. Otherwise, he was content to remain on the deck while the crew remained more comfortable, enclosed. The deck was somewhat protected from the elements thanks to clever warding, but he was also rather immune to its deleterious effects. In any case, the captain would likely have more intelligence with regard to the creature's current whereabouts than Kaus.

The Avialae lordling thought he felt a tug in a certain direction, but he didn't know if that was from the spirit in his dream or his own imagination.

Kaus nodded. North coincided with his internal compass and made him lean a bit closer to belief that it was something true and not imagined.

"I will leave estimation of your odds to you," he declared. "If it comes to violence, you will have the opportunity to gauge its strategies against me. But I would err on the side of caution. I was under the impression that it was a white dragon, which your government has corroborated. The most logical conclusions are that it is either an opal dragon, whose weapons are insidious--madness and addiciton, or a hollow dragon, in which case your honored dead might be defiled and sent against you."

He grimaced. While Kala practiced necromancy with some skill, she was a healer. In fact, she often called it animancy, focusing on the living side of the coin. The only hollow dragon he knew was Fletcher, the unpleasant man who ran Dust to Dawn. Some wise decisions made early in her study of necromancy had seemed to impress him, or perhaps she had charmed him the way she had the very gods. That gave him little in the way of relevant intelligence, though, should he come up at odds with a hollow dragon.

"That seems like a logical place to start," he agreed. And so soon enough they were underway, and Kaus kept out of the way. He had much to consider and while he wasn't as able at meditating as his sister, he did try to reach that calm from which a warrior could react to anything. After all, the spirit had come to him, and he was the warrior, albeit trained to diplomacy. Kala was the diplomat, trained to battle.

He wished she were there. He wished the Silver Wings were there, too. He wished he didn't have to rely upon soldiers who hated his people on principle, but he supposed that all these factors that pushed him out of his comfort were meant to make him grow.

They were challenges, not problems. He would overcome them.

Anyone who knew Kaus would have been taken aback. The youngest Leukos was like a breath of fresh air in a stagnant room, the promise of spring after a long winter. Out of the shadow of his gigantic brother, he was a tall, proud warrior. Out from behind his sister, always supporting, he looked capable of anything. Were it not for his wings, this ship's crew might have followed him to the Hellmaw. Thankfully, however dire the trouble, it was not to that scale.

He did not ask for food or shelter from the frigid winds. He bore the slings and arrows in those eyes and muttered curses nobly, no ire rising, nor recrimination. At the tavern, he sat quietly, listened attentively, and took copious notes. Wings or not, the storyteller was unused to one of high birth giving him such undivided attention. When he was done, Kaus thanked him earnestly as if they were equals, and quit the tavern as if he had been shown unparalleled hospitality. Some few people might have felt a built guilty when he disappeared onto the airship, feeling the cognitive dissonance of treating someone horribly who had only come to help them. Some others buried such feelings. It was necessary to have someone to hate in life, and who easier to hate than a man who could fly.

"I would suggest retreating beyond the... aura of dread," he said, still careful not to give orders but merely polite suggestions. "Of, if you wish to remain close enough for a possible tactical strike, I can add a layer onto your wards to counteract it. I think." He was quite adept at warding, but he didn't have a great deal of experience warding against draconic influences. It would be a challenge, but he was certain he could at least shunt some of it away from captain and crew.

Grateful that the captain's care of crew and ship superseded whatever racism he carried in his heart, Kaus found the anchor to Sturmreiter's wards and delicately laid his own anchor around it. He wasn't meddling with those wards, which Stadelmayer could later verify with warders in the High City. It took some time, but eventually a gossamer thin layer of warding laid over the permanent wards like a patina on well-loved and cared for wood. Everyone felt the sense of dread ease. It didn't disappear; he hadn't cut them off from awareness of it entirely, but it would likely not negatively impact their duties, at least.

"If I bolt of lightning seeks me out of a cloudless sky, please flee. If I do not see you again, thank you for your aid." He paused, then moved to where the taffrail curved down into the deck and there was nothing to protect him from falling. "Well, wish me luck."

With a quirk of a smile, he leaned backward until he fell from the airship's deck toward the dark scar marring the blanket of snow. His wings snapped open eventually, slowing his descent. From a closer range, he scanned the area, then darted downward, a most agile flier, toward where he hoped he might make contact with the dragon. He bore no visible weapon, though he could pull them out of the aether at need. Violence, he hoped, would not be ready, but he was ready if it proved necessary.

From afar and from within, he felt a pulse of support from his sister, and that made him smile.

Kaus left his elemental wards upon those of the airship, and took both the warning and the flares with him, tucking the former away in his mind and the latter in his raiment. Tracking the wyrm from here was no difficult feat. He went where his heart told him not to, into the heart of dread and despair. This was a dragon, not the Hellmaw, but it was the Avialae defense against the Hellmaw that kept him from crumpling out of the sky.

Raithen was too far to feel, and he would have felt safer for the dux at his side. Most of the Silver Wings were too far to feel as well, even with the stronger bonds. He thought he could feel Asallon aboard Blue Star hovering above Zaichaer, though it might just have been through his sister and her heavenly connections. He could feel Kala, her warmth and her unconquerable love. It kept him shielded from the worst of the dragon's aura.

When the invisible eye pierced him and the voice followed, he found a convenient boulder to land upon. He looked about, not seeing the "whitescale" his dreaming visitor had mentioned, but he supposed the dragon would reveal itself if it chose to. He bowed in the direction he thought felt more dreadful than any other. He wondered whether this wyrm was of significant age and power above and beyond Fletcher in Kalzasi or if the cantankerous shopkeeper merely shrouded his power better. His shop definitely felt off, but then he reveled in the creepiness people associated with necromancy even though most necromancers in his experience were healers and mediums seeking to ease bodies into health and souls to their peaceful end.

The voice was in his mind, somewhat akin to how Kala spoke when she spoke as a Moritasi. He tried to respond in kind.

Well met, Hollow One, And then he purposefully relived the dream that had sent him hither, pushing it out of his mind as best he could to share it. He didn't want to battle a dragon, but he would if the Gods willed it—even a dead one. But he hoped that he was misinterpreting things, that he could find a diplomatic solution. That was more Kala's bailiwick than his, but Mother Naori hadn't given her this quest. It had fallen to him.

Seek the dragon white as winter... Spring must come again... He had wondered if there were new some dragonflight of winter that had brought this Eclipse, this unending winter. There was too much he didn't know, which he hoped wouldn't be the end of him.

I do not know why I am the messenger rather than someone else...

Kaus staggered under the onslaught of the dragon's mind. Nessena was gentle for all that her kin were the dragonflight of death. They had met her as a young wyrmling in the arms of the lady of midnight mourning. Kaus didn't claim to understand the relationship between the Grimlord and Lyren, the god of Death and of Undeath. While his situation might have some similarities with the dragon's, he figured the dragon understood that divine tension better than he ever would.

At first, what was forcibly imprinted upon his mind seemed insufficient to the task, but as he blinked away the disorientation, certain things began to fall into place. He needed to leave, though; he could not concentrate upon the new challenge while holding his own against the dragon's aura.

As you say. Until then.

With that, he marshaled all his strength to fling himself aloft, feeling as though he was fighting gravity more than normal. The higher his beating wings took him, the more buoyant he felt, and he made for the Zaichaeri warship to reconvene with its captain. As he related the parley, he began to feel something strange, as though there were a compass inside him pointing... Ice blue eyes shot in that direction.

"We could return to the High City," he said, "seek aid from a Kindred dowser or the like. However, I can only assume that what the dragon seeks must be nearer to us than to the city. After all, it has been here looking for some time. I believe I can sense its direction now. The sooner we find it, the sooner it will leave peacefully. That would be the best solution. Do you concur, Kapitän?"

If he had his druthers, he would already be flying toward that lodestone that drew him, but he too had been trained to diplomacy and didn't want to cause an incident. Cooperation was key.