Runaway dragon – Chapter 3

Switching locales had certainly seemed like an apt notion. Not solely as a result of that there wasn’t any door remaining upon the hinges of Eyren’s room entry, but it could very well be a rise of future assaults as well, which they would absolutely seek to avoid. Eyren and her savior had managed to chase out those scoundrels who’d intruded upon it, but sticking around while eyes were on her, well, this doesn’t suit her in the slightest. Standing as a hunter in her own right, she’s conscious of what the role of a prey is wont to be, and she won’t have it.
Thankfully, this Nivra had graciously guided her to a decent substitute, a nook by the bottom floor corner, where they’ve carried her stuff and sequestered themselves in. Hoping to heal won’t be a quick affair, but with the bandages and tinctures she keeps in her bag for this exact situation, she has confidence she’s not gonna fall apart in a second, at least.

The compartment she’s popped into at this moment is not unlike the one she slept in earlier, as the sizes don’t vary tremendously in this type of establishment. Currently, she’s seated on a minor footstool which Nivra had managed to score from somewhere, positioned in merely her leggings. By contrast, her upper body is lying bare besides a piece of cloth enclosing her medium-sized chest. The view which people would likely take in though is her exposed arm and torso muscles, ones that verify her as a well-honed and adept warrior, who doesn’t handily let her physique go.

Having been gone for a minute, it doesn’t take long for Nivra to resume her presence in the room, carrying a bowl and some pieces of fabric.
“There we go”, she says. “Found some wet cloth and extra bandages. Let’s wrap up those wounds now, shall we?”

They took care of one cut that Eyren had along her belly, but her arm is still sort of busted up, even if it’s a degree of pain which she can bear. Nonetheless, she nods at her savior.
“My thanks. Although I can probably address this on my own, if you’d like…”

With a slanted smile, the dragon-horned lady sits down not far from her companion.
“Ah c’mon, don’t be like that. Not gonna just sit and watch while you struggle to set it up. Wouldn’t be right.”

“Tsk. If you say so”, Eyren responds, but her own lips do tilt into a similar motion.

This closeness between them has granted Eyren the ability to grasp two aspects of this Nivra: the first is that her accent is clearly eastern just like the thugs they faced earlier, meaning she has to be a native Ahterilonan, while the second is more related to that Nivra has on a couple of occasions seemed to be checking Eyren’s body out. Whether it’s through liking what she observes or not is unclear. Then again, she can’t blame her, for Eyren has reciprocated this gesture. Nivra is a beautiful woman, in a fierce sort of way. She’s a warrior of a flavor that’s closer to a free spirit than an elaborate order like where Eyren herself originates.

Aside from these musings, Eyren has to own up to the fact that she’s been zooming in on the explicit ‘dragon’ aspects of this lady. It’s clear Nivra is far from a dragon of myth and lore, since those giant beasts or monsters or whatever one cares to denominate them as reserve a measure of abilities and traits which no human can possibly contain, including flight and fire-breathing. Nivra is a more down-to-earth personality, and besides expressing emotions on occasion through the tilt of her tail like any human with animalistic body parts of that ilk, she doesn’t appear hugely distinguishable.

And why would she believe so to begin with? Well, perhaps it’s grounded in that people with ‘draconic’ aspects are awfully rare in this world and most cultures have varying views about them. She can only look to her own home region, and the largest city, Gryterhung. Situated by the base of the mountains in the central area of the province, their logo is quite regionally famous, for it portrays a roaring three-headed direwolf topped with draconic horns, stood on two legs and clutching a great battleaxe. It’s based off the legend of the warlord Hagir-yon who commissioned and assisted in the construction of the city hundreds of years prior, said to be ferocious in battle, howling like a wolf in his mad battlerage, and the sporting of dragon horns was something the people haven’t overlooked. In Steorshlag, draconic traits have consistently symbolized strength and dominance, and Hagir-yon wasn’t the only example of this.
But they’re in no way the sole region with such fairytales. Along the western sides here in Ngoyamen by the Slithering Desert, there are anecdotes of draconic traits signifying prosperity, where myriad residents insist they’re a telltale mark of sensational treasure seekers.
Up in the northwestern province of Geb’nijk, these same features are argued to be blessings by spirits from deep within their vast forests, ferried to civilization to sustain the security of those lodged there, resembling a gift from the supernatural. Should one look deeper into that region, towards the city of Wrocinsk in the midst of the woods, they regale visitors of how dragon-horned individuals are reborn wardens of the earth, made up of souls assembled of the ancestors.
Peeking into the central-western riverlands of Shaim Xil, these hallmarks upon humans identically subsist, but supposedly with unidentical origins, for they’re rather viewed as belonging to demons of a distant creek, or so Eyren was once told by a guardswoman. And like all demons, their fate is uncertain, leading people into luck or eternal rest.
Lastly, if Eyren scours her memory, she can recall a couple of remarks regarding where Nivra is likely from, in the old imperial Ahterilio. The easterners are liable to take both elements of Steorshlag and Shaim Xil, for dragon-imbued folks there are both emblems of power and of an ill fate, but in more warlike terms. Those with dragon horns in particular are doomed to squabble, for might or glory, until one surmounts the other.
Then again, it’s best not to mention this to Nivra, for there’s no doubt she’s heard these yarns earlier, and Eyren recognizes no mileage with vexing the woman who’s nurturing her at the moment.

As Nivra has gotten started with helping out to clean the northerner’s last lacerations, Nivra speaks up.
“Said your name was Eyren, right?”

“Yeah. Eyren Katlattar.”

“Heh, that’s a neat surname. Got any meaning?”

“I…suppose. The suffix ‘ttar’ in my home tongue means ‘child of’.”

“Ooh, right right. So child of Katla? That your mom?”

“…it is, yeah.”

Nivra smiles lightly and nods.
“Sadly there’s nothing like that we have where I live. I’m just plain ol’ Nivra.”

“It’s a nice one as well, though.”

“Thanks. Anyway, wanted to tell ya I brought some bread with me in that bag by the bed if ya’d like to have a snack later. Get some of your vigor back.”

“I appreciate that, and your kindness here in general, but…are you positive this is something you’re inclined to get stuck in?”

Glancing up into the navy blues of her companion, Nivra arches one of her eyebrows.
“Huh? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, I haven’t fleshed it out thus far, but you must’ve heard those brutes speaking with me previously, right? I came to capture you, same as them. Take some of that massive bounty on your head.”

With her gaze soon being submerged into a haze where she looks to be cultivating her sentiments on what it means, she ends up shrugging and halfway smiling.
“Yeah, I hear ya. Suppose I wasn’t blind to that when I pulled in either.”

“You knew?”

“Mhm. Been hunting for words of who’s been after me for weeks and you were one of those I picked up on.”

“Okay, then…why pull through for me in the first place?”

With a sigh between mildly parted lips, Nivra dips the cloth into the bowl of water again, her shoulders sagging.
“Honestly, the main part of that interference was outta sheer reflex. Felt wrong to watch them just murder someone in cold blood while I was in the neighborhood. But some minor part of me…figured I might be sweeping up an ally too.”

Eyren huffs with an amused tinge and shrugs.
“It’s true that it’d make me feel bad if I had to turn you in now that you’ve possibly saved my life, or contributed to it anyhow.”

Aiming a grin at her then, Nivra looks pleased.
“That’s good! If only that it signalizes ya got a heart.”

“Tsk, there’s a pretty grey zone whether everyone would coincide with you on that verdict, but alright. To lend support to this, though, could you maybe give insight into what precisely kind of mess you’re in? How come your bounty is so colossal, and why would piles of people chase after you?”

It’s around this time that she’s commenced wrapping bandages and poultices about Eyren’s wounds, albeit the warrior herself can fragmentarily reinforce these measures, to not just sit still and let Nivra be responsible for it all. Levelled with this request, Nivra doesn’t come off as overly happy for it, but reads as loosening to the fact that she has to be up front.
“…yeah, okay, if you insist. I’m not in a great seat, and a lot of it stems from…my homeland.”

“Ahterilio, right?”

“You got it. Clearly, you musta parsed by now that I’ve…trudged into a spot o’ trouble with the lords of my home.”

“No one else would have the authority or resources to issue a price of that many impercesms, so I had taken it as a given. You don’t have any grand merchants ruling territory over there, right?”

“Nah, it’s just nobility, like it has been for generations. And uh…well, this ambush you stomached, for me, it wouldn’t be the first. These days, I’m a highly wanted criminal to the east, but I’m not a thief or cutthroat or…any which way they depict me in the official propaganda.” Once she’s placed the final set of cloth where it should be, she tilts rearward and runs a hand down her protracted and micro-curled ponytail, conflicted whether she better speak closer on this topic or not, but since Eyren is open to it, Nivra is taking a chance. “Taking you in good faith, I’m telling ya that I’m a member of the Ahterilonan Resistance against Ennius.”

Eyren roves those hazel-greys which are fixated on her, analyzing not simply the title but the emotions which flushes Nivra’s visage.
“Ennius?”

“Yeah, surely you’ve minded his name beforehand? Ennius Coladeus Bayezild, the ‘Sun Lord’ of Nova’keshmir”, she goes, rolling her eyes while speaking the title.

At this juncture, Eyren’s vision fastens onto comprehension, her head dipping.
“Ah right, the southern city. Never visited it before, but I hear it’s a beautiful place.”

“It sure is, and it’s the region I grew up in, but it’s becoming less…manageable. Ennius has been rising in the previous several years, both up to the leadership of the coastal pearl as well as a military commander. He’s tryna build his forces and people are calculating whether he’s planning to start conquering the rest of Ahterilio…and rebuild the Empire.”

So, the easterners are on the warpath? History would be repeating itself. This draws a snort out of Eyren.
“He wouldn’t be the first to exert his will in that way.”

“He wouldn’t, but this man ain’t like his numerous predecessors. He’s a guy to be reckoned with, whether you’re from Ahterilio or not. I grew up and lived in the vicinity of Nova’keshmir, in an adjacent village. In just the preceding handful of years, he’s been recruiting hugely among the regular populace for his armies, in order to bring everyone into a grand conflict that’s gonna unite the eastern province once more. The Resistance I signed up with, we’re just ordinary citizens, folks from hamlets, farms and towns who were fed up with being extorted with higher tax rates, lower food supply, harsher laws and getting our families stolen. It was established not much behind his heightened conscription flow, with the singular goal of taking him down.”

“Based on that you’re here, I take it this didn’t end prettily.”

Nivra spews a breath from her lips and her head jerks side to side.
“Not even a little…
Six months past, I was entrusted with a critical mission for our organization, which included a means of…taking him out.”

“To assassinate him?”

“Something like that. Frankly, we just craved to get ‘im off the Shades-damned throne no matter the cost, but…we fumbled. Didn’t get close in the least, and I was locked up together with those from my team who survived, which weren’t many. A month ago, I finally managed to liberate myself, after an extensive series of interrogations and…other things.” Peering below, Eyren discerns how Nivra’s hand clutches and strains. “And here he’s hoping to drag me back in, to extract better intel on my comrades. I’m not gonna let that happen, regardless of that I gotta leave my home be. He can count me out of being his lil’ dirt puppet.”

Well, Eyren can’t dismiss the notion that Nivra is serious, and this pickle she’s stuck in is one that goes beyond what the knight would have any takeaways from. Even so, it wouldn’t be right to suggest it’s her only gripe with that she’s being relayed these ongoings, for the whole scenery is unlike what she’d be keen on.
“Sounds close to a pretty hairy picture you’re in. Very complex and with high stakes everywhere. Much as it may be, I’m not a woman who likes getting mired in politics.”

There’s a miniature twitch from the dragon-horned miss, prior to hiking a frown at the northerner.
“What? Politics? This is serious shit, y’know.”

“Wouldn’t put it past you that it is.”

“And you’d avoid it, in spite of that it numbers someone who can wreak grave havoc across the continent?”

Eyren casually shrugs her shoulders.
“That’s not my problem, or at a minimum, I wouldn’t fancy it becoming mine.”

“How so? Cuz you’re ‘just a bounty hunter’?”

“Not exactly. Mainly, I’m not a person who subscribes to ideals or causes. That’s for death-yearners like yourself.”

Laboring against the tag and the dismissive nature of Eyren’s statement, this doesn’t hold for Nivra past another half a minute, where she sighs.
“How disappointing…but I’m not your boss, so I’ll not shove it down your throat.”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t be feasible.”

Nivra tosses the cloth she was using to clean Eyren’s blood earlier into the bowl.
“Reckon you oughta get outta this room then, so you don’t end up in any ‘political debacle'”, she goes in a dejected tone.

When she rises and makes for the corner of the area where her bed is, Eyren feels how her heart does sting a little. Not to the point moving her to reassemble her mind entirely, but sufficient to offer some solace.
“Hold up. I didn’t tell you I’d forsake you in this place. You did practically save my ass earlier. I owe you a favor, and I repay my debts. I can still see you through exiting this city intact.”

Pausing halfway to her destination, Nivra circles around to peer sideways at the northerner.
“Despite that it might plunge you into a corner?”

“In this case, yes. I’m not that heartless.”

Letting her watch of the warrior proceed onwards for another ten seconds, Nivra lays a hand to her own hip and smiles lightly; a sight Eyren genuinely finds attractive.
“Well then…suppose that’ll do for me. Thanks.”