Gorranach lets himself fall in next to Nix as they trudge through the endless hills, their footsteps now leaving muddy prints wherever the grass hasn’t taken hold. “So that Xerniss — she actually the first Dracovian you met?”
Gorranach
Nix
A wave of relief washes over Nix as he hears those Draconic words. He was certainly getting better at Auridian but it was exhausting to second-guess every word that left his mouth — and although he rarely spoke Draconic in his actual birthplace, the language felt like home. Quite ironic, really.
“It didn’t cross my mind in the heat of it all, but actually, yes — she is the first Dracovian that I’ve laid eyes on.” Nix’s mind visibly wanders for a beat before reaching a saddening realisation. His head droops and he quietly utters “Unfortunately…” His eyes focus back up on Gorranach. “How about you? A dwarf speaking Draconic? Surely you’ve met your fair share!”
Gorranach
“A privilege of growing up at Dragonstone.” Gorranach walks even straighter than normal as he says this, looking visibly proud. “My father would offer a warm bed and a seat at our dinner table to any travelling Dracovian. It’s been my family’s custom since the very time my ancestors acquired the name Dragonguard. In fact, we were forbidden from speaking anything but Draconic in the dining room — even when there were no guests. Good practice, Lord Dagda called it.” Gorranach lets out a short chuckle. “Though a little awkward whenever the guests weren’t Dracovian.”
He then looks at Nix with curious eyes for a moment. “You said ‘unfortunately.’ I know that Dracovians are even less common outside of Friust, but is there another reason you’ve never met one?”
Nix
“Your father sounds like a fine dwarf, friend. It’s a shame these last few weeks haven’t taken place in your dining hall — my tongue tires from tripping over this Auridian language.” Nix matches Gorranach’s chuckle with a short laugh of his own, then sighs deeply.
“I was bought by a half-elf family in Seishin Harbour. My egg was stolen from my clan’s settlement and then illegally sold as a dragon’s egg.” A nervous chuckle escapes his mouth. “The fools believed it to be true, paid a fortune for me, and then resented me for being a Kobold — a ‘False Dragon.’”
Nix’s body stiffened with quiet anger for a few beats, until… relief? He’d met a small amount of people since arriving on this continent but he was now amongst friends — a feeling he’d been without since running away — and sharing a small piece of his past with Gorranach lifted a small weight from his shoulders. “So I grew up away from my kin, confined in a small wood-shop where I’d make instruments to earn my owners their money back. A prisoner — a slave, almost.”
Gorranach
“False Dragon?” Gorranach stares ahead silently for several moments while they crest another soggy hill. “So they got a child that didn’t meet their expectations, and made it pay for their mistakes.”
“How did you get away? Did you pay off what they felt you owed them?”
Nix
“Quite the opposite, unfortunately… I’m afraid that I may have made them pay.” Nix sighs deeply and then shuffles uncomfortably, clearly not at peace with what happened. “I’m afraid that they paid the ultimate price… I can’t be certain though — I fled as soon as my flames filled the shop, but my… ‘father’” Nix almost spat that word out so as to distance himself from it. “…He was still in there.”
Nix allowed his tale to linger for a second or two before catching Gorranach’s eye. “Please don’t think any less of me, friend. If I had cowered as I usually did, I fear that I would’ve died in that shop. He pushed too hard that evening and my instinct took over.”
Gorranach
Gorranach eyes Nix for a while with furrowed brows — it is obvious he is reassessing him, troubled, unsure. “You are quite capable. Could you not have left? Was there no way… for both of you to live, father and child?” He looks away as he asks the last part. It doesn’t even sound like an accusation — more a wishful plea.
Nix
“Believe me, friend — I tried to escape.” Nix lifts his sleeve to reveal scarred scales adorning the length of his arm. “In fact, most of these lines signify a failed attempt.” Nix lets his silks fall back down to his wrist before lifting his other sleeve, revealing an arm that had faced a similar fate. “I’m covered in them, Gorranach. It started as punishment for trying to escape but, soon enough, I didn’t even need to do anything wrong to receive a beating. My fath—” Nix stops himself saying the word. “Sho-Jin. He would find any reason to hit me — a lost game of cards, after an argument with his wife, a slow day at the shop. I wasn’t his son, I was his secret punching bag — an embarrassing stain on his stellar reputation. And he would’ve killed me that night. I know it.”
Gorranach
“I am glad then… that you’re alive.” Gorranach ponders this for a while before speaking again. “Do you know what clan they took your egg from?”
Nix
“Thank you — me too, friend. I’m afraid that I don’t. We had tried all that we could to locate them with the hope of one day escaping…” Nix’s hand falls to find his Biwa and a longing smile appears on his face. “Omi and I — but my fleeing would’ve stopped any progress there.” The smile quickly falls before he catches himself. “Your betrothed… Merthal, was it? How are you coping with being away from her?”
Gorranach
“Merthal Goldenheart. A sturdy lass with a lovely name. But I must confess, I do not know her all that well yet. I have met her a few times but only once since the engagement — I went on the Iron Quest soon after.” Gorranach takes off his helmet and scratches his head. “I tried to write a… ehm… love letter two weeks ago, but it’s harder than I thought.” He puts the helmet back on and clears his throat. “This Omi — he or she make the biwa you carry?”
Nix
“I’ve seen you slay beasts triple your size and heal people moments from death, and you’re struggling with a love letter?!” Nix allowed a chuckle to spill from his mouth to show Gorranach he was joking. “Love is a battle that’s often tougher than most imagine — I’ll give you that. I know it’s probably deeply personal and intimate, but I’m happy to help if you need it, friend. Merthal deserves to see the Great Golden Gorranach in all of his glory!”
“Yes, this instrument was crafted by her.” Nix strums a chord which immediately slips out of tune ever so slightly. He quickly adjusts one of the bleached bone tuning pegs, bringing beauty back to the sound as Gorranach had seen him do so many times in battle. “She’s certainly no luthier, but this Biwa reminds me of her — so, to me, it is perfect. I’ll never forgive her father or brother for the pain they caused me, but she always tried her best to protect me, often getting herself hurt in the process.” Nix’s head falls. “By the elements, I hope she’s safe. I did my best to ensure that she’ll be fine, but I was in such a rush to get on the first ship across the Azure Expanse. What if I missed something?”
He shuffles and searches for something else to talk about. “Sorry, friend — I haven’t spoken about this to anybody before this evening. It really does spill out of you when you pop the cork, eh?! This Iron Quest — what does it entail? Do all Dragonguards take part?”
Gorranach
“Not a Dragonguard tradition — an old Dwarvish one. My mother’s a Rocksculptor — her family name, not her profession. She’s from a long line of blacksmiths, which allows members of my family to send me on the Iron Quest somewhere between adulthood and marriage.” Gorranach strokes his beard. “It’s not really something that’s done anymore though, with how generally peaceful the ages have been. I might be the first in a hundred years.”
“You mentioned spilling after popping the cork — and I suppose I owe you the same in return.” He sighs. “I want to marry Merthal, I do, but my father is rushing this faster than a rock off a cliff. I wasn’t ready yet. I’m still… working on things. So, I invoked the Iron Quest on myself. I’m not sure if that’s been done before, but when I researched it, I realized there was no reason the ‘member of my family’ couldn’t be me. My father wasn’t pleased.”
“Ah, but you of course asked what it was.” Gorranach lets out a single chuckle. “The concept is simple, but not easy. You strike out on your own and you find some old work or relic — sometimes an artpiece, anything that could be significantly useful to your family’s interest — and then you restore it. One part adventure, one part proving yourself as a craftsman. Family or anyone in their employ are not allowed to help, which prevented my father from sending a retinue with me.”
Kicking a rock down the steep muddy slope beside him, he adds: “Being a Dragonguard, my relic’s gonna have to be a lick more impressive than just a restored Yorinor statue.”
Nix
“You don’t owe me anything, Gorranach.” Nix says with a hand on the dwarf’s shoulder. “However, I appreciate you doing so, and I’ll always lend a hand or an ear if it’s needed. I’ve been without friends for most of my life and, whilst fate may have dictated our being together, I’m rather enjoying our little group.” Nix couldn’t help but catch himself grinning.
“This Iron Quest certainly sounds like an interesting tradition! It’s a shame about the circumstances and that your father didn’t embrace your decision — but I’m sure he’ll come around when you return with your restored relic…” Nix’s hands clap together in excitement. “Maybe a mounted Animental trophy will do the trick!”
With a wink and a pat on Gorranach’s back, Nix reaches for his Biwa and falls back into formation — playing a song as he relocates to the centre of the pack.