>>5536442You offer heartfelt praise and congratulations of your sons. The meat of the blue-beast is ruined by their feasting, their venom… And, you suspect, by its own burst organs and acrid secretions, unappetizing to you or any other subject of Bloodrise. You leave it where it lays.
“You did well!” you tell them. “This foe was unexpectedly dangerous, but through coordination and perseverance you brought it low.”
The Wyrmlings sing their strange songs and jiggle and wriggle in obvious jubilation at their father’s praise, Nptivisk leading the chorus… But you are conflicted. You look to Gohjavisk and Telovvisk—both ostracized, apart from the others and one another. Natvodask sees your celebratory mood waver, and quiets somewhat, tilting his head in curiosity. For all his eeriness, you recognize this as one of your own mannerisms. You wonder what he is thinking.
“Remember,” you tell them, “terrain is a key aspect of any campaign. You must deprive your enemy of his advantages. Whenever possible, choose the field of battle. Deny him shelter. Letting that beast get to water was a misstep that almost cost you a brother. Better teamwork would have allowed you to prevent it from ever reaching that point.”
Water is to be avoided, after all. It is safety and succor to the enemy, and it is bane to the likes of you—and nearly to your son.
The brothers seem to take it under advisement, quieting and chittering amongst themselves in hushed voices. Tonupask, at least, moves to rejoin his shamed siblings. They trail a little behind the others on the way home, but with your encouragement the full party of nine is eventually joined as one column again on the march home.
“They are good zonz!” Glowie enthuses when you tell them of your hunting trip’s success. “They will be good zoldierzz for uzz.”
“But they are not being good BROTHERS.”
Glowie hums thoughtfully, but you know her body language well enough by now to tell that she does not understand, and is humouring you.
“Healthy competition is fine,” you try to explain. “but not at the expense of their brethren. They abandon one another too readily in the face of death.”
“It izz the way for the weak to fall and zztrong to feazt, yezz?”
You hesitate before answering. That IS the way of things, isn’t it? The Red Dragon King said as much, even as he preached love. It’s what makes Draconic Love stronger than the weak mammalian concept propped up by the Gods of Light. But… Well, YOU couldn’t leave your sons to suffer or die, even to secure victory or teach them a lesson. You faced your greatest fear to save them from the wages of ‘weakness’.
(You remember the last words of Davora the Herbalist, your lost lover, and shake off a sudden wave of tumultuous emotion)
“That is not the love in my heart,” you pronounce. “That is not the way of Bloodrise, or of our family. It cannot be.”
