Gallajorn Jarlkin had awoken from his century long power nap a few months ago. Dwelling in the mountains of Jarlun, this specific Drogon had secluded itself away from the others and was proud of the collection of odds and ends he had...procured over the years.

Gallajorn was a proud thing. Excited to be awake, to check on his things, to guide his people. His long endeavor to breed enough humans to start his own colony had come to fruition many years ago. He decided to slumber for such a short amount of time, for you see a hundred year nap to a Drogon was but a few moments.

So when he swept down from his Mountains to his Humans colony, he was not prepared. At all. For as he swooped down upon what he thought was just a smattering of huts and fires and 20 of the damned things, there were solid free standing structures, barns and shops. The colony had turned into a town. A bustling, vibrant thing that spread out neatly for the Humans. Which baffled Gallajorn.

What amazed the Drogon Gallajorn the most, was that the environment around the Human colony wasn't desolate. It was serene. Green, well maintained fields, livestock everywhere. Even brief puffs of steam could be seen. A sad sign, Gallajorn thought to himself. It was always the steam engine that began the ending of most Human colonies. It always rapidly progressed from that point, and they always destroyed themselves. It was a perpetual cycle of futility to them, but endlessly amusing to the long living Drogons.

Inspecting the lands of the Humans, and noting that they had indeed listened to his only command before going to sleep: Do not leave the shaded valleys of Jarlun. Though secluded from the rest of the Drogon Empire, Gallajorn was dangerously close to the Dyadic Accordant. A small Dyadic college town was many leagues away, yet he had not worried about any of his pets escaping that far. Not overly concerned, and from the way things looked his experiment was a rousing success.

"I must speak to their leader." he rumbled to himself, tilting his wing and dipping to find a place to land. His large Drogon form would certainly bring terror to the Humans below. He had flown high enough, his vision good enough that he was sure he hadn't been seen.

As he swooped in to land, he noticed that the humans in the town had begun to gather. A large, open field had been cleared in its center, and near its edge, closest to the largest and most ornate building stood a tall tower, bright flags flying. Gallajorns sharp vision caught a sight that made him smile.

Humans had gathered on the Tower, and all around its base, and in the clearing, which Gallajorn noted was roped off so no one could get into it. In the tower, gray bearded and hunched Human males stood.

Gallajorn smirked at himself, huge teeth gleaning in the bright twin suns of Terragia. His dull gray scales started to shimmer, turning a faint silver. If they were expecting something great, Gallajorn was gonna show up scaled to the nines!

In my dreams, hurried voices and thumping exclamations intermingled with the existential dread and misery of why I had lost my consciousness. The darkness was welcoming in a way. What seemed like years passed, until the dull grayness of my brainmeat firing back up seeped through. I blinked my eyes as I realized I was laying on the table in the Maesterium Hall, and all the Maesters were all awake.

That thought made me sit up quickly.

To my left, Maester Surmond apparently sat smoking his ornate smoking bowl. My sudden rising from unconsciousness like that must have startled old Surmond for he dropped his bowl and screamed at the top of his lungs. His eyes shot wide, and he slid his chair back quickly. The sound of the chair legs on the solid wood floor let out a horrible, terrible sound just as the bowl he was smoking shattered.

All the Maesters that were mingling around the Hall went quiet and stared at me. The echoing of the chair died. The tinkling of broken glass. A Maester coughed. Another sniffing his nose. Hogan, poor hobbled Hogan stood in the corner, hat in hand, staring down. He was bruised, clothes rumpled and dirty. The human, now garbed in makeshift clothing, sitting at the table. A look of bewilderment and terror showed true on its ugly, pale face.

As I began to comprehend my surroundings, a shaky voice finally broke the uneasy silence.

"Yoan! You're awake. We have much to discuss about this late evenings events."

Maester Joheph, High Seer of the Maesterium, ancient in wisdom and age, powerful in the Aetherarts, leader of the Maesterium Aetheric Arts Guild stared at me with eyes filled with terror.

That did not make me, a lowly Dyad Servant, feel any better.

"Yes. Maester. I'll tell you everything that I know." I replied, having scooted myself off of the table and standing up. I wobbled a bit, still light headed.

"Before I do that though, let me clean this glass up. Maesters, please, don't step in the glass!" I exclaimed, having made my way to the broom closet beside Hogan. I opened it, shaking, going through the motions of my daily, ever dutiful role as servant. The Maesters all murmured thanks and grunts, as I swept up the glass. I piled it neatly and swept it expertly into a dustpan, and tossed it into the flames of the fireplace burning furiously away nearby.

If there was anything in the Dyadic society, it was To Serve, before all else, Duty First. The rote actions calmed my mind. It allowed me to set the evenings events in the right order. I strode back to the broom closet, replaced the items, closed the door and nodded at Hogan. He didn't look up from the floor. A bit of ochre blood dripped from a slowly healing cut on his gray face. A pang of guilt washed over me. I placed my hand on his shaking shoulders, and he began to sob openly.

"Hush the Horken, Yoan. We will deal with him soon enough. Now come tell us what has happened. This human here..."

Maester Surmond had resumed his seat, placing a arm around the puny human. It cowered away, but did not attempt to flee. Surmond smiled strangely, eyes glazing over from the Aetherweed.

"...is to be taken care of and safe from any harm. Do you understand, Yoan?"

Maester Kilik stepped forward. Killik, Maester Ironjoiner and Grand Fabricator shook as he spoke.

"Yes, which is why it has been bathed and clothed, and Cook currently has appropriate foodstuffs prepared for it to eat. It appears young, at least for a Human, and male. The Brand though! Terragia be with us!"

Murmuring, quick agreements and mumbled cursing. I squeezed Hogans shoulder, and turned to face my Elders. I walked back to the table, pulled a chair out, and sat in front of the Human in question. It stared at me, then just let its eyes wander around the Maesterium. I ignored it, closing my eyes and trying to concentrate.

I gathered my wits and began to speak.

"I was asleep when Hogan startled me awake. I assumed he was just drunk, but he informed me of having found a Human. I followed him to the eastern root cellar. Passed out. That, Maesters, is all I know. Oh, and Drogons are surely coming."

The finality of my statement seemed to drape over the Maesters, as they mingled amongst themselves.

Maester Joheph raised his arms, and shouted at the top of his lungs.

"SILENCE!"

A hush washed over the Hall. The human, and Surmond pulled it in close. It barked and yelped, but didn't resist.

"We shall not panick! All will be well within our hallowed halls my fellow Maesters! Do not fret! We shall feed and care for that..." Joheph pointed at the Human, who had wriggled out of Surmonds grasp..."will be handed over to whichever Drogon comes and gets it!"

The Maesters compound was quite large. I was thankful that Hogan hadn't left the human somewhere too far away. I was exhausted from the days work and not thrilled at loosing precious hours of sleep on some fool errands. In my mind, I was fooling myself over and over again.

Maybe drunk Hogan thought he saw a Brand? It was dark and foggy out, I know full well he doesn't walk with a lantern at night. It's all a figment of his imagination! What Drogon would ever let a human out of its reach? Nor, there hadn't been any Drogons near this part of the Dyad Empire. Centuries had passed since the last!

"Right?" I said out loud, which startled Hogan.

"Wut, Yoan?" The poor Horken looked at me, tusks nubbed with age. His leather gray face contorted in confusion. For a Horken, he wasn't by any standard handsome. Compared to the more elegant Dyads like myself at least.

"Nothing, Hogan. Do we have much father to go? Where did you hide this human away?" The thumping Hogan huffed, and continued to walk. A few more moments passed, and we entered the side hall of the Maesters quarters. Closing the simple wooden door we entered, we stepped down and around into a damp, cramped basement.

"You brought the poor thing to the root cellar, Hogan? I know its a Human but even they like the light. I bet it's scared out of its wits!" My voice was starting to rattle, as we approached the door to the root cellar in question.

"'It's in here, Yoan. Lemme unlock the door. I got it trussed up nice so it won't bite. It was cold and weak, but still tried to get away. I bonked it a bit and drug it back here."

Hogan had unlocked the cellars door and pulled it open, stepping out of the way to let the sputtering torch light above the door in. I grabbed it and walked deeper in. The smell of damp earth and semi-rooting vegetables assaulted my nostrils. Then a unique, very musky smell began to come through, almost overpowering even.

I inched forward until a pale foot creeped out of the inky darkness. I stepped forward, and there in the corner lay a male human, tied at the hands and feet with a gag, glaring at me. On its chest, a shimmering brand, the skin around it pale white and scarred. The human began to try and get away from me, and I took a step back, startled.

I wasn't startled by the humans sudden movement no. Not at all, I could handle a weak, pitiful human. They bled such a crimson red, and made such strange things. No, a puny human did not rattle my brain or quicken my heartrate.

It was The Brand.

It was an Aethilic Sigil, a special Brand Drogons used only on very special things. Things they coveted most dearly, above even their own lives. Something so precious, death would be a pleasure to recover.

"Hogan, I am going to pas..." were the last words I uttered before the blackness took me.

Thank you! I'll try writing a next part!

Old Hogan was the one who found them, huddled and scared on the side of the Laneway heading into town. Poor Hogan was heading back from his favorite pub when he happened upon the wretched thing, cold and weak from exposure.

I was asleep, having stoked the fires of the Maesters rooms and ensuring all the doors and windows were locked when Hogan barged into my room.

"Yoan, we have a problem!"

Hogan half whispered, half murmured as my door banged open. I shot out of bed, the twilight of sleep washed away by the rude surprise. Clothed in nothing but my gracious skin, Hogan promptly turned around and closed the door before then knocking politely...before opening the door and stating again;

"Yoan! We have a problem and sorry I didn't knock."

Still naked, I began to dress and question Hogan about the problem 'we' had. Since I was asleep, in my room, and couldn't fathom what could be the problem I assumed that Hogan was just drunk and confused.

"Ok, Hogan. Explain to me 'our' problem so I can fix it. Did you beat a wench at the pub again? I have only so much coin to spare for your shenanigans."

Hogan huffed at me as I said this, shaking his head.

"Naw, Yoan, its na' that. At all. I have plenty of coin myself to pay a Death tax. Naw, 'tis here is something worse. It's a human, and its Branded."

I was listening to Hogan half heartedly, absent-mindedly dressing myself. I had slipped a few golden Dakas into my pocket as he spoke, smiling at the sheer absurdity at Hogans words. It was the tinkling of the gold in my pocket, the rattle of the silver candlestick as I bumped into my nightstand on the way out of my room when Hogans words dawned on me.

"Branded?" I croaked out, freezing as I crossed the threshold of my bedroom.

Hogan had his beat up hat in his hands, staring at me with almost tears in his eyes. The single candle he held sputtered and died. I took a sharp breath, trying to slow the sudden rise in my heartrate. Humans were like vermin to the Horken and Dyads, who viewed Terragia as sacred. The Humans, they spread like a disease across the vast continents of Terragia since their arrival via the Heavens thousands of years ago. They dug and burned and built, destroying to support their society and people. Hogan, poor Hobbled Hogan was wounded by one of them during The War.

"Where is this Branded human, Hogan? What trouble have you brought home at this time of night?"

Hogan nodded and just turned and headed up the dark hallway of the Servant Quarters. I heard him begin to thump up the stairs into the Hall of the Maesterium, as I dutifully followed him toward this Human he was speaking of. In a way, I was excited. In another, I knew deep down there was trouble coming.

Only Drogons branded anything, and only Drogons scared the Maesters.