A Place of Life and Death #3
"They may be ruffians and criminals, capable of the most heinous things... but believe it or not, the various criminal groups actually do have a loose hierarchy and command structure. It's mainly held together by ambition and the fear of a select few powerful men and women,
but it is an organization all the same."
Trent looked over the item quickly before lifting it above his head so that we dragons could get a better look at it without knocking the humans over.
It looked like a giant coin of sorts, made out of a metal thin and light enough that it seemed to be easy to dent and bend.
Not very sturdy. But at the center of the disk was an emblem of sorts: a snarling two-headed dog standing atop two crossed polearms with three roughly carved stars in the background.
For some reason I had half expected to just see a skull and crossbones, even though we were far from any ocean or pirates as far as I knew.
Then again, bandits were just land pirates, right?
"It looks familiar..." mused Leon, drawing my eyes from the disk to the prince's face.
He was wearing his 'pondering' face again: one arm warped around his thin waist, the elbow of the other resting upon it, and his chin resting upon the other hand.
His bright eyes were downturned and slightly squinted as he tried to remember something niggling just at the corners of his mind.
"It should," stated Trent as he lowered the arm holding the disk, reexamining the thing himself. "It's the emblem of the Slaughter Hounds. They are a fairly well-known pain in the kingdoms' side, made all the more so after they got their new leader about five years ago."
"Can the dragoons not easily remove a bunch of dirty bandits?"
I asked, my opinion of the male drakes suddenly plummeting by the second.
They were just poorly organized humans with pointy sticks...
surely dragons and the men and women acknowledged by them would be more than adequate to wipe them off the map?
Noting my disgusted tone, Trent chuckled.
"Most new criminal organizations get snuffed out quite quickly. Even if we dragoons aren't the first to touch them, the other organizations handle it themselves. The fact of the matter is that the stronger the force policing the masses, the stronger the criminals they must police. After all,
in the fight for survival, the strong win out."
"Most long-standing groups—like the Slaughter Hounds—have been around since the early days of the dragoons, and some even predate them," explained Kalon.
"One could even say that such groups were one of the things that necessitated the formation of the Dragoon order in the first place. It was a time of great evils, and the legacy of those evils still exists today, no matter our efforts."
"So, they aren't merely bandits?" I asked, eyeing the shabby corpses once again. They looked like regular bandits...
"None of the other bodies have any insignia, and their gear is actually quite lacking for a group like the Slaughter Hounds," observed Trent, pawing through the other bodies without a second thought. I supposed this sort of work was old news to him now.
"Only the higher-ups would have one. And even then it would be strange to find it if they were trying to be stealthy and hide who they are."
Kalon stated blandly while Trent nodded.
It was clear that they both knew this information and were just imparting the knowledge upon their cadets.
"Slaughter Hounds are not known for their clandestine endeavors, but their clothes and armor make me think that this job- whether it be dragon killing or egg snatching- was not supposed to lead back to them..."
"Well, it has," I growled, my voice sounding dangerous even to myself, a lick of smoke trickling from one nostril. Even Leon backed away a little as I towered over the corpses of my mother's killers.
I'd been angry and vengeful simply thinking of them bandits who were hiding in the forest and just happened to stumble upon a dragoness and her eggs...
but having even the slightest proof that this had all been planned from the beginning?
That my mother had been hunted! Like they thought her to be some sort of prey animal, rather than the queen-of-land-and-sky that she rightfully was?
A seething, murderous intent was burning in my belly.
My jaw opened slightly.
"Move!" bellowed Trent, grabbing Leon's collar and dragging him back in a manner not quite dignified for a prince. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Grysbok wrap a paw around Benson and yank the young man back into his scaly chest before curling himself around the boy protectively.
On pure instinct, I felt biology and magic mix within me, causing the burning sensation to burble up before escaping my maw in a roaring torrent of pink-tinted flames with licks of vibrant blue at their center.
The oddly colored flames blasted down upon the bones, leather, and hunks of metal left behind by my very first enemies.
Still atop my head, Momma let out an irritated trill but still refused to move.
Never mind the strange color or the oddly brave bird... I'd just breathed fire!