When our ranks begin to form

Writers: Corrin, Duskdog, Iluva, Sia
Date Posted: 15th April 2025

Characters: M'kadja, N'dhavi, K'valas, A'garyn
Description: After the brawl in the Holdless Camp, Akadja thanks his rescuers.
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 5, day 7 of Turn 12

M'kadja

N'dhavi

A'garyn

The camp had quieted, but it hadn’t calmed.

A few tents sagged where poles had been snapped or pegs had been kicked loose. The smell of scorched canvas clung to the camp air, tangled with mud, and sweat and sick. The fight had burned fast and dirty through the camp's narrow alleys and now it left behind a kind of hush that wasn’t peace-- just fatigue.

Akadja moved stiffly through the wreckage, ribs aching, nibbling some pocket cheese to replace the meal he’d lost, Naldhavi close by his side. They weren’t looking for trouble now. The brothers were looking for Them-- for the initial pair that had come to their aid in the fight. Things had been a little chaotic after the weyrguards arrived and Akadja hadn’t had a chance to say thank you-- or anything really.

So he was glad when he spotted their newly familiar faces at one of the camp fire pits. Making his way over, he helped himself to a seat nearby, wincing only slightly as he did. “You always jump into other people’s fistfights, or was I just lucky tonight?”

Kavalas sat a little too close to the fire, close enough that his face burned despite the evening chill. "You were lucky." He said gruffly. The cut on his lip stung when he talked. He studied Akadja for a moment. "You coulda had 'em if he hadn't brought his buddies."

Akadja laughed, a short, abrupt exhale through his nose. “And if I hadn’t let them get the drop on me too, eh?” He flashed a sharp, fleeting smile. He was well aware of how he screwed up. “I knew he’d be out for blood after dinner--I had my Dagger looking for him--but these sharding tents… they could hide a draybeast.”

He jerked a thumb up at a nearby tentpole where a small, steely blue firelizard was perched and watching Aegaryn’s gold intently. “That’s Dag,” he said simply. “I’m Akadja, and this is my brother Naldhavi. But anyway. You two didn’t have to throw in. We owe you one.”

He paused, then flashed that sharp flicker of a smile again. “Not like a _life_debt_ or anything, but we’ll remember what you did when you didn’t need to-- and maybe we’ll do something of the same.”

“Fair’s fair,” Naldhavi added with a nod and a smile notably easier than his brother’s. “What should we call you?”

It was a different question than “what’s your name”. Plenty of holdless had good reason to not want their names bandied about, and Naldhavi didn’t much care. They could say Faranth if they wanted -- all he cared about was having a label of _some_ sort.

Aegaryn watched the brothers with the lazy calm of a fed feline, his eyes catching firelight as he gulped from a stone-cold mug. There was ease in his posture, but not trust--just the quiet calculation of a man used to weighing threat and opportunity in equal measure. But what they were asking was more than that. There was rarely a man more slippery than one who owed a debt-- except perhaps the one determined to collect it.

Beside him, Kavalas hadn’t said anything else, but Aegaryn could feel his stillness--measured, listening. He'd learned to read him by breath and sight more than words, and tonight, Kavalas hadn't looked away from the brothers once.

“What you give’s your business,” Aegaryn said, though mostly for the record. The brothers clearly felt the same about it. For a heartbeat, he considered remembering more -- something about his own brothers, maybe -- but let the moment slip past. Instead, he glanced up toward the gold firelizard perched on the tent’s peak. She was a bright spark burning a hole in the darkness, the firelight dancing over the molten mirror of her hide. Her eyes, locked in a steady orange, were both statement and dare to anyone in their radius that night.

“Well, that’s Zolta. And I’m Aegaryn.” He caught Kavalas’ glance at that, faintly amused and unreadable, as always. But in this case, the benefits of disclosure were outweighing his instinct for deflection, and he nudged the kettle in the firebed with the toe of his boot. “There’s klah, if you’ve still got the stomach for it.”

Kavalas stayed quiet as Aegaryn spoke, the way he always did. He glanced between the man and the brothers. They looked like they could handle themselves. Could've handled that fight, too, if it hadn't turned into a five-on-two backalley thumping. He hadn't stepped in for gratitude. HE'd stepped in because it had been fast, and ugly, and something in it had rung too familiar.

Still, Aegaryn thought it was a good deal, and Kavalas trusted him more than his own gut instincts. "I'm Kavalas," he said finally, his voice still low. "Or Kav, if you like." He reached for the kettle and his own empty cup, filling it and handing it to Akadja.

Akadja took the cup with a nod of thanks, the spiced steam curling past his face as he blew it cool. “Kav then, and Aegaryn,” he echoed, testing the names on his tongue, etching them into his mind. “Noted.” He stretched his legs out towards the fire, the tension in his shoulders easing by slow degrees, but never entirely vanishing.

The brothers shared the cup between them, lingering just until it was gone.

They weren’t exactly friends when they left-- but they’d bled together and drank together, and maybe that was enough for now.

Last updated on the April 25th 2025

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When our ranks begin to form