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Chapter Text

Prologue

Off the side of a busy town square, children and adults of many backgrounds gathered around a small performance wagon with a stage and large red curtain. Once the last child sat in the front row music began to play and the red curtain pulled to reveal a plain canvas. Dark shadowed shapes of a landscape with hills, trees, and a castle in the distance appeared on it, along with moving shapes of humans and dragons.

A soft but strong voice began their performance with light ambient music, using their shadow puppets to show their audience a visual of their tale.

“In the beginning, dragons and humans lived close together in a tense peace. Each species kept to themselves, limiting contact with each other, besides political encounters between the human leaders and the leader of the dragons, the Alpha Prime.”

The children exclaimed their awe at the shadow puppet of a large regal dragon with huge wings and a glowing crystal on its chest. The Prime’s shadow vanished letting the groups of human and dragon shadows appear and comically snubbed their noses at each other, making the children giggle and few adults chuckle.

“Most dragons thought of humans as a weak and inferior species, ignoring them while some often raided farms and towns for food and fun. The humans’ thought dragons were cold-hearted monsters and feared their untamed power of strength, magic, and shape shifting abilities. Some attacking clan territories for the false prospect of treasure or glory and honor.”

Scenes of shadow villages being raided by dragons then changed to humans attacking dragons while stealing treasures and eggs. All the attackers fled at the arriving shadows of knights in grand armor and the great shadow of the Alpha Prime.

“This led to the formation of the Guardian Knights to protect cities, settlements, and clan territories, acting as peacekeepers and mediators between the two species. With the authority of the Alpha Prime and the assurance of the Knights, both sides thrived for centuries, somewhat begrudged, without a war coming between them.”

Children started to huddle close when the music suddenly turned ominous, sounds of thunder and roaring echoed over their heads. Younger ones ran to cling to their parents legs but still watched the show. A new, larger, shadow of a writhing shape appeared above the puppets of frightened dragon and human with sinister dark violet eyes glaring down at them.

“Then, as quickly as a lightning strike, a force of horrific power fell upon the world. An evil deity let loose hordes of ravenous monsters to attack everything in sight. The dragons, with all their power, had found themselves overwhelmed and suffered many losses, especially when the monsters attacked their territories for their young. The humans, while weak compared to a dragon’s armor, had fought back with impressive ferocity that kept the monsters at bay, but not without a greater loss of lives. Even fighting a common enemy, both human and dragon never fought beside each other.

Until one day, the Alpha Prime at that time and a human knight had found themselves facing the evil entity on their own; there was never an explanation on how they both got there.”

Some brave young souls returned to their seats to watch the new scene of the Alpha Prime standing with a knight’s shadow puppet. All were captivated by the scene as the two figures clashed with the mass.

“The battle had been great, the Prime took advantage of his greater power and flight to attack the entity while the knight distracted it and skillfully dodged it’s attacks to find weak spots. The Prime was surprised by the courage of this human, who gave them warning of a coming strike and they in turn were warned of sneak attacks by the deity’s monsters. The battle’s turning point came when the evil force knocked the human away hard. The Prime reacted without hesitation and caught the knight on their back in mid-air.

It was then they both felt a new power surging through them.”

The Prime’s and knight’s shadow puppets illuminated with energy and magic, mana lines from the Prime’s heartspark formed along both their forms. The knight’s prop sword glowed with the same magic. The puppets then moved to resume their attack on the writhing shadow mass, with the children cheering them on.

“In one final charge, together, they attacked the enemy’s most vulnerable spot, destroying its heartspark, and purged it into the dark void of another dimension.

Victory, at long last, and both sides attacked the fleeing monsters into the depths of the underground and sealed them away. Sadly, upon reaching the final battleground, all found the grieving Alpha Prime curled around the dying body of the knight. Their armor had fallen away revealing themselves to be not but a young man just out of his adolescent years. The enemy’s blow had hit its mark on his fragile frame, but he still smiled at the mighty dragon leader. The Prime placed the broken bloodied sword back into the boy’s hands. The only written recording of their conversation between them was the human softly asking, “Great Prime, are you well? Are our people safe now?” The reply was, “Yes, they are safe, and you have fought valiantly young knight.” The boy only smiled, and they spoke once more (unfortunately the record of this was listed as incoherent) then closed his eyes to sleep.

He never awoke again.

Only rumors remain that the Prime had wept throughout those final breaths, the truth of it is uncertain. Yet, none could not deny the power and aura felt that day as the Prime’s grievous roar echoed far and wide.

Though both sides had lost a tragic many, this one death humbled them all and every being bowed in sorrowful respect. Peace between the two sentient races prospered after the Great War, and trade began with little need to fear for each other. Still, only rumors say that it would not last.”

The curtain falls to close the show as the audience clapped and cheered while the performer put away their puppets and collected donations.

In the far distance from the village square on a high hill, a figure regarded the performance with sad dark blue eyes.

He looked above to the clouds slowly moving overhead as his own heartspark glowed from his chest under his thick mane.

“I had once wished that it would have remained only rumors.”

Chapter Text

Mule Sense

A dawn chorus of songbirds filled the air above the brightening well-traveled road. Chilled fog gathered on the ground making the traveler tighten his cloak about him. The youth was dark haired and lean in muscle, his grayish blue eyes took in the road ahead and glanced at the surrounding sparse patches of spruce and broken pine. He and his steed rode the beaten path toward home with a wooden trailer of metal scraps covered with a tarp. The brown, white patched mule snorted her compliant on the trailers’ weight.

“Tired already, Sue?” Her driver patted her neck and affectionately rubbed it. “You’ve pulled heavier loads at greater distances than this.”

Sue just repeated her complaining snort. Her rider chuckled.

“We’re almost home anyway, and if you go on with no more complaints, I’ll have mom prepare an extra bag of carrot oats for you.”

As if she could understand his bribe, she pulled a little faster. The youth just shook his head fondly as they continued on the road in silence.  He regarded the views as they passed, thinking of what he needed to work on when they were back home. By late morning they had reached halfway home when Sue suddenly stopped with a jerk. Her head perked up and looked around sharply, long ears pivoting every which way. The dark-haired youth, who always relied on his steed’s instincts, immediately became alert, glancing around and rubbing her neck.

“What do you hear, girl?”

A blood curdling screech was his answer.

“RRAAWWRRGH!”

The frightened mule whinnied loud as she reared up and tried to bolt but the heavy cart made it impossible.

“Whoa Girl! Whoa!”

Dismounting from his saddle, the youth held the reigns to reassure the mule and thankfully succeeded. The screeching came again, this time from a distance off the road. The sound itself was like a great kerfuffle of large fighting cats, with bestial roaring, skin tearing, and clashing of rough bladed swords. He looked over his shoulder to the right from the path, toward a rocky hill incline indicating the direction of the source. He knew it lead to a locally known canyon that was beyond it.

Sue jerked her head back to the road, hoping to have her master hop back onto her saddle and ride away from the danger she knew was over that ridge.

Unfortunately, her master was a young and curious human, a very dangerous creature.

Pulling Sue to tie her reigns to a tree, the youth readied his bow and quiver of arrows from his back and walked slowly toward the incline. The mule whined her frightened chide at the teen to leave with her. However, he continued up the incline, making sure his bow didn’t clatter against the rocks and the steps of his leather boots quiet as possible.

The growling sounds became more intense as he got closer. The fight must be near its peak as the screeching war cries mingled with cries of pain.

In his defense, he was raised right by his mother, and she had but drilled it into his brain to not get involved where he could get hurt. She just never stopped him from having a curious mind about the world though, much to her chagrin. He could just imagine her chastising tone to him about what he was doing at this moment.

“Jack Darby, you idiot! What are you thinking?! Your mule is smarter than you! You’ll get killed!”

Another cry compelled his curiosity, and he continued up the slope to the ridge and peeked over.

Nothing in all his life prepared him for the sight in the canyon below.

“Dragons.” His mouth went dry when he gasped.

Three large figures circled each other, their growls echoed on the canyon walls. Two of them were identical with large dark scaly bodies, wings attached to their long front legs twitched in challenge. Both their pale triangular heads swiveled to follow the third figure as their wing claws slashed at their wary opponent. Jack took into detail the dark black and violet scales that colored their bodies and wings; he shivered at the sight of their slanted red eyes. His heart froze more at the sight of a particular-colored scale pattern on the barrel-chested creatures, a pointed crested purple face that glared out with malicious intent.

Oh great, Deceptidraqs. He had to get out of there.

However, before he retreated a fierce growl directed his attention to the third dragon.

This one was much smaller than the others as it snarled furiously at their opponents despite fighting a two to one battle. Wounds with some kind of blue fluid flowed from its back and a large gash on its front leg were ignored as it braced for another assault. The smaller dragon had a slender dark cobalt body with a long neck to a narrow serpent-like head ending with sharp baring fangs. A headdress of sleek cobalt horns and pink crests crowned along the sides of its face and one crest curved up from its forehead. The same pink accents were intwined on cobalt and black legs and dorsal plates along its hips, that flared up in aggression, to the end of a lashing tail. Silver claws, fierce bright blue electrified eyes, and gnashing teeth fought back against the two other dragons; sparks of blue fire aimed at their faces from its mouth. Wings that spread out wide from its shoulders, looked more like a combination of batwings with the flight feathers of a hawk or an eagle.

Jack’s eyes widened when he caught another scale pattern on one wing; this one had been memorized since he was a little boy.

A crested dragon face with a broad muzzle, that stared out in a bold and strong gaze.

“An Autogon!” he gasped out again in shocked awe.

His shock was interrupted when one of the Draq’s barbed tail struck the Autogon’s head, disorientating it enough to be pounced on. The Autogon struggled under their weight, still fighting back as it screeched and bit and clawed their hides. However, the strikes and teeth tearing from the Deceptidraqs forced it to let out a painful cry that wrenched at Jack’s heart.

Then piercing blue met with gray blue.

The Autogon had paused for a moment, a look of shock matching his, but another attack to the neck brought out another pained screech.

Jack’s mind told him to leave, every lesson he learned about dragons told him that he shouldn’t get involved and must let things be. Yet, his heart forced him to his spot and when another yowl of pain sounded again his fighting response kicked in and he looked around quickly.

He knew he stood no chance at fighting Draqs but maybe…

He caught sight to the other side of the canyon and to the boulder rockpile hanging atop the cliff face, right over the fighting dragons.

He hurriedly set up his bow, putting the normal arrow back and drew one of his special arrows out of the quiver. Jack looked over the rune-covered arrowhead for a moment.

Now’s a good time to test Raf’s arrows than ever.

Hooking the notch, he pulled back the string and took aim.

For a moment he aimed at the dragons, the electric eyes looked back up at him in painful shock, crying out to him as if to tell him to run. The attacking Draqs were too caught in their relish of what they thought would be an “easy victory” to notice him.

After inhaling a deep breath, Jack aimed up toward a weak spot in the boulder pile.

He softly exhaled and let loose the string.

She knew she should’ve been more cautious, should have been more aware of her surroundings, but her mind had been clouded.

The loss of a pack mate will do that, and in her mind, it happened too often.

Had her mind not been so clouded she would’ve noticed the Draqs sooner.

She only had time to drop her cargo into the forest below before two Wyvercons were on her. With grace and speed, she led her enemies away from the drop point and into the canyon. However, they were still bigger and faster with one firing a cheap shot at her wings, forcing her to the ground.

Now she writhed in pain as they attacked her neck and body, she was able to inflict some damage, but it didn’t deter them. She could feel through her pack bond with the others and knew they were on their way.

Yet, she had begun to believe that they would not make it in time.

She still looked up in hope for a sign of her pack, then froze.

What is a human doing here?!

Her neck was attacked again and her cries to her pack became louder with more urgency, desperately crying out for the human to run knowing he might not understand her. Thankfully the Wyvercons didn’t notice, too caught up in their torture to her.

Her pack was still too far away and now with a human in danger…

She looked back up again, shocked to see the human aim a bow and arrow in her direction then aimed up over the Wyvercons and fired.

A moment later the cliff above them exploded, making the Draqs stop their assault to look up at the falling boulders overhead.

She saw her chance and used her claws to strike at the Draqs, distracting them enough to dodge the chaos of the incoming avalanche.

Cries and frantic screeches were overpowered by the crashing impacts of rock and debris until they suddenly stopped. The valley gradually became silent with only the plinking sounds of trailing pebbles. She wheezed and coughed at the dust cloud surrounding her and turned back at the spot for any movement. As the cloud faded, all that remained was a great pile of boulders, debris, and perhaps a quarter of the cliff face. The only indications left of the Deceptidraqs were limp tails and twisted claws jetting out of the rubble.

She limped to the rubble to check for any signs of life, sniffed all around, tensing her body for any attack.

Nothing came.

That’s two less Wyvercons to deal with, and all this from one puny human arrow?

Thinking of it…

Her crested head turned to the canyon ridge, but the human was gone.

“Yeah, yeah I know, you were right, I should’ve listened to you,” Jack agreed with his chiding mule after quickly shouldering his bow, untied Sue from the tree and quickly led her away back down the road.

Sue had no qualms about it, after all, she was satisfied with scolding her master further, nipping the hair on the back of his head and making harsh snorts. Her master just kept speed walking in deep thought.

Moments ago, he fired his arrow and watched long enough to see the boulders fall on the Deceptidraqs and witness the Autogon dodging them in time. Satisfied, Jack made a silent and quick retreat, the adrenaline in his blood had him scramble to get as far away as possible. His hands were still shaking while he held the reigns once the reality of his action crept slowly back into his mind.

When he was sure they were far enough away, he stopped and curled to a crouch.

Grey blue eyes stared at nothing on the ground, letting his hands drop the reigns to cover his face.

He shuttered in and out staticky breaths, listening to calls of birds and leaves rustling with the wind in the forest to try to calm his mind, yet…

What did I just do?

He couldn’t get that question out of his thoughts. Not only did he see dragons, he killed two to save one. He has hunted large game before with no problem, hunted for food and materials, and gave respect for the animals he killed. But the creatures earlier, were not just animals, they were dragons, sentient beings who had thought, emotion, and could reason. Beings from ancient myths and stories passed down through human history. Sure, they were still Deceptidraqs, the ruthless raiders of other villages, powerful dragons who would attack humans and livestock for fun or appease their pride.

Being Deceptidraqs should have given him enough reason to have taken their lives to save an Autogon, a dragon of legend who fought with humanity against the Draqs in the Exodus War. Who taught their knowledge and compassion to kingdoms far and wide and helped form the code of the Guardian Knights.

He should feel proud of himself…

So, why does he feel this horrible regret?

He heard about how knights are trained to learn to suppress the hard feeling of taking another life for the preservation of others in their protection or their own.

He was just a bystander that decided to aim his shot.

He wasn’t a knight, he was only a… and he just…

Jack shuddered again.

A soft nose nuzzled the side of his face that brought him out of his distressed thoughts. He look up and smiled gratefully at his loyal hoofed friend, who stayed by his side despite the loose reigns. He patted her nose as she lipped gently around his fingers.

“Thanks Sue.”

Sue nickered reassuringly as Jack got back up after some deep calming breaths. He made to get back on her saddle when the morning sun suddenly flashed a bright beam at the corner of his eye. He looked curiously over to a thick bush, where just under its leafy shade was something that shouldn’t be there.

Leading Sue over, he reached down and pulled out a wrapped bundle of burlap with a leather band tied around it. It looked worn from being handled for a long time and was singed in some places. He felt something hard and long in the bundle and unwrapped it.

He stared in awe at the contents that revealed itself.

It was a dagger in a scabbard sheath, the handle was simple enough, crisscrossed leather grip, and cross guards that looked pristine from the reflecting sunlight off the steel. The pommel had a blue-yellow bicolored sapphire set in stone embedded through it. The scabbard had mother of pearl inlay in some sort of vine pattern, he had never seen such detail before.

Before he could take out the blade, dark shadows appeared over the dagger. Jack looked up to see two flying forms going back the way he came. He rewrapped the dagger, put it in his saddle bag, and then mounted back onto Sue who, without any fuss about the cart, gladly hurried off toward home.

Finally.

She smelled the ridge of the canyon where she saw the human.

Definitely male from the nearby village, doesn’t smell like one of the Guardian Knights. She thought as she limped around the area, her right front leg hurting and her neck was throbbing. If he wasn’t a knight then why would he put himself at risk to help me, a dragon? I had thought… How odd.

A trilling cry echoed in her ears, and she turned to the new arrivals, knowing she had little to worry about. She smiled, relieved upon seeing them.

“About time boys.”

The first dragon that landed was slightly larger than her, his yellow scaled chest bared the same mark of the Autogons. His head was domed with a short broad crest from the forehead, two small horns curved up on the sides, and small spike ridges flowing down the back of a thick black neck. At his throat, thick scars can be seen where the area of the vocal cords could have been. The face was gray, aside from the yellow and black accents on his muzzle, jaw, and sides of the head. His wings were more bat-like, that magically shrank to smaller wings over his shoulders and long back legs for sprinting.

The second dragon landed next with a loud thud and the ground beneath them slightly vibrated. He was double their size with a great wingspan, which also shrank to small, curled wings above his large shoulders. His olive-green body was a more heavyweight form, with a massive club at the end of his tail. His broad head was also domed with small bony thick plate crests along the top and down his short, broad armored neck. Thick scutes covered his chest, shoulders, and back and small thick spikes protruded out along his hips. The face was gray with green accents along his muzzle and into an impressive chin.

Both took in the chaos in the valley then back to their packmate.

“Arcee!” greeted the green Autogon. “Whoa! What party happened there?”

The blue female laid on the ground to lick her leg wound as she replied, “Wyvercons. They ambushed me, had me outnumbered.”

“Arrwoo?” trilled the worried yellow dragon.

“I’m fine, I… I had some outside assistance,” she hesitated and looked to the rubble below. “Some human saw the fight and caused that landslide with some kind of magic infused arrow.”

Two pairs of blue eyes widened at her, looked at the rubble pile then back. The green dragon shook his head to clear the shock and frowned with serious worry.

“Wait, a human saw you?! Oh, Ratchet’s gonna bring the inferno down on you.”

“Before or after I tell him I also lost the artifact.”

“Grrrr--?!”

“No, the Draqs don’t have it. I dropped it into the forest before I was knocked from the sky. I put a tracking stone on it to retrieve it later, but sometime after the avalanche I sensed it had been moved from its hiding spot. At one point, the stone must have fallen off cause I can no longer sense it.”

“So where is it now?” the green dragon helped her when she struggled to get back up.

For a moment Arcee didn’t answer her pack mates, then jerked her head up to a knocking sound on a far tree branch and saw a lone raven. Its red eyes looked at the scene below its perch, then squawked in panic before flying off when a fireball was fired at it.

The yellow dragon looked on as his target flew into the sky with a fierce scowl while the green giant growled with him.

Arcee looked from the retreating bird then to her pack mates. “Good work, Bee. No need for eavesdroppers. As for where the artifact is now, Bulkhead,” she looked to the tree line beyond the canyon and the far-off thin pillars of smoke of a town.

“I think I may have an idea on where it could’ve gone.”

“Jackson Darby, you idiot! What were you thinking, going up close to a dragon fight?!” the dark haired, fair skinned woman prepared their dinner in the oven. She stoked the fire with hard jabs of the iron pick, masking her censure to her son. “You could’ve gotten killed! Your mule has more common sense than you!”

Do I know my mother, regarded Jack as he prepared plates on the wooden table, glad he waited until now to tell her of his trip. “I’m sorry, mom. I don’t know what I was thinking, I just…” he sighed as he faced her scolding gaze. “I couldn’t just do nothing.”

“How about running away and being safe for one?” she said as she used her apron to remove the steaming cook pot from the fire. “If those Deceptidraqs had seen you--”

“They weren’t all Draqs mom…,” he hesitated before answering. “Two Draqs were attacking an Autogon.”

Shocked gray-blue eyes looked at him, then she slowly places the pot on the table before facing her son with a disbelieved frown. “…An-an Autogon? Are you sure?”

“I saw the mark Mom,” he said with a firm voice, then walked to the stone oven and pointed to a battered shield, set atop the mantle, that bore the same red face and patted it as he turned to her. “This very mark on the dragon’s wing. It was unmistakable.”

His mother walked to face the shield up close and breathed deeply. “I thought they became extinct after the Exodus War.” She looked at him in hope. “If you saw one then there is hope. Oh, Jack if they have returned…”

“Don’t know about that. It may have been the last of its kind.”

“It takes one to reassure me,” she then shook her head, released a breath and looked back at her son with a frown. “Still, young man you are on punishment duties,” she then smirked. “But I think you’ve earned some cake for your courage.”

“Yes ma’am, oh um let me double check on the stock first,” Jack got a lighted candlestick lantern and left through the door into the adjacent forge area. He checked that the fire was down, tools locked away, and competed orders safely secured. Pulling back the shop’s entrance flap, he headed to the outside stable after picking up a feed bag. Sue greeted him with a snort as the sounds of lingering town passerby’s, knight patrols, and crickets chirping announce the evening chorus.

“Hey girl,” Jack greeted back then poured the bags contents in her feed trough. “Here’s your triple extra treat.” Sue nickered at him and began feeding.

Jack walked back to the shop and went to the storage shed and looked at his supply of steel, copper, and iron rods and sheets. He paused to cautiously look around, then reached under the copper to bring out the burlap bundle. After placing the lantern on a shelf, he unwrapped it to look at the dagger fully.

The length was long, from his fingertips to his elbow, and despite being within its scabbard, the weapon was very light. He griped the leather handle and drew the blade out; he had to gasp at the pristine sheen from the candlelight. It was a standard broad blade made of a metal that his expert eyes could not distinguish. Jack had never seen such a mixture of some strange electric blue metal woven in with the steel. Engraved on the base of the blade bore symbols of a language he had no knowledge of, he may have to consult with Raf for translation. Turning it over, he carefully felt the blade’s edge.

“Such craftsmanship. Not a mark, dent, or jagged edge. Perfectly smooth. Whoever had you last really took care of you. Such a loss, but now what to do with you?”

“Jack!” cried his mother from the shop entrance. “Come in before dinner gets cold!”

“Coming Mom,” Jack called but then hissed. When he turned to answer her, the blade was resting on his finger, and it sliced a deep cut into the index finger pad. He moved the blade away and scowled at the bleeding finger. “Great.”

He put the dagger down to wipe off his hand and wrap it up, the blade still had blood on it. Unseen by the youth, the red matter was absorbed into the metal. When Jack brought the dagger back up to wipe it he paused at the clean surface. He turned it over in surprise, then huffed in acceptance.

“Well, at least I got the messy part of the deal.”

He put the scabbard back on, wrapped it in the burlap, hid it under the copper pile again, grabbed the lantern with his uninjured hand, and rushed back into the house. He was not surprised his mother started scolding him about his new wound and started expertly bandaging it.

A faint glow illuminated from the hiding place in the dark shed.

Sharp cries of the raven echoed above a moonlighted lush happy valley that gradually became a desolate land of rock and dead trees as it flew closer to the mountain in the distance. This was no ordinary mountain however, in the dark of the night its silhouette formed under a blank moon as it floated high above the mountain range. The glowing core of its powered flight could be seen for miles, floating rocks encircled around it like waiting cannons.

There wasn’t a human, animal, or plant that’s never heard of Nemesis Darkmount, the flying fortress of the Deceptidraqs.

The raven ignored the other Wyvercons as they flew to the base of the mountain, each carrying livestock that cried out in distress, and other materials. Occasionally, few carried a pleading human that was unfortunate enough to be caught too close to their mountain, or a punishing tribute of a village. Taken to be made a slave in one of their many mines.

The Draqs would take their prizes to the honeycombed entrances at the mountain, but the raven had another destination.

It cawed as it flew high toward the top, and flew through the open entrance, past the crisscrossing maze of stalactites and stalagmites and cawed again to announce its presence into a large cavern. A giant violet glowing crystal at the cave floor center illuminated the cavern, which made shadows move in between rock formations and walls.

A sinewy appendage appeared from one of the darkened walls to the black bird. The raven landed on it, then clicked and squawked to the silent shadowed form of its master.

“…”

A red eyed slender shape appeared from behind the crystal and swaggered toward them, its long forehead feathered plumage swayed with its prideful stride.

“Well Soundwave, what does your scout have to report on the artifact and the patrol I sent to fetch it?” its velvety graveled voice questioned, lifting to look at a paw and having his long claw pick at another with fake disinterest.

“…”

“WHAT?!” came the high-pitched outraged command, his feathered body and plumage spread in outrage. The grey paw clutched at his chest. “What do you mean ‘terminated’?! They were part of my elite! It was just one Autogon!”

“…”

“What is this nonsense about a human arrow?! What of the artifact?! Lost?!”

“…”

“Oh, oh good. Whew,” the grey paw wiped across his brow in relief, then the figure made a lowly sneer as he turned back to the crystal. “So, a sniveling human not only aided our enemy but may also have our prize? Well… Our lord did order us to retrieve it, and the boys have been itching to have some kind of fun lately.”

Smug eyes viewed the numerous pairs of red eyes circling the cavern and up the higher ridges of the stalagmite maze. Excited growls and snarls echoed from the walls and up toward the open volcano exit.

“…”

“Bah! That hardly matters, Soundwave. He wouldn’t even have to worry while he’s away and I, Commander Starscream, am in charge,” replied the graveled boastful voice. “We must retrieve the artifact before the Autogons do.”

Then sharp white teeth grinned wide under his beaked snout, and a sinister gleam shone in his red eyes.

“Besides, we need to remind the humans of what true terror is.”

His maniacal cackle echoed as he spread his large, feathered wings and took off toward the exit with a flight of his dragons following behind.

Here is some of the reference concept art of the main characters of this chapter, more will be shown in later chapters:

Arcee

TF:P Sigma Dagger AU Reference Sheet - Arcee

Sue the Mule                                                                     Jack Darby

Chapter Text

Legend:

"Talk"

Thoughts

"~Comlink/Bondlink~"

("Bumblebee Translation")

Crickets and frogs sang to announce the night chorus, their songs echoed across the peaceful lake near the base of an ancient volcano that had collapsed many millennia ago. Lush glades of forests and colorful meadows blanket the hillsides where wildlife had found safe havens along the slopes that were once pathways of lava and ash. The high collapsed mountain top was covered in snow and glaciers with streams of melted snow flowing and merging into a wide hundred-foot-tall waterfall that cascaded into the lake.

It was the most purest picture of nature’s resilient beauty from the aftermath of a bygone eruption.

“HOW COULD YOU HAVE BEEN SO CARELESS?!”

…For the most part.

Behind the waterfall, a flash of light erupted, and steam caused from the resulting fire blast evaporated some of the water. It momentarily revealed an enormous alcove cave and rocky walls that echoed with an angry snarl that came from within.

The enraged roar caused the animals to relocate and reschedule their songs for another time; meaning they got scared.

Through the water curtain, came the full view of the cave with moss covered stone walls, boulders, and a few small, and scattered stalactites. Another flash of heat and light came from the far back wall and, through a flicker of manifested mana, revealed a narrowed tunnel behind it. Small glowing crystals sparsely covered the lining of the tunnel walls as it curved and weaved toward a concealed entrance leading into a wide cavern. Surrounding the cavern were high thick walls with hanging small yellow crystals that illuminated the whole area and open entrances leading to different paths of an underground network. One large entrance, in particular, was covered in carvings of large runes that intermingled with silver metal vines and infused turquoise stones.

The whole cavern was proportioned by three sections: one area had several large green flat clear-cut crystals lined up around one wall that glowed with runes in an organized manner, the main chamber attached to the largest tunnel with the runes, and the last area where another snarl rumbled out to refocus original attention.

On a raised stone berth laid the blue lithe dragon, Arcee, surrounded by rock shelves of various materials, such as vials, scrolls, baskets of different herbs, and other medicinal ingredients. Her injuries treated with seaweed wraps soaked in herbal oils. Huddled close by were her yellow and green companions, looking at her and the forming tense scene before them with nervous concern. Arcee just looked at no true direction with blank indifference, mostly to avoid any direction away from another snarl coming from her healer.

A red-orange and white dragon with cheek crests framed along its stout white muzzle carried an irritated grimace as he viewed one of the large flat blue crystals. The crystal glowed with runes, connected by fine lit strands of fiber to the stone berth, as it displayed an image of Arcee that highlighted areas of her injuries labeled in their language. Tapered membrane at the ends of his curled wings twitched to his inner anger and analysis. Despite his age and being slightly smaller than the green dragon, he still had a strong healthy body with a powerful tail that curved like a surgeon’s knife at the tail end. Once he had his diagnosis, he huffed in relief and grabbed a gel vial and approached his patient.

“Thankfully, your injuries are healing. Putting you in medical stasis this morning after you returned helped with the broken bones, so you’ll have a swift recovery,” the healer softly growled, as he used two toe pads to gently apply the gel on deep scratches on her muzzle cheek. He then proceeded to remove the wraps of a shoulder wound that was healing but not fully. “Thank Primus, you didn’t exacerbate your more severe wounds further, which wouldn’t had mattered had you’ve been more careful! Just what were you thinking out there, youngling?! Not only did you face two Draqs, ‘alone’ might I add, but you let a human see you! And losing the artifact?!”

“Hey, take it easy Ratch,” the armored green dragon tried to placate. “At least the Draqs don’t have it, everything would have gone to pit by now if they had.”

The red-orange chevron brow crests over cold blue eyes frowned deeply while small red scale webbed ears pressed hard to his head as he snapped his gaze at Bulkhead, who flinched apologetically. The healer stiffly turned back to his materials and grabbed soaked moss from a large glass jar.

“I can defend myself Bulkhead, thank you,” Arcee commented tartly then hissed when the healer patted the moss on the shoulder wound. “And I am not a youngling Ratchet. I accept my failures, that I can agree with you, but I still made it back alive.”

“And empty clawed! Don’t you remember how important that dagger is?!”

“I do know Ratchet, but I just wasn’t expecting to get ambushed--”

“That you should have been aware of in the first place! If the Deceptidraqs get that dagger, all our efforts and sacrifices would have been wasted. Our mission is compromised, endangering everyone involved. And besides, who knows how much the human saw or if the Wyvercons or that flying vermin, Lazerbeak, seen him!? His village, his life is in danger now!”

“Crr, Arr, Grr, kik, kik, kik. (“We don’t know for sure of that.”)”

The yellow dragon chirruped. He came around the berth to rub his head against the healer's neck to calm him, purring when the healer became less tense.

“Chirrrr, arr, grr, arrrruw, kik, kik, grr. (“I did a quick sweep around the forest area, there was no Draq around.”)

“We still can’t let the humans become more involved, Bumblebee,” the healer growled softly. “The Great War may have united us against a common enemy eons ago, but the Exodus had brought our war to them with violent destruction. We have to retrieve the artifact, our last hope for renewal, without letting them notice us and avoid having the Draqs discover its location.” He looked at Arcee with a soft but chide look. “Forgive my bluntness, but I knew sending you alone was a poor choice, especially so soon after-”

“Ratchet, don’t go there!” growled Bulkhead, his armor clattered defensively.

“It’s okay Bulk.” Arcee softly spoke, looking forlornly at the smooth rock floor. “We lost the dagger because I was distracted. I… am still not fully recovered from…”

Cliffjumper…

“Do not blame yourself Arcee.”

All four looked up at the deep solemn voice that echoed in the cavern and the sound of approaching heavy footfalls.

“The loss of our packmate still looms within all of us, but he wouldn’t want us to wallow in sadness too long.”

The arriving dragon was the largest among them, his head raised high with a quiet authoritative presence. Crowned in large regal blue head crests that formed around the majority of his head, like a knight’s helmet, with silver webbed ears, and a long white forehead horn. A strong silver muzzle looked to his pack, framed by cheek crests, and back jaw spikes. A great long neck and a red barreled torso, accented by slanted blue armor scales in the front, exhibited strength. On his shoulder armor, the silver scale pattern of the Autogon’s gazed boldly out. His wide blue and red accented wings were folded and covered his back tightly. His lower body gave way to silver and blue with strong back legs and a long thick powerful tail.

Despite the sheer power this dragon gave off, the glow radiating from his crystal blue eyes reflected compassion, shared sorrow, and wisdom.

“Bulkhead is correct though, despite this new development, there is hope to continue our mission. With Arcee’s quick reaction, hiding the artifact away deterred the Wyvercons from obtaining it. The human’s unexpected assistance saved us from losing another packmate. Also, if the same or a different human found the dagger, they would not know of its importance and may delay the Deceptidraqs from finding it.”

Ratchet huffed. “Even so, Optimus, Lazerbeak’s presence must be factored in. If he saw Arcee dropping it or if the human picked it up…”

“Yes, I do have great concern of that outcome,” Optimus sat with his tail curled around his giant paws. “No doubt Starscream has already caught wind of this so we must plan this accordingly. Our new task is to gather intel of this new scenario… Arcee, have you got the scent of the archer?”

“Affirmative Prime.”

“Once your wounds have been healed, you will go to the indicated village from your report and see if you can locate him and determine of his status as well as any sign of danger.”

“…Understood.” Her voice indicated she didn’t like the mission very much but kept quiet.

The giant dragon looked to the eager yellow dragon and determined green dragon with added authority.

“Bumblebee, Bulkhead, in the morning form a patrol of the village for any signs if the knights have presence there. If we are lucky, a knight may have found the artifact instead. We will contact our liaison in the capital to attain it for us if that option becomes available.”

“Arrragh, crr, kik, kik, kik, chrr?” (“Can’t you sense where it is, Prime?”)

Their leader looked at the rock floor with an uncertain frown, the tip of his tail tapped the floor in contemplation.

“…That has become difficult to determine.”

“H-WHAT?!” exclaimed the old healer dragon while swiveling his head toward the larger dragon, his webbed ears fanned out. “But the blade has always been in contact with the Alpha Prime since the Great War!” His eyes widen incredulously. “You mean it no longer does?!”

The large dragon looked away from them in silence for the moment.

“…It has become silent to me since the sunset.”

All four looked at him in shock.

Until Bulkhead tilted his domed head in confusion.

“Uh, what does that mean exactly?”

“The only way for the blade to become detached from the Prime,” Ratchet softly murmured. “Is if it was covered in hydra blood, which is highly unlikely, or…”

Optimus looked back at them with a serious gleam in his eyes.

“The Sigma Dagger has found its wielder.”

A new morning glimmered with the sun rising over the scrubland desert outpost town. An oasis at the crossroads for travelers to the great cities and beyond to receive rest, entertainment, and food. Light pillars of smoke fluttered up to the sky from stone chimneys, bathhouses, and outdoor ovens. Stone rampart towers and defense platforms placed around the perimeter guaranteed protection from any hostile forces with constant guards dutifully surveying all around the territory. The surrounding farms sowed bounty for the farmers despite the rough soil, and livestock called as they were led to market. The main streets and village square echoed with venders calling to sell their wares as locals and travelers rumble along their scheduled routines. Children chased each other and squealed as they played or making their chores into games, while some “people watched” with awed eyes as new visitors passed by. Music filled the air from minstrels and other performers in the central performance gazebo, adding to the pleasant ambiance of their small town to help calm fatigued minds from travel.

Just a normal everyday normal day in Jasper.

Down one street from the square the sounds of stone grinding metal could be heard, coming from the open workshop of the local blacksmith. A firebrick forge sat as central display with embers glowing in its hearth, bellows poised for reignition. An adjacent placed cooling basin filled with chilled water, fueled by magic ice stone runes, and an anvil scuffed from years of shaping and refining metal sat by at the ready. One side of the shop had racks of various brand new or repaired tools and weapons for sale to customers of many occupations. The other side had a solid oaken workbench with a tool rack that held tongs, pliers, and many other smithing equipment and rolled sheets of leather.

The grinding sounds came from behind the workbench, the blacksmith at work on his next commission.

It was not a big man with a gruff beard or large muscles working, but a boy in his late teens with black hair and lean arms stepping on a petal to rotate the stone wheel grinder. He stopped and removed his leather face-shield to inspect the sword he was sharpening.

“The edge still looks rough,” he murmured.

“How about testing it with this?”

He looked up to see his mother holding up a melon.

“Breakfast?”

She nods and moves to the testing area behind the forge as he places the sword down. After removing his gloves, he grabbed the sword handle and followed. The black-haired woman placed the melon on a wooden stake while he got into a stance, holding the sword with both hands.

“Okay, stand back.”

She backed off and watched with pride as her son swung the sword with swift precision and the melon was horizontally cut clean through. Juice dripped out from the rind as the teen wiped the blade and looked at the edges keenly.

“Yeah, needs to be smoothed out more.”

“You sure about that?” asked his mother as she gathered the cut melon pieces, using her white half apron to protect her dark green healer’s dress. “That looked like a good cut.”

“The cut hung for half a second. ‘In battle, every second counts, a jagged blade leads to a jagged beheaded knight’, at least that’s what Sir Richards says.” He walked to a second workbench with his refining tools and grabbed a whetstone brick, adding water to begin smoothing the sword’s edges.

“You know Jack, he’s still trying to persuade you into an apprenticeship,” commented his mother softly that made him look up, she was cutting the melon into smaller pieces next to him. “I don’t like the idea of you joining the Guardian Knights, but seeing you handle those swords gives me second thoughts. You do have great posture and sturdy grip for swordsmanship.”

“Yeah, the thought had crossed my mind. Better pay, guaranteed protection assurances, and great opportunities to work in the capital,” Jack agreed, his focus on his task with the whetstone as he added more water and sharpened the blade. “…But then the village would need a new blacksmith, not anyone here is experienced enough that could take up shop. Also, no one my age are too enthused to the training and work.” He brought the sword edge level to his eye for another inspection. “Anyways, I like being a blacksmith, this job is just as or more important to protecting others. ‘It’s not just the knights, it’s the blacksmith’s tools that help protect the people’!” She laughed at him as he said it with a big silly grin and dramatic flair while posing with the sword in his best heroic impression.

“Haha, Uncle Cullen’s sayings are still glued in you I see.”

“Hey, I grew up on it. Even if I do handle weapons like the knights, I don’t think being one is for me.”

“Well, if their recruitment criteria is like with ‘Vince Connors’,” she said with a touch of venom. “Then it’s probably for the best. Anyway, I’m going to get my herb satchel ready. I’ll just be inside if you need me.”

“Got it, thanks.”

She left him some pieces of sliced melon on the workbench for him and moved through the covering to the connecting door to their house behind the shop. Jack went back to sharping the sword’s edges, once done he re-inspected it.

“There, that should do it.”

🎶🎶 “Ode to the blacksmiiiiiith,

unsung true hero of the kingdom’s peace.

For it’s he who makes the knight’s

mighty swords and shields for theeeemmm,

to sully with their icky hand grease!” 🎶🎶

 

Jack scoffed at the sudden song of melodic plunked strings and playful ‘out of tune’ warbling above him. He looked to the shadow peeking through the faint gaps of the coated shingled slant roof covering the shop with a smirking grimace.

“That was bad, Miko.”

A head of black spikey pigtails with pink highlights and a long ponytail poked from the roof ledge to mock pout at him.

“Hey, that took me a solid thirty seconds to come up with that one!”

“And it’s still bad. Aren’t you supposed to be at the plaza?”

A figure skillfully maneuvered down from the ledge to the ground, revealing a lanky girl close to Jacks age. Just shorter than him with slightly narrow brown eyes, she held a unique confident stature compared to his own. She wore a silk sleeved harlequin shirt of dark lavender and maroon, and short pants with long striped stockings of navy and dark violet, and pink laced leather boots. A large yellow belt wrapped around her waist carried a small teal funny looking colored stuffed animal tied to it; she claimed it was a rabbit. Strapped to her back was a black Lute with painted red and purple firework designs all over its body.

“I was until I saw you slice that melon,” she flipped a pink bang out of her eyes as she walked around the forge. Meanwhile, Jack went to hang the sword on the weapons rack before getting a new length of steel to start his next commission. “You are wasted in this place; you should go to the capital and work your magic there. You’d be famous in no time. I’d bet even the king would hire you.”

Jack placed the steel into the forge and started pumping the bellows. “I don’t think so, Mom’s not a big fan of the capital.”

After poking a hanging mace club to make it swing, Miko looked back at him. “You are at the age of looking after yourself.”

“Honestly, I can’t go anyway. Jasper would need a new blacksmith, and no one here is as experienced or enthusiastic to be one. Besides, I’m not risking getting eaten by Draqs again.” He muttered the last part, but…

“Draqs?” She widened her eyes and exclaimed, “You saw some dra--?!”

Jack immediately covered her mouth and moved her to the back while franticly looking around for any listeners.

“Miko! SHH! You want to cause a panic?!”

“Sorry, but you saw Deceptidraqs?!” she asked in an excited whisper.

“Yes, from my supply run yesterday.” He didn’t want to tell her where, because he knew she would go to investigate. “I got lucky that they didn’t see me.”

“But that’s incredibility wicked that you saw dragons!”

“Not incredible to almost being a wicked snack, Miko.”

“Sure, I mean besides being evil and cause everyone nightmares, I’ve heard Deceptidraqs are powerful looking and fierce. I so want to sketch one someday, from a huge safe distance of course!”

“Miko, please no.”

“Not that I hope they don’t come here at all, definitely not!”

“Miko…” The blacksmith groaned into his hands.

“Still, I’m so jealous! To see a real living breathing--”

“Miko! Plaza!”

“Hm?” she paused then looked the town hall’s clock tower as it rang the current hour. “Oh no! I’m late!”

She took off to jump up onto the shop roof then parkour across other rooftops with great balance and speed toward the town square. The minstrel girl’s call echoed back, “Don’t think this is over Jack, I’ll ask again later! Don’t worry, I’ll keep quiet!”

“Miko, quiet? Not for long.” He said when her silhouette disappeared, shaking his head at her antics before going back to his work.

The village was just down the rocky hill from their position. They hid in the thick scrub bushes along the beaten path to keep out of sight and to wish their packmate luck.

“You be careful out there ‘Cee.”

“Chrrr, arr.”

“Thanks boys, don’t worry I’ll be fine, I got the ‘easy’ gig, remember. Keep me updated on anything, don’t want to get too bored.”

“Hehe, I don’t know, you might make things exciting when you trot into town.”

“Like Jasper’s already a party? Now scoot, we have our orders, later.”

“See ya, Cee.”

“Rrawrr!”

Finally, a figure stepped out from the bushes and trotted down the road, while two shadowed figures slinked silently away.

It wasn’t unusual for the people of Jasper to see an occasional traveler from the great capital, mostly from reputable trading companies with new wares from time to time. Yet, the traveler approaching the town border looked to be of a higher status. It’s said that many high class families rarely ever leave the luxury of their paved and clean streets or the rows of royal faire of their grand galas and familiar company. Those that do leave the safety of their affluent homes were a rare sight. Often they would bring with them their wealth in many forms, a large caravan for example with carriages full of high valued goods and gold. Their attitude on these travels often varied with either as a necessity for business, more than reluctant to visiting relatives, or a misguided wanderlust for their version for a ‘new’ adventure.

The newcomer would fall into what the people of Jasper would believe to be of high class, except this one wasn’t what they would have expected. What had come into town was an even rarer sight, a traveler riding a horse with no carriage or any escort. The solo rider wore a beautiful saturated navy-blue riding dress with elegant pink lace accents and a veiled bonnet. The dark blue veil completely covered her face save for the long dark braided hair tied in the back flowing in the wind as her horse cantered gracefully into the town.

While the rider herself turned many heads at her appearance, it was her steed that got the most attention. It was by far the most stunning mare they’ve ever seen, 16 hands (5ft 4”) at the withers. Its coat was an iridescent black that could be mistaken for dark blue, with chestnut pink accents on the forehead star and upward stripe on its muzzle to forehead. The mane, tail, and fetlocks on its hooves were also dark with highlighted chestnut tips.

The horse trotted down the streets ignoring the awed stares as the rider looked around the communing people. Upon reaching the square, the horse suddenly smelled the air and the rider turned her head to the sound of banging metal. She guided the horse toward the sound until they came to the entrance of the blacksmith workshop. The rider dismounted and held the reigns as the horse investigated the entrance with curious intrigue, seeing the organized chaos of metal, wood, and stone.

But where was the blacksmith himself?

A bell hung on the entrance’s right pillar and the rider grabbed the rope to ring it. At the ringing the banging stopped and, after hearing some shuffling sounds, a black-haired youngling came out from the back and approached her.

The horse perked up with nostrils flared at his approach, the rider just waited until the boy came up with a professional greeting smile.

“Hello and welcome Ma’am, how can I help you today?”

“…Hello,” her low melodious voice answered, trying to calm her initial shock. “I’ve been travelling for a long time and my horse and I need some rest. May I board her here for a while?”

“Of course, ma’am,” the boy then took off his leather gloves. “If you wish to keep her here for the rest of the day it’ll be 25 copper.”

“I may stay longer than that.”

“For overnight it’ll be 50 or a half silver.”

The rider tilted her head a bit then nodded and went to her saddle bag to pull out a small pouch to hand to him. “Very well, this is an advance until I come back. Also, please call me Sadie, not ma’am.”

“Thank you ma-, Miss Sadie,” he said, pocketing the pouch as she handed him the reigns. He looked at the mare with awe in his eyes, then looked back at the veiled woman. “And your horse’s name?”

“…Arcee.”

“I will take good care of Arcee, Miss Sadie.” The teen led the mare to the stable stationed by the workshop. His brown and white patched mule munched nonchalantly on her hay, tied to her own open stall, as she lazily watched them. After placing the mare in the neighboring stall he turned back to the noble-looking rider that had followed him.

“She likes carrot oats, but make sure not to give her too much,” she commented, lightly brushing dust off her riding gown. “Please also give her a good brushing, the roads had been particularly dusty on the way here.”

The boy laughed. “Of course, Sue here basically runs on oats.” He reaches over to his mule to fondly pet her head. “I’ll make sure she won’t be a bad influence.” Sue then snorts in indignation making Jack and the rider laugh while the dark coated horse mimicked with a chuff.

“Heh...” The rider looked a little embarrassed then regained her composure. “I’ll be back soon, good day.” She goes to leave but then stops and looks back. “Forgive me, your name?”

“Oh right, sorry. Jackson Darby, enjoy your day, Miss Sadie.”

Jack watched the mysterious traveler give a thankful nod then elegantly walk back out onto the street, her riding veil fluttering gently behind her, before he looked back at the horse. If he had watched long enough, he would have seen the rider turn a corner to an empty alleyway and gradually vanish into thin air.

“Well let’s get you settled in.”

He moved into the stall to tie the reigns and remove the saddle, then got his brushes out to start brushing the dirt from the coat as he smiled at his mule.

“Sue, mind your manners, we have a delicate lady present.”

The mare suddenly lunged her head at him, ears pinned back, and neighed loud, making Jack jump back. He must have been brushing too hard.

“Whoa! Easy, sorry you’re not a delicate lady.” He returned to the brushing when the mare calmed down, her ears back up. He got a closer look at her eyes, intense ice blue with thin lines of pink around the iris; strange. Just looking at them reminded him of yesterday…

“But you are one of the most beautiful creatures I’ve ever seen,” he says, gently petting her neck.

After the brushing he checked her over for any health problems, left her a bale of hay, a handful of oats, and a hanging bucket of water at muzzle level.

“Here you are, enjoy yourself. I’ll check on you later, Arcee.”

The mare watched him walk back to his shop with sharp eyes for a time, observing as he returned to working his current task. She turned her head to her curious neighbor who snorted at her in greeting.

The mare’s mouth smirked. “Hello to you too.”

The mule was startled at the sudden human speech for a moment then went back to her own task of eating with her earlier nonchalance. Arcee still smirked as the mule ate, then she looked away with a serious frown.

“~Optimus, this is Arcee, I’ve made it into the village and I’m currently at the blacksmith’s stable.~”

Her thoughts reached far and kept silent as she waited for a reply.

“~Good, Arcee, were you able to locate the archer?~”

“~Believe it or not, it’s the blacksmith himself that’s the archer. A boy named Jackson Darby, he has the same scent.~”

“~…Boy?~”

“~He’s more of just coming out of being an adolescent. Sixteen maybe going to seventeen, but from what I’ve seen in the workshop, he’s very good in his craft. I’ve detected another scent around his home, he may live with a parent.~”

“~Did you see any signs of Deceptidraq activity?~

“~Nothing from my way into the village, not even the noxious stench of Lazerbeak.~”

“~That is good to hear. Were you able to tell if the artifact is in the blacksmith’s possession?~”

“~No, not from my current position.~”

“~Hmm, from what Bumblebee was able to see at the location where you dropped the dagger, there is the possible chance of the boy had not found it at all. However, we cannot ignore that he could still be in danger. Once Starscream is informed of the interference and death of his elite, he will do whatever it takes in taking revenge on the one who caused it.~”

“~This is Starscream we’re talking about right? Like he even cared for any of his subordinates or anyone under his claws. Nothing but a cowardly tail-licking murderer.~”

A memory of a broken horn on cracked earth flashed in her mind.

“~…Your opinion is noted, Arcee. I cannot speak for his… sentiments to those in his command, but he will take offence to anyone who destroys what he would consider his pride as Deceptidraq Second in Command. Often with extreme prejudice.~”

… Like a trash talking Autogon.

“~… like a single human arrow killing two of his best dragons.~”

“~Precisely and, as we have sadly seen for ourselves, despite his display of pusillanimity, Starscream is one of the Deceptidraqs most cunning, strategic, and strongest. Most likely he is already planning his next move with this village in his crosshairs. You must determine if the dagger is in the boy’s possession and, if not, guard him until the Deceptidraq threat to the village is passed.~”

“~It’s a possibility, but affirmative, Prime. I’ll keep looking--!~”

“Darby!”

Arcee looked up at the shout, then frowned.

“~Hey, Bulk, I wouldn’t worry about finding signs of the knight’s here, because I’m just getting visual now and they’re hostile.~”

“~You got found out ‘Cee?!~”

“~No, but my ‘rescuer’ looks like he could use some rescuing.~”

Five boys of Jack’s age marched toward the workshop with a ginger haired, taller boy leading the group. He and his posse wore the lightly armored white and light blue tunic uniforms of the Guardian Knight Apprenticeship.

Arcee became wary of them as Jack stopped his work to look at the arrivals, then put the metal rod he was shaping back into the forge. The young blacksmith walked from his anvil to meet with them outside the shop’s entrance with a cautious frown, his voice conditioned to professionalism.

“Good day Squire Conners, if you’ve come to pick up your father’s rapier cane, I’m afraid that I’m still--”

“Never mind that, I’ve come for Sir Richards’ sword, hand it over,” ordered the red head.

“His sword?” Jack glanced toward his safe at the back of the shop, where he kept finished high profile customized weapons and other special commissioned items. He looked back at the squire, seeing him fold his arms with a strong sneer, the posse flanking him, exhibiting intimidation. Yet, Jack doesn’t flinch, this was a normal interaction between him and this group ever since they were children.

Vince Connors was the son to one of the high officials of Jasper, tall, muscular for his age, and popular among the village’s youth. However, it was his attitude that was the reason for the disapproval Jack’s mother and other locals had on him. He was rude to the elders, picked fights with fellow apprentices, and intimidated others that didn’t come from high society, Jack included. It wasn’t a surprise that Vince became an apprentice now Head Squire, due to his father’s connections, and he used that title for every advantage he took. Jack, however, used his exclusive title of maker and keeper of the Guardian Knight’s weapons to face the red head squire with confident footing.

“…Sir Richards never said he would send someone to pick it up. Did he give you some confirmation for me to--”

“Doesn’t matter Darby,” Vince growled. “I out rank you, I gave an order. So hand over the sword.”

Jack looked at him back in the eye sternly. “Sorry Squire, but unless you have written permission and/or Sir Richards says it himself, then I won’t ‘hand it over’ to you.”

He repressed a smirk at the squire’s angry flinch at being called out his rank in the knighthood hierarchy.

A crowd started to form around the workshop, noticing the tension between the five apprentices and the local blacksmith. The adults looked concerned and nervous while the younger children looked in awe at the sight of the armored boys. Yet, they too got worried when the apprentices were being mean to Jack, the nice teenager who always let the children help make horseshoes and show off his archery. Even lazy Sue fidgeted next to Arcee who focused her attention on the black-haired boy.

The crowd gasped as Vince’s light armor gloved hand grabs Jack’s shirt collar.

“I’m head squire of Jasper’s Guardian Knight Apprenticeship, Darby. You are just a lowly blacksmith, a servant to all knights. Again, I give the order and you obey orders like a good servant,” snarled the redhead as his posse kept the crowd back.

The door covering to the house behind the workshop moved slightly.

Jack frowns deeply and, surprising Vince, pries the hand off strongly then moved back, dusting his shirt collar. “I serve to provide good quality and durable items for all occupations. Also, I am following orders, Squire, from the Head Teir Knight himself.”

Vince growled at that, but he didn’t make a move, weary of the crowd behind him, slightly glancing at the murmurs of agreement to the blacksmith’s words. Jack continued speaking with a raised eyebrow, while placing a hand on his hip and stood strong facing the redhead’s raising temper.

“And if I remember correctly, Sir Richards has you on suspension after you were using a good friend of mine as a practice target.”

“You mean that little witch wannabe?”

“His name is Rafael, and he’s an alchemist trainee, who’s highly regarded by even your father.” Jack folded his arms when he saw Vince wince at the mention. “I wonder how disappointed he was when he heard that you got suspended by hurting Raf.”

Vince laughs mockingly and smirks. “That pipsqueak is nothing but a nobody, just like you. I can never understand why Richards keeps asking you to join. You’re still just a worthless stray, just like that crazy old man Cullen. Strays do fester together.” His smirk widened when Jack’s fist tightened and ignored the crowd’s disapproval of the slighting the previous blacksmith.

Yet, Jack kept calm, not taking the bait. “I stand by that only Sir Richards can pick up his sword.”

Vince suddenly grabs Jack’s collar again with both hands, his posse continued blocking the clamoring crowd.

“You need to remember your place, Darby!”

The door covering exploded out.

“Connors! You release my son this instant!”

The crowd quieted at the sight of the angry black-haired woman, known as June Darby, resident healer and mother of the young blacksmith as she charged out the house. She advanced toward the squire grabbing at her son with a fierce glare, like an angry mama bear, brandishing a cast-iron pan high in her hand.

She was halted when two of the posse blocked her path, despite their nervousness at the sight of her fury.

Vince keeps his grip on the collar as he turns his head to June.

“Your place is back at the kitchen, woman! Stay out of this!”

Black hair bristled and professionalism snapped.

“Don’t talk to my mother that way!”

Jack grabbed Vince’s wrists and violently twists them, forcing the redhead to let go. He then shoved the squire toward the stable and grabbed the other boy’s tunic collar to push him hard into the fencing of Sue’s stall. Before Jack could advance further he was pulled back by one of the apprentices as Vince regained his balance and smirked as he stood ready to punch the dark haired teen.

“Nice try, Darby. Just hold still-Arrgh!”

Sue had lowered her head out her stall and bit a large portion of Vince’s unprotected seat, hard, forcing him to jump away.

Right where the positioned Arcee bucked him with so much force he flew, screaming, over Jack and his captor’s heads. He landed into the workshop’s refuse pit with various compost flying up from the impact.

Vince groaned in pain, then disgust as rotted vegetables, fruit, and wet leather trimmings fell from his head and the compost sludge squashed under his hands and knees. He tried to get back up but slipped, falling back into the slimy puddle with a loud splat.

The crowd laughed and children cheered as the two equines neighed proudly.

Vince scrambled out of the puddle, headed into the workshop, and grabbed the steel rod heating in the forge. The rod tip was red with heat, just like his enraged face, as he stomps toward the stable while leaving a trail of dripping sludge.

“Dumb animals!”

At the opportunity, Jack elbowed the distracted apprentice holding him and moved to intercept the incensed ginger teen.

“Vince, calm down and put that away.”

“Shut up!”

Vince swings the rod at Jack’s midsection, but the dark-haired teen dodges. The redhead tries a jab but Jack defects it with iron tongs he grabbed from his apron pouch. He parries around the surprised squire, trips him, then grabs the rod-wielding arm. Twisting and locking it into a tightening hold to Vince’s back that forced the redhead to drop the metal rod. Suddenly, Jack is kicked in leg by an apprentice behind him and elbowed hard in the gut from Vince. Trying to gulp air back in, Jack narrowly manages to block another swing when a directed glare from a brass belt buckle of another apprentice blinds him enough for a punch to land on his face. Disoriented, Jack barely stands as he’s grabbed again and slammed onto the shop’s entrance pillar.

“JACK!” He heard his mother cry out, but the ringing in his ears hardly registered her and the clamoring crowd. He groaned in pain as he strained his eyes to open at Vince’s triumphant grin.

Grey-blue eyes widen at a flash of white, red, yellow, and silver over his assailant’s shoulder.

“This’ll teach you,” Vince hisses as he brought his fist back.

A large, armored glove grabbed it.

Vince suddenly found himself thrown off and his arm twisted to his back again as he was forced to the ground, a knee slams onto his back holding him in place.

“H-hey! The hell you think---!!” He struggled to turn his head to snarl at the interrupter, then his face paled and heart dropped. “Si-Sir!?”

The fierce emerald eyes and deep frown of a tall Guardian Knight looked back at him in distain.

“Stand down, Connors,” the harsh order made the redhead shake; Vince noticed his posse was rounded up by a platoon of knights. The red and yellow white tunics and silver armor, the regalia of full-fledged Guardians Knights, shone in the sun as the knight brought Vince back up from the ground and pushes him to join his captured posse. The man’s frown softened when he turned to help Jack get up onto his feet.

“You alright, son?”

“Yes, sir,” came the pained reply that turned into a groan when his mother nearly tackled him in a hug.

“Jack! Oh, thank goodness.”

“I must apologize for my apprentices, Lady Darby,” said the knight in remorse as he stood at attention with an arm across his torso and fist on his breastplate, bowing to them. “Are you alright yourself?”

“Yes I am Sir Richards, but I worry for the future safety of our village if those… brutes become knights!” The dark-haired woman glared and aimed her cast iron at the nervous boys.

“A lack of emphasizing discipline Lady Darby. Something I shall rectify now.”

The tall man marched toward the group as his men lined the guilty party up with Vince in the center. The redhead himself looked to the ground with a frozen frown, while his posse fidgeted in place. The knight loomed over them, his green keen eyes looked at all five teens, the disapproving murmurs of the crowd behind them added to their nervousness.

Head Teir Knight, Sir Faris Richards, was a man who lead his knights with the upmost disciplined and distinguished regiment any kingdom would gladly have protecting their borders. Richards himself held a great figure of strength and imposing aura, his sharp eyes loomed at each tense face of the boys before him. His signature chevron copper mustache never twitched as he spoke to them.

“Well, you lot have much to answer for,” his deep tight voice drove chills down even Jack’s spine as the head knight slowly paced along the line up. “You shame your protection branch, and you shame me by not only attacking civilians, but our only blacksmith, the very one who makes all our weapons, and you harassed Lady Darby, a resident healer! To add to this dishonor, I overheard you insulted a good man, who happened to have been a friend of mine.” He stopped in front of Vince. “For what purpose would you act upon this idiocy?!”

He glanced at them all, but they kept silent.

“Well?!”

“Sir Richards,” Jack’s voice made the head knight turn to him. “Did you give them permission to pick up your sword?”

“What? I never…” the man turned back; his face showed his incensed realization. “So now things become clear. You sought to gain my sword?” He leans down at Vince’s level, but the boy continues glaring at the ground. “From your fierce advancement on young Jack, you are the main aggressor, is that true?”

The teen remains silent as slime still drips from his chin, a turnip leaf falls from his head.

“Answer me now, Connors, no squire must lie to me!”

“Yes, sir,” one of the boys, a blonde, answered, his voice solemn. “Vince wanted to get the sword to demonstrate his latest attack swing.”

Vince hissed and raged at the blonde, but he was restrained by the knight behind him. Richards calmly straightened his back.

“At least one of you has some sense, but I had hoped my ‘Head Squire’ would answer for himself. Then again it seems you are adamant to no longer have need of such a title for conduct unbecoming, which is long overdue.” Vince’s eyes finally widened at that, shaking slightly, but refused to raise his head. “We will have a long talk with your father later. Men, have this unruly bunch cleaned up and take them to the barracks mess hall, get them started on peeling potatoes, carrots and turnips, enough to last a whole month. Also, have Darrikson schedule cleaning duties to all the outhouses in town.” The man casted a disappointed look at each boy, who now bore disgusted grimaces. “Dismissed. Get them out of my sight.”

The knights guided the teen group away with Vince giving Jack one last heated glare, slightly masked by his sludge stained face, as Sir Richards addressed the crowd.

“Apologies everyone, the Guardians Knights don’t encourage this kind of behavior in our apprentices! Rest assured that they will be punished properly, so please return to your day!”

The crowd slowly disperses, the moment’s excitement gradually fading, leaving the knight and the small family alone, and the drama seemed to vanish in an instant. Venders reattended their own shops to sell their wares, travelers returned for their planned agendas, children remembering their current chores, and locals continued their day to day activities.

A normal response to a not so normal event.

Jack and his mother started cleaning the trail of sludge and picking up any tools and items that fell in the struggle as Richards walked back to them removing his helmet.

“June, I apologize again for my fool of apprentices.”

“I do take comfort that not all of your apprentices are like them, but my concerns still stand.”

“Perhaps your son can calm them,” Richards pats Jack’s shoulder, his voice carried his approval despite the boy’s flinch. “He showed calm and restraint, not fully engaging against Connors. Reckless as Vince is, he is our strongest apprentice, yet Jack was able to use defensive footwork and martial arts over offensive blows. Good skills for recruits.”

Jack looked sheepish, but he then walked toward the stables. “I think Sue and Arcee here should get recognition too.”

June smiled proudly as she petted Sue’s muzzle, who went back to eating while secretly looking proud of herself. “Yes, finally found a better use for your teeth than eating oats. Good old Sue.” She turned and gently petted the dark blue horse’s neck. “And you magnificent mare.”

“Such a beautiful mare,” commented Richards as he got a closer look. Arcee moved her head away and grunted harshly at his reaching hand. “Where did you procure her?”

“She’s boarding here while her rider is staying in the village,” said Jack, surprised when the mare moved from the knight to slightly nuzzle his shoulder.

“Really?” asked Richards. “I haven’t seen anyone new lately.”

“You couldn’t miss her. She looked like she was from the capital with that fancy riding dress and a veiled bonnet she wore.”

“Hmm, no matter at the moment,” the man then stepped back and bowed to June. “By your leave Lady Darby, Jack. I must be off to enforce that groups punishment and report this incident.”

“Sir aren’t you going to acquire your sword?” asked Jack.

“…If it is ready I’ll return later for it when I need your statements for the report. If that is alright?”

“Yes, sir.” Jack was surprised when Richards placed a hand on his shoulder and looked at him in the eyes.

“Good lad… You know my offer still stands Jack, we could use more young men like you.”

The teen looked down in thought for a moment, briefly looking at his mother then back at the tall man.

“I’ll think about it sir.”

Richards smiled at him with one last pat to the boy’s shoulder, then straightened up again to nod to June.

“Good day then.”

The knight walks out to the main road and down toward the far barracks, it was then June rounded on her son and started her own examination. She gently examined his face, now sporting a developing bruise.

“Are you hurt anywhere else, any scrapes, cuts?!”

Jack just softly smiled and sighed, “I’m fine mom. Just a bruise, a sore gut and back.”

“I really don’t like it when you get involved in something where you can get hurt.”

“Can’t stop it from coming, especially from an entitled jerk like Vince. Didn’t you say I should consider taking Sir Richards offer?” He gave small smile at her mock chided pout. “I’ll finish cleaning up here, you need to get to the healing district. Once I’m finished with work here and give my statement, I’m going to go see Raf.”

June looked at him in the eyes for a moment then sighed in defeat. “Alright.” But she smiled and held her son’s head and gently connected their foreheads for a second.

“I’m really proud of you.”

Her son smiled back with a faint blush on his cheeks. “Thanks mom.”

Arcee watched the woman kiss her son’s forehead, walk into the house, cast iron pan under her arm, then walked back out with a full satchel bag. The boy waved his mother goodbye and resumed cleaning the workshop, putting the fallen steaming steel rod into the cooling basin then to the side of the forge. Afterward he took a shield from the back and started polishing it with a thoughtful expression. She wondered if he was contemplating about the fight, the knight’s words… or something else.

“~Arcee, what is your status?~”

Arcee kept her heartspark from stopping in surprise at the healer’s call and calmly replied without growling in annoyance.

“~I’m fine, Ratchet. Just got a good look at the local protection branch of the knights. A group of apprentices came to the shop to get the head knight’s sword, but they wanted it for their own purposes. The blacksmith refused to give it to them, then the lead squire got violent. However, not only is the blacksmith, Jack, a good marksmen, he has decent defensive capabilities. Could have been worse if my new hooved friend and I hadn’t interfered.~”

“~H-WHAT?!~”

“~Relax, I stayed in my alt-form and just gave a good kick. But Jack got outnumbered and the leader was about to land a blow when the head knight, Sir Richards, came by and stopped the fight, his men apprehended the posse.~”

She smirked at the sound of grumbling.

“~Well despite you having a little show, Bulkhead and Bumblebee had been going around the village and along the roads for some sign of the artifact, but no luck. Since you had an encounter with the knights, did you at least see if they had it?~”

“~No, I didn’t. Yet, the area I’m in is frequented a lot so I’ll have good visual if I see it. Let’s not count out the blacksmith as well.~”

“~… Careful not to get attached to him Arcee. The retrieval of the dagger is our top priority and leaving the humans out of our affairs is the best course of action to keep him and his village safe.~”

Arcee pauses as she looks back to Jack while he inspected the shield, its polished surface reflecting his face looking at the forming bruise on his cheek.

Her heartspark constricted when her mind replaced the boy’s face with…

“~Don’t worry.~” Her mind flowed with sadness. “~I know my mission.~”

The healer made no reply as she cut off her link. Jack now addressed an arriving customer at the workshop entrance, the shield and face put away.

Besides, I have bad luck when getting attached to others.

Links to my dragon designs of Bulkhad and Optimus on DeviantArt, I've also updated Arcee post on DA with her holoform on her horse altform.

TFP Sigma Dagger - Reforged Bulkhead

TFP Sigma Dagger - Reforged Optimus Prime

AI Visual References of Miko, the main concept of June, and Sir Richards (Reminder: I can't draw humans to save my life, and the designs of the humans are my original concepts, but I don't claim the images I made of them. Just until I can afford commissions.)

Here's also the Autogon base in the daylight and layout floorplan of the Darby Workshop and household.