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When Durbe first met him, they had flown over a sea of green forests set ablaze with fire and a village burnt down to cinders. When he had first met him, Mizael had been small and light-weight and scared. Half-starved. He had clung to Durbe's back with some strange paper slip in his hands as Durbe led Mach over the desert.
"I mean you no harm," Durbe had said.
The boy, in no way remarkable but for the strange hair wing in his blonde hair, looked at him and backed away- Only to clutch him in the next moment in danger of falling off. His voice had been so high-pitched Durbe suspected he had been very young back then. He spoke some strange tongue, in a frantic pitch, but then he turned back, and drew a line over his mouth, in a scared manner. As if...Durbe understood now. Someone else had ought him to be quiet….the whole village in flames...the only survivor. Durbe offered him his hand, and the boy didn't say anything, didn't take it, either.
Durbe didn't mind. He didn't expect him to. He just wanted to signal that he was there.
"Mizael," the boy finally said, and silenced forever. He pointed to himself and clutched Durbe's back tightly as they fly to some unknown place, crying silent tears when he thought Durbe wasn't looking.
Durbe pointed to himself, and he said "Durbe" in the same manner. He smiled gently and deliberately looked forward while the burning forests slipped past them and they slid in the welcoming cool darkness of the night.
***
Durbe thinks about the events of that night when Mach snickers in recognition of the mountains before them. He leans forward with a gentle smile, deliberately allowing the wind to bring his hair in disarray while he pats Mach and tells him he is right.
The Chinese mountains.
Sometimes -everytime when he sees them- Durbe's thoughts recur about the way people live here. It is so odd and strange in comparison to his own home with meadows and castles, merchants who lead their horses along the dirt paths and dancers at night offering wine and services in the backstreets of the capital. Durbe had sworn an oath, but he had served in the City Guard long enough to know his town moderately well.
Here...people live in small villages up steep mountains in different tones of gray and green patches of flora that stretched up higher than the roof of the sky. If one had to travel from one village to the other, one had to climb down these mountains with only ropes to secure and take a boat to the next mountain to climb on.
Durbe is glad not to be afraid of heights, and he is even more thankful for the companion of his precious friend, more than usually.
Mach speeds up and lets them plunge in reply, making a happy sound.
They arrive smoothly on the earthen ground, though. They always did. Village children surround them, and Durbe smiles and lets them climb on them and look at his knight's armour as he hands the peace treaty to the village elder. What follows is a lot of handshaking and bowing and exchanging customs before they settle in with a meal.
Durbe asks about the little boy he'd left in their care about a decade ago, and to that the village elder laughs and speaks of 'hero' and points to the top of the mountain.
Durbe takes a step by, but the children push him forward and laugh.
Holy Father…
He is a knight, though, even if...one who is not afraid, but does value the air in his lungs and the ground beneath his feet. He pinches the bridge of his nose. There is no helping, though...The next morning, he saddles Mach again, and Mach snickers at him again as if to make fun of him, to which Durbe sighs, and Mach snickers again before he spreads his wings and takes off.
The top of the mountain is vastly different than the village.
There is a plateau of stone in its middle, and caves everywhere, with strange, treasure chest sized gems lying everywhere. Durbe is considerate enough not to touch them, though.
And then he falls back.
Out of the empty space under him, an white dragon roars and rises up into the sky, lifting its heavy body with the grace of feathers as its scales shimmer in the unclouded morning light. It is nearly as tall as the castle of his lord, and has an emerald gem embedded on its forehead while it looks at Durbe with plate-sized golden eyes.
Its roar shatters the ground.
What do you want, traveller?
Durbe stumbles back and fixes his stance, forcing his voice to a calm.
"I...was told a boy named Mizael was brought here…"
Mizael, huh?
Out of the cave, there are footsteps toward his direction. Durbe nearly didn't hear them beneath the grumbling dragon, but what he sees...There is a young man with long blonde hair, features delicate but staring with an indignant gaze through light blue eyes...Durbe opens and closes his mouth, and Mizael blinks and looks at him through his long lashes. It is Mizael, undoubtedly, for he still wears the same strange hair wing...but, the simple short backless tunic with the gold bracelets makes him look...different.
Durbe swallows and recalls his vows in his mind and furrows his brows, and he-
Mizael is close to him, or so Durbe thinks from the sudden weight and the hands on his armour and Mizael is...Mizael is closing his eyes and sniffling at his neck. And in voice so coarse it has troubles to wind itself around this one word (and yet still beautiful), Mizael says "Durbe."
"Durbe."
"Mizael...it is a pleasure to meet you again. You seem well." Durbe has all but forgotten, so he scrambles his Chinese together, and he repeats the words again.
"Durbe," Mizael repeats, voice indignant.
Mizael draws back then, and Durbe breathes in relief...he could think again. He assures himself he needs this skill up here. Mizael moves with his legs slightly crouched, after him, and he sniffs the air again as if in disdain. "Durbe."
"How...does it come a human lives with the dragons?" Durbe can't help his curiosity, although he tries to wrap it in polite reservation. Mizael won't have any of it, though, as it seems. He sniffs the air again, and his brows winkle as he stares at Durbe. He points to himself, face deadly serious. "Mizael dragon."
***
Durbe finds out quickly how strange this constellation between the little boy surviving from a burning village and the majestic creatures in the mountains is. Mizael makes fire, and he seems to not care whether he burns himself (although, on closer consideration, he moves so fast it does not make a difference).
Mizael sniffs him again in the evening as he'd hunted and brought them food. He roasts it on the fire and tears down rabbit with his teeth, looking very perplexed when Durbe uses a knife. Durbe tries to converse with him….ask him about his life here, and what had happened in-between his departure and now…(it strains all his Chinese). Mizael grunts, and sometimes he replies in some harsh sound Durbe can't identify, but...Mizael sits there on the ground and wraps his hands around his feet and listens.
It's somewhat...nice. Welcoming.
Durbe is on verge of pointing up and down, trying to describe Nasch's kingdom by the sea, and their ever-waging war against Vector...Mach. "Like...flying horses," he says again in Chinese, and moves to Mach, who is about to curl around Durbe to sleep. Mizael furrows his eyebrows at that, indignantly so, and in the next second he's on Durbe again, sniffing at his neck.
Mizael looks at him, and pats at his armour and seemingly stopping at the hilt of his sword. He takes it out and makes motions with it, although they seem strange, and inhuman. Graceful somewhat...as graceful as murder could be, Durbe reminds himself darkly. "That's dangerous…!"
"Long tooth. Good for defense."
"Mizael…! Get off, it's not an attack…"
But then Durbe looks again closer, and Mizael has his brows in a more indignant, non-threatening manner. His cheeks are a bit pinkish, and when he opens his mouth, a row of white teeth appears and he bows down. Was he...but he only nips at Durbe's neck like….nearly like dragons carrying their babies, Durbe realises. Mizael still stares...and it's…
...it's jealousy, Durbe remarks with a gentle laugh.
He spreads out his cape, and lifts Mach's wing for Mizael to crawl under, too, which he immediately does, and...Mizael curls into himself and is fast asleep the next minute.
"You are really quite something...Mizael. I would not have expected you to live with dragons for God's sake, but now look at you...you grew up into a handsome young man protecting the peace of the village. Sometimes I do wonder…if what we do -even for all its rightfulness- is always an effective way of defeating evil. I'm carrying contracts, and you are carrying your fangs and claws. You do not speak their language, and yet you feel inclined to protect them as your own...as your...hatchlings."
Durbe smiles and lifts his hand to lift a stand of long blond hair out of his face that had fallen there. "You are very charming, even if you do not realise this."
At that Mizael cracks one eye open.
Durbe blinks in surprise, his cheeks a bit red against that satisfied hum somewhere deep from Mizael's throat, his eyes fixing Durbe intently.
"Just because I am a dragon does not mean I am not capable of understanding your language."