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“Evariste.” Clovicus said flatly. “Sit.”
His apprentice cast him an injured look. “I haven’t done anything-“
“I know you. If you move another muscle out of place, I will glue you down myself.”
A familiar stubborn light flared in Evariste’s gaze, but he sat. Good. At least some of Clovicus’ training had stuck.
Far below them, chained to the dais at the center of the Conclave chamber, a tiny human-shaped dragonling hissed in the face of the Conclave Council.
The story had spread like wildfire. A long-lost wild dragon—the last of its kind—discovered in some backwards village in the middle of nowhere. Rumor has it, the creature was so ferocious, the town where it had hidden was nearly decimated by the time the Conclave managed to contain it.
So when word was announced that the Council was going to be deciding the fate of the Continent’s last dragon in an open trial…well.
Clovicus usually found trials distasteful—he preferred his politics with a bit more subtlety, thank you very much—but. Dragons. An ancient race long thought extinct, a magical being that none had seen in centuries…sue him for being a little curious.
Besides, this could be a good experience for his apprentice. Evariste could stand to learn some finesse in his future politicking.
Then, they had dragged in the beast by its chains, and-
There was a collective breath drawn. Or perhaps that was just Clovicus.
She was a child. A draconic child, yes, with teeth sharper than any human’s and unnaturally jewel-bright eyes and likely enough raw blazing power to slaughter everyone in the chamber-
But. A child was a child.
(Saints, she probably wouldn’t come up to Clovicus’ chest.)
“For shame,”Clovicus breathed out before he could control himself. Then he took one look at the young hothead next to him and realized a more immediate problem at hand.
See, Evariste was proud, demanding, and spoiled beyond belief. But at the end of the day, the kid had a good heart.
In this particularly charged moment, Clovicus could only see that spelling imminent disaster. Clearly, an intervention was necessary. Before his fool of an apprentice did something even Clovicus’ silver tongue could talk their way out of.
“Let me handle this,” he said quietly, seeing how frustration and bewildered anger still chased across Evariste’s face. So young, to be exposed to the ugliness of magical bureaucracy. But then again, he had an unfortunate knack for starting most things too early for his own good.
“Master-“
“For once in your life, would you listen to me?”
…Evariste, for once in his life, listened to him.
And that was how Clovicus eventually found himself saddled with not one, but <em> two </em> apprentices who could out-stubborn a bull.
Well. At least his life wasn’t boring.