B3 – Chapter 25: Bonding over Butchering

Tristan walked over to Bertram and clapped him on the shoulder, his gauntlet making a satisfying clack sound on the pauldron. “Good work finishing it off.”

Bertram recovered from the blood consumption and nodded before grinning, his blood-covered teeth quite an intimidating sight, along with the soaked beard. “It was mostly dead already. Whatever you did inside it had done most of the job, if its body language was anything to judge by.”

Rory had moved to the back of the creature and began butchering it by cutting into the softer skin near the posterior and peeling it back. “It skins, but I doubt there is much use for weak flesh like this.”

Tristan nodded and watched as she worked with exacting efficiency, her disassembly of the beast far more graceful and skilled than his own attempts. “I’d guess it used its ability to control minds as a form of defense and offense,” he commented.

She grunted in affirmation, “Makes sense. Dragons do tend to use a singular tactic, both offensively and defensively.”

“How do you know so much?” Felicity asked as she flew over to land on top of the corpse.

Rory glanced up at her with a coy grin, “Well, being around Bertram has given me some experience. But the bulk of my dragon slaying and butchering skills come from being well traveled.”

“It’s how we met,” Bertram stated as he joined Rory in navigating some long daggers around the legs. “Get on the other side and start down that end, and I’ll explain how we met.”

Tristan drew his knife and held his breath as he made the first few cuts, before exhaling as he got away from the smellier region and brought the knife along the corpse, peeling away flesh with his other hand as he helped disassemble it.

Bertram spoke with a voice filled with joy; not just joy in his activity of butchering, but in fond memory. “I left Bhant three months after you left. Joined up with the Pathfinders, and headed down to the Sapphire Coast. Rory was there, coming back from a naval protection mission.”

Rory interrupted with a laugh, “It was love at first sight. He said, quote, “I’ve never seen such a beautiful woman who could rip my throat out.””

Felicity made an adorable, “Awwww,” noise.

Bertram continued, “Anyways. We had a few Seasons of work together and fell in love. I headed back home to tell father my intentions to marry Rory and be with her. He…” Bertram’s voice became dourer, “He did not approve.”

“As expected,” Tristan replied as he began the trickier part of degloving the back leg of the quadrupedal dragon. “Father hated other heritages. I should know.”

Rory let out a curse, “Those fuckers in Bhant.”

Bertram sighed but then his voice returned to normal. “Anyways, I left Bhant the next day. Gave up my family crest, even.”

Tristan stopped carving away at the flesh, “Really?”

“He did,” Rory replied. “I’ve never seen it on him. Never seen one before, except the one you wore.” She then became slightly more stern, “Why wear it, anyways?”

Tristan felt the weight of the object against his chest, “I…I’m a Winterbloom. But I’m also an Anorox. I’m not going to give up who I am just because of my father’s bigotry. Plus, I artificed it, so there’s practical use. Not to mention the King’s Favor if I ever need to infiltrate Bhant for whatever reason.”

Bertram let out a barking laugh, “Yeah, sure. Mr. “last of his kind” Elf. What would you even do there?”

Tristan smiled, “Well, I had something put into perspective for me.” He stood up and looked over the corpse as he met Bertram’s gaze. “I saw a visualization of how much essence a single Elf takes up…I think one of my long, long, long term goals is to give every Elf the chance to return home.”

Felicity perked up at that and stood up, “All of them?” she asked. Her voice became more gruff, “Even those sneaky Fallthorn Elves?”

Tristan nodded, “Everyone who is an Elf, or has Elf heritage, and wants to. It is their home. And we have more than enough essence capacity in the Realm to allow for it.” He smiled at the idea before crouching down and continuing to carve up the corpse. “But I don’t want to be some king,” he added.

“Why not?” Rory asked as she stood up and leaned over the corpse, her elbows resting on it as she took some deep breaths from the physical exertion.

“It’s just not something I want to do,” Tristan replied as he met her gaze briefly before continuing his carving. “I have a Fey Court to manage the minutiae of the Realm. I can focus on big picture tasks.”

Bertram poked his head over briefly, “Gonna pump out a kid or two? Get some heirs in the mix?”

Tristan crouched and wiped some sweat off his brow, leaving a gash of blood behind. “Not anytime soon.” He gestured to Felicity, “She and I cannot have children, and I’m not just going to sleep with someone for children alone.”

Felicity shrugged, “I would not mind others to keep the bloodline persisting. But only for that purpose!”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Tristan shook his head, “No. I’m not going to have children. And no one can make me.” He cracked a slight smile, “If I play my cards right, I will be immortal and perfectly safe in my Fey Realm for all time.”

Bertram frowned, “Why even risk coming out here then? Why not just stay cooped up in your Realm, nice and safe?”

Tristan sighed, “I can’t just do that, brother. Maybe if I was raised to rule from birth? Sure. But we were made for a purpose.” He gestured to the corpse that was almost fully skinned. “This. Hunting dragons. The dangerous ones need killing to keep people safe.”

Rory vanished from sight as she dipped down to work on removing a clawed foot, but Bertram planted his knife into the meat and looked at Tristan, “You still believe that?”

“Do you not?” Tristan asked back.

“I did, once,” Bertram replied. “The whole idea that grandfather had, where we are meant to “protect the Realms from dragons,” that whole spiel.” He spat sideways onto the exposed meat. “I kill dragons for three reasons.” He raised his fingers in turn as he spoke, “First, profit. I get money from dragon components. Second, survival. I get stronger from killing these things. Third, because of Rory’s order.”