Page 105 of Dragon Gods

The resistance was crumbling. The people that had killed his brother would pay in blood.

And Sofia had been caught in the crossfire, as he knew she always would be. She was a rebel, just like the rest. She had Dereyan blood on her hands.

But he couldn’t shake the smile she’d given him after they’d seen the dragon, or the moment of grief they’d shared after the tribe was massacred. She’d care for him—saved his life multiple times.

But did it make him throwing away his entire life for her worth it?

* * *

Fox broke awayfrom the procession after they passed through the gates of Suvi. No one questioned the bag he possessed, the sergeant too busy in a discussion with his junior to remember the Dragonborn captive had had a bag. Fox would get the feather and anything else he needed from it before bringing it to the prison. After two weeks held captive in the rainforest by heathens, he wouldn’t be blamed for forgetting something so mundane.

The unit and their captive took the main road left toward the prison on the edge of the military quarter, but Fox turned right. Technically, the chief commander’s home was only a few blocks west of the prison, but he wanted a moment away from the others as he walked. What would he say when he got there? Today wasn’t the day he wanted to confront the chief commander about the dragons and he wasn’t even sure he wanted to tell him about Sofia. The man definitely didn’t need to know that Fox couldn’t shake the scent of her from his mind or the taste of her from his tongue.

Fox shook those thoughts off quickly, wondering if the chief commander would notice the smell of liquor on his breath if he stopped by a cantina before making it to the compound. His empty purse made the decision for him and gave him a new sense of guilt at using his badge to obtain free food. He thought of the pounds of dried goods and meat the platoon had dragged away from the rebel’s cenote and wondered where it would end up. Likely in the military’s store rooms where they already housed more rations than they needed. It wouldn’t end up in the slums where it belonged.

He berated himself for the thought and stalked faster through the throngs of people on the narrow street. This wasn’t the worst of the slums, mostly thanks to its proximity to the main road, but even here he could see the separation from the military and royal quarters. The road was rough, missing stones creating divots that made the passage of any carts difficult, if not impossible. And when he let his eyes wander too far from the path directly ahead, he noticed the children tucked away in the shadowed alleys, wire-thin and faces streaked with mud.

By the time he’d made it to the front of the chief commander’s manor, and the main military compound sprawled beside it, the sun had long disappeared beneath the horizon, leaving the air chilled. But nothing as cold as the forest after dusk. As much as he missed the sweet smell of the night blooms, the scent of stone, dust, and sweat was a familiar bouquet. His shoulders relaxed at last with the familiarity of home.

He didn’t enter through the compound gates, instead walking directly up and knocking on the chief commander’s door. The unit would have already sent a messenger with the news of his return.

His suspicions were confirmed when Don Hernandez opened the door with a wide smile.

“The chief commander is waiting for you in the study, Junior Sergeant Ocon.” The words were formal, but the man wrapped his hand around Fox’s arm for a moment longer than necessary as Fox stepped over the threshold and into the home. Don had been working for the chief commander since Fox could remember, and the white haired man still looked at him like he was a child.

“Thank you, Don.”

“He suggested you likely would want refreshments. Tea is already waiting for you, and Ms. Garcia will have food delivered shortly.”

Fox’s stomach gave a sharp growl and he saw Don’s eyes glint with joy. He smiled and thanked him again before turning to where he knew the study sat.

The housekeeper hadn’t lied. A tray with tea was laid out in the sitting area next to the study’s fire, a few snacks already waiting for him. The chief commander was at his desk, writing furiously across his paper, but he stopped when Fox stepped into the room.

“Junior Sergeant Ocon,” he said, the relief and warmth one might have excepted in his father present here, at last. “Fox.”

It was all the chief commander said before pulling Fox into an embrace he only saved for these moments in private. Both his wives had died before being able to produce the son he’d always wanted, so he treated Fox as his own.

“I’m glad to see you in one piece,” he said, pushing Fox away to examine him as a mother might. “You look atrocious.”

Fox winced, running his fingers through his blond hair. At least, he attempted to, but his fingers got caught in the knots almost immediately and he was left feeling like an idiot as he tried to pry his hand away.

“It’s been a journey.”

There was a knock on the door before Chief Commander Harlow could respond, and a maid walked in with a tray weighed down by every delicacy Fox had dreamed of over the past weeks. He could smell the spices of the pork and the fresh-baked bread, already sliced and ready to eat. There was also a pile of dark berries, grown and imported over the sea each blink.

“Let’s discuss your journey while you eat. You look half-crazed with hunger.”

“Yes, sir,” Fox said, jumping at the opportunity. Another soldier might have shown restraint in front of the chief commander, but Fox dove in with fervor. He ate three slices of bread and half the pork before he finally took a breath.

Fox’s story of the last two weeks’ events didn’t take him long. Skipping over the majority of the details, he explained his capture and escape, as well as his travels back to Suvi. He didn’t even mention Sofia’s part in the adventures past the initial lure and the chief commander asked no questions about her. He seemed much more interested in the general interrogations he went through along with his treatment during captivity.

When he made it back to his run-in with the scout, he dropped the boy’s name as promised, and he took the opportunity to ask the chief commander for information on the operation.

“I haven’t gone down to see the prisoners personally, but we captured thirteen in total. Five were killed in the raid, but I’m sure the rest will provide plenty of information.” He took a sip from his tea cup, an air of quiet contentment about him. “My hope is that this was the last dying breath of the resistance. There will be holdouts, for sure, among the city and Dragonborn, but I believe we’ve cut off the head, as it were.”

Fox hated the stone that settled in his stomach as he wondered about the numbers. Who was captured and who had been killed? He didn’t want to care.

Chief Commander Harlow drew him from his thoughts with a hand on his knee. A brief touch, but warm from the tea he’d been sipping.

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