Francium

Say what you will about Bordeaux, but at the very least, he had learned his lesson from being captured by guards in the last clan he visited. When he decided that he would be staying at a large, admirable temple standing tall over the wreckage of the Hewn City, the Guardian made sure to at least properly introduce himself first, to the gruff Pearlcatcher guard they had standing out front.

Bordeaux informed the Pearlcatcher that he would be staying in their clan to rest his weary wings from the stress of travel for some time, and then trudged on in before she could even give him a response. Nauta wouldn't have said no to him, of course, but the arrogance of their newest visitor still made her mane flare and her whiskers stand on end, that was for sure.

The dragons of The Purified Temple were usually quite the hospitable bunch, happy to house, feed, and entertain all of the travellers that passed through their lair during their adventures! But Bordeaux... well, Bordeaux was a bit of a different case. He made himself a bit TOO welcome. With a Guardian-sized appetite and an absolutely sloth-like lifestyle, he was eating them out of house and home, and yet wouldn't even lift a pinky claw to help with gathering! He happily and greedily took advantage of every bit of kindness they showed to him without so much as a "thank you."

This arrangement was positively unfair. But rather than just kick the Guardian to the curb -- which would have been well within their right -- the clan's joint leaders, Myura and her child Hollyfin, discussed using this as a learning experience for the arrogant Guardian instead. They sent the roughest and toughest fighter of their clan, the physiotherapist and ex-Coliseum fighter Francium, after Bordeaux.

Francium (though she much prefers to be called by her nickname of Frank) sought the Guardian out in the travellers' wing of their temple. She found him in "his" chambers, swaddled in blankets like a spoiled hatchling and surrounded by heaping plates of choice food, all of which he had clearly swiped from their hoard without permission. She visibly cringed, crinkling her scarred snout at the sight. How the hell had her leaders been letting him get away with this for so long?!

Bordeaux lifted his craggy face, to peer disapprovingly at the lesser dragon that had just barged her way into his living quarters. "What?" He snarled boldly.

"You've been livin' it up in our temple for way too long, bub. This ain't a luxury hotel," the Bogsneak returned his attitude right back, "if you're gonna be suckin' on a silver spoon while you're stayin' here then you're gonna have ta' pay your dues."

Bordeaux was shocked and appaled. "I don't need this!!" He uproared suddenly, scattering plates of food and upturning his nest of blankets, "I won't let you mistreat me like the dragon's at my last stay did! I was a MILLIONAIRE in my home clan, laydragons like you should be clamouring to house a businessman such as myself in your temple! I am noble! I am a respectable figure!"

But the Bogsneak was totally unphazed. "I don't wanna hear 'bout what you were," Frank scoffed at Bordeaux then, in a haughty attitude to match his own, "you coulda been king of the Beastclan for all I could care. what I DO care 'bout is what y'are now. And what you are is a freeloading bum.

"Now you can either put in a little honest work and earn 'yer keep while you're here, or you can get your sorry mug out of here! The choice is yers," she snarled, air hissing out of her nostrils as she enunciated her final word with a vicious stomp of her paw. This display told Bordeaux that she was for real, and as much as he hated to admit it, well.... ol' Bordie had getting a little desperate for a place to stay before he came here. Though the Guardian would hesitate to admit it, his superiority complex had gotten him shuttered out of a lot of clans as of late.

The Guardian swallowed his pride, and gave Frank a hesitant little nod, earning a smug, satisfied grin from the Bogsneak. Bordeaux would earn his keep. He was out of options.

...

During a stay wth the clan that panned much longer than Bordeaux had ever anticipated, Frank put great effort into whipping the Guardian right into shape. She slapped him on the clan's Coliseum team in place of Mojack, the sickly mate of their elder leader and father of their next-in-line, who used aiding the team in smaller venues of the Coliseum as a form of physical therapy. Bordeaux hadn't a clue what to expect when he was told to "pay his dues," but this was the most positively humiliating thing he could have thought up! The audacity of these dragons!!

Dragging Bordeaux through the Training Fields, Frank found great entertainment in heckling the Guardian as he struggled to fell enemies much more small and frail than himself -- although, she did also make sure to throw in the occasional word of encouragement to him, so he wouldn't become too discouraged. Every time Bordeaux started to gain some experience, improve his battle skills even a little, Frank would drag him into an even tougher venue to start him right back at square one.

Frank called it tough love. Bordeaux called it torture. But... it was proving to be paying off, he supposed. He felt physically stronger than before, and Frank did take the occasional opportunity to even compliment the Guardian on his progress. Her teachings were starting to stick.

And what was this... strange pride that Bordeaux felt in his chest, at his progress? He had no idea that working could feel so... fulfilling. Yes, tucking into some fancy dish of food or settling down for a decadent afternoon nap was nice, but it all felt so much better when he had earned it fighting in the Coliseum with his team first. He really hadn't been expecting such a turn of perspective! Maybe this is what his mother -- or was it one of his board members? -- had meant when they told Bordeaux of the personal growth he would be experiencing on his travels.

Eventually, Bordeaux decided to leave the clan. He thanked Frank and her clan both for their hospitality as well as their training, and while he tried to keep his tone passive-aggressive, it was easy to tell that he was being truthful. He really had been humbled by the experience. In turn, they thanked Bordeaux for his service in the Coliseum, and assured the Guardian that the treasures they had collected from the Beastclans they had felled during their skirmishes had been more than enough to pay off the debts he owed them for food and housing.

Hell, they even paid Bordeaux a sum of treasure as his share of the Coliseum profits! Earning his first paycheck made the Guardian's heart soar. Hey, actually working for his cash felt pretty good!