Flavio

The grand dining hall was an elaborate room, large enough for the entire clan to gather all at once, including even the largest of members. There were hard stone tables and round cushions of various sizes, some of the larger tables even having smaller tables atop them for the smallest members. Fairy lights lined the walls and massive chandeliers hung from above, making up for the lack of natural sunlight. It was nearly noon, so the dining hall was seeing a rise in activity; dishes were being prepared for lunch, and some dragons had joined in early to bypass the rush.

At one of the smallest tables was a blue and grey fae, wearing the skull of a minuscule bird and deep scars from many battles of past. He was sitting stiffly on a small cushion, absently gnawing on the exoskeleton of a large beetle which had evidently been long licked clean of any meat. Though other dragons nearby conversed amongst each other, the fae made no move to join; the only sign of him acknowledging the others’ existence was the occasional swivel of his tiny ears.

The sudden intrusion of a black and purple mirror with dark purple eyes, who had sprinted breathlessly into the room, barely earned the fae’s attention. The mirror lowered her head to be flat against the large table, so she could make eye contact with the little fae atop it.
“Flavio, sir,” she panted, “some travellers from the Tangled Wood have arrived. I was sent to greet them, but, er, they wanted to see you, specifically. Something about your ‘training program’- do you have time?”

The fae, Flavio, finally stopped gnawing on his beetle shell, setting it back on the miniature plate in front of him. He straightened himself and turned to the mirror addressing him. “I do. Thank you, Penumbra… I will find my way to them,” the fae monotonously replied, his frills being no help in revealing his emotion.

Regardless, the mirror seemed pleased by this response; she nodded with a small smile, then left the room at a reasonable pace. Flavio shook himself, nodded to the dragons around him to continue their conversation, then spread his wings and took off. He shot out the door like a bullet, through the twisting halls of the cavernous labyrinth that belonged to the Serpent’s Children. He had memorized the way long ago, and the entrance was only a short trip even for his size.

At the entrance of the caves stood a small group of shivering dragons. Each had deep purple eyes, attributed to their long journey from the Tangled Wood; in total there were two skydancers, a nocturne, and a wildclaw. The wildclaw, evidently the head of the group (as denoted by his leather armor, which was dyed with much more care than that of the others), was tapping one foot impatiently on the ground. When a little fae finally fluttered from the opening of the cavern, the wildclaw squinted at the little dragon increduously.
“Didn’t we ask your mirror friend to go get the head of combat? This has got to be a joke,” he scoffed. One of the skydancers raised a fuzzy eyebrow, exchanging this glance with the other.

“You asked right. I am Flavio, head of combat. You came here for training, guidance, experience,” the fae replied coldly, his head tilting slightly to the side following his last sentence, frills lazily following.

“A fae is the head of physical combat? We didn’t come here for magical nonsense,” the wildclaw clarified, narrowing his eyes.

“Yes. Do not doubt me, we do not take kindly to prejudice here. I would bet all the riches in my den that I could defeat any, or all, of you in combat, alone,” Flavio replied, raising a hand. His talons glowed a deep red, as if threatening to release their magical power.

The wildclaw snorted with laughter. “Yeah, right. I’d bet this pouch I could crush you like a bug,” he retorted amusesly, brandishing a small leather pouch from his armor’s belt.

Flavio straightened his head and lowered his hand. “I accept. You go first, oh powerful combatant,” his sarcasm evident even through the thick layer of his tone’s evenness.

The wildclaw grinned, returning the pouch to its hook. He quickly took advantage of the fae’s taunt, snapping forwards with his sharp teeth as if the fae were nothing more than a bird in flight. To his surprise, his teeth never met scale; instead, he noticed a grey blur in his peripheral vision. Before the wildclaw could spin around to face the fae once again, Flavio raised his hands once again. This time, his clawtips glowed a bright, foreboding red, and suddenly the wildclaw felt a searing pain in his shoulder. He yelped out in pain and covered it with the opposite hand, wincing as he felt warm fluid leak from the fresh wound.
“H—how did you— you didn’t even touch me!” the wildclaw yelled, dismayed. The two skydancers shared another look, now more afraid than doubtful; meanwhile, the nocturne took a few steps back, grimacing.

“This is why I am the head of combative training. I can teach you a new realm of combat, perfecting the balance between intellectual magic and brute strength. I even train soldiers worthy of the Deities themselves… for a price. Hand me that pouch we bet on, and we can discuss further payment for my troubles… unless you would like to continue.”

The wildclaw looked to his comrades and wordlessly, they agreed. He looked back to the fae. “Yes… sir.”