Crow

The Spiral Keep was cheerful that day. Spring was in full swing: seaberries were in bloom, mana thieves were dashing gleefully after each other, and even dragons seemed to feel the air of freshness.

Today would be Crow's sorting ceremony. His clan would decide his fate - whether he should be maintaining the nests, designing outfits for the clanmates, hunting for meat or... whatever service had a shortage of hands, to be fair. Not that Crow was particularly excited - his family hailed from a long lineage of nobles. They were one of those dragons who dominated the Auction House by trading breed change scrolls, rare festival items and unhtached eggs. Ah yes, nothing like selling unborn children. Not that it was of any importance to his father or mother. If the council decided he had to follow in their footsteps (for which, no doubt, they had already been paid a hefty sum), he too would be taught all trivia of the trade.

Crow would agree to disagree with that decision. His chosen craft was a different one.

The potash peaches were fresh from the oven. The delicate cactus nectar made the sweet smell of the dessert waft through the den. Say what you will about the Lightning meanies, but their technology sure made cooking a lot more easy. With a side of some honeybees, the treat would be absolutely delicious.

Slender footsteps were heard from the entrance. Mother.

The Imperial entered, her loyal jester bunny clinging to her side. As usual, she was wearing her maple paint on her back - apparently, it was the newest arrival from the Nature festival, and she just had to sport it to show off she got the skin.

- Come prepared. You don't want to look like a forager on your special day. - she uttered, looking at him lacking apparel as though he suddenly shed all his feathers. Apparently, even being the youngest of thirteen wouldn't curb her favour. Probably because most of his siblings had different fathers.

- I see nothing wrong with looking like a forager. After all, they bring home delicious crops like these. - Crow nodded to the plate of peaches.

- Oh please, Crow, - mother uttered, looking at the sweets in disgust, - while I admire your hobby, cooking is only fit for peasants. A tradesman should not be bothered with such... preposterous activities, not should they respect those who do them. Nobody even buys pastries these days.

- Sure, but that's what I want to do, mother. - Crow muttered, not willing to get confrontational. For sure, if he caused a scene, his father would be at his heel all day, mumbling and bumbling about how "Crow upset my dear Solarwing". He saw it happen with all his siblings, and it was only a matter of when, not if his turn came. But what if I do never defend myself? I should start one step at a time. - Besides, with all due respect, I'm not a tradesman yet.

- You will be! - mother growled. - It's what we've all been doing. And look at your sisters and brothers. All of them serve their deities as ambassadors of trade! You will make Tidelord respect our lineage. To even think that you'll be someone else - absurd!

- It's what I wanted to do my entire life. Why would you strip me of this opportunity? - Crow begged, sensing agitation rise in him.

- A respectable Imperial will put off his interests for the sake of his bloodline any day! - mother hissed, glancing at the treat as though she was offered to eat a plague rat. - You should be aware of this by now!

- Then why don't you do just that and let me do my thing?! - Crow raised his voice dangerously. Somehow his mother's temper, his father's pleasing tendencies, his council's desires - none of that mattered.

- SHUT UP!!! - mother yelled, shooting a bolt of arcane energy at the plate. Crow barely managed to duck as the table burst into pieces with a deafening crrrrack!. As the smoke cleared up, Crow saw that in place of the peaches was but a bunch of ashes.

- You will do as I say. There will be more discipline. For now, I will let this incident slide. - mother uttered. - Get dressed for the ceremony. - the dragoness turned around, ready to leave.

- I won't come.

- What?! - mother shot her head back, an astounded expression across her face.

- I will not be going. In fact, I won't be seeing you at all. Goodbye, mother. Perhaps my brother will be Tidelord's ambassador of trade.

With that, Crow dove out of the window. He didn't know where he was going. Away. If he had to cross the ocean to be free to cook, he would. But his future was elsewhere.

Not here.

***

The village was nice. Oh well, not quite a village - a bunch of empty houses and a pale Tundra as the host.

- I myself am a farmer. - Octieve mumbled as she treaded in front of the Imperial. Something about her was curious. Crow barely knew her, but she gave off those friendly grandma vibes, despite being about the same age as him. - I know how much food can mean to a dragon, especially crops.

- So, you're a forager? - Crow asked.

- What? - Octieve stood confused for a moment. - Oh, no, no, no! - she laughed after a while. - Foragers gather wild herbs, and I cultivate them. I plan to start the village and see it grow and prosper. I suppose you have nowhere to go, what with parents like this?

- No... - Crow trailed off, unsure of what to say next.

- So, - Octieve stood in front of him. - How about we strike a deal? You'll help me around the village, do what Moonshadow used to handle, and I'll give you roof over your head and an honest opinion on your desserts - farmer to farmer. - Octieve winked. - What do you say?

- Deal. - he shot back before he could even think.

- Good. Welcome to Revna.


Favourite food: Red Frosted Canary
Favourite mineral: Rose Quartz
Hoards: Ragged Skirmisher ScrapFeline TriskullUnfathomable Runic Text

Cookbook!