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Tranquil Waters: The Lead Crown Ch 8.1, A Dozen Tails Told

When the caravan slowed long enough for biological needs earlier in the day Alarice, (or Nicole, rather) expressed her interest in traveling through the night so they could get to Newport quickly. Unsurprisingly there were no objections. When it came time for their ride to continue after nightfall, however, there was a fair amount of belly aching; Wiesen ignored it all and continued to occupy himself in his own affairs.

It was several hours later, which was a great relief to the white Dragon since even the worst case of road insomnia had apparently been overcome with time. As the only person still awake in his carriage, Wiesen was able to focus on his craft, passing the hours by continuing to perfect the clockwork eye. Joshew had expressed an interest in using it to see but the Dragon wasn't able to convey the difficulty in attuning it to him. Wiesen held his own council on that matter; few people truly understood The Breath, and fewer still deserved to.

Sometimes the Techlar was convinced that he himself was a member of that latter group; life would have been so much easier if he'd never learned how to imbue his life essence into... well... anything. He pushed the thought from his mind, realizing that he was easily 900 years too late to wonder what could have been. Strengthening his resolve, the Dragon pushed aside his work and closed his eyes.... but not to sleep.

There were few beings in existence that had to spend any amount of time reminding themselves that their body and spirit were one. The vast majority of living creatures lived a blessed life of unity between the ephemeral and the physical. In general, spirit and flesh occupied the same place and, until death, were unified. Such wasn't the way with Wiesen, and hadn't been that way for a long time.

To anyone watching him they would have assumed that the Dragon was asleep, but his mind didn't stop... he didn't get rest. Wiesen hadn't known sleep in centuries; it simply wasn't something that was part of him any longer. The Breath was a blessing, they said... apparently, he reasoned, one man's blessing was just as easily another's curse. Despite his apathy for elements of his existence, however, for better or for worse the Techlar realized he would not have become the Dragon he was without it.

Pushing thoughts of the past, the present, and even the future out of his mind, Wiesen simply focused on himself, and all of the numerous shards of who and what he was spread out across the kingdoms. His focus drifted from one to the next, each time 'touching' them with his mind so that they would not mistakenly separate from him. So it went until he encountered one that was greater than a small piece... it was something... more. Reaching out with his mind, he felt the familiarity of it, and realized that it felt back. "Kesst?"

He could tell that the presence recognized him, as surely as if they were of the same body. It pulled back for a moment, then dove to strengthen the connection with a sense of questioning which overpowered its uncertainty. "You-- you're Wiesen? Where is this? Where are we?"

He felt his body smile, though it was inconsequential; reconnecting with a piece of him he'd feared lost was so much more important. Kesst didn't understand what he was experiencing because Wiesen had never had the chance to teach him. There was no easy way to convey that they were conversing somewhere other than in a physical locale. "We are exactly where we were before finding one another."

The uncertainty was practically gone, replaced with a drive to comprehend, and it hurt Wiesen to realize how little Kesst understood. "Where is that?"

Wiesen fed Kesst a faint impression that the Techlar's body felt, letting the young red Dragon catch the sensation of travel by carriage. "I am on my way to Newport from Vallara."

The moment he provided a link from his body to Kesst, Wiesen suddenly received a reflexive response from him in return, and he immediately had a better understanding of his son's location. "You... you are in Newport!"

A sense of excitement filled Wiesen, one he felt empathically from his creation. "I am! I am at the Princess' manor!"

Wiesen was relieved; his long journey was nearing its end and soon they would be together again. Of course, he reminded himself, a lot could happen in a span of hours. "And you are safe?"

Kesst's response was hesitant. "...I think so."

The Techlar felt his body breathe a sigh of relief. "I am glad for it, Kesst. The Princess is a good woman... I know you will keep one another safe."

With the introductory questions out of the way it only made sense that Kesst would return to the obvious ones. "How is it we can do this?"

Wiesen had hoped to be able to explain everything all at once, yet he was a realist and knew that wasn't possible. Without any better way to convey how they were attuned he simply let Kesst glimpse all of the connections that made up Wiesen... everything that held a piece of who and what he was. He let Kesst feel them as if he were wiggling his own toes or flexing his tail. Everything was Wiesen, and Wiesen gave himself to all of it... including Kesst. But Wiesen had a question of his own. "How is it you came to speak with me? I know my dragonfly found you, but--"

Kesst didn't even hesitate a moment in his answer to the question Wiesen hadn't had a chance to fully ask. "Her nightingale... the Princess let me--"

It all made sense! The extra shard of Breath in the nightingale, once joined with everything else-- Wiesen's thoughts ground to a halt; he was no longer attuned to Kesst. Seeking the past few seconds of connection, the Dragon realized that his son had been snapped out of their joined trance, and all was left with was Kesst's final emotion: ....fear?

Wiesen realized that that was reason enough to be concerned but he wasn't about to let his worry control him; no amount of anxiety would make the carriage travel faster. Instead, the Techlar focused on the best way to stack events to his benefit; if Kesst was in trouble he would need help... and that meant Wiesen would benefit from the aid of those traveling with him. Sada would not be difficult, and the fact that Kesst was with the Princess meant that Umberto would likely offer assistance as well.

Aodhan and Aurelie would be significantly more difficult to recruit as they had their own concerns. In any other situation Wiesen would have eagerly offered to aid them but the Dragon had his own limit on time... and his was much more... terminal.

Letting out a deep breath, Wiesen pulled his consciousness back to find his body sluggish and slow to respond. It was very nearly three hundred years old and, unlike his essence, it simply wouldn't last forever... no matter how well built. Glancing around to verify that his fellow passengers were still asleep, the Dragon loosened the buttons on his shirt and reached inside, twisting the knob camouflaged as an abdominal scale. The panel opened without issue, giving him the opportunity to turn the knob that would wind his springs.

Wiesen thought back to his brother... his REAL brother, one of the few other Dragons he knew who had ever mastered The Breath. Fulgaré had always weathered the centuries with a sense of humor, even as the last of the True Dragons died out. He often recited what he referred to as The Divine Jest. "They no longer exist." The last of the True Dragons had died out during the great war, leaving only the wingless or the breathless... and those like Wiesen... the fakes... the automatons imbued with hand-me-down life.

Shaking his head, the Techlar put the gear-shaped key back in place against the inside of its access hatch. Many of his fellows had taken to wearing the key as a ring, but Wiesen had abandoned that when he abandoned the Church; the Mechanists were no longer what they once were, and he wanted no part in it. He had created three sons... each time destroying them when the time came to take their bodies as his own, and he wanted no more of it.

The Divine Jest, his brother had called it. How true that comedy and tragedy were so close a concept. More so was the irony that, as Wiesen drew closer to the ends of his body's functioning that his need to find Kesst was only getting stronger. When the time came, however, he knew what he would need to do... one final time. It was a promise he'd made, and he reminded himself of it, promising himself again. "One final time."