Dragon Knights Fan Fiction ❯ The Lonely and Unfulfilling Life of a Spy ❯ The DFC ( Chapter 6 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

<scene setting>
A rambunctious inn cluttered with tables and chairs, there barely appears to be enough room to fit in any people. There's one clear area, which could be used as either a stage or a dance floor, or maybe the table and chairs were broken in a brawl and haven't been replaced yet. The bar is the only spacious thing in the place. It's well stocked and has a long counter that reaches across a significant portion of the wall. Two could staff it comfortably, three uncomfortably. The sublime stench of home-cooking wafts through a tiny door near the bar. The barmaids must have to bend to squeeze through it. Another door leads to the upstairs rooms.
<add sound effects>
The sound of merriment fills the air, along with the clinking of glasses and the sounds of chairs being scraped along the floor. The noise is deafening at first, but soon after entering your eardrums collapse and will never be the same again. However, this does make the noise tolerable, so it's a fair trade-off. The door to the kitchen swings open every so often with a squeak, as a waitress makes it through with another plate of food.
<add cast of characters>
The bar is stuffed to the gills with denizens of all sorts. Barmaids and barmen make their way through the crowd of sweaty mercenaries and drunken locals. Humans mingle with shadowy figures bent at odd angles that surely wouldn't be yokai. Not here? Lankmar is standing in the doorway with an impossible light in her eyes. Here be dragons! There are just a few, young, wide-eyed, irresponsible, door-watching dragons, in cute uniforms. A bulky human with dark hair and a wide-brimmed hat is watching Lankmar from a dark corner. He's noteworthy only as there's no glass, tankard or plate of food in front of him.
<run story>

A harassed waitress scurries up to Lankmar.
"What can I get you?"
"Oh." Lankmar looks confused for a moment, before she remembers why she entered the place. "The innkeeper please."
"What?" The girl looks stunned until Lankmar explains.
"I was told that an inn was a good place to look for a job. I'm new in town so..."
"Right." She looks bored while she scans the crowd. "Wait here." She disappears into the seething mass, leaving Lankmar standing awkwardly near the door. A lot of time passes so Lankmar watches the crowd as she waits. Actually, she just eyeballs the dragons. They are very attractive, but they all seem so young and not as impressive as her dragon. They're kinda weedy too, but after several weeks of a dragon-free existence, they're a minor balm to her troubled consciousness. Lankmar's spent the past month making here way here, to Draqueen. The name still feels magic to her. She's worked as she travelled, earning enough for a night or two in a comfortable inn. She's now skilled at waitressing, labouring and cow-poking, though she still prefers minioning.

"Miss?"
A large, heavy-set man dressed in short sleeves and with an apron covering his stained brown trousers addresses her. His red face tells her that he's the innkeeper.
"Are you the innkeeper sir?"
"Yes. Mmm." He looks her up and down while he thinks. "You looking for a job?"
"Yes sir. I'd love to work here sir. I've tried my hand at a few different inns as I travelled, and I've learned the basics and I work really hard..."
He raises his hand to cut her off mid-flow and finishes chewing on something before he speaks. "I have a full staff here, but one or two of the other bars in town might have something for you. 'The Dog and Duck' is a good place to start. I heard that one of Harry's girls is leaving, so you may find a job there."
"Thank you sir. I'll try 'The Dog and Duck' then. Thank you for your time." Lankmar bows.
"No worries. Just turn right as you leave and follow the road until you hit the blue building. That road leads to the square and it's just off that."
"Thank you again sir."
"Mmph" The innkeeper turns and returns to the bustle of the inn. He is swiftly swallowed by the crowd.
'The Dog and Duck'. I don't think I've tried there yet. She pouts briefly. I hope they have a dragon clientele too. Taking one final look at the revellers and their cute iddle uniforms, she turns to go. A heavy hand on her shoulder stops her.
"Now then Miss, don't go yet."

A whiskey-sodden voice caresses her ears and the pressure on her shoulder pulls her back. She turns again to find herself in the embrace of the bulky human with the wide-brimmed hat. He opens his mouth wide in an unconvincing smile before speaking again.
"Lankmar, I'm sure that you don't want everyone here, including those dragons finding out what you really are eh? Why don't you come with me, somewhere that we can talk? Eh?"
She gulps nervously, looking up at him through wide, fear-filled eyes. "Are you like me then?"
He smiles. "Not here, eh? But you didn't think you'd be the only one in Draqueeen did you?"

Lankmar allows herself to be steered through the crowd, the hand on her shoulder acting as a clamp. The grip is too strong to be broken and it pushes her towards the upstairs rooms. He orders Lankmar to open the door and follows her through. A creaky stairs heads upwards, but the man ignores it, to open a half door at the side, similar to the kitchen door that torments the barstaff. He grunts at Lankmar and she crawls under. The only light illuminating this area comes from the tiny door behind her, so she nearly falls down the stairs that she finds herself on. Only the solid grip of the large human keeps her on her feet. She has no idea how he managed to fit through the door, but he is even now closing it and excluding the light, until they're left in total darkness.

A vague muttering can be heard from the man behind her, and the hand is briefly lifted from her shoulder. She reaches out to feel the walls on either side, but before she can make her way further down, a bright flash fills the space. The hand returns to her shoulder and a lit candle is held over her head as she is once more pushed onwards by the man. The pair travel slowly down the stairs towards the normal-sized door at the bottom, which opens as they approach. A figure emerges from it and starts up the stairs. The door closes softly behind it. Lankmar can't quite make out any features on this figure, due to the angle she's at, all she can see is a funny hat, and a flag that's held aloft. The figure pauses below them and as Lankmar squeezes past, she can make out the letters 'DFC' stitched onto the flag. There is much muttering and grumbling as her human companion tries to join her, the newcomer is asking him to "suck it in, suck it in" and offering tips on a diet. For a while she imagines that the two of them will be wedged there forever, with Lankmar waiting for the death-grip of the man to release itself. Eventually, the massive bulk of the man joins her at the bottom of the stairs and strikes hard on the wood.
A hatch slides across, revealing chicken wire, which obscures everything beyond.
"Password?"
The voice is cold and metallic, quite a lot like the majority of yokai speaking tones. It's the first skill taught to all potential officers in the All-New Nadil-less Nadil's army and Lankmar's knees start to buckle. She's been on the receiving end of those harsh tones too many times. The whiskey-soaked voice behind her responds.
"All hail Lykouleon, Lord of Draqueen."

The hatch slides shut and silence fills the stairway.

What's going on? Yokai don't understand sarcasm. Something bad is going to happen, the door's not opening. I hope they don't kill me when they attack him.

A harsh, metal thud echoes through the stairwell, followed closely by a second. Lankmar flinches, while her companion seems not to have noticed. That must be the mechanism for whatever's going to happen. She looks up. I wonder if it's going to be boiling oil dropped from above, or maybe a falling slab of rock, or carnivorous beetles. Euck. The man notices her shivers and strengthens his grip in case she tries to flee. Unfortunately, his fingers are directly over a pressure point and he's cut off blood to her brain. As well as being in excruciating pain, Lankmar now only has 6 seconds to live.

A chink of light appears in front of them. The light is far stronger than the simple candle held aloft by the human and Lankmar's eyes start to water. The pressure on her shoulder eases slightly and her blood flows normally again. The chink expands, rendering the doorway in solid black, while illuminating all beyond her, when she turns her head. The contrast between the light streaming through the entrance and the dark obscurity of the frame beside it freaks her out. The light forms a barrier almost as tangible as the door that previously barred their way. A small shove nearly knocks her over, but she steps hesitantly forward, flinching as she passes over the threshold, surprised that it was as easy to cross as moving through air.

As her eyes adjust to the brightness, she feels her companion move past her and hears him call out to someone within the room. Slowly her sight returns and she checks out her surroundings. The room is insanely bright. Multiple candles hang from sconses on the walls and ceilings and several stalagmites are growing from the candlewax that's dripped to the floor. They illuminate the many drawings plastering the walls, which consist of sketches of varying quality of dragons. Dragons at play, dragons fighting, and even a few, obviously anatomically incorrect pictures of dragons, ahem, enjoying a leisure activity. A large easel takes up the centre of the room, a desk at the side holds writing materials and large, full bookshelves take up the space by the door. Two comfy sofas and a noticeboard complete the room.

A wizened yokai briefly raises a hand from his position by the desk. His head is buried in several large books from which loose sheets of paper drip onto the floor. He looks just like your average, wizened yokai, except that most yokai wear drab, pale colours, the better to blend into the background. This yokai is wearing bright reds and yellows. A bright red knitted hat covers his head, with two uneven protrusions protecting his ears. A bobble bounces back and forth as he writes in the book. Plastered over everything are the letters DFC. DFC on the hat, DFC on his shirt, DFC on his trousers, DFC on his scarves, all three of them.

Lankmar turns and sees a female yokai closing the door. She appears to be a little younger than Lankmar herself, but she gets her taste in clothes from her room-mate. The only difference between the two is that her clothes are bright green and purple, with a splash of orange. Badges and embroidery also cover every available surface. She notices Lankmar and a huge smile spreads across her face, like the sun breaking from the clouds.

"So it is you. You are here. We thought that you'd make it. It's so good to finally meet you. New members are so rare. Well, it's kind of hard to recruit nowadays." The yokai's eyes start to glaze over as she wanders off topic, nethertheless she grabs Lankmar's hand and pumps it vigorously. Realising that she has to refocus the conversation, Lankmar interrupts.
"So you are?"
"Oh?" Being distracted from her ramble stuns the yokai momentarily, but she soon answers. "I'm Ardle, proud base-member of the Dragon Fan Club." She pokes Lankmar in the chest. "You'll be wanting your welcome pack."

She turns and examines the bookcases before pulling out books, to reveal other books behind them. Also hidden behind books are tightly bound scrolls, cuddly toys, stale, forgotten lunches and several brown packages. The girl pulls out one of them and hands it to Lankmar.
"That belongs to Minmosa, but we haven't seen him in a few months, so we reckon he's been found out by the other side."
"The other side?"
"You know." Ardle leans in close to Lankmar and whispers. "The anti-dragon faction."
"Who are the anti-dragon faction?"
Ardle coughs. "Pretty much every other yokai apart from us," she admits. "We used to number in the dozens, but the club's dwindled recently. Still, with you here, that's what." She looks around the room and counts. "Six?"
"Don't forget that the trial gave us a higher profile." The old yokai has spoken up.
"Oh yeah," says Ardle. "That's both good..."
"And bad," finishes the yokai.
"Good because we might get a few new members..." Ardle indicates Lankmar.
"And bad because we might lose them all in another purge," says the busy yokai.
"It's kinda hard for us," Ardle says. She walks over to the couch and sits down. "Sit with me please." When Lankmar does so, she continues. "Myself and Gith there" Gith waves, "can't really recruit by ourselves."
"Why not?"
"Well, somehow, the higher-ups discovered that we were trying to revive the Dragon Fan Club and they put a death-sentence on us. We came here for safety, but there aren't that many potential converts in the heart of the dragon lands, so we rely on other members to recruit for us. Pickings have been slim."
"Wow, you must have met loads of dragons then."
"No." Ardle is shocked. "We don't really leave here much. We just read the reports sent in by members and those friendly to our cause mostly. Some of it's real juicy stuff. Want any info?" She pulls a book from under the cushions and offers it to Lankmar. "This one's a yaoi about the Dragonlord and Alfeegi. It's got rude bits in it."
"I don't know why you read that trash." Gith has spoken again. "Everyone knows that Alfeegi loves Ruwalk, or Kai-Stern, or both."
"Apparently, he loves Tetheus."
Gith snorts. "Yeah right, and Kharl the Alchemist's interest in that human boy is purely professional."
"I don't care what Kharl the Alchemist gets up to." Ardle arches her back and wrinkles her nose in disgust.
"He was the one that shopped you, wasn't he?"
"He's so effeminate. I just assumed that he leaned that way." Her mood lowers for the first time and she whispers. "I can't believe that I trusted him. I only just..." She trails off and loses herself in sad memories, but her natural bounciness springs back after a short introspection and she turns to Lankmar with an insane grin on her face.
"Anyway, let's discuss you. We were hoping that you could talk to a few dragons for us. Get a feel for the way they talk and stuff. The ultimate achievement for any DFC member would be to talk to a dragon, but I get so embarrassed and tongue-tied and I just end up looking like a fool. Morten too. We're all the same really. Gith's the worst though, he just gets all high pitched and squeaky whenever he thinks a dragon's even nearby. But you, you talked to one. You touched one and nursed him back to health. You've got to be over the shyness that affects the rest of us."

"Morten" appears to be the bulky human Lankmar met first. He's engrossed in one of the hard-bound volumes. From his expression, he's reached a fairly salacious part of the story and is obviously paying no attention to the conversation. Ardle's eyes are shining and she's having difficulty staying fixed to her seat. Her complete and total attention is on Lankmar and Lankmar shifts in her seat and tries not to catch her eyes.

"I didn't really talk to him. He was delirious most of the time, and when he finally got some marbles back, I totally clammed up. I can't talk to dragons either."
"Still, you came here. You must have wanted to see him again?" Ardle's eyes are pleading with Lankmar and she nods curtly.
"You've been closer to a dragon than anyone in this room. The Draqueen base was once a holiday treat for DFC members, everyone wanted to come and visit here even once. It was also a refuge for those that were exposed by Nadil's Army."
"Now the All-New Nadil-less Nadil's Army," interjects Lankmar.
"It doesn't really matter. The only change is that Nadil's gone. The bosses you and me deal with never changed. I suppose it's really Nadil's Headless Army, since we've still got the rest of him. Anyway, the energy back then was amazing. Everyone wanted to see a dragon and due to the size of the groups, one or two were even able to say hello, or ask directions. After the purge, well, we're a shadow of our former glory." Ardle's voice grows more urgent as she continues. "Without us, how are the dragons going to survive when yokai take over? We can't let them be wiped out. This sorry crew is all that stands between them and oblivion."
Lankmar coughs and ventures, "What about the dragons themselves? I'm sure that they'll be working hard to ensure their survival."
Ardle looks sympathetically at her and speaks a little slower. "They're horribly out-numbered and given the state of their young ones, I'm not sure that they've got a sense of self-preservation." She looks to Gith and admits, "Our original plan was a little ambitious. 100 members by the end of our first month and that might be why over half the membership was expelled from the Army. Still, we're building up again."
"And at least number 1 escaped," says Gith.
"Number 1?" queries Lankmar.
"We all have codenames," says Ardle. "It's so exciting. Mine's Drachan, get it?"
"Just in case the Club was busted by the bosses, which it was," adds Gith. "Hey, want to see the report on your trial?"
"No thanks, I remember everything that happened."

"Anyhow", says Ardle. "Now that you're here, we expected you a little earlier, but still. Um." She's gotten distracted again. "Oh yeah, we can work on our plan to get you into the Castle."
"What?"
"You can give us much needed information on their habits and so on. We really need someone on the inside."
"But, surely they have wards and barriers to keep yokai out."
"We're sure that there's a way around them. A yokai called Zoma's living there now and he's okay."
"Why don't you recruit Zoma then?"

Ardle turns a bright pink. The blush extends even to her feet.
"Meet the founder and only member of the Zoma Preservation Society," laughs Gith. "Besides, he never leaves the castle, we can't get in, so we can't ask him."

Ardle focuses her attention on Lankmar again. "You're the only one who can do this. You're the only one with a chance of getting into the castle."
"See if you can get a hold of something personal, cologne or a handkerchief or something."
"I haven't said that I'll do this," says Lankmar, splitting her attention between Ardle and Gith. "I've only just arrived in town, I'm still finding my feet. I need to get a place to stay and a job before even thinking about looking for my dragon."
Ardle leans forward with a wicked glint in her eyes. "Kill all three birds with one stone. Apply to the castle."