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Book 3: Chapter 23: First of Many Accomplishments

Due to his lack of combat cards, Arthur wasn’t the traditional choice. However, his potential was exponential. And now, so was Brixaby’s.

Despite this – and the minor detail that Brixaby had grown to respect Arthur as a person – there were times Brixaby knew his linked rider was completely mistaken.

The first instance was when Arthur had come perilously close to aiding a scourgling. Brixaby had managed to rectify that problem quite effectively by consuming its cards. The second time, Arthur had managed to upset the King, nearly leading to his execution. Arthur had resolved that issue himself... with a little help from the King’s Mythic dragon.

But this third Great Mistake... well, it seemed it would once again fall to Brixaby to correct him. The point of contention was Arthur's stubborn insistence that the most efficient way to progress and grow was through the various classes offered by their cards.

This was absurd. Granted, the classes held bonuses, but to acquire new classes, Arthur was obliged to dabble in numerous skill sets. Consider his latest fascination with farming; the skills were nonsensical: herb identification? Soil amendment? Pruning? What a waste of time.

No, despite his respect for Arthur, in this case, he was entirely mistaken.

Brixaby believed that the best strategy was to concentrate on one skill, one discipline, and master it completely. This was how he had elevated his Chainmail Weaving skill to level 49.

Of course, Brixaby had inadvertently picked up other skills along the way, largely due to his proximity to the craft master he’d worked beside.

He had gained Metal Forging and Metal Artistry, and even acquired a few physical abilities from his Master of Body Enhancement Card, like Heat Resistance from being around hot forges for extended periods. Not to mention the useful skill of Focus; necessary in proper chainmail projects.

Most importantly, Brixaby found joy in his work, even if the Mesa Free Hive didn't appreciate it.

Because they refused to fight.

Brixaby found himself growling in annoyance as he flew, just thinking about it. He had been taken aback when he discovered that all chainmail creations were sold off. Not used. And he didn’t know where they were sold to, yet.

The chainmail craftmaster, Dimitri, had one contact who bought almost exclusively from him, leaving only a few other pieces out for display in the main booth. This mysterious contact ordered chainmail shirts tailored for human men and women, and none for dragons, even though everyone knew dragons did most of the fighting. Some chainmail constructions were... peculiarly proportioned, in ways Brixaby couldn't quite comprehend. No one had limbs that long without a very odd body distortion card.

Whenever Brixaby asked about it, Dimitri simply brushed him off, saying it was none of his concern.

However, Brixaby mentally sneered, that wouldn’t stop him. Over the past few weeks, he had been observing the inflow and outflow of raw materials and finished products, not only from the man he worked with but also from the surrounding craftfolk.

The craftspeople and dragons received a large quantity of raw products from mysterious sources and put them to use, creating items that their Free Hive would never use: weapons of war, and instruments of battle. And yet, despite the lack of visible customers, they managed to stay in business.

More crucially, they continued to purchase more food, goods, and raw materials.

Using Arithmetic skills, Brixaby and Arthur had worked it out: Just based on Brixaby's observations, the disparity between the goods produced and what was visibly sold was startling. And the chainmail wasn’t an isolated incident; it was pervasive throughout the Free Hive.

In fact, weapons and defense craft sales seemed to be the hive’s main source of income for food and supplies.

Sure, the Free Hive grew its own fruit and vegetables, which was sufficient for humans. Although Brixaby enjoyed bread, fruits, and grains, his body craved meat the most. This barren Mesa couldn't support large herds of livestock, even with Len and Tamya converting saltwater into freshwater.

And yet, sheep, goats, and the occasional lame horse were always available for a hungry dragon to consume.

This hive was clearly a production center for crafted goods, and the sales allowed them to survive out in the desert. The question was... who were they selling to?

Nobody was willing to provide answers. So, Brixaby had to patiently wait until he could discover the truth himself.

Finally, weeks in, that day had come. He had spent his time refining his chainmail skill. More importantly, he had matured.

He didn't know, nor did he particularly care, how humans knew when their heart deck was ready for its first card. But Brixaby had felt the formation of his secondary core. It wasn't as vibrant as his primary core—which, naturally, was his inner self.

This new core was slightly peripheral, a bit detached. He suspected it was somewhat similar to a human's artificial card anchor space, where they could add or remove cards at will. Brixaby wasn't certain how this would function for him, given that his magic was based on consuming cards, but it was worth exploring. And he had the perfect card for it.

Brixaby privately congratulated himself for his cunning. He had told Arthur he intended to spend the day constructing chainmail as usual. Little did Arthur know that Dimitri had told Brixaby not to come in that day. This was the usual thing whenever the craftmaster was about to sell his stock and didn’t want Brixaby to be around.

While Brixaby did feel a twinge for deceiving Arthur… that minuscule, barely perceptible, and certainly insignificant guilt was pushed to the side. It was for a good cause. Besides, surely Arthur would be happy when Brixaby proved himself right once again.

So, as soon as he had the day to himself, Brixaby flew to the lee side of the Mesa, where the wind blowing off the arid desert was less harsh. There were numerous hidey holes and cutouts on the side of the steep cliff. These were the beginnings of caves, though the soil was too ravaged by the relentless sun and weather to form a sturdy permanent structure. It still provided him with some privacy.

Perched on the ledge of one of the shallow caves, Brixaby withdrew the Stealth class card from his Personal Space. He examined it for a moment with pride. After all, he had yanked this card from an assassin's heart fair and square.

Now, it would serve as his first test of maturity.

Brixaby would never confess to feeling nervous. He was a Legendary-level dragon. What reason did he have to be nervous over a single Rare card? Absurd! Yet... he did triple-check his newly formed secondary card core, just in case.

"What are you doing?" asked a bright bubbly voice, practically right beside him.

"Ah!"

Brixaby nearly toppled out of his shallow cave in surprise, hastily flapping his wings to regain balance as he clambered back up. He then whirled around and glowered at Joy, who was flying in tight circles just outside the cave. "What are you doing here? Why are you following me?"

"I got bored," Joy replied. "Cressida’s at work. She hates it, and I feel bad for her, and I kind of want to kill something…" She flexed her green forelimb, now safely encased in a chainmail sleeve. Joy sighed, her head drooping. "But there's nothing around to kill."

Brixaby was particularly proud of her chainmail sleeve. It had undergone several iterations over the past weeks until Brixaby had finally created a weave so fine that the chain mail slid smoothly over Joy’s green-tinged scales. He had replaced the clumsy mitten structure with something that fitted around her five talons like a glove, though he would need to continually modify and replace it as she grew.

Pink straps, chosen by Joy, wrapped around her torso to secure the sleeve and keep it from slipping down. The tips of her sharp claws were reinforced with a double weave—large then small—to ensure the sharp points did not poke out.

Joy's other limbs weren't venomous. However, over the past few weeks, her canine teeth had begun to elongate just past her lips, their tips taking on a subtle green hue. Brixaby suspected whatever she bit would have a bad day.

"Plus," Joy added before Brixaby could respond, "I got a new quest."

"Did you? To stop me?" He puffed himself up, indignant. "Well, your quest is about to fail!"

"No, not to stop you, silly. To help

you. To be there for you. Because you're my friend."

"That's a foolish quest," Brixaby snapped, then hesitated. "What was the reward?"

"A Rare card."

“Rare?!” He growled. "That's outrageous! Why do your quests always turn out so well?" While it was satisfying that a potentially powerful meta-type dragon was devoted to him, it was equally frustrating that Joy kept receiving these high-reward quests without much effort.

It was doubly frustrating that, while Brixaby could copy her quest card, they came to him randomly. And his rewards were never so good.

Joy shrugged. "I think maybe it's because I thank the quest card? How often do you thank your cards for doing a good job?"

"I don’t—” He sputtered. “Why would I? My cards are a part of me. I don't thank my tail for swishing around in the air."

"Well, maybe you should."

Brixaby felt his intelligence attribute points dwindling with each passing moment. He was about to voice his complaint when Joy decided to stop circling and landed right next to him. The shallow cave—more of a depression in the rock—was a tight fit. Brixaby scrambled, but there was just enough room for both of them. Thankfully, he wasn’t pressed up against her green arm.

"So," Joy said cheerfully, "what are you doing that you need my support for?"

Brixaby thought about not telling her, given that he had made an effort to keep this from Arthur. But she was his retinue dragon, and if things went awry, he could simply make her swear to secrecy.

"I believe my secondary core is mature enough to accept a card," he said, then paused. Joy was several days older than him. "What about your core?" Not that he was nervous. He was just checking. It was prudent.

She sighed. "My primary core is still a little wacky so I don’t want to try the secondary until later. Cressida worries about it all the time. But... I think it's fine? I'm even more dangerous now." She flexed her venom-tipped claws. “Yeah. It feels good.”

Joy was still Joy, just with an added edge.

"Humans," Brixaby snorted. "They're not dragons, but they always think they know more about us than we do."

Joy tilted her head. "I think it's because they're much older, so they know a lot more things. Cressida is nineteen years old."

"Really?" Brixaby was surprised. He was barely half a year old. Even one year seemed like an eternity.

"How old is Arthur?" Joy asked.

"He can't be more than seven," Brixaby guessed.

"That sounds about right," Joy agreed. "Tell me about your card."

With a touch of pride, Brixaby showed her his Stealth card. "I took it from the heart of the man who poisoned you."

"Oh, so we'll both have cards from him," she responded, a sweet smile gracing her features, the tips of her slightly green fangs peeking out. "I like that."

Again, Brixaby hesitated. Not from fear, of course, but from caution. "Did your quest mention that something was going to go wrong?"

"No, it just said to offer my support. As a friend." She extended a wing over him.

"I don't need your support, but... I suppose it would be fine to have someone witness my triumph."

And with that, Brixaby knew he could no longer delay. Holding his breath, he focused intently on his secondary core and inserted the card. There was a bit of resistance. It wasn't painful, but it felt like perhaps his core could only fit one card in it for now. The capacity would surely grow as he did.

Within moments, it had disappeared, and he was immediately greeted with similar notifications that Arthur had described.

He had indeed gained the Stealth Class with the same suite of skills as Arthur. However, his average was a little less as he didn’t have the original Stealth Skill until today. No matter, Brixaby planned to one day master that just as he had with his Chainmail Weaving skill.

Best of all, his Master of Skills card immediately took over the skills from the Rare leveled card.

Yes, Brixaby had chosen quite well on the day of his hatching. Arthur wasn’t the only one with the capability for rapid growth.

"It worked," he announced. "It actually worked!—I mean, of course I’m not surprised. Hmm. And it seems I have additional attributes now."

He’d gained 7 to Perception, 2 to Luck, and 1 to Intelligence. Slightly different from Arthur’s gains, though he wasn’t about to complain. He long suspected attributes were aided by personality.

"Oh?" Joy asked.

Brixaby started to reply, but then stopped. He shifted uncomfortably, feeling… heavy. He assumed he would get used to having the card stretch out his secondary core after a while, but there was no need. His Master of Skills had already copied the class. The card would only drag him down, now.

He took the card out of his secondary core again and spent a few moments gazing at it. He was hungry.

He had fully intended to consume the card after copying it. Not for any extra powers because he had already gotten what he could from it, but because consuming cards made him grow.

Then he let out a long, drawn-out sigh. He dearly wanted to eat the card, but Joy was part of his retinue which made her his responsibility.

"Here. Take it," he said, gruffly, offering the card to her.

"Really?" Joy gasped, accepting the card. “This must be my quest reward!” Then she hesitated. "Actually… I think this should go to Cressida."

"Why’s that? You're the one with the venom." He liked the idea of a dragon in his retinue being able to sneak up on enemies before poisoning them.

"Yes, but she's been feeling so down recently, I think a card would cheer her up."

"She has?" Brixaby asked, taken aback. "What's wrong? Is she ill?"

Joy gave him a mildly annoyed look. Which, for her, meant a lot. "I told you. She hates her job."

Brixaby searched his memory. Arthur must have mentioned what Cressida did for a living, but she wasn't his rider, so it wasn't important enough to remember.

"She works in the boiler room," Joy said, likely reading his expression. "She uses her fire bear summon to heat water into steam. It's really important because it helps power a lot of things, but she's not happy. She was bred to be a noblewoman, and she says that’s harder to do than any boring boiler job."

And now Brixaby eyed the card in Joy's claws for a moment, wondering if he should snatch it back and just consume it after all. He didn’t particularly care about Joy’s rider’s problems.

But... If Cressida was happy, that would make Arthur unhappy.

"Then I’ll store the card for you until you are ready to gift it to her."

Taking the card back, he reluctantly re-added it to his Personal Space.

"Thanks, Brixaby." Joy bumped the front of her muzzle against the side of his for some strange reason. "Do you want to hunt jackrabbits with me?”

"No, I must work." He straightened up in pride. "This is only the first of my planned accomplishments today."

Joy wrinkled her muzzle. "Oh. More chainmail." Then she brightened. "Do you want me to bring you a jackrabbit?"

"Yes, that would be acceptable. But don't poison it, first."

Joy giggled. “I can’t do that, silly. It would rot before I got it to you.”

After bumping him with her tail, she took off.

Brixaby watched her fly. She was rather graceful in the air, despite only having two wings. Some of the two-wingers lumbered through the air currents, but Joy’s wings were on the long side for her body size. She always seemed to float.

Also, the look of Brixaby’s chainmail creation on her arm was most pleasing.

Realizing he was staring, Brixaby shook his head and took off from the ledge to buzz straight down towards the long shadow of the mesa – a gathering place for humans and dragons to trade, and just where he knew the chainmail master would be.

As he flew, he activated his brand-new stealth abilities.

He did plan on working on his chainmail weaving skill and getting it up to level 50 today. But first, it was time to find out who craft master Dimitri’s contacts were, and more importantly, why he did not want him or Arthur to know.