Ryn

Chapter Two

A bound dragonling has no say over their life. Everything belongs to their master, including their offspring. This is so they will learn resolve and may become free on their own merit.

This is our Law.

~ From the Dragonling Grimoire

Freedom? I was sorely mistaken.

Six weeks had passed since my Trial of Blood, and all I was ready to do was stab someone. Lord Edik had kept his promise to send me to the front lines after I got my weapon - I was assigned a broadsword, which I adored - but no one had warned me how boring it would be.

Granted, it sounded impressive, guarding my colony's territory against potentially dangerous enemies, but the daily boredom of scanning a horizon was so not worth getting up in the morning.

All of us stationed at the post simply patrolled the sizable border between Lord Edik's city - E'zastava - and the Watercress colony. To my dismay, the entire time I was there, absolutely no fighting happened. In fact, the only Watercress dragonlings we had seen were an unfortunate pair of lovers caught in their mating season. That was something I would never forget. Frankly, I wished I could have burned out my eyes.

Those were probably the only dragonlings that had so far made an impression on me besides the ones I was forced to live and work with. All the others were like fading bursts of light - colors that dim when they leave my sight and vanish altogether afterward. That had always been my problem. I didn't remember boring dragonlings.

Which was the majority of the dragonlings in my new life.

Before their Trial, all dragonlings train at the Skhola, the academy, of their colony. From ten to eighteen, we're taught everything we'd need to know about how to fulfill our duties. Unfortunately, my teachers neglected to tell me that working as a Ryn had extra rules that Lords and Ladies could simply make up at any time.

As I settled into the outpost, I began to learn these rules by trial and error. Be on time, don't hunt too far east, always clean your weapon. It wasn't too hard to remember, but the indentured servants, as Lord Edik called us, had extra expectations to meet.

I was given a small leather pouch to fill with five thousand iyres - large, golden crescents we use as currency - or fifty thousand lodes, the smaller, silver counterpart to iyres.

Five thousand iyres was the cost of my contract and once I had it all, I was free. As I was paid a measly one lode a day, you can understand how furious this ridiculous amount made me.

Not only this, but the smallest errors cost you dearly. Forgot to polish your weapon? Five lodes. Even two heartbeats late for your patrol? Ten lodes. As a self-proclaimed master of disorganization, this drove me insane. No matter how much I tried, I usually ended a week with a single lode.

As I thought about this, I glumly shook my nearly empty bag and scanned my room. Or rather, my rooms. Despite the fact that I had no mates, Lord Edik had given me a classic wyk's quarters; a living room with nine bedrooms branching off of it. One for me and one for each of my non-existent mates. I wanted to refuse, as I didn't need all the space, but my new commander Kulya informed me it's because this way our oh-so-generous Lord could pay me only half of what he paid the fyns or less valuable wyks, claiming the other half as my "room and board." It was bullshit.

I suppose the rooms could be luxurious if they weren't completely barren of any personality. And furniture, for that matter. My "bed" was a pile of blankets and pillows in the middle of the floor in my personal room. I was currently sitting on it - not particularly comfortable, but it was better than the floor. The other rooms were completely empty.

Hopefully they would stay that way.

"Anita!" A sing-songy voice came from outside my door and I closed my eyes, hoping it would go away. I recognized that voice the same way one might recognize the sound of breaking wood - something you really didn't want.