Chem lets the King answer, giving him the air with respectful silence as he keeps his eyes to the horizon for now. The thought digests, Amet’s counter offer hangs on the chilly wind and smile begins to crease the edges of Chem’s coal-black muzzle. He lays an ear to the scaled stallion standing some distance off still, his eyes sliding slowly to meet his once again. “A fair trade, certainly.” His grin is crooked and is almost obviously devious, but at the moment it is accompanied by honesty – it is a rare moment of purity for him. He recalls stories from his grandfather, stories of an old world and the patriarch’s wild origins. Mohan came from a world of wars and armies, great halls and mischievous Gods, rampant magic and murderous Kings & Queens of all types and powers. Among those many things of this mysterious old world his grandfather spoke of his family’s hall. A great place carved of stone and living trees, roots, vines and other earthly things to make up a strong castile to house a hundred or more generations (sometimes once!). This was a place of sanctuary for Mohan’s relatives and allies. There they trained for combat and espionage, schooling scholars and history – this particular detail Chem tries to recall in this moment now as Amet speaks of teaching…
Professors, they were called, he runs this thought through his mind and casts his eyes back to the horizon.
Chem sucks a cold breath into his lungs, through his teeth and rolling freely down into his chest and exhaling gently through wide-brimmed nostrils. “I’ll call a gathering then, of whomever wants to learn – I may need a half-season or so to get it together, but I’ll get started as soon as’m able, Amet. And then report to you.” His eyes find the dragon-stallion again to read him carefully. “And I’ll always have my eye out for threats to our great lake home.” He adds this in a cool low tone, almost as if it is for himself more than Amet. Home; a place for his children, himself, the rest. He cannot help but let a sense of pride tingle in the stem of his brain. It’s been a while since he’s felt a part of something, and this something seems more real than anything that has come before it. Perhaps this is the beginning archway in his path, his destined path, the one his ancestors prefer him on.
chemdog
astra inclinant, sed non obligant.
@[Amet]
