Music: Creeping by Rook

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I’ve read about this spellcraft. Ugly, but effective pest control, I guess.

—Rook

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Well, the time has come for the Draconis Wager team to relocate. We have an opportunity to make a lifestyle shift that will enable the team to work even harder on Draconis Wager and other Records of Ey’Faelon projects!

Don’t worry though, the website home for Draconis Wager is staying right here!

Please bear with us while we make this transition. It’s a challenging time, but we’re very excited for the chance to tell this story with a renewed vigor and dedication!

Expect to see more Draconis Wager comic and short story updates as we enter the Fall of 2024. Thank you all for coming on this journey with us!

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Higitus, figitus, migitus, mum…
Prestidigitonium.

See you further down the trail, Traveler!

— Rook

Hopelessness is infectious. When you’ve caught it, it’s best to keep your mouth closed.

—Rook

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Wow... It seems like maybe you’ve got something else on your mind, Captain. Or someone?

—Rook

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Captain Santiago seems competent, but this Lieutenant Tosh? Is “space-y” the right word?

—Rook

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Ooh, it looks like Antonio has a backup plan!

—Rook

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Damn the dragons? What, like all of them? What’d they do to you?

—Rook

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Yeah… maybe that was a little easy now that you mention it…

—Rook

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Observe, act, and react — the core of any succesful stealth opperation. Also silence, but that goes without saying… heh.

—Rook

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Literally everything — every game, story, book, or activity — everything is more fun with a grappling hook.

—Rook

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All good adventures are born at sea. As are all good shanties.

—Rook

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“Compulsory? What does that mean?”

Antonio looked down at the slip of parchment in his hands. It was a cheap, mass printed pamphlet that had been handed out at the Harmonium Academy to all the teens his age. He’d folded it up and stuffed it into the pocket of his schoolbag at the time, hardly giving it a second glance.

Now however, in his aunt’s home, the seemingly insignificant sheet of paper held his rapt attention.

“Read the whole thing, Mijo. Context is key,”  Tía Lucia said patiently, pressing her hands into the corn dough laid out in front of her and kneading it together.

“By order of her Majesty, long may she reign, and administered by High Admiral Ramón de la Costa,” Antonio started, before clearing his throat as he hopped up onto the kitchen counter. He began to make himself comfortable just as his aunt caught him and clucked disapprovingly, shoeing him off the counter with a dishrag.

Antonio grinned and continued reading aloud. “The Conchordian Navy hereby enacts the Compulsory Service Statute of 1401 EC, allowing for cons… I’m not sure of this word either, Tía Lucia. Conscription?” He paused to look at his aunt, though she only nodded him onward. “...conscription of any and all able-bodied citizens of serviceable age to report to the nearest naval recruitment officer upon the day of their educational commencement. All citizens will serve two years in training and four years in service to Her Majesty’s Naval forces, after which they shall be offered a career Officer station or compensated for their service and released from duty.”

He paused a moment, frowning at the words as he read them again silently. His lips framed the words soundlessly as he processed their meaning, and what it would mean for his future. It was then that he noticed the words at the bottom of the page — written in an entirely different script, as if in afterthought.

“Congratulations on your graduation,” he read aloud, his voice barely above a whisper.

A sudden echoing crash snapped him out of his daze as the unmistakable clatter of shattering glass rang through the open-air kitchen. Antonio’s gaze snapped away from the paper to where Tía Lucia stood, now only holding half of a rolling pin in one shaking fist. The glass board she’d been working the dough near had been smashed, and among the shards of glass sat the other half of the splintered rolling pin.

Antonio dropped the paper, rushing to her side. Her back was turned, but he could already see her shoulders shaking as she drew in one long angry breath.

“First my sister and her sweet Miguel…” she said, her body sinking in defeat. “And now she demands their boy, right out from under me.”

“Tía Lucia, please, your heart!” Antonio plead, but the tears welling in her eyes began to stream down her cheeks regardless.

“Please listen, Mijo. I never said this to your mother, but I’m going to say it to you while I can.” Her voice was firm, even if it cracked under the weight of her constrained sobs.

“Over the last fifty years, I have learned there is nothing you can own – NOTHING – that cannot be taken away from you. Nothing but your feelings, your connections, the ties you share with those you love.” She tenderly wiped the tears out of her eyes and turned to look into his.

“And I love you, Antonio. With all my heart. You’re strong and kind, and a little dumb sometimes, but never too proud to admit it.” Antonio coughed out a chuckle, blushing as she spoke. “Your mother would be so proud of you. And that’s something the Queen and all her carajo soldiers can’t take from you. Not ever.” She hugged him close to her chest, engulfing him in her big, strong, soft arms.

After a moment, she released him, cheeks wet with her tears, apron damp with his.

The teenage boy wiped the snot from his nose, caught up in the emotion of the moment, before he bent to pick up the parchment from the kitchen floor.

“Okay so… what does it mean exactly?” he asked, a plaintively simple request.

Tía Lucia burst out laughing despite herself, her cheeks turning red. “Come, Mijo. You can help me clean up this mess while I explain to you the Conchordian Naval draft.”

The families we choose often become closer than the ones chosen for us.

—Rook

Chapter 1

Could it be that when you dream of someone from your past, they’re also dreaming of you?

—Rook

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The emotions of love and hate are connected deeper than we can understand.

—Rook

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I think she’s saying to learn from your loss, don’t let a great sacrifice be in vain.

—Rook

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If stories have taught me anything, it's that you can always trust an esoteric sea witch.

—Rook

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Go ahead, try to keep THAT sand out of your eyes. I dare ya.

—Rook

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It’s generally ill-advised to swim towards a burning ship.

—Rook

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We are all little alone. But together, perhaps we can feel a little bigger.

—Rook

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Some decisions require thought. Some don’t.

—Rook

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