A Terrible Villain And Their Destiny

“Alright, the gate should be ready.” Coni said as she finished drawing down the last magic symbol on the ground.

Fluttering her way back to Bryson and Eimra she told him, “Just need to activate it now.”

“Alright.” Bryson said with a nod before looking over to the very excited ice dragon who began wagging her tail like a dog.

“Are you ready?” He asked.

“Yes, I’m going back home!” She said excitedly.

“Remember to not do anything stupid. Pinop will have constant checkups with you.” Bryson warned as he activated the portal. With a loud zap, a tear in space appeared and expanded into a large portal that sat there humming quietly in the middle of field in front of them.

“I’ll make sure to be on my best behaviour!” She assured him before looking over to the portal, “So I just need to walk in?”

“Yes, I’ve set the coordinates to be a nice flatland, near some civilization that should be pretty accommodating to dragons.” Coni said.

“Then this would be goodbye?” Eimra asked looking over to Bryson.

“Uh, I guess.” Bryson said with a shrug.

“Wait.” Florence said emerging from behind Bryson seemingly out of nowhere.

“Grrrhh!” Bryson screamed through gritted teeth as he jumped back. He glared angrily at Florence who didn’t seem to react. How do people keep doing this to me? He cursed at himself internally.

“Before you leave, you need to take this with you.” Florence said holding out a massive crate that was as tall as her out towards Eimra, “There is enough medical supplies to insure your complete recovery.”

“Why is there so much of it?” Bryson asked looking at the massive crate.

“It contains medicine, salves, bandages, and supplements.” She said.

“Supplements?” Bryson asked raising an eyebrow.

“To help with recovery.” She said as if it was obvious.

“Thank you Florence!” Eimra said taking the crate with one large claw.

“You know I can turn into a more humanoid form once my wounds heal a bit, so I shouldn’t need this much of it.” Eimra said.

“Yes, I am aware. But it always better to be safe then sorry.” Florence said simply.

“Well thank you very much. Here, take some dragon scales that I shed; I know they’re supposed to be valuable. Feel free to keep whatever you find from my old home.” She said dropping a few large scales into Florence’s arms.

“I’m, just doing my job.”

“If there’s nothing else to do then feel free to step through the portal.” Coni said.

“Alright then, oh wait! One more thing.” Eimra said before realizing something.

“What?” Bryson asked as Eimra moved in and nudged him with her snout.

“Personal space.” Bryson grumbled as Eimra pulled back.

“Goodbye lord Bryson! I’ll remember you!” She said as she practically galloped her way through the portal.

“Oh, I’ll go and follow her to help her set up, I should be back in a few minutes.” Coni said and followed her through the portal.

Bryson looked over to Florence and asked, “Why did she do that?” He said confused as to why the massive ice dragon had nudged him.

Florence only gave a shrug, “I don’t understand dragon culture enough.”

“Hmm.” Bryson grunted in response watching the portal.

“By the way, how did you parents take you losing an ice dragon?” Florence asked.

“Uh… they took it.” Bryson said recalling the mention of his admonishment later.

“You’re in trouble aren’t you?”

Bryson gave a beleaguered sigh, “Probably.” He muttered as he stared at the portal. Maybe I won’t hate it.

***

Bryson stood in the middle of the field waiting for his turn in the croquet game. As he waited, he simply stared vacantly at the hammer in his hands wondering if it was worth breaking his foot with it to escape.

Bryson had dreaded the punishment his parents would have thought of once he had got back from the mountains, he was right to do so. For the last three weeks, he had to attend every single event and gathering, take extra lessons and was forced to do a mountain of homework.

He was told that his punishment was ending soon, but it couldn’t be soon enough for him. There was no set date for when it would be over and Bryson feared that this would plague him for the rest of his years.

His current tribulation was attending the after-party of the grand opening of a new Communicator production factory run by the Snowfield family. As a symbol of support, a Coldwater was to attend. So here he was at a park playing croquet, he hated croquet.

Now normally Bryson would be too young to be the one to represent the Coldwaters, but thankfully the Snowfields much like other aristocrats have children. This after-party was for Bryson to meet his hockey-playing rival, son of Marquess Snowfield, Frans Snowfield and at least seemingly to strengthen their relationship.

In actuality, neither boy enjoyed each other's company. Aside from the fact that they were divisional rivals on their respective hockey teams, they were both nobles, the same age and talented. Competition came naturally between one of the most important noble families’ children and the most important one on the continent. In addition, Frans simply hated Bryson for what he was.

It wasn’t a secret that Bryson wasn’t fully related to the Duke and Duchess Coldwater by blood. He had that menacing presence that all Coldwater’s held, but his birth had been suspicious, some called him a bastard.

They weren’t necessarily wrong, and adoption wasn’t uncommon even amongst the highest-ranking of nobles. With plenty of younger nobles siring children out of wedlock or simply unable to give birth to one and thus getting heirs that aren’t traditionally part of the family.

With that being said, there were still plenty of those who turned their nose to these sorts of people. While frowning at the cheating aspect of it was more than understandable, the idea of adoption is also held with the same opinion. For nobles were nobles, and their blood should not be lumped in with those without it.

While the Snowfields as a whole didn’t necessarily hold these viewpoints, Frans did. The Snowfields in general were a more traditional house and Frans being their only son out of their four children made him the star of the family and gave him quite the big head.

Frans found the idea of Bryson, a boy who at best was a bastard and at worse some no-named low-born who lucked his way into high nobility, revolting. Worse yet, whenever his parents wanted him to be held at a higher standard, who would be compared to Bryson.

Bryson was so much cleverer than he was, Bryson was so much more talented with magic, Bryson knows how to act reserved and calm. Frans also thought that Bryson was a lazy hack with no people skills.

Bryson on the other hand thought very little of Frans. In fact he would rather never have to think of that arrogant idiot. He found Frans’s ego irritating and his constant need to make others feel less than him aggravating.

Even though Frans had just turned twelve Bryson had heard that Frans was already playing politics. Trying to get all the lower noble children to owe him little favours here and there and then demanding the favours to be paid back with interest.

Born in the first month of the year, Frans by default was the eldest in their year group and in his opinion that made him better than the others. Despite there always being at least one person better than him at something, Franz acted like he was the best in the world.

That ego coupled along with being the son of a Marquess meant that if there was anyone not of equal standing was willing to challenge him, they would end up being brutalized and humiliated. Though never by his own hands, too risky.

With the use of hired goons doing his work, he could keep his hands clean. Even if accusations came his way all he would need to do is show some crocodile tears and his parents would obviously forgive the golden boy.

In short Frans was nothing more than a coward and a bully. Also he couldn’t keep a puck on his stick if he tried. Bryson thought as he heard someone call to him.

“Bryson I believe it’s your turn. Would you mind getting your head out of the clouds?” Frans said mockingly. The other noble kids around them glanced over to Bryson as if anticipating something.

“You’re done already Snowfield? Didn’t take much time to think did you?” Bryson said casually as he walked forward.

“I didn’t realize hitting a ball with a hammer required so much brain power from you.” Frans smirked.

Bryson took one look at the field before saying, “It looks like you could use some more brain power, that or glasses. I mean look how far you were off the mark.” Bryson said as he walked over to his ball.

“Seriously, you couldn’t get it through the wicket? No wonder you never score when we play hockey.” Bryson said.

“Needing to talk about a different sport to feel more adequate now?” Frans spat.

All the while this conversation was happening the other noble boys were very much enjoying this duel of insults. The back and forth have always been an entertaining sight behold. Bryson was one of the few people actually in a higher position than Frans and not being petty enough to laud his power over him. This resulted in the two constantly trading barbs, though with Bryson’s lack of public attendance it was usually only seen on the ice rink.

Bryson hit his blue ball and bounced up and over Frans’s red one and through the wicket. The others watching politely clapped.

“No, not really.” Bryson said, “Now if you don’t mind moving out of the way, you are blocking my next shot.” Bryson said as he began to approach Frans. Good thing I can at least hit a ball. Otherwise this day would be even more miserable. He thought.

“Hey! That’s my car!” Someone yelled.

Bryson whipped around confused and saw it was one of the fathers. An Earl if he recalled correctly. He was angrily running after a very nice-looking car that was racing out of the parking lot.

“Stop those thieves! Who was watching the lot?” He screamed desperately as the car quickly turned a corner and the roar of the engine grew fainter and fainter.

Marquess Snowfield came running over with a few servants. Minutes later it seemed that some of the security approached and were given quite the talking to for their lack of security. After a few more minutes Marquess Snowfield approached them.

“I’m sorry, but due to events involving the Ranalignum family, this event is unfortunately over.” He said awkwardly.

Complaints from the children began and he quickly said, “I understand the disappointment. But with respect for what happened with the Ranalignums we think it would be only appropriate to end the party.”

Thank the gods. Bryson thought as Frans began to leave, though not before turning to glare at Bryson.

Lila approached to pick him up. Bryson was about to leave before pausing.

“Frost, where is Earl Ranalignums?” He asked.

“Uh, I think he would be waiting in the lounge waiting for a new car to pick him up.” Lila answered, “Why?”

“I think I’m going to try to end my probation.” Bryson said.