Moltin Gold
© 2024 by Walter Reimer and E.O. Costello

A continuation of Cleanup Crew and Cleaning Up

Thumbnail art by  tegerio, color and SerfPro logo by  marmelmm


Three.



Stedanko gave a long-suffering sigh. “Capability,” he said without turning around, “you . . . are late.”

“Late!” the huge pink dragon exclaimed in an indignant tone as he ambled forward. To the surprise of some, he had a pair of panniers affixed around his ample belly. “I, my good chum of many years, am never late. I’m always on time; you are early,” he stated in an unequivocal tone.

The Sergeant-at-Arms rolled his eyes. “Well then, since we’ve apparently been waiting for you – “

“Just so,” Pinque said primly.

“ – You may want to greet our hosts,” Forgecleaver said. He muttered something under his breath that sounded very much like “slugabed.”

If he heard, Capability pretended he didn’t hear it. “Oh, of course, of course! Alcibiades! Skies, where is the fellow?” He made a show of looking around.

Lord Ruther said, “Over here, Capability,” the wolf said with a wry smile as the other furs shared a chuckle at the dragon’s antics.

“Of course! Fair evening, my Lord Ruther,” and Capability gave a deep bow. “And where is the fair Sybil?” Ruther pointed, and the pink dragon pivoted to bow much lower to the young dragoness. “My dear, may I humbly offer felicitations, and the best wishes of the night and day upon your third molting.”

Sybil smiled and bowed in return. “Thank you, my good friend, and I’m glad you’re here.”

Capability reached into his left pannier and produced a gaudily wrapped box. “For you, my dear, on your special day.” Once Sybil had the box, he turned on Ruther. “Alcibiades! I see that they dug old Stedanko here out of his comfortable couch, but what appendage of your country’s ruling class was hauled up here?”

“CLASS?! CLASS!?” Marie Elefant shouted. She set her glass down on a table and marched toward the much larger dragon.

He didn’t seem affected by her approach. “Ah, a member of the fairer sex. And to whom do I owe the honor of addressing?”

“This is State Councillor Marie Elefant, Capability,” Lord Ruther said.

“Really?” He eyed the tapir femme. “Elefant by name, but not by nature, eh? Skies Above, woman!” he said, craning his neck to see her rear end as well as her bosom. “Surely you’ll never fear drowning, Miss.”

There was a soft titter from several of the gathered furs (and at least one dragon) as Elefant said, “I’m married.”

Capability gave a pleased grin and bowed. "Married! Blessings upon you both, and upon your marriage bed! Although I daresay your husband will not want for shade in the summer and heat in the winter, eh?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

He blinked as she slapped a meaty paw across the tip of his nose. “You, sir, are a lout,” she declared.

Capability reared back and slapped a paw against his chest. "Me, a lout? Skies Above! I could show you some dragons that live near here that fit that description to a T, my dear. They don't even know which fork to use for seafood." He gave a little start, as if recalling something, and said, “Alcibiades, since Stedanko has been here before me, please don’t tell me he’s had all the cream cakes.”

“I have not!” Forgecleaver protested.

“And well you shouldn’t,” and Capability wagged a finger at him. “Honestly, if your rear gets any bigger you’ll have trouble fitting through your front door.” He leaned close to Sybil. “His front door’s the size of one of those airship hangars, my dear,” and the young dragoness smothered a laugh.

“Oh?” Forgecleaver asked. “And what about your paunch, you wastrel?”

“’Paunch?’ I, sir, do not have a ‘paunch.’ I have an embonpoint,” the other dragon, putting his nose in the air.

“Capability?” Lord Ruther asked.

“Yes, Alcibiades?”

The wolf smiled. “A good host is prepared to satisfy his guests’ needs, so I made sure there are enough cream cakes.”

“Oh-h-h-h?” the pink-dyed dragon asked.

“And there are even some chocolate ones – HEY!”

Before he could react, Capability had seized the noble in his forepaws and hugged him. “Ah, Alcibiades, you are a true friend, and a tribute to both the nobility and wolves everywhere,” the dragon declared as the assembled guests laughed. He set Ruther on his feet and held him until the wolf had regained his balance.

The wolf shook his head and straightened his suit and sash before glaring up at Capability, who had the grace to blush. “If you’re done, Capability – “

“Oh, of course, of course.”

“ – Then I invite everyone to enjoy themselves,” the wolf said. “The priestesses will inform us of the right time to begin the ritual.” The sextet of dragonesses bowed to the applause and joined the revelry as servants brought out carts of dragon-sized goblets and snacks.

Capability accepted a chocolate cream cake and a goblet of wine and smiled when he saw that Sybil had opened her present. The young dragoness was admiring the large silk brocade shawl, and Sybil said to Capability, “Thank you so much for the gift.”

“My pleasure, my dear girl,” he said. “It may be useful when the winter winds blow around your new home.” He smiled at Yohan and Darina as Sybil’s foster parents came over to admire Sybil’s gift and nuzzle their foster daughter. She returned the gestures with demure affection, as if still unsure of herself.

“Goodness, Mister Pinque,” Marissa said as she, the arctic vixen, and the doe walked over to him. “You almost looked afraid of Lord Ruther.”

The pink-dyed dragon grinned. “My dear, at my age – “

“And girth,” Stedanko called out.

Capability pouted at him as everyone laughed. “As I was saying, at my age, I fear nothing but decrepit old age and my creditors. And I am very pleased to see all of you, and all the more pleased that you made it up here!”

“We came up by funicular,” Marjorie said.

“Really! If I were five molts smaller, my dears, I would love to try that – ah, but I see that at least one of your party wasn’t so enamored of it,” he said, eyeing Alys, whose tail had bottled out again at the reminder that she would have to get down the mountain the same way.

Capability leaned close to the arctic vixen. “Fear not, my dear, you don’t have to use that funicular to get back down.”

“N-No?”

“I could have you climb into one of my panniers, and fly down.” Alys’ eyes went wide as saucers and she shrank back slightly, and the dragon gave a soft chuckle. “I jest, my dear vulpine, but if you agreed to the trip, you are the right size to hide completely and I would fly slowly and carefully. I have given furs rides before, with no complaints.”

“I still recall that one ride you gave me,” Lord Ruther said, walking up with a glass of wine in his paw.

“I was having fun,” Capability countered.

“What happened?” Alys asked.

The wolf jerked a thumb at the dragon. “We were over Worthington Lake,” he said, “and Capability here decides it’s such a nice day that he should do a barrel roll.” He glanced up shrewdly at the larger creature. “Apparently forgetting that I was on his back.”

“I said I was sorry. And you weren’t hurt.”

“And what else?”

Capability rolled his eyes. “And I was too low to do a barrel roll.”

“And?”

“And we both ended up in the lake.” He gave a mock pout as the three femmes laughed. “Well, in my defense it was a very hot day.”

“Yes, it was,” Ruther said, and he thumped his fist against the dragon’s hip. The two old friends shared a smile, and every ear on the plateau suddenly perked as one of the priestesses whistled for attention.

The Moon had risen over the eastern peaks.

“Come forward, Sybil Stormburner,” and Sybil hugged her foster parents and stepped up to them. “Are you ready, Fledgling?” the priestess asked as everyone quieted.

She swallowed and recited, “I am come into my third molt, and I claim my right as a Dragon, to be one with the Ever-changing Sky.”

The six priestesses stepped back and moved into a circle, wings spread. “Come to us,” the senior priestess said, “enter a Fledging, and leave a Dragon.”

As Sybil walked over to the circle, Capability leaned close to Marjorie, Marissa and Alys. Pitching his voice low, he said quietly, “Of course, young dragons aren’t fledglings, they don’t have feathers. They’re translating from the Draconic.” They all nodded as Sybil entered the circle and the priestesses closed ranks, blocking her from view.

Lord Ruther moved to stand beside the Stormburners as the priestesses began chanting. “They’re singing prayers and praises to the Sky,” Capability supplied helpfully. “While she sheds her skin.”

Marjorie and Alys stood, awestruck by the sheer power in the song, while Marissa whispered, “When will it be over?”

“When we hear dear Sybil roar,” Capability replied.

Marissa was about to ask another question when the chanting abruptly stopped and a roar that was part feminine scream split the air. The priestess moved one wing aside to show Sybil standing there, her hide now gleaming in the lights. A pile of shed skin sat at her feet.

“Behold,” the priestess said. “A Dragon!”

Everyone cheered as Sybil stepped forward to be hugged and nuzzled by her guardian and foster parents, and “Oohed” as the six priestesses turned as one and, with a roar, vomited fire onto the spot where Sybil had shed her hide. The skin jumped from the impact, exploding into flames as the other dragons roared in approval.

Imbued as it was with magic, the shed skin burned for a while as the priestesses intoned more prayers until it was all ashes. Only then did the six dragonesses return to the party.

Music was provided by a hired string quartet as more food and drink was brought out, and as the Moon climbed higher into the sky Capability gestured for Marissa, Alys and Marjorie to come closer to him. “I didn’t just bring a gift for Sybil,” he said, reaching into a pannier and giving the vixen, tabby, and doe a small flat box each.

“What is it?” Marissa asked, opening the box to reveal a swatch of what appeared to be grayish leather perhaps nine inches by six.

Capability lowered his voice. “I had planned on giving you three gifts, but I was simply at sixes and sevens trying to think of what to get. But it came to me that you three are in a possibly hazardous job, so you might need these.” He lowered his voice further. “They are pieces of my sixth molt.”

Marjorie started to gasp, but he raised a claw. “Shh, my dear cervine. They’re very valuable, as you might expect, but if you are ever injured, by anything magical or poisonous, simply rub the affected area with the hide.” His lips quirked in a smile. “They’re even washable.”

“Thank you,” Alys breathed. “Thank you so very much.”

Capability smiled. “You are all very welcome, my dears. Now,” he said as he glanced to his right, “you must excuse me. Stedanko, you villain! That had better not be the last chocolate cream cake!” For all his age and bulk, the pink dragon moved surprisingly nimbly to confront the Sergeant-at-Arms.

Marissa peeked into her box again. “Wow,” the gray tabby said.

“An actual piece of dragonhide,” Marjorie said.

Alys was still largely speechless, but her white brush was wagging.

The main event over, the furs attending the party and several of the dragons departed for their homes, and by the time the Moon had reached its zenith there were very few attendees remaining. Alys glanced to her right and tapped Marjorie on the shoulder. “Hey,” she said to the doe, loud enough to get Marissa’s attention as well.

“What’s up, Alys?” the gray tabby asked.

In response, the vixen pointed to the flat plain, where Sybil was hugging Lord Ruther as her foster parents looked on. “I think we should be saying our good-byes,” Alys said.

The trio walked over as Sybil released her guardian and Ruther wiped his eyes with a kerchief. The wolf said something in Draconic, and the three dragons briefly bowed their heads. He glanced over his shoulder as the three femmes walked up and said, “Ah, good.” He stepped back.

All three hugged Sybil in turn, and Marissa asked, “Will we see you again?”

“Keep watching the skies,” the young dragon replied, and she smiled as Marjorie hugged her again. “Farewell, my friends.”

“Bye, Sybil,” Alys said. “It’s been wonderful meeting you.”

“Don’t eat anything that doesn’t agree with you, okay?” Marissa said.

Sybil chuckled. “I’ll try. Now, if you would please step back.” The trio complied, and Sybil unfurled her wings, broke into a trot that ended in a jump and, after a few strong, rapid flaps, was airborne. She started circling, gaining altitude.

The Stoneburners bowed to Lord Ruther before they, too, took to the air, joining their foster daughter in flight. They were briefly silhouetted against the full Moon before turning southwest. They were soon lost to sight.

Marissa sniffled.

Marjorie said, “Lord Ruther, I think we should say our goodbyes as well.”

The wolf gave them a melancholy smile. “Yes, it’s after midnight, and a party seems to lose something when the guest of honor leaves.” He extended a paw. “Thank you all for coming.”
Marjorie and Marissa shook his paw, but to his surprise Alys hugged him. “What was that for?” he asked.

“You looked like you could use one, my Lord,” the arctic vixen said.

The wolf looked down at her, his ears still down, but he smiled. “Thank you, Alys.”

The trio were driven back to the funicular station where, despite the darkness, the arctic vixen insisted on covering her eyes as the car made its way down the mountain. She was unusually quiet as they were driven back to the SerfPro office, and she made her goodbyes to Marissa and Marjorie before heading for home, her gift from Capability tucked under one arm.

Marjorie stretched. “Well, I’m headed home. See you tomorrow, Marissa.”

“Yeah,” the gray tabby said. “What was up with Alys, I wonder?”

“Don’t know,” the doe said, “but I might want to keep an eye on Alys.”

“Why?”

Marjorie shrugged. “Just in case. SerfPro’s job is taking care of problems, after all.”


end



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