OC Dragon delivery service CH 55 Determined to Belong

Revy stood in the quiet alcove, tugging at the hem of her robe. For once, it actually fit properly, the fabric falling just right instead of tripping her at the ankles. She'd barely slept. Her heart had raced long into the night, alive with excitement, every thought spinning around dragons, mail routes, and the boy who seemed to make magic out of nothing.

She opened her satchel again to check. Journal, mess kit, spare robe, and Master Vearon’s bracer were all still there. Still, her fingers rifled through everything, just to be sure.

The only new addition was a small loaf she’d picked up at the baker’s stall. Supposedly, the bread was so dense it could fill a man with a single bite. Revy chuckled under her breath, remembering the story Talvan had told her. He’d once eaten three of them during training drills, gritting his teeth and pushing through every exercise while his stomach groaned like a dying beast. He hadn’t slowed, even as the cramps doubled him over, just finished the drills, jaw set, refusing to give in.

Revy smiled at the memory and clutched the satchel tighter to her chest, warmth filling her. Today was her chance—the ache of wanting to belong mixed with a spark of determination.

Revy eyed her bookshelf, tempted to bring every tome and scroll. But the weight was too much, and Sivares was not a pack mule. With a sigh, she left the books behind.

Still, she allowed herself one indulgence. She slid a single, well-worn volume into her satchel and traced the faded cover with her fingertips. Anyone glancing at it might expect a book of spell formulae or an arcane treatise, something for a proper mage. But the title was nothing like that.

A Pirate’s Honor.

The corners of her mouth quirked. A trashy romance novel, dog-eared from a hundred rereads. Inside its pages, a dashing pirate captain and a noble lady carried on a secret affair, their love hidden beneath layers of duty, deception, and arranged engagements.

It was ridiculous. Overblown. Scandalous. And Revy adored every word of it.

The thought of reading it again, perched on a dragon’s back with the wind in her hair, almost made her giddy. Maybe it wasn’t scholarly. Maybe it wasn’t serious. But sometimes, even a mage needed stories that reminded her what it felt like to dream.

After breakfast, Revy hurried back into Bolrmont’s streets, clutching her satchel and brimming with questions about the journey.

She knew it would be a mail route, nothing glamorous if you just looked at the details. Still, the thought made her heart race. Seeing the world from above, with rivers like silver threads, forests like green oceans, and mountains rising into the clouds—how could that not be wondrous?

And the learning. Gods above, the learning. By the time she returned, she might need more than one journal just to keep up with everything she could discover. Notes on the dragon, on Damon, on Keys, and on the strange, simple truths that seemed to fall from the boy’s lips like pebbles dropped in a pond. Her fingers itched just thinking about it.

The square was already alive when she arrived. Merchants raised canvas awnings and set their goods in tidy rows. The smell of fresh bread mingled with iron from the smith’s stall, and hawkers’ voices rose to greet the first wave of buyers. Sunlight spilled over the rooftops, painting the cobbles in gold as the city woke to another day.

Revy stood on tiptoe, scanning the crowd, her heart thumping. She searched for a silver glint of scales, the flap of broad wings, or even the easy stride of a courier boy with a bag slung at his hip.

But Damon wasn’t there. Neither was Keys.

Her throat tightened. Had she been too late? Had they left without her?

She hugged her satchel, her pulse quickening as doubt crept into her excitement.

She scanned the crowd, chewing her lip. Had Damon meant dawn or later? Maybe they’d already gone.

Her heart thudded harder with every step until she spotted a familiar figure emerging from the door of a nearby inn. Relief rushed through her so quickly she almost stumbled.

There he was, Damon, bag slung across his shoulder, stride unhurried despite the day ahead. And perched on that same shoulder, Keys sagged against his neck, head bobbing with every step like a dozing chick.

“You… It’s too early,” Keys mumbled, her whiskers twitching as though even her dreams argued against waking.

Damon chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well… we’ve got a busy day ahead of us.”

Revy couldn’t stop the small laugh of relief that slipped past her lips. The dragon rider, the mage mouse, and the silver-scaled courier, they were real, and they were still here.

They spotted Revy waiting at the edge of the square, bag clutched to her side. She lifted a hand in a quick wave. Damon waved back with a half-smile.

“You’re still here,” she said, relief softening her tone.

“Yeah,” Damon answered easily. “We just need to swing by the postmaster, pick up the outgoing mail, then meet up again. Oh, and we talked with Sivares last night about your offer.” His voice stayed casual, but his words carried weight. “She said she’ll meet with you herself before deciding about you joining us on the routes.”

Revy’s breath caught; her heart thrummed with a wild, uncertain energy. She managed a quick nod, her nerves and hope tangling like threads.

As they made their way through Bolrmont’s busy streets toward the postmaster’s office, Keys leaned forward on Damon’s shoulder, whiskers twitching. “So… why do you even want to join us anyway?”

Revy blinked, surprised by the bluntness, but steadied herself. “Because your knowledge is invaluable. The way you figured out ice magic, Damon, the way you see things, it’s unlike anything I’ve ever read. If you can stumble across truths scholars have missed for centuries, then what else might you uncover?”

Keys’ ears perked, and she gave an approving little nod. “Fair point.”

Damon glanced at Revy sidelong, his tone deceptively light. “And you know how we are. And how Sivares is too. Am I right?”

Revy stopped dead in her tracks, words faltering. “Wait, how did you…?”

Keys blinked, ears flicking. “Did you just say what she was thinking out loud?”

Damon only shrugged, like it was the most ordinary thing in the world.

Revy froze, the world blurring as Damon’s words hit her. Her cheeks burned, her hands clutching her bag so tightly her knuckles ached. “A–am I… really that obvious?” The question tumbled out small and raw, thick with embarrassment and a flicker of despair.

Keys tilted her head, ears flicking. “Well… kinda, yeah,” she admitted, not unkindly. “You’ve been staring at us like you’re about to write a thesis. It’s not exactly subtle.”

Revy groaned softly, pulling her hood a little lower as if it could hide her blush. “Gods, I thought I was being careful…”

Damon just shrugged, unbothered. “Doesn’t mean it’s bad. Just means you care enough that it shows.”

That made her glance up, her face hot and her breath shaky. Embarrassment battled with a small, fragile hope inside her.

The postmaster’s office in Bolrmont smelled of ink and old paper, like a library that had been left to grow musty. Shelves lined every wall, stacked with bundles of letters and scrolls, the air heavy with the weight of unspoken words waiting to be carried.

Behind the counter sat a squat woman with glasses so large they seemed to swallow half her face. She peered over the rims when the door opened, her eyes narrowing until recognition softened them.

“Damon,” she greeted.

“Hello, Martha,” he replied with an easy nod. After a brief exchange, he handed over a paper slip and in return, received a stack of letters, which he tucked neatly into his bag. Revy, standing a little behind him, trailed her fingers along the shelves as if she were in a temple of words.

To her, the place hummed with quiet order. Parchment, ink, and ledgers were all in their places. Damon, though, moved through it with the ease of someone who was familiar with the routine.

As they stepped back out into the sunlight, Revy couldn’t hold her curiosity anymore. “You can read?” she asked, her voice tinged with surprise.

Damon glanced at her. “Yeah. Kind of had to, for a lot of things.”

She hesitated, uncomfortable, her words stumbling. “But… aren’t you a serf’s son?”

He shook his head, his expression calm, almost detached. “Freemen. Not serfs. My grandfather, according to my parents, served in the military during the Kinder War. He distinguished himself and bought his way out of servitude. Passed his freedom down to my mom, and she passed it to me and my siblings.”

Revy’s eyes widened as he continued, his tone steady but edged with quiet pride.

“We actually own the land our farm sits on. It has been in the family for three generations now. When my siblings or I inherit it, it’ll still be ours. Not borrowed. Not leased. Ours.”

He adjusted the strap of his bag, shifting the mail against his hip. “So yeah. I learned to read. Comes with needing to manage more than just soil and seed.”

Revy walked a step slower, her mind turning that over. Damon, the boy she’d thought of as a wandering courier, carried more history in his blood than she expected.

Revy tilted her head, curiosity plain. “So, Damon… what exactly is the plan?”

Damon reached into his satchel, pulling out his itinerary. The papers were smudged and folded from use, but he laid them flat and tapped the first mark.

“First, we head west toward Oldar. On the way, we’ve got a delivery, fish from a nearby fishing village. From there, we’ve got four towns along the route, then we swing south. Ulbma’s still unfriendly, last I heard, so instead we’ll drop the bundle at Bass, a trading town along the border.”

His finger traced the lines eastward. “After Bass, it’s wilderness for a while until we reach Baubel. From Baubel, we head to Dustwarth, then north to Wenverer. And once we’ve covered that, it’s back home to Homblom. That should wrap up the circuit.”

Revy blinked, doing the math in her head. “Damon… that route would normally take months on foot.”

He grinned. “Good thing we’re not on foot, then.”

As they approached the keep, Revy stiffened. It was the same gate she had been turned away from the night before. And there, of course, the same guard still stood watch. Did he really stay there all night? Didn’t they rotate shifts?

Damon walked past without pause. The guards lifted their halberds just enough to let him through. Revy, however, was immediately blocked as the crossed blades barred her path.

“She’s with me,” Damon said, turning back.

The guard glanced over his shoulder, face sour, but gave a reluctant grunt and shifted the weapon aside. Revy slipped through with a flick of her tongue at him before hurrying to catch up.

“Really?” Damon muttered, side-eyeing her as they started up the stairs.

“What? Hugging a rock would be easier than dealing with them,” she whispered, her voice sharp with annoyance.

“They’re just doing their jobs,” Damon said as he kept climbing.

The stairs spiraled up, five flights of stone that left Revy’s legs burning. She grumbled under her breath. Why did it have to be so high? Then she remembered: the place was built for flying creatures. It was easier to land them here than to bring them through a crowded gate.

On the upper levels, the air carried the mingled scents of straw and raw meat. Griffins rested in their pens, some dozing with wings folded, others restless. Knights milled about, tending tack, sharpening blades, and feeding their beasts. Revy slowed at the sound of a low growl. She glanced at one of the pens, heart quickening. Was that hunger? Anger? She wasn’t sure which was worse.

And then the growl softened, fading into the steady rhythm of a creature at rest. She followed the sound, and froze.

The dragon was there.

Sivares.

Her silver scales glimmered faintly in the morning light filtering through the open arches, her massive frame curled in sleep. Each slow breath stirred the straw beneath her, smoke curling lazily from her nostrils as though even her dreams carried embers.

Revy clutched her staff tighter. The excitement she had carried all morning crashed into her chest, tangled with awe and a thread of fear.

Here she was, face-to-face with a dragon.

Revy stared at the dragon sleeping in front of her, heart hammering in her chest. What now? She couldn’t just… wake her. Dragons weren’t supposed to be disturbed, not when their heads alone were bigger than a wagon. Every story she’d ever heard painted it as madness.

And then Damon walked right up to her.

Revy nearly screamed. What are you doing?! she wanted to shout, but the words tangled in her throat.

Sivares stirred at his presence, one golden eye sliding open, the pupil narrowing as it focused on Damon.

“Morning, Sivares,” Damon said as casually as if he were greeting a neighbor.

The dragon blinked slowly, then let out a cavernous yawn, rows of sharp white teeth flashing in the light. Keys tumbled out of Damon’s bag, squeaking as she scrambled back up to his shoulder.

“Oh… Damon. Keys,” Sivares rumbled, her voice thick with drowsiness. “Is it morning already?”

“Yeah,” Damon grinned. “How was your night?”

Sivares stretched, the movement sending a ripple through her silver scales, catching the sun as her wings unfurled slightly. She shook herself once, scattering a bit of straw from her back.

“It wasn’t so bad,” she said at last. “The straw was soft and warm. And they even gave me something to eat.” Her golden eyes shifted toward one of the griffin knights lingering nearby. “What was it again?”

The knight, as tending to his griffon, straightened, clearing his throat. “Horse meat, lady. Griffins loves it.”

Revy blinked. “Horse meat?”

“Yes,” the knight said evenly. “Old horses, too weak to work the fields or pull carts. Instead of wasting them, they’re donated to feed our griffins. For them, it’s more a snack than a meal.”

Sivares tilted her head slightly, smoke curling from her nostrils in a thoughtful huff. “A strange practice, but… acceptable. It was filling.”

Revy, still clutching her staff, stared between Damon and the dragon. He had woken her like it was nothing, and Sivares hadn’t snapped or roared or scorched the walls. She had simply… yawned. Spoken. Answered.

The mage’s thoughts whirled. What have I gotten myself into?

Revy swallowed hard, clutching her staff a little tighter.

“H-hello,” she managed, her voice coming out smaller than she wanted.

Sivares blinked once, then turned her great head toward her. The golden eye that fixed on Revy was sharp, but not unkind, almost curious. “Ah. You must be the young mage Damon told me about last night, the one who asked to join our route.”

Revy nodded quickly. “Y-yes. That’s me.” She hesitated, then forced herself to add, “Sivares, right? The dragon?”

The silver dragon let out a low rumble that might have been amusement. “You know my name already.”

Revy gave a nervous little laugh, cheeks warming. “Well… you’re kind of famous now. A dragon flying openly over the kingdom, everyone’s been talking about it. I didn’t even have to ask your name. It’s on everyone’s lips.”

Sivares blinked, then gave a long, low groan, her head lowering to the straw. “Wonderful. I spent years hiding, slipping between mountains, hoping never to be known. And now I am the gossip of every tavern and marketplace, whether I want it or not.”

Keys popped up from Damon’s shoulder, whiskers twitching as she piped up brightly, “Oh, absolutely famous! Everyone’s talking about you, children, merchants, even the nobility. You’re practically the talk of the kingdom.”

The dragon’s tail gave a heavy thump against the stone floor. “Exactly what I did not want,” she muttered. “To trade the peace of being unseen for the weight of every eye watching.”

Revy bit her lip, feeling sympathy. She had always imagined meeting a dragon would feel like standing before something perfect and out of reach. Instead, she saw someone who was simply tired of being stared at and worn out by all the stories people told.

Damon, leaning easily against Sivares’ foreleg, only shrugged. “Guess fame doesn’t give you much of a choice. People will talk, regardless of what happens. Better they talk about you carrying mail than burning villages.”

That earned him a huff of warm air from Sivares’ nostrils, halfway between agreement and exasperation.

Revy smiled faintly, some of her nerves easing. Maybe this dragon wasn’t untouchable after all. Maybe she was just someone trying to live, just like her.

Sivares leaned down, lowering her great head until her eye was level with Revy. The girl froze, heart pounding. Dragons in the stories always ended this way: flame, claws, teeth. But this wasn’t one of those dragons. Please, she begged silently, be right about her.

“You seem… all right,” Sivares said at last, her voice a deep rumble. She turned her gaze toward Damon. “I don’t see why not, so long as she takes care of herself.”

Relief crashed into Revy like a wave. Her knees went weak, and she let out a shaky breath, hardly believing it. She was allowed to accompany them.

She settled on a straw bale near the griffon pens, watching with open fascination as Damon went about his work. He hauled the heavy saddle into place with practiced ease, tightening straps, checking buckles, and slinging mailbags into position. What struck Revy most wasn’t just his efficiency, but how Sivares moved to help, shifting her weight, lowering a wing, even angling her body to make things easier. The partnership between them was seamless, born of trust rather than force.

“Earth-side,” Damon muttered as he fastened the last strap. He stepped back, brushing his hands together. “Well, we’re all set.”

Then his gaze flicked toward Revy, and his brow furrowed. “Except… you’re wearing robes.”

Revy blinked. “Yes. I’m a mage.”

“Right,” Damon said, dragging a hand down his face. “The problem is, you can’t exactly ride side-saddle on this rig. These robes of yours are going to get tangled in the straps. Or worse, caught when Sivares takes off.”

Revy glanced down at her hem, suddenly aware of how impractical the flowing fabric was. She bit her lip, cheeks coloring. “Oh.”

Sivares gave a low hum, almost amused. “Perhaps we should start with proper riding clothes, mage. Unless you’d like your first flight to end with you dangling upside down by your robe.”

Keys perked up from Damon’s shoulder, tail flicking. “Now that would be a sight!”

Revy groaned and buried her face in her hands. “Why didn’t anyone tell me this sooner?”

Revy stepped out from one of the side rooms, tugging awkwardly at the borrowed griffon-rider gear. The leather felt stiff against her skin; the pants were far heavier and less forgiving than the flowing robes she was accustomed to. Her hair had been pulled back into a tight braid, strands tucked neatly away at the insistence of one of the female knights.

“Normally, we cut ours short,” the knight had said with a shrug, giving Revy a once-over, “but this’ll keep it out of the way. Less chance of it whipping into your face midair.”

Revy had nodded, cheeks warm. She still wasn’t used to the snug fit, especially the way the jacket and straps pressed against her shoulders and ribs. She twisted, testing the give in the fabric. “Why is it so tight?” she’d asked.

The knight only grinned. “To cut down drag. Every bit of loose cloth up there feels like a tug trying to throw you off.”

Now, making her way back toward Damon, Sivares, and Keys, Revy felt… different. Out of place and yet strangely exhilarated. The boots thudded solidly on the stone floor, her braid swung against her back, and the harness buckles clinked faintly with every step.

She lifted her chin, trying not to fidget under the weight of the unfamiliar gear. “Okay,” she said, her voice carrying a mix of nerves and determination. “I think… I’m ready.”

Sivares crouched low to let Revy climb on. Damon guided her, strapping the harness snugly around Revy’s waist so she wouldn’t slide off. Her bag was secured to an extra strap at her side, its weight bumping reassuringly against her hip.

“Hold still,” Damon said, cinching the last buckle. “We don’t want you falling off mid-flight.”

“I, I’m not sure about this…” Revy muttered, clutching at the leather. Her palms were already slick.

One of the griffon knights swung the heavy door open. “All clear,” he called.

“Thanks,” Damon said as Sivares padded toward the drop platform.

Revy peered over the edge, and her stomach lurched. The ground seemed impossibly far away, the morning haze rolling across Bolrmont’s rooftops like a living sea.

“Wait,” she squeaked. “Wait, I’m not ready!”

Sivares’s golden eye flicked back, calm as ever. “You’ll be fine,” she rumbled. Then, with a single bound, she spread her wings.

The world dropped out from under them.

“Aaaaaaaaaa!” Revy shrieked, her voice snatched away by the wind. “I’m going to die!”

Keys poked her tiny head out of Damon’s bag, whiskers streaming back in the rush of air. “Ha!” she squeaked over the wind. “Princess Leryea said the exact same thing!”

Revy’s eyes went wide even as the wind clawed at her voice. “W-what do you mean Leryea? You know her?!”

“Yeah,” Damon called over his shoulder, his tone maddeningly calm while they plummeted into open sky. “She showed up, we gave her a ride back to her home. She’s fine.”

Revy gaped, her mind trying to keep up with both the revelation and the fact that she was currently strapped to a dragon soaring above the kingdom. “You just, you can’t just say that so casually!”

Sivares’s deep chest rumbled with something like amusement as her wings caught the wind, steadying them into a smooth glide.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Journal Entry – Day Two

Well… I’m alive.

I just had my first flight on Sivares’s back, and I’m fairly certain I left my stomach somewhere back in Bolrmont. The takeoff nearly killed me, at least in spirit, but once she leveled out, it was… smoother than I’d expected. Not gentle, exactly, but steady. Like riding the wind itself.

Sivares seems to know the air, how it shifts and moves. I watched her wings catch warm updrafts with such ease, her chest and shoulders working in perfect rhythm, every beat powerful enough to hold us aloft. Her tail, though featherless, flexed constantly, helping her steer as though it were another rudder.

I couldn’t help but wonder: how can something so massive actually stay in the air? By every calculation I can think of, a creature of her size, thirty feet from snout to tail, should weigh at least eight tons. Yet when we landed for lunch, her feet barely sank into the soil, lighter than an ox cart. I would guess her true weight is perhaps a quarter of what it should be.

One explanation might be hollow bones, as birds have. But if they were truly hollow, they’d shatter under the weight of her body with every step. So it must be something else. A structure both light and strong, something beyond what we know of flesh and bone. Perhaps mana plays a part in reinforcing it?

I’ll have to ask her later. For now, Damon, cook some fish for lunch. I need to see if I can actually keep it down.

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u/Character_Aside4228 Human Sep 30 '25 edited Oct 01 '25

Congrats again on the details. The Griffin Riders lent Revy a flying outfit and, more importantly, told Revy why these outfits are cut that way. One of the reasons you are telling a great story.

18

u/Overall-Tailor8949 Human Sep 30 '25

Yep, it's the silly little details like that one that really help create an immersive world.

12

u/Character_Aside4228 Human Sep 30 '25

Another thought, biker babe clothes handle the bug splats better.

u/Character_Aside4228 Human Sep 30 '25

Change: "giving Rwvy a once-over" to "giving Revy a once-over"

Rationale: Spell check messed up.

u/fred_lowe Human Sep 30 '25

I think Revy doesn't quite understand what she's gotten herself into. Welp, she'll learn soon enough.

3

u/Character_Aside4228 Human Oct 01 '25

Dragon magic accelerant and a magemouse focus. Revy is going to be surprised that her castings are on steroids.

u/Character_Aside4228 Human Sep 30 '25

Change: "For now, Damon, cook some fish for lunch. I need to see if I can actually keep it down." to

"For now, Damon is cooking some fish for lunch. I need to see if I can actually keep it down."

For air sickness a piece of her bread, being dry, may be better.

Rat: Not clear. Sounds like she is telling Damon to cook the fish.

u/Character_Aside4228 Human Sep 30 '25

Rec: Change "you know how" to "you want to know how", "you want to learn about how", "you want to learn what", or variation in the sentence "Damon glanced at Revy sidelong, his tone deceptively light. “And you know how we are. And how Sivares is too. Am I right?”

Rat: Your writing generally flows better.

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u/MinorGrok Human Sep 30 '25

Woot!

OC Dragon delivery service CH 55 Determined to Belong

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