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G'an was on the observation platform above Brakiath's Hatching Sands and possessed a sour expression. There, below him, was yet another of those Benden Healers and it bothered the Wing Leader something fierce to have his territory invaded like this. Moroth was in perfect agreement in this as while he sat sunning himself like any other bronze, he made sure to take the highest, warmest place and grumble at any foreign bronze that dared to tread too close.


The number of rumours flying about and the knowledge he had clashed like thunderbolts in his mind as he tried to consider the whole of the road they were following. Benden had the Weyrleaders by the balls from what he understood and even just thinking about it made him stiffen up and huff in indignation, pacing as he watched. Havenith was also nearby, perched on one of the many outcroppings that had been arranged to accommodate the dragons, the clutches' sire intent and irate.

G'an and Moroth are near Brakiath's clutch. It is time to meet with them. Opeth and his rider should be there as well. Iweith told his rider. The brown was already on the ledges nearby and glaring in the direction of the Benden camp. The leggy brown was not happy with all the newcomers. Especially the brown who had offended one of their dragons. It had happened two days ago and was significant enough and on V'tur's mind enough that it was still in his. Iweith's eyes were tinged slightly red, something that concerned his rider.

V'tur waited near the entrance of the storerooms. He would not approach his Wingleader until the other witness could be there as well. His eyes took in the sight around him and noticed a boy looking in the direction of the sands. Why wouldn't he with two clutches but somthing about the boy's look worried V'tur. He was one of there own but the look of worry matched the brown rider's own and he knew that whatever was going on was about to come to head.

The bronze lifted his head when addressed and bobbed it in greeting at his subordinate. Opeth. Them? That was all that was needed to rouse the bronze and he stood, stretching his wings as he tossed a glance around the area. Mine, Wingriders wish to speak of Them.

G'an attention had been drawn away from the Sands when
Saykiro had approached but stayed at a distance. It was that expectant, hopeful air he'd come to recognize and the Wingleader turned to regard the Candidate. That the kid was approaching was odd - he didn't often get Candidates coming up to him, something about being intimidated or some such. Rightfully so, but that was beside the point.

"Yes?" He asked, eyed the Candidate, though his gaze turned skyward as the shadow of Moroth fell across them and the bronze delivered his message. Nodding, he frowned slightly, that far away look that suggested mental speech clouding his features. He didn't turn away, however, keeping Saykiro in his line of sight.

Opeth and Iweith wish to speak. Who is the child? The bronze settled down on the platforms near the overlook and peered at the Candidate, assessing him.

A Candidate. Don't know why he's here. Where are they? If they want to speak, they ought to know dallying about like dazed women won't get them anywhere. He frowned. Above, Moroth conveyed the message with the usual frank honesty he was known for.

Iweith looked towards Moroth and rumbled as Opeth landed nearby. His wings pulled in close to his body allowed him to almost seem one with the rocks except for those angry eyes. He hissed and responded to his wing companions. Yes. Them. Who disrespect our dragons. Who say hateful things about those who hatch here.

The brown, agitated, scraped his claws against the rock. If another said bad things about his wing, his weyr, then they were against him. And he would not allow it.


As V'tur approached, he caught the tail end of what the boy had said about oil being used more often. Frowning, he did not like the way the boy shuffled his feet or looked on edge. Maybe he was overreacting or maybe, just maybe there was something more to it with Healers running around like they owned Trine. Iweith's agitation added to his own and V'tur felt a little more dragonish than human in his regard to the intruders. He turned to see Xan coming up behind him also looking ill at ease. Now seemed to be the time to venture into what they had heard and seen.

"Wingleader G'an, our apologies but something has happened. I don't know if you are aware of this but there was an incident between one of the Benden Browns and one of our Black dragons. And then later, between their riders. Rider Xan and myself have come to bear witness." V'tur looked at her and wondered if he should launch into what happened or if she should have a chance to tell what she saw first.

He waited to see what she would do.

G'an's eyes narrowed at that, and for a moment he frowned. The Candidate was worried about heavy oil use? That... went with the territory. Crossing his arms, the Wingleader pursed his lips as he spoke, "That would make sense, Candidate. I don't have time for shy comments and fidgeting, speak or leave me to this." It was his curt way of illiciting strong responses from people and, besides, that oil was being used didn't exactly seem odd.

Saluting to his two riders, the Bronzerider's expression soured at the mention of the altercation. "I am familiar with that event..." These Benden riders were reaching faaar beyond what they should be allowed and it irked G'an something fierce.

Mine, they are concerned with the boy. Should they speak in his presence? There was amusement in the tone of Moroth's voice and he rumbled, looking at Saykiro, They are nervous about one of our own.

G'an's gaze flicked back to the candidate then to his dragon, It's fine. I think he's got something to say but I'm not going to push him, he's got to learn. Besides, he's in the right place at the right time if nothing else. Leave the Candidate be.

Understood. The bronze arched his next to look first at Opeth then Iweith, Do not worry about the boy. Continue.

There were other supplies missing? This was a first to V'tur who normally tried to keep his nose to the ground so to speak. He knew, or at least felt, that Benden was taking more than their fair share of herd beasts, running them unnecessarily. He waited for the boy to run out of energy and then with a look to Xan, started his narration. "Well, sir. Xan and I were coming back from Drill when we saw the altercation but as we made our way through the weyr, we came across the two riders. Fighting. With the Brown rider saying some rather scathing and disturbing things."

V'tur paused for a moment. He recalled the memory easily with all the recent unrest in Trine. He may have been from Igen but this was his home now and one he was quite proud of with its strength and prosperity. "He spoke of supporting the Old Weyrs and their Traditions, sir. And he spoke almost as if Benden were in charge here instead of our own. I know I am a transfer in, sir. But as far as I can tell, this place runs better than any Northern Weyr I have been to!"

He all but burst out this last statement.


Iweith spoke to Moroth. I spoke to the brown who dared to insult our own. His rider does not like it here. And neither does he. It was all I could do to fly away.

"Other supplies missing?" He murmured curiosly, holding a hand up to pause the Candidate. He'd hear the other out after his Riders were finished reporting. Something was afoot.

"Benden is a time honoured figurehead among the Old Weyrs, V'tur. I'm sure you know that. But traditions can go stale and I think it's been too long for Benden's prestige." He pursed his lips, shifting on his feet as Moroth rumbled his annoyance from his perch. "They aren't in control here and Brakiath won't allow them to run wild - have you not noticed how much she's been doing despite her clutch? I don't want either of you fighting anyone, understood?" His tone had become authoritative, sharp.

He was considering the potential that Benden might be backed by the Old Weyrs... he might only be a rider but he knew enough of world politics to know that the Weyrs were a driving force in commerce and peace. If there was a dispute among the Weyrs... G'an closed his eyes, "Your news, however, is certainly worth noting. Who was the Blackrider? Bring him to me and then we'll speak to the Weyrleader."

He nodded to the two and then dismissed them with a salute, "Thank you for bringing this to my attention." Turning to Saykiro then, he walked up to the boy, "Now, you said something about supplies going missing? Is it just the oil?"

It still didn't sound like it was anything definite for the boy. The Wingleader shifted his weight and watched the Candidate try to explain himself. With a sigh, G'an shook his head, "Alright then but that's not good enough. You have to have more of a reason for such accusations. Find the store logs and keep your own, if there is a difference, speak to my riders and inform the Headwoman. You need more then a suspicion if you want to get things done."

He turned away then and Moroth winged his way over, landing heavily and kicking up dust. "Now, I've some things to take care of. Thank you, all, for bringing this to my attention. Keep sharp and look for other things."