Glyndwr Arget, the fake warlock.

"Are they breaking In or are they breaking out!?" a voice yelled through the small birds that sat upon the shoulders of each of the witches that roamed the facility. "There must be someone in, because all of the samples are breaking out!"  another panicked voice yelled. The witch that stood guard near his cell was on guard, hands already pulsing with a magical energy that even from a distance felt dreadfully cold. Then a hooded figure dropped from above down next to the witch, entirely silent and lithe in it's movements, dancing across to the back of the witch as she let loose a wave of ice in the direction where the shape that moved across her periphery was just moments before. The figure slashed at the throat of the witch and snatched the keys from her belt in one smooth movement. She collapsed as she clutched at her throat while the figure unlocked the two cells within the larger room. "See ya' outside, if ya' can manage it," the figure spoke, waving as it dashed out of the room. The small bird fluttered away and in midair burst into a clump of raven feathers.

Beyond wanting to vomit, the boy who looked on from the now-open cell wanted nothing more to get out. He pulled the witch's long dagger, that to him was more like a short sword, from her belt and quickly looked away from the scene of the still-dying witch before him. A glance to the now-free dragon was enough and the two were quickly on their way. It seemed like there was a trail that was mostly safe, as along the way the two would see a floating soul or the body of a witch taken by surprise and in the process of dying; at least the way seemed safe until the jet black form of the raven witch leader flew from a side corridor and landed in front of them following a mid-air transformation. Whether it was a fight-or-flight reaction, rage, or instinct that had the boy's dagger swinging soon as he saw who it really was, he did not know. The blow did not land, however, as his opponent was a skilled combatant; with a high-pitched clang she parried with her own knife and sent a wave of pain up the boy's arm. It was all he could do to just put the dagger in the way of the next attack, though that counter-attack reflex of the witch was enough of a distraction for her that the dragon up to now ignored by her could jump and latch onto the witch's sword arm.

The glancing blow that followed, brought out of alignment by the weight and thrashing of the dragon, still sent the boy's dagger into the floor and the boy onto his knees. Still, his hand gripped the hilt and despite the pain that his arm was in he stabbed upwards  as he burst forwards from the ground. Thinking as one, he was well aware of the movements of the flailing dragon and by extension the sword arm it had chosen to bite, claw, and otherwise maim, so the boy avoided it by a hair and instead slashed across the inside of the witch's thigh. The momentum carried him through between her legs just before she fell to one knee, looking behind herself as she began to scream a mantra. The boy, having gotten behind her just as the hooded figure did with the witch before, turned around and with that momentum heaved a cleaving strike at her neck. She did not finish the mantra before she collapsed. "Damn... brat..." the witch managed to sputter despite her sliced throat, letting go of the shining combat knife she fought with moments before, right before she turned to ribbons and left her soul floating in front of the boy and the dragon.

The hooded figure was, as promised, waiting outside. Along with the first figure stood another that held a bloodied warhammer resting across their shoulder. The more familiar figure whistled as it, or rather he, pulled back his hood. He looked at the two daggers clutched in each of the boy's bloodstained hands. "There was one target we didn't manage to get to, but it seems we don't need to go back in," the other figure said, adjusting the hammer as they began to walk away.

"I...  I want to go home," the boy said, swaying where he stood; he clasped his hands over his mouth right after, now that the adrenaline was wearing off and it all hit him at once.

"You don't got one where you think you got one no more, that witch you done in took care of that for sure. Your parents are probably okay, but it's not your home no more. Come with us, or go see, but you won' feel any good after," the still-hooded figure said, having had turned around to go and try comfort the boy.


They went straight over to where he lived. They were nice enough to take him, despite their warnings. He knocked on the door and said, hopefully, "Mom!"
"But, I don't have a child... Wait, is that a toy?" said the voice of his mother. He had assumed it a cruel joke at first, but it was clear enough after a few moments that she was serious. They had messed up everything. Biting back the mixed emotions of anger and sorrow and relief that threatened to make themselves shown, he nodded and smiled a fake smile at the person who had forgotten him. "My mistake. Of course you don't. Sorry," he managed to get out before turning around and leaving. "And it is, yes," he lied, looking over his shoulder as he held the purple reptile in his arms as well as he could. It was some comfort, to have the little guy with him  at that moment.

"Didn't we tell ya'?" said the stranger who was flipping a knife by it's hilt, though barely paying attention to what the boy who was glaring off into the distance and biting away tears was doing. "Now you'd better be following me soon or I'll drag ya' and you'd best bet that the dragon ain't going to stop me. I got a muzzle for him if he tries, ya' hear?" he said as he sheathed the blade and started walking. The boy followed, even if he didn't quite know why he trusted this stranger.


The small purple dragon observed from the side, sitting on it's haunches with his tail wrapped around his feet, as his soul-bound partner was made to look like a fool. The cloaked man who saved them decided to take them both in and show his partner how to fend for himself, after allowing him a few weeks to get used to living outside of a cell once again. His methods, however, were unusual.
"Hey, Marcel?" the boy asked, out of breath and struggling to follow the steps of the dance his now-mentor had decided to have him learn.
"What, Glyn?" Marcel answered him, not even slightly bothered by the tiring exercise, going through all of the steps without effort and with grace.
"Why... are you... making me do this... anyway?"
"Told ya' I'd be makin' ya' strong, din't I?"
"How's this... helping me?"
"It'll get ya' strong and it'll get ya' aware of what your body is doing," Marcel answered the question. The small dragon cocked it's head curiously as Marcel gave it a look, "And I ain't doin' it just so ya' can fight folks, so this is the best way. I'll train ya' how ta' use some weapons right later, once ya' get the hang of this."

The small dragon watched as it sat perched on the windowsill in one of the open windows to the forge. He watched as his soul-bound partner was made to work like a mule; at least it looked like that, with how small he was. The other person that allowed the first to take them both in had done so under the condition that the boy would at the very least help earn his keep to some extent. The tongs that his partner held seemed oversized in his hands, but he held them as he was told nontheless.
"Hey, Tanya?" the boy asked while sitting down on one of his breaks.
"That being Mrs. Arget to you. What do you want?"
"How is it that you get the metal to stretch out like that?"
The smith seemed a little surprised that he had asked.
"Well... Uh... It's a bit hard to explain it all proper like Marcel does his fighting, for me."
"Show me?"
"I can try... Hey, um..." she said, looking to the dragon for a moment and then slowly leaning in close to whisper something in the boy's ear. The dragon only knew what she said because the boy and him were soul-bound partners.
"Think you could get the little guy to let me pet him?"


The dragon watched as his soul-bound partner was taught all sorts of things by both Marcel and Tanya. He himself learned plenty of things, too, as he watched. Language was the first, as after a while he didn't need to search for meaning in words through his link to Glyndwr. After that it became easier to learn what his partner was learning, even if he couldn't apply most of it. Marcel taught the boy like a school teacher might have done were he attending one, while continuing with their lessons in dancing, fighting and riding. The small dragon wasn't so small once they began those lessons. Marcel rode a horse while Glyndwr rode upon his back. He rode in a saddle that he himself fashioned, since Tanya was teaching Glyndwr as best as she could about the work she did. It was mostly blacksmithing, but making things in general as well.


The dragon watched, along with Tanya, as Marcel and Glyndwr sparred. It had been about four years since the Arget pair took the two of them in at that point. Marcel and Glyndwr practiced fighting almost as often as they practiced the same dances that Tanya loved to watch, but it was fairly unusual for her to watc the fights as well. It was much more common to see her patching the two of them up afterwards, when things got a little bit out of hand. Marcel was still winning much more often than Glyndwr was, but their technique was on par; Marcel was just much stronger. Glyndwr was the winner of the last match of the session, managing to disarm his mentor. The boy was about to go inside to clean up, when Marcel told him wait. "Come here," he said then, moving on over to where Tanya and Yurio were. Marcel gestured to the ground as Tanya stood up. Glyn sat down, while sharing a confused glance with the dragon.
"We don't got much more that we can teach you," Tanya started, once she was stood beside Marcel.
"Well, whenever ya' like, if ya' like, ya' can get yourself over to Death City. Tanya an' I, we have a deal with the Academy. Tanya's old man, he 'ad a house over there, but he wen' an' he sold it 'way ta the school long as they promised ta let 'im or anyone with 'is name get a place ta' live that suited them an' their situation," Marcel continued.
"You don't got to go, but if you do want to, then you can go and get yourself over there and talk to the school. Your original family may not be your folks no more, but if you can call yourself 'Arget' that'd make us mighty happy," Tanya then said, giving Glyndwr a big grin.
"Oh, but even if ya' go an' go learn at the Academy, you and Yurio both will always 'ave a place with us, here," Marcel finished up their explanation, looking away awkwardly as he scratched his head. He really wasn't very good at that sort of stuff.

Despite being clever a clever kid, Glyndwr didn't quite realise until then that the two of them thought of him as their own kid, but he was more than happy to take up their name. He also decided that it would be best if he finally got himself to a proper school, even if it was one that had a reputation for fighting monsters, and even if his learning was good enough already.