Jargogle sat down next Cardamom, who was sinking a bottle of Which Hazel? He smiled at her and he knew that she had got the message. They had been talking about AIM for the longest time, so really, what else could he be so happy about?
All of them knew that it was a gamble, and that it could go wrong at any point, but they had to chance that they could repurpose the dragon for their own needs. They knew that it was in service to the prophecy that already existed in regards to Ardenti In Mundo, but they wanted to steer it in a way that served perhaps the prophecy and themselves.
Jargogle was at least not a pawn, but there were chess players that were playing on a larger board. He had learned of the Shadow Pyramid as a child; he knew something of the dragons that made it up, but he had heard that they were hidden, and he did not know how … none of them did.
There was a hope that all of the systems that they had put in place might flag up a dragon, but nothing had so far shown up, and even this thing that he had trapped – there was something about him that seemed lessened.
They had heard tell, in the old scriptures that there were those who were gifted in finding the dragons – Alarums, able to read signs, or Smoke Networks as they had come to be known colloquially. Cardamom was gifted in divining water, and it was thought that those of her skill set might be best suited to finding these individuals. If AIM had not been so careless he could have remained hidden for the longest time.
AIM was careless because he cared nothing for what he was supposed to do, and he cared nothing for the destiny that was promised to him. He was, as they often joked, aimless. But he had not realised that his lack of care always put him at the effect of people who were happy to steer him towards his ascendancy, and the doom of those not in their specific camps. They sought to control a weapon; they were as foolish as the weapon itself. Jargogle and his folk believed that they might steer the weapon by convincing him and cajoling him into following the predetermined path, and only slightly altering that course to do what they needed him to do. Were they as foolish as these others? Maybe.
Seely Suffolk, seat of the High Council, rotating meeting halls built on leylines that whispered intermittent strength. The Cunning Folk met there by moonlight, and they discussed their next step. The next step towards finding more dragons.