The Monster and the Dragon's Kin | Meetings of Fate

 Within a cavern dimly lit by the first rays of dawn, the herald waited in anticipation as they watched their master for the first signs of wakefulness. In steady rhythm, the chamber echoed with the bassy snores of power cycling and the clicking of subroutine restoral as the massive, metal-skinned wvyern slumbered. The herald always woke first in preparedness for the days duties, but such was the minimum of a herald's work. The rhythm faded into a single, low tone as the Great One woke. Shutters pulled back to uncover its eye lenses, tensile cords pulled taught to stretch out its wings and gears spun to move its mighty limbs from rest.
 The Great One regarded its herald with approval as it lifted from the floor, then lumbered in long strides towards the mouth of the cave. Just before reaching the entrance, it lowered its tail to the floor and waited while taking in the view beyond the mountain, creating a ramp up onto its back. The herald obliged and hurried on, securing themself to its back with a harness tied to the spikes along its spine. Satisfied, the machine-beast stomped forward, silvery-scales glittering as they moved into the sunlight, gaining speed with wings spread and jets firing, then leapt off the mountainside.

 Even this high up, the herald could just about make out the daily flow of civilization in the neighbouring lands beyond the Great One's domain, the movement of specks like ants travelling to and fro in service to their colony. They imagined the sound of the wyvern's eye lenses as it zoomed in and out and focussed on individual points of interest. Usually, the lord of this territory chose to survey each quadrant, hovering in place for a short duration before moving round the mountain to look over the next section.
 Today it spotted something.
 It froze in place for a moment, but for the beat of its wings and the burn of its thrusters, assessing the situation and allowing decision algorithms to play out before acting. Then came motion - the herald clung tight to the back of the mechanical dragon as it stooped into a dive, racing downwards through the sky towards target it had sighted.

 The Great One beat its wings once, softening the impact for its rider and scattering the dirt from beneath it, then landed with a thud. The herald unclipped the harness and dropped down at its side to take in the cause of this disturbance.

 The figure before them appeared human, but unerringly so. As if its form had been designed precisely to look as such as opposed to growing into that appearance naturally. Just as strange was the manner of garb they wore - a dress of linked metal worn under an outer layer of patterned fabric. The cloth was of little interest to the herald, nor did they care whether the materials were precious in human society, but the chainmail garb was functionally an impressive work. Although it would do little to dissipate a plasma blast or thermal ray, the majority of the machine beasts who inhabited this region relied on teeth and claws which would find themselves blunted and enfeebled against this simple, but of high quality nontheless, protective layer. However, whoever or whatever this being was, they had evidently not planned to encounter the master of this place.

 Having designed it as a solitary creature that stood above all others, the Great One's creator had not bestowed it with the forms of dialogue used by the lesser beings who preferred to gather in groups. Instead, it communicated in a form of machine speech using its entire form: the whirr of motors, the breath of exhaust vents and the hums and whines of charge-cells and secondary power cores. In the early days, the herald had struggled to grasp any of these nuances and relied for the most part on body language to gather the gist of their master's intentions, but in the years of their continued enlightenment they had come to learn every one of these details as thoroughly as their own tongue.

 "My master wishes to know why you have come to this place."

 "Ah, a translator, this does makes things easier." The pretend human turned to face the herald. "I have been cooped up indoors for ever so long. I felt it was finally time to make a mark on this world for myself, rather than in the service of another."

 The machine-dragon responded with a scalding exhalation and the snarl of gears.

 "This territory is not yours, nor was it ever designated as such."

 "It does not look to me that you have been managing to hold it. By my estimates on the journey here your borders have shrunk to less than sixty-percent of their original size. What would your makers think of that?"

 Makers? thought the herald. They had always assumed that the creator of the Great One was a singular, almighty being, but could it be that their master was the creation of a pantheon?

 Then all of a sudden there was noise and motion. The giant beast reared upwards, opening its maw wide to reveals the arsenal concealed between its jaws as belts fed into place and the glow of accumulating energy painted the figure below in shades of red. Its klaxon-roar sent the forgotten herald stumbling away, their trail of thought scattered in the billowing dust, but there was no need to translate.

 You had your warning. Now you will be destroyed.