The massive Cloud Weaver, its elegant frame slicing through the sky like a blade through silk — or, in Judge's personal experience, like a butter knife struggling against a particularly stubborn loaf of stale bread — bore the Drakonis Family's proud sigil.
The emblem, a soaring dragon with its wings spread wide and its head turned left, always gave Judge the impression that it had just spotted something incredibly disappointing. Perhaps a knight charging at it with a spoon. Or maybe the bill at a fancy restaurant.
As the grand airship traversed the thick white fog, Judge noted a peculiar tightness in his chest, his breathing slightly more labored than usual. Not to an alarming degree — just enough to make him think, "Huh, this is mildly inconvenient" before immediately forgetting about it in favor of more important matters, such as whether he could bribe his sister into silence for the remainder of the trip.
