Interlude Age and Tales

Interlude Age and Tales

It had been a long time since Nuvityn, King of Men, Elfwed, Leader of the United Peoples of Erribathe, Descendant of the Hundred Families, heir to the Shrouded Crown and the relics of his ancestors, walked the halls of his palace as an observer and not an occupant.

He had other names, other titles accorded to him such that if you wanted to be pedantic, you could use everything from Avels honorary Golden Archer title to the actual accolades hed won in the north among the Taligrit folk. Manoerhog Nuvityn.

The Taligrits had a unique sense of humor. Nor was it a slight. A younger, brash Prince Nuvityn had once joined their festivities and won the title fairly. The most astute diplomats knew that was nofanciful term like an honorary dukedom.

It was a term of endearment that won you a free drink at every pub you came to and had a lot of local prestige. It came from the great and historied practices of Taligrits, who some called the last [Barbarians] and savages of the north, for all they had a proper kingdom of sorts.

The name, uhcame from the saying. Manoerhog.

As inMan Over Hog. Which meant youd beaten a wild boar in a wrestling competition where you endeavored to toss the angry pig into the mud.

Never let it be said that Erribathes great [King of Men] did not know how to inspire all kinds of folk. In truth, the Taligrits would have fit right in with some of Erribathes wild folks.

He still thought he looked the part. Nuvityns hair had finally gone to grey, but only threads amongst dark brown hair. His lines, for all they stood out on his face, still only emphasized a man not yet gone to seed.

He could still stand proudly without clothing or spells to disguise his gut. He still looked like what he was.

[King of Men]. He walked among his people like a reminder of that. He was not touched by immortality like his queen, half-Elven beauty, which was impossible. He was simply what a person could be, in his advancing age. Even when he felt his age in the night, a bearskin cloak hanging around his shoulders, he walked upright.

As if a procession trailed him. Servants didbut perhaps even the mist walked in his shadow, swirling about him. He could look silly. He could be a foolbut sometimes, it sounded like the world was heralding him and the land quieted to watch as he passed.

Thenwhen he laughed, when he joked, the air was light and free, and youth flowed around him, like when he had emerged with a dizzy hog to be crowned Manoerhog, and given the delighted pig half his drink. For he had been both and learned his manners from half-Elves in their eternal villages. But he had ridden bareback and wrestled with his folk of Kehndroth. Spent years in every part of his land growing up.

The third-largest kingdom of Terandria was vast enough for the nomadic Kehndroth folk with their fine steeds to mix, coming down from the highlands with the metal-loving Osverthians. Half-Elves of three forestsand yes, folk who would happily throw down with a wild pig for fun.

Only, the Forem tribes wrestled bears. Black bears, but they knew how tough the Humans were, and the bears sometimes trained on each other. Not just for the ego ofbears. If they managed to knock down all the challengers in the village, they were fed as much as they could eat.

Erribathe was a varied nation many knew little about. It had the dignity of its years, and the Kingdom of Myth was known as one of the Restful Three. It was a proud nation, proud of the legacy it had not lost.

Yetbetimes, even Nuvityn felt more like the Manoerhog than the King of Myths. It was hard to grow up in the Age of Waning, and he had lived two hundred and forty-one years.

As half-Elves did, really. Though his kingdom was more plentiful, the aspect that had kept him from madness was that Erribathe did keep away from the world.

Two hundred and forty-one years. Long enough to have remembered a time before Zelkyr. To have sent his forces to Izril in outragethen to Rhirand then to have fought off the Necromancer when he fell to his madness.

Better to live now rather than to wake up with the mists hanging foul and low and receive a summons. To hear an army by the hundreds of thousands was descending once more, led by that perverted Archmage of Death.

Not that the Necromancer had ever done more than hurl Ghouls into his lands by the thousand. That small act was enoughriding in the night, swinging his sword down upon glowing eyes preying upon his border-folk when he was nearing his two hundredth birthday had told him he was old.

For all he shared his lifespan with his consort, Queen Eithelenidrelit wore on him as much as the reverseaging faster, living among Humanswore on her.

Perhaps he would abdicate his throne and give Prince Iradoren his reign. The boy was naught but seventy years of age, for all he looked half-that. He had grown up twenty years among the old villages of half-Elves, so you had to subtract that from his age.

All of this would have left Nuvityn wanting, as he knew Iradoren wanted, to carve out a more fitting legacy for his time. To make Erribathe shine as it had done in days of old.

But those days were past. And Nuvityn had tried.

What people forgoteven the old ones like Feorwas that there was a time before Zelkyr. There was. And in those days, if he recalled his memories of a child correctly, used tonics to drift back to recall clearly, dictated his memoirs

They had said the same things they said now. The Antinium threat? New, yes, but overshadowed, perhaps, by the threat whispered in his fathers courts.

The Nagatine Empire rising. An age when Lizardfolk had threatened not only Izrilbut Chandrar and Baleros. The Blighted Kingdom, battling the Demons, had refused to fight across Baleros.

The Archmage of Baleros, then, the Archmage of Eyeswhat was his name?

Coloquex?

It sounded vaguely right. Now he had driven fear into the hearts of men. Then died. His forces had persisted thereafter for a long time, even with the Thousand Lances, the aggrieved forces of the Walled Cities, even the might of the Five Families and nations like Nerrhavias Fallen coming to arms.

WhyHellios, that conquered nation, had made itself known in that time. In that age, Nuvityn remembered Khelt had ignored the fighting steadfastly. Its king had not been asprovocative as now.

No one remembered it. Only half-Elves would listen when Nuvityn sat down and talk about it as if it were common knowledge while the Humans looked on blankly. Why, the threat of the Nagatine Empire had persisted since.

Their great temples. Their spells, which some had called profaneJungle Tails, that silly Great Company, had not been so laughable then.

Better the Forgotten Wing than them.

They had risen by dragging down the Lizardfolk in a bloody series of warsand Nuvityn himself had quietly pulled some strings from Erribathe. Not forces, but donations of gold to the young Titan.

Of coursethe fall of the Lizardfolk was more than just the Titan, for all he was the one most people would cite if they thought of it at all. There were other factors at play. Brave heroes of the generation after the fall of Coloquex. They had helped quash the last conspiracies to create empire.

Funny. Back then, the next generation must have thought they were marching and fighting across ancient history. Certainly, the figure who was now as legendary as the causes he had striven against had written it like that.

The Lightning Thief. Once, a dashing young man. Now, a figure of stories. He had stolen the Eye of Baleros, fought his way across a continentthen vanished into the pages of books.

Nuvityn had thought him dead. He could not steal age as easily as lightningbut perhaps not.

All these old things were coming to life again. All these names being spokenand older names still.

So that was why he padded through his palace in the dead of night, a magical light at his side. His guards held back, and now, the King of Myths rose and beheld something he took for granted.

Where is it? The Draconium compendia. Not here. Not here

He scanned various walls, growing frustrated until a delicate cough and a figure pointed him to the correct hallway. Embarrassed, annoyed, he followed the hints until he found it.

Then Nuvityn gazed upwards. Iradoren was not backhe was raring to go to Izril. They all were. But he had reported in, along with a number of his servants and minders, and the truth was clear.

How many nations now heard that word floating around in more than idle jest? Not just onebut one of the true ones. A name so old it made Nuvityns blood chill.

A name so old that the other nations were probably frantically sorting through books, hoping one had survived ten thousand years. Bothering old half-Elves who had lifespans of a thousand years at best.

While the truththe truth was upon his very walls. That was the age of the Kingdom of Myths. And so, Nuvityn shone up a light upon the walls.

It should have been a torch or some fickle lantern with a flame, waveringthis light was too pure, too constant. He should have felt a great breeze blow through his palace across marble shaped, so some claimed, by Elven hands.

But then, that was a lie, and he knew it had merely been half-Elves. Perhaps close enough in lineage to claim the Last Queen of Elves, Sprithae, had been within ten generations of thembut no more. And the palace had been rebuilt many times, anyways.

Even those ages were too old for Erribathe to record. Yet thisNuvityn looked up and sighed. For now he saw it.

Lists of enemies and allies. Some had been removedthis wall obsessively updated, until the last [Kings] realizedthere was less point. Now, it was simply art, and he remembered sitting here as a boy and begging his half-Elven tutor, Nenre, to tell him all the stories.

He wondered if she were still in her village. Perhaps he should summon her. ButNuvityn looked up. And he heard what the other rulers heard, though the wording changed:

Have you heard it? Do you believe?

I have seen him in Calanfers Eternal Throne. I have glimpsed the truth writ upon the wall, in wings that beat silently. I have listened to his voice.

Wake from your dreams of mortality. We are at the beginning of a new era. Once more, even now

There are still yet Dragons.

There they stood upon carved thrones that blazed with the elements. Like a kind of family treesitting above brave members of their species who had won their way onto mortal paint. Names of the most famous or infamous of their kind.

The Tyrant of Gems, Muzarre. The Silver Knight, Yderigrisel. The Wings of Life, Sasitoret.

Lesser Dragons. Lesser Dragonsyou understand? He could almost hear Nenre trying to explain it to him. Each one might be terrible and cunning, brilliant and heroic as you pleased.

But they were still lesser. They knelt to no [Kings]some gave their might to causes and nations, but they only listened to one anothers authority.

And that was them. The beings who sat upon those thronesnone dared call themselves King or Queen. Nevertheless, there they were. Or the last of them.

Their likenesses had changed, and Nuvityn thought it a crime that he did not see all the ones that had come before. But only the last Dragonlords remained. He had to remember this had once been a list, an actual resource of dread enemies that his Kingdom of Myth had fought against.

Armies garbed in relics to deny them a goal. Alliances between nations to bring one down. An individual, a single being capable of such devastation that they were nations unto themselves. So capricious and forceful that they requiredperhaps created[Heroes] and legends of old to match them among mortals.

He had long since memorized their names as a boy. So of course he knew one of them. Slowly, Nuvityn let the light shine across each oneand there had been countless Dragonlords. One for each weyruntil entire species of Dragons vanished.

They were all gone. Yet the lasthe knew names they said had still appeared in the last great calamity of this world.

The Creler Wars. Three Dragonlords had still flown then. Or rather, flown out of that hell. They had seen Dragons die, emerging to battle a common foe.

The Last Dragonlord of the Wind had fallen, they said. Aeitendeske. His light played over a Dragon with wings spread, eyes shining copper and viridian.

The Dragonlord of War was listed below the Dragonlords, apart. But Khetieve, the Dragonlord of Waves, still sat upon his throne, a trident gripped in one claw.

Did he live? Now, Nuvityn had questions. Were they enemies?

Were theyenemies? Iradoren had asked, because it was no longer clear. They were gone. Goneand even if there were a few, one, he had been in hiding. Was he still some great foe to vanquish or a bastion of knowledge that should be sheltered? Like a Unicornguarded such that such things should not vanish from the earth?

Nuvityn feltstronglythat it was the latter. But he had not lived those times.

Summon Nenre, my tutor of old. I must hear her tales of Dragons again.

They had done terrible things. And helike all the othersstared down at Nuvityn, and the king shivered like the boy who had gazed up at those eyes. Heliotrope and cerulean, gemstones set in the mural. Next to the last Dragonlord of the Void, Xarkouth, head turned as if to address the Dragonlord of Sanctums, the Silver Dragonlord

Teriarch. Dragonlord of Flame.

So old. So old, even by their standards. Dragonward of the Iltantian Empire. Wyrmbanea title to one who had slain or aided in the death of a Greater Wyrm. Traitor of the Dragonfall Wars, when Walled Cities revolted and their hold in Chandrar was broken.

He had stolen into Calanfers throne, bested the Winters Watcher and a member of the Thousand Lances, revealed the Lightning Thief might liveand made a challenge to the kingdoms of Terandria.

What might such a creature want? Some great war that even he feared? So he hintedhinted that it might be Rhir that needed to be scourged ere another Creler War began.

All of it made Nuvityn wish he had come two hundred years back! Then a younger man would have had the will to ride out to Izril hell-for-leather. Nownow, Nuvityns heart beat as he imagined it.

The Dragon had come to Calanfer and set kingdoms scrambling in a day. What might he be doing now? A being of his might, roaming the world? What deeds, what goals had he?

The Dragon stared down at Nuvityn as the [King of Men], King of Myths, Manoerhog, felt his kingdoms long silence and inaction had come to an end. It was painful. And glorious.

Now you knew the weight upon him, the legacy that remained in places like Erribathe, and his legacythere were things so old that even Teriarch, Terrium Archelis Dorishe, called old. Things he had heard in legendsand now knew to set himself against.

Older than most magics. Capable of casting spells thought dead, in languages that truly were dead, keeper of relics that predated the Walled Cities.

Dragonlord of Flame. Feared by his name. Enemy to old powers, laden with a duty that had called him from beyond death.

Forgive him as he slept. Curled upon his hoard, eyes tightly shut.

Sleeping. Sleeping, three months after hed woken. And it had been about nineteen days of pure slumber. Or perhaps forty-nine.

He kept turning off the spell that was meant to wake him up. He couldnt remember how many times he reset it.

How could you relate to a Dragon? Perhaps in thishe lay there, not quite asleep. Not quite awake. Waking up, hearing the persistent shrill of magic telling him to riseand turning it off.

Again and again.

It was not restful oblivion. It was more a denial of waking. Because his conscious and unconscious minds both knew that he had a monumental task before him. He knew every passing second he wasted he would have to struggle more.

Yet he slept. He slept, putting off his efforts a moment longer. Because he was tired. Bone-weary, with something more than mere exhaustion. Though there was that too.

His wings still hurt. His body ached and though much of that was age, more came from his wounds of old. Not just recent events.

They weighed him down, and he would rather he slept. Because when he tried to rise, he felt a kind of mortal horror stealing over him. And it echoed days as he slept. Echoed and echoed

What have I done?

Three months. Three months since Erin Solstice woke, and the Brass Dragon had no idea what had happened in the world. He knew what he had done.

Oh yes.

It haunted him, for all he had found the moment itself nostalgic. For all he had burned with passion as he dared the petty rulers of Terandria to think beyond their shores, to come to Izril, to rise

He had conceived a horror after that. And it had driven him to this cave after he had done the rest of what he could in the world.

For Teriarch now dreamed of memories. He imaginedhe sawarmies scorching their way across another nations lands. Slaughterwar

He had sworn not to. Sworn to

Who? To Sheta? No. Too far back. For the last Queen of Harpies, he had waged strife against his own kind.

To someone else. Many someone elses. He recalledsitting in this very cave, perhaps. Telling someone he would not. He

Didnt remember. The memories had been taken from him. Severed by his own mistakes. It didnt matter. The content was the same.

I shall not begin it again. I shall not take a side and burn the other to ash. I shall not see their blood dripping from my wings and fangs.

Not again. He had promised. And then broken that promise.

And done it once more. He had just invited a continent to battle for a new land. What had he done?

What he had to do. What he had to do, to arm them in levels. To reclaim older eras. He knew it, but there was such bile in his stomach at the thought he could have breathed that instead of fire.

Dreaming, the Dragon shuddered. And he backed away from waking up, as if he were holding himself asleep.

For he feared what hed do when he rose.

They should have picked someone else.

The Dragon was not really asleep. He was in that stage where you drifted offwoke upfound yourself sitting and staring at a wall before falling back into your pillow. Or in his case, a shower of coins.

For a Brass Dragon, metals were just a kind of resting place. They could actually lounge on a sea of coinsother Dragons tried it and got them jammed in crevices and back-aches.

Get up. He knew hed do it eventually. The Dragon snorted a bit of flame, and the gold melted. Hed

Rise. Rise and fulfill your duties as you swore! Rise and

His voice jolted him awake. Teriarch turned off the alarm. Another day? He groaned. Then his head lolled b

Rise. Rise and f

They should have chosen someone else. They should have chosen his daughter. No. Not her. Not them. Not this burden, but not him either. Take Yderigriselno, not him. Take Muzno. Take

Take someone else. The First Dragonlord of Gems, Saracandre, had the wisdom to do this. The will and might, imperious as she had been when she lectured a little hatchling about manners. Hed just been climbing on a giant emerald. Anyone would do it.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Make a notetomorrow. Definitely tomorrow.

But the Dragon drifted offand when his two alarms blared, he turned both off and reset both. He did not want to do this. His wings hurt. His heart hurt. He could dimly feel that it was changing seasons. Fall was running out, and he wondered if it would snow. Then remembered why it should not and groaned under the weight of fear and trepidation.

He had to fight them! But choose which sides? Arm which forces? Dotoo much. He knew hed get up eventually. So couldnt he rest another day? Another week? Another month? He knew hed get up and

He had done too much already.

Then.

That haughty Wyrm. Rhisveri Zessoprical. Teriarch flew from Ailendamus after a week of negotiations.

A week of camping out like a savage in a forest, wiping mud off his scales and trying to present himself in full dignity with the pettiest Wyrm in the entire worldand thus merely average when it came to his damn species.

The last Wyrm. Teriarch tried to remember thatbut it was hard. The boy was haughty.

Take the Dragonthrone.

No.

The entire week-long argument could be best summarized in those two sentences. Oh, there was more nuance to it.

Delicately prying into the Lucifen and Agelums new, strange alliance. Finding out to his disbelief that the Infernal Court was no morethat a Goblin King had done what the Demons could nottreating with the other immortals, all of that had been fine.

He had persuaded almost all of them that the Dragonthrone would be a suitable gifta peace-offering for Ailendamus ambitions. But Rhisveri, the Wyrm, refused to take it.

Most of Teriarchs discussions had truly been assuring them he had not come to rule, nor join, nor threaten the immortal cabal of Ailendamus. Some had taken him at his word.

Maybe one group had taken him at his word, and that was the Merfolk who remembered their own Dragonlord protector. Even the Agelum had been suspicious.

Fair. Fair. He, for himself, had been glad to meet them. Even Lady Paterghost.

I fear you not, Dragonlord. For I am Lady Paterghost of Taimaguros undivided, inhabited by my sworn protector and companion, Nube!

The Mimic hiding inside the suit of armor shook so hard Paterghost had to hold still as she tried to face and sneer Teriarch down. Which took some doing, because the Brass Dragon was a hill compared to her. And she had no face.

The enchanted suit of armor recoiled slightly as Teriarch lifted a wing, but he merely saluted her with it.

The will of Taima and Guros unite behind you, Lady Paterghost. May I inquire as to your exact station?

Then she hesitated.

Iam a Lady by right of my extended service to the crown! For a thousand years, I have served the halls of the palace, and my own lineage can hardly be doubted, nor service to the crown.

Ah. Then you are royally appointed to the title?

Nnot as such.

Then he realized she might not be as noble as she claimed. Or that Taimaguros wouldnt have been exactly keen to have an animated suit of armor clanking around greeting [Princesses] like some maternal protector.

But thenspontaneous life like hers was extraordinary. Anyone could make a suit of enchanted armor. Teriarch could probably animate some chainmail in a [Blacksmith]s shop in a second.

That wasnt the same as a being with will. Drathians believed in the power of statues, items, to come to life with affection and time. But it was exceedingly rare for someone like Paterghost to exist.

She must have been in the presence of something highly, highly magical, and her armor might have belonged to someone beloved. That she was immortal was fairly unquestionable. If she maintained her armor, shed live for as long as metallurgy endured.

Nube was the more interesting one. It must have been some greater form of Mimic, and Teriarch was reminded of the unpleasant thing that sometimes bothered him in his cavebut this one was more traditional, an inhabitant of items.

It was also, he suspected, more than half the reason why Paterghost was dangerous. She might be fairly adept by herselfwith her unique frame and Nubes power, they were probably skilled enough to down all but a Named-rank adventurer in this age with ease.

How to deal with someone like her? Ah, of course. Soothe the ego. The Dragon spoke quickly and eloquently, flicking his wings as if they were a-court and gossiping in parlance.

Ah, then you must be claiming peerage under the aegis of the Rigor du Servis, an old form of establishment under the Hundred Familys Havingtel reign. I recall that they merely required three hundred years of citizenship in a knightly capacity for de facto entry into the noble halls.

Bastards. Three hundred years of combined military service as a [Knight]? A lot of deaths to be called the barest low-level nobility.

She was completely ineligible, but Paterghost instantly brightened up.

Yes. Exactly. Did you say Rigor du Servis?

I believe the texts may be extant. I salute you, then, Lady Paterghost of Taimaguros. May we converse as equals?

She puffed up so much he feared her chestplate would explode. But then, Teriarch had always been good at statecraft and the art of diplo ento umbris.

Bullshit diplomacy. All you had to do was know enough old customs, and one inevitably fit a situation.

That had been pleasant. Meeting young immortals? Almost painful. The fierce little Royal Griffon, an actual Titan and hearing how he had been foundpinned by a boulder his mother had placed on him, probably to save him until he was large enough to survive

The things they had done and lived through to get here in this era. And Rhisveri sheltered them.

It was hard to reconcile with that strutting Sariant Lamb peacock of a Wyrm, all arrogance and hints that Ailendamus could wipe out any forces Teriarch could bring to bear. Perhaps he was better than Teriarch thought

Rather paunchier than your illustrations, I must say. I took a look at Sophridels references, and my oh my, you must have spent a fortune on bribing [Artists] of your time.

Nevermind. Teriarch had resisted the urge to flame the insolent Greater Wyrm multiple times in their discussions.

They werent even good insults. But thenthe Wyrm was furious. A Scroll of Resurrection that Teriarch would have fought for had been plundered.

An actual relic. An actual legendary object. How did one survive this long? Why did no onewell, if Wyrms had it, it made sense.

He had every right to be wrathful, especially since that young womanRyoka Someonehad killed the last Dryad.

The last Dryad. Oh! Teriarch wept silently. But he had more to do, and if he could not make allies with Ailendamus, stemming the hatred of Rhisveri somewhat would do.

Thereafter, he had flown to Calanfer and skulked around, collecting news, setting up his grand entrance. It had even been funif exasperating

Until it was done. Until he was perched outside of the palace, listening in and hearing all the excited talk and he realized he might have begun a war.

Then he heard his name being whispered to the leaders of other nations, and he felt a wave ofof

Panic run through him. He could not deny it. They knew he lived.

They would come for him. Again and again, until he faked his death and hid. [Heroes] and adventurers and people begging his help. Young women. Girls and

He did not want this. He did not, but he had to impel them to move. So he had done what he could, moved all the levers. But the truth was that even now, he was ashamed to admit it after his speech to them.

The Dragonward Bells shall ring. One last time.

A grand boast but he

He did not want to die.

He had already died once! Why did he fear it? The Dragon was weary of his fear, weary of it allso after a few more efforts, he had flown back to Izril.

Okay, hed teleported. And been so weary from his fighting with Rhisveri, all the magic and travel hed been up tohed spent weeks in the sun and under the stars. Hed been so exhausted he dragged himself into his cave and slept a good damn month.

Thenstayed abed for the next two. In grief. In guilt. In denial of his duties.

Blame him not.

Please.

He wept, even dreamingtears at the corner of those unique eyes. For what he had done.

For what he was too weak to do.

Two and a half months ago.

Archmage Eldavin had great plans for the future. Great plans.

He was upset about the Earthers being stolen, though. Even with all he knew, even with Wistrams might, there were things that could not be easily replaced.

Earths knowledge was one such thing. He had confronted one of the architects of this disaster. But Aaron Vanwell hadnt even flinched much before Eldavins wrath.

He had been smiling that evening.

Smiling and as light as a feather, as if a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. The young [Mage] had raised his hands as Eldavin interrogated him.

Archmage Eldavineveryone in Wistram said we werent prisoners. Only that you were keeping Elena and everyone for our own safety. Thats what the Drakes and the Drowned Folk said. And they insisted. Its not our fault. We cant fight Gazi, right?

Sourly, the Archmage had conceded it was hard to see a moment where refusing Archmage Amerys or the other high-level [Mages] would have been easy. However

Recovering them would not be an easy task. Even if he wanted to. Doroumata was one thing. Hed hinted to her she should grab some of the incoming Earthers off the ships.

Instead, shed grabbed all the Earthers she could and helped Trey Atwood escape. Thatthat young man had hurt most of all.

The King of Destruction over me. What does he have? Troyno, Treys sister? Then Reim firstAzkerashthe damned new lands, and

He had a headache. A mortal frailty, which he disliked along with his aching shoulders. A backrub from one of his companions had sorted that outbut he was still growing used to

To not being a Dragon. It felt odd, because Eldavin had never felt like onebut now he knew he was not.

A half-Elf with the knowledge of a Dragon and a handful of levels. He had a long way to go to reclaim his power. Even without knowing who he had been

I shall be better. I have Terras as a faction, and they are skillful, even the ones who have been sloths all their lives like Telim. Form a base of power and work up. I have allies.

He had duties, too. Which Eldavin did not like. But he had to admithe felt young. If he had ever been old, really. As a simulacrum, he was technically less than a year old.

But he just had to figure out a spell to reverse age. Hed heard there was some [Chronomancer] in Rhirthe techniques existed. If he had not seen fit to give himself anti-aging spells, Eldavin well knew that there was alchemy and other ways to get to the same goal.

He had more knowledge than Wistram had ever lost in his head. Eldavin could see himself arming Wistram to the point where it could take care of a lot of his tasks without his direct control or more than guidance. Which left him placed to

To enjoy this world. Food! He didnt remember eating a lot of it, so it was fresh. Food, youthactivities such as chess.

And yes, companionship. He felt, now, a bit silly. Eldavins, uhindecorousness when it came to female attention had come to haunt him slightly.

In that it seemed like every faction of Wistram had at least one female [Mage] who wanted to take personal lessons from him. No, wait. Personal lessons.

He disliked that. He wanted a genuine connection based on more than physical attraction. But those things took timedidnt they?

The half-Elf put a hand to his head as he moodily walked around his grand suite of rooms allotted to him. He hated that feeling of half-knowing a lesson or something. How did onedate at this age and authority?

Perhaps that app on Ryokas phone. No. No, I am not going to invent that. Television, radio, yes. Not something for personal gain.

He folded his arms and faced one of the walls where Feor had donated an image of a picturesque half-Elven village. Eldavin stared at the wonderful landscape and amended his thoughts.

Besides, it would be easier to attend a ball or two. Meet people in real settings. I wonder. Terandria, Izril, Baleros, Chandrar, all have social functions. Isnt there an invitation from that Empire of Sands?

A rising power or so he was informed. And he had better start meeting and charming all the other nations, not just Terandria. Eldavin was hunting around for a pile of letters when he heard the knock on his window.

His windows were enchanted, so it was probably a hell of a knock. But it sounded faintand Eldavin turned and sighed.

Oh, for the love of aphrodisiacs. This has gone too far. Excuse meno. No.

He crossed his arms, then realized the person throwing stones couldnt hear him and tugged in his beard in vexation. But she kept beckoning, and he went to the doors leading to his balcony.

The aforementioned attempts to get on Eldavins good side through his lower side? They resulted in some odd meetings. A young lady deciding to swim with him. A student after one of his lectures asking him to clarify an issue.

A Stitch-Woman leaving a hand on his doorknob. That was original. Stitch-Folk flirted in interesting ways. Eldavin should have made it clearhe should have mastered his baser desires.

Otherwise, you got things like the very charming, very attractiveand very naked Drake woman floating outside his balcony.

She was clothed in a rather transparent film of what was either a robe, bedding, or shower curtainwhich could not fulfill all three roles in any meaningful way. She had some rather magnificent

Er

Scales. Lovely turquoise. And her wings were flexing in such a magnificent way as she hovered therewas she flying with her wings or using [Levitation]?

Maybe the spell hed taught Telim had already gone around? Or she was one of the talented [Mages] who kept their heads down instead of being Archmages, like Galei.

Wait, was this Galei? If it was, Eldavin couldnt see through the illusion, and hed have something to say to the Ullsinoi faction. Eldavin opened the windows.

Young woman, someone is going to look up, and I shall not be the one to explain this to the Council.

She laughed and flew back a pace.

Archmage, can I have but a moment of your time?

Please, this is hardly the method.

But it is working. Come, please. You can surely meet me for a moment.

Eldavin looked around to make sure no one had opened a windowbut he saw illusion magic blocking most views of this area of Wistram.

Plus, it was past midnight. The half-Elf huffed, but decided there was no help for it. He hurriedly cast a spell and strode out across a bridge of light. The Drake woman flew backwards.

Young woman. Please.

She wanted to fly out across the beautiful bubble of calm surrounding Wistram. Eldavin strode after her, conjuring a breeze to blow her backand she lost the robes. He closed his eyesand created a robe of cotton to hand her.

Lets speak civilly.

Oh, fine.

She stopped, puffing her cheeks out, and drifted back to Eldavin. He approached her and then noticed something odd. The moon was clear, and she was veryvividlynaked. He could see a lot he probably shouldnt be seeing. His clear view did not uh, lead to clear judgment. But what he saw on the rocks surrounding Wistram was that she had no shad

Whumph.

The sound of the invisible Dragon exhaling Dragonfire wasnt the actual roar of flames, but the sound the air made as it was displaced.

Hed forgotten to muffle it. Damn. Teriarch had also forgotten the shadow of the naked Drake. It worked, though.

In his experience, even the canniest Archmage sometimes fell for the old naked, amorous illusion trick. Dragons, Selphids, Dwarvesit got them all.

Men and women, thank you. Though he had to own, female Archmages sometimes didnt appreciate a naked fellow, no matter how splendidly done, posing behind a decorative cloud. You got them by organizing a group of young, fit [Mages] wrestling on the sand or in the water. Then, while they were peering out from behind their enchantments

Dragonfire.

It was a concentrated stream, a barrier-shredding flame. It should have killed the simulacrum fast.

Unfortunately, it caught the half-Elf calling himself Eldavin, one of Teriarchs pseudonyms, mid-teleport. He had noticed the shadow.

The scream of agony was still there, though, as Teriarch flew up, cursing. He had hoped for a clean kill.

Wistram had enough magics to do damage, even if they were crippled! He was watching for Golems as he flew upand the balcony doors were open.

Rookie mistake. The Dragon punched a claw through the open doors and hurled the smoldering figure within out. Then he followed it.

Take the fight outside Wistrams bubble as fast as you can. Theyd detect grand spells. Teriarch flew past the bubble and then unleashed.

Activate!

Bolts of lightning criss-crossed the air. They hit the sea, creating geysers of water, struck away from desperate barriersbut when they found Archmage Eldavin, they anchored his position.Rread latest chapters at novelhall.com

Disintegration. Eight beams shot at the simulacrumcurving as he tried to fly.

Was that[Wings of the Phoenix]? He dove, corkscrewing, then did a minor teleport when he saw the beams twisting. Teriarchs mind was flashing as he chanted more spells, and he realized something. Several things.

He flies like me.

Of coursehe was him. But it was disconcerting. Teriarch had never fought

The second thing was that the simulacrum wasnt dying. Of course not. Hed made it to regenerate wounds, to endure terrible damage. It was regenerating off its mana supply.

Make something too well and it turns on you. Golems. You fool!

ncy Teleport]!

Hed just tried to use [Emergency Teleport]. Probably to safety. But the teleportation spells were locked down even if you could teleport to Wistram. Teriarch whispered as he saw the figure burning the beams of tracking disintegration out of the way.

He knew how to do ityou had to throw matter in front of disintegration spells until they ran out of power, so Eldavin just conjured walls of falling stone and rocks to eat the spellthen dove into the waters.

It wouldnt stop this.

Gaze of the Medusa.

Teriarchs eyes burnedthen the water, the fleeing half-Elfeven the sleeting rain turned to stone.

Stone droplets shattered as a wedge of the ocean began to petrify. The half-Elf might not die of itbut he slowed. And Teriarch exhaled again.

This time, it was a ball of flameslike a [Fireball] but accelerated. He gasped for air as it burned a hole through stonethe waterand hopefully the Archmage himself.

He flies like me. He knows my tactics. Of course he did. Teriarch had given his other self all the memories of combat and magic he thought it neededeven vital memories for the short-term.

He had never thought this would happen. Now, he was correcting his mistake. Archmage or not. Part of him or notit had to die.

Eldavin had to go. He had done far too much damage unknowingly. Did he scream something as he saw the ball of fire coming at him? Teriarch watched

And the ball of fire winked out. The Dragonlord of Flames eyes widened. He hadnt seensomething that eats Dragonfire? Even the Necromancer couldnt do

Stop!

The Archmage of Memory rose. He was burnt beyond belief, but to Teriarchs incredulity, he was healing. Then the Dragon realized his mistake.

The simulacrum could use potions! It had used a healing potion, and despite the Dragonfireno, the first blast had charred him to his bones.

But what had stopped the second one? Eldavin rose as Teriarch began casting subvocally. Then Teriarch observed the final thing.

[Pentagram of the Five Alchemies]

He was using magic like a [Mage]. Magic of boxes. Magic unlike a Dragon. Teriarch spoke at the same time as Eldavin and got a nasty shock.

Worlds End Permafrost.

A wave of cold that froze the sea deeper than even the Medusas Gaze spell blasted out. But it met a glowing five-sided pentagram, and Teriarch watched the spell being sucked into one of the five quadrants.

His alchemy magic! The Brass Dragons eyes widened. But how had the spell come out that fast? He knew how complicated it was. It was almost as if

Then he saw it, and his heart skipped a beat. In pure disbelief. He saw the half-Elf chanting, lips moving soundlesslyand something burned over his head. An active Skill.

[Rapid Casting].

He had Skills?

Impos

The Dragon almost said the word, then caught himself. He shot forwards, flying upon jet-flames, and bit.

The move caught Eldavin off-guard. He tried to shield himselfgrabbing the teeth as they descended in a flash. The Dragon felt the incredible strength and realized Eldavin must have cast [Diamond Body] on himself and strength spells.

Exactly what hed do. The two fired at the same time.

[Wave of Seething Acid]!

Teriarch exhaled. Then gagged, dove, exhaling the burning spell. Damn! It was only Tier 6 and weak, but it was in his mouth. Idiot

When he emerged from the sea, he expected to see the Archmage in agony if he were alive. But he saw the final thing that made the Dragon freeze and his heart pound in fear.

He had expected to kill himselfhoped to do it first. He had wondered if Eldavin would see him coming. That he had notthat he had survived this and the first Dragonbreath attack was just chance.

But the other two?

Violet flames were trying to burn away the Archmage of Memory. They had the same intensity that could make magma look like lukewarm bathwater. They could burn in the vacuum of space.

A Dragonlords fire. Yet the half-Elf held it an inch from his skin, and not via a spell. His handswhat was he doing?

They were pressed together. Clasped, and Eldavin was whispering. The words made Teriarchs head hurt. It sounded like something impossible.

A prayer. Then Teriarch tried to read the classthe Skilland he saw nothing. Then he feared.

The Miracle had saved him twice. Eldavins skin was burning, but he whispered. His second class had saved him where magic could not.

He was trying to kill himself! Teriarchof course, he didnt realize. Eldavin? Teriarch? It was confusing, but the half-Elf knew he had to survive this. To retreat to Wistram. But the only thing that could stop the Dragons advanced magic, mana pool, and innate abilities was this.

[Divine Protection]. The [Believer of the Old Faith] held out his hands and shoved the fire away. Then he lowered his arms, panting.

Something was drained out of him. Not mana butbelief. Yet he had a reservoir of it. After allhe knew who he was believing in.

He knew they were real.

Did the Dragon say impossible? Or did he just think it? Eldavin thought he could read the thoughts behind those two brilliant eyes.

Teriarch was in the sea now, staring up through the waters like some great fish. Gracefulpoised to strike or move.

And worn out. Heavier than he should be. Slower, too. No one would realize it on first sight, but the Dragon was old. Eldavin, thoughhe knew.

The [Pentagram of the Five Alchemies] was burning behind him, empowered by one of the Dragons spells. Eldavin held it back a second, though, and spoke. The first words hed been able to get out in the lightning-fast skirmish.

Wait. Teriarch. Myself. Were not enemies.

The Dragon flinched at that word. He looked upas if pondering what to sayand then stuck his mouth out of the water.

I hoped to make this quick. Eldavin. You are me. A part of me that should not be. You know, if you are methat we should not walk this world. I know what you must feellower your arms. I will take your memories after destroying you. I can promise no more than a swift death. But you know it must be done.

Eldavin stared down. Incredulously. His first instinctno, that was why the Dragon had ambushed him. But he called back down, rasping between healing lips.

I want to live. Justjust fly back. Or let us converse. Civilly! Are you so willing to destroy new life? Part of yourself?

Some things should not be done. Of all beings, I can judge myself most harshly. Youlook what you have done so far. Made war? Gathered power to yourself like a petty dictator? This is not what Iwe would do in control of our faculties.

That stung. Eldavin spread his arms. He conjured two balls of light and hurled them downto illuminate the two.

And hiding in that cave was better? Ryoka Griffin impelled us to action by reason, fool. Or have you forgotten her? Did you forget Magnolia? Our oaths? Havent you seen how the world is in need?

Not of this. Nor for you to make war on Ailendamus so and give children weapons of war. Other meEldavin. What power did you invoke to save yourself just now?

Teriarchs eyes were focused on him like beams of powerbut trepidation lurked there too. So he didnt know?

Shall we speak of it? If you swear, I shall tell you what I can. We are not enemies.

By whom shall I swear?

The first name that came to mind was one he thought of too much. Eldavin whispered.

Shetas honor. Noswear by Nirayicel.

Teriarch flinched at that. How had he come back to life? Eldavin swore he had felt himself die. NoRyoka must have done something. But had he?

Eldavin was shaking. He longed to reach out and talkfranklybut he was guarded. Until Teriarch dipped his head.

By Nirayicel and Shetas honor, then. I swear.

Those were the only two that Eldavin knewbut he knew how much they mattered. So Eldavin slowly descended, and the Dragon rose.

The Lucifen were so damn touchy. Visophecin was unto a kind of spymaster, and his understanding of world events eclipsed even Rhisveris own. The Wyrm nodded. Then gave up.

He conjured his fake body, and Duke Rhisveri felt the weight of the tired Wyrms body vanish from him. He rolled his shoulders, then stepped away with Visophecin.

I merely exerted myself unduly. I need to hone my reflexes. I will admit, the Dragonlord had some impressive tricks. But I, myself, just need to improve my technique. He was out of shape. Slow. I am in my prime.

Visophecin eyed the Wyrm. Wasnt he over eleven thousand years old?

For once, the pointed look was something Rhisveri chose to ignore rather than counter with any stare of his own.

If you are so exhausted, Rhisveri, perhaps reconsider yourposturing.

Me? Posturing? Dont be ridiculous. Im just proving a point. Youre the one whos taking Rythat Thiefs suggestions so literally. Overhauling our judicial courts while Wellfar has fleets harassing ours at sea? While we have war on our border with Pheislant?

Viscount Visophecin didnt rise to the bait. Both of them knew that judicial and military matters wouldnt entangle the other. Plus, the Lucifen moving out of their role as judges freed them up for other tasks. Rhisveri just disliked the person whom the idea had come from.

I am simplyrising to the occasion.

Then should I have the event broadcast?

Here was the thing about a Wyrm and Lucifen. Ryoka might see two comparable beings of great power working together, and Visophecin was often the cold calculus to Rhisveris initiative, a good match sometimes.

But without her to make them show off, they did sometimes snipe at each other. In this case, Visophecins face was straight, but he was calling Rhisveris bluff.

The Wyrm didnt sweat. But he did nearly miss a step.

Whywhy not? I doubt we can convene Wistram News Network, but have it on our local television broadcast. It will be a demonstration of our abundant talents even if its only the Duke, rather than Itorin himself.

Im sure it shall be a sight even my fair cousins will be inordinately stunned by. I shall have all of House Shoel watching. And recording your moment.

Noyou neednt, erits a simple task. Barely worth televising, really.

Suddenly, Rhisveri felt oddly nervous. Which was stupid. But Visophecin was smiling. He never smiled. The Lucifen gave him a full Avelian salutation, the most ostentatious bow you could give.

For you, Rhisveri, I shall have it ready in an hour.

So soonwas it an hour? Are the chI could reschedule.

The children will be ready. Perhaps His Majesty, Fetohep himself, may even watch the broadcast. I shall reach out to Wistram News Network as best I can.

Idoubt we should trouble them. Where?

The Solar Classrooms, I believe. Princess Oesca shall be in attendance along with the commonfolk children and nobility. A group of sixty.

Sixty?

I believe you said, and I quote, if this Fetohep can entertain one, I can entertain sixty. We have cleared the classrooms of all props and the usual toys and books. I leave it to you to decorate ahead of your arrival infifty-six minutes. Excuse me. I must hurry to get the scrying spells in place.

Then the Lucifen was striding off. And Rhisveri opened and closed his mouth and wondered if hed bitten off more than he could chew.

Fifty-sixfifty-five minutes. Solar Classrooms. Right. Rhisveri began to walk through the corridors of the palace at a sedate pace. Thenwhen he was certain Visophecin was gonehe began running. He only stopped when the Lucifen stepped out from behind one of the pillars and asked if anything was wrong.

Visophecin smirked.

What was going on here? Wellwell, lets just think of current trends. Newsworthy broadcasts.

As in, Fetohep of Khelts rather pompous showboating to the world. Splendidly done. That magnificent shiny dress, his shows of his richnessand his proof of good rulership, such as being able to walk through a city without seeing the ailments of poverty, hunger, and so on.

Hed already publicly embarrassed a number of cities and nations with his impromptu checks. And he was so popular apparently Wistram was discussing having a separate channel dedicated exclusively to him.

None of that bothered Rhisveri, of course. His nation would have passed any of Fetoheps requirements with flying colors. Which was doubtless why it hadnt been showcased.

In fact, people didnt speak about Ailendamus enough. It was practically a paradise, a technological leader, and far, far larger than puny Khelt. Which meant that Rhisveri was that perfect ruler.

He had just the way to prove it, too. A number of rulers, from [Lords] to the King of Avel, had taken up one of Fetoheps challenges tohilarious results.

That beingentertain a child or children for eighteen minutes, or an hour, using only your own personal talents. It had attracted record viewers on Drassis channel, and shed even split coverage with Sir Relz and Noass because of how popular the recordings were.

Mostly becausethey were live. And they ranged from everything like seeing a [Lord] trying to impress a bunch of frightened children and shoutingto the King of Avel shooting his famous bow past a group of children and then leaping for cover when one aimed the bow at him.

And the King of Avel had been one of the more successful clips. The funniest ones were when the [Lords] got nervous. There was a now-famous image of one of Chandrars [Emirs] hiding behind a curtain after getting stage-fright from an uppity little Stitch-Girl.

Of course, some [Lords] proved they could do it and thus won a great deal of popularity. For instancethe rising star of Izril. The now-famous name of that great [Lord] had been doing the rounds on the broadcasts last night.

The [Lord of Love and Wine], Lord Pellmia, did a forty-five minute broadcast where he demonstrated how wine was made, everything from the picking of grapes with an enthusiastic bunch of children to squishing them in a messybut laughing group.

A nearly flawless demonstration of natural charm and understanding of children. The grape-treading was horrifically gross to some species who hadnt realized that was how you made grape juice and wine. Like Dullahans.

But Lord Pellmia, juggling peaches while he danced about with the children in the grape press, had probably doubled House Quellaes usual sales for the month in a day.

As Fetohep would remark, there stands a [Lord] well aware of both the business of his lands, the nature of his people, and his own talents. A threefold man, where most of these half-wits are equally half-men at best. 8/10.

It had everything for the modern viewer. Funny antics. Powerful people embarrassing themselves in real situations. And a snarky and critical host in Fetohep.

Naturally, Ailendamus had considered doing the same. But King Itorin wasnt the most interested, perhaps wisely seeing how other rulers had fared.

It wasnt even natural charisma you neededyou had to be good with kids. Not necessarily a skill other rulers had. Some, like King Itreimedes of Avel, had the ego to drag everyone around with him to mixed results.

Others, like the Sleeping Queen, Geilouna, were canny enough to invite children for a sleep-over where they could eat snacks on beds, gossip with her, and pet her menagerie of animals.

She still got a 5/10.

Rhisveri, thoughRhisveri had told Visophecin to arrange a trial of his own. Not that he answered to Fetohep!

He had been alive when King His-Xe had been causing trouble! Well, born in that time. Yes, Khelt might be a bit older than he was. But Fetohep was a gnat of a ruler. Rhisveri was justproving to outside viewers he could do anything the King of Khelt thought was admirable.

The Wyrm was a master of all abilities after all. He could fight in multiple bodies, cast magic, and he was a renaissance man of countless talents.

Entertaining children? H-how hard could it be? Especially with Visophecin broadcasting it, damn him.

He wouldnt get Wistram News Network here on such short notice. All Rhisveri had to do was get some props. And, uhsixty?

What kind of an activity involved sixty children? Wait, how old were they? They were Oescas age, right?

It occurred to Rhisveri, forty-eight minutes later when he peeked behind the curtains, that maybe Visophecin was holding a grudge for something.

Not telling him about the Scroll of Resurrection? Or refusing the Dragonthrone? Or exiling Ryoka until she found a Dryad?

There could be any number of reasons. It occurred to Rhisveri that, given the extensive scrying orbs ready to record the roomthat Visophecin might have manipulated him into allowing the recordings.

They were already in the palace and setting up when he approached me. Ill melt that devilish bastard.A credit to his entire species.

The last thing Rhisveri hadnt considered was this: Princess Oesca was here, and she was a bright, capable young woman. Young, yes, but nine years old. Capable of stringing together a sentence without drooling much. Able to wipe her nose.

She wasthe oldest child in this room by far. Visophecin had intimated she would be the average age. But in truth, the children were three to seven at best.

You bastard. He was here, in person, with half the Lucifen in the palace watching with their faces perfectly straight in the background. Rhisveri was staring in horror at sixty children, some of whom were already cryingand his props?

The broadcast was being televised via Wistram News Network and on Ailendamus local channels. King Itorin II, when he had heard of it, had cleared his schedule for the day.

Something after his talks with Ryoka had told him that it would add years to his lifespan if he watchedand he was not wrong.

It started as gloriously as Itorin could hope. After the introduction, through which some of the children had begun asking wheres the snacks, Rhisveri appeared behind a royal purple curtain. He had a number of servants helping himand his own impressive magics, which levitated his props into the room.

I am Duke Rhisveri of Ailendamus. Brother to King Itorin II, who has come to entertain you all. I trust we shall enjoy ourselves so immensely we are without recourse but to laugh with delight.

He entered with his head held high and his voice ringing. Two children instantly tried to hide between Oesca. She was the only one who clappedand the clapping petered out very quickly.

I believe I shall have some Quellae wine. And snacks.

Was he smiling? Itorin II, who had been taking tonics just in case his hairline receded further than it already hadalmost felt like the hair follicles were regrowing in real-time. And it got better. When the Duke paused and swallowed, he did rally. The first time.

Ive preparedan object lesson in fine baking. Which we shall all attend. Lets mix up some of Ailendamus finefinecuisines

He looked around at the children, which he had definitely assumed to be Oescas age. In other wordscapable of rudimentary cooking. The servants placing bowls in front of the children watched as the first toddler promptly opened a bag, knocked over all the flour in a poof that caused a dozen more to sneezeand another stuck an entire dirty hand into the pot of butter.

Iassumed your collective ages would be older. But fear not! I have also prepared wands for you to

One of the [Head Servants], possibly a nursemaid, actually grabbed Rhisveri in the bravest act of any of the staff and told himin whispers that Itorin could practically hearthat you did not give pointy wands capable of casting dangerous magic to children. Especially children who put things into their mouths.

Rhisveris face mottledthen went white. The room was dead silent now as the guests not aware of what this would be coughed or tried not to look at him.

II have musical instruments next. A dulcimer.

He was copying Fetohep! Itorin IIs ribs hurt. His wife was giving him a look of deep concern, but he wiped tears out of his eyes. He had to see. He had to

All ten of the Lucifen began applauding wildly as Rhisveri was handed the dulcimer. The rest of the room, [Mages] and camera-people included, applauded, and the children did too. Ahead of the music. Rhisveri gave Visophecin a look of pure hatred.

House Shoel were pure evil. When Rhisveri began playingoh, it was glorious. Itorin II began hiccuping.

He was playing classical high-brow music. The kind that required quiet seating, the right company and moodand probably more wineto appreciate.

The children listened for about twenty seconds before one began speaking.

Isis thiswhy is the scary man here? Wheres Teacher Minni? Wheres the toys?

Wheres the toys?

They were getting upset, and several began cryingassuming that Rhisveri had taken away the plentiful toys and objects that adorned the Solar Classrooms. Oesca made it worse by trying to help.

Its just Duke Rhisveri. Dont be scared! Hes going to entertain us.

I dont want him! I want Minni!

Then half of them were pointing at one of the beloved palace teachers, who was waving with a pained smile from the side. Rhisveri kept playing, trying to smile.

If you tuned into Wistram News Networks broadcast, you could get live commentary from little images of other rulers in the sidebar. Fetohep was just staring, mouth open slightly, while Drassi shook her head in complete disbelief. Queen Geilouna was drinking her entire cup of wine.

Several servants looked at Rhisveri and the mans increasingly reddening face, and then Teacher Minni rushed forwards and clapped her hands.

Alright, everyone. Big smile for me! [Who Can Smile]? Lets have a snack and a short break!

She made a smile with her fingers. The faltering dulcimer cut offand the children obliged her with a smile. That they could smile was gooda [Teacher]s Skill to make sure all was well.

They cheered up, and the crying stopped as a snack was quickly procured and divided up. The snack, incidentally, had been meant for the half-hour break in this hour-long performance of Rhisveris abilities.

How long had it been?

Seven minutes. Itorin called for more snacks and to make sure this was recorded and shown across his great lands. In honor of his brother.

Seven minutes?

Rhisveris face was grey behind the curtain as he wiped sweat pouring off his brow. Hehe felt like the Dragonfire of Teriarch hadnt been as hot as this.

He had feared fighting his actual brother less than going out behind that curtain.

We could cut the broadcast, Your Grace? Perhaps magical interference?

One of the servants seemed ready to do it just to save Rhisveri. But the Wyrm just knew his face was going to be all over the television if he didntdidnt

Okay. First step. [Grand Fireball]. Throw it out the window. Then, if they arent impressed, another one for the entire room. Aim at Visophecin.

No, he couldnt do that. C-could he?

Whatever you do, dont cry. Dont shout. Dont beg. Hold onto a scrap of dignity.

Wh-whats next on the schedule? What else do we have?

Eryou were going to teach them the art of Drathian folding? Little paper cranes and such?

Rhisveri stared at the colorful pieces of paper and the sample. He stared at the children.

Those wretches will blow their noses on them and eat the rest. What else?

A lesson on Ailendamus history and General Dionamellas sacrifice? We, uhhave a painting of her?

The servants were staring at him with such intensity he didnt need telepathy to read their thoughts. Please not a history lesson. Please not

Perhaps not. What next?

The servants looked down at their list. They looked up and gave him waxy smiles.

It, ahjust says applause break and concluding speech, Your Grace.

It was then that the Wyrm began hyperventilating. He sat behind the curtain, hearing the precious seconds winding down as Minni asked everyone to be good and to listen to the nice Duke and got a chorus of yes from the kids.

What a hero. What an unsung champion. She had to go out there with that horde of rabid vermin each and every day and hold their scattered attention?

Rhisveri could run. He could runand hed be laughed at forever. His reputation? Visophecin was out there. He was chuckling, that horned devil. That demon!

W-w-what should I do?

Was his voice trembling? The servants looked at each other, and one whispered.

If a child were to run into the cameras, Your Grace?

The Wyrm stared at the servant. That was so obvious. Fetohep would call it out in an instant, and Rhisveri would be the Duke who had to fake the cameras going down to save face.

Wait. Dead gods. Teriarch was going to see this. The Dragonlord, the immortalstheyd seen all of this.

Rhisveri had been hot, despite his cold-blooded nature. Now, he went ice-cold. He was spinning. He was stumbling around behind the curtains, and the servants were telling him to breathe, to calm down, to go out there and just begin the history lesson and

And then Duke Rhisveri, overwhelmed, went quite mad. So entirely mad. And he did the only thing he could think of doing.

Perhaps we should bail him out now?

The Lucifen were having the most fun theyd had all year. But they were aware of how petty Rhisveri could be, so theyd come with a backup plan.

Azemith glanced into the hallway where their ace in the deck was waiting. Uzine was ready to take over for Rhisveri and help the Wyrm save face. There wasprobablyno way that even Rhisveri could mess with the Agelums way with kids.

Visophecin was nodding reluctantly when the curtains swung back. He looked up, expecting to see Rhisveri at his lowestand prepared to save that image for his darkest hours when he lay dying, just so he could laugh.

But he stopped. The Lucifens eyes opened wideand the other Lucifen turnedand stared. Azemith and her partner, Igolze, stared, and Paxere whispered.

Oh no. Weve gone too far. Hes lost it.

The guests, the audience, even the commentators on the broadcastall stopped. It took them a moment to understand what they were seeing.

Rhisveri had set something up in the brief minutes he had. It waswell, it was about stomach-height. Low enough that the children could see the edge, if not over it from where they sat.

It was just some bits of wood forming a rough window into which an empty square of space sat.

Andvery conspicuouslyRhisveri, ducking down behind it. He was a tiny bit too large for his contraption, so you could see him peeking out from the sides and over the top if you were tall enough.

What the flying f

Paxeres whisper was silenced by her parents. But Visophecin had felt a sudden pit open in his stomach. Wait a second. This looked familiar. Was this?

The children were staring at the box, and some were wondering where Rhisveri had gone and how much longer this would take when the first unholy being rose from behind the wooden square.

Itopened its mouth and began to speak in an exaggerated way. It was a light blue color, and it had two tiny stubs for arms. It was somewhat crudely made, or at least, you feltyou could see the stitching on parts of it.

Oh, and it made the entire room stare. Children included. What came out of the little beings mouth was a bright, chirrupy voice, slightly offas if it werent coming from the being itself.

It wasin fact

A sock puppet. And only Visophecin and one other had ever seen its like before.

Hey, little boys and girls! I hear youre bored of boring old Duke Rhisveri! Well, Im the Mini-Duke! Rhissy! And Im going to entertain you because hes not here!

Statues. Waxworks. People engraved in time in complete frozen silence. The children looked at each other as the little puppet cast about.

Oh wait, darn! I forgot my clothes! One sec!

He ducked downand then came up with a bright red coat that he was shrugging on. Rhissy wiped at his brow.

Whew! Alright. Dont tell anyone I was naked. Wait. My pants!

He ducked down again, and then someone made a sound. Oesca. It sounded likea snort. The kind of humor you got at a gallows, perhaps. Or the ludicrousness had just overwhelmed all other emotions. But the childrenespecially the three-year olds and youngest oneswere showing the first signs of attention they had so far.

Especially when the second puppet slowly rose up over the edge. This one was better-made, and sheshe was definitely shehad darker skin, black hair, and looked very familiar to some.

Psst. Rhisveris silly. And he smells.

Hey! You! Youre not supposed to come back till later! Get out of here!

Rhissy rose with pants visible on his underside and a club with nails. He began whacking the other puppet, and Puppet-Ryoka fled. Now, the children were looking at each other but pointing to the play.

What is going on? Is he mad, Visophecin?

I dearly hope so.

The Lucifen pointedthen ducked as the bat went spinning past his head. It bounced off Igolzes head, and the Lucifen staggered.

What the giggling children didnt realize was how damn hard the puppet had thrown an actual piece of wood. But the puppet just pointed one stubby arm.

Hey, you! Shush! Im talking here! Alright, kids. Do you likestories? Can I hear a yes? Come on now, dont you know words?

Yes!

A few children picked it up, and now almost all of them were focused on Rhissy. The puppet beamed.

Great! Then lets have a little story. A fun storyand a true story, not like all those boring ones. How many of you have heard of the Lightning Thief?

He counted hands.

Oh, not bad! Well, I have a story that happened in Ailendamus. Its called the Barefoot Thief. And its about a Thief who broke into Ailendamus and stole something. So listen up! Its about the most amazing Thief in the world. Who managed to not only ruin poor Rhisveris life, but makes everyone else miserable! Just by existing! If you want, throw things at her whenever she appears. Alrighthere we go!

He ducked down, and the same puppet from before rose. The children sitting there blinked as little cotton tomatoes and stones appeared in their laps. They stared at the female puppet as it rose.

Hey, everyone! Im Ryoka GrI mean, Ryoko Griffin! And Im the best person ever! Im a famous Courier because I can run barefoot. And I can even fly with the wind! My personal wind! See!

Thenwith an amazing farting soundthe puppet flew up a bit and zoomed around, and the audience saw there was no hand attached. There was even a smell effect and visible green gas. Someone gagged, but the children began laughing.

And I help people! Like this! See! I have your delivery, sir!

She landed, and a farmer tipped his cap to her as another puppet rose.

Why thank you, Miss

Youre welcome! Another good deed done!

Ryoko swung around and slapped the [Farmer] in the face with her hair.

My eyes!

He went stumbling around, then slammed into a rake, which smacked him in the head. Ryoko turned.

What happened? Oh no! Let me help you up! Whoops! I dropped your rake!

She then tossed it into his face. The screaming [Farmer] writhed around as Ryoko wiped at her brow.

Whew. Another good deed done. Hey! You know what I love? Stealing from people. This is my rake now. I found it. Hey look! Ive got a rake!

She picked up the object and waved it overhead happily as the farmer lay there, crawling after her. And by that pointthe first tomato flew at Ryoko. But the children were laughing. And when Rhisveri appeared, stroking his little beard and talking about how happy he was, they were already trying to warn him about the evil Thief coming his way.

It was a silly play. It had fart jokes and slapstickand you could throw things at Ryoko whenever she appeared. But what kept Visophecin staring, and the immortalsand perhaps even the adults too was because this was a Wyrms tale.

A true tale. Perhaps the only one Rhisveri had ever thought to tell. In his desperation, he fell back to it, with some alterations.

But the core was the same. The children giggled and cried out and booed the Thief as she ruined peoples lives in comedic ways, and the Rhisveri-puppet tried to clean up after her and reason with her. That was just artistic license.

Yet the friendly Dryad and the Great General Dioname were not. Of course, it was just a fantastical element to make the children ooh and admire them. Watching Dionames puppet beat down both Eldavin, Tyrion Veltras, and Ser Solstice made them laugh. And they cried out when Ryoko lit Fithee and her forest on fire.

Fithee? Fithee? Where are you? Are you alright? Please be alright.

But there was silence when the little figure went rooting through the ashes, crying out that name. Such a silence among the Lucifen you could have heard them blinking. They didnt take a breath.

A little puppet called out, alone, with such emotion that Visophecin realized Rhisveri was mad. Madand so raw he had the children crying. Until the Dryad rose.

You cannot defeat the forest. [Regrowth]. Dont be sad, Rhissy.

Fithee!

And the forests rose and sent the Windy Thief flying. And Fithee appeared, and the two puppets hugged. Then they went to rescue Great General Dioname, who was fighting off half of Izril by herself.

It was a childrens story, and at the end, when Rhissy, Fithee, and Dioname celebrated and locked the Windy Thief up, the children cheered and clapped. And the Lucifen applauded like a quiet storm, staring.

Staring at the Duke as he appeared, bowing, looking proud of his performance, which had the children begging to beat up the evil Windy Thief or make their own puppets. He didnt seem to realize the others were thereand even afterwards, not how much theyd truly seen.

Everyone thank Duke Rhisveri! Im sure hell put on another performance againand maybe even the littlewhat did you call them?

Sock plays.

Rhisveri exhaled as the broadcast began winding down. He stepped over to Visophecin and muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

There. Nothing simpler. I may have stumbled thanks to your pranks at the startoh, dont look at me that way. I just took some liberties with the tale. What did you think?

It waswell done.

The Duke stroked his chin, not seeing Visophecins odd look.

Well, thats fiction for you. Pure improvisation, really. PurelyI knew I could do it.

The tale of the Windy Thief was going to become an Ailendamus classic. As was, perhaps, the new artform that the Duke of Ailendamus had just pioneered. Something less artful than a [Puppeteer]s dollsbut just as adaptive. Perhaps more so.

And he himself had found a talent, if an odd one. The Duke of Ailendamus exhaled, and the Wyrm relaxed. Whether he ignored it or didnt see the reaction that separated child from adultor how real his story had been

He took a bow. And then proceeded to do an encore after much beggingthis time about the Windy Thief back at it again with an obnoxious Green King who kept opening and slamming doors while Rhisveri was trying to sleep. They were stealing another of his treasures again.

At least thereFithee and Dioname danced around. Smiling. Smiling and showing the Wyrms wounded heart to the world.

The laughing, bouncing children quieted down like magic. But the only magic was in the little puppets, each carefully made. So you could practically see, despite their button eyes, their clothsomething as alive as any Stitch-Folk.

Duke Rhissy?

A little doll like Princess Oesca rose to the girls delight and awe. The Duke was staring at his palace, half of which had been destroyed. He turned, and his angry voice was quiet, tired.

Yes? Occi?

Are you mad at the Windy Thief for everything shes done? Are you going to punish her badly?

The two puppets turned, and the Windy Thief was in a cage being beaten with sticks by several knight-puppets as Dioname and Fithee watched. But they stopped, and Rhissys puppet spoke slowly.

You know, Occi? I think Ill let her go free. With a very stern warning and orders not to come back to Ailendamus.

Noo

The children echoed Occis tone of dismay.

But what if she causes more trouble, Duke Rhissy? She nearlynearly got Fithee hurt, and Dioname too. Shouldnt we lock her up for all of time? Thats what mean Viscount Vis would do.

The stern Viscount stared down from a hill, swishing his cloak now and then. But Rhissy just glanced up at him and leaned over to Occi.

You know what, Occi? I could do that. The Windy Thief is a silly girl. A troublemaker. But you know somethingshes not a bad person. Shes incompetent, smelly, and she makes tons of mistakes. But

Thats very true. But?

Rhissy stared at the Windy Runner as she stopped cowering. And his voice was soft as the children watched.

But you give people a second chance. Theres no second chance if you justlock them away. Thats what Ailendamus does, you know. All but the worst people, we give another chance. Even mean old Viscount Vis does that. Even if its hardyou can be forgiven. So lets let the Windy Thief fly away.

Then they went over and unlocked the cage, and the Windy Thief apologized. Then flew away. And the Duke sat down and looked at his castle once more.

The castles all broken, Duke. What happens when King Itorin comes back?

Occi was worried, but the Duke shrugged.

Thingsdont matter that much, Occi. People do. So lets rebuild. Well do it together.

And so they did.

It was a childrens tale that got applause from the audience. It wasnt real. Everyone knew that. Even most of the kids. But it was somethingsomething that even Duke Rhisveri seemed to realize was more than it had begun as

Lessons. Morality plays. That was clearly the intention. I could see someonemyself since Im such an expertputting on more in time. For their tiny minds.

That was all he said to Teacher Minni, afterwards. She looked at him, but the Duke was back to full arrogance, preening and condescending to the children. As if Rhissy and Rhisveri were different people entirely. As if one were but a puppet, mortal and silly, who had been taught by a Dryad and befriended a half-Elf. And the other

The other was a Wyrm, who stood above them all, expecting naught but praise and applause. And the applause did actually continue for a while. The Duke stood imperiously prouduntil he bent down and a shy little boy of three asked to see his favorite doll, Fithee. Then, the Duke looked aroundand produced one and handed it to the delighted boy.

Keep it. And remembershes a superior being. A Dryad, understand? I can always make more. You want one? And you? Finegive me fifteen seconds. Who wants

And he produced little versions of cloth characters, not the sock puppets, for as many who wanted them. The Duke tried to hide behind the curtain and looked around to see if anyone had noticedbut of course, that was why they applauded.

It was, needless to say, a broadcast that topped all of Wistrams metrics. It had everything from embarrassment to a rallying success to sadness to hilarity and something new.

As Fetohep would say

The pretentious pomposity of the Duke is, perhaps, rightly said to be without equal in Ailendamus. Few men could sink so low, but underneath a mountain, nay, a cordillera of artifice and incompetence lies something genuine enough to amuse and capture even an infants attention. From infant to adult, there lies a deeper reservoir of something that might be mistaken for wisdom in time. 3/10. A blasphemously bad opening saved by an intriguing performance. Without the former, it could have risen to greater heights. 5/10. Or perhaps the former informed the latters success. 6/10.

They had more to give than swords and sorcery, you know. And he did know it. Sometimes, the Dragon just forgot.

But perhaps other people were learning to beif not oldthen different than young. Tell them stories.

Show them a path forwards they had not yet seen. But you could not do that in a cave or while sleeping.

They were finding their path, but the Dragonthe Dragon lay there, indulging in self-pity. Which you had to admit, he was good at. Sometimes, you needed help or a reminder. Sometimes

Klbkch stared into the distance from the top of The Wandering Inn. He stood on Birds tower as the Worker shook his fist and told him to get off. Klbkch ignored him.

Rhisveri, Visophecin, and Ailendamus quieted a moment as even the Wyrms ego shrank enough for cogent thought.

And onwards the Haven came, bearing aspects of the north with it. Mihaela Godfrey only felt old when people and things reminded her of it. Like mirrors, which were entirely inaccurate to her truth.

Old was just a word. And there was always someone, something to wake them up. Even in their worst moments.

For the Dragonwell, for a Dragonit was coming.

Three months had passed since the [Innkeeper] came back. Two full months of slumber.

Now.

Rafaema of Manus had left her City of War nearly a month already. She was sick of her massive escort and their pace, but she could see Pallass rising in the distance. And then it was only a hop and skip and kicking all her minders into a ditch. She hoped

Hed still be there. He had told her hed find Rafaema, but she had realized he hadnt said when, and shed waited two months. So she was going to find him, damnit.

Youre not coming.

Luciva will kill me and Ferris and Aldonss if we dont go with you, Rafaema.

Spearmaster Lulv was immune to the Lightning Dragons glares.

You are the worst pick to come with me.

You need me. Liscor has a Gnollish population.

You just want your spear back. Do you think Liscor will like you? You? Of all theif Makhir wasnt busysend anyone but you! If you mess this up for me

The Dragon clenched her fist. Ferris, Lulv, and Aldonss all exchanged glances as the elite [Soldiers] pretended they could hear nothing.

What, exactly, Rafaema was going to meetwhoerwhat

They didnt know. She had refused to say, and Luciva herself wassilent. She wanted them to report back. Everything. They definitely didnt know they were going to see anyoneanything that might change the fates of their city.

Definitely. And they could be unobtrusive, start no issues, and quietly go about their business. Manus. Subterfuge. Tact. These words were sometimes conflated. Often with laughter.

If it had to be done, it would be. Rafaema didnt care. But she was nearly thereand her wings opened wide, and she had a thousand questions. A thousand expectations.

Those could be harsher than anything else.

Now.

Someone else was also coming, but from the opposite direction. She had no escortat least not upon the breeze. She clung to her glider and steadfastly did not look down.

Ryoka Griffin was flying south as people looked up and waved to her. Her face was still burning red after that damn broadcast.

She knew people wanted to talk to her about it, especiallyshe reluctantly looked down and groaned.

The man riding after her with a carriage and an entire convoy behind him. She made a gesture.

Shoo. Shoo!

This was going to be a disaster. Especially if she went to the place with the old guyand Tyrion followed her. Absolutely not. Shed figure something out.

She was smart.

She was reasonably smart.

She could think.

Ryoka Griffin groaned, and in truth, she had no idea if she had the right to visit the only place she could call a kind of home. To visitpeople she owed so much to. A girl she should not keep running from.

Here she was, taking Liscors most-hated man to Liscor. Ryoka could not imagine someone worse to bring.

She wouldnt have done it, honestly. She would have left theleft the Dragon who didnt remember her alone. Really, honestly. Even if it had been two months and she feared he might not have remembered her.

Or gone to sleep. But they could not wait. So Ryoka flew onwards, because she missed her friends. She missed that inn. And she had something else.

It had appeared, as such things did, on her pillow, which was not scary at all. But Ryoka supposed, just once, she could overlook it. At least, here, she felt for the sender of the delicate letter written in pink letters.

Dear Ryoka Griffin,

I need a favor

Now.

The letter still galled her to send. It was painfulnot because you shouldnt ask for help or be humble.

It was just that Ryoka Griffin was not the person to ask for anything. Not for this.

Magnolia Reinhart had been first, and it was a petty thing to quibble over. But she had. She truly had.

Shed spent thirty years. More than thirty years prying a silly old man out of his shell. Only for someone to swoop in and do much the same thing. And bring him back from the dead.

Sometimes, you could be the removed [Lady] who stood outside of the great hall. No one needed to be covered in glory. It was a sticky thing, and it didnt ever last. Also, it attracted flies.

But this?

Magnolia Reinhart was grumpy when she woke. She was so grumpy that even Ressa didnt needle her and just handed over a doughnut. And coffee. With sugar and cream.

There is something so entirely unpleasant about sleeping in a moving carriage. Tell me there are some [Bandits].

We cannot run over them, Lady Reinhart.

Ressa glanced out the window meaningfullythe modest, unpink coach was still enchantedbut barely. And sleeping in it for nigh on a week? When she could have done the same trip in two days with long rests at an inn, max?

Magnolia Reinharts one advantage was that no one, ever, in the history of time would think she was in anything but her pink carriage. Which was currently destroyed.

Both of them. Her backup had been lost. The first, to [Assassins]. The second, to Belavierr. Magnolia Reinhart took the breakfast and muttered darkly.

Damn running them over. Ill grab a crossbow and a wand and see to it myself.

Her uncharacteristic bad mood was not going to get worse. She was going to come to Liscortactfully. Stop by The Wandering Inn, perhaps, and make some amends with Erin Solstice. Or talk to Larra and see what was possessing her.

Bother ValeterisaMagnolia Reinhart knew she was disliked, and so she would be as graceful as could be. She only hoped she could make a good impression as such a figure of enmity. But she had to go, and if she met Ryoka Griffin

Well. She was certain even Tyrion wouldnt stray close to Liscor, which was one problem accounted for. Magnolia Reinhart yawned.

I forgot the High Passes had so many monsters. Are you sure you needall this, Ressa?

She glanced sideways pointedly. One of the reasons why Magnolia could not lie down to sleep in the carriagewhich was still fairly generouswas because of Ressas packed items.

Too many to fit above the coach or in the trunk. They had, of course, food, supplies, potions, gold on hand, all the mundane necessities. Things you used to free a coach. Rope, crowbar, spare axels, auto-loading House of El crossbows, Storm Titan bolts, Drathian summoning crystals

Ressa and the [Maid] sitting with a giant shield and morning star stared at Magnolia. The [Head Maid] glanced left at a [Duelist Maid] with a silver bell attached to her flamberge.

Fairly certain, yes, milady.

Oh. Wellhand me that crossbow, would you? I hear Liscor has a Garbichug problem. I used to have decent aim, you know.

She stared out the window as she waited for a crossbow to be fished out. Her banter was lightbut she was waiting. Just waiting. She truly did have to come here.

Or what was all of what shed been doingfor? Magnolia stared out the window. The High Passes. If she had to empty out every monster in them, Void Eater Goats or Bossels or whatever Ressa was nervous of, she would.

That old man had better not forget her. OrMagnolia Reinhart looked at the mundane crossbow bolt Ressa was offering her. She thought she spotted a Garbichug already. Disgusting creatures. They came from Rhir. So Magnolia plucked a Fireball Bolt out and put it in the crossbow as everyone leaned back. Magnolia delicately rolled down the window and took aim.

If he forgot her, she would remind him.

Magnolia Reinhart, Ryoka Griffin, and Rafaema of Manus. They had business with the slumbering old man. Each one different.

And so they came again and againjust as the first time he had ever met a little Harpy perched on a branch, singing in the rain.

Just like all the others, from his daughter to the ones who had come seeking his aid, seeking revenge. Seeking

Something else. Perhaps that was why he slept, that lazy Dragon.

He was waitingno, hoping someone came to wake him up.

Authors Note: Here we are again. A relatively short chapter thats allowing me to push on edits. I think Im getting a bit better at keeping the word count down and content up. I can always improve, butsometimes you have less time.

This month will certainly be that for me. I have family coming in, and while I want to work throughout the holidays until my long breakI will make time for them at the cost of longer chapters.

Plus I heard Dwarf Fortress is finally releasing with a graphical UI like Rimworld today. So, uh, this might be the last chapter you ever hear from me. Then again, games as legendarily complex as that might just make me never touch a game again.

I hope you liked this chapter, is what Im saying. And there will be morethe people have spoken and the arc has begun. I may break it up, and I do have an idea of other upcoming chapters I must write, but we are set upon our course.

Now, if only I could get good sleep like that Dragonhope youre doing well. I need to buy a new mattress. A bed of coins does not sound comfortable, either. Thanks for reading and rememberhave you done your Christmas shopping? I hear there are train strikes that may or may not be happening.

Stream art by butts! Magic sucking Antinium, Rhissy, and the Windy /buttscord

Ko-Fi: /buttsarts

Ceria by ravvlet!

The Silver Dragon, Nerrhavia, Ama, and more by Lanrae!