Chapter 7: Dragon and Dragon Part Three (Patreon)

Deir had been angry before. In truth, she spent more time with the emotion than was probably safe for a White Mage, but at least in this instance she felt justified.

She had woken after a late night that verged into early morning with First Home’s Council, stumbling into the kitchen to prepare a mug of caf, the pungent black liquid the only thing that could possibly keep her awake for the rest of the day, only to note with a suddenly remarkably less hazy mind that Ethel’s room was empty and that Godric’s room had an extra occupant.

Idly, Deir sipped on her caf as her eyes rested on the hallway down where Godric’s room was.

With Firstborn senses, it wasn’t hard to tell that they hadn’t done that, but it still didn’t make it appropriate.

Not for the heir of Cedric Lux, not when Godric’s first child would be yet another male of the line; it wasn’t something to be risked on a whim.

Even despite her own estrangement from the line, that at least was something she would have agreed with her half-brother about.

She drummed her fingers on the counter, feeling Godric stir, perhaps noticing her attention on him.

She could feel him rise from his bed and slowly prepare for the day, her eyes focusing on him as he finally stepped into the kitchen and their eyes met.

He looked strangely thoughtful, though he wasn’t surprised at seeing her; that much was obvious.

He slipped past her, not saying a word, as he poured himself a mug of caf as well before he drained a silver container of cream from the ice box and far too much sugar from a glass container on the counter into it, so the formerly dark brown liquid was now a warm, almost cream-white tan.

“You had an eventful night, didn’t you?” Deir remarked, raising an eyebrow at her nephew.

Godric shrugged, lackadaisical in motion, and hummed in agreement. “You could say that.”

His cheeks were dusted with light silver stubble, Deir noted, and she found herself reminiscing about another Lux.

Deir looked down at the dark liquid in her cup. “You disobeyed a direct order,” she pointed out.

Godric turned to her, and she was surprised to see his jaw wasn’t as set or as stubborn as she expected. “I did; you can put it in my permanent record if you want,” he shrugged, taking another sip of steaming tan liquid.

Deir frowned. “You understand that it won’t look good for becoming a Temple Knight,” she said quietly, wondering, though consciously not hoping, that perhaps something had broken through in his mind, that he might actually be thinking for himself.

Even if only a little bit.

Godric raised an eyebrow at her. “Yeah,” he said, shaking his head, his lips curving up a bit. “It won’t, but if being a Temple Knight means letting someone I can save suffer, then I don’t want it.”

Deir’s breath caught in her throat, and for a moment she wasn’t looking at Godric; she was looking at Cedric, a broad grin on his face.

‘To dismiss those whom it is one’s power to save is not wisdom or temperance; it is indolence.’

“You’re like your Father more than I gave credit for,” Deir admitted quietly.

Godric grimaced, evidently understanding exactly how she had said it. “That’s not a compliment, is it?”

Deir let a pained smile flicker across her lips and didn’t respond.

“Still,” Godric said, “I’ll accept your punishment, whatever it is; I disobeyed your orders.”

Deir raised an eyebrow in interest, though it was the only motion she allowed herself. “Will that prevent you from treating yourself as expendable?” she asked.

Something flickered through Godric’s eyes, oddly open and pained. “No, but yesterday Ethel got hurt; it was my fault. I accept responsibility for that.”

Deir looked back toward where Godric had come and sniffed, getting the faintest traces of the scent of blood but not as much as she expected, along with something lingering, familiar.

“You healed her?” she asked, keeping any amount of surprise from her tone. “I thought you couldn’t manage that kind of magic.”

Godric looked away, shifting, visibly uncomfortable. “I don’t know; something broke through in me.”

He raised a hand, and a circle rapidly sketched itself in the air, a vitality transfer, mid-level white magic, before flashing and disappearing, and Deir felt her tiredness dissipate- not fully, but it was there.

“It’s still a bit weak,” Deir commented. “Compared to what its overall strength should be, your cast was perfect.”

Godric nodded. “I’m not quite sure why,” he admitted. “But it’s the first improvement I’ve had in a while. I don’t know why it’s weaker now than it was yesternight, but I can actually heal now, so I can’t find myself too disappointed.”

Deir couldn’t find it in herself to be glad; it was another step toward the weapon Cedric wanted and another step Godric was taking away from her.

Godric’s eyes averted from her, looking to the side for a moment before they returned to her. “So my punishment?” he said, his voice almost academically curious.

Deir looked at Godric for a long moment; finally, she spoke, “I’ll decide on it later; for now, we have the problem of First Home.”

“Councilor Geren?” Godric asked, and his silver eyes darkened as he said the name quietly.

Deir nodded, sighing, “I could do a truth sealing on him, but the Council of First Home won’t like it; Temple Knights don’t have jurisdiction here in an allied nation unless we’re granted it.”

Godric scowled, but he did not explode like she expected, sipping his caf. “Are you asking for a plan, or do you already have one?”

Deir smiled pleasantly, and a small bit of warmth surged in her gut. “Come on, you want to be a Temple Knight; this kind of problem-solving is necessary. I want to hear what you think we should do.”

Godric hummed cocking his head to the side. “We don’t know why exactly Geren wanted the attention of the dragon, but I noted last time that his attention focused on Ethel, so I have to wonder if it was just simple desire for a Dragon’s affection.”

Deir raised an eyebrow, but that was all the motion she allowed herself; this was the point of teaching a Circle: giving Godric an answer wouldn’t make him any more capable.

Though perhaps that wasn’t something she should be working towards in the first place.

“Dragons are powerful beings; perhaps he wanted that for himself.”

Godric frowned. “I just don’t think it’s as simple as infatuation; if the Dragon had attacked First Home, the Caedreans would have had all the reason they needed to interfere, and Haven wouldn’t have liked that at all. I mean, this could have started another border conflict.”

Deir’s gut coiled even as her expression remained pleasant. “Are you implying that this was someone’s plan?”

Godric sighed, pushing his hair back from his head, shifting the silver strands away from his face in thought. “I mean, it’s just strange,” he said quietly. “This all escalated so quickly; it’s almost like someone wanted this to start a war, but it’s not necessarily something that can be proved.”

“That’s your Father speaking,” Deir said almost chidingly even as her stomach relaxed. “Not everything is a conspiracy; the simpler answer makes more sense. I can deal with Councilor Geren.”

Godric looked at her, his lips thinned, his eyes almost searching as he looked over her face. “You’re the Head Mage.” he shrugged and then turned away. “Let me know what you want me to do.”

Deir watched as he walked back toward his room, biting her lip. There was no way he could know; it was idle speculation, but he was Cedric’s son, so she shouldn’t have been surprised that Godric wouldn’t necessarily accept that explanation.

She took another sip of her Caf, the taste oddly bitter on her tongue.

Ilsa shimmered into existence in a flare of blue light, her daughter regarding her with a raised eyebrow; the air stilled as they were enclosed by a flare of Blue Magic.

“You let him get away with all of that?” she scowled, her elven ears flicking in consternation, shifting her carefully braided blonde hair back, her sky-blue eyes darkening in displeasure.

“What exactly was I supposed to do?” Deir frowned.

“Punish him!” Ilsa growled, waving her hands in the air for emphasis. “He directly disobeyed you; you think even his scumbag of a Father would prevent you from doing that?”

Deir released a long breath, looking at the angrily breathing Ilsa.

“Do you think it would help?” Deir asked curiously, “Do you think it would change anything?”

Ilsa scowled. “He’s an arrogant, cruel teen boy; someone needs to put him in check before he kills someone.”

Deir smiled sadly at Ilsa. “I know you hate him, Ilsa, but you promised it wouldn’t impair your judgment.”

“I’m not the one whose judgment is impaired,” Ilsa snarled. “I’m the only one who can see him accurately. I’m the only one among my Sisters who can read minds. I know him. Tol’s too soft. Skadi’s too infatuated. I thought you were on my side.”

This again.

Deir kept her face neutral. “You’re not neutral, Ilsa; none of us are. All you can see is the enemy you need him to be.”

“Enemy,” Ilsa bit out. “I studied the keystones for decades; I studied them only for Cedric Lux,” she spat out the name, “To put an end to my research because of some unspecified danger. My Clan’s research. A danger he won’t even tell us about. I know Lux’s; I know what they are.”

“And Tol doesn’t?” Deir raised an eyebrow. “It’s her family that lies buried in the Great Plains, yet she remains objective; why can’t you?”

“That’s not-“

Deir cut her off, deciding to drive to the heart of the matter. “The only thing you bring up to me again and again is that Skadi cares about him too much, but you haven’t considered the actual truth. You were the one who abandoned Skadi in the Under Forest, and Godric was the one who saved her.”

Ilsa reeled back, and Deir felt a moment of guilt at the betrayed look on Ilsa’s face, but it had to be said.

Ilsa opened her mouth, closed it, then turned and walked out of the room without another word.

-

Tol woke up, startling awake from a dream of crimson red blood soaking through her nose even as bright silver eyes seared her mind; she took desperate deep gasps like she had practiced taking for almost a decade when she woke from that nightmare.

Listen with her ears, count the footsteps of people around her, count the heartbeats, the breaths, what the dream could not replicate.

Try not to remember the looks that had been shot her way yesterday.

Ilsa was looking down at her; for some reason, her face twisted in a complicated expression.

“Ilsa?” Tol mumbled sleepily, trying to shut out the vibrations in the air by blinking her eyes blearily as she fumbled for her glasses, and she pushed aside the remnants of her dream.

Ilsa pressed them into her palms, and she took them, smiling thankfully, as she settled them onto her nose. She looked back up at Ilsa. “What’s-“ she broke into a yawn. “What’s wrong?” she mumbled sleepily.

“You were having the dream again.” Ilsa shrugged, and there was a moment of awkwardness in her shoulders before it faded.

Tol smiled at her friend, reaching up to pat the other girl on her blonde head a couple of times, Ilsa taking the contact with a good-natured raise of her eyebrow.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, yawning again, before she rose up fully from her bed, taking the book she had fallen asleep with and placing it on the side table, running a hand through her short, curly black hair.

“You look like a mess,” Ilsa said.

Tol chuckled before yawning again. “Books don’t read themselves, love.”

And more specifically, the Guard reports of First Home were not particularly well written in this case, and there had been all too many gaps she had been trying to fill in.

Ilsa hesitated, then sat on the side of Tol’s bed, silent, her eyes on the wall, as if she had no words.

Tol stood up from the bed and yawned, stretching languidly, trying to stir her frozen muscles as she ran a hand through a mess of curled dark hair, trying to make it so it wasn’t absolutely everywhere.

“Is there something wrong with me?” Ilsa said quietly.

Tol blinked before her emerald eyes darkened a bit in worry. “You had your nightmares again, didn’t you?” she asked softly.

Ilsa hesitated and then nodded, though her eyes didn’t meet Tol’s. Something was off about it, but Tol didn’t press.

Tol dismissed a shower for a moment as she slipped off the bed, knelt, taking Ilsa’s hands into her own, pressing them together in a soft, warm hold. “The usual?” she asked softly.

Ilsa nodded again, and for a moment was quiet as she seemed to gather herself. “I was back at my Clan’s Compound, and they were telling me why I had to leave,” she said quietly, shaking her head. “My research was anathema, too dangerous, the usual stuff, but he was there as well.”

“Cedric Lux?” Tol asked quietly, and Ilsa nodded her head once.

Ilsa nodded, her brow furrowed. “He’s not there in reality, but he’s there in the dream, and he’s smiling because he’s taken everything from me,” she murmured quietly.

Tol nodded her head, just listening because that’s what Ilsa needed.

Ilsa shook her head. “I don’t understand why the dreams keep coming back. I’ve done the meditation exercises; I should have managed to seal those memories with my magic.”

Tol reached out and rubbed Ilsa’s back softly. She could tell her friend the truth. That unless and until Ilsa dealt with the memories, they would keep coming back, and even then maybe they would never leave her.

It wasn’t like her parents’ deaths had left her: the scent of gunpowder, the acrid metallic smell of blood, the burning smoke in the skies.

In truth, to be rid of those kinds of memories, only an actual White Mage’s seal would suffice.

But she didn’t need Blue Magic to read Ilsa’s mind; it wouldn’t help, not in the slightest. Despite the decades the other girl had on her, it was hard to shake that she was more the older sister of Ilsa as well as Skadi.

“Magic can’t fix everything,” Tol said softly.

Ilsa nodded quietly in response before she shook her head. “Deir wants us all up and about; apparently, the lizard and Godric Lux decided to go after the Dragon.”

Tol raised an eyebrow, trying to contain her shock. “And they’re alive?” she asked.

Ilsa snorted, shrugging. “Apparently, what a monster he is, huh. Leave it to Godric Lux to fight a dragon fully transformed and actually win.”

“Is he okay?” Tol asked, the words leaving her lips before she could give them much thought, and she just barely stopped a wince as Ilsa’s eyes flashed.

Ilsa snorted and shrugged, “Monsters like him can’t get hurt like that, I don’t think.”

Tol regarded her friend, her gut twisting slightly as she saw the anger on her Sister’s face. She knew it wasn’t the time, so she didn’t push.

“Let me take a shower then,” she said and grabbed her clothes, flushing her magic through them in a flare of green, instantly cleaning them before she stepped into the hallway, headed towards the shower.

She stopped as she saw a sleepy-looking Ethel dressed in pale silver pajamas dragging a shirtless Godric wearing black sleep shorts behind her, a hand fastened to his wrist, coming out of what was definitely supposed to be Godric’s room.

“-owe me,” Ethel said bluntly.

Godric was shaking his head, a small smile on his face even as his cheeks had reddened the faintest amount. “Ethel, we cannot bathe together; what would your Mother say?”

Ethel didn’t pause. “Congratulations, Ethel. I knew you could do it,” she said bluntly. She tugged again.

Godric frowned, and then dipped his head in acknowledgment. “You’re right; she’s really not the best person to use for that kind of example, but still-“

“I need help washing my hair; you washed it when we were kids. This isn’t a big deal,” Ethel grumbled before succeeding in pulling Godric through the door, which slammed shut and locked.

“What the fuck,” Tol said calmly.

-

Godric took a deep, bracing breath as he sat behind Ethel, whom he managed to convince to wear a fluffy white towel around her torso, though it had been a several-minute argument.

Gently, he massaged Ethel’s hair, shampooing it with practiced hands, even as the girl sat in half-lidded contentment in front of him, a low rumble occasionally emerging from her chest.

“I missed this,” Ethel murmured, her voice echoing across the bathroom marble.

Godric didn’t know how to respond, the guilt choking his words.

He had to get stronger. He softly massaged Ethel’s scalp. He had to be so strong that no one would even look at Ethel, because there was apparently nothing else he could offer, and keeping her away hadn’t worked.

And maybe he could be stronger than that; a low current of Enhancement traversed his limbs, white energy flickering over his pale skin, far from the elegance he expected of himself, but he was distinctly capable of it, and he was slowly getting used to the actual maintenance geometry of the spell now.

He had to constantly shape the energy through his limbs, and he would have to draw back at points as he flushed too much through them, straining the muscles.

“Godric?” Ethel spoke up, and he caught a small note of uncertainty in her voice, as if wondering if she had finally pushed too far.

“I did too,” Godric admitted quietly. “I’ve missed you a lot, Dragon,” he forced the words out, and his enhancement flared for a moment brighter across his skin, and he took note of it quietly.

A rumble went through Ethel again. “I’m not letting you run away,” Ethel said. “So you’re going to get used to this,” she said quietly, her voice echoing across the stone room.

Godric hummed, and for a moment he let himself feel what it was like to be with his best friend again.

“So are we going to find that scumbag who caused that Dragon to transform?” Ethel broke the silence.

“I think I already know who he is,” Godric admitted. “There was a Council Member named Geren; I think he at least knows something.”

Ethel grumbled, “So why don’t we just go beat him up and hand him to Deir, and she can do that Temple Knight bullshit.”

“First Home probably wouldn’t like that,” Godric said and then brushed a gentle current of white magic over Ethel’s head as he felt her stiffen, causing her to immediately relax. “Which doesn’t mean we won’t do something, but I get the feeling I’m on thin ice as it is with Deir.”

Though really, when it came to the woman, he was unsure of most everything about her.

“She’s a Firstborn,” Ethel mumbled. “I thought they all practically worshipped you.”

Godric chuckled as he began to idly knead a tense knot out of Ethel’s neck.

“That’s not exactly the feeling I get from her,” he said. “My Father said she wanted something from me.”

“Well, he’s Cedric Lux, isn’t it his job to be suspicious of everyone, and isn’t she one of his Knights? What the Flame is his problem?”

“You know Deir’s his half -sister, but apparently she also seems to think that I should leave Haven,” Godric said, his eyes trailing over to Cat, who was poking and prodding at the water of the bath he had drawn, hissing as her paw hit the steaming hot water, waiting only a couple of minutes before she jabbed it again to achieve the same reaction.

“What?” Ethel stiffened under his hands. “Wait, but she’s a Temple Knight; that’s treason, and your Father has to know-” she shook her head, befuddled.

“It’s a good question,” Godric admitted, double-checking that the barrier he had generated in the circumference of the room was still up, a poor man’s version of a blue mage spatial hold. “I don’t know; Deir certainly didn’t seem friendly with Cera or Olra, did she? I don’t think she’s doing it on behalf of the Caedreans.”

Ethel hummed, interrupted by a purring rumble as Godric hit a particularly tense muscle on her back.

“But you think she’s a traitor?” Ethel asked quietly.

Godric released a deep breath. “I don’t know; knowing my Father, he wouldn’t tell me either way. Everything’s always a lesson,” he said, shaking his head, an annoyed frown pushing onto his face. “And Deir isn’t better on that front, honestly.”

A moment of silence passed between them before Ethel spoke, her voice quiet but certain.

“You got me, though, so I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”

“It might be dangerous,” Godric chuckled.

Something fierce crossed Ethel’s face. “Daughters of Eld don’t fear anything,” she said gruffly.

Godric hummed, finishing up his work on Ethel’s scalp and hair. “No, they don’t. Come on, let’s wash up.”

They took turns rinsing off, then dressed and stepped out of the bathroom clean and prepared, and walked into the dining area where Deir sat, her head buried in a book, a breakfast assembled before her: slabs of bacon, rice porridge, eggs, and potato hash cakes set on their dishes about the table.

Godric sat before his plate, glancing at Deir for a moment, unsure what to say.

Ethel, without a word, snatched a slice of his bacon and began munching on it, her golden eyes gleaming with enjoyment.

“Should we wait for the rest of our Circle?” Godric asked.

Deir shrugged, shooting him something like an amused look. “They’re coming; no need for you two to eat cold food.”

Ethel took another slice of his bacon and chewed happily.

“I’m sorry for earlier,” Godric said, looking seriously at Deir. “I was out of line.”

Deir raised an eyebrow, then shrugged easily, an easy smile on her face, ruby lips turning up as she took a bite of her own food. “I’m glad you at least felt that you could tell me what you really thought,” she replied.

Tol walked into the room, nose buried in a book, took a seat at the table, and began serving herself one-handed from its contents, somehow elegant even though her gaze didn’t shift from her reading.

Deir didn’t say a word, looking oddly affectionate at the girl.

Ilsa flickered into existence in a swirl of blue in her chair next to Tol, not bothering to look at the rest of the table.

Some minutes later, Skadi emerged from the shadows, her cheeks a fierce red and her eyes carefully avoiding everyone.

She glanced about, and her cheeks flushed further before she took the only remaining seat on Godric’s free side, and Godric could practically feel her vibrating.

It was Skadi, naturally, who broke the silence. “So what exactly do we have left to do here?” she remarked.

The eyes of the table centered on Deir, who looked surprised for a moment before she responded, “I think I’ll be covering the rest of what needs to happen. I’ve gotten a handle on First Home’s Council.”

And how exactly she intended to do that Deir seemed to conspicuously avoid.

“So what are we supposed to do?” Ilsa said bluntly, unusual to Godric’s eyes; the girl usually kept her mask on more.

Deir smiled a small, pleasant thing which gave no indication of her thoughts. “You’ll be splitting into groups and helping investigate as a learning opportunity. That is the point of the Circles after all.” She turned to look at Tol, who did not look up from her book. “Tol, you told me the buildings in the northeastern district of First Home were the most recently reconstructed at dinner, didn’t you?”

Tol nodded, not looking up from her book.

“From what I learned, that’s the location where the Dragon lost her heart. I want you and Ethel to go there first, take a look around, and see if anyone has something to say or if anything seems out of the ordinary.”

“Is that a good idea?” Ilsa asked, her eyes narrowing. “You think First Home’s Council is going to be particularly pleased about that, we don’t have all that much authority here.”

“As far as First Home knows, there is still a Dragon waiting to come down and wreak vengeance upon them; I think they’ll appreciate the help,” Deir replied, amusement on her face.

Godric restrained the comment that wanted to reach his own lips of exceeding their mandate.

He also noted no reaction to Deir’s words, and surmised that everyone in the Circle had been appraised at least in broad strokes of his and Ethel’s adventure.

“And when they find out?” Ilsa drawled, raising a golden eyebrow. “They could just ask you under Oath.”

Deir nodded her head conciliatorily. “Of course they could, but I don’t think they’re particularly keen to seek any of us out right now. They have their own secrets they’d rather remain hidden.”

Deir clapped her hands together lightly. “We’ll split into three pairs. Skadi, you’re with me; Tol and Ethel, as I said, I want you to take a closer look at the northeastern district near the docks.” She turned to look at Godric, who restrained his grimace. “Godric, I want you and Ilsa to ask around and get a general feel for the people; you’re a Firstborn, and they should trust you.” She turned to look at Ilsa, and her face became a bit more serious. “No reading anyone’s mind until Godric gives you permission.”

Ilsa startled, and her cheeks became red as she glared at Deir. “Why do I have to listen to him?” she growled out.

Deir raised an eyebrow, and Godric saw something more in the motion. “He’s our Second, and he’s more educated on authorized White Mage questioning than you are.”

Ilsa scowled and moodily poked at her potato hash cake with her fork.

Godric attempted to suppress his disappointment. As pathetic as it sounded, he would have rather spent the time with Ethel, and it wasn’t like he thought Tol would necessarily cause her issues, but after the events of yesternight he wasn’t keen to let her out of his sight.

Still, he shoveled the rest of the food into his mouth, taking note of the pleasant, salt-and-peppered notes of the hash, the neutral sweetness of the rice porridge, and the final egg, which broke underneath his fork into yellow goo.

The Circle cleaned up together, putting away their dishes after they were cleansed in the dishwasher that was powered with a mix of green magic to alter the dishes inside to a higher durability, while red magic harshly cleansed everything else in a matter of seconds, causing a puff of steam to emerge from the door when it was swung open again.

When they were done, Godric saw that Ilsa was sharing a quiet discussion with Skadi, Skadi looking remarkably perturbed and Ilsa stone-faced.

He looked away, consciously deciding not to listen in, even as the conversation buzzed on the edges of his perception.

Ethel caught his sleeve between two fingers, and he looked down at the golden-haired girl who was staring up at him with a stern expression on her face. “Behave,” she said quietly.

Godric rolled his eyes only to chuckle as she butted her head lightly against his chest.

“Yeah, I will, but I don’t think I’ll be the issue,” he replied.

Ethel’s eyes flickered to Ilsa before they returned to him. “Just don’t make it a bigger problem than it has to be, Godric.”

Godric supposed he could point out the marked unfairness of that request, but on the other hand, he agreed with Ethel; who knew how long he would have to work with Ilsa before their team was deemed ready to graduate?

Best to keep things at least on his side peaceful.

-

Ethel walked side by side with Tol, feeling okay for the first time in a long time. The furious heat that usually lived in her gut had abated somewhat, and while she'd tracked Godric’s location the entire time as he and Ilsa headed to the nearby docks, now she was stuck with Tol.

Tol was really an odd girl to her.

A small, peaceful, gentle smile; quiet and bookish, but she also seemed far from unwilling to speak her mind.

They stood beside a stone house that carried several stories into the air, the pale grey stone embossed with intricate designs that Tol seemed absolutely fascinated by.

The mural depicted something like a massive turtle drifting along in an ocean current, its shell embossed with precious metals and gemstones, sapphires and rubies the most prevalent.

Tol’s hand was pressed against the side, and her eyes were closed in seeming thought as she had been for a while.

Ethel focused on the trailing currents of red magic drifting through the air. There were echoes of a massive disturbance, and the further into the district they walked, the more she noticed it.

She bent down for a moment, tracing the stone and feeling a remnant of cool magic trail her fingers; something icy had been frozen and then shoved through the earth.

Even the district's human inhabitants seemed to notice, as the typical shop stalls were far more dispersed, and the only food she saw being sold came from a somewhat rickety wooden stand with some form of grilled sea creature.

Ethel glanced back at Tol, who still seemed enraptured by the stone wall, then shrugged as she walked up to the stall owner, a man with a long white beard and a balding head who smelled like salt and water.

The man looked up and smiled pleasantly at her. “What can I do for you, young lady?” he asked with a pleasant croak.

Ethel liked him immediately.

“Whatcha got?” Ethel asked, looking at the smoking grill behind him, which she noted he kept glowing with his free hand.

“We just got some Eel in today,” the man replied warmly. “It’s great for your skin and hair.”

Ethel laughed at the immediate sell, then hopped onto a stool and nodded agreeably, as if that alone had convinced her. “A girl does need to take care of herself,” she replied.

The man croaked out a laugh, then held out a hand, which Ethel clasped.

“I’m Rory Roi,” the man said, “I’ve lived in First Home all my life, and I haven’t seen many girls like you around.”

Ethel raised an eyebrow; he was saying something very specific, and judging by the strength of his grip…

“You’ve met Dragons before?” she asked.

Rory gave a small but slightly pained smile. “Oh yes, one of my previous customers, a wonderful young lady like yourself.”

Ethel glanced around the street, taking in the man’s words.

“Not a lot of traffic here,” she remarked.

Rory nodded his head agreeably. “Not recently, no. Since that whole business with the Duel, it’s been pretty quiet; people are most likely afraid this will be the first place she comes back.”

Ethel looked at the man and sniffed once, getting a sense of him; he was aged and weathered, but something distinctly familiar clung to his scent. “You have Firstborn lineage, don’t you?” she remarked.

Rory looked a bit surprised before nodding. “I do have that good fortune; it’s also made these last three hundred years easy on the old bones.”

Ethel nodded, thinking to herself for a moment. “So why the cooking?” she asked. “Surely you could find a better way to spend that much time?”

Rory hummed and then began to dice the grilled eel. “I fought in the Second War of Liberation,” he said softly. “Felt like the right thing to do. I didn’t inherit any White Magic from my blood, but with my own Red, I thought I could make a difference. First day on the field, we got ordered to bombard one of the Caedreans' outlying settlements. We knew there weren’t military forces in the area, but there was massive military manufacturing capacity inside. I think the commander said they were making cannons and artillery shells. I was no Circle Mage from the Institute, but with my squadron of other Red Mages it wasn’t so hard.”

Rory sighed and then set the skewers before her. “We blew the factory and just about the rest of the settlement with it.”

Ethel took a bite of one of the skewers and found herself appreciating the sweet, tangy sauce and the crisp texture of the eel against the roof of her mouth.

“I guess after that, fighting in wars didn’t seem as important,” Rory continued. “They never seem to solve much. Most of the time they feel like they’re just a pastime the Northern Continent can’t shake.”

Ethel regarded the man quietly. “The Dragon came by here often?”

“It’s what you lot are here for isn’t it?” Rory asked, “I recognized Haven mages fairly well; you do have those cloaks, don’t you?”

Ethel fiddled with her own red half cloak. “So you know what happened?”

Rory shrugged. “As well as anyone, her name was Yila of the Tyo Line, at least that’s what she told me. She traveled a lot, as Dragons were wont to do, until she found her Heart here in First Home.”

“Who was he?”

Rory frowned. “Some fisherman’s son, Beastman, not a drop of silver in him, just a boy who loved the ocean, used to sell me his catch.”

“Family?” Ethel asked.

Rory shook his head. “No, they died to a leviathan that smashed their boat in passing.”

“You know a lot,” Ethel pointed out.

Rory gave his small, pained smile again. “I knew Temple Knights would come and sort the mess out, and I wanted the right people to be asked the right questions.”

“And those people are?” Ethel asked leadingly.

Rory shook his head. “Don’t know. They say there was a duel, but I didn’t see it, and curiously no one knows the other name. Must have been some fight, though. Didn’t expect a fisherman to have such mastery of Red Magic, even aspected to only water.”

That was the rather strange part of it, wasn’t it?

“Dragon’s Hearts are usually uncommon people,” Ethel said lightly. “There was probably more to him than most, but she knew.”

Rory raised an eyebrow but nodded. “I’ll have to take your word for it; I’m not in the business of telling Dragons what to love.”

“Is there someone who is?” Ethel asked.

Rory's face became slightly more pensive. “People say there is. I couldn’t say more than what I know; isn’t that how Temple Knights elicit testimony?”

Ethel shook her head. “Not a White Mage, so you don’t need to worry about it. I did have a question, though: do you mean to tell me that the fisherman did some of this?”

Rory shrugged. “I mean, it was both of them, but sure, I suppose he must have contributed to the damage; we had stone frozen so cold it shattered.”

“And the fight was,” Ethel hesitated, “Contained?”

Rory nodded again. “For as much as a duel can be contained, no one else was injured, though it was close. I heard Councilor Geren took credit for that.”

Ethel nodded. “So Councilor Geren was involved?”

“Sure,” Rory drawled out, “But if you ask me, it’s only to be expected. He was down here with Captain Hart only just the other day.”

“Expected?” Ethel latched onto the word instantly.

Rory shrugged. “Sure, Councilor Geren and Yila were friends.”

-

Ilsa hated to admit it, but Godric, at least right now, seemed to have taken Deir’s instructions and actually followed them for once.

Of course Deir hadn’t been specific about who they should talk to, and Godric seemed to be pressing that distinction just a bit.

Godric politely rapped his knuckles off the wooden red door in front of them, a double-wide construction set against the marble stone, notable in that it was actually made of wood, which Ilsa thought probably represented just how well off the inhabitant was because most of the wood she had seen so far here seemed to be dedicated to the ships.

Ilsa’s ears flicked as she felt the space inside the house shift before the door opened, revealing a befuddled-looking blonde man, wrapped in a red sleep robe.

“Can I,” he yawned sleepily, “Help you?”

Godric regarded the man with a cool expression on his face. “Yes, Councilor. If you had a moment, I had several questions.”

Geren blinked, seemingly realizing who he was talking to, and for a brief moment Ilsa felt panic and guilt flare through his mind.

“Yes, of course,” Geren gestured them in. “Who am I to deny Cedric Lux’s-“

“That’s not necessary,” Godric interrupted. “I’m not here on his behalf; I’m just a representative of a Mage Circle from Haven. This isn’t an interrogation; I’m just here to ask you some questions.”

“Of course.” Geren nodded a couple of times before he led them down an elegant stone hallway into a lounge with an assortment of red cushioned chairs and couches. “Please make yourself comfortable; I had just put some caf on the stove.”

He puttered back through another doorway and reemerged some minutes later with a silver tray with three cups, placing it down on a smooth brown wooden table.

Geren lifted the kettle and poured forth equal servings of dark black liquid that filled the room with its smoky scent.

Godric took his cup, and Ilsa followed his lead; she took a sip of the smooth but acrid liquid, enjoying its warmth even as she raised an eyebrow as Godric began to pour a truly obscene amount of cream into his cup.

Geren apparently noticed as well. “You don’t take your caf black? Sorry, I should have asked. I’m making a terrible mess of things, aren’t I?” the handsome blond man smiled wanly.

Godric didn’t say anything for several moments as he continued to turn his caf into a desert before he looked at Geren again.

“You knew the Dragon before she transformed,” he said quietly.

Ilsa stiffened, surprised, before locking her eyes onto Geren, waiting for whatever moment Godric would signal her to do a reading.

“How would you- I mean,” Geren laughed, “That’s rather absurd, don’t you think?”

Godric continued to regard the other man implacably and made no indication for Ilsa to read him.

Geren grimaced and looked down, and the guilt was clear on his face. “I should have expected a White Mage, especially the son of Cedric, to realize that such shouldn’t be,” he admitted.

Godric nodded his head. “Perhaps. Please tell me what you know.”

Geren looked down. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I am not so brave as one such as you; I had hoped I needn’t get involved.”

“Then why did you make the request for us to come here?” Godric asked.

Geren looked up sharply. “How do you know that?”

Godric smiled almost sympathetically. “I saw you looking at Ethel; you’ve been around Dragons before, and you know how they tend to behave. At first I thought you had perhaps engineered the death of this Dragon’s heart but-“

“I would never-“ Geren interrupted, his face becoming desperate.

Godric stopped speaking, looking at Geren closely.

Geren looked down. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I loved her, but I had long known she did not love me back, and I was quite alright with that. It was Sam Soe that she loved, and it was something that I was well aware of that couldn’t be changed.”

“So why did you duel him?” Godric asked, and Ilsa looked at Godric closely, unable to believe he hadn’t yet signaled for her to read the man’s mind.

“Because I had received evidence from Captain Sara that he had been conspiring to start another war.”

“You still have proof of such?” Godric asked.

Geren nodded slowly, almost disbelievingly, as he was heard out. “Yes, I have it in my study, but please, you must not reveal it.”

Godric looked at the man, raising a single pale white eyebrow, silver eyes narrowed.

Geren twisted his hands. “I loved her, and she loved him. I do not wish to damage either of their memories now; there is no point.”

“Could I talk to Sara?” Godric asked.

“Ah,” Geren nodded his head. “Of course, I should go and get her.” he visibly hesitated again.

Ilsa regarded the man with consternation as he continued not to move.

Godric sighed and rubbed his head. “Perhaps you can go upstairs and fetch her then?” he asked dryly.

Ilsa nearly choked on her coffee, and Geren’s cheeks flamed absolutely red before he nodded faintly and then stood up and began to walk back through the living room toward the stairs.

Ilsa looked at Godric, unable to restrain her shock. “How exactly did you know that?”

“Dragon heartbeats are louder than humans,” Godric said, shrugging. “They’re easy to hear through the noise of the city; for example, if I focus, I can tell that Ethel is by the waterside of First Home right now.”

Ilsa nodded slowly, unable and unsure what to do with that information.

Did that mean Deir could hear all the quiet things she mumbled under her breath in her room?

This was bad for a number of reasons, and now she couldn’t figure out which was worse, and they still had to talk to this Sara.

Ilsa momentarily considered engaging a thought connection with Godric’s mind to find out exactly what was going on before she tossed the idea away; she would sooner throw herself from the Council’s Chambers to the city of Haven below than willingly forge that much of a connection with Godric Lux of all people.

Godric was looking at her for some reason, now she realized, and his eyebrow was raised.

Ilsa looked back at him, refusing to say anything.

Godric sighed and then spoke, “I was asking whether you were alright.”

Ilsa shrugged. “I don’t have anything to say right now,” she said, her hand slipping to her waist to rest on her athame.

Ilsa looked around the room again just so she wouldn’t have to look at Godric, her eyes trailing the wooden table, the plush chairs, the slate gray walls.

Her attention shifted as she heard two pairs of footsteps, and then Geren reemerged with Sara behind him. Sara was dressed in a light green dress, and her golden eyes were narrowed instantly at them.

Sara grabbed Geren’s hand lightly and then pulled him to the couch, where she placed him down before she settled in close to his side, and Ilsa was struck inexplicably that it was exactly how Ethel had treated Godric this morning.

“Ma’am,” Godric dipped his head respectfully.

Sara rolled her eyes and spoke in a dry, almost husky voice, “Why exactly are you bothering my Geren?”

“Sara,” Geren chided gently, but there was a relaxed way to it, a reminder, not a scolding.

Sara rolled her eyes again but continued to glare at Godric.

Godric pushed his hair back, shoving the silver strands behind his head in a wave. “Geren’s your heart, I take it?” he asked.

Sara nodded slowly. “We met several years ago when I went searching for him,” she said softly.

“And you’re aware of his prior feelings for-“

Sara smiled faintly. “Yila and I were not opposed to the other; she had her heart, and I mine.”

Godric nodded, seemingly taking her words at face value, but Ilsa could no longer let that slide.

Leave it to the Monster not to even mention he had dealt with the transformed Yila.

“You say that, but she’s the one who lost her heart,” Ilsa remarked coolly, ignoring the look of consternation shot her way by Godric.

Sara frowned, and there was something almost lost about her expression. “Yes, and that is my fault; perhaps if I had handled the situation better, we could have resolved things more amicably.”

“Please tell me what happened from your perspective,” Godric said.

Sara grimaced, and a sharp tooth poked over her lips for a moment. “Sam Soe was a citizen of First Home for the last twenty or so years. After his parents died in an incident with a leviathan, he was taken care of by the Fishing Guild as a son of one of their members. Consequently, he became a Fisher as well, despite performing well enough on the aptitude tests for his Red Magic to go to the Haven Institute.”

Ilsa glanced at Godric, whose face remained neutral and unchanging.

“How does a Fisher go about starting a war?” Godric asked.

Ilsa found herself, for a single moment, very much agreeing with that question.

“Fishing in First Home is our lifeblood,” Sara said. “He was beginning to make remarkable progress from inside his Guild. So much so that some of the bigger Guilds on the Continent were beginning to offer funding for further expansion of the city, but the rates were, well, punitive to put it lightly, so Sam Soe remained unwilling to accept any loan.”

“So how did a war help with that?” Godric asked.

Waters help her, had Cedric Lux’s son just asked an intelligent question?

“Haven is never so free with loaning silver as when the Northern Continent is beginning to have to deal with the Caedreans again; I imagine that was Sam’s main motivation, and certainly since the Caedreans made their encampment to our North, many Guilds have been offering further loans sponsored by Haven.”

Godric stroked his chin thoughtfully, but Ilsa felt she had to push on that sentence.

“It’s too small.” She shook her head, and the room’s attention focused on her. “Haven’s money is good, yes, but I don’t see why he wouldn’t just find smaller lenders. I’m sure one of the Guilds of First Home had some spare silver if he was actually managing expansion.”

“Perhaps if Sam was human,” Sara smiled wanly, “He was a Wolf Beast, though, and folk like him aren’t treated well even at the best of times in a place like First Home. Whether it’s because people remember the times when the Chieftains of the Great Plains ruled us or because there is something more deep-seated and meaner within the humans here, it remains the same. I think it all probably just got to him.”

Godric frowned deeply, clasping his hands. “I see,” he said quietly.

Ilsa looked at Godric and her gut clenched; there were too many emotions flitting about him, and she didn’t like how it made her feel.

“So that’s it then?” she asked coolly before shaking her head. “No wonder this continent is going up in flames, you humans-“ she glared at Geren. “Just can’t help but seem to make things worse.”

Geren flinched.

“Ilsa,” Godric’s sharp voice caused her to turn to look at the boy who had just set down his coffee and was now looking at her with hard eyes. “The state of the world is all of our fault; blaming humans alone isn’t an answer.”

Ilsa was unable to bite back the next words that crossed her lips. “You would know all about that, wouldn’t you, Godric Lux?” she spat.

Godric raised an eyebrow, and Ilsa felt the air in her lungs freeze.

Flame burn it. Every time.

She had tried so hard to make the image Mother wanted, but she couldn’t; she couldn’t look at Godric as anything but the Monster his blood made him to be.

Ilsa stood up sharply and then turned, walking towards the door. Godric did not call after her.

She grabbed the cool metal knob, turned it, stepped through, and slammed it shut.

She walked several steps down the street, almost aimlessly, not even sure where she would go, now having left the room, her anger cooling the smallest amount.

“Why am I always like this?” she whispered.

The empty street had no response.