Chương 344: 205, 2/2

Citadel Frostflower was located between the North Ar'Civ river and the South Ar'Civ river, in central Quintlan, west of where the two rivers joined to become the Ar'Civ river. This city was not the largest of the Fractured Citadels of central Quintlan. That honor went to Death Throne, further inland and sprawled across a thousand kilometers like an open-air labyrinth of stone castles, deep canyons of shadow, and lots of ooze. That place was filled with all manner of undead, both aware and not. Mostly not.

Frostflower was filled with undeath, too, but also a lot of life. It was perhaps the nicest and safest of the Fractured Citadels. Built in five concentric circles, with the outer circles shimmering with ice and filled with protective magics constantly layered down by the residents, Frostflower got its name from all those layers of spells. From the outside looking in, the place almost looked like an ephemeral, frosted flower.

On the inside, it was a bustling land of mortals like any normal kingdom you would find anywhere, but it was ruled by undead masters in the central circle. Anyone could ascend to undeath in Frostflower, and become one of those masters if they wished. It took personal power, skill, and patronage to ascend, but those things came easy to those who tried. Usually. The mortals toiled in the soil outside, growing magical plants in the hopes of one day ascending to undeath.

It wasn't perfect, but it was one of the best places to be for a person like Quilatalap. Many of the Archlich's former students lived here. The master of this land could even trace her necromancy and power directly from Quilatalap himself. That particular student had come to Quilatalap in a fury of worry and terror in the last hour, alerting him to a certain event that was probably going to happen any minute now. She wasn't sure what was going to happen, but she needed Quilatalap there when it did.

Fairy Moon was coming and she was bringing ultimatums. Maybe Quilatlap's student could escape Fairy Moon, but probably not. One might be able to fight off that immortal fae a thousand times, but Fairy Moon only needed to win once. … That saying sort of wore down when it came to Fairy Moon versus necromancers with phylacteries, but it was true enough.

In the main meeting hall, at the top of Frostflower Keep, where windows opened up in every direction so that the ruler of this land could see all of her domain at once, Quilatalap sat on a guest throne on a dais kept to the side. The guest dais and the guest throne were a recent addition. The main dais dominated the center of the open-air tower, and Quilatalap's former student waited there, coiled and ready to strike.

Zenipeq lorded over her domain, her flowing, frosty form curled into herself like she was a dragon-shaped wraith. She was not exactly a wraith, but if someone made that mistake, it was forgivable. She had been panicking when she had come to Quilatalap, worried out of her mind, but now she was settled and strong; a queen in her own country, which was exactly what she was. Quilatalap still remembered when he found Zenipeq almost 1200 years ago.

She was a dragon who had lost her life in a failed attempt to replicate the powers of the Houses of Ar'Cosmos, casting herself adrift in the mana as a barely-there wraith. Quilatalap helped her come back together because it seemed like the right thing to do, to help a fellow necromancer. When she came back to herself, Quilatalap gave her some small insights into Paradoxing Dragon Essence and Ice Essence.

Zenipeq's second attempt at Paradoxing her way into the powers of the Houses turned out much better, though she still fell short of the ultimate goal of a True Paradox, for she was not a Wizard. Even so, all that meant was a bit of maintenance every few years; to store her magic into a core that she could break later to use her own mana to reinforce herself properly— Quilatalap saw a change in the mana long before Zenipeq did. He said, "She comes."

Zenipeq settled her nerves, her large eyes flashing white and blue as she focused on the air in front of her. She saw it now, too. The mists in the room, which were always under her control, began to swirl outside of her control, like someone was floating invisibly through the windows and into the space. Fairy Moon certainly could have avoided such a display and come in without anyone knowing any better, but she was delivering proclamations today; not murder. Not yet.

Fairy Moon stepped onto the white stone before Zenipeq, her white, pink, and green clothes looking like flowery armor. She was physically smaller than one of Quilatalap's legs, and much, much smaller than the gargantuan form of Zenipeq. The Ice Wraith Queen physically dominated the space, and her ghostly frozen mists spread even further, but no one was fool enough to believe that Fairy Moon wasn't just as powerful." Why have you come to my kingdom, Fairy Moon," Zenipeq demanded to know."

Ultimatums and ultimate ends!" Fairy Moon said, "In accordance with the accords struck between me and the mistress of the Script, all dragons who are dealt the Curse are compelled to come to Ar'Cosmos within the week! No exceptions!" Zenipeq startled, and there was no use in not showing that startling anymore.

"A week! But I thought—" She cut herself off. She had thought they had till the end of the year. Quilatalap had thought that, too. Damn. Zenipeq regained some of her composure, then tried, "I am not a true dragon. I have ascended past the Curse and mortal flesh. I do not count myself among your kind, in any possible way, therefore your bindings have no place upon my person. And I have a kingdom here!" Zenipeq's sorrow finally failed in the face of her anger.

She shouted, "And I have been selling necessary goods to Ar'Cosmos for centuries! I AM DUE MORE RESPECT THAN YOU HAVE GIVEN ME, FAIRY MOON!" She pulled back a fraction, though her anger was now on full display in the rippling ice forming out of her mist, like snowflakes turned to swords and daggers.

"I will remain here, in my place of power, and continue selling to Ar'Cosmos as I have. Rescind your ultimatum, leave, and I will forget this breach of decorum ever happened." It was a good thing composure rarely mattered with the fae, as it usually mattered with everyone else. Zenipeq was losing it. Zenipeq was facing the end of her long rule, though, so all of that was forgivable. Fairy Moon was unmoved by Zenipeq's words, because of course she wasn't.

"A true Paradox needs no preservation while yours requires copious consumption of cores. You could fall and fight with other deadly dragons at any damned time. You have before, you will again, and so—"" The last time I lapsed was 350 years ago!" Fairy Moon continued, "—you are required to return to ancestral Ar'Cosmos." Zenipeg's frost swords faltered. She tried bargaining, "I want a month! Till the end of the year! I heard that is what you were giving everyone else! I want a month." Softer, she said, "Please."

Fairy Moon considered this, then she said what she was always going to say, "No." And then she vanished. Her departure didn't disturb any mist, or make any subtle sound— Quilatalap turned his soul's sights upon the alteration in the air. Ephemeral teeth ripped and tore at foreign magic, and soon, there was no more foreign magic. Fairy Moon had left. Zenipeq collapsed to the floor. Great big tears of frozen death fell from her misty eyes as she breathed out, "Will my flower continue to blossom, once I am gone?

Death Throne encroaches on our fields, always, and the oozes are getting violent, always, and… I don't think I've done enough for my people, Quilatalap. Not nearly enough…" Her voice turned whispery, "The school is still filled with the living… They haven't transitioned yet. I'm going to miss that joyous time." Quilatalap stood from his chair. He was not a harsh man when he did not need to be. Mostly, he tried to be as easy going as he could. But now was not the time to be an easy person.

"Despair if you must over your personal loss, but do not fret for your people; they will be fine. You have built a lasting empire. It is unfortunate that neither of us can remain to see it continue, but truths are sometimes like that." Hope blossomed on Zenipeq's face. She righted herself and stared down at Quilatalap." You could be the king here! They will all fall in line and worship you as their creator if you will allow—"" Nope." Zenipeq dropped her head to the ground again. Quiet tears flowed.

Quilatalap said, "I know myself, and one of those truths is that I am shit at governance. The most I can ever be anywhere is a simple guest with some appointed duties. If you put me in charge of anyone, then one of your people would inevitably ask me for something that I shouldn't give them.

I will, at the time, think that such information would not be harmful at all, and so I will acquiesce. And thus, in 25 years this entire place falls to some cataclysm that I enabled." He said, "If the crusades don't track me down and level this place, first, which is something that That Fae is absolutely going to try, now that she knows I am here and you will not be here to dissuade such attempts." Zenipeg's frozen tears continued to collect upon the ground, piling beside her face.

Quilatalap felt a tug on his dead heart. He didn't like seeing anyone in despair.

"That Fairy is likely only giving you a week so that you can show up before the big rush, so you can claim properties before others." Zenipeg breathed out, "I don't want to be a part of House Death, Quilatalap. They're fine people but... I hate That Fairy." Ah. Well. That was a different problem entirely. Quilatalap hated That Fairy, too, but it was like hating storms or hating the color green; it was best to just stay away from those things if one could.

Zenipeq would do fine in House Death, though, even if she didn't want to— Quilatalap wondered... For the past three months, a certain topic had made its way across the world, and settled into the Fractured Citadels like a rabbit in a den of wolves. From the tallest citadels to the lowest caverns, and even beyond to the Underworld, everyone who was anyone had been in at least one debate about a certain truth, trying to understand how.

How had such a magic happened outside of the Fractured Citadels, this land where Necromancy ruled with a billion skeletal fists? Had someone else come up with that type of magic before? And then hidden it? Or was the Wizard's magic truly so new? What, exactly, was [Reincarnation] doing to a person, and why hadn't they figured out that miracle first? Quilatalap had participated in many of those conversations, himself. And now…"

If you wish to remain in this world, then it is time for you to see Erick Flatt, and to ask for a [Reincarnation]." Zenipeq froze. After a moment, she steeled herself. She rose from her flat position, and gazed to the southeast. Past the Ar'Civ rivers, looking to the sky beyond.

"Do you think he could make a Benevolence Dragon?"" Absolutely. But would he? Doubtful."

"… Then this is the end of my life as a dragon, one way or another. I won't be going into Ar'Cosmos if I can help it." Zenipeq turned back to Quilatalap.

"Will you come with me, my old master? To Candlepoint? If the Wizard should grant my request, would you verify that it is me on the other side of that magic?"" I will do this for you, provided he agrees to the procedure." And while Zenipeq asked for a [Reincarnation], Quilatalap decided that he would ask for a residency at Candlepoint, or wherever. There were few places in the world where Quilatalap could go without attracting a crusade, and Erick's House Benevolence might just be one such location.

He wouldn't know until he tried. Zenipeq lowered her head a fraction.

"Gratitude." Then she rose.

"I will be ready to leave within four hours, if that is acceptable." Quilatalap nodded.

"Best get to moving." Zenipeq took her leave, turning to mist and vanishing out the windows to crash down into the city below like a fog bank. Sentient gargoyle turrets made of ice and death briefly flickered their undead senses at the quick movement of a nearby soul, but then they turned back to ice statues at the verification of Zenipeq. Far below, the Ice Wraith Queen began spreading through her land, controlling the outbreak of the day's big news as she went about preparing the city for her eternal departure.

Theoretically, she could come back here once the Dragon Essence was cleared from her soul and she was reborn again, but she would have to regain her power and her magic in order to be a ruler once again, and she would have to do it without Dragon Essence powering all of her spellwork.

Regaining her baseline power might take a few years if she never misstepped, but the loss of Dragon-based power would put her at the current level of her second in command, and third and fourth and all the way through to at least the eleventh, if Quilatalap was guessing correctly and Zenipeq had not lied about that. She could not rule this land again through power, as she always had. Which meant that she could never really come back. She would be killed within the year, if not on-sight.

And, as she had confessed to Quilatalap in calmer spaces with some enjoyable drink, she could see herself enjoying a new life in a living body. Taking it easy. For a while, at least. Quilatalap stepped forward and gazed across the land. Death Throne was a line of darkness and spikes of the same all across the western horizon, while the ice towers of Frostflower poked up here and there among the somewhat pastoral lands of Zenipeq's domain.

All around this land were the houses and fields of people who used their undead servitors to grow —not [Grow]— quite a lot of semi-magical and magical plants. For half a moment, Quilatalap thought about bringing some plants to grow at his next house, and possibly even at Candlepoint if that option should work out. But then he remembered that he was shit at growing plants. The box for [Grow] might as well have read '[Blight]' for him, as the saying went. But maybe Erick would like a gift?

A gift might make Quilatalap's request for asylum more palatable. And hey! Maybe Erick could use a proper necromancer for his new Wizardly empire? Most places could use an archlich necromancer, in Quilatalap's opinion. People died way too often, in his opinion. Not many places could bring back the dead, and with Erick able to make them actually young again? Well… That would be pretty amazing, right?

Zenipeq had certainly needed his help when he came here, and now this latest batch of students at Frostflower's school was looking to be one of their best graduations yet! At least double the usual amount of successful liches. Quilatalap improved every place he went, or at least he tried. If he went to Candlepoint, and Erick accepted him… What would a world look like without true death, and with eternal [Reincarnation]s for all?

That had been one of Quilatalap's goals when he started learning necromancy, all the way back in the Old Cosmology, back when he had a normal orc body, and not this orcol-thing he currently wore. Perhaps, with Erick's power, such a world would actually be possible! Or, at least, Quilatalap could teach Erick how to [True Resurrection], so that more people knew of that spell.

That plan hadn't worked out so well with Messalina for she had done some strange things to her version of [True Resurrection], but Erick was certainly a better person than Messalina. Erick could do that magic right, and maybe Erick could teach Quilatalap how to [Reincarnation] in return. Quilatalap smiled as he stared out across the world. Yes. It was time to move on. After Ar'Kendrithyst fell, Quilatalap had needed to bum around a few different places, looking for a good fit.

Sometimes Quilatalap's choice simply didn't work for whatever multitudes of reasons, like with the Temple of Shadow's Light and their sudden civil war, or with Zenipeq and Fairy Moon's ultimatum. Ar'Kendrithyst had been absolutely filled with a bunch of people doing terrible things to whoever came inside, not to mention all the monsters, but that land had been the only one that had taken Quilatalap in and then respected him. It was hard to find that sort of stability in this world.

But now that Candlepoint was up and running… Maybe? Quilatalap certainly wasn't going to be a hermit, if he could help it. - - - - Erick was not allowed to visit Spur directly. He could not just appear on the streets, or at his old house as though he still lived there. Firstly, his old house was gone; torn down due to some hateful act by some random group of people months ago. Erick never bothered to look into that, but he was pretty sure it was the Dragon Stalkers.

He had sent them a letter about that, asking them if the rumors he heard were true. They had sent him some threatening letters about working with dragons, but he sent them a threatening letter right back, and then the correspondence stopped. But even if his house had still been there, and intact, he would not be allowed to go there. For foreign kings were different things altogether from foreign archmages, or even Wizards. There was protocol. There was ceremony.

He couldn't enter a foreign nation without being invited, or without requesting an invitation. And so that is how Erick found himself sending a formal letter of request to visit Spur, and receiving a formal denial of that request. Erick stared down at the letter in his hands, having read it a few times now, but still not fully understanding what he was reading. Oh, sure, the words made sense enough. To the Wizard King, Erick Flatt of Candlepoint.

It is the sorrow of Spur that we cannot accept your request to visit at this time. Instead, we would visit you there, in House Benevolence, though it will just be Al and I. Sirocco and Mog are consumed with work at the moment. Let us know what time is a good time and we will make this happen. A contact through Mister Fulisade is acceptable.

-Silverite Erick set down the letter, then glanced out to the Financial District, to the smaller road of Gates which ran parallel to the main Gate Road, but on a road all the way past Mage Bank. It was there that Erick had put the Gate to Spur. Candlepoint had a similar Gate, linking them to the Gate District. That gate lay directly at the end of the north-south road that went up from House Benevolence, and stopped near Mage Bank. Spur's Gate was next to that one.

Spur's Gate, just like Candlepoint's Gate, was as busy as ever, with a bunch of people walking in and out of both sides of the open space, dropping their coins off in guarded boxes if they were individual travelers, or stopping traffic if they had a wide load that needed to come though. Those stops didn't happen too often, for usually people marshaled their goods onto 2 meter wide, and somewhat long [Force Platform]s that could go through the Gate without interruption.

From there, those goods, or those people, either walked to their next Gate, or blipped over to their next Gate, and another set of brief inspections and money collections. There were a lot of people moving back and forth out there. A lot. And there would be more as more and more Gates opened up across the world. Erick looked at the Gate to Spur, and considered [Perfected Polymorph]ing into an orcol, or an incani, or something, and just walking through, and seeing Spur for himself.

He hadn't been there in a long time… But. No. That would be improper. Rude, even. Erick would make a decision about meeting Al soon enough. It hadn't even been five hours since Illustrious Moon's revelation about the exodus of dragons. He had time… Probably. Did Al have time, though? Did Silverite even know why Erick had wanted to meet Al? Erick asked Poi, "Should I have been less circumspect? Just straight-up told her why I needed to see him? And not included the desire to see Mog and Sirocco, too?"

Poi said, "I cannot be certain, for I do not communicate with Spur nearly as often as I used to, but I am of the opinion that Silverite knows exactly what is going on." It was just the two of them in his office at the moment. The sun sat low in the western sky, and while people and goods walked across the Gate District like trails of ants, inside House Benevolence most people were either getting ready to stop for the day, or already stopped, and eating down at the atrium food court.

The Cooks and the servers and otherwise were kicking into high gear, though. A lot of night life was beginning to start, as the shadelings of Candlepoint were starting the second half of their day. A few people were still working hard at House Benevolence, besides Erick. Zolan and a few others were in deep talks with finalizing the Wayfarer's Local Area Gate Network of the Crystal Forest, which was yet another thing that had suddenly decided it needed to happen today, of all days.

Perhaps the Wayfarer's had heard the news of the dragons, too, and they wanted to stop tiptoeing around actually committing to Erick's designs. Erick glanced through Ophiel, to that meeting… He came back. The Wayfarer's Guild wanted their Local Area Gate Network by tomorrow, which was unexpected. Well that was fine? Zolan would probably be out of that meeting in the next half an hour, to come and tell Erick the news. Erick asked Poi, "Do you think the Wayfarer's know— Ah. You couldn't tell me, anyway."

Poi just nodded and continued to stand to the side." Kirginatharp knows."" And everyone who is smart will know that Kirginatharp is probably deep in seclusion, not wanting to accidentally see any dragons when they're migrating across the world."

"… Right." Erick turned his attentions back to the paperwork on his desk. None of the paperwork looked different than normal. Progress reports. Letters of requests for various things, from people all over the world. A few personal letters. Normal, end-of-day reports made by the Office of the Castellan, and the Office of Enforcement.

That second stack was larger than most, for Erick had asked for projections of how much crime a Candlepoint-lake-wide [Zone of Peace] might stop, and Burhendurur had needed to talk to the Guard of Candlepoint, to Guard Captain Slip, in order to actually complete the report. The Office of Enforcement didn't actually enforce over there, inside those city limits. Based on normal incident reports, a true [Zone of Peace] layered across all of the greater Candlepoint area would stop approximately… 2 incidents per day?

1 major incident per week, like attempted murder? Five minor incidents per day in the Gate District? Nothing major ever reported, or seen in the Gate District? That was it? … This land wasn't very populated; that had to be why. Also the Gates were rather heavily guarded and highly respected. Which was sort of unexpected. Erick had expected more crime, but… He supposed that there were only about 6, 000 people living here, in total. Maybe a little more.

It was impossible to count specific people coming and going through the Gate District, but there were about 50, 000 movements through the Gates every day. Some people moved back and forth a hundred times, moving goods here and there, while others just came in once to see what this place was all about, and then they left, spending a quick 2 gold for their time and transport. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

With all that movement, Erick had expected more enforcement-related incidents." Poi. Please inform Silverite that a meeting in an hour is acceptable. Pick a place out of sight of most people, please. I can even meet outside of the city spaces if they want." Poi nodded, and then he sent out a thought tendril. - - - - A stunted tree with shade enough for half a person, stood in the middle of a field of dry grasses.

This land used to be desert, so even this much was a vast improvement over the endless expanse of orange sand, but there was still a long way to go before this land could actually be called 'reclaimed'. In the far distance stood the first of three walls that surrounded this land, separating this sparse greenery from the mimics. Seeing all this, Erick felt he needed to do more to help Kiri and Mox reclaim it all, but this land hadn't been viable for growing anything in a long, long time.

A simple [Exalted Rain Aura] didn't change that. It took time to make something better than it was before. Erick wasn't here to deal with the land. Not right now. He wasn't even technically 'here', in the reality-based sense of the word. He was beyond an open door that stood in the middle of that land, which was not visible unless the viewer was standing at the perfect angle to view it, and they had permissions.

The door was wide open, though, and Erick had told Al where to go, so that was plenty of invitation if Erick had anything to say about it. That door led to a [Fairy Stronghold], where the Wizard sat on a nice, plush chair, alongside a table that held a tea set sized for mixed company, and a tray of cookies. A very large chair and another human-sized chair sat beside that tea table. The room was nothing special, but it was homey. It would serve.

Erick had spent all of twenty minutes getting the place ready for a private talk between himself and Al, and maybe Silverite too if she decided to stick around for any part of it. Erick could have conjured the whole place in less than 30 seconds, but he had found himself continually adding to the space, expanding the Stronghold to make it nicer, or adding flourishes here and there, like different tables or windows, that he thought Al might like.

Erick had also stripped those same flourishes from the space a dozen times over, for frivolous shows of power and skill were not comforting when there was actual worry to be had over world events. Like an exodus of dragons. Erick was just nervous. That's all this was. Poi noticed. He stood to the side of the room, also looking at the door while waiting for Silverite and Al to arrive, but now he turned to Erick.

"Do you want to talk about it? What do you expect to happen here? It might help calm your nerves." Erick instantly gushed, " Is he a dragon?! I don't even know, for sure! All I have are clues and circumstantial evidence. How did he feel when he found out I was a Wizard? Did he want to come chase after me, like all the rest, in order to eat me? Or something? — No. Sorry. Not to eat; to stuff me with Dragon Essence and then twist my soul into something that would make him able to live free in this world? Like!

I thought I knew the guy! I thought I knew dragons! But I didn't! Not at all."" He didn't know you at all, either, so you have that in common." Erick froze.

"… Ah. I suppose so." He mumbled, "I should have considered that position, too. Al never really knew me at all, did he." Poi nodded again.

"And now, they're on their way— Ah…?" A tendril of thought touched him. Poi said, "Silverite is unable to make it. Al is appearing now." Erick chuckled.

"Yeah. I figured that might—" Before Erick could finish his thought, and say that of course Silverite would not be appearing, and that it would just be Al, the man himself appeared on the other side of the door. The orcol looked just how Erick remembered. Tall by human standards, at nearly 3 meters, but rather average for an orcol. Muscular, with brown-green skin; again, rather average, compared to all the other orcols Erick had seen since he first laid eyes on this one. Black hair, black eyes; all normal.

Tusks sticking up from his lower jaw, and if you didn't know him, you would think him dangerous; again, rather average, physically. When Erick had first seen Al, before he knew about the Blessing Of Beauty and Brutality from Aloethag, before he knew about the Rage and about Treehome, and about how orcols could tell if you were looking at them, Erick had thought that Al was one of the most beautiful men he had ever seen.

Oddly enough, not an hour before that meeting, Erick had met Irogh, the Registrar of Spur, and he had thought that Irogh was the most beautiful man in the world. There had been a lot of that in the beginning. Now it was different, of course. Erick knew better. Al still looked the same, though. He probably still smiled a lot, when the weight of the world wasn't bearing down on him, like it was now.

His clothes were still immaculate, as befitting a sewermaster, and especially the sewermaster for a populous and prosperous city like Spur. Those clothes had always reminded Erick of a gangster-sultan, with a lot of pinstripes on charcoal grey. Al was always about clean lines down his body, but with some puffiness here and there. He had the body of a 50 year old orcol, and so he looked as good now as he had when he was 30… He would likely look like this for as long as he wished, though.

Normally, orcols aged gracefully, with their years not truly showing on their faces or their bodies until well into their 80s, and sometimes even past 100 if they kept throwing themselves into the physical rigors of life, and taking care of themselves. Orcols thrived on brutality. But Al was not actually an orcol at all. How had he gotten that body? Through the dragon-based [Perfected Polymorph] route, or did he eat the previous owner?

Al had once said that it was Savral's mother who was the dragon, but that had been a lie, hadn't it? A lie of necessity, for the Dragon Curse certainly did exist, and so did the Dragon Stalkers. Those dragon hunters had probably accosted Al at least once or twice in his life, since they tended to do that to non-dragonkin who had dragonkin children. Those Dragon Stalkers had even pursued and killed Poi's family for much the same—" Ah, sorry, Poi," Erick whispered, while not looking away from Al.

The door was open between Erick and Al, but Al could not see the door, and Erick had not shown him the door yet. Al searched high and low for the door, though, moving back and forth on the grassy sand, looking for that which he knew was here but which he could not see. He was rapidly becoming disgusted with himself. Poi said, "You don't need to apologize for your thoughts, Erick, but you do need to give Al some help finding the entrance."

Al cursed at the sand, and at the air, he was angry at himself and a tendril of thought went away from his head— Erick stepped up and stepped out of the [Fairy Stronghold]— Al saw him, and froze. His tendril of thought broke. A thousand thoughts flitted across Al's face in that moment. A thousand unsaid words whirlpooled through Erick's mind as well, without settling out into coherence much at all. Neither of them had spoken to each other since Erick had left on the Worldly Path, and not even much before that.

They had sort of fallen out of touch when Erick moved into his new house at the Human District and they stopped seeing each other every day… Well. Not 'fallen out of touch'. Not really. Erick had romantically pursued Al, and Al humored Erick for a little while. They had even gone on a date, and fucked in the Red Dream, though that… action… was more a result of fumbling minds and dreaming, than anyone actually meaning for it to happen. They had laughed about it afterward… A little.

They had gone on with their lives a little. But then, it ended. It was easy for Erick to recall their last meaningful interaction. After the Red Dot had fallen, and Caradogh Pogi's hunters had killed a bunch of people all around town, Erick had found Al sitting in the wreckage of the Sewerhouse. His son, Savral, was dead. Al preserved the body in a glass tomb. At Al's request, Erick had asked Messalina for a [True Resurrection] for Savral. A lot of people chose to do that, and a lot of the dead came back to life.

But [True Resurrection] wasn't a perfect spell and Savral had vanished into the desert to try and find himself, to heal from that soul trauma. It was in an orcol bar, with Erick sitting beside Al, enjoying the music and trying to take their minds off of their problems, when Savral decided to return. Savral had walked into the bar, and then into the welcoming arms of his father, and Erick left the two of them behind. And that was one of the last times Erick had really seen Al.

And now, here he was again, and silence stretched. Erick broke the silence, gesturing behind him into the protected space.

"Come in for a chat?" Al stood straight.

"Yes." Erick moved inside, and Al followed. Poi said something about leaving them to it and then blipped away, back home. Ophiel was still here, though, sitting on the back of Erick's chair, quietly whistling in uncomfortable flutes and unsure guitar twangs. Another Ophiel by the door gently swung the door shut. The space was now fully protected from spying… Probably. Moments stretched. Erick broke the silence again, asking, "How is Savral?"" He's doing great." Al said, "It's been a trial since…

Since the murder, but he's finally gotten some help with some Mind Mages in the last four months and… He's a lot better. He had a few rough times with his girlfriend Bacci, too, but that seems to be evening out, and…" His voice trailed off. The two of them stood in silence in the middle of the room.

"… Are you a dragon, Al?" All the wind seemed to fall out of Al's sails.

"Yeah. I am. Are you making Benevolence Dragons?"

"… I don't know about that. Seems like a step I don't want to take." With a soft smile, breaking Al's usually menacing face into something more normal, and yet still sad, Al said, "I don't blame you. Who wants to be around dragons? Certainly not me." Al was still a deflated man, though he was doing his best to hide it. He had come here prepared for Erick to deny him, and yet now that the denial had happened, he still found it impossible.

Now, he was faced with the unenviable choice of dying to Fairy Moon, or leaving behind Veird, to live in Ar'Cosmos for the rest of his life, however long that might be. Could be a long time. Or it could be as short as 'step into Ar'Cosmos and piss off someone in charge, and get gutted within the hour'. With how many dragons Fairy Moon was forcing to come to Ar'Cosmos, and according to what Illustrious Moon had said… And the refugees coming to Candlepoint's lake…

If it wasn't already, then Ar'Cosmos was going to become a bloodbath. Soon. Erick already guessed how that bloodbath would end, though; with Bright Smile in charge, or at least set up to take charge in the future. Erick dismissed his thoughts of Benevolence tangles and asked, "Do you want a [Reincarnation] into your current form? To rid yourself of your Dragon Curse, and [Dragon Body]?"" I'd be dead the next time someone attacked if I wasn't a dragon." Al said, "There are some side effects to being a dragon…

Downsides. But I keep my head down. Haven't met another dragon in a century. Silverite helps keep it that way." Erick tried to come up with another option.

"Do you want me to put in a good word for you in Ar'Cosmos? I'm sure I can… Ensure you get preferential…" He stopped talking. Al was shaking his head.

"No. I'm not going into that small world, even if it is getting bigger. Savral is out here. I think he's going to ask Bacci to marry him and I want to be there for them, and my grandchildren." Dreading the answer, Erick asked anyway, "What are you going to do?"" I don't know. If I could I would organize with other dragons and push back on Ar'Cosmos' demands. We would be fighting that immortal fae, but… We can't even attempt that, because of the Curse."

Al held out one final hope, asking, "Are you going to break the Curse?"

"… I can't. It's too much change. I've already promised not to interfere with that. I'm already doing everything I can for dragons… My offer is [Reincarnation]. I can offer the same to Savral. To Bacci, too, if she wants that. You can all start a new life somewhere else. Maybe in Spur? It's getting big, right? You can lose yourself in… there..." Al sighed. He eyed the large chair sitting beside the table, with the tea and the cookies.

He went over and sat down, then he looked over at Erick, saying, "They don't know I'm a dragon, and I never want them to know either." Erick sat down in his own chair. Al said, "I don't know about [Reincarnation]. Do you have time to talk, Erick?" Erick smiled, saying, "I have all the time in the world. Just let me cast this spell here—" With a twitch of magic, time began to flow differently inside the [Fairy Stronghold] as a [Hasted Shelter] went up within the space.

"—and now ten minutes might pass out there, but we have ten hours in here. Time Magic makes great sleeping magic." A bit of Al's usual brightness came back. He chuckled, then laughed loud, and then sad. He breathed, and said, "You've done a lot more than I ever expected you to do, when you walked into my sewerhouse almost two years ago." His joy seemed to return in full force as he teased, "You couldn't even cast a [Gravity Ward] properly." Erick chuckled.

"You were a shit teacher!"" Bah!" Al laughed.

"I taught perfectly normal Arcanaeum-approved curriculum! Just without all the math. You never liked all the math, anyway."" And I still don't." Erick asked, "So how has Spur been changing since I couldn't go back? I haven't looked. How have you been, Al?" With a softer tone, Al said, "It's been strange, finding out you were a Wizard. The garden committee— those people who worked the replacements for the Farms, the plots of lands around the Human District?

They never stopped supplying Spur with food because your girl Kiri keeps the rains coming, but there were almost [Fireball]s in the streets, oh, tens of times."" Let me guess. Calizi versus Rollo. A fight over some crop or another?"" I thought you hadn't been watching?" Al said, with a smile." I haven't been, but those two were always at each other's throats. That much guessing is easy." Al nodded, saying, "It started with the sugar cactus fields..." Al spoke of small time drama. Erick listened and asked questions.

For a good long while, that is all they did. Erick canceled the [Hasted Shelter] to grab some beer and some food from the restaurants of House Benevolence, then the Shelter went right back up, and for a longer time. Sitting there, eating fried monster chicken tenders and drinking beer with Al, as they each told each other jokes they had heard, was perhaps one of the best times Erick had had in the last few months. It reminded Erick of when the two of them used to go out to eat in Spur. He missed that.

He missed that a lot. They spoke of everything under the sun which was not anywhere near the current crisis, or any big events. Eventually, after several subjective hours (and several real minutes) the conversation drifted down to those heavy topics. Al spoke of his life as a dragon, and what it meant to have [Dragon Body]. They bounced off that topic hard when Al spoke of a Dragon Fight he had had when he was younger, where he killed a hundred people on purpose, and a thousand people accidentally.

It was the opening of an old wound. Erick opened his own wounds when he spoke of Terror Peaks, and the Chelation War. And then… Everything just sort of spilled out of Erick in a horrible mess. All the death he had seen. All the death he had participated in. All the horrors of Veird.

He managed to pull it back a bit when he spoke of all the small wonders here and there, like seeing the White Palace of Stratagold, and the Core, and the adamantium chains of Enduring Forge, and clearing the Forest of Glaquin of moon reachers and deathsoul shrooms. He spoke of fighting monsters with Domains, and ending threats from half a world away for people who came to petition him for help, which he was easily able to give. He spoke of meeting new friends… And reconnecting with old friends.

At that last part, Al's happy demeanor shifted back to something more serious, as though he remembered that they were technically on a clock, even if that clock had been slowed way down. Which was probably exactly what happened. Erick refilled his beer. But Al did not pick it up and drink. Instead, Al said, "I never reciprocated your feelings because I lost my love a long time ago—"" We don't have to talk about that."

"… I know. But I want to explain. You deserve that much. You deserve a lot, Erick, and I cannot give it to..." Al touched his chest, saying, "This person is not who I was. I did… Savral's mother was— Let me back up. And don't interrupt. I have to get this out there and then it'll be said." I've been living in Spur for the last few hundred years, changing forms every so often depending on what positions were open in the town, under Silverite. Usually some sort of guard. Twice before I've been the Sewermaster.

Whatever I could get in order to continue to benefit from Silverite's protections, and in turn, to protect Spur when the need arose. Which I did just fine. Al was a form I adopted in Spur 35 years ago when it was time to remake myself. I invented him completely. He was not the first person I invented, but…" But something stupid happened this time. I messed up my brain, or something, and I fell in love with a woman. An orcol woman named Alaidria. She was an adventurer.

When we first met, she joked that we could be called 'Al and Al' on the wedding cake." Al smiled, and then he lost that smile.

"Eventually Alaidria knew everything about me, even about me being a dragon. Silverite told both of us that it was a stupid risk to go through with the pregnancy, but we went for it, because I was going to stick around and raise the kid even if Alaidria and I had to move away and I needed to change forms to a dragonkin to make Savral make sense. She gave birth to Savral." And then the Dragon Stalkers came down on us, exactly as Silverite had told us they would. Faster than we could have prepared, too.

Silverite protected us as best she could, but…" Alaidria died—" Al spoke solidly, "She was murdered, for she was a Shadow Mage and she pretended to be a black dragon and they all focused on her. I kept my cover." Silence. Erick's mind felt suddenly blank. He had no idea how to respond to that information. Al wasn't done. He said, "There was more to it than that. A cover up. People already hated Alaidria because she was a Shadow Mage and those always get a bad look around Ar'Kendrithyst.

It was easy, in the end, for the unknowing public to believe that the 'evil Shadow Mage who was probably a Cultist, too' had been a dragon in disguise who had 'corrupted the poor sewermaster'. That's what dragons do in all the stories, after all. In public, Silverite ensured that the normal narrative held sway in Spur, but in private she held me when I cried." And that was over two decades ago. I thought I had gotten over it… Several times, actually. After Alaidria, I reverted to what I was before she came along.

I just fucked people, Erick. No love, ever again. Mog was my hope for a stable, new relationship for a long time, but that just didn't work." Al said, "And that's why I couldn't be with you. You're looking for something that I am incapable of giving anymore, because I already gave it all away to Alaidria. Dragons hold on to love trauma for a long, long time." Al breathed in, then said, "And I'm a dragon." Erick sat there for a moment. Al waited. Erick asked, "So you've given up on your life, then?"

Al shifted in his seat, going from melancholy to a little bit angry.

"I'd like it if a Wizard could solve my problems for me, but that's not going to happen." Erick gave Al a flat look, and said, "Okay. So I can tell you are hurting, but for real though. Your pain is 25 years old and —by your own admittance— compounds yearly due to your continued draconic existence. Maybe if you had a mortal body you could leave behind that pain. And I'm still going to be around for a long time, so I can do a [Reincarnation] again for you in 50 years. You never have to be old unless you want it, Al.

You can even become a dragon again if you want to in the next un-Cursed world, whenever that happens. There's no downside to leaving behind your draconic life aside from leaving behind your endless pain! Pain is not a virtue, Al. Pain is just pain. If you can safely set it aside, then you have permission to do so." Al got a dark look.

"Of course you don't fucking understand. I would die without being a dragon, Erick!"" Well I don't want to become a dragon myself in order to make Benevolence Dragons! And you won't die! You would just—"" Stop." Al blinked.

"What? What are you talking about? About you becoming a dragon?"

"… That's how it works, right? I become a dragon, then meld my Wizardry with the Dragon Essence, thus making Essence that is both Draconic and Something Else." For a brief moment, Erick had thought that Illustrious had lied to him about what was needed to make a Benevolence Dragon. But then Al shouted, "You're a damned Wizard! Why do you need rules?!" Illustrious had not lied to him.

Erick tried to be calm as he said, "Because rules delineate how things work, and I am going to follow the rules to ensure that I don't break anything that should not be broken, and I'm certainly not going to mess with the Dragon Curse without Kirginatharp's support and presence." Al's brown-green skin briefly flashed over in black scales, and then he growled and pulled those scales back in, saying, "Don't. Don't say his name." Erick breathed a few times; maybe he should have said 'The Headmaster'.

There was a reason beyond politeness that people used his moniker instead of his name. Al simply breathed, too, but black light flashed in his eyes. After a moment he winced, and stared at the ground.

"This was a mistake. I should have stayed away."" If you think I'm going to endanger the world for one person, then you don't know me at all."" No, Erick. I thought— I thought it would be easy for you. I didn't think that this would be difficult at all! I thought you could just ZAP and then it'd be done, and I could go back to my life as a normal orcol! I could pretend to not be a dragon for a while longer. Maybe I could actually die as a normal orcol, too; of old age and forgetting about the pain of my youth."

What the fuck? Dying of old age? And now Erick was mad.

"You've already given up, haven't you? Completely!"" Well I've certainly given up now."" Gods dammit, Al. You gave up when Alaidria was murdered, didn't you?"

"… I have not," Al said, lying." You're not allowed to give up, Al. As your friend I demand you think my offer of [Reincarnation] over for a day or four. Okay? You can stay here or I can make you a home on Yggdrasil—"" No. I can't. I've already thought it over and if you cannot help then I must… I must do something drastic."" Do you even know what that 'something' might be?"" Yeah! Find a way to kill that fae who demands this of us dragons!""

Might as well try to kill the stone under our feet; all you ever do is end up moving it around, and if you're not careful, you bury yourself." Erick said, "You told me that one time."" Look. I can't stay here, anyway. You think I'm the only dragon coming to see you? No. I haven't seen any others and I don't want to know if there have been others, but I will not start a fight in your lands." Al said, "And I need to get my things in order. Settle debts. Set up Savral for the rest of his life.

Attempt to take down that fairy."" Al. Please." Erick said, "Don't do anything drastic until the last possible minute, and please think of my offer. Don't just dismiss it out of hand. At least consider it—" Erick had a thought.

"And I do not want to give you false hope, but I might have other options opening up. I don't know what those options are, but they might work. DO NOT do anything you cannot undo. Okay? Please, Al." Al looked lost. And then Erick got really mad.

"You just dropped this fucking shit on my lap and expect me to clean up your mess but also fuck up the entire balance of the entire world! And for fucking what! So you can be stronger than the people around you! So you can hold onto your pain! That's bullshit, Al. FUCKING BULLSHIT. So you will WAIT. And you will SEE. And I will TRY to see if I have other options than [Reincarnation] or LETTING YOU COMMIT SUICIDE!" Al gained a faint smile—" Don't you fucking smile at me you fucking selfish piece of shit.

Go home, Al. And DON'T DO ANYTHING STUPID, ASSHOLE." Al said, "Thank you, Erick." And then Al left with a blip of black magic. He was probably experiencing some minor time-decompression sickness for leaving like that, but FUCK HIM. He was fine. For a long moment Erick just stood there in the [Fairy Stronghold], seething. When he had calmed down enough he canceled all the magic around him and stepped away, through the light and about 75 kilometers away, to his next destination.

- - - - The True Interfaith Church of Candlepoint loomed before him like a gothic white and black edifice to divine power. The large doors were open, inviting all the world to come and see the gods, and to hear the good word. A few people were coming out of the church. They looked like adventurers, with mismatched armor and magical items on their belts, and twitchy hands that reached for weapons in scabbards. They were foreigners on an investigative mission.

Erick had seen many people like them come and go from Candlepoint, even from way before he ascended to power in this land. He saw adventurers all the time back in Spur, too. Back when Erick was living at Spur, when adventurers saw him they got a shock of recognition and then smiles and bows happened. This time the adventurers recognized Erick (mostly Ophiel on his shoulder) and one of them screamed 'Wizard!'

All of them rapidly vanished in a coordinated splash of [Teleport], likely all of them headed toward some prearranged destination. Whatever! An acolyte of the church, who had been trailing the adventurers to make sure they didn't do anything stupid, heard the cry of 'Wizard'. That guy was much more respectful to Erick. He apologized on behalf of those who didn't know any better. Erick halfway-ignored the acolyte and walked inside.

Any other day, Erick would have wanted to strike up a conversation with the acolyte, and then with all the priests who came running as soon as they heard that Erick was nearby. He could not, though, and there was nothing dangerous happening right now besides Erick's own presence. He acknowledged the acolyte's efforts with some curt words, though, then said a few small words of greeting to the priests who came out to see him.

He tried to be personable with the various parishioners who came out of nowhere to see him— He excused himself and continued on into the back. Toward the hall of the gods, where each god had a space dedicated specifically to them. Erick was on a mission. He was going to find a solution to letting certain dragons stay on Veird without resorting to curing the Dragon Curse, or [Reincarnation], or dealing with Fairy Moon. It was probably time for him to come here, anyway; he had been putting this off for months.

And he had to talk to Melemizargo about Shadow's Feast, to make sure nothing bad was going to happen.