Butchering the dragon was relatively quick, all things considered. Hurvun mentioned that de-scaling the dragon was the most time consuming part, but this creature they could just make some cuts and peel the weird, serpent-like skin away. There were not claws, but the teeth were worth harvesting and those were really easy to cut out – Tristan just had to slash apart the mouth with his blade and then they would dry the jaws out to pry the teeth loose.

  There was a lot of meat. A ludicrous amount. Easily five-hundred pounds. Felicity shook her head, “I am not putting that inside of my storage dimension! No way! The skin, sure, because we can use that for crafting something maybe. Same with the jaw and those teeth. But we are not just taking hunks of meat!”

  Hurvun began to make an argument, but Tristan cleared his throat. “Grandfather, if she said no, she means no. Just haul as much as you can on your back. Felicity, would you please pull out the burlap sacks from storage?”

  She did so, and Tristan scooped up huge chunks of the bendy flesh, shoving it into the bags until they were full to the brim and barely able to be tied off. Hurvun hefted one bag, and he hefted the other as the older man clambered out of the pit up the rope. Tristan waited until he reached the top, and then looped the end around his foot before tugging a few times.

  A few minutes later and his grandfather, alongside to Tristan’s surprise, a few of the half-Broxtar, had hauled him up. “These fine folks are going to accompany us down the mountain path,” he stated.

  Tristan handed the meat sack to one of the townspeople and followed them on their descent from the heights. During their walk back, Hurvun explained how Tristan would de-scale and de-claw a dragon that was more traditional. “What you would do normally with the claws is what we did with the jaw. You take off the whole foot at the ankle joint, then cut away until you have the claw and meat of each ‘finger’ of sorts. Let the flesh dry, then you can peel it away and get your prize. Scales are trickier, and the hide under cannot be harvested until you get through the scales. The easiest way is to keep them joined together.”

  “How would you get to the flesh, then? I imagine you’d have to deglove the whole thing, then let the flesh dry out before peeling off the scales.”

  “Through the ass, son.”

  Tristan almost retched and Felicity did retch – splattering the mountainside behind them. “Seriously?” Tristan asked as he choked back his vomit.

  “It’s where you can make the biggest incision before peeling it away like we did with the demonic dragon down below.”

  The idea was revolting, but then a thought raced through Tristan’s mind. “You said you’d never seen a dragon like this, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “And you’re probably the most learned person besides a scholar on dragons, right?”

  “Yes…where are you going with this?”

  “How did the king’s scout know what a demonic dragon looked like?”

  Hurvun opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again. “I…huh…that is strange. How would one of the king’s scouts know what it looked like. And why would the king’s scout, normally someone who finds game locations for hunting journeys, be this far abroad?”

  Tristan glanced down at his amulet, “I’ll bring up our concerns with the Archon when he next contacts me.”

  “Same here.” Hurvun clapped his hand onto Tristan’s shoulder, “You did good, slaying a dragon all on your own. Granted, it was not a real dragon like the ones from the Elemental Realms.”

  “I’ve told you; I killed one of those.”

  “Yes, but from what you told me, it was mostly essence-weaving that did the trick, and you could only do it because you were in the Fey Realm.”

  “…It had a means of regeneration,” Tristan mumbled.

  After reaching the town below, Tristan channeled essence into the ring and transported the survivors to the Fey Realm. They were escorted to their companions, and both Tristan and Hurvun washed up before the latter went to join the half-Broxtar people for a feast primarily consisting of roasted dragon meat. Tristan chose to linger behind, as he wanted to meditate.

  Going up to the top boughs, he went to one of the open platforms and sat down. Felicity flew over and landed next to him. “Probably not a smart idea,” Tristan said as he glanced over at her. “I tend to freeze the area around me when I go into my inner world.”

  “Oh, you’re doing that now?” she asked with some enthusiasm.

  “Yes. The Matriarch said it was a good way for me to practice, and she has been right thus far.”

  She sat down and nodded, “Well…I’ll leave you be, then.” She flew off towards the distant sounds of revelry.

  Tristan sighed and began reverse-spinning the top half of his crucible as he spun the bottom half normally. He felt the pulsing of the Realm all around him as he sucked in the ambient essence and pushed it out at the same time. Closing his eyes, he practiced the breathing technique that The Matriarch had taught him, and envisioned his essence crucible.

  He could see the silvery core crisscrossed with three lines – the crimson and gold intertwined, the icy-blue, and a new, smoky-black line. He felt himself sink deeper and was inside of his inner world.

  Walking over to the tree, he saw that the second ring was full, and a little bit of progress to the third ring had been made. But, the increased essence capacity between the second and third ring was a large distance. Far more than the distance between the first and second. No wonder grandfather never got past Second Order spells, he thought.

  Placing his hand on the tree, he spoke softly. “I want to know if you can show me the different spell types I have access to. If that’s something that my essence crucible can do.” He felt kind of silly, talking to a tree that was surely just a manifestation of his bloodline within his essence crucible. Why am I asking for it to do that? Tristan thought, when I could just order it? He cleared his throat as no change was apparent on the tree. “I order you to show me a list of the spell types I can use.”

  The circles that were filled with the silvery light were gouged instantly; small channels appearing in the flowy language of Elvish that instantly translated within Tristan’s mind thanks to his bloodline and heritage. Dragonbane, ice elementalism, illusion, flora, imbuement, artifice, enchantment, fortune, fire elementalism…and smoke elementalism? Huh. Maybe I would have also gotten enchantment if I did not already have it? He pulled away from the tree, “Thanks.”

  He went around the perimeter of the crucible, finding dents and smoothing them out with his hands, feeling a warm sensation in his torso as he did so. It took more time than hammering them out, but he was not in a rush. Eventually, when he had found all of the dents possible, he focused on returning to the waking world.

  Opening his eyes, he saw that the platform was crusted with ice as he had expected. Standing, he looked out and saw the bonfires had begun to die out. Felicity was lounging on a branch nearby and flew down to land on his head. “Come on! Off to the bath for you! I’ll go ahead and tell them to make it nice and hot.” She flew off and dove into the center of the tree.

  Tristan followed down the spire and passed his grandfather and The Matriarch who were passing by on the way up. “Your grandfather expressed interest in the night sky,” The Matriarch said softly. “Goodnight, Lord Tristan.”

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  “Goodnight,” Tristan replied as he kept descending. Eventually he reached his chamber and saw to his delight that the tub was full of boiling hot water. Stripping out of his armor and clothes, a few fairy dragons flew in and took the clothes away to launder, whilst his armor was being polished and scrubbed clean. The same with his sword.

  Felicity was curled up on the bed, opening an eye once Tristan got into the tub. “What was it like, drinking a dragon’s blood?”

  “It was…fine?” Tristan replied. “It was not fun or enticing, for sure. But something that needed to be done. Especially since it gives me resistances to spell types.”

  She nodded and shut her eyes, “And you gained a new spell type, from what your grandfather said at the party. It was not a very fun one, by the way. Just lots of conversing around the firelight and a bunch of roasted meat. Yuck.”

  Tristan nodded, “Broxtar are renowned storytellers. It makes sense that their children would take after them in that regard.” He luxuriated in the hot water, closing his eyes and relaxing.

  “Pardon us, Lord Tristan.” He opened his eyes and saw a pair of fairy dragons who were flapping just above him. “Your water is very dirty. May we refill it?”

  Tristan looked down. Ah, right. All the blood and gore. He dunked his head under the surface to scrub free as much as he could before he got out of the tub. Glancing at the pool nearby, he shrugged and lowered himself into it, feeling the smooth bowl along the bottom.

  Felicity was staring at him, her tail swishing back and forth. Her head was resting on the bed still, “What’s it like?”

  “Hmm?”

  “A hot bath. We don’t take them.”

  “Oh. Well…it’s quite soothing and relaxing.”

  “Can I try when it’s refilled?”

  “Sure,” Tristan said as he enjoyed the lukewarm water of the pool.

  When the tub was refilled, Felicity flapped over before switching to her elfanoid form and dipped her toes into the surface. “Ouch!” she pulled her foot out and immediately ran over to the pool, shoving her foot into it. “How can you bathe in that?!”

  Tristan chuckled and hefted himself out of the pool before sinking into the luxuriantly warm waters, “Fire dragon blood,” he replied. “Gives me resistance to heat.”

  She pulled her toe out of the pool and knelt next to the tub, resting her head on it and looking at Tristan’s face. “Are you okay?” she softly asked.

  “I am,” Tristan replied. “Just concerned. The king’s scout knew what this dragon we were hunting was, but not even grandfather had seen one before.”

  Felicity frowned, “Wasn’t the kingdom of Bhant founded by a Demonkin who led his people to found a kingdom in the Mortal Realm?”

  “That’s right.”

  “What if someone in the king’s court brought the thing into the Mortal Realm? Loosed it in a nearby region to destabilize it for expansion. For all we know, it could have been working for the king and softening a military target.”

  Tristan frowned, “That…makes sense if the king wanted to expand. But he doesn’t seem like the type to desire an expansion of his holdings.”

  Felicity shrugged, “Just a thought.” She walked over to the bed and laid down on it, kicking her legs up and down in little flutters.

  Tristan pondered the idea. I’ve met King Arinclex VIII a few times during court visits. He seemed a reasonable man. He never came off as aggressive, or hostile, and the kingdom doesn’t need to expand. There’s no need for housing, or more farmland – and even then, the Gredo Expanse is not suited to farming. It’s just a bunch of mountains! And it’s not like it’s a united region, just disparate city-states which are loosely affiliated. Even if the kingdom needed to mine resources, they could just find some section of the mountains away from the city-states and do it there.

  He looked up at the ceiling and tried to follow the pattern of the roots with his eyes before losing the pattern in the tangle. I…I just don’t know. Hopefully the Archon has some insight.

  He got out of the tub and dried off with one of the leaves, making sure to keep himself covered up. “Um, Felicity? Mind letting me have my bed?”

  She looked up at him, “Please, it’s not like I haven’t seen that before.” She shifted shape into her fairy dragon form and grabbed one of his pillows, taking it to the corner of the bed and fluffing it before curling up on it.

  Tristan got under the covers and closed his eyes. There was no noise, save for the slight breathing of Felicity nearby. He tried to fall asleep, and eventually, sleep found him.

  The next morning Tristan, Felicity, and Hurvun took the horses out of The Fey Realm and rode along the mountain paths to a nearby city about a half-day travel from Pass Hold’s ruins. Tristan returned to the Fey Realm while his grandfather explained the situation to the people in the town of Parson’s Mine.

  In the Fey Realm, and handful of the half-Broxtar asked for permission to stay in the fantastic place, and Tristan looked to The Matriarch for guidance, but she shrugged. “It is your domain, Lord Tristan. You decide.”

  “What long term effects would it have on them?”

  “I do not know. No non-Elves have stayed in the Fey Realm. But, as long as they are not essence-weavers, they should not disrupt the environment too much.” Her visage darkened slightly as she tilted her head forward and lowered her voice to a whisper. “If an essence-weaver spends too long here…the portions of the Fey Realm that are sealed off may awaken once more.”

  That sentiment sent a chill through Tristan. “I do not believe any of them are essence-weavers. I choose to allow those who wish to stay, to stay,” Tristan replied as he looked out over the crowd. “Those who wish to stay, speak with The Matriarch here regarding getting yourselves more permanent shelter, and perhaps some idea as to how you can help efforts here in the Fey Realm. I will warn you, though, we don’t have meat. Just starberries. Cooked up? They taste like a good, juicy beef steak.”

  There were sounds of assent, many thanks sent his way, and a few small goodbyes – but it only looked as if single adults were staying. And one family. But the rest desired the Mortal Realm, and Tristan grouped them together for transport. As they gathered around, he pondered on The Matriarch’s warning. She has mentioned that parts of the Fey Realm are sealed off. I will need to ask her what is sealed away, and how to approach it.

  When Tristan returned with the people from Pass Hold, he was approached by Chaun who bowed deeply, “Thank you, Lord Tristan. I asked your Matriarch for permission to work at a forge, and she escorted me up to the top boughs of your tree. I know, I know, you had asked we not go there…but I had to do something to repay your kindness.”

  He produced an item wrapped in a well-worn cloak, and revealed it. A shining, steel maul that looked like the one Tristan had been training with in the Fey Realm. “Everyone pitched in a bit,” he said, holding up a necklace with a series of metal rings interlaced through it. “We all had bits and pieces of metal from falling stars; we gather them up each year during the Dark Season. We smelted them all together and…here it is.”

  Tristan lifted the two-handed hammer reverently. The grip was wrapped with the Demon Dragon skin, which gave it a slightly bumpy texture which would let him keep a solid grip no matter where along the length he grasped it. “Thank you,” he softly said as he looked at the lustrous, almost-glowing-silver metal.

  “You’re welcome. We did not have enough for your grandf-”

  “I’m too old for new gear,” Hurvun replied as he walked over. “But thank you. Come on Tristan, we should head back to the kingdom and report our success.”

  Tristan said some brief goodbyes and mounted up as the two rode back towards the kingdom of Bhant. His amulet began vibrating, and he pulled it out from his armor. “I’m here.”

  “Have you dealt with the beast?” Archon Grimtome asked.

  “Yes,” Tristan replied. “A demonic dragon. Tell me, how did the king’s scout know what it was, when my grandfather did not even know?”

  “A question I asked myself. I am privy to all of the king’s council meetings, and there are, indeed, talks of expansion. I fear that some essence-weaver intentionally tore open a rift to the Demon Realm and brought the creature to the Mortal Realm, intent on destabilizing the region.”

  Tristan grimaced, “The king summoned such a creature?”

  “It was not him, I’m sure of that. I have divined as much. But…I tried to divine whoever wanted to destabilize the region, but I was blocked. Logos, the Realm Protector of the Thought Realm, whom I must appease with essence as I use spells to tap into that place, was not sated with my offering. Which means someone else offered him more to prevent the knowledge from getting out. There are few who have a larger essence capacity than me in this world; let alone the kingdom. It could very well be a setup.”

  “Another region seeking to destabilize the kingdom by throwing us into a war with the city-states of the Gredo Expanse,” Tristan reasoned.

  “Once more you show profound wisdom despite your young age. Yes, I had the same idea. It would not be the Sapphire Coast, as we have good relations with their ruler. But perhaps one of our island neighbors to the south? Maladonia or Schlarz, perhaps? Or even the continent to the east; there are dozens of smaller kingdoms there who would benefit from conquering our bountiful farmlands.”

  Tristan knew the islands from maps alone. Maladonia was the island directly to the south, and Schlarz was the island beyond that. Both were large – easily a third of the size of the continent of Gvand where the kingdom of Bhant was located. “Time must run short.”

  “Shit. I ran ou-”

  Tristan put the amulet back under his chest plate as his grandfather fielded his own message from the Archon. He filled in Felicity on what was discussed, and his grandfather finished his own conversation before letting the amulet down. “What do you think, grandfather?”

  “I think it is Schlarz. Half of the year the southern half of the island is fully inaccessible. They are almost fully reliant on their fishing culture for their food. Taking farmland would make them less reliant on trade and have more reliable food over the Dark and Freezing Seasons.”

  “They don’t sound very nice,” Felicity said. “But who can blame them? Living somewhere cold all the time sounds horrible!”

  “Not a nice place to visit,” Hurvun replied. “Come on, son. Let’s pick up the pace. It’s mostly downhill, and we can let the horses really stretch their legs when we are on flatter, more forgiving roads.”