B3 – Chapter 31: Finding the source

Tristan got up and after taking a quick dip in the root-pool in his chambers, he geared back up and headed outside.

Felicity was a few minutes behind him, and as he got outside she landed atop his head and began making her paw-claw biscuits. “What now?” she asked.

“I think we should head back to the Citadel,” Tristan replied, “And we should check in with Eloise. It’s only been a little over a day, but I want to see if she has found anything about where the assassins are located.” His expression firmed, and his voice was more resolute. “We need to stop these attempts.”

“No unicorns, then,” Felicity said as she flopped prone, dangling her legs on the sides of his head as her tail swished and tickled the back of his neck.

“I don’t think so. We need to get Rory and Bertram if they want to head back.”

Felicity looked over to a few other fairy dragons lounging nearby, “Hey! Seen the half-brother?”

“Nope!”

“I think they were fucking with some nymphs.”

“I heard them arguing with the gnomes!”

“We sent them on a scavenger hunt.”

“Eat shit.” That last one sounded quite angry, and Tristan locked eyes with the fairy dragon.

Felicity giggled, “That one is Deckard. He’s just mad about my taking his horn!” The fairy dragon huffed and flew off. Felicity sighed, “It just hurt his pride. That I beat him in a wrestling match and got away with a trophy.”

Tristan shook his head, “We’ll check with the gnomes first.” He pointed to the fairy dragons in order, “You, go check the Summerbalm Springs. You, go to wherever you sent them on this scavenger hunt.”

“I was only kidding!” the one who mentioned the scavenger hunt replied. The one he had pointed at who had commented about the nymphs lifted off and zipped across the sky on their duty.

Tristan walked past the remaining fairy dragons and headed to where the gnomes were – hard at work at all manner of crafts. The stalls had filled out nicely with plenty of products: garments, weapons, armor, jewelry, potions, and starberry mixed with clearcool. The latter two, Tristan paused at and performed the Infuse Elixir spell, also taking a few flasks of the clearcool elixir for emergency rations if needed.

He ended up finding Bertram and Rory, sitting and drinking starberry wine. Grandfather Hurvun was there, as well, and they were regaling the gnomes with their dragon hunt stories. Everyone looked over as Tristan walked up, and the gnomes dipped their heads briefly.

Bertram stood up and looked Tristan up and down. “Did you get taller?”

“Just a bit,” Tristan said as he held up his index finger and thumb, leaving a little gap to emphasize how miniscule the height change was. “I was able to beat The Matriarch in sparring, so I’m pretty sure I could kick your ass anytime.”

Bertram cracked a smile, “I would take you up on that, but I’m a bit tipsy.” He gestured to the ring of stones that had been carved into various single person and two-person seats, “Going to join us?”

Hurvun raised a flask, “It’s pretty damned good stuff! Not as much potent alcohol-”

One of the gnomes interrupted, “We’re working on that, you old fart.”

Hurvun looked back to the gnome who had spoken, “You’re calling me old? Aren’t you all basically immortal? Hmm?”

Tristan just shook his head as his grandfather got into an argument with the gnome about age, and focused on Rory who was decked out in new clothes that were quite flattering. “Did you both get armor and weapons sorted?”

Rory nodded, “I didn’t think I needed an upgrade, but after seeing some of what these fellows can do, well, I’d be a fool not to take up your charitable offer of custom gear.”

Bertram pointed to a stall a few feet away, “Got it on a rack in there. Want to see?”

“Sure,” Tristan replied as he followed his brother. “I also was going to head back to the Citadel.”

“We’ll stay here for now,” Bertram replied. “Going to spend some down time after that Wild Realm hunt. Just don’t take too long, eh? It’s going to be another…gods…thirty-five days until the one-week Realm portal opens.”

“I’ve lost track of the days,” Tristan said as he reached into his hip pouch for his small Omnitome, and flipped to the front. Fifth of Wither Season, he thought as he snapped it shut.

Bertram gestured through the open stall entrance and to the armor and weapon racks. The suit of armor he walked over to was similar to Tristan’s, but lacked his ornamentation. “They insisted I not be as fancy as you.” He went to a weapon rack and drew a massive sword – just like grandfather Hurvun’s. “I actually needed someone to do the Dragon’s Doom spell on this.” He held the weapon, hilt first, to Tristan. “Mind doing the honors?”

Tristan went to the bracers and fuddled around with them, finding that they had small, hidden rods just like his armor. “I’ll do you one better,” Tristan replied. “Lets get all the layers separated out, and I’m going to get you kitted up just like me.”

The next few hours Tristan spent spinning and reverse-spinning his crucible as he set up Bertram’s armor with the same set of spells he had access to. The whole setup was identical – including the sword.

He did the same for Rory’s new armor; scale armor minus the protective plates, a large shield which could be spun to change its size, and a collapsible spear. He was able to put all but the rod-based, offensive spells into the items.

“This is…wow,” Bertram clapped a hand on his shoulder pauldron, “You’ve really gone above and beyond for us.”

Tristan reached up and scratched the now-sleeping Felicity’s head between her antlers, eliciting a tail wag from her. “It’s not a problem at all.”

Bertram’s face was serious, and he made sure Tristan was fully facing him. “I don’t like owing people any-”

“I’m stopping you right there,” Tristan replied cutting him off. “We are family. I’ll keep you safe as best I can.”

Bertram nodded curtly and the duo headed back to the circle of now riotously drunk people. “Enjoy the Citadel. Don’t spend too long without coming to get us!” he sat down next to Rory, whispered in her ear, and she looked to Tristan with a nod as she raised her tankard.

Tristan gave his grandfather a slight hug from above before going to the dirt circle in front of the Queen’s Wood. Someone had decorated the area, marking out a large circle with gem-studded stones – he assumed the gnomes’ doing. Spinning his crucible, he traveled back to The Mortal Realm.

He appeared in front of his room, and Felicity let out a big yawn. “What’s the plan?” she asked.

“I’m going to go to the Archive really fast,” Tristan replied. “You go check in with Eloise, and bring her over to me.”

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“Got it!” Felicity vanished from his head with a little pop noise.

Tristan had already been spinning his crucible, and he poured the energy into his student pin as he activated the stored Limited Teleport spell, appearing on one of the arrival platforms in The Archive.

Heading over to the Archivist’s table, he joined the small queue of people until he was at the front and speaking to Betty. “Hey there.”

He did not hear anything in his head, despite the eye looking over at him. It squinted, and then a phantasmal tendril floated down, grabbed a pen, and began scribbling on paper before him at blinding speed.

Your mind cannot be interacted with. Drop your defenses.

“I…urm…I don’t think I can,” Tristan said sheepishly. “I drank juvenile mind dragon blood, so I’m resistant to mind spells.”

Irritating, she wrote back. But, ultimately a useful skill and only irritating in that I have to devote a slight bit of energy to writing right now. I could break through your defenses if I had a mind to, but it would take most of my focus. What is it you want?

“I need mind spell books and water elementalism as well.”

She began scribbling a map of the archive with a message below it, I cannot interact with your mind anymore, so no more highlighted tomes. Look for these reference numbers.

“Thank you,” Tristan replied as he grabbed the map.

She grabbed another piece of paper and kept writing, I did get word back from a friend of mine in the Heavenly Realm. A heaven dragon, which would give you rejuvenation as a spell type, is near death from old age. She has lived for millennia, and has agreed to being slain in the presence of her Realm’s Protector.

Tristan was caught off guard by that, and just froze in place as he processed what Betty had written. Someone is just willing to die? He thought. I mean…I guess…if I were old and suffering and ending myself meant that I could help someone else… “Thanks for inquiring,” Tristan said. “I need to think on that.”