108 – Ember

“The what,” the Sorceress said.

“The, er, dragon, my lady,” Soren repeated, shifting in his seat. “I take it that means you were unaware of the situation?”

“There’s a dragon. In Prismarche. Looking for me.”

“Not that she’s claimed to be one,” he hedged. “But yes.”

The demon paused. Her bored tone took on a hint of incredulity. “You think there’s a dragon? You don’t know for certain?”

“Er. Technically no. But circumstantial evidence is rather abundant, it’s not a claim I would throw out flippantly, my lady. I have very little doubt.” He hesitated. “Though I should have made the ambiguity clear from the start.”

“Circumstantial evidence like what?”

“She’s rather… obvious… with her words and actions. She most certainly is not a gold rank like she’s claiming to be.” He started to doubt himself, then remembered all of the reports he’d gotten. He shook his head. “I think you’ll understand as soon as you meet her, Lady Vivisari. She should still be at the Adventurer’s Guild.”

“What does she look like?”

The question gave him pause. Did it matter what the dragon looked like? As if there was some dragon in particular she was expecting?

The thought had been sarcastic, but, with a twitch, he recalled yet again that this was the Sorceress. She likely did know several dragons by face and might be expecting one.

“Young human woman, in her early twenties,” he finally answered. “Perhaps a tad younger than that. Long gray hair, black plate mail, two-handed sword. All of it encrusted with gems.” Part of that ‘circumstantial evidence’ he’d been talking about—not even the most pompous ‘gold-rank adventurers’ of noble lineage walked around with half a city’s wealth embedded in their armor and weapons.

“Eye color?” the Sorceress asked.

“Orange.”

“Gray hair, orange eyes.” She breathed in, one of the more obvious physical reactions she’d given so far, and that made Soren suddenly nervous. “Okay. I’ll go see what’s happening with that, too, then.”

“…excellent.” Soren pushed down his curiosity. It was the job of a Guard Captain to keep himself informed, but matters between dragons and heroes of legend were something he would rather not involve himself and the city guard in. “Let me know if you need anything, Lady Vivisari. We’ll begin clearing out the town square. Should be ready within the hour, as I said.”

“Thank you. That’s it?”

“Yes, my lady.”

Without lingering, she turned and left, her apprentice shadowing her.

Soren leaned back and let the tension of the meeting drain from him. That hadn’t been so bad. Just… there went the Sorceress, off to speak with a dragon.

He closed his eyes and prayed that the city wouldn’t be on fire before next bell.

***

Once Vivi stepped out onto the street, thankfully free from the guardhouse and all the staring eyes within, Saffra immediately snorted at her side.

“Ha. A dragon?” the catgirl said. “Not going to make that mistake again. What do you think it really is, Lady Vivi?”

Taking a casual pace through the streets toward the Adventurer’s Guild, Vivi mulled over the question. She was unsure how to answer.

“Because it can’t be a dragon,” Saffra insisted. “I know there’s stories about that kind of thing, but they’re just stories.” She stole a hesitant look at Vivi. “…right?”

“It’s very rare,” Vivi half-agreed. “They’re isolated to the Sky-Pillar Range by the Dragon King’s own decree. That doesn’t mean no one will ever disobey him, doubly so for wild dragons.” Since not every dragon evolved human levels of intelligence, only some.

Saffra seemed pleased by Vivi’s answer. Vivi could imagine why, and it was an entertaining enough idea that she had to stifle a smirk. Probably, the girl was taking satisfaction in how if even the levelheaded Guard Captain of Prismarche had jumped to the outrageous explanation of ‘dragon in disguise,’ then surely her own embarrassing misconception earlier—having mistaken Vivi for one—hadn’t been that silly after all.

“That said, I imagine exceptions do happen,” Vivi said idly as they walked down the busy street. “Official business, sanctioned expeditions for one reason or another. She is looking for the Sorceress.” That seemed like a mission the Dragon King might allow under the right circumstances.

“She’s looking for the mysterious mage who was in Prismarche two weeks ago,” Saffra pointed out. “If she wanted the Sorceress, wouldn’t she be in Meridian?”

Vivi conceded the point. “I’m really not sure what’s going on. We’ll find out soon.” The description the Captain had given was what gave Vivi the most pause about this situation. Gray hair and orange eyes. Surely not?

She shook her head to clear it. “The Guard Captain doesn’t seem like someone to jump to conclusions.”

“Yeah… but she’s not a dragon,” Saffra said. “I mean, if she was, and she’s here on official business, then there’s no way she’d have given herself away that fast. Apparently, it took like two days for the city guard to be ‘almost certain’ she’s a dragon. That would be wildly incompetent, right? Something else is going on.”

Another compelling piece of logic, Vivi had to admit. But dragons were just people like everyone else, and everyone had their flaws.

Heck, it wasn’t like Vivi could count secrecy among her strengths.

***

Vulkarius is going to eat his words when I see him next, Embralyne thought smugly. Really, ‘not the best with subtlety,’ he says? Hah! I’m practically one of them already.

The author’s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Indeed, she had taken on this human persona with the unparalleled expertise she displayed in all things. She’d spent a full three days in this city, mingling with its people, and nobody had the slightest inkling of who she was, much less what she was. Her stealth mission so far could be described as nothing short of a dazzling success.

As if anything except success were possible when she, Princess Embralyne Valeriana de Caldaros, was involved.

“And so there I was, three Mirewalker Bears surrounding me, having appeared as if from thin air. One working arm, half-delirious and barely able to stand, with nothing but a shattered sword and my wits,” she said gravely, sweeping her gaze out across her audience and savoring the way they hung on her every word. Not only was she a master at blending in with these mortals, but she could charm them effortlessly, too.

She took a long drink from her tankard, letting the tension of her last statement build. Like all of the stories she’d shared, the core of the tale was true, though she’d changed the details to make sense for her human identity—yet more proof of her unequaled skill in subterfuge, thinking on her feet so readily.