Melia the Magnificent

Ellesea’s first attempt to [Enchant] a [Flying Carpet] ended in abject failure. Melia could smell the despair wafting from the girl, and no matter how much she tried to comfort her, reassuring her that they had plenty of materials to try and try again, she was nearly inconsolable. A very dim silver lining came in the form of a small pile of [Glimmering Essence], a type of [Disenchanting] material generated from breaking down high-level magical gear. While in no way equal to the value of the destroyed materials, receiving the dust was like winning a very small consolation prize.

Melia was not discouraged in the slightest, and took the opportunity to practice more [Tailoring]. She studied Ellesea’s rendition of her family crest, and while the thought of adding a dragon because she’d come into the girl’s life was slightly embarrassing, Melia wanted to give it her all. Sewing and stitching fabrics together, when not part of a defined recipe, was surprisingly different from [Tailoring] a pattern from her book. Not necessarily harder, but different. The fun part about using such exotic materials was that by incorporating [Glimmerweave] as the embroidery thread, Melia could make the dragon really come to life.

Like, really look like it was living inside a tapestry!

The first time she tried adding the dragon to the [Carpet], she made it static. It was unmoving, and if she was honest, somewhat bland. The second time she infused the thread with magic so that the dragon lingering in the background of the crest moved around, slithering around the crest like a winged serpent gliding through the sky. It clung greedily to the book, snapped its jaws at the harp, and sniffed warily at the wand. Most of the time, though, it remained motionless as an embroidered object ought, but if one looked very closely, they could see minute movements as the dragon breathed, giving the illusion that it was merely taking a nap.

But making the second base was not an instant affair, which was fine with Melia since the group was back on the traveling grind. She sat atop Midna, letting Brandy guide the giant cat as much as the finicky beast herself chose where to go, stitching, sewing, and weaving the tapestry together. Melia didn’t think Ellesea’s second attempt at enchanting the [Flying Carpet] would go any better than the first, but that didn’t stop her from improving the design. Version 1.0 was a plain rectangular rug with normal edges and corners. Melia kept that feature since there were some limitations on what the recipe would recognize as a base material, but she added small flourishes here and there. She put braided tassels onto the corners and started working on a large pillow Ellesea could either sit on or use as a backrest.

Any time the [Arcanist] looked over at what Melia was doing, she hung her head in shame, but as the day wore on, her self-doubt and loathing were slowly replaced by a shy smile. Melia couldn’t help but grin; the girl was finally starting to accept this new venture as a gift and an opportunity rather than something she desperately needed to perform for. It wasn’t a test and Melia’s affection for her wasn’t determined by success.

That being said….

The second attempt to enchant a [Flying Carpet] was just as disastrous as the first. Now Melia was the proud owner of two piles of [Glimmering Essence].

The group stopped for lunch around midday at a sandy oasis. Not the town of Oasis, that was still miles and miles away, but a legitimate little pool of water bubbling up in the middle of a rocky desert with a cactus and four palm trees. There was enough shade to allow several critters to squabble over resting rights, though they all skedaddled as soon as decently high-level Humans came through. Speaking of the scenery, Melia was in love with U’lindala. The game made it feel like a generic desert, but Melia found it so much more beautiful than the grains of sand on a screen.

The whole trip through Ala Randín was fascinating to Melia. Last Vigil, the town guarding the entrance to the Screeching Hollows, was roughly three and a half thousand feet in elevation. Ala Randín was the highest zone in U’lindala and everything else was downhill from there. Over the course of the day, the surroundings slowly changed from rocky, barren wastelands with patches of stout, prickly trees to sandy dunes that created shimmering mirages. On more than one occasion did a member of the group think they spotted a watering hole or some other intriguing oddity, but Melia’s eyes were sharper and she could see through everything. In fact, during one such escapade where Alastair and Jessica were nervous about seeing the skeleton of a giant animal in the distance, Melia cheerfully corrected them. What they were seeing was not the graveyard of ancient dinosaurs…that part of the desert was much farther south.

For some reason, they were not reassured.

But once lunch was ready, such fears and worries went out the window. The [Retainers] prepared sandwiches and cold tea, which was very refreshing in the scorching heat, though Melia, of course, was unaffected.

“Do you even sweat?” Jessica asked as she wrung out a damp cloth she had been using to wipe down her neck and forehead. Actually, she used it to wipe down other areas, too, since the only person to “offend” was Al, and he already knew Jessica had sweaty pits. And back. And chest. And pretty much any place that could secrete bodily fluids.

“I…don’t know?” Melia answered with a tilt of her head. She took stock of her body, and it was as pristine right now as it always was (if she wasn’t diving down a giant worm’s throat or exploding random dragons). Her hair was just as fluffy as if she’d taken a shower and finished blow-drying it, bouncing around in pigtails and generally getting in the way. She patted herself down, finding her body dry in all the inconvenient places, and shrugged.

“Maybe? But I don’t want to test how hot it would have to be to make me.”

“Right, I think we’d be dead,” Jessica laughed.

“Didn’t you hop into a working oven?” Y’cennia asked. Melia nodded and Brandy groaned.

“Don’t go jumping into ovens, Mel.”

“I mean, what if I need a good, close-up look?”

“Then take it out of the oven.”

“What if I can’t take it out?”

“Why wouldn’t you be able to?”

“What if I’m inspecting some metal in a forge?”

“Don’t go jumping into forges, Mel.”

​

It was impossible to keep going while the sun was at its highest. Even if the group had fire or heat resistance like Melia did (which they did not), the animals didn’t. Even Midna panted and huffed heavily, shaking her head and ruffling her thick coat in agitation. Without riders, the Nightsaber mewled noisily until the [Retainers] removed her saddle and then she spent the next 30 minutes or so submerged in the little pool with nothing but her snout above the water.

The group rested as best as they could in the shade, and Melia decided it was time to tackle “[Enchant] the [Flying Carpet], round 3.”

Ellesea looked just as nervous as always, but the previous two failures built some resistance for her. She set her face with grim determination while Melia coached her through the entire process. The sacred geometry for the [Enchantments] was already drawn; it was woven into the fabric of the base itself, so Ellesea didn’t need to worry about placement. She only needed to focus on the correct runes and how to arrange them, but with her mind of the arcane, she was well on her way to memorizing them. That left the hardest part: infusing the rug with magic.

Melia silently cheered her on, not wanting to break Ellesea’s concentration as her brows furrowed and she gritted her teeth. The flow of magic needed to be perfect, and she couldn’t move too slowly or too fast. Melia watched as mana transferred from the [Arcanist] into the [Flying Carpet]. Slowly, painstakingly, the geometry was being filled. Melia held her breath, bouncing up and down, unable to contain her anticipation…and after 15 agonizing minutes….

Ellesea finished!

The [Flying Carpet] did not immediately dissolve into a pile of shimmering dust, which was a good sign. It didn’t fade into ethereal nothingness as soon as Ellesea took her hands off the fabric, which was even better. And, perhaps most importantly, it didn’t blow up in her face! Everybody in the clearing held their breath, not just Melia and Ellesea, since after a day and a half of observing and overseeing this whole process, they felt invested.

Ellesea stood, staggering slightly as she did thanks to expending so much of her mana, but Layalee was there to steady her and provide her with some sweet juice for refreshment. After greedily drinking down the cup, Ellesea cautiously approached the dormant [Flying Carpet].

And, yes, it was a real [Flying Carpet]!

Melia (as well as everyone else) cast [Identify] as soon as it was stable.

​

[Flying Carpet]

​

Level: 750

Rarity: Epic

Quality: 3 Stars

Made By: Ellesea Barnes

​

On use: achieve flight.

​

A whole new world….

​

Melia considered the somewhat spartan description while Brandy began humming a classic tune. The [Carpet] was higher level than she thought it should be, but as with many of her other crafting feats, Melia didn’t always know how to gauge their levels because the system the game used to measure them was vastly different from real life. The rarity made sense, because all mounts were purple, so why should this be any different? What surprised her was the quality, but after several moments of contemplation, Melia agreed with the system and considered it fair.

Melia may have provided all the materials and created the base, but the system considered Ellesea the item’s creator. Even using 5-star materials, a novice wouldn’t be able to achieve the same results as a master, no matter how good they were. In fact, Melia was surprised that the system didn’t give her a 1- or 2-star rating, considering the first two attempts failed spectacularly, and she could tell the third was touch-and-go. But since it didn’t fail, the [Flying Carpet] was now complete.

However, [Flying Carpets] on their own did nothing without input from a rider. There it sat on the ground, like a glorified floor covering, getting sand all over it as the hot breeze stirred up tiny dust devils. Just looking at it, nobody would ever believe it was capable of flight; all they would see was a decent-sized area rug 8 feet long and 6 feet wide.

The group cheered her on as Ellesea cautiously approached the [Carpet]. She took a tentative step forward. Melia clapped excitedly as Ellesea closed her eyes, muttered one of Al’s prayers under her breath…and took a step of faith. Nothing happened.

She let out a tremendous sigh of relief, which might sound counterintuitive at first, but nothing was actually a pretty good outcome, all things considered. [Flying Carpets] didn’t come with an instruction manual, and no matter how many times Melia tried reassuring the [Arcanist] about how easy it was to use, no amount of instinct could accurately translate to a brand-new user.

Now all Ellesea had to do was activate it. She stood in the middle of the [Carpet] and concentrated on Melia’s words. Things like circulate your mana and impress your will on the rug weren’t exactly helpful, but after another 5 minutes, with the girl squinting and straining, the [Flying Carpet] began to vibrate.

Ellesea nearly toppled over in her excitement, but she crouched low to maintain her balance. She urged the [Carpet] to rise…and it did!

Slowly.

Mostly because Ellesea was clearly afraid of falling off, but also because she didn’t know how to set the speed. It wasn’t like Melia had her install a parking brake.

The [Flying Carpet] undulated in rhythmic waves, making a subtle flapping sound as the ends flicked up and down. At first, it was only about 6 inches off the ground, but Ellesea managed to raise it several feet. Melia excitedly ran beneath it, as if to say, look, no strings!, but that only served to stress the poor girl out. After Melia retreated with a sheepish apology, the group excitedly urged her to try moving forward.

Technically…she did.

Again, very slowly, and at a pace a snail might match.

…depending on the species. Some monster snails were deceptively fast, and they’d definitely win.

The group booed and heckled her for a few moments, given her reluctance to cut loose, which eventually got under the [Arcanist]’s skin. Ellesea pouted, stood up tall, and willed the [Flying Carpet] forward!

It was the wrong decision.

Ellesea was still in the mindset of standing up, which, while not necessary to make the mount rise, could affect the telemetry, and in this case, did. So not only was Ellesea standing up straight, rigid as a board, unbalanced and unready for unexpected movement, but the [Carpet] suddenly accelerated in an unforeseen direction. With a mighty (and panicked) yelp, Ellesea tumbled backward…onto her butt…off the [Carpet]...and watched it zoom at a 45-degree angle…into space.

The whole group fell silent, more amused than anything, but unwilling to be the first to laugh. This was why they needed to test-drive, as Melia explained, to make sure there weren’t any kinks. Suddenly, that thought about a parking brake seemed a lot more reasonable. Perhaps something went wrong with the auto-shutoff [Enchantment]. Sadly, since Melia made the thing to be ultra-durable and extremely efficient, it was never coming down. Once Ellesea gave it her initial dose of mana, it wouldn’t need to be refueled for another…300 years? If she pushed it to its absolute limits for every second of those days?

The group circled the dejected [Arcanist] as she lowered her head into her hands and cried, each probably muttering their own version of a eulogy in their heads for the intrepid, newly christened [Space Carpet]. They simply let the silence do the talking for them.

Eventually they all got up, mounted their original rides, and decided to move on. They all looked up in the direction the [Carpet] traveled, no longer even a distant dot, but completely vanished into the distance. Brandy summed it up and said it best.

“…never to be seen again.”

​

[Sunrise] had a lot of ground to cover and there was a whole bunch of nothing in the deserts of U’lindala. There were plenty of settlements in the 5 main regions, but none of them were on the path to Ala Tappas and Oasis. If they wanted to stop off at a village the size of Last Vigil, it would be a 2-hour detour. If they wanted a large town, it would be 3; to reach an impressive city, the group would have to spend at least 6 hours traveling almost perpendicular to their current path just to get there. They didn’t want to add a full day to their schedule when the proposed time already ran over a week, so they sought out another watering hole and roughed it for the night.

As much as the [Retainers] would let them.

The group was tired and the animals could go no further, but they were rewarded with a meal cooked by Melia, which raised morale considerably. It didn’t have any funny special effects, but Melia wasn’t trying to pull any pranks and simply wanted them to be well fed.

Well, they were [Well Fed], giving everybody several buffs, and since the night was young, Melia decided to entertain everybody with a [Dance]. It had been a little while since she’d donned her [Sultana’s Favor] and the breezy outfit felt wonderful on her skin. Since one of their eventual destinations was a dungeon at the very south of U’lindala, she decided to tell the tale of [Az-tiki].

The dungeon was an interesting one. To Melia’s knowledge, it was one of the very few truly outdoor instances, places where players could ride their mounts. But that was minor to the story, insofar as it allowed the flames that danced alongside Melia to brandish images of mighty steeds riding into battle. It was an ancient temple, dedicated to an old god, a minor deity that had broken from the host pantheon in ages past…the name of whom should not be named. Ra-amen. The god’s name was Ra-amen. Which, to Melia, sounded suspiciously like “ramen” and always made her hungry. He was the “god of the eclipse,” and, being neither the sun god nor the goddess of the moon, hated them both. In the past, legends said he tried to drive the moon into the sun to bring the world into a perpetual state of in-between…despite that not being how that would work. At all.

What really mattered was the current day, or the current day for players in the game. Players entered the ruins of Az-tiki to seek fortune and glory, and found death instead. Both in the form of sacrificial offerings by crazed cultists and mummies springing to life. There was a grand adventure where players had to fight through hordes of desert beetles, mummies, and scimitar-wielding, jackal-headed beefcakes with an extreme aversion to shirts to rescue a failed group of treasure hunters from execution.

Oh, and to protect both the sun and moon, too.

Az-tiki was one of the first cases where the developers hid extras for the dungeon…outside of the dungeon itself. The first time players cleared it, the instance ended with an epic showdown on top of a pyramid, fighting alongside all the Human sacrifices they’d saved along the way, slaughtering an army of undead. If they managed to survive, the treasure hunters would share some spoils, and everybody would go their separate ways.

Unless the players were interested enough to talk to each of the NPCs and hear all their lines of dialogue.

Through a bit of reading and deduction, they figured out there was an extra boss, an optional, final boss. To summon it, they needed to fly across the land, unraveling other riddles and mysteries in similarly ruined temples, all to assemble a mallet.

And once they had that mallet, they could come back to Az-tiki…and ring a gong.

And what would that gong do?

Summon Moth’ Ra.

Rumored to be a nod to very early monster/horror media, the developers crossed Hollywood design with Egyptian themes. The secret final boss only spawned when players climbed to the top of all four pyramids in the ruins and summoned an avatar of a minor sun god…which was pretty much a giant glowing light.

It was supposed to be the entity that would allow Ra-amen to drag the sun out of the heavens (again, despite that not being how it worked), but since the sacrificial offerings were already released, he was furious.

And mostly impotent.

Moth’ Ra would then swoop down, from out of nowhere, with no real warning…and smother the bright light. Absorbing the sun god’s power.

Then the players had to fight a fire-breathing moth, which was surprisingly more fun than it sounded.

But for [Sunrise], listening to Melia sing and watching the tale unfold in the fire, it was harrowing.

Except for Brandy, who groaned the entire time, holding her head in her hands.

​

After dancing, Melia decided to refresh herself with a dip into the water, and after she soaked to her heart’s content, she took a stroll in the cool night’s breeze under the stars. The open plains of U’lindala were deceptively flat, making it hard to tell while riding that they were moving constantly downhill. When Melia looked back, she could see the towering peaks shadowing the valley they’d come through two days ago, while before them, the world spread out like an open canvas. Though Melia had no trouble seeing in the dark and caught many of the intricacies lost in the subtle dips and swells of the dunes, there was enough of a view to be appreciated by anybody, regardless of their affinity with darkvision.

On the far side of the campground, far enough away from the fire to be unbothered by its glow, yet not so far as to leave the safety of the camp, Y’cennia sat on a log. She was alone, and Melia was intrigued. The catkin didn’t seem distressed, and Melia’s treasure senses weren’t tingling, so she was curious what had piqued the girl’s interest. She was about to head over and ask, but it seemed she wasn’t the only one to have that thought. L’menia materialized from the gloom, startling Y’cennia slightly as she silently took a seat next to her.

Melia crept forward, interested by this development. She knew her perky [Retainer] was fond of the smaller cat and liked to tease and pamper the poor girl; Melia didn’t want it to go too far. She wanted her friends to have as much freedom as she did around her servants, and that might be hard for them to understand when they were so powerless in comparison.

But L’menia didn’t pick on the girl or make her uncomfortable at all. In fact, she didn’t do anything. The two cats merely sat on their log, tails swishing and ears pivoting, staring into the distance.

“Oasis is that way,” Y’cennia eventually said. Nobody had asked and she wasn’t explaining anything; merely making an observation. “That’s not it, obviously; we’re far too north.”

Melia peered down the landscape and saw, in the far distance (little more than a splotch on the horizon to Y’cennia), a city. A real city, not an outpost or a settlement. It had buildings, watchtowers, and a fortified wall traveling around it. But most of all, and what probably caught the cats’ attention, there were lights. Magical ones, Melia was sure, though it was possible the light from flames could glow that bright. She’d never been in the wilderness so far removed from civilization before…and even if she had, it was unlikely that there were any places left in her old world that didn’t suffer from light pollution enough that the world turned completely black.

“Mirage,” L’menia said simply. Y’cennia chuckled.

“No, I’m pretty sure those lights are real. Aren’t mirages a product of heat and light?”

“You might know more about that than me,” L’menia shrugged. “But that’s not what I’m talking about. Mirage; if the map in my head hasn’t fallen apart, that’s the city of Mirage.”

“Ahh,” Y’cennia groaned. “It’s been so long I almost forgot. Ala Tappas and its stupid naming scheme. I didn’t think we’d traveled so far south.”

“You’re probably right,” L’menia said. “I don’t think we have. It’s most likely something else, something new. It’s been so long since I’ve visited U’lindala that I’m probably wrong.”

Melia smiled. Small talk. Nothing harmful about that. In fact, it was sweet. Sweeter than most of the pranks her tigerkin [Retainer] enjoyed pulling, and Melia didn’t want to ruin the mood. She had a hunch something special was going on, and if she interrupted, it would end. She was about to turn around when Y’cennia spoke back up.

“You…are from here, aren’t you?”

Something about the way she said it struck Melia. Y’cennia’s voice was cautious, nervous even. As if what she was asking shouldn’t be allowed.

“Yes,” L’menia sighed. She didn’t add any more, but her tone indicated the conversation wasn’t closed.

“You’re a member of the L tribe. I’ve never heard of them. Were they big? Where are they from? Do you have family here?”

“Ha,” L’menia barked out, making her tail swish drastically to the right. “We’re from Ala Qote. Windia, when it was the capital city. I’m not sure if it still is; I left a long, long time ago and I’ve never been back. As for the clan? It wasn’t small, but it wasn’t influential. We didn’t hold any seats on the Council. As for family…?”

The [Retainer] paused, and as much as Melia’s instincts were telling her to slink away, she was rooted to the spot. She’d never heard the backstory herself, not for any of them. [Retainers] didn’t have a backstory, not one given by the game, at least. They were simply “servants looking for employment by adventurers.” And the most backstory Melia had “officially” given them was treating them like big sisters.

It was clear Y’cennia took L’menia’s silence as the worst. Her tail stilled and her ears went flat.

“I’m…sorry,” she said tentatively. “If they’re all gone….”

“Ha!” L’menia laughed again. “Don’t be! Little kitten, for all I know, the family is bigger than it ever was! I didn’t say that they all died off! But,” she mused, her tone falling to something more wistful and contemplative, “It’s unlikely any of my direct family is still alive. I was young when I left, but I wasn’t a babe. I was the runt of 12; you think they had time to care about me? I left when I could and good riddance. I don’t harbor any ill will, but for all intents and purposes, I’m the last.”

“Ah,” Y’cennia said, wilting even more. “My family was big, too. I have 5 brothers and a sister. But I can’t imagine what it would be like never to see them again…even if they’re taxing at times. I always thought about visiting again in a few years, once we were really established. Heh,” she chuckled, “With how much we’ve advanced, I suppose I could do so now and I’d achieve that goal.”

Y’cennia seemed to perk up at this, which possibly made her more daring.

“L’menia,” she said tentatively, “I’m…sorry you’re alone.”

“Wah!” The giant tigerkin gleefully cried. “I said the last, not alone! Oooh, kitten cares! C’mere, you!”

L’menia pulled Y’cennia closer, pinning the smaller girl to her side with a mild squawk, unable to escape. The big cat ruffled the smaller cat’s hair affectionately before letting her go. Amusingly (to Melia), Y’cennia didn’t try to scurry away.

“If you don’t mind,” Y’cennia said, continuing her bold streak, “Can I ask a question?”

L’menia didn’t say anything but must’ve motioned for Y’cennia to go on.

“What made you want to become a servant? To a…dragon?”

Y’cennia nearly whispered that last word, and Melia instinctively crept a little closer. This she desperately wanted to hear.

“That’s the big one everyone always wants to know, but never has the guts to ask,” L’menia sighed. “But you know, in the beginning, I didn’t plan on working for a dragon. None of us did. But I’ll tell you…serving Lady Meliastraza was the best decision of my life.”

Melia’s eyes widened. She knew her [Retainers] held her fondly in their eyes, but to hear it laid out so candidly was a bit of an eye-opener.

“We didn’t know each other in the beginning,” L’menia began, “Lethia, Layalee, and I. And none of us looked anything like we did now, though I suppose the bare bones are there if you look hard enough. Lethia’s an elf; she’s always been tall. Same with Layalee; Northern Barbarians are natural giants compared to humans in Horizon. But a tigerkin like me? Sure, we’re feisty, we don’t back down from a fight, and we can be ferocious. But does that mean we’re this?”

Melia could see the tigerkin stand up, flex, and show off some sort of skill. The skill wasn’t something Melia recognized, but it was impressive enough to get an “oooh” out of Y’cennia.

“I was the runt, remember?” L’menia said. “When you’ve got enough meat for 10 and you’re the 12th mouth, you can guess how I might have looked. I was afraid that the agency wouldn’t take me, but apparently, adventurers weren’t too picky about their servants. Job requirements were practically nonexistent; there were only two hard rules: be willing to do any job that was asked of you, and be willing to learn. Of course, I’m over-simplifying things, and the agency wouldn’t set up a [Retainer] with an adventurer that was going to abuse them. It mostly meant we didn’t need any prior experience as domestic staff, and it wasn’t important that we already had a class like [Maid]. I was still an [Urchin] at the time, eager to rid myself of such a shameful moniker, and I got plenty of disgusted looks. But they took me and asked…I’ll be honest, the strangest, most bizarre questions I’ve ever heard, and I’ve lived a long life.”

L’menia chuckled, sighed, and stared into the night sky.

“Height? Weight? Eye color? Hair color? Hair length?? As if the person taking notes couldn’t see? But as it turned out, the agency made a detailed catalog of all its potential members so that when an adventurer asked to fill a specific need, they could do so immediately, no questions asked. And, technically, we got paid for it, even when nobody wanted to hire me! It was a pittance, sure, but it was enough to keep me warm and fed, which, compared to what I was used to, was a massive improvement. I think I sat at the agency for…6 months? Maybe more? Along with two other girls. I think you could guess who they are.

“Looking back, it might be fate. Lethia, Layalee, L’menia? Three [Retainers], all with names that start with the letter L? All who share a similar body type? Well…at the time I didn’t, and let me tell you, Northern Barbarians are scary. There’s a reason Layalee is second in command.”

“Is it because she threatens you with an axe?” Y’cennia whispered. L’menia bristled, winked, and made a shhh-ing gesture.

“Maybe,” she said coyly. “But none of us had any experience serving a lord or lady, and none of us had a domestic class. Not until the day Lady Meliastraza called for us.”

L’menia paused and stared thoughtfully out into the darkness.

“We didn’t meet her right away. The director of the agency pulled us into a room, looking uncharacteristically worried. He was a strict man of principle, and he didn’t let anybody take advantage of him or his people. If he noticed mistreatment or foul play, he’d shut it down immediately. We’d never seen him scared or nervous. This time he was both. She said, in plain, simple terms, that somebody had requested us. All three of us, which was unusual because most adventurers only asked for a single [Retainer], two at most. Three was expensive, and that meant money. We were interested immediately, and to my great shame, I admit I was motivated more by coin than anything else. Thankfully, Lady Meliastraza never held it against me. This was a special client, the manager said, with special needs. He handed us our consent-to-work forms and went over them with us for hours, double-checking and triple-checking. Making sure we understood everything. Because…he was afraid this might be a client he couldn’t fight against. Once we signed the paperwork…we were gone.

“We expected a noble. Some prince-in-disguise or hidden child of a duke. Somebody who made a game of slaying monsters and needed somebody to tidy up the camp. Never in our wildest imaginations did we expect to come face to face with a gnome.”

Even L’menia said the word with such…inflection that Melia really didn’t know how this world viewed her people.

“And yet her money was good, and we were paid. The interesting thing about the [Retainer] class, which many don’t know, is that it levels alongside those it serves. Don’t get me wrong; it’s not free experience. You have to work at it just as hard as anything else. But it’s like having a personal tutor alongside you every step of the way. If your master assigns you a job and they have that job, you are given guidance. That way, if they ask you to, say, slay 100 wolves as an [Rogue], if they are a [Rogue], you have a preview of their skills. You can learn, adapt.”

“Wow,” Y’cennia said. “I think I’d kill for something like that.”

“There are drawbacks,” L’menia said with a laugh. “You can’t choose your skills. It’s entirely in somebody else’s hands. I think that’s a major reason the class fell out of favor. If you find yourself employed by somebody who doesn’t work and lounges around all day, you’re practically a potato yourself. We were fortunate, very fortunate, that our adventurer was a cut above the others.

“Like I said…at first? We had no idea who she truly was. Just a tiny gnome, squirming with delight, huge, wide eyes open and expressive. She wanted to see everything, do everything. Experience everything. And she took us along on everything. If she had a phase where she wanted to be a [Miner]? Suddenly, Layalee is off learning what a pick is and how to swing it. How to gather plants? Lethia is off traipsing through the woods. She had a nose for crafting, and she’d search everywhere, high and low, for any recipe she could. If she could make it, she wanted one. If she couldn’t, she’d find out how, and then gather the materials and produce a craft.

“This caused a commotion among us. The gnome had never mistreated us; in fact, she barely said a word. Whenever she summoned us before her, she’d stare up at us in wide-eyed wonder, squirm around, more excited than she had any right to be, and then usually scurry away. We’d find a request sooner or later detailing what she really wanted, which was usually, please get me materials. One might think she was lazy, but she was always off getting something bigger, something better.

“So we had a mistress who was clearly skilled in many classes. She was obviously rich, and she was terrible with people. Was she some sort of gnomish princess?” L’menia mused. “Ha! If only. We were worried not about our well-being, but about the possibility that it might suddenly come to an end. You know the saying: if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is. We tried looking for clues, searching for details…but we never found out. Not on our own. Not until one day, she summoned us, and instead of a chipper little gnome…there was a gigantic dragon.”

L’menia and Y’cennia both shuddered, likely reliving that first time they’d seen Melia’s true form.

“I feel no shame in saying I was afraid. I was terrified. And yet…the dragon treated us as if nothing was different, as if it were still a tiny gnome, looking up at three giants. She sent us away, like normal, with a list of things to gather. I remember it distinctly: I was sent to retrieve 50 [Wilderbeast Leg Shanks]. We were all so disoriented and confused; I think we went about our duties as if everything was normal. I was halfway through killing my required monsters when it struck me: suddenly, I finally realized why we were always gathering so much food!

“It was absurd! We, [Retainers], were hired by a dragon! To get food! It also made sense that she was able to retain so many classes despite being so high-level in all of them. We’d been working for the gnome for about 3 years before she showed her true colors, and by that time we’d grown substantially ourselves. Both metaphorically and physically. Our bodies started to change, growing into what was needed of us to meet the needs of a dragon. I’d never heard of such a thing, but when a being powerful enough to move a leyline infuses you with their magic, unpredictable things can happen. We’d been living out of a rented flat all this time, until suddenly, one day, Lady Meliastraza decided to buy a house.

“So we moved in, grateful to finally become respected domestic servants, though that ship had long since sailed. She showed us around the empty estate like the proud owner she was…pointing at the empty walls, marveling at the bare floorboards. We were confused, thinking that she needed furniture at the very least if she was going to move in, but it turned out she didn’t plan to. So why did she buy it, we asked? Because she could! And for us! So that we’d always have a place to come back to, even if there came a point where she…wasn’t around. We assumed it was because she was a dragon, and dragons have strange flights of whimsy.

“But I don’t want to bore you. The next time she appeared as a dragon wasn’t right away. It was always in her gnomish form, and as we slowly came to terms with who and what we were serving, our outlook changed. We stopped being mere ‘servants’ and became…like family, if I may be so bold. It was obvious the dragon in disguise was lonely. And intensely curious! Why else would she take the form of a gnome? But it was clear she didn’t know how to take care of herself, and that duty fell to us. And so, our real job began: caretakers for a dragon. We bathed her, fed her, taught her to dress,” L’menia snorted and shook her head. “Which, as you can see, failed miserably.”

Melia looked down at her [Sultana’s Favor] and furrowed her brows. What was wrong with this?

“She knew every language known to man, but she didn’t know etiquette. She had a wealth of knowledge trapped inside her head, but nobody to share it with. Some days, instead of being summoned to procure rare meats, I was simply told to sit and listen to a story. And what stories she could tell! About her friends, the adventurers, about what worlds might live beyond the stars. Who knows what a dragon truly sees; that much is beyond me. But she always made it clear that we were never beneath her, which was the hardest thing to come to terms with as an employee and as someone inferior in every way. But as the years went on…it started to manifest. We became more powerful than the adventurers who would have hired us. More skillful than those we would ordinarily be sent to commission for goods. Through a bizarre dragon disguised as a gnome, we were taught compassion and grace; mercy and justice. We came to know great secrets of the world: how the upper echelons of adventurers worked, and the great lengths they went to keep everything safe. We were entrusted with her grand mansion, which had fallen into disrepair. We had become like gods…! In the world of domestic staff.”

L’menia turned to Y’cennia, and Melia saw her wearing a very sad smile.

“And then the world changed. One calamity after the next appeared, and every year there seemed to be another world-ending threat knocking at our doors. We knew, Lethia, Layalee, and I, that our Mistress could end any one of them in the blink of an eye, but she didn’t. She didn’t want to solve the world’s problems for them; she wanted to make them better. As she made us better. She joined them, fought alongside them…and they betrayed her trust. They grew greedy, saw her magnanimous nature…and sought to take her treasures as their own.

“In hindsight, I can only be grateful that those fools never attempted to capture us. Not that it would have been easy, but back in those days, rank 10s were much more common and they would have succeeded. I dread to think of the wrath Lady Meliastraza would have poured out upon those people if they had tried. But they didn’t. And instead…they took our Lady from us. And so once again…we were alone.”

The two cats were silent for a while and Melia was afraid to move. That small story was enough to feed her thoughts for weeks, if not months, and the squirming in her stomach wasn’t very pleasant. And it wasn’t because she was hungry, for once, either.

“I…don’t know how to feel,” Y’cennia eventually muttered. Melia almost laughed. Me too, Cennie. Me too.

“Same here,” L’menia chuckled, slapping her thigh. “And I’m the one who went through it! But I guess, if you want a short version? We met the dragon by happenstance. It could have been anybody, but she chose us. Call it fate, call it the will of the gods, call it the whimsy of an Archdragon. It has had its sour moments, but the light it brought us far outshines any darkness. And now that she’s returned, you get to experience that too.”

¹

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