Melia the Magnificent

Alastair wasn’t sure getting taken aside by Braum was a good thing. Suddenly receiving personal attention and advice from one of the most influential [Paladins] of the modern day? Other members of his order would be jealous and they’d make his life miserable.

Oh, who was he kidding? It absolutely was a good thing, and any thought to the contrary was just his fragile ego making up excuses. And yet, it felt surreal. Even more than leveling faster than he thought possible, or finding himself in the company of a dragon. For some reason, taking a small walk around the abbey with a dwarf threw Alastair off more than anything else in his life.

Or maybe it was because of everything else that this felt so strange? Being mentored by one of the greatest members of the church would always be something he welcomed. And, if he was honest, there was probably a tiny part of Alastair’s brain that dreamed something like this would happen. Though, perhaps in his visions, Alastair saw himself standing next to a [Cardinal] or somebody more…philosophical. Theological.

Less…destructive.

But Braum Blastkettle was much more grounded than Alastair ever imagined, and it wasn’t because he was short. Alastair nearly snorted. Jessica’s humor had certainly rubbed off on him, and it didn’t help that Melia would laugh and play off her height willingly.

She would then proceed to do something completely incomprehensible and potentially world-shattering, though not in a “kill all life on the planet” sort of way. Just…blowing small-town, simple minds, one commoner at a time.

Maybe Alastair was getting desensitized. Maybe that was the problem.

Maybe what he really needed was the chance to slow down and take things one step at a time.

Braum’s solution was something Alastair never would have considered: a simple, calming walk in the woods. Several years ago, walking through a verified spawn zone would be insane. With his level at the time, it would have been suicidal. Even as little as 6 months ago, it would have been dangerous enough to call risky. As a level 200, getting surrounded by a pack of 4 or 5 level 50 wolves would’ve been a death sentence.

Now, the wolves actively avoided him.

It was bizarre to the point of feeling like walking through a dream.

The two entered the forest without ceremony. There was no big quest, no declaration to pursue a loft goal, simply two men, a human and a dwarf, walking through the woods. The seldom-used path narrowly wound its way between ancient oaks whose branches knit together into a ceiling of green and gold. Afternoon sunlight slipped between the leaves in wandering shafts, painting the undergrowth with scattered patches of flame-like oranges and reds. Somewhere unseen, the river’s water burbled over stone and birds traded song high above the canopy.

Neither [Paladin] hurried. It became clear that Braum was waiting. Alastair marveled at the old dwarf’s patience.

Braum walked with the measured certainty of a man who’d spent a lifetime on roads much tougher than this one. His boots found every rise and hollow without thought. Beside him, Alastair did his best to match the pace, which, while leisurely, held purpose. Despite being much taller than the Dwarf, Alastair knew if he lost focus, he would not keep up; a surprising trial, given the way his gaze wandered from tree to tree as if searching for something he could not name.

“I’ve been restless,” Alastair finally admitted.

Braum grunted, though not unkindly.

“So I gathered.”

“I should be grateful,” Alastair mused. “These last few weeks have been…extraordinary. Above and beyond any reasonable expectation. A gift,” Alastair frowned. “Yet I feel hollow.”

The dwarf considered the words as they continued through the winding trail. Dry leaves crackled under their boots.

“Tell me,” Braum said at last. “When your armor is dented, do you hammer it while still wearing it?”

Alastair blinked.

“No.”

“And when your blade grows dull?”

“I sharpen it.”

“Whilst in the midst of battle?”

“Of course not.”

The dwarf nodded toward a cracked and rotted stump, atop of which stood a squirrel, chattering.

“And yet these things need care,” Braum said. Alastair agreed. Braum paused and pressed two fingers to his lips, hidden beneath the tangle of his healthy beard. A surprisingly gentle whistle came out, like some warbling bird, and the squirrel looked up. Braum reached into his side pack, pulled out a pinch of trail mix, and tossed it at the stump. The critter almost fled, but smelling a quick and easy meal, it chattered rapidly and dashed forward. The two watched in amusement as it stuffed its cheeks before scampering off.

“These are tools, lad,” Braum continued as they began moving again. “Hammers and shields, sets of armor and fine mail made of chain. Aye,” he chuckled, “Sometimes, they can be quite expensive. A good steward takes care of his tools.”

Alastair nodded along.

“We take such care of tools, lad,” Braum sighed. “And yet, sometimes we forget about something so much more important. The soul,” he said, thumping his chest heavily. “Why should souls deserve less care than steel?”

Alastair hummed thoughtfully and the two fell into comfortable silence once again. They rounded a bend where sunlight spilled freely into a clearing. Ferns stretched toward the sky, every frond turned in its own direction, each finding its own place beneath the same sun.

Braum crouched down and gently pinched a frond between his thick and calloused fingers. He turned it left and right as if to examine it, but when he let it go, it was unharmed. Still crouched, Braum waved his hand around the clearing.

“Look.”

Alastair followed his gaze.

“They all seek the light,” the dwarf said quietly. “Not one of them reaches in quite the same way.”

Alastair smiled faintly.

“I suppose not.”

“The Light never demanded that we all grow alike,” the dwarf chuckled. “That would make Celestara’s garden dull.”

They stood there for a moment, saying nothing more. Wind drifted through the branches overhead and thousands of leaves answered with a gentle applause. The two crossed the clearing and moved on.

​

After another stretch of silence, Alastair spoke again.

“I keep thinking that I should be accomplishing something.”

Without turning, Braum nodded.

“You are.”

“Right now?” Alastair nearly laughed. “I’m only walking.”

The dwarf’s eyes crinkled and his smile widened beneath his greying beard.

“Then walk well.”

This time, Alastair let the laughter bubble forth.

“That sounds suspiciously like something they’d carve over a monastery gate.”

Braum paused, glanced up at Al, and mirth was clear on his face.

“They probably already have.”

The older [Paladin] stretched, the gentle tinkle of his under-armor barely audible.

“Listen carefully, Lad. The Light isn’t measured in grand victories. It’s measured in faithful steps. Every road to glory is built from ordinary miles.”

He tapped Alastair’s chest with a weathered finger.

“If your heart faces the Light, your feet will find their way. That’s all any of us have ever done.”

Alastair slowly raised a hand and absently touched the place the dwarf’s fingers touched. He thought back to his life…before the dragon. Had he been this restless? He hadn’t. He had goals, as far away and unreachable as they seemed. Sometimes, he didn’t know where he’d rest his head at night, and he couldn’t see ahead of the bend of the road before him…but it hardly seemed to matter. He laughed, he prayed…and he trusted the Light to guide him.

It all seemed so simple then.

“Where does it all go?” Alastair muttered.

“Hmm?” Braum perked up. Al knew the dwarf likely heard exactly what he’d said, but he was allowing Al to explain himself…or stay quiet.

“How do you deal with things outside your expectations?” Alastair asked, before quickly deciding he needed to be more specific. “I mean, what would you do if you suddenly found yourself in a relationship with somebody much higher level than you?”

“I’m not sure I follow?” Braum said tactfully.

“I suppose you wouldn’t often come across people higher level than you,” Alastair said with a deprecating laugh, knowing he was bungling his chance to ask a question. “And I don’t mean romantically, either. It’s my party.”

“Ah,” Braum nodded wisely. “Whenever there’s disparity, strife inevitably follows.”

Alastair shook his head.

“Mmmm. It’s not quite like that. If you’re thinking that one of us is jealous of another’s advancement, we’re not. I suppose we’ve been blessed. This group has always been calm about leveling and like-minded with our goals. We share resources with our non-combatant and make sure she’s moving in the direction she wants to be.”

“So what is it, then?”

“About a month ago,” Alastair sighed, “Maybe two. We picked up a new team member. She’s…strong. Very strong. So strong, she doesn’t need any of us. She made that very clear, and was up front with us about what she wants out of the group. It’s just….”

“Having trouble adapting?” Braum asked wryly. Alastair nodded.

“Even back then, I wasn’t the highest level in the group. That was our [Mage]. But at the very least I felt…like I contributed something.”

Alastair took a deep breath and stared into the canopy above.

“Our new member came. She has been- and I say this with all seriousness -wonderful. She’s a delight; there’s never a dull moment with her around, and she’d gladly bend over backward to give us everything we could ever ask for.”

“I see,” Braum nodded. “And let me guess…once you had everything handed to you, everything stopped having meaning?”

“Is that so strange?” Alastair asked with a pained laugh.

“Not at all,” Braum said sadly, shaking his head. “It’s a fact of life that many men take their worth from their jobs. Some say: it’s a man’s place.”

He stared Alastair in the eye to let him know how seriously he took the young [Paladin]’s confession…and also what he thought about it.

“I say: Yeh cannae fart in’ta candle withoot pullin’ down yer pants an’ burnin’ yer ass.”

“I’m…sorry?” Alastair questioned. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“Ahaha,” Braum laughed sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head. “It’s an old dwarvish saying. It doesn’t exactly translate well, but it’s basically meant to make fun of people being stubborn for stubborn’s sake. We dwarves,” Braum laughed, “Know a thing or two about bein’ stubborn. Sometimes we get so caught up in our own heads, we forget that what we’re doing sometimes isn’t as important as why we’re doing it. And if the why is pretty stupid…you’re gonna look like a right fool no matter what happens.”

Braum stared up into the trees and shook his head.

“If you find value in what you do with your hands…good. But don’t let it own you, because it doesn’t define who you are. This party member…I take it she’s a good deal stronger than your original group?”

“Yes,” Alastair let out a heavy breath. “She’s the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

It took a fraction of a second for Alastair to realize Braum stopped walking. For a moment, he feared he might have misspoke. Not because it wasn’t true, but he was worried about hurting the dwarf’s pride. Braum looked at him with a single, challenging eyebrow raised.

“Is that so?”

What went unsaid was that Braum himself was rather high level. Alastair knew the [Breakers] were rank 10 and up, though the exact number eluded him. Still…Alastair met Braum’s gaze with a confident one of his own.

“That’s so,” Alastair nodded. “After all, she’s a dragon.”

If Braum were walking, he would have tripped. His eyes widened and he whistled appreciatively.

“By the gods!” He laughed. “Are yeh pullin’ me leg, lad?”

“No sir,” Alastair shook his head with a smile. “In fact, you can meet her if you want. I think she might be taking a nap.”

“Let me get this straight,” Braum said. “Not only do you have a dragon in your party, but she lets you near her when she sleeps?”

“Uhh, yes?” Al answered hesitantly.

“I take it back, lad,” Braum chuckled. “By all means; feel as useless as you please. You ain’t never matchin’ up to that. I know a dragon or two, and they have a habit o’ makin’ me feel small. Ah, pardon the saying.”

“You have no idea,” Alastair grinned as they started walking again. “It’s like running into…a genie, if I’m honest. You say, I wish I could have this. And whatever this is, she just…makes it appear. If she doesn’t have it on her, she’s got it in her bank. And if it’s not in the bank, she makes it out of scratch. Just…bam. Makes it. Like that.”

It was clear Braum didn’t quite understand the severity of Meliastraza’s Meliastrazaness, so Al went a step further.

“You’ve been around the abbey for at least a little bit, right?” He asked. Braum nodded and Al continued. “Have you seen the [Greenhouse]?”

“Aye, I’ve even visited the [Tree].”

“She made that,” Al said bluntly. Braum’s eyebrows raised and his eyes widened. “Have you seen the [Moonwell]? She made that too.” Braum started to turn a shade white. “And have you seen the [Aetherstone]...?”

“Stop,” Braum begged with a groan. “Are you tellin’ me, a bloody dragon made an [Aetherstone]?”

“Yeah.”

“What in Helena’s name sort of level does this dragon have?”

“That’s...not my place to say,” Alastair admitted. “You could ask her. She might even tell you.”

“Oh, I’d love to have a friendly chat with a friendly, neighborhood dragon,” Braum laughed. “But you think she’d agree to talk to the likes of me? Don’t know how much you know about dragons, lad, but they’re mighty particular about what they like and don’t like.”

“Eh, so long as you don’t attack my other teammates or me, she’s perfectly reasonable. In fact, I’d go as far as to say you’d never know she’s a dragon in the first place.”

“Oh?” Braum challenged. “There’s ways of picking a dragon out of a crowd, even in their Human form.”

“Even if said form is a gnome?”

Braum stopped dead in his tracks.

“Yeh’ve got ta be shittin’ me.”

“Pardon?”

“I mean- that certainly is a choice. Haven’t seen a garden of gnomes outside of Deepholme in months.”

“So, yeah…I think if you wanted to talk to her, she’d have no problem. She’d love to talk. In fact, I think it’s actually for the best if you do talk to her.”

“Not that I’m complainin’, lad, but may I ask why?”

“You said you came out here to talk to the original party that discovered the [Obsidian Mansion], right?”

“Aye.”

“Well, we’re that party,” Alastair reminded him. “And, not that I think this is a fitting payment for taking me on this walk and helping me clear my head, but I’d like to pay you back. We’ll answer everything we can…well, I can’t speak for our dragon, but as for the rest of [Sunrise], we will.”

“Huh,” Braum chuffed as they neared the edge of the forest and the trees began to thin. “To think a dragon ran a dungeon. I don’t know if I’ve ever known a dragon to take interest in dungeons.”

“Well, this one certainly has,” Alastair answered wryly. “It’s her house.”

This time, Braum did stop dead in his tracks.

“Say what?!”

​

Her belly was full of a delicious dinner, she was wearing an absolutely stunning bathing gown made of [Mooncloth], and she was soaking in a [Moonwell] like a hot spring from the gods.

A fact, she mused, that might actually be true…in more ways than one.

In her left hand, laid lazily on the edge of the pool in the lounging section, was a fruity alcoholic concoction in a coconut shell with a delightful little paper umbrella, and the stars twinkled in the sky above. Three [Retainers] bustled around, keeping interlopers away while also taking care of any legitimate water needs. Just because a [Saint], a princess, and a dragon decided to go for a late-night dip didn’t mean the entire abbey needed to go without water.

But now that she thought about it, that sounded like the start of a stellar joke.

Across from her in their little nook of the otherwise large and formidable [Well], Eluna Brandywine wore an equally delighted expression.

“A girl could get used to this,” Eluna said. Moeldywn wanted to roll her eyes, not because of the same style [Moonbath Robes], which looked as natural on her as the garments of a [High Priestess], but because of the gremlin in her arms.

Meliastraza…for whatever reason, had reverted to her half-kin form. The horns were out, the tail was out (floating like a lump of fat in the pool), and she was slung over the top of Eluna’s shoulder like an overgrown lizard.

“Agreed,” Moeldwyn practically purred. She raised her coconut drink, found that it was lighter than she would have liked, and frowned.

“Lethia!” She called. The elf practically materialized by her side. “Another!”

“My lady,” the old tart said in her perfectly smug voice, “You’ve had two. Perhaps it’s time for some water.”

Moeldywn grumbled, but she knew better than to try and talk back to the [Retainers] when they were like this. She lifted the empty drink, felt the weight disappear from her hand, and before it even got tired of staying raised in the air, it was filled with a large, cold glass. She lowered it and found it full of [Purified Water]. Moeldywn glanced up at the huge fountain at the edge of the [Moonwell]. Someday, she would study this pool and extract all of its secrets, but the one she was most interested in was the purification. From what she was able to coax out of Headmaster Veloran at dinner, it didn’t matter what sort of filth got dumped into the water. It all came out perfectly clean.

And she did mean perfect.

Which of course then begged the question nobody wanted to ask…what would happen to a person who sat inside the [Moonwell] too long?

Understandably, this was one of Veloran’s priorities to research, as soon as he could find a way to propose wasting his time sitting in a bath without outright saying it. Luckily, Moeldywn had no such qualms and immediately demanded that Meliastraza take her there as soon as she found out it was made for bathing.

And, because Moeldywn was interested in most of Veloran’s studies, her mind naturally wandered toward a hypothesis. Begrudgingly, of course, since the rest of her wanted to relax.

But the question was intriguing. What would happen to a human body?

The unimaginative might initially think a human might simply disappear if they soaked too long. That they might be purified out of existence.

Not so.

They knew already that not every scrap of material to find its way into these still waters would be dissolved. It was, after all, the only way to purify [Mooncloth].

That then raised other questions. According to Meliastraza, who kindly explained the process to create [Mooncloth], the initial strips of cloth used had to meet certain requirements. Not only was the original material particular, but the size was, too. So at what point did small strips of cloth stop being considered common detritus, and start becoming something worth purifying?

And in turn, what did that say about the human body?

The girls had been soaking in the [Moonwell] for about an hour, and already Moeldywn felt rejuvenated. She felt at least a decade younger…though, thankfully, this pool did not contain any of Meliastraza’s bizarre and frankly terrifying penchants for transformation. If this pool were a literal fountain of youth, Moeldywn would have run away screaming. She’d worked hard to grow up, damn it!

…and then she might bottle it and sell it [Alchemists].

Fortunately, none of that was the case.

“Melody,” Eluna asked in her musical voice, “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

It was so strange to Moeldywn. She knew that Eluna and the dragon in her arms were both Visitors, and she might be one of the few people alive to possess that information, but she didn’t actually know what that truly meant. It wasn’t knowledge the gods deemed necessary for common man to understand, so even as a Queen, Moeldywn had to be satisfied with a simplified explanation. Mortal bodies, created by the gods, holding valuable souls. Or, in Meliastraza’s case, perhaps not-so-mortal.

But that didn’t stop Eluna from personifying the ephemeral beauty of the high elves, nor bewitching the shorter-lived races with her siren’s call. Moeldywn shook her head and thought of all the [Meli Bears] in her collection. A smug smile crept up her lips, and her jealousy was washed away.

“By all means, please do.”

“What do we know about the demon lands?”

Ah. Moeldywn’s smile slowly slid off and she sighed.

“I suppose I should have seen this coming,” she said sadly. “I can tell you what I know, which is more than most but less than others. What do you wish to know?”

“Sorry to bring up work,” Eluna said sadly, “But this might be the only chance I get to talk to you in private. After that ceremony the other day, I expect the church to send another recruitment party after me, and I’d rather not stick around for that.”

“If they give you trouble,” Moeldywn said threateningly, trailing off dramatically. It was meant to sound powerful; a statement by a Queen offering her unwavering support.

So of course that confounded gnome had to ruin it.

“They’ll have to get through me,” Meliastraza mumbled sleepily. Eluna smiled fondly and rubbed the lump gently on the back.

“Of course,” Moeldywn said dryly. She waved to Lethia. “Another fruity coconut, please.”

While her new drink was being delivered, Eluna continued.

“I guess what I’d really like to know…if I could only ask a single question…is what are they like? From what I remember, demons are ruthless. They value strength above all else. I still remember the wars we fought…. I guess, what I’m getting at is, if it comes down to it, can they be reasoned with? If a new king rises up and he wants to fight, can peace talks work?”

“No,” Moeldywn said with finality. “If a new king wants to fight, then the demons will fight. There will be outliers, of course, scattered pockets of demonkind throughout the kingdoms who’ve broken their loyalty to their crown and live their own lives. From them, we have nothing to fear. But as a whole? War with the demon lands is all but assured.”

Eluna frowned and shifted the lazy dragon to her other shoulder.

“If…things were to go so far, if war did come to pass…how much of a fight could humanity put up?”

“We have the Royal Guard,” Moeldywn frowned, “But not much of a standing army. Reserves? Yes. Militia? Yes. But if a force needed to be deployed tomorrow? I’m afraid you’d find us lacking. We’d need to call in the adventurers…which can be problematic since plenty of demons are adventurers, too.”

Moeldywn gave Eluna a speculative look.

“How long do we have?”

Eluna stared at her but said nothing.

“Please,” Moeldywn said tiredly. “I thought we were speaking plainly.”

“You’re right,” Eluna sighed. “But I don’t know. I only know it’s soon.”

“Braaaaandeeeee,” Meliastraza grumped sleepily, “You didn’t tell me we need to kill a demon king.”

“That’s because we don’t,” Eluna soothed, patting the gnome on the back. Moeldywn suppressed a sigh.

“You could send her after them,” Moeldywn said reasonably, nodding to the lazy dragon. Eluna glanced at the lump in her arms and shook her head.

“No. I don’t think that’s a valid option.”

“It would save lives,” Moeldywn countered. “A war with demonkind would be costly. I remember from my father’s time; it was said: 1 demon was as good as 100 human men. Some might even say it’s her responsibility.”

“And I’m sure all those people are humans,” the high elf countered. “With human reasoning and human logic. They think only of human lives and human interests. They do not consider what it means to send out the weapon of the gods. Would you sanction a holy war, Your Majesty? Because that’s what this becomes, isn’t it? And what happens then if the gods find out what you’ve done and they aren’t pleased?”

Eluna took a deep breath and shook her head.

“Your job is to rule a country,” she said clinically without a hint of accusation. “My job, as it has always been, is to make sure she is well looked after.”

Eluna nodded down at Meliastraza and Moeldywn lost the will to argue. As much as she’d been forced into the life of a monarch, she would never forget the childlike glee on Meliastraza’s face. Every time she saw something new, made a discovery, or even told a silly tale. It was like watching winter bloom into spring, thawing the everfrost of the coldest peaks and bringing sunshine into a cloudy day. Moeldywn couldn’t change that.

​

“My lady,” Layalee said with her bubbly voice, “You have a visitor.”

Moeldywn looked up to find the second [Retainer] looming over her. She wasn’t dismayed by the [Beserker]’s size; Layalee was just as soft as the rest of them.

“Send them in,” Moeldywn said with a sigh. She glanced over at Eluna, and with a curt nod, both of them knew the heavy talk was over. Layalee left and returned shortly with an unexpected guest.

“Braum,” Moeldywn said pleasantly. She was still lounging in the [Moonwell], but she found she couldn’t be bothered to get up. “What brings you to our humble pool tonight?”

“Humble?” Braum mused, looking curiously at the crystal clear water. “Is that what you call this?”

“Yes,” Meliastraza mumbled from Eluna’s shoulder, once again proving she was awake. The high elf laughed and the dragon slid down into the water with a hefty plop. She didn’t immediately surface.

“Ahh, is, uh, somebody going to rescue that poor lass?” Braum asked.

Moeldywn spared the bubbles that were slowly rising from the dark underwater shadow a halfhearted look.

“She’ll rise when she’s good and ready.”

“If you say so,” Braum said, clearing his throat. “As for my business, I had an interesting conversation with a young [Paladin] this afternoon. We talked about the dungeon, but it brought up more questions than answers. I was told, ah, with all due respect, that a dragon resides nearby. I thought, seeing as you’re something of a dragon buff, you might be able to tell me if that’s true? And if they’re amenable to a meeting?”

Moeldywn gave the bubbles, rising with less frequency, a second glance.

“Amenable?” She mused, thinking how wonderfully cathartic it might be to foist a tiny bit of nonsense onto an otherwise respectable dwarf. “Assuredly so. As for availability? Currently, she is a tad bit…indisposed. Eluna, can you make sure the lump isn’t drowning?”

“Eluna?” Braum’s eyes widened. “Eluna Brandywine? The [Saint]? Your grace, I apologize for my impropriety-”

“Quit gawpin', ya turnip,” Moeldywn sassed. “Dinnae bring tha’ uptight shite inta me [Moonwell]. Either kindly remove tha steel rod from up your arse or fook off.”

“Hehehe,” Meliastraza giggled. “Melody cursed.”

Braum’s jaw was steadily falling to the floor, but at least his awe shifted from Eluna onto the dragonkin.

“You…can speak dwarven?” He stammered.

Moeldywn knew Braum knew she could speak his mother tongue fluently, so she assumed he was talking about Meliastraza. She rolled her eyes, reached out her hands, and led the lazy lump paddle into her arms.

“Yes,” Moeldywn said with a voice of tested patience. “You’ll find there isn’t a single language on this entire planet that she doesn’t speak. And, as it so happens, Mr. Blastkettle, you’ve come to precisely the right place. You wanted to speak to a dragon?”

Moeldywn held the lump up, who tilted her head just enough to smile cheekily up at the dwarf.

“There you have it. Now, if you’re going to talk, do so in the pool. I came out here to relax, and staring up at you is giving me a kink in my neck. I don’t care if you change into something more fitting for relaxation or fall in wearing your armor; just get in. But be warned, if you take too long, we might get out. We have been here for a while.”

To his credit, Braum seemed to think about it for half a minute before concluding that this was an opportunity that he couldn’t afford to miss. He removed most of his outer accessories, but otherwise clambered down the steps into the pool, fully dressed.

Moedlywn approved. While she would rather allow the man to be more comfortable, it spoke to his character that he understood priorities. Having the exclusive audience of a [Saint], a queen, and a dragon was not something to be treated lightly.

Braum tried staring at the dragon-gnome, but she was still mostly uncooperative. Or rather, the comfortable temperature of the pool had made her go a bit silly. Now that Moeldywn had coaxed her away from the high elf, she felt like she’d won the affection of a particularly obstinate cat, and she didn’t want to give it up.

“Er, Your Majesty, that is, ah….”

“Braum,” Moeldywn said. “Speak freely. You’ll wear yourself out too fast.”

“Right,” he sighed. “I’ve been told you’re the owner of the [Obsidian Mansion].”

Moeldywn was impressed. He actually came right out and said it. She jiggled the lump in her arms, trying to coax out a response.

“Yeh,” Meliastraza said in perfect aristocratic dwarven. Moeldywn cringed; was this how she always sounded to dwarves? But the dragon didn’t elaborate. “Lehtiaaaaaa?” Meliastraza called out.

The huge [Retainer] appeared behind Moeldywn and Braum nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Helena’s hearth!” He swore. The elf giggled.

“Mr. Blastkettle,” she said professionally. “Indeed, Lady Meliastraza does own the Obsidian Mansion. If you have any inquiries about the grounds, I will be more than willing to assist you.”

“You…,” he said with dawning understanding. “You’re the one the advanced scouts spoke of! A huge maid….”

“Really,” Eluna sighed, “Is that what everybody says? I mean, I did too, so I’m not one to judge….”

“Lethia, give him the tour if he wants. I trust you.”

The elf beamed so hard she almost glowed.

“As you wish.”

“So,” Meliastraza asked, waking up a little, “Did you enter the dungeon?”

“Aye,” he said. “And I wish I didn’t have to leave. But the lockout’s coming up, so it won’t be long before we’re right back at it.”

“Did you attempt any of the [Acts]?”

“Attempt?” Braum scoffed. “I’ll have you know we cleared the first one!”

The way he said it, Moeldywn knew he felt it was a matter of professional pride that his team could clear dungeons no other party could tackle. Sadly for him, he wasn’t the first one.

“Oooh,” Meliastraza cooed. “So exciting! I think Chaos did a good job with that one.”

“She…did?”

Braum was about to agree enthusiastically, but he froze mid-sentence. His eyes widened as he stared at the dragon-gnome.

“Wait…you’ve been inside it? But I spoke with [Sunrise]! They told me they only listened to the opening speech!”

“Oh, sure,” Meliastraza agreed. “I sent them back out. They’re not high enough level yet.”

“And,” Braum began hesitantly, “You are?”

Moeldywn could practically hear the unspoken words. High enough level…to clear it alone.

“Yeah,” Meliastraza grinned. “Which is why I gotta say, I think Chaos did a really good job.”

“Oh,” Braum said…then, his eyes widened. “Oh! Oh!” He fumbled in his inventory and pulled out a small notepad. “I’ve got so many questions! Starting with…what do you know? How do you know it? If you read about it in a book, which book? From which library? Do you know why they had a party? And what manner of infernal [Goat] that shopkeeper was selling? Or how about the mysterious [Shadow]? Was there a traitor in the Heroes’ party? And what happened to that gang? And the dragon! There was a dragon! Why did it attack? And what was Bartolo thinking?”

The questions went on and on, rattled off like a dwarven firecracker. Meliastraza listened patiently, giggling the entire time.

“I didn’t read about it,” she said after he exhausted himself. “I was there!”

“You…were…?” Braum asked, his voice a pitch higher than Moeldywn had ever heard it. His eyes were so wide, she was beginning to fear he was about to forget to breathe.

“Yup!” Meliastraza cheered. “In fact, you saw me without realizing! Maybe twice! Did you look around after your fight with that [Elemental]? Did you see a gnome? That was me!”

“Ahhhhhh,” Braum said…and slowly slumped over, backward. Fortunately, he was in a shallow area and flopped onto his side on dry ground.

“Oh, Lethia,” Moeldywn called. “Please do make sure Mr. Blastkettle makes it back to his tent. I must say, this [Moonwell] was exceptionally refreshing. We must do this again sometime.”