The Dragon Queen of Thelvadore

With a smile, the woman nodded and quickly led me into the backrooms. This was a semi-public space, that much was clear. Meeting rooms, offices, but not exactly staff only. Unsurprisingly, most of it was empty.

Our destination was the second to last door on the left, where the receptionist knocked and waited for a moment, before she opened the door and led me inside. The room itself was, once again, exactly as I had expected it, with the same general feeling of a fantasy meeting room, with loads and loads of books on one wall, and a large table in the middle, with four chairs flanking it on each side. Two of them were occupied.

The first by Mister Shiltain, trying to remain composed yet somehow still seeming thirty years older than he should be. I wasn’t quite sure why exactly he looked so exhausted, although I was pretty certain he would tell me relatively soon, given how he had invited me here.

The second person in the room was another man, and my eyebrows went up slightly as I saw him.

To all outward appearances he looked to be a human man in his mid to late twenties. Broadshouldered, and with thick muscles, tall even while seated. His face was sharp, yet somehow still blunt looking, with a well kept beard just barely more than a stubble. Both his beard and his hair, cut just long enough to reach past his ears, were a dark grey–a natural tone, not the result of age.

He was dressed in what I would call adventurer chic, with functional clothing of what looked like linen, but was no doubt a material more comfortable and of higher quality. His pants were thick and seemed to be padded, likely doubling as light armor, the same as his boots.

No, what really caught my attention were his eyes. They looked human enough–a dark green with hints of blue–but I knew they were anything but. The almost imperceptible glow of magic in them made that very clear.

There was a short moment’s pause when our eyes met, and I felt him go rigid.

Mister Shiltain didn’t seem to notice it, simply giving me a smile that tried to be warm, but only ended up about as tired as he probably felt. “Ah. There you are. Please, please, sit. I was just talking to the director about the possibility of perhaps organising some more escorts.”

I didn’t reply, nor did I turn my attention away from the man sitting across the merchant. The more time went on, the more rigid he became, small droplets of sweat slowly forming on his forehead. His breathing was becoming ever so slightly elevated. It was pretty clear he was terrified of me, although I couldn’t be entirely certain why. I did have some inkling, though.

Neither I nor Vuthe knew the man. But the moment my eyes had fallen on him, some long forgotten memories from Vuthe had bubbled up. Not about this man in particular, but his kind.

The silence dredged on, to the point even Mister Shiltain and the receptionist noticed that something wasn’t right.

“Director?” the woman standing next to me asked. From the corner of my eyes I could see her giving me a worried glance.

The word finally ripped the man out of his freight with a small jolt, and he finally averted his gaze. “Ah, y-yes. T-Thank you, Ingrid. You may leave.”

To his credit, he did catch himself fast.

“Are you sure, Director?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m sure. Thank you.” He gave her a nod, and after another moment of uncertainty the woman finally left.

Taking that as my queue, I also finally turned my gaze away from the man, giving Mister Shiltain a small smile and a nod, then made my way over to take a seat next to the merchant. The man in question, for his part, eyed both the director and me with some uncertainty, clearly not sure what was going on.

“Before we continue,” I said, when I sat down, giving first Mister Shiltain a small sideways glance, before once again fixing the other man present with my gaze. “I don’t know what went through your head when you saw me, little Wyrmling,” he flinched at the word, “but I have no business with you. I’m simply a traveller.”

“I-I see.” The words were strained, and while he attempted to relax a bit, he still remained rather stiff.

“May I ask what is going on?” Mister Shiltain asked, still entirely left out of the exchange.

Granted, I didn’t know much more than him. But I wasn’t sure if I should tell him that he was sitting across a lesser Wyvern in human form. The director was obviously terrified by my presence, although I didn’t know exactly why. Even from the little I knew from Vuthe’s memory, there hadn’t been any obvious conflicts between draconics and lesser draconics, nor did he seem to be someone Vuthe knew personally.

Which, to be honest, made sense. Wyverns, even the greater ones, only lived around five hundred years or so. Which meant it was highly unlikely that he had been alive during Vuthe’s times.

Still, at the merchant’s question, the director gave me a hesitant glance, as if seeking my council. I gave him a small shrug, making it clear I wouldn’t say anything if he didn't.

“Nothing. Just… surprised by her presence is all.”

Mister Shiltain didn’t seem convinced, and he glanced between the two of us again. “Do you perhaps know the director in charge of this branch?” The question was obviously meant for me.

“Not personally, no. In fact, I’d be surprised to see if I knew any current member of the guild’s administration.”

“Wait… I thought you were an adventurer yourself?”

I chuckled at the man’s confused tone. “I’m actually not, no. I’ve been… busy for the past couple of centuries. The last time I was out and about the guild was nothing more than a rumour in some backwater city. That said, I do plan to sign up, once we reach Vastell.”

“A couple of centuries?” Mister Shiltain sounded even more confused, although now there was an edge of suspicion to his voice. His tiredness remained, although I could see in his eyes that he was suddenly recalculating what he might have to pay for my help.

“No need to get your knickers in a twist. I told you before that I need no compensation for my assistance. Now, back to the topic at hand?”

“Ah… Yes… Yes, of course.” The older man cleared his throat, obviously trying to regain some balance. “You said you had news in regards to the wounded, yes?”

I nodded. “Lady Cecily managed to figure out how to properly remove the void taint. It’s not a deliberate affliction, simply a byproduct of the fight itself, otherwise it would’ve been far harder. The void is a nasty thing, it eats magic. Hence why Lady Nyx’ efforts have been so unrewarded up until now. That said, even though we now know how to get rid of it, it doesn’t mean it’s easy or quick. Void is inherently dangerous, and we want to prevent any accidents, so Lady Cecily decided to work slowly. From what she told me, and what I’ve seen her do, it would likely take a day or two, maybe a bit more, to get rid of everything. It’s hard to give a proper estimate, since there are a lot of factors that could impact the treatment.”

The man nodded, obviously adjusting his mental calculations. Before he could reply, though, the director spoke up.

“If you wouldn’t mind me asking, my Lady. Could you tell me more about this… taint? Mister Shiltain has given me a summary of events, but he couldn’t tell me much about that particular aspect of the tale. And from what you’ve said so far, it sounds like the sort of threat the guild needs to hear about.”

I noted that even now he tried to avoid direct eye contact. It made me wonder just what exactly he saw in me. Did he perhaps recognise Vuthe? Something to ask him later.

“Not surprising. I doubt that there are many who could even recognise the affliction. Truly, I’d be surprised to hear if there are more than a handful of scholars between all the various royal academies who would know what it is, how to spot it, and what to do about it.” I grimaced at the thought. How many would die because they just didn’t know how to treat it? “Anyway, the taint. As I said previously, it’s not an affliction in the traditional sense. It’s more like a by-product. Like a fingerprint you leave behind when touching a freshly cleaned glass with sweaty hands. It’s not deliberate, and because it’s void magic, it’s very hard to spot. Void isn’t technically a type of magic, it’s the polar opposite of magic. The absence of magic. There are some who are capable of sensing it, mostly because they have such an intrinsic understanding of what magic looks like that the absence of it sticks out to them. But those are ancient wizards and warlocks, spellcasters who have spent their entire lifetime and more studying magic. Most just simply lack the experience with it.”

There was a moment of silence as they digested that. The director seemed to have gotten over his earlier freight, now exuding worry and focus. “And what can be done about it?”

“That’s the tricky thing. From what I can tell–and please bear in mind that I am far from an expert on the subject matter, I simply possess a lot of accumulated knowledge–you’d need a mage specialised in void magic. And that is tricky. Because as I said, void is the absence of magic. It erases it. If any normal spellcaster, be it a wizard, a witch, a warlock, a sorcerer, a bard, or even a magus, were to try and cast a spell of the Void, they would slowly but surely destroy their own body and mind. And that is assuming that they can learn it in the first place. As much as people argue about it for time immemorial, affinities are a thing, and there are precious few who have one for the void.”

“Then how is Lady Cecily able to treat it?” Mister Shiltain’s tone of voice made it clear that he had a pretty good guess as to why, but needed it confirmed regardless.

“Because she is a void mage. To be precise, she is a Spellblade, one specialised in external casting–Void Calling, as some of the ancient scholars would call it. Where most modern mages are Shapers, using their will to shape their magic through their own bodies, Callers specialise in directly materialising their spells into the world without channeling it through their bodies. It’s an old technique, and one that has fallen wildly out of use, given that in most cases, Shaping has more benefits. As you attune yourself to your magic, you become more resistant to it, your body becomes stronger. The only downside Shaping has compared to Calling is that it leaves a trace of yourself in the spell, which makes it easy to trace back to you. The only times where Calling is more beneficial is when you are using affinities that are inherently dangerous to living tissue, such as Void, Rot, or Dreams. The last one is a bit of an edge case, but the point remains. It’s harder to pull off, but required under some circumstances.”

Another moment of silence passed as the two digested that. It was pretty clear that Mister Shiltain had some trouble following, which didn’t surprise me. The man wasn’t a mage, so he likely didn’t have the required education to really understand the differences. The director, on the other hand, seemed troubled. Which didn’t surprise me.

Wyverns, even the lesser ones, were beings of magic. Among them, or any draconic beings for that matter, there were no Callers. The source of our magic was our own being, so casting spells without channeling them through us was just physically impossible. It was, in part, the reason why Rot affinity, or Dream affinity, draconics were so rare and often feared. The more magic they used, the more they were subject to their influence. With most magic that wasn’t a problem. But Rot could quickly tear your body apart, and Dream had the bad tendency to inflict mental trauma, if not carefully used.

As for Void affinity… If my knowledge of the lore was translated correctly, Void affinity draconics didn’t exist at all. Even if one was born, they would basically annihilate themselves immediately.

That said, every rule had exceptions. I knew that Apocalyptica, for example, had learned how to use some aspects of the Void through his own unique rune magic. It was the reason it was so extraordinarily complicated, and impossible to decipher by anyone but him. He had, after all, studied under Abyss for a time. Something that I–as the author–knew, but might not even be something Vuthe was aware of.

“I hope it goes without saying,” I continued after the silence dragged on for a few moments, “That you shouldn’t run around telling everyone about Lady Cecily’s skills. While it’s not exactly a secret, I don’t think I need to spell out what would happen if it became widespread knowledge. I may not know the woman for long, but I’d be loathed to see her hunted down and treated like a trophy. Or think about what would happen to those who decide to do the hunting.”

That ripped them both out of their thoughts, and after a brief moment, each of them gave me a small nod.

Join my patreon to read up to five chapters ahead!