The Drake of Craumont

After the hug, we unfortunately need to go back downstairs and ask questions.

Well, by we, I mean Ruby is asking questions, because Gods I am not dealing with these people. I’d rather get dragged to Winston’s parties— at least nobles just want you for schemes instead of hating your existence. Granted, the latter is mutual.

Anyways. Lena is talking to someone about Church things, and I'm standing here getting stared at by people in purple robes. They're trying to be subtle, too, and I've no clue if that makes it better or worse.

Mm, no. Definitely worse. Once again, noble parties would be better, and I might’ve been able to soften the blow with four or five bottles of wine.

"I suppose it makes sense," Alain admits, replying to words I didn't bother to absorb. "Bitgarm often went to bed early, as expected for someone of his age. But to imagine he might have been sneaking out like a child, night after night, and we never noticed?"

The person talking to Lena laughs sharply, and the room turns toward them. Cheeks flushing red, they cough into a fist. "My bad. Uh, I just thought, you know, we were all worried about Ei— oh, sorry— Lena sneaking out to visit the Crawford Manor, and there was a way bigger problem we didn't notice."

I narrow my eyes. Maybe there's something funny about that, I guess? I'd thump my tail, but the carpet in here looks especially linty.

Lena shuffles in place, eyes focused on her feet. "Um. Apology accepted," she sighs, one hand going up to adjust her muffler cap. "But we don't really, ah. Do we know where he could have gone?"

Alain scowls. More than his usual around me, to be specific. "Less of a clue than I would like, and what I have is now in Detective Gelson's hands."

"Bitgarm Dongbaek successfully avoided suspicion for an indeterminate amount of time, likely his entire tenure as Priest," Ruby states. "Your testimony has provided important evidence for his capture."

A burst of chatter, and all of it washes past me as senseless noise. Lena's voice, though, rises through the rush: "Oh! That's… that's good."

More than good, really. From Ruby's regular looks at the door, we're nearly free of this awful building. Thank the Goddess for that.

"I'd certainly agree. Before you continue, however," Alain says loudly, the muscles in his neck tensing. I watch as he turns to face me properly, chin tilted so our eyes might meet. "I must ask the Dame a question."

That puts a stop to the clamour, pleasantly enough. Honestly, I'm tempted to leave it there— "no" weighs heavy on the tip of my tongue.

My tailtip taps against the floor, though, and I shrug. "Get on with it, then."

Alain's lips twitch, blurring past an expression I don't care to read. He steps toward me, chin tilting further to keep his gaze locked with mine.

"Dame Crawford." Lips part, lips close, his throat bobs. "Our traitorous priest made an attempt on your life— and on one of our own. Do you plan on holding us to account?"

The room holds its breath, and I know damn well what he's doing. I was raised to politic, to connect these pointless webs of intrigue and intent and public opinion. A hundred lessons whisper from memory: keep them on hooks and threads. Postpone the choice, keep the power.

Heat bursts from within, though, and offers a second path: punish them. Hurt them, claw them, tear them apart for the misery they've caused. For the year in a courthouse, for giving me no time to mourn anything. Pride demands its pound of flesh.

My tail comes up, slipping into my scaled palms. I run a claw down my scaly tail, click click clack, and drag my thoughts back. It soothes the growl building in my chest.

Neither of those is justice, is it? No matter how satisfying— and I'd just hurt Lena more, on top of all that. So I swallow my damned pride and open my mouth.

"Bah," I grumble, eyeing Alain carefully. "No, not really."

The room exhales— well, save for Ruby, who nods before launching into yet more questions. Thank the Goddess for that, really, and I thank her doubly when Ruby starts moving toward the exit.

If anyone asks me to go back in there, I'm just going to say no.

---

From the looks of things, Ruby's walking to the Wildflower District. If almost anybody else had decided our path without so much as telling me, I'd probably be walking home instead... but, well. It's Ruby, and Lena's keen on following her, so it's not terrible. Worst case, we’re on an undeclared food run, and I can work with that.

"Um—"

"So—"

After a near-minute of relative quiet as Ruby walks and scratches in her notebook, Lena and I manage to speak within a heartbeat of each other.

Lena's ears flop down as we exchange glances, and she gives me a look I have no clue how to interpret. Something with eyes and lips and a shift of facial muscles, same as every other oddly specific expression.

I gesture with my hand and tail, snorting. "Probably saying the same thing, Lena. Go on."

She shuffles in place, flashing me a smile. "Thanks, Ivy. Um, Detective Gelson, what's next? Y-you said you got important evidence from Dongbaek’s room."

The scratching stops, and Ruby frowns.

"Somewhat," she declares, and the writing resumes once more. "One moment."

I feel tempted to laugh and snarl, all at the same time. Ruby's good at that.

Lena, from her heartbeat, is a bit more annoyed than I am. I hesitantly put a hand on her shoulder, and she leans into it.

"Ivy, is it possible that Dongbaek could create wards?" Ruby asks flatly.

"Possible?" I snort, clicking my tail against the street. "Wouldn't be shocked if that Mage he talked about was just him. He's got enough magic to pull it off, I think. Some of those Ice tricks were… tricky, so he's got some skill with structures."

Tricks were tricky. Good job, Ivy.

"From how far away can you detect a ward?"

I blink and grin. "Not a damn clue. Stop here, I'll check."

I slow to a stop at an oddly angled street corner, standing between the painted flowers and away from the ever-flowing current of Craumont's people. Past noon, there's a just bit of shade to stand in, and I leave my tail outside of it to soak up the sunlight.

Someone, my instincts murmur, is staring. But when I look up and around, the worst thing I can see is more Restoration members, their gazes shying the moment I glance their way. There’s something satisfying about their worry, honestly.

"Oh, I think I can smell the bakery…" Lena says quietly, or, well, tries to say quietly. Hunger and excitement lift it up all at once, and they threaten to take me along with it. "By the Restoration, um. Why am I hungry again?"

Snorting, I flick my tail at Lena. Now that she's mentioned it, the fragrance of wheat and wheat-spiked potato flour that…

Gods. Why am I hungry again, too? Maybe a food run isn’t a bad idea.

Rather than think about that, I take a deep breath and dive. Mind and magic snap together around a fractured soul; a form of scales and storms takes shape, eager to plunge into the abstract. Claws of will carry me deeper, down, down, down through the World's flowing fabric. To test myself against the abstract once more has my blood pumping, and my tail begs to swing freely. It'd probably break a few legs, though, so I press it firmly into the cobbled street instead.

It is so much easier than before... or, more likely, it’s just trivial in comparison to my second physical encounter with the abstract.

The thrum of magic guides me, but I do not move toward it; I am here to see my range, not my ability to swim through impossibility. And… there! Well. Nowhere, because the abstract lacks material substance, but the thrum of wards is unmistakable. Most wards should be, hm. Slightly above me, save for the city wards.

My tail proves an even better rudder than before, pushing me up and down until I've gotten where I want to be. I'm not looking for any particular wards, though a quick glance shows several tiny mechanisms and alarms, so I peer to the edge of my sight and use those tiny mechanisms to see where my interpretation ceases to apply.

And then, carefully, I open my eyes.

Light. Sound. A cold breeze prickles at my scales as the World pours in over my abstract sight. The abstract, interpreted, should be beyond my vision; however, I can still "see" it as if through thick glass.

"Bit weird to look at from here," I say aloud. I take a few steps back, squint— can squinting really do anything? Bah, probably not— and come back with an answer. "Ten marches, maybe twelve, but this'll give me a headache if I do it too long."

"Will you, um, need help moving around? I've tried using interpretation, but I always lose my sight." Lena asks, stepping forward and peering up at me. Her turquoise eyes glow even more brightly in my twin sights. "Oh, no, you're— fascinating! "

The last word comes out breathily, and the more metaphorical cogs start whirring behind Lena's eyes.

I raise an eyebrow.

Lena flushes, ears flattening against her cap. "Um. Right. You're using interpretation and regular sight at the same time, I think? I've read about it, but Classical Magecraft only references it briefly! Are you substituting another sense? Oh, can you sense any archetypes of magic on me? I know that—”

She stops herself, turning an even brighter shade of red. “Sorry.”

I drag myself out of the depths with a flick of my soul-tail, surfacing back into the World proper. The layer of abstraction disappears, and the headache looming on the horizon of my mind wanders off with barely a grumble.

Unfortunately, now I have to put up with everything else being brought back into sharp relief: the rumbling of carriage wheels, the neighing of horses, the cluster of gossippers forming across the street. Yes, my tail is longer, and unfortunately, I didn't magically become a dragon while ripping my way out of a Delve. Still a Drake, still can't breathe fire.

I could work on Lightning breath, though. Hm. I set that aside, and run my thoughts back over Lena’s wall of questions. Let’s see...

"In order? I’m not losing a sense, and no, it just takes some practice," I tap my temple with a claw, matching the little smile that forms on Lena's face. "Gives me a headache if I try and push it, but that's normal."

I pause for a moment. “I can’t see archetypes like that, you’d need to be holding onto a lot of magic for a structure. You don’t usually pick up a new archetype on accident, either, so you’d know if it was happening.”

“Well, I’ve been trying to connect with Fire, so...” Lena's eyes flash an even brighter turquoise before dimming back to neutral. "I— mm. I should, ah, probably wait on trying that out… and maybe ask Verity about Fire?"

I grunt, looking away to hide my scowl. “Can’t ask me about it. Fire doesn’t even like me in crystal form.”

"Ten marches. Hm," Ruby notes, dragging the focus away from my pout. Ruby scratches something down in her notebook, nods, and writes some more. "I have written my thoughts to avoid disclosing sensitive information to the public."

She turns her notebook around, holding up her words for us to see. Lena's head and ears immediately block my vision, and it takes a careful touch on the shoulder to correct that.

Ruby's writing is like the woman herself: curt, precise, and just scribbly enough to merit a squint and second thought.

Bitgarm Dongbaek has hidden secrets from Craumont for years, theoretically. Meticulous. Paranoid, possibly (see BD profile 7). Likely that Bitgarm Dongbaek has set up wards at hidden residence.Combine profile with IC's ward detection; all we need is a narrow area of search for IC to walk.

"All we need is…" I read aloud, trailing off with a click of my tail. I guess I'm IC in her notes, eh? Not the strangest nickname I've had.

"He's paranoid," Lena sighs, ears flicking. "Gods. Um. This all makes sense? So how do we find the… narrowed area? We were, ah, walking somewhere, so."

Ruby swings the book around, nodding sharply. "I will have to investigate further."

It doesn't take long for me to connect the threads, and the result bubbles out as a soft growl. "Mind sharing where you were taking us, then?"

She frowns. "The bakery. I am still hungry."

A giggle bursts from Lena's lips, strange and shrill like steam from a train whistle. It softens as she goes, mellowing from worrying to just concerning. "G-gods. Restoration. Um. I could, ah. I'd like something too, actually!"

And I would as well, but I bite that back with another growl and balance it with a rumbling laugh. “Ha! Figured it was that or the Wildflower District. Tell us next time, though.”

I watch Ruby's cheeks tinge with the barest hint of rose-red. "Ah. I should have clarified. My apologies, Ivy."

"Accepted," I grunt, nodding at Ruby. "You didn't mean it, I know. So what's the plan then?"

Ruby opens her mouth.

"After the bakery," I stress, lips twitching upward.

She closes her mouth, matching my expression as cogs whir in her head. After a moment, she says, "I will continue investigating after the bakery. We will meet again tomorrow."

"Good," I nod, turning toward the bakery. "Let's get some pastries."

"Yes."

Lena, for some reason, giggles. When I ask about it, she just waves vaguely at us and promises that she's not laughing at us.

Bah.

---

A blinding inevitability awaits us at the Sharrow Avenue bakery, and I know it long before I see her or the bakery. Specifically, I hear her, and given this is at least the second time? Probably going to be a theme, when finding Verity.

And as we pass through another park, Lena picks up on it, too. Her ears perk, and her body follows with straightened posture and hastened steps.

"—more good questions! I like that attitude, keep asking. I don't enforce the law, that'd be legal justice: catching pickpockets, rounding up people for an investigation, whatever is writ to paper that the law says needs doing. That's in contrast to Adamantine and moral justice, making sure—"

Her voice really carries, doesn't it? I’ll hazard that the scattered people using the park could hear it too, if they paid close attention. Most won’t, though, given they’re all staring at us with varying levels of subtlety.

"Verity's there!" Lena calls, looking back at me. Her nose wrinkles. "Um, isn't she supposed to be…"

"Paladin Verity Greyfeather has been active within the city since yesterday morning," Ruby interjects flatly. "Largely focused on lowering civilian agitation."

"And she's supposed to be resting," I follow up, punctuating my words with an irritable tail-tap. "Guess I am too, though. Can't really criticize."

"Y-you are?" Lena frowns at me, brow furrowing. She slows down to line up with my side, sidestepping a muddy patch at the edge of the park. "Ivy! If the healers tell you to rest, it's important! I've read about healing and strain, pushing yourself when you're injured is—"

"Lena," I speak over her, fighting a smile and keeping my tail from slapping the sides of the alley. "Thanks, but I heal quickly. My body is fine, I just can't…"

Feeling a gaze burning into my neck, I look back at Ruby. "Eh. Probably shouldn't say that one in public, right?"

Ruby inclines her head. "Yes."

Lena's throat bobs, her ears twitch, and she turns her focus back toward the street. "I'll, ah, ask later. I'm just… worried, you know."

"Many are. Her health status is a subject of concern," Ruby notes from behind me. "It is good to know you are doing well.

Gods, what do I say to that?

Well. Nothing, actually; we finally step from the alley onto Sharrow Avenue, and the scents of bread and honey hit full force. Such force insists I buy one, maybe four, pastries for myself.

It takes less than a heartbeat to find Verity, of course; she's leaning back in a chair, one arm draped over the side and the other waggling a quarter of a pastry at six people I don't recognize. She's dressed in a white blouse and black pants, with sleeves rolled up to bare her toned, bird-scaled arms. Feathers still line her joy-creased eyes, a greyish impression of a half-mask around deep blue sclera and burning yellow irises.

And, of course, the ever-present hawkish smile. Subtly trained, but present nonetheless.

"—runs a really, really weird line between just and unjust forms of restitution. Mob imprisonment is…"

Her eyes flick across us, and her smile… well, it's just about as gratingly bright as before, but it softens a little. "Well! If it isn't the lovely ladies! Ivy, Detective Gelson, and Lena, it’s been too long. Tell you what, Carrow, are you going to be here tomorrow? I'd love to continue this."

"If you don't mind it much, miss Paladin, I'd love to," says someone I assume is named Carrow, hat in hand. "Followers of the Hero and Goddess both, and the books in the library don't do it justice."

Verity raises a finger in the air, light glinting off a pointed nail. She twirls it around with a grin, ending it with an open palm toward the sky. "Whenever the Dame is involved, things get weird fast, so… two hours past noon? The rest of you are invited too, of course."

When her eyes sweep over the little group, I see five flinches... well, six, if you count Verity's own, but I doubt anyone else could see such a tiny lurch. Still, her words draw a gentle chuckle from several of them, albeit at my expense. Bah.

"Not everything we do, um. Gets weird!" Lena protests, "Ivy does a bunch of Delves where n-nothing odd happens!"

After a pause, Verity winks, and Lena's ears flatten. She clears her throat. "Oh! And, good afternoon, Verity!"

"Good afternoon, Paladin Greyfeather," Ruby says flatly, following after. "May Adamantine's light bless your path."

"Ooh, still formal with me, Detective? I’ll wear you down someday, I’m sure of it!" Verity chuckles, rising from her chair. She spares another glance at the group of civilians, smiling softly. "So, two past noon works? I'll pay for snacks, even if you bring friends. No, especially!”

She gets a chorus of agreements, and the group scatters to the winds… not before several of them give us a bow and thank us for our work. It'd be hard to miss how their eyes trail to my tail and claws, or the way they studiously avoid my face.

With that done, though, Verity turns to focus on us fully, waving us inside. “Come on in! Let’s talk and snack some more. I miiight have forgotten breakfast, but I’m pretty sure this counts if you squint.”

She winks, taking a huge bite of her pastry.

It takes me three long strides to catch up to Lena and Ruby, plus another to step around a large boxed fern and get next to Verity. "Lena's right, you know. We've just had Mireise's worst luck since you got here."

Verity snorts through a mouthful of pastry, chewing quickly and swallowing. "Yet she's your guild's patron god, hm? I'd tell you you're supposed to be in bed… but I'm a bit of a rest escapee as well. We’d have to go to bed together, wouldn’t we?”

She winks, wiping her mouth before grinning toothily.

I blink, clicking my tail along the cobbled street. Gods, she’s forward today, isn’t she. “Is this really the time, Verity?”

“When isn’t it?” Her smile goes lopsided, and I find myself matching it.

Which is when Lena catches up, with Ruby only a half step behind— and just as we reach the door to the bakery, too.

"Ah," Lena starts, taking a steadying breath, "Uhm. I-I'm glad you're feeling well enough for all this, Verity!"

"Well, I need to get used to the new look, right?" Verity trills, raising an arm to show the bird-scale running from mid-forearm to the back of her hand. "Devastatingly pretty, I know. And I could dismiss it, but even a whisper of magic brings it back. Same with the eyes, unfortunately."

That earns a raised eyebrow from me. She looks far better like this, the same way Lena looks better with her new ears. "Unfortunately?"

"Gives some people the shivers, which isn’t ideal," she agrees, using that same arm to grab the door handle and pull the door open. "So, what are you girls here for? Other than me, of course."

"Pastries," Ruby declares, walking in first. "I am hungry. Thank you, Paladin Greyfeather."

"Ah, Gelson's going to narrow our search area," Lena adds, following Ruby through. "We, um, just wanted pastries."

"That," I say, gesturing to Lena and walking through the door. "You?"

Verity chuckles, grinning widely. "Looking for the both of you! The town gossip’s gone Ivy and Lena shaped, and I want to see my friends."

And softly, gently, with all the weight of a knife to the throat, I feel eyes peel off my back as the door closes behind me.

Have I been watched—

No, I'm a Delver. My body is built to hunt even the strangest prey, surely I would have... no. Back in the Delve, back with Dongbaek, I’d made mistakes I thought beneath me. I think back on my day, on the hundreds of eyes I'd grown so used to; had any been more than that? Had...

Purple robes, watching from the alley. Again at the corner, and a flash of purple in the park mere minutes ago. The Church hates me, I hate them, so why should I care when they stare oddly?

...but all three of the captured attackers were former Restoration followers, weren't they.

Gods. Dragging the Wind into my throat, I lower my voice beyond the range of human ears and murmur, “Have they been following you, too?”

The words make my throat ache beyond belief, and my soul groans in protest. But it’s done.

Verity's eyes go wide, her jaw clenches, and everything comes together in a violent flash of white-yellow eyes. Her voice is soft, barely audible: “Goddess. I think so.”