“I had little to tell him, but he seemed satisfied enough with that.” Rotgoriel finished.

Rich looked down. Then he heaved a great sigh. “He didn't tell you what was going on with Cutter, did he?”

“Not a bit.” Rotgoriel shook his head. “And his attitude was such that I understood it was not my place to ask.”

“Just when I think I have it figured, we get more questions.” Rich grimaced. “After the dragon surprise, I was hoping there wouldn't be any more surprises with this mission.”

“Dragon surprise? Did the villagers react that poorly to our revelation? I thought Aunarox prepared them.” Rotgoriel blinked. It was so hard to think. He was so very, very tired. This space between world was as draining as it had been last time, and even with time slowed he could feel his human body relaxing into the bed that it lay upon.

“No. See, the villagers got up here, and there was this one woman named Agnez, and...”

Rich explained, but Rotgoriel barely heard the words after a moment, as his weariness fell aside and eager excitement built within him. “Another dragon? There us another dragon? Switch bodies with me immediately!”

“I... no. Look, I'm going to talk to her in a few minutes here, and—”

“Richard Royal! You are in my body! Give it back to me. Now.”

“I was afraid of this. Look, I'm handling the situation, and things are going well.”

“I have never met another of my kind.”

“I...”

“I have been alone for all of my life.”

“Fuck.”

It was a strange thing, seeing that expression on his own face. In that single eye was pity, pity that for a second set Rotgoriel's rage stirring, but he shoved it down. This was not the time to throw a tantrum.

Silence, for a moment, there between the worlds as the stars twisted at the edge of the mirror's frame. The darkness between was tight with tension, and finally came a draconic sigh, before Rich spoke again. “The problem is that this one is sharp. Smarter than me and you combined. If you go in now, she'll figure out something is going on. You won't remember what I discussed with her, and little details will matter, since she's suspicious of us already.”

“Unless we share our memories again,” Rotgoriel pointed out.

“Ah. Yeah.”

Long silence.

“You believe that I am imaginary,” Rotgoriel said. “You were told that, and it preys on your mind, still.”

“It does.”

“Then what does it matter? Share memories with me. If I am all in your mind anyway, then what harm is there in flinging me up to speed?”

“Bringing you up to speed.”

“Yes, that. What harm? P... pl...” he forced himself to say the word, though it was blasphemy to dragons. “Please.”

“You've definitely grown, Rot,” Rich sighed, and the dragon fought to keep the glee off his face. He knew he'd won. “All those charisma ranks have paid off.”

“Yes!” Rotgoriel burst out, and threw himself forward.

It was a place where minds were matter. Where physical forms weren't such a big deal.

And as the two bodies made of thought and will flowed into each other, Rotgoriel gained in a heartbeat the knowledge and experience of his brother.

“Agnez,” he purred, when it was done. “Oh she is beautiful.”

“I should have known that was your prime motivation,” Rich sighed. “Fuck. You're pretty much right past dragon puberty, aren't you?”

“That was not my only motivation,” Rotgoriel protested. “I still want to meet her. And now I will. Thank you for that, brother. You have been kind to me, and I shall not forget that.”

“And you managed to get through a meeting with Mayhew without getting us shot, so tell you what, debt's paid. Don't worry about it. Just ah... just now's maybe not the time to try to romance Agnez. Stay focused.”

“But... yes. I know that. But I want her to think...” Rotgoriel scrambled for the proper way to say things in language that Rich would understand, but he was so tired, so sleepy. “I want her to think I am the cool!”

“Dude. Man. Oh lord...” Now that Rotgoriel had more grasp of a human mind, he understood what it meant when Rich put his clawed hand over his remaining eye. “Look. From what I've seen as an interested and sadly excluded observer, desperation is not cool. It's ugly. And look, we might have to end up killing her, so you shouldn't—”

“That will never happen,” Rotgoriel said. “Dragons do not kill other dragons.”

“How sure are you on that?”

“See, this is why you need me talking with her,” Rotogoriel put a solemn expression on his face. “The ancestors spent years teaching me how to be a dragon. I know the rules. I know the expectations. The port of call.”

“Protocol.”

“Yes, that too. Rich, I have this. I can do this.”

“All right. Look, you talked me into it. And frankly if it goes bad I can focus on what Mayhew wants me to do. Just... for the love of god, who might or might not exist, please don't try too hard to impress her. Just... be yourself. Don't be desperate. If you act like a moron I guarantee you she won't want to date—”

“Mate.”

“Whatever. Realize that she's got a life and ninety-nine problems and all that stuff, and adding you to the equation just might increase her difficulties. Let her sort stuff out and don't try to push her to what you want her to be. Don't rush things.”

“You have a lot of advice for someone who's never mated.”

Oh, the anger that blazed from that single eye.

“Right. I'm logging out now. You deal with it. If she rips your throat out then that's your problem, not mine.”

“She won't—” abruptly Rotgoriel was back in Richard's room. “Do that,” he finished.

His eyes closed, as weariness overtook him. He yawned wide—

—and when he closed his mouth he was a dragon again.

Moreover, he was in a cave, an unfamiliar one. It smelled good, smelled of her, and the memories he'd exchanged with his human brother came back to him. Agnez had whispered that he should wait in her lair and touch NOTHING, and she would return to speak with him at length.

And he was holding a mirror. He turned it in his claws, used it to look himself over.

Then almost dropped the thing in shock, as an ugly mockery of a dragon's face entered the reflection and peered back at him through too-small spectacles. “Geebo! Do not sneak up on me like that!”

“Sorry, sorry master. Very sorry. Your human asked for the mirror, so I had to give it to you.”

“Well take it back now. Keep it safe in the pack.”

He watched the lanky thing that Geebo had become funble with his backpack, unwrapping cords to replace the precious artifact inside. It would be impossible to replace if broken, he'd quite literally burned the one who could do that.

“How do I look?” he asked, finally.

“Like... yourself?” Came Geebo's hesitant answer.

“He said to be myself,” Rotgoriel muttered. “Am I clean? Scales set properly?”

“Well... yes. Aside from some blood and gouges from those beasts we killed.”

“Beasts...” Rotgoriel searched his brother's memories. It was easier now, that his body and brain weren't exhausted. He had no doubt that Richard had fallen right to sleep in the other world. And thankfully his mind worked properly and brought up images of a large, rainbow colored wolf and some kind of bear-rhinoceros thing earlier. “Yes. We killed them to protect the villagers. No wonder my mouth tastes salty. Wait, I have blood on me? Clean that! And I have gouges? Status.”

Name: Rutger Royal

Age: 3

Jobs:

Cleric (Konol) 1, Cultist (Anjuuta) 7, Young Dragon (Stone) 10

Attributes Pools Defenses

Strength: 336 Constitution: 336 Hit Points: 672/609 Armor: 190

Intelligence: 62 Wisdom: 74 Sanity: 136 /130 Mental Fortitude: 190

Dexterity: 16 Agility: 40 Stamina: 56/29 Endurance: 25

Charisma: 56 Willpower: 331 Moxie: 387/361 Cool: 165

Perception: 302 Luck: 56 Fortune: 358/355 Fate: 18

General Skills

Brawling – Level 17

Climb – Level 4

Dodge – Level 13

Fly – Level 19

Ride – Level 1

Stealth – Level 5

Swim – Level 2

Stone Dragon Skills

Burninate – Level 13

Chomp – Level 11

Draconic Tongue – Level N/A

Dragonseye – Level 16

Earth Resistance – Level N/A

Flameborn – Level N/A

Hoarder – Level 1

Limited Equipment – Level N/A

No Thumbs – Level N/A

Sandblast – Level 1

Scaly Wings – Level N/A

Slow to Age – Level N/A

Tail Slap – Level 4

Cleric Skills

Blessing – Level N/A

Faith – Level N/A

Godspell:

Holy Smite – Level 1

Lesser Healing – Level 1

Shield of Divinity – Level 1

Cultist Skills

Conceal Status – Level 2

Curses – Level 1

Dark Chant – Level 1

Darkspell: Fool's Gold – Level 1

Enhance Pain – Level 1

Occult Eye – Level N/A

Servant of Darkness – Level N/A

Transfer Wounds – Level 1

Unhinged Mind – Level N/A

Unlocked Jobs

Conjuror, Fire Elementalist, Grifter, Knight

Gear:

Mirror of Planar Contact, Assorted low-level reagents and crystals, and a dozen bits of golden furnishings and random objects.

“Six hundred and nine? Oh, that's too low to be presentable! Geebo, treat my wounds.”

“I... Master, I fear I cannot.”

A wave of irritation rolled through Rotgoriel. The transformed draggit's shape still annoyed him, still spoke to something in the back of his mind that wanted the warped creature dead.

And if he had been the dragon his ancestors had wanted him to be, perhaps he would have listened to his instincts.

But he was not. He was tainted by humans, by one of them, at least. And he could not, would not throw away one of his few friends over a bunch of dead old jerks who had forgotten their own youths long ago. “Bitches all,” Rotgoriel rumbled.

“Master?”

“Nothing. You cannot heal me.”

“No, Master. I am not a Cleric. I have no skills for that.”

Rotgoriel blinked his eye.

“I'm a damned fool.”

“No, Mast—”

“I am. I'm a Cleric! Why the hell am I not healing myself? The name of the skill is right there in my status! Lesser Healing!”

A slight throb in his skull, as part of his sanity fled. And then...

You have healed yourself for 1 HP!

Your Lesser Healing skill is now level 2!

“Well, that was pathetic. But fairly inexpensive, so... Lesser Healing!”

You have healed yourself for 2 HP!

Your Lesser Healing skill is now level 3!

“Lesser Healing!”

You have healed yourself for 2 HP!

Your Lesser Healing skill is now level 4!

It was slow, and laborious, and the ache slowly grew in his mind...

...until about the tenth casting, when suddenly all his aches left, all at once, and refreshment swept through him like a wave of light, as...

You are now a level 2 Cleric!

CON+3

LUCK+3

WIS+3

“Hhhhhh,” Rotgoriel sighed as all his weariness vanished, his pools of energy returning to their full states. “That's all it took? I should have been doing this more.” His HP hadn't refilled, of course. The world didn't work that way. But several more castings got the job done, and his skill up to nine. Not another level though, which was a pity. But that could come later.

“She comes!” Geebo whispered, and Rotgoriel glanced down to see the drakkit peering out of the cave.

“Get behind me, Geebo,” Rotgoriel commanded.

Frills drooping, his minion did as he bade. “She is not alone,” he added, before tucking himself behind Rotgoriel's bulk and hunkering down.

And she wasn't. Through the howling of the mountain winds, Rotgoriel could hear two sets of feet crunching on the stony ice.

“Right,” Agnez said, antlers bobbling on her headband as she led a shivering Bortiz into the cave. “Let's get this over with.”

Rotgoriel examined the yellow '1's '2's and '3's that oozed out of the man's head like a slow drip from a tap. “Will he not fall unconscious?”

“No. Eat your cheese, Tinty.”

The haggard man dug in his pockets, pulled out a white wedge and gnawed on it, dutifully. The numbers slowed and stopped.

“That should keep him going through our conversation,” Agnez said, looking Rotgoriel up and down... then startling, as she caught two more eyes than expected peering back at her. “What the hells is that?” She reached behind her, and started to draw a staff from its harness.

“My servant,” Rotgoriel rumbled. “He kept the animals from eating yours.” He nodded at Bortiz.

“It's hideous!” She kept the staff half-drawn. “What is it?”

“A drakkit.”

“You mean a draggit? I thought they were supposed to be small and cute, and not... that.”

Rotgoriel felt Geebo stir at his side, didn't have to look to know the little guy's frill's were drooping.

He felt a surge of anger bubble up inside. “He has been a good and faithful servant. His appearance is none of your concern.”

“Hmff,” she snorted. But she slid the staff back into place, then sat on a nearby rock. “It's the least of the problems you've brought to my doorstep. So. Someone tried to get you fighting me. Who was it? What did they have to gain?”

“As it turns out, a traitor. A servant turned against his master, though I did not know it at the time.”

“Give me a name.”

“Nerguin.”

She laughed, long and hard. The sound was oddly enjoyable, he found he liked watching her laugh, even if it was at him. “There's your first clue you shouldn't have trusted him. That name means 'nobody,' in one of the local tongues.”

“It was never a matter of trust. Just one of debt to his master. That debt shall be repaid differently.”

“How so?”

“Probably none of your concern,” Rotgoriel finished. “I have answered three of your questions freely thus far, since this is your home and I am your guest. Now I am due answers of my own”

Her eye twitched, just a bit.

This, this was one of the reasons that Rotgoriel had wanted to be the one talking for this conversation, instead of Richard. Not the main one, true, but the fact was that he had been listening when the ancestors had actually been bothering to pass on useful information. There were a ton of little customs and traditions that he could exploit in this situation, that Richard would be slower to catch. If he even thought to in the first place.

“Of course,” she responded. “Though I have told you a fact freely, I believe that counts as one answer.”

“I find that sensible,” Rotgoriel nodded.

“Actually,” Geebo said, his voice wobbling as she shot him a glare. “He... ah, he did not ask, so it was not a question to be answered...”

“That is true,” Rotgoriel said, watching Agnez' lips thin. “But this is an unusual situation, and I do not wish to be impolite. We are guests, after all. That was courtesy unasked for, but offered in good will.”

CHA+1

That was an unexpected bonus! If things kept going this well perhaps she'd be interested in mating after all! Yes, Richard probably knew much about human customs, but this was a dragon he was dealing with. Rotgoriel doubtless knew better.

“Ask, then,” Agnez folded her arms.

There were a lot of important questions that Rich would have asked first, but Rich was a hasty and fretful person who relied too much on planning and staying ahead of his foes. Also, he was used to dealing with humans. And Rotgoriel had his own set of priorities, now that he had finally met one of his own kind.

“What is your name? Agnez is probably a part of it, but it is far too short for a proper name.”

She considered the query, then pointed to the mouth of the cave. “Go outside. I can't say it properly in this form. Take your minion with you, he smells funny. No, not you Bortiz. Keep eating your cheese!”

Bortiz buried his face and pushed his back to the wall as she shuddered, and brown skin started turning to dark green scales. Rotgoriel watched for a second longer than he should have, then turned and hurried out before it got too crowded.

Geebo was already ahead of him, waiting there in the snow, staring with rapturous awe as the green dragon once more flexed her wings.

“I am Agnezsharron!” roared the magnificent green dragon, and Rotgoriel felt his heart beat faster. Oh, she was beautiful!

Beautiful and harder to read now, as a yellow, slit-pupilled gaze caught his solid, singular white orb. “Ask one more question, whelp. Then submit to my own interrogation.”

Whelp! She wasn't much bigger than he was, how old could she be?

That was the question in his maw, but he choked it off before he could give it voice.

He might not have Richard's priorities, but he was no fool. She was within her rights to kick him out once she was tired of his company. If he wanted to stay on good terms with her, he needed to get some information that would be helpful for the situation.

“Is there any reason that I would be sent to destroy Fimble that does not involve you?”

She took a minute to consider the question, head twisting around on her long neck as if she were considering a prey animal.

“I can think of none,” she said, finally. “Fimble is nothing. Nothing. That is why I am here.”

He waited for her to ask a question, but instead she went on. “Three nations border this place, and none of them want it, not really. They'll take the crystals and components that people like Tinty mine out of it, and the tallyman makes sure each nation gets their proper share, so none of them have to go to war over it, and they ignore it.”

“Except when they want troops for their armies,” the man spoke up, then withered as two draconic (and one draconic minion's) gazes fell upon him.

“Troops?” Rotgoriel asked.

“The levy. The tallymen told us that Bharstool needed soldiers. They took everyone who had an adventuring job,” Bortiz said, more hesitantly.

“Everyone except me,” Agnez said. “He knew better than to mess with me. Oh he didn't know this, but if he tried to draft me my friends would have kicked him off the mountain.”

Her friends.

Not her minions. Her friends.

A small thing, an admission that dragon's weren't supposed to make, that would have got her scorned by the ancestors.

“So it is nothing, but you call it home. To you it is something,” Rotgoriel said, not quite a question, not quite a statement. Prodding, trying to get a little more.

And he got it.

“I'm not here by choice,” she snapped. “Those players in Bharstool killed my parent three years ago. The Elders told me I must watch her nest, and this is the territory I gave me for the inconvenience. It's not even that close! I have to fly for hours to get to the egg. But it's the only place that's safe.” she spat the word.

“The egg... a set of stone stairs by a dark lake...” Rotgoriel mused. “I found it on my way here. We met there, the traitor and I.”

She tensed. “He has designs on my sibling?”

“I do not know. I will try to find out, and I will tell you if so,” Rotgoriel assured her.

She relaxed, just a bit.

“Tell me, what would happen if I had done as he asked,” Rotgoriel said, thoughts roiling in his head. “If I had come in here and attacked your village without offering proper challenge first.”

“I would have fought you, driven you off, and then I would have gone to the Elders with complaint.”

“Council would have been called,” Rotgoriel mused.

“Yes. And you would have been captured and brought before them in disgrace. The judgment would not be harsh, perhaps a debt to me and a few decades of service to an Elder.”

“Putting me out of play for whatever happened next...” Rotgoriel nodded. “And unable to help repay my debt to his betrayed master. Now I see the shape of it.”

“Who IS his master?”

“Do you know the players that slew your parent?” Rotgoriel countered a question with a question. “Tankitaway? Boombabe? Were those their names?”

“Yes. Yes they were,” she rumbled, low and ugly. “Two of them. There were four in total.”

“Yes. I owe a favor to one who is a player, not far from here. He aims to build power that will take away from the ones who slew your parent... and mine, too.”

She blinked. “What?”

“My mother, my own mother had a domain north of her. She was the guardian of a vault of dark creatures. I hatched while they were killing her. And it is my greatest shame and grief that I could do nothing, nothing while they ended her! I have declared vengeance on them. And I have already killed them, once.”

“What?” she whispered. “Wait. They are not... how old are you?”

“Three years,” he said simply. “And I've been awake for perhaps a week of it.”

Silence, then. The air howled about them, up on that lonely mountain.

“You killed them as a hatchling?” she said, in disbelief.

“I tricked them,” Rotgoriel nodded. “Later, in their moment of victory, I caught them with a simple but effective trick and killed them. But they are players, and they come back.”

CHA+1

“Wait, what?” Bortiz burst out. “Nobody comes back from death. Unless they're undead, or something.”

Both dragons turned to stare at him and he shrunk back into the corner of the cave, holding his cheese out in front of him like a shield. “Sorry! Sorry. It's just, this is all rather...”

“It's true,” Agnez said, lowering her head. “Secrets, here. Big ones. You're welcome to listen, but it goes without saying you'll need to stay silent, Tinty. It's more than your life is worth if you go blabbling to the wrong people.”

“I know,” he whispered, and it took a dragon's perfect perception to catch his words on the wind.

“Unbelieveable as this is,” Agnez said, turning to look back at Rotgoriel. “Who is this one you owe a favor to? What is his design in this tangled web?”

“He wishes to build up power of his own in this realm, and take it away from those fools in Bharstool. I am to help him build a crew of powerful players, to form a... penal colony,” he said, finally. It sounded better than “prison camp.” And it was technically true. “A penal colony of players.”

“A dragon working with players? Absurd.” She snorted. “The elders would forbid it. They would hate the very notion!” She blinked. “They would hate the very notion...” she said again, slower, eyes sliding half shut. “Oh, would they. Yes, the old fools who stuck me here would howl, if they knew. And forbid it entirely. If they knew. If. But technically there are no laws against it...”

“Penal colony's about what we are,” Bortiz said as she trailed off in thought. “Bunch of families who got outcast from other lands ended up here. Nobody comes up the mountain looking to kill you. Not worth it. Punishment enough living here, and sooner or later the mountain or the beasts get ya.”

“You know, a thought occurs to me,” Rotgoriel said—

But before he could finish it, the winds howled, and a blue form came hurtling up the mountain, glowing brightly in the darkness.

“Aunarox?” Rotgoriel asked, moving to put himself between the djinn and the emerald-scaled form of Agnezsharron.

“Great one,” she said, eyes wide and chest heaving. “And host. Ah! Wow, the air is thin up here. We have a situation, great one. They very much need answers, and I found myself empty of them.”

“A situation? Speak plainly,” Rotgoriel commanded her.

“Well! As you know, one of the skills Cultists gain is the Occult Eye, that reveals the hidden arcane secrets, warps in reality, all that sort of thing.”

“Indeed,” Rotgoriel rumbled, though he didn't know much about it, save for the fact that it was on his status view. Had he ever used it? He thought not. “And?”

Aunarox stared at him. “Have you not used it here yourself? Did you not know?”

“I...” Rotgoriel closed his mouth. “Occult Eye.”

And then he stared down, and silence stole his words away.

“What?” Agnez said, as snow crunched and rocks shifted as she moved up near him. “What are you staring at?”

Rotgoriel lifted his head, and turned to Agnez.

“Do you know that you have an invisible city in your valley?”