Interlude – Queens and Dragons (1/2)

It had been a long time. Long, for her. But oh, so short as well.

She had been newly formed when she left Rhir. And though decades had passed since that fateful day, when the hope of the Antinium had died at sea, she was still…how old?

Antinium did not care. Nor did the Free Queen of the Antinium measure such things. Time, for Antinium, should not matter. They had discovered a way to break free of age, even of death itself. Antinium bodies could be rejuvenated, and even their spirits put into new vessels.

At least, if they remembered it. The Free Queen felt every inch of her aging, expanded form some days. Experimental techniques, half-remembered, applied incorrectly to allow the Queens to manually birth once more, to accommodate their straining flesh and chitin. All of it had taken its toll.

She was…the Free Queen calculated. At least four decades old.

At least. But also, ‘only’. The Free Queen could remember Queens who had left Rhir twice as old, and they hadn’t even been as old as Bessachidia, the Shaper Queen who had been oldest and greatest of the living Antinium at creation.

If she had been alive, the Antinium would have taken Izril. Even if she alone had been there. She would have overrun the Walled Cities within a decade at most. No, to be fair—two decades. And even if she’d stumbled, she’d have brought at least one Walled City down already.

But after three decades, the Antinium were stalemated. And the Queens were aging, and no more were being made. Age, the issue of reforming bodies, creating new Queens, all of it would have been easy to Bessachidia. The Free Queen knew this, because she had learned from Bessachidia, along with the Silent Queen.

But she had died in the water. Along with so many Centenium. And those who had remained, the other Queens—they had died too, establishing a foothold in this continent. Three Centenium had perished, unable to be revived. Nine Queens as well. Each one a loss that could not be recovered from. Klbkch had lost his form.

Now six remained. Six, and three Centenium, one weakened from his days of glory. This is what the Free Queen dwelled on, when she did not eat, or when she was not busy. The haunting, clawing thoughts.

She was old. Despite being young. For she had labored in ways the Antinium of Rhir would have never imagined. And—the Free Queen could see it now. How she had despaired. How the other Queens despaired, had fragmented into their old Hives as if they were the primitive Antinium, in the days before the First Queen had unified them, forged them into what the Antinium were.

Despair, decay. Despondence. Something else that started with ‘D’. The Free Queen even thought in the language of the other races of the world, not in the pure clicking tones the Antinium used. There was no one to speak it with, besides Klbkch anyways. The new Workers and Soldiers had been created with the language of this continent.

So she despaired. An eternal tale, in Liscor, pursuing a dream even the other Queens had abandoned. That was how it was and had been.

Until today. The Free Queen had seen a dream. The Antinium she’d let go, that could have saved their race if she had the strength to tear him apart and kill the closest thing to True Antinium—Bird. She had seen him standing on the walls of Pallass.

What shock! What horror. And—what glory. The Free Queen still remembered it. And it had changed everything. Now, she sat in her chambers and heard the tones of the Antinium language again.

“You disobeyed my orders! There were to be no Prognugators made! This is a violation of my command! Xevccha! Free Queen, an explanation is demanded!”

The invective in their language—it contained elements no Human could even write, clicks and piercing sounds only an Antinium voice could make—made the Free Queen look up.

The Grand Queen stared at her from the mirror. The huge Antinium Queen who led the remaining Hives on Izril was shaking with fury. The Free Queen gathered her thoughts.

“Bird is not a Prognugator, my Queen. That was a tactical lie used—”

“It has a name! So it names itself! It threatened war, war! Am I understanding you correctly? One of your Antinium lied to start a war? Insolence! Madness!”

The other Queen was shouting at the Free Queen in their language. That meant she didn’t use the royal ‘we’ and ‘our’ she had adopted. She was doing it to chastise the Free Queen, but all it did was make the other Antinium nostalgic. She bowed her head slightly, another learned gesture. Her antennae waved, signaling with her voice.

“It is a grave mistake, my Queen. But I repeat: Bird is not a Prognugator. He is part of the experimental Antinium program—”

“It sounds like the Prognugator-creation system! My authority—”

The Free Queen’s mandibles twitched. She had been harangued for the last hour and she was growing tired of it.

“My Queen. The Individual and Autonomous Antinium are not Prognugators. They do not require the expenditure of Antinium lives for formation.”

Unlike your wasteful creations. The Free Queen could see them lined up. Nearly two dozen Prognugators, or as the Grand Queen had styled them, the Custodium. As if they were as good as Centenium.

What a waste of resources. Each one wore the long swords on each hip, copies of Klbkch’s fighting style. But it was just enhanced chitin, not Klbkch’s swords which had been made in Rhir. And perhaps they could fight like no other Antinium—and level. But the waste. Even in Rhir, Prognugators were expensive to make.

The Free Queen saw the Grand Queen shifting restlessly. Her antennae, feelers, posture, and mandibles all spoke her ire to the Free Queen. But the Grand Queen was far too far away to discipline the Free Queen. And—the Free Queen looked at the one speck of color amid the brown and black shells.

Blue, azure, beautiful as the day she’d been made. And from her eyes shone pure, dancing colors. Xrn, the Small Queen, the last of the three Centenium of Izril, was smiling. Her eyes shone with dancing pink and yellow—and a hint of orange mischief. But they shone.

“My Queen. The Free Queen has given her response. This was clearly an error. An appraisal should be made of the Free Hive, but I am sure the Free Queen must explain the incident to the Liscorian government.”

Xrn’s voice reached the Grand Queen. The huge Antinium stared down at Xrn, then glared at the Free Queen. She switched back to the common tongue.

“The Drakes and Gnolls must be negotiated with? Why did you not inform us earlier?”

“My duty is to you, my Queen. I shall begin negotiations immediately if you have no further words for me.”

The Free Queen lied smoothly, grateful for Xrn’s lie. The Grand Queen didn’t understand other species. None of the other Queens did. At least the Free Queen had Klbkch to explain to her. She could see through his eyes and she understood a bit more. Liscor’s Council had demanded nothing of her—Klbkch had no doubt taken care of it. But the Grand Queen believed.

“Very well. Go. Placate this other ruling body. But your actions will have consequences! The—”

She broke off. The Grand Queen had probably been intending to censure the supply of resources sent to the Free Hive. Or demand a higher tribute. But the Free Antinium had been in exile for nearly a decade. The Free Queen almost raised her mandibles in a smile. Almost. The long struggle alone with Klbkch had been worth it for this moment.

“—This matter is not over. Xrn, we shall discuss.”

“Yes my Queen. Thank you for your—”

The Grand Queen turned away and the magical image of her in the mirror disappeared. The Free Queen stared at the blank mirror.

“Krxsching…Grand Queen? Undeserved, now. Garry.”

“On the way, my Queen.”

An Antinium Worker was already hurrying out of his kitchen with a serving cart filled with morsels. The Free Queen sighed, happy her encounter with the Grand Queen was over. Honestly, the other Antinium’s rage wasn’t entirely misplaced. It had been near-disastrous, Bird’s incident. The Hives had nearly gone to war over his lie. The Free Queen wondered if Klbkch was disciplining Bird. She wondered if he had been hurt.

What strange new emotions! What a strange change had come over the Hive. The Queen stared down as Garry offered her up a bowl. It was tiny to her, but huge, a giant serving bowl he needed all four arms for.

“What is this?”

“Acid flies, my Queen. I have purchased them from Miss Lyonette.”

“Ah.”

The Free Queen’s mandibles opened wide in delight. She took the bowl and crunched the tiny little morsels, savoring the taste. She nodded as Garry stepped back.

“You have done well, Garry.”

“Thank you, my Queen!”

The [Cook] was ecstatic. The Free Queen stared at him for a second. She would never have deigned to acknowledge his presence a little while ago. But now—she talked with him. Even thanked him.

“…Are there more?”

“Yes, my Queen. But there is a limited supply. I have been attempting to secure more, but acid-flies are difficult to acquire. In the meantime, I have stretched what I have—this is a pot of noodles. I have hand-crafted the dough and noodles extra-large. I recall you expressing the desire to eat them, rather than the much smaller variety—they are infused with an acid-fly broth and I have done some work with the presentation—”

Another platter. The Free Queen stared at the pasta, seeing how Garry had arranged it with all his toppings to create a colorful masterpiece, rather than the huge vats he fed her. She was growing fond of this appreciation of food before it was imbibed.

“Good. Good. This is good, Garry. The…noodles…are larger.”

“And they will not bother you, my Queen?”

“The Queens are not susceptible to products of wheat. That was an error in the process of creating Antinium. If I had the time, I would correct it, but it was unnecessary until now. Did you say a broth? How is it in these noodles?”

“Ah, they were boiled in it. The broth is very flavorful, my Queen. I did not think it fit for you, but it has received good reviews among my taste testers—it is not nourishing, but it is tasty.”

“Bring some.”

The Free Queen saw Garry hurry into her kitchen. She relaxed, regarding the plate of spaghetti. And the large, large pots Garry had made to sate her appetite. Now, this was better. Yes—

“The issue of wheat-based nutrition was deemed a sufficient oversight in the creation of the first Soldier/Worker prototypes. You yourself agreed. It was not a flaw at the time.”

The Free Queen jumped. Well, not literally. But she did drop her plate. Garry hurried out at the crash and faltered.

The magical mirror that the Free Queen had recently been delivered was glowing again. But instead of the Grand Queen—Garry and the Free Queen saw a shadowed cavern. A dark form, moving amid the shade of her hive.

The Silent Queen had always been quiet. But now she had embraced her Hive’s perceived role. And she’d scared the daylights out of the Free Queen—who had not seen daylight herself in over a decade. The Free Queen looked around. Put out, she stared at her food lying in the dirt that Garry had worked so hard on, then at the Silent Queen.

“Silent Queen. Greetings. What is the meaning of your communication? I have not received one since the siege at Liscor.”

The Silent Queen ignored the question. Her antennae waved restlessly as she opened and closed her mandibles. She was smallest of the Queens, and most timid, despite her genius at shaping Antinium. Normally she was quiet, except in matters that regarded shaping Antinium. But today she was agitated.

“Lack of proper digestive fluids was not an oversight. You claimed to be redesigning the Soldier/Worker forms. Is this another aberrative innovation you have not shared with the other Hives? That is in violation of the Grand Queen’s orders.”

“I do not understand—”

The Free Queen stared blankly at the Silent Queen. Then she realized the other Queen had been listening in.

“—That was a passing thought. Silent Queen, as the Grand Queen ordered, I have been forbidden from experimenting with new Antinium forms.”

But she’d done it anyways, with Klbkch and Yellow Splatters. She’d just lacked the resources the other Queens had to engineer their new Antinium. The Silent Queen stared at the Free Queen.

“I have witnessed your new Prognugator. Optical enhancements? Muscular coordination? You did not communicate your breakthrough. I have shared all—all improvements to base Worker/Soldier forms.”

“Bird? He is not a Prognugator. Silent Queen, I have been chastised by the Grand Queen, but that incident was an accident—”

The Silent Queen stared at the Free Queen. She glanced around and the Free Queen saw the darkness rustle. The Silent Queen’s camouflaged attendants moved, and the darkness shifted.

“If you do not wish to share the designs of your new Bird-Prognugator, perhaps a trade can be effected? I did not wish to offend with the delegation. Now a passageway has been effected, I will send a Prognugator. Two. We must communicate. The evolution of the Antinium cannot be personal, Free Queen. Infighting has only weakened the other Hives.”

The Free Queen was very confused. And she was certain the Silent Queen was misunderstanding basically everything.

“Infighting? Silent Queen, as I said to the Grand Queen—”

The other Queen twitched.

“Yes. Yes. Your communication of ordinary Worker slaying Wyverns with physical manipulation of a bow is understood. I will send a Prognugator. Would that be acceptable?”

She was very agitated. The Free Queen remembered—they had been the students of Bessachidia, and thus responsible for remaking the Antinium Workers and Soldiers. The Silent Queen had been better, which was hard to admit, but she had been as conscious of her inability as the Free Queen compared to a proper Shaper Queen. Now…what was she thinking?

The Free Queen was still a Queen. Her mind could perform on multiple levels, manage a Hive and thousands of Antinium at once. She had been designed for it. Now, her multiple levels of consideration made her open her mandibles slowly.

“I…will accept an envoy. And I regard the advancement of the Antinium as vital, Silent Queen. Let us discuss advancements.”

The other Queen relaxed visibly.

“Yes. This conversation is private, of course. Your Bird-Individual is not a Prognugator.”

“He is not.”

“I shall send a Prognugator. And put forward your case before the Grand Queen. She is angry. Let us converse then.”

The link cut. The Free Queen stared at the mirror, then at Garry. She wanted to ask, what was that? Infighting? But she felt like she knew. It had been a decade since she’d left the Hives, and even then she’d been the outcast. Without her…the Silent Queen thought she was withholding some new experimental designs that had allowed Bird to hit the Wyverns? And she’d implied that she had—

Before the Free Queen could analyze the situation, the mirror glowed again. Garry, trying to put the noodles onto another plate, scurried back. The Free Queen saw another Queen sitting and staring at her.

“Is this a challenge, Free Queen? My Flying Antinium are designed for aerial superiority. What is the purpose of your Bird-creation?”

The Flying Queen was agitated. Her Hive, always a chaos of Antinium moving around her, was in uproar. The Free Queen saw her winged attendants and Antinium buzzing, moving around the Queen at breakneck pace. The Free Queen stared as the Flying Queen restlessly rubbed her feelers together.

“It is my work you are jeopardizing. What is the purpose? No—ranged Antinium? Is this an overture to the Armored Antinium? The Grand Queen is attempting to punish you, you know. We are in communication. Please explain. Also—what is that? That is food. Why is it so colorful? Are you attempting a new nutritional mix?”

Her words spilled over each other. The Free Queen didn’t even have a chance to get in a word edgewise until the Flying Queen stopped. But that was good. It gave the Free Queen a chance to think.

Unlike the Silent Queen’s conversation, this time the Free Queen sat back in her chambers. She waved at Garry to bring her more food. And she controlled her antennae, waving them intentionally as she spoke.

“Ah, yes. Bird. He is one Individual, Flying Queen. Not an attempt to jeopardize your Hive at all. This? This is food, developed by another Individual. Garry, present yourself.”

“My—I greet you, Flying Queen.”

Garry shivered forwards. The Flying Queen stared at him.

“Not an attempt to replace my Hive’s capabilities? Intellectual. But the purpose of your defiance to the Grand Queen?”

“Accidental. Truly.”

“Naturally.”

The other Queen’s antennae were beginning to wave in sync with the Free Queen as she calmed down. The Free Queen was thinking faster and faster. Three of six. They were probably waiting for the mirrors to stop being used. What should she say to…the Armored Queen was one thing, but the Twisted Queen disturbed the Free Queen. Even so—

“Let us discuss my Individual project, Flying Queen. The Grand Queen has declared some merit. But if you would consider discussing the matter further…”

“The tunnel is completed, or so Pivr tells me. Let us talk. The Armored Queen has sent Prognugators? Why were more not sent from the Flying Antinium first? We will bring resources. Tell me about your new capabilities. More. I was not told of your Hive’s superiority in my report.”

“Well, there have been advancements. By the way, Garry’s food has taste. It is better than even raw food for taste. Far better than celdes-paste. If you send a Prognugator, I will deliver some to you.”

“Really?”

The Free Queen looked at Garry. He stared up at her, mandibles agape. The Free Queen wanted to open her mandibles wider and higher than she had in recent memory.

“What do the Flying Antinium wish to discuss, Flying Queen? Privately. The Free Hive has something to offer. If the discussion is amiable.”

Now, the Free Queen understood. The other Queens were waiting to talk to her. And they’d all seen Bird. And misunderstood. But she didn’t need to correct them, even if they believed. After a decade of suffering in neglect, the other Hives were sitting up and looking at the Free Antinium. Some warily, some approving.

Either way, if the Free Antinium’s value were a stock, it had broken through the glass ceiling, through the roof of the Antinium stock exchange, and was now busy constructing a satellite bombardment laser in orbit.

The two Queens began to chat. And the Free Queen was focused—and despairing still. This was good for her Hive. Terrible for her people. The Antinium were not united any longer. If Bessachidia had lived—

The Grand Queen was not the same as the First Queen had been. Disloyalty in the other Queens was a sign. She had to speak to Klbkch.

—-

The Walled City of Manus was quiet after this morning. The citizenry still didn’t know what had caused a silent but perceptible panic in the ranks of their elite. The inner keep in the heart of Manus had been filled with officers and commanders. But—ironically—news was just spreading.

There had been an attack in Pallass? And it had been fought off? What had gone on? Many had just heard the [Messages] being sent from Pallass, and there had only been a few, briefly reporting the battle.

They hadn’t seen the spectacle. And word was only now trickling down to them. The world hadn’t yet faced full-on mass media consumption. Anyways, it had been the inner war councils of Manus who called the shots, not some democracy.

They were already finished for the day when the Drake with beautiful teal scales strode out of the inner keep. She sighed, flexing her wings and turning her head in the sunlight. Those who saw her, Gnolls or Drakes, had to pause to stare.

Wall Lady Rafaema was young, in the prime of her life, and beautiful. She stuck in the memory of anyone who saw her. She was as famous in her way as Spearmaster Lulv. Not in experience; she was young, and she’d grown up in Manus. Well, she’d come from abroad—she’d entered the city when she was what, sixteen? No one quite knew where she hailed from, but her ancestry had been certified. She was an inheritor of the original founders of Manus. That was obvious.

Rafaema had both wings and the ability to breathe magical energy. Her power was lightning, and people said her manifestation of the Oldblood was the strongest in living memory. As strong as Luciva Skybreath, the Dragonspeaker of Manus. Everyone knew that Rafaema was going to be a [General], or a [Commander] when she enlisted. She certainly trained enough in the practice courts each day.

Oh, and she was being courted by half of Manus’ eligible males. The other half had been rejected soundly, and Rafaema swatted suitors like flies each week. Now, the Drake sighed as she looked about.

She was a Dragon, by the way. Although that was the kind of secret that only a few people knew. Like Manus’ inner war council. Even some of the [Generals] and trusted commanders had no idea of whom Rafaema was. Like everyone else, they thought she was a gifted young Drake, politically kept from fighting on the front lines due to a complicated family dynamic.

And that was what they’d continue to believe, as Rafaema got older. Until she died or—had an accident in her forties. And then some new, young Drake, probably with different features, an entirely different backstory, would appear.

Probably not as beautiful this time. And she’d have to remove her wings. Rafaema sighed. If she could, she’d make the next ‘her’ be male. It would at least keep one kind of suitor away. And that pest. She sighed. As she walked across Manus’ inner walls—the Walled City had two layers of walls—she felt someone coming up behind her.

“Then again, pests accumulate no matter what I do.”

“Lady Rafaema. Pest number one, at your service.”

A Gnoll caught up to Rafaema. He wore casual clothes—but full-body, not the light clothing Gnolls usually preferred, that left their fur exposed. He walked with an easy stroll, unlike the military [Soldiers] that Manus was famous for. He was offering Rafaema a flower, much to the disgust of the other males who were planning on the same. Rafaema eyed the green petals, took the flower—and tossed it over the wall.

It fell, and Rafaema stared across Manus. The inner walls of Manus contained a city, but the outer walls lay distant.

And below. Manus had been built so that anyone who finally claimed the star-shaped city’s walls, which provided overlapping fire, combined with outward slanting walls that made putting a ladder up impossible—machicolations—every conceivable defense designed to give an attacking force a bad time, they’d celebrate…

Only to realize Manus had a set of inner walls and it had been built such that the inner walls had both height and positioning on the outer walls. Manus could literally bombard anyone who took the outer walls into oblivion and then retake their defenses. And if, if you took the inner walls, you still had a city full of choke points and fortifications designed to favor the defender against impossible odds.

It was the kind of city that begged people to attack it. And sure enough, Manus was called the City of War not because it had a strong economy or agriculture or industry, but because it was good at one thing. And it bordered the Antinium Hives—in fact, it was one of the reasons they’d failed to expand in both wars.

But as a result, Manus had to use space wisely. Rafaema threw the suitor’s flower over the inner walls and watched it fall down the hill on which the inner city was built. Terraced farms were being worked there, and Rafaema watched the flower fall amid the crops being busily tended to.

“Miss Rafaema, you wound my heart! I searched for that for ages. Won’t you at least consider it a moment?”

The Gnoll clutched at his heart, gesturing imploringly at Rafaema. She ignored him; he was a picture of one of the many suitors she got. This one was particularly insistent, one of the ones who refused to give up after she rebuffed him. She looked around. No one was within earshot and anyone watching them would assume this was another suitor wasting Rafaema’s time.

“You can drop the act now.”

The Gnoll paused halfway down towards bending a knee. He straightened; he’d already known they were alone, Rafaema guessed. The Gnoll nodded at her.

“Lady Sailwing.”

“Don’t call me that. I barely remember my last names anymore.”

Rafaema snapped. The Gnoll nodded.

“As you wish, Lady Rafaema.”

He’d dropped his act. Now, he stood like a [Soldier]. Rafaema had chosen an empty stretch of Manus to walk through; she knew the patrol routes by heart, and which parts of the city got empty when. This was her city after all. She had lived here all her life.

“Stop following me.”

“You know I can’t do that, Lady Rafaema.”

The Gnoll walked after Rafaema. He turned his head now and then, just as if he were looking around, but Rafaema knew he saw everything. The Gnoll wasn’t tall or short, and he had a terribly nondescript way about him. Rafaema was sure it was a Skill. When he wasn’t acting, he was just…bland.

And terribly efficient. Terribly so. Rafaema was used to the efficient people who followed her around wherever she went. At least he was open about it. And he was the latest in the line of her…protectors.

“You’re new.”

“And you spotted me within a second of me meeting you. My disguise needs work. I apologize, Lady.”

“Name?”

“Ferris Thycarl.”

No rank, no affiliation. Rafaema didn’t ask further. She knew what he was. People liked to joke that Manus was full of war-minded idiots, but the training schools in the City of War produced more than just officers and [Strategists]. Some, like Ferris, performed duties in secret. But he had to be good, if he knew who she was.

The Gnoll looked sideways at Rafaema. He still looked innocuous as any Gnoll. Except for one thing.

“May I ask how you picked up on my identity, Lady Rafaema?”

She snorted and opened her wings restlessly, feeling the breeze catch on them. She enjoyed having wings. Other Drake forms were so…restrictive.

“You all look the same to me. Your eyes give you away. Your lot always stares the first time you see me.”

“Ah. Not in a love struck way?”

“Love struck suitors stare at other things.”

Ferris had to grin at that. He bowed, slightly.

“At your service then, Lady Rafaema. If you want me to present myself some other way—”

“What happened to the last one? The female Drake.”

He paused.

“Reassigned, Lady Rafaema. If you have an issue with my presence—”

“They’ll get me a new one. Anyways, I wanted you to talk to me which is why I left the note. So—talk. Do you know what’s going on?”

The Gnoll who called himself Ferris paused. He was smart, because he didn’t waste time.

“I’m not aware of the full scope of Manus’ decisions, but I’m aware of the Pallass situation. May I ask what the war council decided?”

“They’re going to approach the other Walled Cities for joint funding on some operations against the Hives. And they want to look into Liscor. Some of your friends will be heading there. They’re probably already being briefed.”

“Ah.”

That was all Ferris said. No ‘is that wise?’ or ‘what do you think?’. He was trained not to ask those questions. If he had an opinion…

“And you wished to see me, Lady Rafaema, because…?”

“How much do you report to your superiors, Ferris? I remember one of your people said you have to make a weekly report on how I’m feeling. And of course, you’re the one responsible for me. Rather than a team. Because I’m old enough not to need one.”

Rafaema’s tone was pleasant, but if you looked at her eyes, you would notice two things. That Rafaema had two differently-colored pupils. Heterochromia, the phenomenon was called. Also—that said eyes were glinting dangerously.

Ferris paused. He thought about his reply and went for the truth. Which was wise—Rafaema could cast spells as well as many [Mages] and she’d mastered [Detect Lies] long ago.

“I’m trusted enough to make my own decisions, Lady Rafaema. I do make a weekly report. If you have any desires…you need only ask me.”

“And you’ll pass it along.”

“Not if it’s an easy request. I am here to serve, Lady Rafaema.”

“And if I said I wanted to leave Manus today?”

Ferris’ gaze flickered.

“I’d have to ask my superiors, Lady Rafaema. That’s not within my power to grant.”

Silence. He was eying her. Rafaema, like many of Manus’ officers, wore a sword at her side. But the Gnoll didn’t look frightened, and Rafaema guessed he was as dangerous without weapons as with whatever secret weapons he had on him. But she was unique.

“But you are new. How much did they tell you about me? Everything? Did they tell you about Kelis? Or Amessia?”

The Gnoll didn’t blink. He smiled politely.

“They are mandatory case-studies now, Lady Rafaema. If you have an objection to me—”

“I haven’t decided yet. Some of you annoy me. Like your predecessor.”

Rafaema’s eyes glinted. Ferris nodded. Keeping her happy was an important job. He’d been chosen for it.

“So how much do you know? Have you read my file? All of it? It’s not that well hidden. If you know to look for it.”

Ferris sighed through his nose. He straightened, adopting a military pose for a moment as he clasped his paws behind his back.

“I know everything, Lady Rafaema.”

She paused. Rafaema went to the battlements overlooking Manus. She stood there, on the inner walls. Then she looked suddenly at Ferris.

“How old am I? I forget.”

“A hundred and twenty three, Lady Rafaema.”

“Huh.”

She hadn’t known that. She’d thought she was around a hundred and eighteen. But there it was.

Rafaema was over a hundred years old. Old, for any species in the world. Only half-Elves could face that so easily. But Rafaema had lived it. A hundred and twenty three years of…growing up.

“It doesn’t feel so long. But I’ve stopped taking naps. When was the last one?”

“Twenty seven years ago, Lady Rafaema. If you are feeling—”

“No. Shut up.”

The Gnoll fell silent obediently. Rafaema stared over her city. And for a moment, the young, vibrant Drake looked a bit lost. She looked like someone in her early twenties. And that was accurate. She liked looking how she felt. Well, she might be old, even for this appearance.

“Sleeping…bothers me. Not regular sleep. I—didn’t I sleep for seventeen years one time? And—how long was the other time?”

“Nine years. Among other periods. Your latest periods of slumber have grown shorter, Lady Rafaema. It is a natural—”

He shut up as Rafaema looked at him.

“Do your books tell you about Dragonspeaker Telimer, Ferris?”

“Yes, Lady Rafaema.”

She was in a bad mood. Ferris’ fur tried to stand up on end. Rafaema stared across her city, moodily. There was an outer city as well; Manus’ outer walls had only been taken twice. The Walled City was huge. But it felt small to her.

“It took me four decades to figure it out. Four decades. I know I was a fool when I was that small, but I didn’t understand. They kept putting me back to sleep, and I kept waking up and wondering where everyone went. I didn’t understand it until I was—forty. I kept thinking they were out there somewhere. In another Walled City.”

“The…records indicate that it was a mistake to do so, Lady Rafaema. The Dragonspeaker thought—”

Rafaema looked at Ferris and he went quiet. She was the image of a Drake. If you stared at her shadow, it was just her. She wasn’t concealing anything. Her body was the size of a Drake. But the magic only went so far. Her eyes sparked.

“I didn’t step outside the keep until I was fifty years old. And when I did, they put an entire army on watching me. I like Manus, Ferris. I really do. I know how much I owe the city…did they tell you what I did for my eightieth birthday?”

“Oh yes.”

Ferris was watching her now. Rafaema grinned. She had a toothy, perfect smile.

“How good are you, Ferris? Exact level and class?”

“I couldn’t say, Lady.”

“Do you think that if you tried, you could get away before I threw you off the walls? I don’t have levels, but I’m still me.”

The Gnoll wasn’t sweating. Which was really impressive at this point. He looked past Rafaema.

“I believe I’d survive that. Lady Rafaema, if you dislike my presence—”

“I’m thinking about it.”

Moodily, Rafaema turned back to the view. Her tail was lashing the stones. Ferris wondered if the transformation magic was bothering her. He looked at Rafaema.

In previous generations, the Dragonspeakers had dealt with their sacred charge in different ways. Some had made mistakes. Others had done well. But the growing Dragon entrusted to them had never been an easy charge. She had been a child. Intelligent, but a child for decades. And her wrath on finding she’d been deceived was written in the history books.

But that was the thing. At age eighty, Rafaema had thrown what could only be described as the worst case of adolescence in Manus’ entire history. But she had been…a teen.

Dragons were considered young adults, able to strike out on their own when they were two hundred years old. They were immortal, able to live forever, gifted with more innate magical ability than any [Mage], far beyond that of even half-Elves. Their scales could deflect arrows. They could fly, transform, and had a diversity of abilities second to no species in this world.

But they paid a price for their power. And it was only in one thing: they gave birth to precious few. And their young aged so, so very slowly. And for that reason alone, there were almost no Dragons left. There were rumors, and people knew there were Dragons. Somewhere.

That was what they said. But if you were trusted, trusted beyond reproach, you could go into a vault only the Dragonspeaker and a handful of others knew about. Like Ferris, who was the best out of every graduate in his academy and whose loyalty and ability had been tested to a degree not even Manus’ [Generals] were expected to meet. He had read the document.

There were only two in all of Izril. Only two left. And one of them was a moody young…woman. After a century and a quarter of waiting.

Part of that century, actually, a lot, had been sleeping. It had terrified the scales off the first Dragonspeaker when the baby Dragon had slept for a decade the first time. But apparently Dragons slept for long periods if they needed to.

Their bodies were masterworks of perfection. Rafaema might have been transformed, but she kept her strength, speed, and toughness. She could probably throw Ferris a long ways if he let her catch him. She didn’t need Skills, and in fact, it was just as well that she couldn’t level. If Dragons had been able to level, they’d have ruled the world forever.

Whatever was bothering Rafaema, she hadn’t shown it in the war council. Ferris was aware of the decisions that Dragonspeaker Luciva and the others had settled on. Rafaema had been part of those discussions, and a respected voice since the war council knew who she was. They listened to her now. But when all was said and done, Rafaema was still their ward, their charge that they had faithfully kept safe for generations until she was ready.

The hope of Dragons and Drakes, known only to two Walled Cities, was staring blankly ahead. Ferris waited. One of the reasons he’d been chosen was because he was very good at his job. The other was his personality. No one wanted a disaster like Kelis, or Amessia again. Those two agents who’d been assigned to Rafaema fifty and thirty years ago had nearly caused disaster.

Managing Rafaema’s mood was…tricky. She’d been angry ever since her friend, Dragonspeaker Luciva’s daughter had died. Rafaema made few friends to begin with. She had once been a social child, apparently. But Ferris had read that she’d made fewer and fewer friends with each decade.

That too, had concerned previous Dragonspeakers. Ferris had read their thoughts and the times when Rafaema had reacted to the deaths of her friends over decades. Her entire history was in a book in the vault where she had been protected as an egg.

“You know, even though I didn’t think about it for a long time, Izril doesn’t really change. It’s been over a hundred years and I’ve seen the Humans attack, lose, win, the Walled Cities fight—they nearly took Fissival one time, you know? Pallass. We had wars with the Gnolls, a war with Baleros—I think. Even the King of Destruction. But it never really changed to me.”

Ferris was silent. Rafaema went on.

“The King of Destruction never made it past Zeres. The Goblin King scared everyone, but there was the other one. The Hundred Days one, in Terandria. All of that was the same. To me. I’ve seen it all before. But the Antinium? They’re new.”

She glanced at the Gnoll. Rafaema did train in the practice courts. She was rated highly with a blade, even if she pretended to use Skills. Ferris had heard that Spearmaster Lulv was teaching her to use a spear against the others, who wanted Rafaema to use a sword.

A Dragon with a sword. But since she wore her transformed body, it made sense to let Rafaema learn to use a weapon. The young Dragon shook her head.

“Does your book talk about when I was…ninety, Ferris? Right up until the Antinium arrived?”

“Yes, Lady Rafaema.”

The Dragonspeaker at that time had not been happy. Rafaema had, among other things, entered into a number of relationships, tried almost every illicit substance she could find, and caused a lot of trouble for her wardens. But Dragons couldn’t mate with lesser species. Well—bear offspring.

Rafaema must have read the unspoken words crossing Ferris’ mind. Her eyes narrowed.

“I was lazy. But when the Antinium attacked—they sieged Manus. Even Manus. I wasn’t allowed to fight. Not in the first war, or the second. So I started training. Do you know how long it’s been?”

“Two decades.”

“Yes. But I don’t level. But I trained because I realized the Antinium are a threat. The war council decided to send spies to Liscor. To figure out what’s going on. We thought the Hive there was planning to take over Liscor. But instead—there was that one. Bird. The Hunter. But that’s not what I care about. I want to know about the Human.”

Ah. She’d gotten to the same topic Ferris had seen underlined in a dozen reports. The Human.

“If you want me to find you a summary—”