Holly and Valo spent that night holed up in the Lair beneath the tavern.

The place was sprawling and, in its way, majestic—especially at night.

During the day, light entered from any number of pinhole sources scattered throughout the Lair, making the entire place look like it was stabbed through with spears of light.

At night, however, the golden rays of sunlight were replaced by silvery, ephemeral blades of moonlight, pricking through the ceiling like shining stars.

Holly had long since fallen asleep—before sunset, even—in one of the dwarves’ quarters. She’d complained about the stone bed the first night, but, to her surprise, she seemed to get used to it rather quickly. It captured her body-heat, taking the edge off the cold of the expansive Lair.

With a full chamber, Holly supposed, this place would be downright cozy. Even as sparsely filled as it was now, Holly was enjoying the rest; she’d clearly needed it.

Upon seeing Valo, a few dwarves had elected to return to the Lair, abandoning their newly constructed homes on the surface. It had just been one or two the first night—Gino included.

Having no need for sleep himself, the young dragon decided to continue staring at the obelisk, trying to decipher what it said. Alvarro had been the one stealing from it—but there was no guarantee that he was the only dwarf who might. It was best that Valo try to find some answers sooner rather than later.

He stared up at the obelisk, fighting the urge to blink—as if blinking were the only thing keeping him from being able to read what was etched into the rough stone.

It was naive, of course, but he had already tried everything he could think of. He’d looked at it, tried copying what he saw into the stone, tried sounding it out… And the words remained as impenetrable as ever.

When staring at it unblinkingly didn’t work, he sighed and shook his head.

The massive obelisk was as tall as twenty men stacked on top of one another, almost reaching the ceiling of the Lair. It was wide, too—so wide that Valo had to plod around as he tried to read what it said.

And every inch of the massive obelisk was shifting. Reading it would be impossible.

Valo slumped down, equal parts frustrated and bored. He knew that there would be no easy answers when it came to his quest, but he still expected something.

After wallowing in his frustration a bit, though, Valo had a realization. He’d seen something like these shifting, ephemeral words before.

He’d seen it in the magical words that floated before his eyes. They were golden and not black, like the obelisk’s cracks, but the way they moved was eerily similar.

Curious, Valo willed the words to appear before him again, thinking of the spells he’d learned so far. Dragon Tongue, Fire Breath, Covetous Urge, he repeated mentally. Dragon Tongue, Fire Breath, Covetous Urge…

But nothing appeared before him—not read-out of his spells, no message. No shimmering letters. They’d only appeared when he absorbed a dragon-pearl—but there had to be a way to summon it at will.

“Dragon Tongue! Fire Breath! Covetous Urge!” he yelled aloud, frustrated.

And, just then, his vision swam, shimmering with the familiar light. The light sparkled and condensed before him, coagulating into a block of text:

Level 1 Broodling: Valo

Class: [None]

Attributes: [Undetermined]

Skills:

BASIC Skill: Dragon Tongue (Lv. 2)

BASIC Skill: Fire Breath (Lv. 1)

BASIC Skill: Covetous Urge (Lv. 1)

Spells:

[None]

Class Traits:

[None]

Bonuses:

[None]

Woah. The burst of text before him sent Valo stumbling back, his vision racing with the brightness of the ethereal words before him. His head started to pound, too, with the beginnings of a tension headache after exerting himself a bit too much.

The feeling was strange. The young dragon had never had a headache before. It slowly bloomed within his skull, earning a jump of concern from him. He felt it spread through his head, like spilled blood. It felt like a tiny creature was clenching his brain from within.

Valo found himself clawing at his own head, furrowing his brow with discomfort.

To his relief, though, the worst of the headache passed quickly. The sharp edge of it stabbing the inside of his skull was blunted within moments, leaving just the dull, simmering discomfort of a headache.

The feeling was, of course, familiar to most creatures—but not to Valo. He kept trying to shake it out of his head, only making it worse.

But his attention was quickly stolen by the words before him. Skills, Spells, Class Traits, Bonuses… he read.

He’d never seen all of this before. As far as he knew, he only had Skills.

Spells, Class Traits, and Bonuses were completely new to him.

What were they? How were they different from his Skills?

Spells, Spells… he pondered. He’d heard about those before. Holly had told him about mages—how they cast magic spells to achieve great and terrible feats. Could he…

Was he also a mage?

Grettle had told him that Wizards channel magic from their associated dragons. Did that mean that he was… channeling magic from himself? What exactly was the difference between a mage and a Wizard? Which one was he, if he could use magic?

These—and more—questions raced through his mind, each one without an answer.

But the ‘Spells’ bit wasn’t all that’d caught his attention.

What was a Class—and why didn’t he have one? His Dragon Tongue told him what it meant—a set of characteristics and pathways, aggregating attributes and aptitudes.

That didn’t help much, though. He did have characteristics and attributes already, didn’t he? Red scales, stubby horns, a unique stubbornness. Those were all attributes and characteristics, weren’t they? How come he didn’t have a Class, though?

He guessed that all this Class stuff must have something to do with the Class Traits. Perhaps it had an effect on everything else, then? All of them said ‘None’, besides his Skills. Perhaps having no Class meant having none of the other things?

That led Valo to a singular question: how could he get a Class?

Unfortunately, that was yet another question Valo couldn’t answer.

But this time, perhaps the answer was near—or, at least, as near as the dwarf Alvarro was. He definitely knew something. What else could he possibly be doing with all those dragon-pearls?

Those, too, would be of great benefit. Fifty-six pearls, give or take a few, would mean fifty-six levels into his Skills. Valo could only imagine what Dragon Tongue would be like with a few more levels in it—and the same was true for Fire Breath and Covetous Urge. Covetous Urge was already irresistible as it was, though, so Valo was a bit hesitant to even consider leveling that Skill up.

But, regardless, he needed to talk to Alvarro.

Just then, Valo heard the gentle titter of birdsong. The cool slivers of moonlight streaming into the Lair faded to a gray, filling the cavernous place with the silvery gray light of early morning.

Valo turned to leave the side of the obelisk, curving around it and marching over to where Holly was sleeping to wait for her to wake up.

But, to his surprise, Holly stood before him, rubbing her eyes sleepily. She let out a wide yawn, then an exaggerated stretch. Valo still found it strange that humans shut their eyes for eight or nine hours and just… lay there, doing nothing. He didn’t understand how Holly didn’t find it boring. In fact, she seemed to look forward to it.

Holly strolled over to Valo, suppressing her last yawn. She wore her uniform—the only outfit that he’d ever seen her wear. Her collar was undone and her buttons slightly undone, but she kept her knife fixed on her belt, ready for anything.

And Valo was glad for it—it meant that they could hit the road immediately.

“You discover anything about it?” Holly asked, nodding toward the obelisk.

Valo shook his head. “About the obelisk? No.”

Holly quirked a brow. “And about anything else?”

Valo nodded. “I don’t just have Skills. I have Spells, too.”

“Spells?” Holly scrunched her face. “You… can use magic?”

Valo shrugged. “In theory, yes…” He frowned. “I think.” He shook his head. “But that isn’t all. I saw Spells, Bonuses… and Class Traits.”

“Class Traits?” Holly’s confusion deepened, etched into her fresh face. “Dragons can have Classes?”

“You know what those are?” Valo asked, his eyes flashing wide.

Holly nodded. “When a dragon trusts a mortal with his magic, that mortal is… changed. Mages are able to use magic—Spells.” She raised a hand, gesturing as she explained. “But not all mortals who bond with a dragon become mages—at least, according to the legends. Paladins, druids, healers… There’re tales about all kinds of folk like that. The founder of the warriors’ guild was said to be a paladin, actually.” She stroked her chin. “Though, now that you mention it, there hasn’t been any one of those in… ages. I can’t think of a single one—just mages.”

“And Wizards?” Valo suggested.

Holly shook her head. “Mages and Wizards are one and the same. Wizards just have official titles in a kingdom or another. The Wizards are particularly… discerning about who joins their ranks, so they gave themselves fancy titles to distinguish themselves from just any mage. By and large, Wizards are just uppity arseholes who’re only interested in themselves and their own feelings and—” She glanced off, as if recalling a memory. She pursed her lips and turned back to Valo. “Anyway. That’s not important. You can have a Class, huh?”

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Valo nodded. “Seems like it.” He scrunched his face. “But I have no idea how I’d actually get one.”

Holly stroked her chin. “A mortal gets one by bonding with a dragon.” She peered down at Valo. “But you are a dragon… so I’m stumped.”

“Maybe Alvarro knows something…” Valo suggested, subtly trying to suggest that they go after him.

Holly, however, picked up on it. “We aren’t going to go find him, if that’s what you’re trying to get at,” she said with a flat look on her face.

“Why not?” Valo exclaimed.

“Because it’s dangerous.”

“Why?”

“Because… Because we don’t know who he is or what he’s capable of.”

“Yes we do,” Valo said stubbornly. “Gino knew him.”

“And we don’t even know if we can trust Gino,” Holly retorted.

“He has fifty-six dragon-pearls, Holly. He must know where the other dragons are.”

Holly raised her brows. “So that’s what this is about.” A slight smile teased the edges of her lips. “That’s really why you want to find Alvarro.”

“That’s why I’m doing all of this. We came to the dwarven lands looking for answers—and Alvarro has them.”

“Yeah, and a knife.” Holly frowned. “We don’t know what kind of man… dwarf we’re dealing with. He could try to take you—or worse.”

Valo shrugged. “That’s okay. You’ll protect me.” He tilted his head. “They’re… half your size, after all.”

Holly paused. “I… can certainly try…” She frowned. “But if there’re more than just him, there won’t be much I can do. Half my size or not, if several assailants really want to stab me, there won’t be much I can do against them.” She pursed her lips and sighed. “But you’re right. We didn’t come here to lounge in an abandoned Lair.”

Valo perked up, excitement in his eyes.

Holly put up a hand, tempering his excitement. “But we aren’t rushing in foolishly. We’ll wait until Gino rises and we’ll—”

“Wait until I rise?” a voice echoed from the entrance of the Lair. Gino stood there, a basket of fish slung over his shoulder. He guffawed as he marched over, the wet squelch of fish punctuating every step. “I’ve been awake since sunrise.” When he reached them, he dropped the basket and pulled the lid off proudly. Inside, there were three small fish that’d been roughly—badly—speared, and they looked as though they’d been chewed up by a rabid dog. “I caught breakfast.”

To Holly, they didn’t look too appetizing, with their guts all spilled in the basket and their blood pooling at the bottom.

Valo stretched himself up and used his front claws to hoist himself up enough to see inside the basket—and he too wasn’t particularly interested in the fish. They didn’t smell nearly as good as meat.

But the young dragon’s stomach was panging with hunger, to his surprise. He didn’t seem to have much need for food, having just eaten a few bites of Holly’s leftover meat and a bit of the pie she’d barely touched. He’d started to notice that humans—dwarves too, it seemed—needed much more food than he did, and he wasn’t sure why that was. He felt the pangs of hunger just as they did, but he could, for the most part, just ignore them.

Especially when there was something much more interesting dominating his mind.

“Do you know where Alvarro is now?” Valo blurted.

Gino paused, as if startled by the question. He hummed and stroked his beard with his scale-covered hands, leaving a few stray scales scattered on his beard. “Hmmm… Last we considered Alvarro, he was holed up somewhere in the woods.”

“Would you be able to help me…” Valo glanced up at Holly. “Help us find him?”

Gino narrowed his eyes, then nodded slowly. “I could. But…”

“But…?” Holly looked at the dwarf.

“But it’ll be dangerous,” Gino said.

“Holly and I can handle him,” Valo said, nodding and making a menacing face.

“Be that as it may,” Gino said, glancing at each of them, “I meant that it’ll be dangerous for me.”

“For you? You don’t have to come with us, Gino. We can handle ourselves.” Valo puffed up his chest.

Gino waved his hands. “Oh no-no-no-no. I most certainly must come with you.” He paused, nodding firmly. “But that isn’t the dangerous part. Finding Alvarro… That’s the dangerous part.”

When Valo and Holly stared at him blankly, he began to explain.

“Dwarves all have an… ability,” Gino explained. “We can all sense one another, to varying degrees. The closer an individual dwarf is to another—emotionally—the stronger the ability. Husbands and wives, children and parents, brothers and sisters can all sense one another’s thoughts, hearing them in their own minds as though they were their own. Dwarves with more distant relations—friends, comrades, neighbors—can only hear a shadow of other dwarves’ thoughts.” He raised a finger. “But as all dwarves in a settlement are bonded to one another, albeit shallowly, we all know where a given member of the village is at any given time.” He shrugged. “All of the dwarves above would be able to lead you to him. It’s like we share one mind.”

Holly raised her brows, amazed at the revelation. “One mind…” she repeated. “That… explains a lot. That’s why you don’t ever fight among yourselves—why a dwarf will never murder another dwarf,” she realized.

Gino nodded. “If we were to hurt one our own, we’d only be hurting ourselves.” He huffed. “And the damage would be far greater than just a bit of spilt blood. The Thought-Weave is… complex magic.”

“Thought-Weave?” Valo glanced at Holly for an explanation, but she only shrugged.

“That’s what we call the magic that connects us,” Gino explained. “Centuries ago, the first dragons—the eldest of the Elder Dragons—pledged us to seek a great treasure. As a reward for helping them, they bound us together so that we might better serve them.” He nodded proudly.

That doesn’t sound like a reward, Valo thought, narrowing his eyes. He didn’t dwell on the thought for long, however. The Elder Dragons… he mused, wondering what manner of dragons they were, and how was he different? Would he become one, one day? Right now, he was just a Level 1 Broodling, according to the words he saw. He couldn’t even fly right now.

But perhaps one day…

“Ever since then,” Gino continued, “dwarves have lived in unbreakable harmony with one another. Before the Elder Dragons granted us their great gift, we were endlessly fighting one another. Thanks to them, now we live in peace—a debt which we were gladly repaying with our tributes.” He frowned slightly. “Until the dragons disappeared.” He sighed and shied away from that subject. “Alvarro did the unthinkable. He broke from that peace and threatened another dwarf—and in so doing, he threatened all dwarves.” He chewed his lip, glancing down with a blank look in his eyes as he recalled the incident. “He threatened the entire Weave—all of dwarfdom.” He made a sound, as though in disgust, and his face twisted. “We exiled him for it—from the town, and from the Weave. We severed our bond with him… mostly.”

“Mostly?” Valo perked up. “So you could still find him?”

Gino nodded gravely. “But it means reconnecting with him, allowing him into the Weave again. And that is dangerous—to me, and to the dwarves. Alvarro’s mind… is toxic. We don’t know what happened to him, but it twisted him. It was seeping into all of our minds too.” He sighed. “I don’t want to risk him infecting us again… not unless it’s important.”

Holly glanced at Valo, allowing him to answer.

Valo nodded. “It is.”

And Valo truly believed that it was. He didn’t know what was going on with Alvarro, but he clearly knew something. At worst, finding the dwarf meant finding fifty-six dragon-pearls—the sheer number of Levels those would grant Valo would be immensely helpful in his journey.

And at best, finding Alvarro could mean finding another living dragon.

“Very well, then,” Gino said, a weight on his face. “It shall be done.”

The dwarf took in a breath and stiffened his form. With surprising grace, Gino sat down, folding his stubby legs in an elegant knot. He held his hands in his lap and shut his eyes. A low, steady chant escaped his tightly pursed lips.

Valo and Holly looked at one another, then back at Gino, unsure what they should be doing. They stared at the dwarf, who seemed fixed in a self-imposed trance.

Gino hummed a chant—more a tangle of knotted, warbling sounds than a language. Valo certainly couldn’t tell what he was saying, if anything, despite his Dragon Tongue. The dwarf sat there for a few minutes—and then his eyes snapped open, a faint light fading from them.

“I’ve found him,” Gino said simply.

Valo nodded. “Then let’s go—”

“Hold on,” Holly said. “Surely we can take an hour or two to, uh, ready ourselves.”

She glanced down at the basket of fish. As unappetizing as Gino’s butchering had made the fish, Holly was still starving. She could only get a bite or two down of the dwarves’ food at a time, and even when she asked them to hold the spice, the food was damn near inedible. Her stomach panged painfully now. She suddenly found herself agreeing with Archie’s decision to stay out of the dwarven lands.

Valo noticed her eyeing the fish. Right, he realized. Humans need food. He nodded, then yanked the basket over. He extended a claw into the basket and snatched the best-looking fish out from it. Before Holly could object, he set it down on the stone floor, took in a breath of air, and unleashed a burst of his Fire Breath.

Fire whooshed from his maw, blanketing the small fish and cooking it instantly—or, well, burning it instantly. When the light of the fire passed, the charred remains of the fish were revealed: the scales were blackened, the eye popped, and the exposed flesh a creamy, delicious white. Valo bent over, scooped it up, and tossed it to Holly in one smooth motion.

Holly fumbled as the still-hot cooked fish was thrown at her. After bouncing it from one hand to another, she managed to hold onto it.

“We don’t have an hour or two,” Valo said, marching toward the exit. “Eat while we walk.” He glanced back. “Lead the way, Gino.”

Holly sighed and straightened her uniform, fastening with one hand the buttons of her tight leather jacket over the mis-buttoned shirt beneath. With her other, she raised the fish and took a bite—a merciful respite on her weary palate. She trailed after Valo and Gino, and the trio exited the Lair.

Upon making it to the surface, Valo had half-expected the entire town to be there, waiting with their pitchforks and clubs. After all, as Gino had explained, dwarves could hear one another’s thoughts, right? Surely they’d all want to serve the only dragon they’d seen in three years—or, at least, confront Alvarro.

But no crowd of dwarves greeted them. No pitchforks, no clubs, no eager-yet-menacing visages. The tavern stood empty, half-drunken ales and stale whisky peppering the tables. The taverness, too, had yet to rise for the day, it seemed, and the tavern had yet to open.

Noticing Valo’s surprise, Gino spoke up.

“What is it?” the dwarf asked.

“I thought you all shared thoughts?” Valo stated. “I figured we’d have a few more folks coming with us…”

Gino shook his head. “Only closely bonded dwarves can actually share thoughts.” He paused, allowing himself a little sigh. “Unfortunately, I have no such bonds.” He sounded saddened by that.

Sensing his discomfort with the subject, Valo shifted.

“So what can you share with other dwarves?” the young dragon asked.

“It depends on the closeness of the bond,” Gino explained, slowly brightening up. “For the most part: vague feelings, general locations, desires.” He raised a finger. “Dwarves are the most excellent gift-givers.” He nodded proudly.

“But… only to one another,” Holly said flatly. She snorted. “I won’t hold out for my birthday, then.”

“Do you desire an army, my liege?” Gino asked Valo, ignoring Holly’s comment entirely.

“‘My liege’?” Valo scrunched his nose.

“I… brought you a tribute,” Gino said. “The fish. That makes you my Dragonlord.”

Holly guffawed. “Dragonlord Valo.” She bowed sarcastically.

“But I… I don’t know what that means,” Valo said, his voice slowly dropping to a whisper. “Well, I know what it means, but what do I have to do?”

“Also,” Holly chirped, “I’m fairly certain you can’t just tell someone that they’re your lord now. There’s got to be more to it.” She rubbed her chin. “And Valo didn’t even take a fish.” She raised the fish in her hand, still steaming. The smell of roasted trout drifted off of it. “If anything, doesn’t this make me your liege?”

“No,” Gino said flatly—sharply. “Dwarves bow to none but their Dragonlord.”

Holly smirked. “And you’re very eager to get on your knees, it seems…”

Gino frowned and glared at Holly. “Dwarves are quick to show loyalty, unlike humans.”

Holly opened her mouth to spit something back—a good, sharp quip. Valo could see as much in the way she began to speak. Sensing conflict brewing, the young dragon stepped in, answering Valo’s question.

“No,” Valo said. “I don’t want an army. I was just curious.” He gestured to the door. “L-Let’s go.”

Gino narrowed his eyes at Holly, and she brushed it off with a sarcastic look—and an exaggerated bite of the fish, as if to hammer in her earlier comment.

Thankfully, they dropped the whole spat rather than needlessly escalating it.

“We should definitely not have an army, actually,” Holly said, pausing to think. “If he’s dangerous, we don’t want to aggravate the situation. Let’s keep our numbers small for now. We shouldn’t even tell the others, if we can help it—seems like a few of them might be… troublesome.” She glanced at Gino. “Wait. Can you even keep a secret?”

“Can I?” Gino guffawed. “I am, in fact, the best secret-keeper in all of dwarfdom, and the best liar, too.”

Holly gave him a flat look. “You do see how that last bit casts doubt on the first, right?”

But, again, Gino ignored her.

“But yes, if you’re referring to the Weave,” Gino explained, “I can withhold my mind from it, if needs be. It’s a bit straining, but if the mission must be covert, then so be it.”

Valo nodded at Gino, then turned to Holly. “Are you ready, Holly?”

Holly sighed and nodded. “To hunt a mad, murderous dwarf? I don’t think anyone can be ready for that.” She took a big bite of the fish and set it aside. “But I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

Valo turned to Gino. “Lead on… my…” He frowned. “My vassal?” He wasn’t sure what to call Gino, if Valo was his liege, his Dragonlord.

“Herald,” Gino said, stomping to the head of the pack. He reached the door and rested a hand on the knob, a smile on his face. “I’m your herald.”