Razorscale floated invisibly through the door, above a vacuous cluster of human nobles. He would have described them as the most egotistical ashpiles that he had seen all year, if he had not also seen the people who entered before them. And after.
If this tittering herd of frills and useless glow-magics was the human kingdom’s excuse for a ruling class, Razorscale was very unimpressed. And he hadn’t expected much.
These are worse than the humans back home, he thought in scorn as he drifted through the vast empty space in the ballroom. There was a dais with an empty throne at one end, and nobles with visible mage lines gossiping everywhere. I knew I was out of the loop on this side of the continent, but I see I’m not missing much.
When he’d teleported from home to the Dryad Forest Festival, he’d been burdened by wares, responsibilities, and an apprentice — no time for exploring the area. Now was the first time he thought about the fact without regrets about the missed opportunity.
Everyone in the room was a fop. Showing off their wealth, bragging loudly, and pretending to have more magical skill than they actually did. There were a few representatives of other races, which was promising at first glance, but they proved to blend in with the pompous humans. A trio of merfolk floated in suspended water bubbles, talking to a human about food. Something that was probably a gnome under all the lace and ruffles sneered about vocal magic. A cluster of taller humans without mage lines turned out to be elves; Razorscale had no patience for species that looked so similar to each other. He knew full well the differences. He also didn’t care. Especially when these representatives weren’t doing a thing to impress him.
No one in the room so much as blinked as the invisible dragon passed above their heads. They all continued chatting while Razorscale searched their auras for the one he’d sensed briefly through the spell.
“I expect the coronation contest will involve healing magics,” said one snobbish human. Razorscale kept moving.
“My sources tell me that the contest will be something unexpected,” said another.
A third laughed about peasants thinking much of themselves: “You’d think they’d stop trying to compete! They should realize that no amount of charms and toys will elevate them to our level.”
Razorscale started to move on, then paused when the reply to that comment made him wonder.
“Maybe they think if they use an amulet often enough, they’ll get powers of their own!” The speaker chuckled disdainfully.
Do the humans here NOT all have the ability to learn magic? Razorscale thought. When did that happen?
His pondering was interrupted by the arrival of several newcomers who caught his attention immediately. Four-legged, and radiating magic.
Unicorns. Razorscale instinctively tried to flare his wings in a threat display, and was irked at the reminder that he didn’t have them. Instead he froze in place to see what the top-tier magic users would do.
Spot him immediately, that’s what they’d do. And say nothing about it. Razorscale held still while all four of them looked directly at him. They were surely having a lively discussion through private telepathy, but no one would be listening in on that. Even the pixies fluttering about their heads showed no sign of noticing.
After a long moment, the lead unicorn turned away and the others followed suit. Razorscale breathed easily again.
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
It’s a power play, he realized. They know something that the rest of this room doesn’t, and they’re not about to give it up immediately. They’ll be watching me.
The question was, what would they do with this information? Razorscale decided he should speed up his search, then make himself scarce. There was no guessing what kind of trap the unicorns might set for him as a means of increasing their own reputation. Catching an intruder here, an invisible one no less, would be noteworthy.
Razorscale made sure not to cause any breeze or otherwise give the humans a reason to suspect his presence. He was confident now that the specific mage he sought was not here, but the other four might not be recognizable without close study. And more people arrived every few minutes. His quarry could yet appear. While he searched, he listened; among the vapid discussions lurked important details.
Like that bit about the peasants not being able to wield magic on their own. Razorscale had met plenty of humans who’d never learned, but he had been told when he was still fresh from the egg that the aggravating two-leggers all retained the capacity. That hardly made them rare among the intelligent races, of course. But the kind of trouble they could get up to with it did.
Dragon history lessons covered the early days when many of the modern races arose, some splitting from their common ancestor and others created through purely magical means. Things were a mess back then, and humans were to blame for all of it. They kept coming up with ideas that no one had considered before — ideas that honestly didn’t need to be considered — and they ran with them. Crazed children with power that was frankly beyond them. Razorscale had always been glad that he lived in the modern era, instead of the wild times.
He hadn’t been surprised that the mages behind this new shape-stealing spell were human. He’d honestly expected nothing less.
Another gem-bedecked noble spoke of magicless competitors in an upcoming contest. Razorscale wondered if his teachers had been mistaken — but he didn’t wonder for long.
There’s no questioning dragon histories. Not compared to whatever records these fools have, short-lived impetuous creatures that they are. Do they not know their own history? I’d say that’s disappointing, but my opinion of them was already too low to be let down.
A swirl of pixies caught his attention. They were moving with unseemly haste to rejoin the unicorns. Nearby humans glanced up in curiosity. When the pixies whispered something to the lead unicorn, two of the four immediately strode toward the entrance, prompting a quiet wave of murmurs among the nobility.
The other unicorns weren’t watching Razorscale anymore. He drifted over to a window to see where those two went.
Out the door, down the walkway, across the street … to throw a containment field around the only people at a picnic table. And walk off with them.
Razorscale swore silently but fiercely. He gave up on eavesdropping and flew toward the heavy door, flitting through before it shut behind more nobility.
The breeze he left in his wake prompted several pretentious mages to remove their eyeshades and begin exclaiming about the energy source that could only be an invisible spy. As Razorscale left the room behind him, voices spoke up in equal parts alarm, outrage, and gossip. The nobles all blamed each other.
Idiots, he thought. Idiots and ashpiles. The humans were the former, and unicorns the latter. They had interrupted his investigation before he’d learned anything he could use. He hadn’t even laid eyes on the mage who had hexed him, much less the whole group.
And that aura just passing the guards looks familiar, he thought. Now that I’m LEAVING. He raged at the unicorns for costing him this opportunity.
And for kidnapping his own group of idiots. That too.
But as angry as he was, he tempered it with caution, since he knew full well that he wasn’t up to taking on a group of unicorns in his current state. He would have to be clever.
I don’t even know what they want with a handful of random humans. They could of course suspect that there is something inhuman about them, but the pixies were the ones to notice, and they’re generally not up to that kind of detection magic. So either these pixies have had their abilities enhanced, or they simply overheard something. Either way, I can’t guess what the unicorns want with my idiots.
The procession of unicorns and captives wasn’t subtle as they left the picnic grounds. Razorscale paused before haring off after them, and he checked the table for anything left behind.
He found his apprentice in the shadows underneath. Razorscale let the breeze herald his arrival. “Tell me what happened,” he said.
The apprentice did, and the two dragons fell to planning.