A good month passed. It flew by way faster than what I was comfortable with. My sense of time was beginning to warp more with every day that passed. How old was I by now, really? Fourty-ish? I couldn't even fathom what time must feel like to the old man. I'd seen Vrintas in court, but apart from the occasional nod I didn't get much from him. It was depressing. I missed our sarcastic dialogues. And our ramblings about things that didn't actually matter.

Apparently, his falling out with Urs had been much worse than I first anticipated. Well, if that was even possible. Where could one go if he'd already hit rock bottom? I guess I knew a place or two, actually.

Anyways. We continued our training. Only progressing at a snail's pace, but at least there was progression to speak of. Arcon Themion was a great tutor. Patient, friendly, motivational and always ready to answer any of the dumb questions I threw at him. Though, he was mostly busy with training Rheka directly. With him being a firecaster and all. Obviously, he did supervise my personal tutoring as well, but my actual trainer was Damarion. We had to thank our affinity divergence for that. As always, life loved to throw its curveballs at me.

That doesn't mean I wasn't content with Damarion's tutelage, though. He wasn't a bad tutor, per se, but his methods were... unique. They stood in stark contrast to Themion's. Where Themion would offer words of encouragement, Damarion would belittle you, provoke you even. I'm sure he had his reasons. It did kind of work. He'd push you, push you and then push you some more. Put on serious pressure in the mock fights, make you run laps through the palace if you screwed anything up. Things like that. And there were a lot of things I screwed up. I wasn't even sure how physical training would help me. Rheka, sure, but me? I thought I was supposed to be the mana donor here, not a marathon athlete.

He was a man of little words. Every time I had a question he'd just refer me to Themion, like some unhelpful support hotline. Yet he surely had high expectations of us. I was beginning to warm up to him a little, even if he was a complete dickhead.

By the way, Damarion was a Nekro as well. Meaning he had his own Forpal - Gryps. I'd seen him once or twice. Well, "seen" is a bit of a stretch. The guy was practically invisible. Seriously, he was like a living shadow, always there but never quite there. You’d catch glimpses of him out of the corner of your eye - dark flickers of something with wings, maybe a flash of talons. Then, poof, gone like smoke in the wind. He was also sort of translucent in daylight. Damarion called him Gryps, which was fitting since he looked just like that ancient Greek creature. A griffon, I think. Part lion, part eagle, all attitude. It's been a while since I've dabbled into Greek mythology.

When you did catch a look at him, it was... something else. Shimmering feathers that looked like they were made of starlight, or maybe just my imagination playing tricks. The lion part of him seemed... unfinished, like it was fading in and out of existence. His claws, however, those were as real as it got - razor-sharp and ghostly all at once. And his eyes? Glowing silver, almost like they were watching you, even when he wasn’t really there. Creepy. But, in a weird way, kind of reassuring. As if he was always keeping an eye on things, even when you couldn't see him. Which was often, cause he was literally just never around.

Our training aside, I had adapted to palace life a bit more. We were still guests, though I was unsure for how long. We can't just leech off the royal family for ever, right? Actually, maybe we could. It wasn't like we were disliked here or anything, quite the opposite, in fact. The King, as depressed as he might be, had enjoyed our company the few times we'd spoken to him. I couldn't say much about the Queen, since she was a rare sight in court, but Zilra's sisters seemed to like us. In their own way. They'd turned down their constant teasing a tad, which was good news. Instead they just asked us questions now. Where we came from, what we're going to do. The answers to which weren't all that riveting, of course. But they seemed interested enough regardless.

Zilra continued her training in the ways of the spear. When Urs wasn't around, which was often, Skelduz would act as a substitute. You know, that bodyguard with the huge rainbow shield who'd never take his helmet off. That guy. Whenever she wasn't training, she'd drag us all to her favorite treasure trove of a room. Or through the streets of the city, though that had gotten old very quickly. The King's trinket hoard was much more interesting. Tavrin and I would read through our books whenever we'd go there. While Rheka and Zilra occupied themselves with the artifact collection. I was surprised how they hadn't managed to break anything yet. Some of the stuff in there seemingly passed the Frumef test.

Allow me to explain, if you haven't paid close attention. I know I hadn't paid any, because Tavrin was a terrifically boring teacher. Frumefs were essentially Vannder holy relics. Religious artifacts that would enhance one's elemental powers. They could be made of any material you can come up with, even the elements themselves. Those rings we use for our sparring for example? They were allegedly Frumefs. Or rather a cheap knockoff of one. All very exciting, I know.

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Regardless, the reason why I'm even talking about this, is because those things were spread all over. And the Vannder were looking for them. Even those mercenaries at Felsvar were apparently after them. To us normies, a Frumef was no more than unusable junk. You had to be a real Vannder to make use of one. The genuine ones, anyways.

Tavrin was fascinated with those things. He couldn't stop talking about them once I'd opened the pandora's box to his brain. I didn't believe any of it. Just as any holy relic from my old world's religions, the artifacts he talked about were probably nothing more than the stuff of legends.

But it wasn't like I wasn't interested in them in general. There was a big opportunity to make some money there.

Speaking of which - if I’m being honest with myself, I still had no idea what I really wanted out of this world.

Shocker, right?

I’d joked to Rheka that I was going to get rich, live the high life, maybe buy myself a palace like this one, maybe three. Hell, maybe even hire a few servants to fetch me wine and snacks on demand. When I'd eventually get hungry.

You know, the typical dreams of a lowlife turned dragon. Only this time, without the constant threat of jail time hanging over my head.

But... for what? Why the obsession with wealth? What would I do with it? You might ask.

I never wanted to be a hero. I wasn't in it for fame or glory. Screw that nonsense. None of that interests me. I’d seen enough of that hollow pursuit back in my old life. Rich people, flashing their cash around, but never really happy. Always chasing something they couldn't quite define. I guess that was what scared me the most. What if I ended up like them? Chasing after a pile of coins, only to find out at the top of the heap that there’s nothing there?

So, then, why did I still want it so badly?

I guess it boiled down to one thing. Control. In my old life, I’d never really had any. I’d been tossed around like a leaf in the wind. Never really in charge of my own destiny.

Money? Well, money buys control. It lets you call the shots, make your own decisions. No more being at someone else’s mercy. No more scrambling for scraps. It was true freedom.

But there was a problem with that logic. Because here, in this new world, I already had more freedom than I’d ever known. I wasn’t behind bars. I wasn’t scrambling for survival. I had power. Magic, for god’s sake. I had people who actually gave a damn about me. And yet, here I was, still chasing after gold like it was the answer to everything. Old habits really do die hard, I guess.

Maybe what it came down to was fear.

Fear of falling back into that helplessness, of losing everything again. Fear of being powerless. Money... well, that was my safety net, right? If everything else fell apart, at least I’d have that.

Or maybe I was just chasing the same shadows I'd always chased, without even realizing it.

And then - crash.

I jumped, my heart nearly falling out of my ass. “What the-?”

Zilra and Rheka were standing by one of the shelves, both frozen in place, staring at a precariously tilting artifact that was this close to toppling over. Some kind of ancient vase, or maybe a jar. I had no idea what it did, but knowing our luck, it probably contained the essence of a long-dead deity or something equally world-ending.

“Rheka, I swear-” I started, but before I could even finish my sentence, Rheka jumped forward and caught the artifact just before it hit the floor, saving the day at the last second.

“Got it!” she shouted, clearly proud of herself, as if she hadn’t just almost caused a royal incident.

“Barely.” I mumbled. “You two do realize we’re surrounded by things that could probably harm us in one shape or form? Try not to destroy anything that looks important.”

Zilra rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. I've been here my whole life. It’s not like any of this stuff actually works anymore. Half of it is probably just glorified junk.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Glorified junk, huh? So you wouldn’t mind if I accidentally knocked over that glorified junk in the corner?” I bobbed my head toward a particularly ominous-looking blue orb.

Zilra glanced at it, hesitated, then looked away. “That’s... different.”

“Yeah, sure it is.”

Tavrin, sitting cross-legged on the floor, closed his book with a thump. “You know, we could avoid all this artifact dodging if we just left the palace. Maybe went somewhere more interesting. Like, I don’t know, Skyros?”

Rheka’s eyes lit up. “An adventure? Yes, yes, let’s go somewhere! It's boring here! We haven’t done anything fun since Feelswar.”

Feelswar?

I shot her a look. “We haven’t done anything fun? Last time I checked, we almost died at Felsvar.”

Zilra smirked. “Oh come on, Argi, you can’t tell me you don’t miss it just a little. All that excitement, the danger-”

“Sure, Zil.” I interrupted. “Because almost getting fried by fireballs is exactly how I like to spend my days.”

Rheka ignored my sarcasm. “We should go on an adventure! Maybe we could go to another forest?”

Oh please not another forest. Everything but another forest.

Tavrin nodded eagerly. “Exactly. It’s been too long."

I sighed. “So, what? You brats want to wander off into the wild again, just so we can probably end up lost again?”

Zilra shrugged. “There's a place we can try. All the people looking for adventures head there."

Here we bloody go again.

Before I could respond, there was a sharp knock at the door. We all turned as a guard, clad in draconic-themed armor, stepped inside. His expression was serious.

“My princess.” the guard began. “The three of you are needed in the conference chamber immediately. I was told to bring the dragon as well. The King is waiting for you.”

I blinked, caught off guard. The King? What's going on?

Noone said anything. The guard gestured for us to follow. “Your families are already there. Please, come with me.”

The room fell silent as the reality of the situation settled in. Zilra raised an eyebrow, exchanging a glance with Tavrin. Rheka looked up at me, clearly confused, but also curious.

Guess we're about to find out.

Whatever was waiting for us in that chamber...

...it couldn’t be good.