When I woke up, Ju was already out of bed. I smiled, listening to the birds chirping outside—it’s such a nice way to wake up, surrounded by birdsong! She might’ve left some food for them on the terrace; Ju has a way with animals. But then again, of course she does... she’s an elf. A wood-elf, to be precise.

Yawning and stretching, I glanced around to locate her, remembering she’d invited me to join her for breakfast, though I’d been too sleepy to agree at the time. “Just five more minutes!” I’d mumbled back then, clinging to sleep.

She had to be nearby since she couldn’t stray too far from the ring.

During the night, we’d ended up moving to her room because Sid had been restless. I’d felt his excitement over our telepathic link—he’d probably been dreaming about flying again.

Rolling onto my other side, I looked toward the terrace connecting our rooms. The pink satin drapes swayed gently in the breeze, and sunlight poured over half the terrace, hinting it was already well into the morning. But the extra five minutes or so of sleep had done wonders, I felt fully restored, finally ready to start the day.

I chuckled at the memory of those stormy hours flying with Sid, and his excited talk afterward about needing a place for his dragon hoard. It had been a truly remarkable day.

Note to self: I need to get him some real books on dragons to replace that fairy tale collection he’s been reading. The question was, where could I even find such books?

I glanced around for my slippers—missing, of course. So, I padded across the cold marble to the bathroom, freshened up, and checked my face in the mirror. Last night, Sid had rolled over and smacked me in his sleep, so I half-expected a bruise, but thankfully, there was nothing.

Pulling a blanket over my pajamas, I tiptoed barefoot to my room through the connecting door. Sid was sprawled out across the bed, a blissful grin on his face. I covered him gently, making sure not to wake him.

Still no sign of my slippers. With a sigh, I headed barefoot to our council room to see if breakfast was still an option. Mike had set up a buffet for all of us, including the remaining followers.

Only my bandmates were still around, enjoying an extended coffee break and chatting away. Guess I overslept more than just five minutes! Their heads turned when they heard my bare feet padding across the marble floor.

"Morning!" I greeted. "Did you save me something to eat?"

"Plenty!" Hew replied, just as Mike stood to pull out a chair for me.

"Oh, Mike, you don’t have to…" I started to protest, but he just shrugged.

"Want me to get your usual breakfast? We’ve got a couple of new cooks; let me know if it’s any good," he said, pouring me a coffee.

"You’ve got to try the bread," Tom added, still chewing. "Fresh from the oven!"

"Is this the last of the coffee?" I asked, savoring the first sip.

"Nope, Alice brought in a fresh batch," Mike replied. "She’s out in the barn, actually—scouting a new horse since Lynx said he’ll only be available for special cases."

I chuckled at that.

"How are Lyn and Sid integrating?" I wondered aloud.

Mike sighed, but Tom jumped in first. "You introduced Sid as your son! Did you really think that through?"

A sudden flare of anger rose in me. Who was he to question my choices? I tried to swallow it down, working to keep my tone even. "That’s a serious question, Tom."

I decided to leave it at that for the moment, refusing to let the anger have its way. Why was I so defensive? Turning to Mike, I asked, "Who can hear us here?"

He shook his head. "Technically, no one. I borrowed Ju’s bracelet and activated it. Part of why I arranged the buffet; staff will only be over on that side."

I nodded, appreciating his foresight. Smart. I took a deep breath—these were my friends, I need not forget that!

“Well done,” I said to Mike. “Someone must’ve tipped off the Xsoha about my plan to expel them—they’d already prepped a counter. I did manage to expel them, but now they’re likely to drag me through some legal channels.”

“Hm? You don’t sound all that worried,” Hew observed.

I sighed.

“I am concerned,” I admitted, “just not sure what action to take yet. For now, it’s best we’re more careful about where and what we say, so securing this area was a smart move.”

“We need to find the leak,” Tom suggested. “One way is to give out different information to different people and see what surfaces. You can even create varying versions of the same story,” he explained.

I turned to him, feeling calm enough to speak.

"Good point," I replied. Or maybe I could use truth rays, though I’d need someone else to handle the follow-up questions afterward—that spell does make me a bit tipsy, so I kept that option to myself for now. "Now, about Sid…" I began, gathering my thoughts. "I've adopted him, so he is my son. Since adoption doesn’t quite exist here, it’s simpler just to call him my son outright. Let no one suggest otherwise! Has anyone asked you about it?"

Something in me bristled at having to explain myself, but I kept it in check. Tom raised a brow, then nodded.

"Plenty have asked. Naturally, I confirmed it. But there’s still the matter of the lynx mount no longer in the barn—and then there’s the dragon talk…”

His answer reassured me. "Hmm. We could say the mount’s out hunting in the forest. I might even play that part sometimes—could be fun. As for the dragon… they’re just tales and illusions, right? Think that’ll fly?”

“Maybe. Tricky, but possible.”

"Why a son?" Hew asked, curiosity laced in his voice. "Why not a cousin or a brother if you want him as family? Honestly, you look too young to have a son that grown up—that's why I’m asking!"

I snorted. Humans, always with the questions. You have to explain everything to them!

"Hew, it’s about what we are. As a junior dragon, he needs a mother. Without that bond, he feels lost, incomplete. He’s too young to be on his own, and as a mother dragon, you just… sense these things."

"Lores, the mother dragon!" Tom quipped, only to lift his hands defensively as I shot him a look. "Got it, no jokes, no comments! We love you, Lores!"

Satisfied the matter was settled, I turned toward Mike. "Where are the others?"

"Ju’s downstairs, doing her doctor stuff."

"Doctor stuff?"

"People from the villages come by with wounds, ailments—she sees if she can help them. She also asked if you’d stop in. There are a few cases with parasites, and she hoped you could handle that. If you agree, she'll set up some appointments for you."

I sighed. Ju always had a way of grounding me, even when she wasn't there. Now I was officially Pest Control Lores. With a nod, I gestured for him to continue.

“Tina and Michael are with Drackar—he wants to assess their training progress. I think Lynx—uh, Lyn—is with them too, unless he's out on his rounds. Loretta, Tenessar, and Moran went to check on the villages, making sure things are running smoothly now that the Xsoha are gone. Hew wants to start rounds tomorrow to log the work, and we were just discussing the best way to organize them. Oh, and Durham asked to speak with you. He even submitted an official request for an audience—he said you’re so hard to reach…” Mike finished with a wry look.

I raised an eyebrow and sighed.

“Did I forget anyone?” Mike glanced at the other two.

“Sir Gamesh!” Tom replied.

“Oh, right! Sir Gamesh also wants to know who failed to inform you of the prince’s visit. I told him it was my mistake,” Mike said.

“Yeah,” Hew added with a chuckle. “Before he heard that, he demanded a public flogging of the ‘idiot responsible.’”

“Lovely,” I muttered. Another mishap from my ‘Ju-mana-week’—or whatever they call them here. “He has no right to meddle in my affairs!”

“If you don’t discipline me, it might look like you deliberately ignored the prince,” Mike explained.

“I’m already doing plenty for that prince,” I protested. “He should really stop pestering me. Fine, we’ll say I ‘flogged’ you.”

“Nice,” Tom chimed in from the side. “He got a private flogging session? Can I sign up for one, too? I can just see you in a leather suit…”

I snorted, cutting him off. “Tom! Is there anything you can’t turn into some perverse joke?” I asked, aghast.

He shook his head with a mischievous grin. “Nope, that’s me. You know that by now. Just so you know, you look adorable when you’re mad!”

I sighed in exasperation and turned to Mike, the more level-headed one. “Alright, keep it vague. You’ve been punished, and if anyone wants details, they can come to me for answers—you’re not allowed to say anything. Anything else? Where is Sir Gamesh now?”

"They went hunting," Mike explained.

"Hunting?" I asked, surprised.

He nodded. "Yeah, a bear was spotted nearby. Probably level ten or so. They officially requested permission, and I went ahead and told them you'd granted it."

I shrugged. "Oh. Alright, then."

“Right, there’s one other thing,” Tom added. “That neighbor…”

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

“Ah, Baron Dillingwater!” Mike said, recalling it.

“What about him?” I asked.

“He sent over a wagon with serfs who’d tried to flee his domain. Eleven in total. Ju ended up paying the guard eleven silver for bringing them back."

I blinked. "Wait... Serfs are trying to escape? And they’re being brought back?”

Tom sighed. “That does seem to be the case.”

“Can they be freed?” I asked, mulling over the options. "What if we refuse to take them back?"

Hew shook his head. “Freeing them isn’t possible. If you don’t take them, they’re just reassigned to other domains in need of labor. You can grant them a pass—a document that allows them to relocate with their families to another domain. That way, at least, they’d have some say in where they go.”

“They really can’t be freed?” I asked again, hoping for a loophole.

Tom nodded. “They’re bound to the land they’re born on as serfs. That’s the law here. Technically, they could move between domains or even to a town, but as serfs, they pay taxes through labor instead of money. That’s the main difference.”

“Ugh, got it. But it still feels so… wrong. I guess we should start offering an allowance to anyone wanting to leave.”

“Careful with your decisions," Mike cautioned. "The system may be flawed, but it holds things together, for better or worse. I know you’d like to free everyone, but remember, you’re responsible for the entire domain and everyone in it. You could let them go if you want, but soon we’ll need more hands for the harvest—and after that, to prepare the fields for the second. If we fall behind, we might even lose that second yield.”

I sighed, weighing my options, feeling the pull between doing what felt right and what was needed to keep things running.

*

As I headed downstairs after breakfast, I met Sid coming up the stairs like any regular human, instead of just flying straight up to the fifth floor.

"You missed breakfast! Where were you?" I asked. "Aren't you hungry?"

"I got breakfast from Kate," he explained.

I raised an eyebrow, surprised. "You ate properly, right?"

He nodded with a little smile. "Yes, Mom. I didn’t slurp or chew with my mouth open!"

Not exactly the answer I’d expected, but hopefully Kate had set out a hearty breakfast for him—and it was good to know he was minding his manners.

"And how did it go with Kate? Everything alright?"

“Oh, she was a little scared at first, but she says it’s fine now.”

I raised a brow.

“Why was she scared?" I asked. "Did you do something she didn’t like?”

“Mom!?" he replied, feigning indignation. "I only took her up to the rooms I wanted prepared and had breakfast served. That’s all!”

“Oh, alright.”

Still, why did he want to have breakfast separately from us? And the poor girl was probably intimidated by his high level.

“Who’s Kate, actually? The tall one with dark hair?”

“No, that’s Katerine,” he explained. “Kate is the blonde one with friendly eyes!”

Well then. Sid seemed to know the housemaids better than I did. Blonde with friendly eyes? There had to be at least five or six blondes, and didn’t they all have friendly eyes? I shrugged.

*

The King of Kings paced the grand room, his heavy steps echoing off marble floors, then turned toward Merhang, the Gray Eminence, with a weary sigh.

“Read it,” he ordered.

Merhang ripped the magic seal and infused the letter with a touch of mana. The words began to materialize as though spoken by the prince himself.

“Dear Dad…”

The King snorted, waving his hand dismissively. Merhang, taking the hint, skimmed ahead.

“The journey has been quite…”

“Skip!” the King said, rolling his eyes.

“The scenery here is…”

“Skip!”

“We saw the baroness bathing in public, surrounded by a band of orcs…”

“Ah, now it’s getting interesting!” chuckled Nebesko, standing off to the side.

The King scowled in disdain.

Merhang glanced up briefly, then continued, “...but we lost her in the crowd.”

“Did he even make it to his destination?” the King asked, his tone heavy with exasperation.

Merhang gave a slight nod. “Yes, Majesty. The missive was sent after his arrival at what appears to be a silver mine within the baroness’s domain.”

The King let out a weary sigh. “The boy is utterly useless. What does your spy have to report?”

Merhang’s expression flickered with faint amusement. “Her latest report came in today and includes more details. Shall I skip over the baroness’s... colorful behavior? There’s quite a bit about that.”

“Skip it,” the King said dismissively, though Nebesko let out a disappointed sigh.

Merhang glanced up, momentarily catching the King’s eye, before continuing. “Her paladin and one of her warriors were somewhat loose-lipped, but the rest of her staff proved fiercely loyal, making it difficult to gather much more information. However, they did catch sight of her bathing with two men in the lake—one introduced as her son, the other possibly an uncle or a close family friend.”

“A son?” the King asked, his eyebrows lifting ever so slightly.

Merhang raised his eyes and nodded to confirm.

"Yes, and there are troubling reports about both his and his friend's power. They’re said to be on par with Nebesko.”

The King of Kings chuckled dryly, clasping his hands behind his back as he began to pace again.

“Oh, I’m not surprised, Merhang. Cala has built a reputation for herself—I expected her to attract formidable allies. But a son powerful enough to rival Nebesko? Now that is... intriguing.” He paused, glancing sharply at the Gray Eminence, his eyes narrowing with deliberation.

“Who made this evaluation? Are there any more details? How could he have grown that strong so quickly?” Nebesko interjected, his voice laced with both unease and a flicker of excitement.

Merhang consulted the letter again and nodded. “Our source states the boy’s magical aura is unusually potent. It’s not just raw power—it’s distinct, almost... ancient. Sir Gamesh remarked that it felt otherworldly. He’s cautious, even uneasy, about both the boy and his companion. Gamesh believes he felt there something... older, something beyond this realm.”

The King tilted his head, a spark of intrigue lighting his expression. “Gamesh is sensible, but an alarmist if there ever was one. And they have this powerful boy posing as her son?”

“Yes, Majesty,” Merhang confirmed. “He’s officially presented as such, and their behavior strongly supports the claim. It’s convincing enough to suggest it may be true.”

The King of Kings let out a low chuckle. “So, we may finally have a complete picture of Cala’s team. They were supposed to be five: the elf, the archer, the son, and the friend. Five, including Cala herself. Interesting that she had her son embedded in her group all along. Though this only loosely fits the intelligence we had on her team. How old is she supposed to be?”

Archmage Flores interjected, his tone pensive. “She might have performed one of those dark, forbidden rituals to amplify his power. It’s hard to explain otherwise.”

“The team may have evolved over time, or perhaps the earlier details we had were deliberate misinformation,” Merhang replied smoothly. “As for her age, our preliminary evaluation places her between twenty-eight and thirty-two.”

“It doesn’t seem right!” Fiona, Duchess of Cromwall, said with a soft chuckle. “Or she had her ‘son’ very young!”

“That’s not unheard of,” Nebesko replied with a shrug.

Merhang nodded thoughtfully. “True. But,” he turned toward the Duchess, “there’s also the possibility that Cala is older than she appears, and her current identity is just one of many she’s taken over the years. Her look is completely manufactured.”

Archmage Flores’s eyebrows shot up. “What classes are the son and the friend?” he asked, a spark of concern in his voice.

“Both have mage classes,” Merhang replied. “One is a mage-warrior, the other a mage-rogue.”

A heavy silence fell over the room as the implications sank in.

“That’s unheard of!” Archmage Flores finally exclaimed. “Two archmages of unknown classes? They could be incredibly dangerous for the Kingdom. And what about the dragon rumors?”

Merhang gave a slight shrug. “No confirmed sightings yet, but plenty of stories from the orcs—which are notoriously unreliable—as well as the peasants. There are also signs and traces, but nothing definitive.”

“Peasants might mistake a wyvern for a dragon,” Fiona said dismissively. “Though even a wyvern would be no small matter. Still,” she turned to the King, her expression shrewd, “with such strong fighters at her command, I’m left wondering—what exactly is her role in all this?”

The King of Kings huffed, a faint trace of amusement dancing in his eyes.

“She’s exactly where she’s meant to be. That barony borders both the orc tribes and an elven kingdom—right at their shared edge. And when you put orcs and elves together in the same place, it’s like mixing the components for an explosion. All it takes is a tiny spark, and boom.”

“And if there’s no spark?” Nebesko asked, his tone laced with curiosity as the King's smirk widened and Merhang chuckled softly.

“Then we provide one.” he said. “Now, I see why those orc assassins had to be contracted. But the real question is: who’s the fuel for the fire?”

“A certain princess, of course—Therella,” the King answered with a touch of venom in his voice. “The orcs will get their revenge on the elven king’s family. And what better way to inflame those feminized elves and spur them into a blood feud against the orcs than such a grievance?”

“But the barony and the prince might be in danger!” Fiona pointed out, her tone edged with concern.

“That’s precisely why it’s good that Cala has high-level fighters with her,” the King replied, a glint of calculation in his eyes. “I didn’t expect her to make nice with those orcs, but it only makes things more interesting. If something happens to the prince, we’ll have a solid pretext to bear grievances and claim more land once the big war concludes—because mark my words, there will be a big war. When two fight, the third wins, isn’t that how it goes? Besides, if she succeeds, we win. If she fails, we still win.”

Nebesko frowned slightly. “So, are we meant to help her—against either the orcs or the elves?”

“Why would the orcs attack her? Didn’t she align herself with some of them?” Fiona asked, her brow furrowed.

“Drackar’s orcs are renegades,” the King explained, his voice steady and assured. “Almost as despised by the tribes as the elves are. Their presence doesn’t diffuse the tension; it adds fuel to the fire. Cala and her team are just another spark in this volatile mix.” He turned to Nebesko. “And no, of course not. We’ll encourage her, promise support, but we won’t commit our troops. We don’t need a war spilling into our domains.”

Fiona glanced at him, her expression a mix of awe and suspicion. “Your Majesty, did you know Cala would come here? I’m baffled by your foresight. Is this... the oracles’ work?”

The King shrugged, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Any good plan requires only minor adjustments as events unfold,” he said dismissively, as though it were the simplest truth in the world.

Archmage Flores crossed his arms, still unconvinced. “The elves may be too strong for the orc tribes. We could end up with a vast elven kingdom on our border—and no orcs left to buffer it.”

The King chuckled lightly, shaking his head. “I doubt it. The elves have some very high levels, true, but the orcs have the numbers. The orc tribes might fall first, but they’ll call for aid from Hologomora, the Orc Kingdom. And let’s not forget K’hordock—Hologomora's High King - he’s no ordinary warlock; he’s a force of chaos. He’ll take down a few of those high-ranking elves before this is over. The elves might emerge victorious, but they’ll be too weakened to handle another grinding war. The orcs will face the same fate."

"The key to dealing with elves is attrition—grind them down, strip away their weaker members, and their society crumbles. What remains will be a handful of ancient monsters rotting away in their grand halls. As for the orcs? Similar story. In the long run, all that land will be ours.”

His gaze shifted to Fiona. “When do you leave for your residence and the celebration?”

She nodded, her posture straightening. “The day after tomorrow.”