The day started with a good breakfast, or in Kaln’s case, an adequate one.
He managed un-burned scrambled eggs this time; really it was just a matter of using the right amount of oil—much less than he would have assumed—and taking them off the heat at the right time. They still came out a bit singed, but that was fine. The cook from the apprentice wing at the Archives had always burned everything, and Kaln to this day like a bit of char on his food. They were bland, though. His package of supplies from the Silver Hound contained a decent selection of spices, and he had no idea what to do with any of them. In the end, he had his eggs with a sprinkle of salt.
And some bread, which was quite novel; unlike the flatbread to which he was accustomed, the Verdi kind was incredibly fluffy, within a dark, crispy crust. Actually he quite liked it. It was also bland, though.
Sitting in his hoard chamber, chewing his eggs and bread, Kaln thought about the Phantom Legion. They were specialized in, apparently, everything that needed done, right? And even a normal army would have cooks attached. Surely he could get some ghosts in here to make his meals.
Kaln thought about spectral, bony fingers handling his food. About the grotesque shadows of mummified flesh that flickered across them. It was…fine, probably. He knew why it was important to avoid corpses, and these weren’t really corpses, right? They were phantasms, unearthly beings able to selectively interact with the physical world. No decomposition, no disease-causing microorganisms.
He thought about ephemeral bones and translucent scraps of rotting flesh…safely handling his food.
Bland was fine. He could live with bland.
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After his recent excursions, Kaln had some time to make up—some attention he owed to other members of his harem, after Izayaroa had monopolized him for a few days. With their urgent business now settled, it was time to buckle down and do what he did best: make people happy.
“His personal journals!”
Emeralaphine had laid out her gift—only the first of the two he’d bought for her, Kaln judged it wise to pace these out—across one of the numerous seemingly random tables in her chamber, and was now clutching the first volume, leafing through it with astonishing delicacy considering her claws. She had been in her larger form upon his entry but had adopted this one to handle the ancient journals. Her avid expression he could only describe as satiated avarice; Kaln honestly wasn’t sure whether she actually planned to read the Archmage’s journals, or just delighted in owning them. Not that he was about to ask.
Hers was the first dragon’s chamber he had seen which suited his mental image of the word “hoard,” and was a stark contrast to her magnificently orderly library next door. The wealth on display in here was, of course, astonishing, and the artifacts ran to the obviously magical—many of them floating, glowing, or moving about unaided—but it was mostly just heaped at random. There were no actual piles of coins and jewels, but there were quite a lot of less-than-orderly stacks of chests, several of which were themselves so opulent in design he couldn’t imagine them containing anything but even more luxuriant treasures.
“This is splendid, Kaln,” she praised, carefully setting down the leather volume next to its siblings and turning a wide, genuine smile upon him—the first from her he had yet seen. It was enough to set his heart fluttering. “And to think, you found time to obtain this for me while entertaining her? I begin to think I have sadly underestimated you.”
“I can’t say I mind, if it means getting to see you so happy,” he replied with his very best smile—the roguish one, slightly lopsided with just a hint of teeth and a mischievous tilt of the eyes. Emeralaphine actually drew in a sharp little breath, going faintly pink about the ears, and he had to actively refrain from grinning like a fool. Ah, he’s almost forgotten what fun she was, how adorably vulnerable to flirtation. “I know you understand that my attention will often be pulled in multiple directions; I can’t always give you my undivided focus.”
Kaln stepped forward and reached out to take one of her clawed hands in his. Keeping his gaze locked on hers, he raised it to press a gentle kiss to her scaly palm.
“But even when you cannot be at the forefront of my thoughts, my lady wife, know that you are never far from them. If, as this time, I happen to see something and think ‘Emeralaphine would like that…’ Well, then it should be yours, and it is my solemn duty to make it so.”
“Flirt,” she accused, her cheeks bright pink now. Emeralaphine withdrew her hand, cleared her throat, and tossed her head once, seemingly unaware of the agitated way her tail was flicking about behind her. “Well! I suppose, then… That is, after such a thoughtful expression from my dear husband…you are owed some manner of reward.”
“Absolutely not,” he countered, widening his grin and injecting another Standard Grin Unit of mischief. “My thoughtful expressions are no less than your due, and I could ask no greater reward than the warmth of your regard.”
Tail lashing even harder, she glared at him while simultaneously going a deeper shade of pink. “Kaln, you clod, I am—”
“I know, love. You’re trying to find an excuse to do this.”
This time, now that he knew he could do it, he did so deliberately, and with control. Kaln rose to meet her, gliding forward and up till his feet hovered off the ground—till it was Emeralaphine, not the gravity of the very world, who was the anchor determining his position in physical space. Slipping an arm around her waist, he took her chin in his other hand, lifting it to make her look up at him where he now loomed over her.
The poor dragon looked absolutely moonstruck, claws quivering helplessly at her sides as she couldn’t seem to figure out what to do with them. He could almost feel bad; deploying his best moves on a shut-in of multiple centuries was grossly unfair. Almost…if she were not so rapturously lovely to behold, so warm and cuddly in his arms, so absolutely adorable in her confused reactions.
“And I simply can’t have that,” Kaln murmured, gradually leaning closer, one iota of space at a time. “My darling, you need no excuses. That which you should desire should be yours. I mean to lavish you with all the adoration you’ve been unfairly denied… From the grandest of gifts, to the mere warmth of a kiss.”
Emeralaphine crossed the last inch herself, making a soft, desperate noise deep in her throat as she kissed him hungrily. Kaln rewarded her with a tightening of his embrace, slipping his hand around to cradle the back of her head.
He gave her a few seconds to enjoy it, and then flexed his power again. She squealed into his mouth as he spun and dipped her, a feat of which he probably wouldn’t be capable with his feet firmly on the ground. But Kaln had learned he could move a dragon to wherever he wanted them with his mind, and move himself relative to a dragon, and that resulted in Emeralaphine swept off her talons, bent nearly to the floor, and clinging to him as he pressed down on her from above.
After that first exclamation, it only made her kisses more ardent.
Obviously, he didn’t keep track of how long they spent like that, save that it was a while. He attuned himself fully to her every little movement and expression, and could sense it when she began to be too flustered to enjoy this as much. He was guiding her into territory she’d never explored; this could not be done all in a rush. Thus, before she could begin to be actually uncomfortable, he gently straightened up, set her down on her claws, and gave her a bit of breathing space.
Both of them, in fact; Kaln found himself just as pleasantly in need of catching his breath.
“Ahem!” Emeralaphine somewhat clumsily extricated herself from his grasp. “Yes, well, that… That was a very pleasant diversion, husband. Thank you, but I…I have to…”
“Of course, my lady,” Kaln said, bowing graciously to her. “Your pardon, I don’t mean to distract you from your own projects. I shall eagerly anticipate the next time we can…talk.”
She was already flushed, an effect even more visually striking now that he had her all disheveled; at that she went bright red, stammered, and turned to hustle away into the depths of her hoard.
Kaln indulged in humming to himself as he sauntered out of Emeralaphine’s chambers, carefully straightening his own clothes and hair as he went. This was going extremely well. Not that he wasn’t looking forward to the…culmination, but there was the destination, and then there was the journey. This was fun.
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“How very like you, husband,” Tiavathyris said with one of those enigmatic little smiles of hers, gently turning over the volume of Zu’s poetry in her claws. “Layers of deceptive complexity, in such a seemingly simple gesture. I cannot but interpret in this an acknowledgment of my own area of special interest… But also, perhaps, a bit of gentle mockery at my expense? A subtle expression of frustration? What an intriguing bundle of subtext.”
Kaln stared at her. Off to the side, Vadaralshi snickered loudly.
“You know,” Kaln said after a long moment in which Tiavathyris just smiled mysteriously at him, “it is possible to read too much into things. I saw that, I thought you would get a kick out of it, so I bought it for you. This was before I discovered what a challenge you’re apparently going to be to shop for.”
That vague little smile broadened into an expression of open humor, which Kaln filed away. He had the strong impression he was only glimpsing the edges of her personality, still, but it was clear enough now that she preferred directness and seemed to dislike obfuscation or conversational games.
Actually…this might prove even more of an issue, not less. Kaln wasn’t sure he even could converse with someone and not swath himself in layers of performance and social maneuvering.
And having now had that thought, he found himself suddenly disinclined to open that box any further.
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“My apologies, then, husband,” Tiavathyris said, inclining her head graciously. “This was most thoughtful of you, and I am most grateful. I may or may not actually read this—it is legendarily awful—but I shall assuredly treasure it.”
She paused, looking at him expectantly, and Kaln started to answer.
Then stopped.
She wanted him to be…just…open, and honest? Straightforward? Himself?
What in the infinite hells would that even be like? What did it mean?!
Kaln cleared his throat. “Well, I’m…glad it pleased you, then. That is genuinely all I was trying to do. So, I guess I’ll…make a mental note of this. ‘Likes books.’ Should be fun to find you more gifts in the future, and see what you read into them.”
What in the hells was he doing? You couldn’t just say something like that to your own wife! How was he even meant to talk to someone he cared about in a way that wasn’t calculated to appeal to their feelings? You couldn’t just talk at someone with no regard for what it would do to them, that was… hurtful, and rude.
And just to make this even more confounding, she smiled further—broadly and warmly. “I am glad to see you settling in, husband. You seem notably more relaxed; it is gratifying.”
“I am not sure if ‘relaxed’ is the word I would choose,” Kaln said warily, “but…I do feel like I’m getting a bit of a rhythm here.”
Come on, this couldn’t be what it took to get into Tiavathyris’s good graces. Both because that was absurd and went against everything he understood about relationships, and because if this was what it took, he was good and boned.
“That is well. As you are here, let us resume what we had begun to explore before your errand. I have, as I promised, been giving thought to how best to approach physical training for you, and I have a thought I would like us to investigate.”
“Ah, yes,” he said, putting on a smile. “Well, by all means! Consider me at your disposal.”
She tilted her head slightly, and blinked once. “You are not enthused at the idea.”
“I—” Kaln started to answer, then cut himself off. She was more than smart enough to spot dissembling, and she did not like it. Okay…open and honest. That…wasn’t going to work, in the long term; Kaln really did not think he had that in him. For now, though, the plain truth about this matter in particular would probably not be too offensive to her sensibilities, so he decided to risk it. “Honestly? I don’t think I’m ever going to be as interested in the subject as you are. Not even remotely. But, it’s not as if I don’t understand the benefits of physical health. I told you about the exercise program at the Royal Archives, right?”
She nodded, watching him with a calm expression.
“So… I hope you will forgive a lack of…enthusiasm on my part. I’m not merely indulging you, Tiavathyris. I do see how this matters, and you are surely a better coach than I could dream of having.”
“I thank you for that honest answer, husband.” Indeed, she rewarded him with as warm and kind a smile as he had ever seen from her. “Enthusiasm is helpful, but ultimately, it is diligence and discipline that matters. If you will lend me these, I promise I shall see them rewarded.”
“It’s a deal.”
“Come, Vadaralshi,” Tiavathyris said more briskly. “As we discussed.”
“Ugh.” The young dragon rolled her eyes dramatically. “C’mon, mother, you’re already in that form.”
“Yes. As you are about to be.”
She snorted, but shifted, landing on the padded surface in the center of the hoard room in her smaller form. Kaln’s first instinctive thought at entering to find Vadaralshi present had been disappointment that it meant his conversation with Tiavathyris would not go in the same way as the one he’d just shared with Emeralaphine, but he had immediately chided himself for that. It wasn’t as if that was really on the table, anyway. They were a while away from that point.
“Yeah, yeah,” Vadaralshi grumbled, rolling her shoulders and neck. “I’m not your performing monkey, you know.”
“Are you not? Why do you imagine anyone bothers to have children?” Tiavathyris turned a cold shoulder to her daughter’s outraged stammering. “I have observed, husband, that you seem able to take in far more information about a dragon than your mere physical senses could tell you. In considering the fact that you are in better physical condition than your physical experiences could explain, and that your metaphysical nature means you probably cannot develop stamina and strength by the same means as a mere human, I have decided to embrace and attempt to exploit these traits rather than struggling against them. While it is not in my nature to approve of shortcuts, perhaps this truly is the better way to train a godling. I would like you to focus fully upon Vadaralshi as she performs a sequence of movements. Open yourself and seek to take in everything you can. We will test if you’re able to reproduce a dragon’s physical feats as readily as you can their magic.”
“I…don’t think it works like that,” Kaln said, frowning. “I specifically can’t reproduce a dragon’s magic, I tried that with something I saw Izayaroa do, and got no result. I can take control of magic a dragon creates, that’s all.”
“Interesting,” she murmured. “Worth noting, then, and you are likely correct. However, the physical and the magical are fundamentally distinct. And even if the experiment does not succeed, having the result matters. If it does not work, we will simply try something else. Now watch closely and focus, please. Vadaralshi, the Pomnorret Sequence, fourth kata.”
Kaln had expected more backtalk before she grudgingly complied, but Vadaralshi straightened up into a balanced stance and bowed to her mother in silence. Then she turned and launched into a sequence of movements.
She was such a squirrelly character that Kaln was taken aback for a moment at how graceful and precise it was. The young dragon smoothly executed a series of kicks, performed with her arms raised in a guarding position over her upper body; the kata incorporated arm movements, but they seemed to be blocks rather than offensive strikes. Her expression was focused and uncharacteristically calm the entire time.
He tried to concentrate similarly, in the interests of Tiavathyris’s experiment. He could feel her movements, her mental state—also more intent and serene than he was accustomed to from Vadaralshi—getting a sense of what her body was doing that went beyond merely what his eyes could tell him.
“Well?” Tiavthyris asked when her daughter had come to a stop and bowed again.
“I…got…something,” Kaln said, frowning in concentration. “I don’t think it’s something I can…steal, though. I mean, my sense of what was happening was greater than would be normal, but that’s not the same as… I don’t think this is the shortcut you’re looking for.”
“If you are able to absorb the physicality of a sequence from more than merely the angle of your eyes, that is indeed a shortcut, husband. Even if you can only learn things in the traditional way, that will be a great help. Still. Let us try to rule it out firmly before we abandon the idea. I’d like you to try to reproduce what you just saw, from memory. The memory of your deeper sense of it. Try to reflect the sensation of her movements through your own body.”
“I don’t…”
“I suspect that the greater handicap here will be your unfamiliarity with using your body in this manner, husband. You are likely right, in that you cannot simply steal a dragon’s fighting technique the way you can their magic—but it is possible that you are wrong, and simply do not have the physical expertise of your own to properly leverage what may be a latent ability.”
“Very well, that makes sense,” he agreed, stepping up onto the pad as Vadaralshi backed away to make room. “Though, just for the record… I also don’t think I can kick that high.”
“Also possible,” Tiavathyris said with a smile, while Vadaralshi leered at him. “But also a point about which you might be wrong. It is a certainty that your body now has greater capabilities than you are accustomed to, and I am certain you have not explored them fully. This is merely an experiment, husband; it is not possible for you to fail. Focus, recall, and attempt to execute, and one way or another, we shall learn something.”
He nodded to her, then closed his eyes, thinking back. Trying to bring to mind what it had felt like to absorb Vadaralshi’s combat dance, not merely to see it. Kaln positioned his feet, raised his arms, gathered his breath… And kicked.
“Wow,” Vadaralshi drawled thirty seconds later. “That was absolutely pathetic.”
“She specifically said it wasn’t possible to fail!” he retorted.
“And yet, you pulled it off! Good job, Pants, you continually impress me.”
“Oh, get off me. That was my first try.”
“Yeah, fair, I guess I gotta take that into consideration.” She deliberately broadened her smirk into an insane grin. “For a first-timer, that was merely sad. Anyone would think you’d been raised in a library or something.”
“Shut up, daughter,” Tiavathyris said with a sigh. “Very well, husband, I thank you for indulging me in that. We have, indeed, learned something. Now, I have another idea.”
“Ah, okay,” he said, also sighing. “Good.”
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“Making the rounds?” Pheneraxa asked as he emerged into the central vault some time later. “I suppose after you spent so much time with Izayaroa, the others do require their share of attention.”
“Yes, yes,” he said, knuckling the small of his back. That hadn’t been a full training session, but Tiavathyris’s various “experiments” had nonetheless put him through his paces. She was right; his body worked differently now. He wasn’t sore exactly, but could definitely feel how much he’d been moving. “I haven’t exactly worked out a daily routine here, you know. And I’m not just acting out of obligation—I told you yesterday, I do happen to like the women to whom I’m married. Spending time with them is not a burden.”
“And that wasn’t a criticism,” she said, grinning. “By all means, Kaln, do keep everybody’s egos and feelings in mind; it’ll be that much more peaceful around here for us all if you preemptively ward off anyone feeling…slighted.”
“Uh huh, I seem to recall you mentioning something about that. What’re you doing outside the library, anyway?”
Her tail lashed once and her long face fell into a disapproving frown. “Hmph. Mother’s in there, being extra insufferable. It seems someone went and gave her a rare set of books, so she’s laying all the usual protective enchantments. Old volumes don’t just preserve themselves, you know.”
“Really? Those belonged to an Archmage, surely they’re already enchanted.”
“Oh, please,” Pheneraxa scoffed, “Mother is like five Archmages acting in implausible unison. She’ll be critiquing and analyzing his work before deciding how she can do it better; I give it even odds whether she strips off the existing protections to build her own, or integrates new measures into them. Either way, Kaln, that ends up making it a better gift than you probably realized. You gave her a project to work on; there’s nothing she likes more.”
He suddenly turned away from her, staring at the front door with a frown. Kaln sensed a dragon approaching. Not an unfamiliar one, that wasn’t what caused him to suddenly go on alert. On the contrary, this was the second time he’d felt Vanimax soaring toward the lair at high speed, filled with such a storm of overwhelming emotions and hostile intent.
The last time wasn’t something he was going to forget any time soon.
“Problem?” Pheneraxa asked pointedly.
“Maybe,” Kaln said. “I’m no soothsayer, but…brace yourself. I have a premonition that something terribly annoying is about to happen.”
She glanced at the door through which he’d just come, behind which Tiavathyris and Vadaralshi were still in that hoard chamber, and smirked. “Ah. Vanimax is coming home?”
From that point, it took him only seconds at the speed with which he was moving. Kaln barely had time to inhale deeply and mentally prepare himself before Vanimax had slammed to the landing outside and come charging through the entrance corridor.
Skidding to a halt just inside the vault, the black and red dragon raised his head and let out a deep, trumpeting roar which echoed through every corridor of the ancient Timekeeper complex.
Kaln felt the response to that summons in the form of every other dragon present stopping what they were doing to come out of their own chambers and investigate. That told him Vanimax did not make a habit of this; the elders, at least, would undoubtedly ignore him if they didn’t find something interesting about it. Even all of that occupied only a distant corner of his mind, however, as he was mostly fixated on what Vanimax was carrying tucked in one of his huge claws.
Or rather, who.
“Vanimax, what have you done?” Izayaroa snarled in outrage, flaring her own wings aggressively.
“I have done what a dragon ought!” Vanimax roared back, setting down his burden none too gently. She hit the floor in a stagger and stumbled to the side, wheeling her arms until she lost the struggle and went sprawling to the floor. “Taken what I want! If you can have yourself a mortal pet, so can I!”
It was a human woman, a pale northerner with brown hair in a black dress, seemingly Kaln’s age or younger.
“Uh, now, I’m not a scholar or anything,” Vadaralshi commented, lowering her head to ground level to peer at the girl from across the room, “but isn’t that hair ornament…”
Kaln noticed it too, now that she’d pointed it out. The young woman had some kind of decoration in her hair made from gold, sparkling with inset jewels. It had come significantly askew, given her generally disheveled state at the moment, but it was still pinned securely enough to her brunette locks to have remained on her head.
“It’s called a tiara,” Pheneraxa drawled. “A signifier of hereditary rank in Vale cultures. Well! Our dear brother is more of a traditionalist than I’d thought. It seems he’s gone and abducted himself an authentic princess.”