The early afternoon sun filtered through gaps in the clouds overhead, illuminating the streets with hazy rays and casting a pale luster on Kelzryn’s alabaster skin, highlighting the web of arcane fissures that marred his flesh. Bjorn walked beside him as they made their way through town, keeping a cautious eye on the dragon-in-human-form.

Despite the number of eyes on them, nobody dared to approach the pair. The locals skirted wide around them, casting worried glances in their direction as they whispered among themselves. Children scampered to hide behind their parents, peeking around their legs at the mysterious newcomer, while mothers pulled their curious offspring out of view, chastising them sternly for staring. The occasional murmur and snatches of hushed conversations reached Bjorn's ears as he passed by, but he paid little attention to what was being said.

He already knew the topic of the townspeople's discussion: A tall, horned, white-skinned foreigner who appeared to glow with his own internal light, wearing exotic, shifting clothes, and accompanied by a group of heavily armed Silverguard soldiers...well, who wouldn't take interest in such a conspicuous guest?

Kelzryn, on the other hand, remained stoically indifferent to the attention, striding confidently alongside the guards without flinching or showing any sign of unease. His posture remained upright, his bearing regal, with arms clasped behind his back and his gaze set straight ahead.

At his side, Bjorn struggled to maintain a neutral expression. He kept a respectful distance between himself and the dragon, well aware that Kelzryn's display of power at the forest edge earlier had only scratched the surface of the dragon's might. Just imagining the devastating consequences that could result from a fight between this ancient being and the town caused a knot to form in Bjorn's stomach—especially with Ebonheim away.

Kelzryn paused beside a blacksmith's stall, his azure eyes lingering over the display of freshly forged blades. With a whispered word that danced on the edge of hearing, he ran a finger along a broadsword's edge, and where his touch graced the metal, a faint blue glow suffused the steel.

"Eh?" The blacksmith, a burly man with a thick handlebar mustache, jerked backward, startled by the unexpected change in his goods. "What the...?" He stared at the blade in astonishment, holding it aloft and twisting it this way and that as he examined its new luminescent sheen. "Did...did you enchant this sword by any chance?"

The dragon ignored him, having already lost interest in the item as he moved on. His attention shifted toward a row of armor on display nearby, admiring the craftsmanship with an expert's eye.

"Hey, mister, did you put magic runes on this sword?" The smith called out again. "Is that why it's glowing?"

Kelzryn glanced back briefly, studying the smith with a gaze that seemed to weigh the man's worth. For a long moment, he stood motionless, regarding the human with a contemplative air. His gaze moved upward, focusing on the man's bushy, black hair—the only part of the smith that wasn't covered in soot—before returning back to meet the man's eyes. "Yes."

The smith's brows shot upwards, and his jaw dropped open as his eyes grew wide. "Th-thank you so much!" He fumbled with the hilt, nearly dropping the sword as he rushed to sheath the enchanted blade. "H-how much will that be, sir?"

"There's no charge. I do not require compensation." With that, Kelzryn resumed walking, leaving the gawking smith to marvel over the new enchantment.

Bjorn hastened to catch up, taking up position on the opposite side from where the smith stood. "That was awfully generous of you. Why not ask for payment in exchange for your services?"

"That was but a minor feat, hardly worthy of trade. A trifling gesture of goodwill, as I intend to establish friendly relations with your town and its inhabitants," Kelzryn replied without turning to face him. His stride remained steady and unhurried, despite the increasing whispers and stares as he walked deeper into the heart of town. "In any case, I have no need for mortal coin."

"Fair enough," Bjorn conceded with a nod, pausing to wave hello to a few residents who greeted them as they passed by. "So, what are your plans once Ebonheim returns from her excursion?"

The dragon remained silent for a few seconds before responding, "To speak with her, naturally."

"May I ask what you intend to discuss with her?" The question left his mouth before he could stop himself. Curiosity burned within his chest, and he found himself eager to learn the purpose of Kelzryn's visit.

Kelzryn inclined his head in acknowledgment, although he did not answer immediately. After a few moments, he spoke slowly and deliberately, choosing his words with care. "You may. However, it is a matter that concerns only Ebonheim and myself. Whether I disclose the details of our discussion will depend on the results of our parley."

"I see. Of course, I respect your privacy." Bjorn tried to ignore the small twinge of disappointment that gnawed at the back of his mind. Perhaps Ebonheim's friendship with the dragon would prove beneficial for the town, after all.

Kelzryn drifted next towards the communal well where women filled their buckets, his curious gaze following the arc of water as it was drawn forth.

"Why do you labor so for what falls freely from the sky?" he inquired, peering curiously into the well's depths. "Are there not streams and rivers in abundance throughout this valley?"

The women stared blankly at him, blinking in confusion. Finally, one of them nervously spoke up, "Y-yes, but this is closer." Her words tumbled out in a jumbled rush, as though afraid he might strike her at any moment. "They're easier to draw from, and don't run dry in the summer or freeze solid during the winter, unlike rivers."

"Indeed?" The dragon seemed mildly surprised by this information. "How very peculiar. Such a simple, logical solution escaped me entirely. How intriguing. This world keeps revealing new secrets every day."

Several of the townsfolk gasped at his strange turn of phrase, exchanging baffled glances.

The young woman blushed furiously, unable to meet the dragon's gaze. She busied herself with the chore of filling her bucket, careful not to spill any precious drops as she hefted the heavy load, balancing it against her hip as she hurried to get back home. Her companions soon followed, each carrying a full container or two. They scurried away as swiftly as possible without breaking into an undignified sprint.

"Are you saying you've never seen a water well before?" Bjorn asked, mystified by the dragon's remark. "I figured an ancient being like yourself would be familiar with basic human inventions. Wait, have you not visited civilization before?"

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Kelzryn shrugged absently, eyes focused elsewhere as he continued to watch the retreating figures of the villagers. "I rarely leave my lair, unless it is for personal amusement, and seldom involve myself with mortal matters." He lifted his hand and rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he pondered aloud, "Perhaps I should rectify that oversight. Hmm."

As Kelzryn moved on, his presence sowed a wake of whispering leaves in his path. The butcher's cleaver paused mid-chop, the tailor's needle halted in mid-stitch, and even the town's stray cats ceased their prowling to watch him with slit-eyed intensity.

He paused by a stall where a young lad struggled with a knotted rope that secured a bundle of firewood. With a glance that seemed to pierce the fabric of the material, Kelzryn reached out, his fingers brushing the knot. The ropes unraveled as if of their own accord, the wood clattering to the ground. The boy's eyes widened, and he stuttered a thanks, but Kelzryn was already turning away, his interest lost.

Further along, a woman wrestled with a canvas that snapped and fought like a living thing in the frost-kissed breeze. Kelzryn approached, his eyes alight with a flicker of amusement.

"Your battle is ill-chosen," he intoned, before tapping a finger on the cloth. Immediately, the fabric stilled, folding obediently into place. The woman blinked in bewilderment, but hastily nodded her gratitude and slipped away.

Without breaking his pace, the dragon raised an eyebrow at a wooden cart, whose front left wheel refused to budge even as the horse strained against the yoke. With barely a gesture, the stubborn contraption creaked into motion, its axle turning smoothly. The owner stared at the wagon, mouth agape, then hurried after his vehicle, shaking his head in disbelief.

Bjorn trailed silently beside him, doing his best to keep his facial expressions neutral as the dragon continued his tour around the town square. But inwardly, he wondered whether there was any mundane task or situation Kelzryn could not make easier or more efficient. If so, the list was surely a short one.

"I must admit," Bjorn uttered after witnessing Kelzryn's feats, "even the seasoned Arcanists that reside here don't have nearly as many spells that allow them to do what you do so casually—nor do they seem to have the mana to spare for such mundane tasks."

Kelzryn offered no response, other than the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

The day wore on, and Kelzryn's presence became a catalyst for both comedy and concern. Bjorn watched as the dragon attempted to engage in the tasks of the village, and many of those they encountered had mixed reactions to the dragon's attempt to lend a helping hand. From aiding a farmer in tilling a field by coaxing the crops to grow more vigorously, to assisting in repairs to the roof of the stable by levitating and moving supplies.

At one point, a blacksmith had asked him for help in getting his forge hot enough to work metal, which Kelzryn obliged by tossing a ball of flame into the furnace. However, his actions had sent the blaze roaring wildly out of control. Luckily, an Arcanist was nearby and easily reined in the rampant flames, containing them with his magic so that the surrounding structures could be saved from going up in smoke.

Others weren't so lucky.

Bjorn winced internally, witnessing one young lady covered in flour and another splattered in the remains of an egg that had burst on her. Kelzryn had somehow gotten into a confrontation with a chicken when trying to aid a third village girl with fetching eggs from a squawking, thrashing hen, causing the bird to explode all over the poor, drenched soul. As for how, Bjorn would likely never find out.

Kelzryn seemed oblivious to the commotion, acting as though everything he did was perfectly normal. Several times, Bjorn tried to warn him to exercise caution and discretion, but it was a futile effort.

From the corner of his vision, Kaela shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering under her breath, while Deneve covered her mouth and stifled laughter, pointing at the destruction in the rearview.

Bjorn wished Ebonheim would arrive as soon as possible so the dragon would finally be someone else's responsibility. Hopefully, her presence would keep the dragon's full attention. Until then, he would have to deal with the unintended chaos Kelzryn had wrought, which was inevitable due to his unfamiliarity with the mundane everyday life of humans.

As he watched Kelzryn sit down to play a game of chess with an Arcanist from the Ethervein Enclave, who had wandered over to introduce himself, Kaela approached and leaned in to whisper into Bjorn's ear. "We'll help clean up any mess, so you don't have to worry about that. But the town is a bit unsettled and anxious, and rightfully so, due to his presence. The Silverguard will try to provide a reassuring presence as much as we can. We also want to stay close to monitor the situation, since we never know when his patience may run out, or his mood shift."

"Understood." Bjorn nodded his head and offered her a grateful smile. "I appreciate the assistance, even though the effort shouldn't fall on your shoulders. After all, I invited him here. Also, if any of you can help spread the word discreetly, and subtly inform the citizens to treat him with respect and caution, I'd greatly appreciate that as well."

"We'll do our best." Kaela offered a crisp salute with a wry grin, before striding away to discuss the situation with Deneve.

After a few games of chess, the Arcanist waved farewell to Kelzryn and headed home. The dragon remained seated, gazing across the town square and the people within. Then he rose gracefully from the table, dusting off his lap with a few swipes of his hands. "Well, let us continue, shall we?"

The dragon then resumed his walk, strolling at a leisurely pace through the town square where children played games while parents traded gossip outside their homes.

A ball, stitched from colorful rags, rolled to a stop at Kelzryn's feet. A boy, no older than ten, approached with trepidation, his eyes wide upon the towering figure before him.

Without a word, Kelzryn bent and returned the ball with a flick of his wrist, sending it spinning into the air in a trail of sparkling motes. The children gasped, their apprehension giving way to delight as they clamored around him, their former fear forgotten in the face of newfound fascination.

One child darted forward and grabbed hold of his robe, tugging insistently.

Kelzryn paused, glancing down at the tiny girl, who stared at him with big brown eyes.

"Please do it again!" she begged, pointing eagerly at the sparkling trail of magic in the air.

Nearby, the parents gathered around, watching the spectacle with wary expressions, while some drew their children protectively close, ready to flee if necessary.

Kelzryn didn't respond immediately; instead, he knelt so as to make himself less imposing and motioned for the girl to come nearer. He held out a hand toward the girl and said gently, "Place your hand upon mine."

The girl hesitated briefly, looking toward her parents for permission. At their nods, she stepped closer and placed her smaller palm against his, resting against his glowing cracks. After a moment, she gasped, withdrawing her hand in surprise as her mouth opened into a large O-shape.

Kelzryn stood, inclining his head politely toward the girl and her family. "Your daughter possesses a strong affinity toward the etheric currents," he explained in a calm, soothing tone. "Perhaps she will one day become a talented Arcanist in her own right."

With a final bow, Kelzryn strode past the family and continued along the path leading toward the Magitech workshops. The other children quickly returned to their game, but not without occasionally glancing in his direction in obvious interest.

"An Arcanist?" Bjorn asked, arching his eyebrows as he studied the girl. "Do you think that's true?"

"Well, she has some innate magical talent, that much is clear." Kelzryn waved dismissively. "Whether or not she chooses to develop those abilities remains to be seen. I'm merely sharing my observation. The potential exists in many mortals, but most never discover it, nor utilize it properly."

Kelzryn gestured toward a Magitech workshop, its glass windows glowing brightly as the whirr and hum of machinery echoed from within. "Speaking of which, this is where your Artificers reside, yes? I wish to speak with them about the nature of their work. Will you accompany me, or remain outside?"

"I'll come with you, of course," Bjorn answered, unable to resist the temptation to watch Kelzryn interact with the town's foremost experts on magical devices. "I admit, I'm interested to learn more about your views on Magitech myself."