The hum of the workshop melded into the background, lulling Bjorn's senses into complacency while he listened to Kelzryn converse with Evelyne. Somehow, their conversation had drifted from Magitech devices to...Ebonheim.

Who even brought the topic up?

Not wanting to interrupt, Bjorn stayed silent and observed, his stance casual as he leaned against a table.

"I don't think 'connection' encompasses everything," Evelyne countered, folding her arms stubbornly. "You seem...close. How long have you known her exactly?"

"Less time than you would expect," Kelzryn replied cryptically, his cryptic mannerisms beginning to annoy Evelyne. "However, I assure you, we have a connection."

"Connection or not, you clearly hold some affection for her. Else, why bother visiting our town? Just what exactly are your intentions?" Evelyne demanded, placing a hand on her hip as she studied him accusingly. "Are you here to court her or something?"

Bjorn raised an eyebrow at Evelyne's inquisition. The Magitech inventor's boldness surprised him. Perhaps she'd forgotten the nature of Kelzryn's presence, or she'd become immune to its intimidation. Regardless, Bjorn deemed it wise to intervene before this conversation went any further.

"Now, let's not jump to conclusions here," he interjected gently but firmly, directing a mild frown toward Evelyne. "Remember what we talked about earlier; I told you he's a guest in Ebonheim. An important one, at that. So please, don't badger him with too many questions, lest you anger him."

He hoped he'd diffused the situation amicably enough. He didn't want to test his luck and risk invoking Kelzryn's ire.

Evelyne made a face as if she tasted something sour, but remained silent, allowing Bjorn to breathe a sigh of relief. He didn't enjoy being stern with her, but she left him little choice in the matter.

Kelzryn didn't comment, though Bjorn noted a faint trace of amusement in the dragon's otherwise stoic expression. Was that a smirk playing upon his lips? Bjorn couldn't tell.

"If you must know, Ebonheim had saved my life some time ago. Thus, I consider her a friend, and a precious ally," Kelzryn divulged, his tone neutral. "My purpose in visiting is merely to repay her kindness and offer my support."

"Wait, what? Ebonheim saved your life?" Evelyne asked incredulously. "When? How? What happened?"

Bjorn winced internally, wishing Evelyne possessed more restraint and decorum. He'd had enough experience conversing with Kelzryn to recognize when the dragon's patience had reached its limit. Thankfully, his guest didn't seem offended. Yet.

"Bjorn would be better suited to recount that tale," Kelzryn deflected Evelyne's inquiry, nodding toward Bjorn. "He was there during the incident, after all."

"Right." Bjorn coughed awkwardly, clearing his throat, reluctant to revisit the memory. But Evelyne's inquisitive gaze demanded a response, so he obliged. "To summarize the events: about a year ago, we took part in a war between Kungwans and the Seraphidae.

"The Kungwans had served as Kelzryn's...guard dogs in his territory, but a group of artificers had imprisoned him and siphoned his power to fuel a strange contraption. Ebonheim managed to free him by disabling the device...but it also nearly killed her. Well, it did, but she revived herself afterward."

The look on Evelyne's face suggested disbelief. Bjorn sympathized with her; it sounded far-fetched, even to him, and he'd witnessed everything firsthand. "Yes, that's essentially the gist of it. Trust me, the details are much harder to believe."

It was also better not to keep her in the dark about what Kelzryn was, lest she find out some other way. "And just so we're all on the same page...Kelzryn is a dragon." Better safe than sorry. Evelyne's skepticism had prompted the admission, but Bjorn hoped he hadn't just doomed the town by announcing that fact.

Evelyne's eyes widened almost comically, and Bjorn could practically hear the gears turning in her head as realization dawned upon her. He doubted that she’d dismiss the claim as readily as Deneve and a few others did—given her background in the arcane.

"A dragon?!" Evelyne exclaimed, her voice rising sharply. All the other artificers paused in their work, their heads swiveling simultaneously in the direction of her shout. Bjorn shot her a warning glare, silently urging her to moderate her tone. Fortunately, Evelyne caught his displeased expression, and her volume lowered instantly. "...are you serious? Why didn't you tell me that beforehand?!"

"I didn't deem that information relevant for you to know," Kelzryn answered plainly, raising a slender eyebrow.

Evelyne whirled toward Bjorn accusingly. "And why didn't you clarify anything either?"

"That's because—" Bjorn tried to excuse himself, but Kelzryn cut him short.

"Enough," Kelzryn uttered the command imperiously, his tone brooking no argument. "There is no point dwelling further on trivialities." He surveyed the workshop, and the artificers froze as his piercing gaze swept over them. Then he directed his focus upon Evelyne once more. "Tell me, Evelyne Blaise, what is Ebonheim to you?"

Evelyne blinked, caught momentarily off-guard by the sudden question, before recovering her composure. "Eh, what's Ebonheim to me...? Well...she is the pulse of this place, a beacon that guides us all. Her laughter is the melody of dawn, her counsel the comfort of dusk. She is...everything."

Bjorn smiled proudly, pleased at Evelyne's heartfelt answer. Less than a year had passed since their arrival, yet her devotion toward Ebonheim ran deep. Evelyne embodied Ebonheim's spirit as fully as any native did. "Well said."

Kelzryn didn't immediately respond, appearing thoughtful as he digested her reply.

"And what of her character," he probed further, his tone remaining impartial. "Has she ever acted unjustly? Conducted acts of cruelty, or exhibited malicious behavior?"

"Wha—what kind of absurd question is that?!" Evelyne protested indignantly, taken aback by Kelzryn's query. "Of course not! Our goddess is benevolent and fair! There is no flaw in her conduct or judgment!"

"Hmm..."

As if challenged by the dragon's dubious scrutiny, Evelyne’s eyes sparkled and she approached, planting herself directly before Kelzryn, meeting his towering gaze undeterred.

Bjorn could sense a fountain of admiration from her, ready to burst forth.

"She is the very breath of spring after a harsh winter," she gushed. “Generous and warm, she tends to the needs of the people as a gardener to her flowers. No evil exists within her heart. Every deed she performs stems from an abundance of love and compassion. She is the embodiment of virtue, the epitome of grace! Ebonheim is perfection, and no evil can be attributed to her name, I guarantee it!"

Evelyne finished her tirade breathlessly, gazing up earnestly at him with a determined gleam in her eyes, fists clenched and her shoulders set, daring him to refute her.

Bjorn cleared his throat, attempting unsuccessfully to mask his amusement. "Do not forget her penchant for festivals," he interjected with a smirk. “Her merriment could rouse even the most sullen drunkard to dance."

Evelyne blushed hotly and threw an exasperated glare at him, likely regretting her poetic praises. Bjorn couldn't suppress a chuckle at the mortified expression on her face, earning an icy scowl from her in return.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Kelzryn remained unfazed throughout Evelyne's effusive praise. "Her joy is infectious, then," he mused aloud, seemingly unaffected by Evelyne's fervor.

"Absolument!" Evelyne exclaimed, her hands animated as if weaving the air itself into a tapestry of Ebonheim's virtues. "Her smile melts the coldest heart, and her embrace dispels the deepest despair! Her touch alone brings warmth, comfort, and healing!"

"Does she indeed..." Kelzryn's murmur, barely audible, held a subtle inflection. Something akin to longing, or wistfulness, perhaps? Bjorn didn't quite catch Kelzryn's intent, nor could he interpret the shadow of emotion fleeting across the dragon's features. Before he could dwell further, Evelyne's excited declaration drew his attention.

"And her archery...Ma déesse, to watch her with a bow is to witness artistry. Her movements are poetry, a symphony of fluid grace. Every draw and release, a precise stroke upon a painter's canvas. When she releases an arrow, it is a sonnet sung to the wind, an ode to the stars themselves, etched in a chorus of flight and a song of victory."

"Err...Evelyne, I think he gets the picture," Bjorn interrupted awkwardly, disturbed by the ardent fanaticism in her rhapsody.

However, to his surprise, Kelzryn appeared intrigued rather than put off. He walked over to a table and sat on the chair casually, his demeanor relaxed. "Continue, please."

Evelyne happily accepted his permission, and launched into a lengthy, melodramatic prose glorifying Ebonheim's many "attributes and virtues".

Bjorn could only listen in bewilderment at the increasingly fantastical depictions Evelyne's praise presented while Kelzryn listened with the patience of a sage. Evelyne waxed poetics, and Kelzryn soaked in the flattery avidly, absorbing her eloquence with a gratified half-smile.

It was like witnessing two artists critique a masterpiece, marveling at its splendor and lauding its artistic merits. Except, in this case, Evelyne extolled Ebonheim's charms, and Kelzryn reveled in her adoration, adding occasional commentary or prompts for further exposition.

Bjorn sighed in defeat, resigning himself to the tedium. It looked like he wouldn't be escorting Kelzryn out anytime soon.

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Serrandyl peeked at Kelzryn and Evelyne's animated exchange through a nearby window, her twitching idly, ears perked. She didn't believe it at first, but that dragon really did show up in town.

Even though he looked like that, she could smell his draconic aroma underneath that glamour—a rich, crisp scent reminiscent of cool mountain nights and fresh rainfall, overlaid by something foreign and intangible she couldn't quite comprehend. Oddly refreshing, but alien. Still, the aura of his presence alone exuded power and dominance. Impossible to miss.

Serrandyl had expected him to intimidate everyone, maybe cause a commotion. Instead, he behaved...respectfully, surprisingly. Didn't terrorize anyone or raze the town. Not that Serrandyl believed he would. They saved his life, after all. Well...Ebonheim did, but she and the others helped...as moral support.

But with Ebonheim away on a trip, it was up to her and Bjorn to take charge and maintain order. Since Bjorn was occupied, she supposed the duty fell squarely upon her shoulders. Even if her task consisted solely of observing the dragon.

And observe him, she did.

He looked a lot different from his true form, and the glamor seemed...strange. Like something was missing. She couldn't put her claw on what exactly felt lacking, but it wasn't quite the same. Maybe he cast the spell improperly? She couldn't blame him. Spells aren't easy.

He didn't look completely human and there were cracks on his skin and clothes. Also, his horns were sticking out, and he had pointy ears, and his eyes looked scary. And his fangs. And his nails were claw-shaped. But otherwise, not a bad look.

Overall, Serrandyl would give him a solid seven out ten. Good looking, but definitely not normal. Nobody freaked out and panicked, yet. Humans could get skittish over the weirdest things sometimes.

Crouched between Serrandyl and the wall, Deneve slowly rose to join her at the window, inadvertently pressing her head against Serrandyl's chin as she too peeked inside.

"Whatcha looking at, Serra?"

"Nyo, nothing," Serrandyl mumbled, nudging Deneve's head away discreetly. "Just the dragon. He's visiting the workshop."

"The dragon?" Deneve craned her neck to view the window. "Ohh, right. Him. Is he causing trouble?"

"No, I think he's making small talk with Evelyne." Serrandyl flicked her tail idly, mildly amused at their lively chat. "Bjorn's hanging nearby."

"Huh, sounds cozy. Want a snack?" Deneve extended a piece of jerky, waving the treat temptingly under her nose. "Freshly salted and marinated. Spicy."

"Hmm..." Serrandyl inhaled the fragrant meat, tempted. Deneve could season the heck out of a slab of meat. She caved and snapped the treat out of Deneve's hand, chewing the spicy, juicy morsel. Delicious. "Thanks."

"Welcome," Deneve grinned, popping another strip into her mouth. "So...how's the dragon-watching going?"

"Okay, I guess." Serrandyl shifted to a more comfortable position, curling tighter around Deneve. "Nothing exciting happening."

"Hmm...boring." Deneve rested her back against her, leaning comfortably. "What else should we do?"

"Wait, I guess?" Serrandyl shrugged, swallowing a mouthful. "Ebonheim's away, and Bjorn's watching him. Nothing we can do except wait. Plus, Evelyne's there, and she's smart. She'll keep him calm. I think."

"Gotcha." Deneve nodded, chewing her jerky thoughtfully. "Want another one? I have extra."

Serrandyl glanced at the bag dangling enticingly under her nose, wafting tantalizing scents. Jerky. Salty, spicy, savory. Another wouldn't hurt. "Sure." She nipped another piece gingerly and tossed the tasty morsel into her mouth. Munch. So good.

"Anyway, so you and Bjorn met that dragon-guy before, huh?" Deneve questioned. "How was he like back then?"

Serrandyl scratched her ear, considering. "Scary," she muttered between munches. "Gigantic lizard. Lots of sharp teeth. Big wings. Smells nice, though."

"Exactly how big?" Deneve stretched her arms apart exaggeratedly, squinting her eyes. "Like, this big?"

Serrandyl chortled, and bumped Deneve playfully, nearly knocking her over. "Much bigger. About thirty times bigger than an Aetherframe."

"Thirty?!" Deneve turned to stare at her incredulously. Serrandyl returned her skeptical stare evenly.

"Yup," she affirmed, finishing the last of her jerky and licking her lips appreciatively. "Massive, scaled body. Sharp claws. Lots of fangs. Horns, scales. Very big."

"Whoa, huge!" Deneve whistled, impressed. "And Ebonheim freed him? How? From what?"

Serrandyl frowned, recalling the grueling details. "I heard it was some mysterious Artificers. Chained him up in his own lair. Used his power somehow. Lots of tubes. Ebonheim disabled a contraption. Then an explosion happened. Don't remember the rest." She shook her head, her ears drooping slightly.

Recalling that awful place and the foul contraptions reminded Serrandyl that Ebonheim had risked her life rescuing Kelzryn. Good thing she revived afterward, but the month that followed had Serrandyl fretting endlessly until Ebonheim recovered and everything returned to normal. Whew.

"Sounds rough. Glad everything worked out," Deneve voiced her agreement, patting her soothingly.

"Yeah," Serrandyl acknowledged, relaxing against her and resting her chin atop Deneve's head. "Me too."

They lapsed into companionable silence, sharing another stick of jerky together contentedly. Serrandyl continued watching Kelzryn and Evelyne conversing through the window, while Deneve busied herself scribbling random sketches onto the dirt ground.

Serrandyl didn't pry. Deneve often doodled, a habit she developed during idle moments. At least she wasn't complaining about something boring again. Serrandyl's ears would have started bleeding if Deneve went on another tangent about the lack of hunting opportunities or the shortage of spicy jerky. Again.

"Hey, wanna spar later?" Deneve proposed, breaking the tranquility. "Got a new sword technique I'd like to try."

"Sure, why not." Serrandyl nodded agreeably. She could always use a good workout, plus sparring would break the monotony. "Same rules?"

"Yeah. First one pinned loses. Weapons, armor, claws, and fangs allowed. Cheating and dirty tricks encouraged. Magic discouraged. Nothing lethal or damaging. No killing, no maiming. Everything fair game otherwise."

Rules were the same as usual: sparring match between her and Deneve. The loser has to submit to the victor's demand, no questions asked. Serrandyl wasn't sure why they established the rules in the first place. Maybe because Deneve wanted bragging rights. Dumb reason, but oh well. Whatever. Dumb reasons were fine.

"Okay," Serrandyl confirmed, happy with their standard rules. "Works."

"Great. Looking forward to kicking your butt," Deneve smirked, wriggling contentedly. "After the dragon-watching is over, obviously."

Serrandyl resisted the urge to swat her, settling for a lazy flick on the forehead instead. She returned her gaze toward the workshop window, lazily nibbling on her jerky.

Bjorn appeared bored, standing idle nearby, and Kelzryn still engaged Evelyne in that...whatever it was. Conversation, probably. Hard to tell, since Evelyne babbled nonstop, and Kelzryn nodded occasionally, speaking only intermittently.

Serrandyl sighed, her interest rapidly dwindling. This was taking forever, and waiting proved excruciatingly tedious. Sparring sounded really, really tempting right now.

Suddenly, Kelzryn and Evelyne stood, the former bidding a curt farewell and the latter reciprocating enthusiastically. Bjorn, relieved at the abrupt turn of events, hastily escorted their guest out of the workshop.

"Oh! They're done. Finally." Serrandyl perked her ears, thankful for the approaching promise of entertainment. "Looks like Kelzryn's leaving."

"Nice." Deneve stretched, unwinding her limbs. "Ready for a workout?"

"Definitely," Serrandyl rose, yawning lazily. Time to beat Deneve senseless, and savor her subsequent loss. Win-win. "Let's go."