Minerva put her claw down and exhaled before taking a step back. There were thirty-seven stone tablets in front of her, one for each page within the Trickster’s Book. It had been eight days since she told Tafel it would take a week, but to the phoenix’s surprise, the demon hadn’t returned yet. With how eager Tafel had been to receive the translation, Minerva couldn’t help but wonder what the demon was doing. However, she didn’t have to wonder for very long. A portal opened not too far away, and Tafel walked through along with Vur and an unknown companion.
“I’m back,” Tafel said and waved at the phoenix matriarch. “How is it? Are the translations done? Do you need me to stay away for a bit longer?”
Minerva snorted. “I’m doing fine, thanks for asking,” she said. “As for your book, I finished translating it yesterday.” Although she had only finished it within the last few minutes, she wasn’t going to admit that. Minerva’s gaze landed on Vur and the winged woman standing behind him. “Greetings, Vur. It’s been a while.” Her eyes narrowed at the Recordkeeper. “Who’s that lady behind you?”
“Hi, Minerva,” Vur said. He glanced at the Recordkeeper before turning his gaze back onto Minerva. “You don’t know her?”
“Should I know her?” Minerva asked and furrowed her brow. “Is she your mistress?” The phoenix glared at Tafel. “As a phoenix and as my child, how could you let your mate be unfaithful? Do you need me to turn her into ashes for you?”
Tafel’s face contorted. “She’s not Vur’s mistress,” she said and glanced at the Recordkeeper, who had a suspiciously red-tinged face. “She’s the Recordkeeper. Have you heard of her? For some reason, a lot of the dragons know her.”
Minerva’s expression darkened. “Oh, so it’s her,” she said and narrowed her eyes at the Recordkeeper. After glaring at the winged woman for a bit, Minerva turned her attention back onto Tafel. “Your translation’s ready. I suggest you don’t show them to this liar over here.”
Tafel raised an eyebrow, her gaze shifting between the two winged creatures. Was there bad blood between them? She went up to the tablets and put them inside of a portal while whispering to Minerva, “You don’t like her?”
“No self-respecting phoenix does,” Minerva said with a scowl, causing Tafel to tilt her head.
“I can still hear you,” the Recordkeeper said. “It isn’t my fault phoenixes are portrayed so poorly by history. If they didn’t want to be painted in a bad light, perhaps they shouldn’t have done bad things.”
“Phoenixes are portrayed poorly by history?” Tafel asked. “That’s not what I’ve heard.”
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“That’s because undying creatures are good at spreading propaganda,” the Recordkeeper said. “Historically speaking, phoenixes were quite underhanded when dealing with their opponents.”
“Like I said,” Minerva said. “She’s a liar. It’s better for you to have less interactions with her in the future.”
“I see,” Tafel said. From the demon’s expression, Minerva could tell Tafel was unconvinced. However, the phoenix had no intention of elaborating. Tafel cleared her throat and reached into the same portal she had stored the tablets in. She pulled out a large golden cloak. “I went to find Vur, and he was at an auction, and, well, I bought you this.”
Minerva raised an eyebrow and grabbed the cloak with her talon. She lifted it in front of herself and tilted her head. “I don’t have arms.”
“It’s alright,” Tafel said. “I had the seller modify the sleeves a bit. They should be wide enough to accommodate your wings.” She gestured towards the cloak. “It’s made of orichalcum threads. The Record—err, I found out phoenix’s can die permanently if their ashes are scattered before they’re reborn, so this should protect you from turning into ashes in the first place.”
Minerva blinked and squirmed her way into the robe. After a minute of struggling under the trio’s gazes, Minerva shook her body, letting the cloak settle into place. She spread her wings and inspected herself, twisting her body while angling her head downwards. “It feels a bit odd to don clothing, but it fits surprisingly well.”
Tafel smiled. “It looks good on you.”
Minerva puffed her chest out. “Of course,” she said. “There aren’t many things that can make a phoenix look bad.”
“I’m glad you like it,” Tafel said and pulled a tray of cookies out of her portal. “If the kids ask if I got them anything, you can give them these. We bought a few other things for Vur’s relatives, and some of them are perishable, so….”
Minerva nodded. “Go, go,” she said. “After a week of nonstop working, even someone like me needs a break.”
***
Mary stood with her arms crossed, watching the Dragon Slayers hustle and bustle. They were working together to transport heavy mechanical parts from inside a warehouse to a few large wagons. Although they could’ve hired people to help them, they insisted on doing the grunt work by themselves. Mary suspected they were afraid someone would figure out the secret to the mechanical parts; after all, they claimed these were all necessary to slay a dragon. After what seemed like hours, the Dragon Slayers stood in front of six loaded wagons, each one having their contents covered by a large tarp.
“Are you done?” Mary asked. “With this, we’re ready to hunt a dragon?”
“No,” Joseph said and shook his head. “This is just one ballista. We used four of them to restrain the dragons we killed.” He wiped the sweat off his forehead upon seeing Mary’s darkening expression. “At the very least, we need two to restrain a dragon. One to shoot their wing, and another to shoot their wing again in case something happens to the first shot. Ideally, we’d have seven ballistae, five for the dragon’s limbs and two for its wings.”
“How long will it take to assemble seven ballistae with just the six of you?” Mary asked.
“It’ll be a while,” Joseph said. “But hunting a dragon requires patience. Without the proper preparations, all you’ll be doing is rushing to your death.”
Mary grunted, making a noncommittal sound. “Take as much time as you need,” she said. Her eyes narrowed. “But if I find out you’re using this time for something else, don’t blame me for being ruthless.”