The days that followed the ritual blurred together from one to the next. Now without a central project, Kinsoriel and the others who worked on the altar aided the pool of laborers. Their addition was enough to push the meager settlement into a greater classification. By the third week, all the essential structures in the initial area had been completed. Some had begun to expand beyond the walls and started developing the surrounding area as well.

One of the first things he did was personal; he rebuilt his tower, bigger and better. It brought him great satisfaction to see it standing tall once again. He had to change the design to include a ground entrance for those who couldn’t fly, but it was otherwise the same shape as before.

Between working on additions to the town, Kinsoriel made sure to check on the welfare of his subjects. Very few had complaints to levy, even the deathbounds. If anything, they were always excited to see him, giving their adoration freely. He took no action to stop them. This was the natural order reasserting itself, and it felt right. They should venerate him.

What he didn’t anticipate was a similar reaction from his peers. They gave him praise on a level he’d never been given before by any other dragons. It was different from being respected as an elder or an expert spellcrafter. Even those such as Iretung seemed to regard him differently, acting subservient in his presence. Something about it made him feel deeply uncomfortable, but he couldn’t pin it down.

That led to where he was now, sitting within the top floor of his tower, looking down on the city. Dots big and small milling about on their various tasks, together. He frowned. There was still plenty to be done, he knew that. That in itself wasn’t enough to rouse him out of his lethargy. He wished to shake himself out of this odd mood and join those below. With a sigh, he tried thinking of something for him to do.

He could help carve out cliffside dwellings for the draconic population. This didn’t take long to be dismissed. None of his kind would accept a handout like that, nor should they. The Canon dictated that all dragons be able to stand alone. Even if they had all become far more communal recently, they would still insist on taking care of their living spaces themselves. Kinsoriel couldn’t fault them. He felt the same when it came to his tower.

Scratching at the scales on his chin, he thought about taking a flight. He could stretch his wings and go out for a hunt. A growing place like this always had a use for more food. He looked up from the city to the sky with an inkling of want, lingering for a moment. With a click of his tongue, he went back to looking at the city. Such a task wasn’t for someone in his position. What if he were needed in his brief absence? He couldn’t deprive his people of a leader simply for a simple pleasure like that, no matter the length of time.

His eyes wandered over to the plot of land that would soon be the grand library. That was one of the bigger undertakings they had on the horizon. Kinsoriel’s eyes lit up as he remembered something.

“Attendants,” he called further down into his tower. A small group of mortals entered his bedroom, each clad in a black uniform that identified them as part of his retinue. They were mostly humans, but there were a few elves and a singular dwarf as well. Many of them were on the younger end, being the children or nephews of those who were invited by Wex. Their service was an obvious attempt at securing favor for their relatives. In truth, he didn’t mind. The champion of Wex didn’t play favorites.

“One of you, bring me Benjamin. I wish to talk with him.”

They all respectfully took their leave but he could hear them clatter down the stairs fervently. He smirked at their eagerness to please him. Stretching out over the massive cushion he’d fashioned, he waited for his most trusted servant.

Little under half an hour later, he could hear two pairs of footsteps coming up. “So many, stupid, stairs,” he barely heard from the familiar voice. Up and from the stairway came a disheveled Benjamin, accompanied by an elf who looked much the opposite.

“I’ve brought him as requested, Master Kinsoriel.” The elf attendant gestured to the human as though he was presenting a treasure.

“Thank you, Erwyn.” With a hand, he waved him off. “Leave us be.”

Erwyn nodded and did as ordered, descending the stairs followed by other attendants. Now alone with his first student, Kinsoriel grinned down at him.

“Good afternoon Benjamin. How is my overseer doing today?”

The little author had an expression that defied any illusion that he was amused. “Working hard. I was just in the middle of sectioning off an area for a training ground. That was of course before I got pulled here.”

Tilting his large head, the dragon noticed that he didn’t continue after that. “It seems you didn’t understand my question. I asked how you are doing, not what you are doing.”

“That’s not important.” Rubbing the sides of his head, Benjamin asked, “If you wouldn’t mind, could you just tell me what you need me to do?”

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Grin shrinking back into a neutral look, Kinsoriel huffed. “Very well, we can dispense with the pleasantries. I wanted to go over the plans for the library. They looked interesting last time I saw them, but it wasn’t long enough to get a solid impression.”

After a moment of thought, Benjamin opened up Pocket and pulled out a large scroll. He was directed toward a table so that they could go over it together. Once realizing the table was scaled to himself and not the man, Kinsoriel plucked him up and placed him on top. Nodding, Benjamin unfurled the parchment.

“Alright. I’m thinking we go with a three-floored design.” He leaned over and pointed at various areas using a thin stream of raw mana. “We’ll have the first two be easily accessible for dragons with double-sized dimensions. The third can be for storage, maintenance, and a neat little reading space for smaller residents. We’ll support it all with arches, columns, and buttresses.”

“I can see it now. Marvelous!” This earned the overseer a pat on the head approvingly. “And I must say, while I’ve seen similar elements in other human architecture, this stands out.” He tapped a finger along the diagram of the internal structure. “How did you come up with this?”

Benjamin let out a heavy breath as he looked back at the diagram. “I didn’t. I copied the look from a place I frequented before all this.”

A moment of silence broke out awkwardly between the two before Kinsoriel let out a fake cough. “Yes, well, originality doesn’t matter here. It is still a good look and will be a splendid addition to the Lunar Glade. Mmm… perhaps you could adorn it with Wex’s emblem as well?”

“Sure. Yeah. I can do that”

Benjamin took out a thin piece of charcoal and made note of the request, marking spots where the emblem could go. It occurred to the dragon that there wasn’t anything else to discuss. The plans were solid and he didn’t have any other meaningful input.

“This was faster than I anticipated. Since you are already here,” he said, folding his claws, “perhaps I could be convinced to give you some refresher lessons. We wouldn’t want your spellcraft to decay, after all.”

Rolling up the scroll, Benjamin returned it to his Pocket and hopped down from the table. “Thanks, but I have work to get back to. Don’t worry, I’m not getting rusty. I use magic just about every day. Like you said, I have the tools now, so I should be able to stand on my own.”

“I suppose I did say that,” Kinsoriel muttered. “But, there is still much to learn. It would make such work far easier.”

His pupil glanced back briefly before resuming his departure. “Maybe some other time then. If you need me, you can always call for me again.” With that, he disappeared behind the stonework of the stairway and Kinsoriel was left by himself.

He could feel his wings droop a bit as he went back to staring out the window once again. Why had he offered to engage in more magic lessons? Benjamin was right to bring up his prior words; there was nothing left he could teach the man. It would just be a waste of time that could be better spent elsewhere.

Heat permeated the back of his head as he saw Benjamin walk out of his tower. It seemed even his crazed mortal would be treating him differently now. Letting out a small flicker of fire with a heavy breath, he laid himself down on the cushion.

He wondered if he should just sleep early or ask Wex what to do when he heard someone coming up. It surely wasn’t one of his attendants if they wanted to keep their positions. Who else could it be?

A small dull grey head popped up followed by a pair of wings. “Archangel Moira,” he greeted the fallen divine sarcastically, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

As she made it up the last few steps, she gave a prayerful salute with her wing arms. “Forgive my intrusion, champion of Wex. I was in the area when I overheard the conversation between you and Benjamin.”

Kinsoriel chuckled. “Finally realized he isn’t your god?”

“The situation between me and m’lord is… complicated.”

A look of confusion sprawled across his muzzle as he picked up on something she had said. “Wait. How could you have overheard our conversation? We were both up here the entire time.”

She waved it off with a clawed hand. “I follow him around and I have good hearing,” she said nonchalantly.

Having experienced true divinity only made her behavior all the stranger. Kinsoriel massaged his brow ridge with a groan. “Why have you come to me then? What do you want?”

Smiling, she opened up all four of her arms in an open gesture. “I can tell you have a need that isn’t being met. I may have a solution.”

The dragon’s first instinct was to challenge the statement, but he held himself back. There was definitely something getting to him, and he couldn’t tell what it was. What did he have to lose in letting her say her piece? “Carry on.”

“I heard how eager you were to teach Benjamin some more magic and thought to myself, ‘What if you opened a spellcraft academy?’ There would be no teacher greater than one with limitless mana after all. You would help all those here become a force to be reckoned with, and scratch that itch.”

Kinsoriel fixed her with an appraising glance while tapping a claw against the floor. The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. He’d simply grown to enjoy teaching and missed it. There was nothing more to his lethargy than that. A smirk crept along his face.

“My, that is a marvelous proposition. I’m sure Wex would welcome such a bright mind into his own if you should ask him.”

The kobold angel shook her head. “While I would be honored, I already have a master of my own. But,” she said as she put a hand underneath her chin, “perhaps you would be willing to grant me a small favor in exchange for this.”

His fiery eyes narrowed. “Perhaps I would, but it depends on what you ask of me. I will not accept or deny it until I know.”

Nodding along, she replied, “I figured, but I was just seeing if you would be receptive.” She gazed back into his eyes seriously. “Wex knows all that is known and more. I would want you to ask him a question and tell me what he answers. That’s all. Would you consider it?”

That made sense to him. He was the only one with a direct way to communicate with the deity. He could be punished if he was made to ask something moronic, but that was an acceptable risk. “Provided the academy helps as you have suggested, I would grant this request.”

“You have my thanks, Son of Ortremel.”

As she turned to leave his chambers, he looked back at the town through his window. A newfound excitement beat through his chest, one that observing wouldn’t quell. He exited his bedroom and went to the roof, already thinking of where he would build his lecture hall.