Lipei, Mistress of the House of the Sapphire Dragon, was pleased. Not that you could tell by looking at her. Her painted face betrayed no emotion, as befitting of her class and station. She took small measured steps through the bustle of New Draconis, her entourage in tow. Her entourage! It was a dream come true. To some level at least. A borrowed entourage is still an entourage, and even if it is only one follower…

Not important. The important thing now was to be seen, to be recognized as a dragon important enough to have a servant assist her. And only behind her unchanging face would she admit how helpful Muansipab was. Every errand of the day seemed to have him stepping in and renegotiating a deal she’d be living with for weeks. Her budget had been stretched tighter than necessary, and with the savings he had arranged, this week's expenditures would pay for itself in due time, and she still had several payments left to go.

It was almost worth the gem the spell had consumed. Almost. Once she had a replacement for it in her claws, then she would be satisfied.

The streets of Clawridge Peak certainly felt dingier than Southwing, the district she called home. There was something off-putting about so many tohledi apartments. The Matron’s efforts were commendable, but there was something in the spellformed walls that lined the district that belied their hand-me-down origin.

Perhaps. She mused. It’s simply because we’re walking instead of just flying over. Being on the ground changed one's perspective, and not for the better. Flying is better, but if an entourage is rare, a flying entourage is rarer still.

Ironic, that Jydrenth would have such loyal and valuable katima, when he was a hermit and recluse, while she could find no one willing to enter a bond, and such creatures were all she dreamed of.

The hoard is always bigger in another dragon’s lair, she thought, remembering the words of Old Ankin. The toothless metallic was always spouting off bits of wisdom, normally some sort of colloquial folly. But sometimes, his words would echo in her head, repeating advice that was certainly easy to see the glint of value in retrospect.

She’d send him a trinket tomorrow, she decided. It was always good to remember those who put up with you as a hatchling, and to make sure they thought well of you. And he certainly deserved more respect than he usually received.

--

The walk through the city was nearing its conclusion by this point, the entrance of the Observatory drawing nearer with each dainty step. The wooden doors were formidable, but plain. It would be easy to dismiss a dragon lairing here as a lesser beast. But every dragon has treasure, claw, and flame, and if you didn’t know where they hid, you were the fool.

Another of Old Ankin’s sayings.

There was a moment of awkwardness, as her servant knocked on the gate and waited, only to sheepishly unlock it himself and bid her inside. His usual job as porter had been abandoned to escort her around the city for the day, as part of payment for favors exchanged. As usual, the sudden quiet of Jydrenth’s estate caused her metaphorical ridgespines to rise, before she overrode her instincts. Jydrenth liked his quiet, and had spent a part of his duil cast to make sure that the bustle of the city was but a distant hum.

The tower itself was stone, sized well enough for dragonkind on this side. The back was intended for that katima, and had more comfortable proportions for their kind. The tiny Muansipab had a bit of trouble opening the large door that led to the main hall. Here, the everpresent stone was covered with mats of woven grass, and the many floors of the tower were open in the center, whether for the large headroom or the option for a dragon to quickly climb the spiraling stone balconies, she wasn’t quite sure. The room was lit by warm mitne, a common magical effect but certainly effective. Especially as the light orbs were dimmer on subsequent floors, giving the tower the slight sense of the night sky, even while fully lit.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“If you wait here a moment, mistress, I’ll see about announcing you.” The halfling’s tongue wasn’t quite made for Xanalre, giving it an odd pronunciation, but Lipei allowed it to pass. With a regal nod, she allowed the man to scurry to the rooms at the back to alert the master of her presence.

She did not have long to wait. The panel slid open again mere moments after it had closed and Jydrenth strode through in his human guise. Her flame dampened a little inside as she saw him. He looked better, that was without a doubt, but while the wounds were no longer freely flowing with blood, they had not faded entirely. His face was marred with the scars that claws had raked across his soul, and he would bear the marks for a long time, if not forever. Until his pride could give up the wounds, the scars would remain. Such was the way with dragons.

“And this here is the main hall,” Jydrenth announced to the woman Lipei could now see trailing along behind him. Lipei ignored what he claimed the room was for while she studied the elf. The body was familiar. She had made it herself at great expense and with a craftsman’s pride, she saw there was no sign of the wounds that had rendered the tohledi woman to a state beyond regular healing. There was no sign of awkwardness in her movements, nor confusion beyond a soul taken to a new world. In short, Lipei had done her job perfectly.

“Is it above the honor of this house to greet a guest to whom such a grand debt is owed?” The sillibant words rang out, mockingly in Xanalre. The elf woman reacted quickly. Very quickly, taking a step forward as if to protect her host. Interesting. The lady’s blue eyes showed no signs of understanding the language of dragons.

“My apologies, Mistress Lipei. It seems my doorman was not here to properly announce you. I’ll have to speak with him about that.” The riposte came quickly, which cheered her. The last week he had been moping around, too caught up in his own chagrin to properly respond to a good verbal fencing.

“Trade tongue?” she replied incredulously, still in Xanalre. “Do you not feel enough pride to speak in the language of your people?” He winced and Lipei knew she had pushed it too far. He still felt the shame, at his foolishness, his weakness, and his blind eyes. Her wit had scored, usually a joyous occasion on the only equal opponent among their clutch, but now, guilt was her only reward.

Instinct of her appearance took over and a fan appeared as if from nowhere, shielding her face as she spoke in Tradetongue.

“This is the girl, then. Are there any complaints? Body and soul have joined as expected?”

Jydrenth gave the girl a nudge and, nervously, she stepped forward and gave a bow. It was an improper height for a dragon of her dataion, any dragon really, but it was obvious the woman had no training in the courtesies of court. What the bow was, surprisingly, was genuine.

“Miss Lipei, I thank you for the service you’ve done. I don’t really understand all that you did, but it sounds like a lot and I am in your debt.”

The fan snapped shut and lashed out and Lipei was pleased to see her blow was dodged. It wouldn’t have hurt beyond the moment and was a simple tool to ensure an errant student was paying full attention.

“Hmph. I see your reflexes have adjusted fine. Have this fool teach you some of his meditative dances, that will keep those sharp. And remember, you owe me no debt. He owes me, and you owe him, but between us, there is no connection. Consider this your first lesson in natorki. All debts are separate, and must be repaid as arranged.”

The fan snapped open again.

“Now, unless my senses deceive me, I smell a meal that is part of the payment.”