Tristan got out of the tub once the water became cool – which did not really bother him, thanks to his lineage; it was tepid, despite surely being much colder. After drying off, he put on the loose pants and shirt left alongside the towel, before repeating his Disguise Form spell to re-establish his half-elf appearance. Getting out of the restroom, he nodded to the two servants.

One of them opened the door and departed. The other, a young woman wearing perfectly maintained black and crimson slip of a dress bowed at the waist. “Lord Anorox, would you like food or drink?”

“I am sated, thank you,” Tristan replied. And he was not hungry or thirsty in the slightest, as his morning dose of clearcool elixir had fully satisfied those needs. “I know Archon Grimtome wished to speak to me.”

“My compatriot has gone to get hi-”

The door opened and the Archon entered the room. “Servants. Out.” The woman bowed and hurried out before shutting the door. Grimtome looked Tristan up and down. “Tristan Anorox. We have items to discuss.”

Tristan sat on one of the sumptuous couches, gesturing to the one opposite, “Yes, we do.”

Once both were sitting, Grimtome produced a long, wooden pipe from his pocket, poured some wood chips into the end, and used a small twig from the firewood stack next to the fireplace to light it. Taking in a puff, he looked at Tristan. “First…condolences about your mother. The king had me verify your claims, and The Black Company stationed at your family estate were reprimanded for their lack of ability to guard the place.”

“Why were they there in the first place?” Tristan asked. “My father had mercenary friends-”

Grimtome waved that question away as he did the smoke slowly billowing up. “Your father and grandfather are off hunting dragons pestering the farthest reaches of the kingdom. I checked with our keeper of records; your father hired The Black Company to guard the estate. They were not involved with the assassination of your mother, or the servants. Speaking of, though…where is your mother’s corpse?”

“I…I buried her,” Tristan whispered.

Grimtome nodded, “I do not blame you. And I hail you for your caution. How old are you?”

“Eighteen years of age,” Tristan said as he found his voice again.

“Young indeed. But wise. I am fifty-seven, and I doubt I would have had your foresight at your age. I commend you, indeed.” He took another puff and offered the smokeable to Tristan, which he declined. “Assassins are never good news. They were after your mother, quite obviously, and the household was either in the way or meant to send a message. After seeing your fight with the assassin…I believe they were after you as well. Archon Matteo Farsight was sadly a casualty that seemed to have been…collateral damage, as the military tacticians call it.”

Tristan could tell the man was holding something back, but did not press. Instead, Tristan nodded and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I was unable to learn much about the assassins, sadly.”

“Mmm,” the Archon mumbled as he puffed his pipe.

Tristan tented his hands, “Someone also cleared out the family vault. I know from a neighbor I spoke to – Mr. Perry – that my family effectively vacated the estate in favor of the townhouse in Highreach. Only my mother and the servants remained behind.”

Grimtome sat back on the couch and stared hard at Tristan, blowing a smoke ring towards him that he waved away. “Drop the illusion.”

“Beg your par-”

“The smoke ring, it passed through your hand. Just slightly. Enough for me to tell something is off. Who are you, really?”

Well, no point in hiding it. Tristan let the illusion fade. “I am Tristan Anorox.”

“Good…full transparency; I used a spell before coming in here. I will be alerted to any lies…I recall seeing you at court before, though, and your illusory guise was how you used to appear. How…how are you a full Elf?”

“Do you want the long story or the short one?”

“The long one, please. We have time.”

Tristan made sure to choose his words carefully, since Grimtome had shown his hand regarding some type of lie-detecting spell. “I chased a fairy dragon across the kingdom. When I finally got her inside a cage, she transported herself to the Fey Realm. I went along with her…I assume since I was close by. Once I got there, I was…infused with the realm’s latent essence.”

“Ah, it formed an essence crucible.”

“Right. So, I went looking for answers and found a big tree. There were carvings and inscriptions. Elves originated in the Fey Realm-”

“I had heard stories of that.”

“-Right. Well, I found a way to get back and brought a fairy dragon corpse with me. I promise, I’m still a half-elf…but my Elven side is so pronounced-”

“You might as well be a full one. Or practically are, to be more precise. May as well embrace it. You’re a full-blooded Elf…for which I am truly sorry, given the locale.” Grimtome tapped down more wood chips into his pipe. “Well, lucky for you, I am not as anti-non-Human as many others here.” He took another puff from the pipe.

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“So…what now?” Tristan asked.

Grimtome leaned forward and sighed as he put a palm on his forehead. “Keep your disguise active whilst in the capital. If someone claims to see through it, simply get away from the situation.”

He looked up and his mismatched eyes seemed to glimmer with an insight of some large, grand situation that was unfolding Tristan was fully unaware of. “Be careful as well. It is in the crown’s best interest to ensure that its nobles are not assassinated. Your mother, despite being a full-blooded elf and looked down upon by many in this city, was still married into a noble house. And your family name, whilst small and not long-lived, is prominent.” He lowered his voice as he looked into the fire, “Especially with more dragons showing up.”

“I heard about a few.”

“Two, and your family is already addressing it with some soldiers. Your family and their…unique training have proven a boon.” He turned to Tristan, “I know that the crown sent you on a seemingly petty quest, chasing down a fairy dragon, and for that I apologize. You know how it is with half-breeds.”

“I do,” Tristan replied tersely as he stared into the flames.

“I would ask that you continue your investigation into these assassins and who hired the assassins. Having nobles die under the crown’s watch is never good.”

“I had some leads.”

“Allow me to guess. The culprits are your direct family. It could be your father, as divorce requires circumstances, and your grandfather would never allow that – by all reports he is as honorable and noble as they come. Hence, your father may have hired them to slay his wife so he could re-marry a Human.”

This Archon is very smart, Tristan thought. And I bet he knows a lot about all the nobles, high or low rank.

“The half-brother I doubt as the responsible party. He up and vanished last I heard, after some quarrel with Fawkes.”

Tristan grimaced at hearing his father’s name but responded with what he had learned. “Bertram joined the Pathfinders.”

“Well, I cannot fault the young man for going out to make his mark on the world. Which leads us to your grandfather…he is full of honor. I doubt it was him.”

“He was like a father to me once my mother’s side manifested.”

Grimtome looked at Tristan with sharp, piercing eyes that seemingly bore a hole into his soul. “The half-sister…she does have standing to gain if all the family save her died. Without a widow to inherit the estate and wealth from your father, and if you plus the brother were out of the way – she gets it all incorporated under her new lineage. She has become quite the fixture at court since marrying into the Damadan high noble family.”

Tristan sighed and nodded, “I figured as much. Well, she should not be in the family’s townhouse since she married. I will make that my residence for now.”

Grimtome nodded, “I will make sure some proper soldiers sworn to the crown protect the environs. To recap; stay disguised, find out which person hired the assassins, and be prepared to be called upon by the king. If another dragon attacks, he will doubtless want to draw on you as a resource. Especially as you’re the only dragonslayer left near the capital. Don’t leave the city.”

Tristan stood up and nodded, “Understood. I’ll make sure to keep myself in or around the city. If my investigation would take me abroad, I will inform you directly.”

“Good.” Grimtome stood up, held out his arm, and shook Tristan’s. He poured the wood chips from his pipe into the fire. “Now, re-do your illusion spell. Oh…and the woman helping poor Archon Farsight, who saw your full Elvish form…I will ensure her recollections are kept silent. Can’t have one of our four kingdom’s dragonslayers completely shamed, eh?”

Tristan nodded and spun his essence crucible, feeling the cool, refreshing feeling through his body. “Naamioi muotoni niin, että näytän joltakin, mitä en ole.” (Disguise my form so that I appear as something I am not). He envisioned his usual, pre-full-Elf conversion as he passed his palm over his face in the small, circular, scrubbing motion.

The Archon clapped his hands together, “Excellent. Well, I wish you the best, Tristan. Oh, do feel free to make an appointment to talk if you desire. I am a busy man, but for someone as interesting as you…I can make some time. Just ask a servant for directions to my office.”

He handed Tristan an emblem that he recognized; a black crown that would socket on top of his noble seal and grant him unrestricted access to most areas of the Blackspire. The king’s favor. “Thank you…but why am I interesting to you?”

“A full-blooded Elf and one of the relatively new Dragonslayer bloodline? I am curious to see how you develop. That is a First Order spell you used, I would guess. Correct?”

“That’s right. An illusion spell called Disguise Form.”

“Well…let us just say, from an experienced essence-weaver to a fledgling one; any time we can help another user develop their talents, it is reason to take special notice and observe. Goodnight, Tristan.” The man left the room, and Tristan walked to the door, locked it, and then went to the servant’s door and locked that, too.

Going to the bathroom window, he made sure it and the door were both open, before he crawled into bed and let himself surrender to sleep.

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Tristan felt soft paws on his face, prodding at his cheek. Slowly opening his eyes, he saw Felicity in her fairy dragon form, curled up on a pillow, nudging at his face. Her eyes were shut, and it appeared that she was sleeping and whatever dream she was having involved her running. Sitting up, Tristan looked around the room. The sun was just starting to filter in through the windows above the bed.

Putting his feet down, he pulled them back as he felt something pointed. Looking down, he saw a bunch of bits of jewelry. Oh, she was busy. He reached down and grabbed one of the broaches, inspecting it.

Felicity roused from her slumber and raised her head. “Morning.” She yawned before smacking her lips a few times and putting her head back down. “I did mischief.”

“I saw,” Tristan replied as he held up the broach.

“Oh…that’s just a little bit.” She waved her paw, and the extradimensional space opened up next to her. Tristan saw a small pile of gold. Easily a few hundred coins.

“I told you not to take a lot!”

“It wasn’t a lot. I went to the farthest corner of the vault and got a little bit from a few different chests.” She giggled, “Then…this is the fun part. All that art I talked about seeing last time? I peed on all of it.” She cackled as her paws bounced up and down, pushing into the pillows.

“Gross,” Tristan replied as he grabbed all the sharp gold bits off the ground and threw them into the extradimensional space.

“Did you like my caltrop surprise?” she asked coyly.

“Not particularly,” Tristan replied as he dressed in some clothes appropriate to his station. Repeating the Disguise Self spell, he re-donned his half-elf appearance with the new clothing included. “Ready to go?”

Felicity stretched like a cat, extending her forelegs out before flapping into the air. “Yeah. Going invisible, closing the storage space…I thought you’d be happier at my antics.”

“It’s morning. I’m not a morning person.”

“Oh, I also carved a message into the paintings. Making sure they know a fairy dragon did it.”

Tristan winced but nodded, “I did ask you to do that, didn’t I,” he muttered. “Wish I had waited to give you direction until after I spoke with the Archon.”

“Oh, did he have anything good to say?”

Tristan left the room, ensuring that his noble crest with the new black-crown attachment was prominently displayed. Keeping his voice hushed, he filled Felicity in on the conversation as he left the fortress.