On the start of their third month of training, and her second month of filling in regularly to maintain Admiral Leonteinparre’s lair, Mistress Seraphinite called Agadart in for a personal interview.
She met Agadart at the door of her trim, colorful little cabin and politely ushered her inside. The small front room served as the Mistress’s office, a spare and efficient space with one desk and two simple wooden chairs. She gestured for Agadart to take one of the chairs, then followed suit. They sat, silently looking at each other for a few moments, a game Agadart knew well from her jousts with high-society matriarchs.
The headmistress was about fifteen years older than Agadart, her countenance grim and her gaze unforgiving, but when it became clear that Agadart was intending to wait her out, she started talking. “You know the old wives’ tale, that dragons can smell purity?”
It was definitely not included in the dragon maid apprentices’ curriculum, but it was a common belief throughout Kaaltendt, so Agadart nodded as expected of her.
“It’s a lie. No matter their gender, they can no more smell purity than I can. More so, they do not care.” Mistress Seraphinite settled back into her chair. Agadart took care not to mirror the movement, holding herself stiff and upright in posture. “But what they do notice is character. Breeding, I mean, and manners.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“It’s why the admiral has noticed you.” The words dropped like bombs on Agadart, nearly stealing her breath away. She thought of just running out of the cabin for one panicked moment, knowing that there was no way this could end well for her, but she managed by dint of years of practice to hold her countenance neutral. Instead of fleeing she simply tilted her head as indication that she was still listening.
Mistress Seraphinite grimaced anyway. “I do not mean this as rank flattery. It is explanation of why you have been singled out. We get enough fallen scullery maids and cobblers’ widows, who are hardworking but ignorant. They have their place. Let me be clear, Maid Aegirine: the society of dragons is no less convoluted and filled with intrigue than the Queen’s Court.” She watched Agadart closely for a reaction.
“I am familiar with that particular beast,” Agadart offered, trying to keep her voice neutral.
“I know. The former Baron Stewardt played a dangerous game, and you came out of it with a clean hide, regardless. That impresses me. Many a spouse would have lost their head not long after he lost his.”
It was a brutal summary of some of the worst years of Agadart’s life, but it was true nonetheless. She nodded again.
“Your skills are not suited to the hard labor of husbandry or even general aerie management. Your comport and intelligence will serve you well in close quarters with dragons, who will sense your character and thus allow you access to them.”
“I do not understand, Headmistress.” Agadart struggled to keep her voice neutral. The seriousness of Mistress Seraphinite’s behavior suggested that all of her compliments were not necessarily a precursor to good news.
The headmistress leaned back in her chair, but it was not a casual move. “Dr. Worthan is a leading dragon physician from the Isle of Watt. He has been called to Endestern by the express wishes of the admiral, our Duke Raudolf.”
“The Master of the Fort called for a physician?”
Seraphinite nodded. “Yes. Fear not, he is strong and full of vitality, as are all the dragons of Endestern. However, as things stand, having a respected draconic physician here might save lives. As I am sure you are aware, Duke Raudolf is one of the Treaty Dragons from the Five Clans of Watt. Dr. Worthan is a leading physician for the noble dragons, and the admiral feels that his presence is necessary.”
“In case of war,” Agadart amended.
Seraphinite tipped her head but did not voice agreement. “The admiral has informed me that due to the Isle of Watt’s own preparations for invasion, Dr. Worthan is traveling without his staff. He is coming here alone.”
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Agadart folded her hands in her lap. “You know that I have no medical background, much less knowledge of dragon physique outside of what has been taught to me as a dragon maid. If you intend to conscript me to Dr. Worthan, I feel honor bound to tell you that I probably will not be much help to him.”
Mistress Seraphinite sat up straight again, her expression pinched in disapproval. “That is for him to decide. The admiral asked me for a dragon maid to serve as the doctor’s assistant, and given that such a maid would be in close contact with not only the officers of the fort but the admiral himself and his consort, I feel you are the best choice.” Seraphinite looked out the tiny window at the misty hills ranging in the distance. “I could hardly send Maid Limonite, or even Maid Epidote. There are twenty dragons in that fort, one of whom is a foreign-born nobleman, and they have already sniffed out the quality of the maids we send up there. To have anything less than a well-born woman in direct attendance to nobility would reflect poorly on us all.”
“I hoped that in the Corps I would escape such classifications,” Agadart pointed out.
Seraphinite’s expression turned even colder. “Don’t we all, Maid Aegirine? And yet, our pasts will always haunt us. I suggest you take this position as the boon it is, rather than risk your future with the Corps over something as inescapable as your history.”
Agadart knew a dismissal when she heard it. Nodding her acquiescence, she left the cabin and joined her fellows in preparing dinner. She considered the fact that if Queen Theaedra had sent her into the Corps to disappear, this new assignment would likely not meet that goal. It was an unsettling thought but she knew better than most that politics and alliances could change on the twitch of a dragon’s tail, and that once again she was nothing more than a pawn on the board.
Nothing changed too much for her over the week, although she was given extra readings to prepare her for assisting a draconic physician. It was made clear to her that once Doctor Worthan arrived, she would be sent up to the fort to remain there for the rest of her training or until she was dismissed from the Corps. There was some jealousy from a few maids, but most actually were relieved not to be put in the spot of answering directly to the admiral, who had quickly developed a reputation at the fort for being a strict and hard taskmaster. However there were no unhappy murmurings of unfairness from the soldiers, draconic or human, under his command so Agadart took it as a good sign. She hoped that keeping her head down and doing her job would be enough for her to pass muster with both Mistress Seraphinite and the doctor.
Dr. Worthan arrived by boat directly from the Isle of Watt, midweek and on the tail of a dark, festering storm. Everyone knew when new ships appeared in the harbor, so Agadart had a day to prepare herself mentally for the man who was going to be her own lord and master for the foreseeable future.
After the carriage carrying him zipped by the training camp, Mistress Seraphinite herself oversaw Agadart packing her duffel and walked with her up the mountain to the fort. They were expected and taken to the main tower, where Agadart had not as yet been allowed access. The boy guiding them was quiet and proper as he led them upstairs and through short halls to what was, Agadart assumed, the officers’ lounge. It was more like a gentleman’s library, packed with shelves of books and comfortable chairs, which was not so different from the one in her father’s house. This one, however, was full of people. Agadart clutched at her bag as Mistress Seraphinite walked comfortably in and bowed at the admiral.
Agadart had not seen him in his walking form since the brief sighting at the train platform, months ago. He was even more handsome up close, his face lean and sculpted with the bone structure of a well-bred nobleman. He was a little more rugged than polished, with an afternoon shadow darkening his jaw and a tired look in his eyes, but he smiled kindly at Mistress Seraphinite.
“Thank you for coming in person, Headmistress. Milles, allow me to introduce Mistress Seraphinite of the Dragon Corps, headmistress of the training camp you passed on your way up. Mistress Seraphinite, Dr. Milles Worthan.”
Mistress Seraphinite bowed again while Dr. Worthan bowed back at her respectfully. He was an older man, short and stout, with a barely trimmed white beard and a delicate set of eyeglasses resting low on his nose.
“I brought up the dragon maid assigned to assist the good doctor, Your Grace. Maid Aegirine,” Seraphinite said, waving Agadart forward.
Dropping her bag, Agadart stepped up and bowed to both the admiral and the doctor, who each bowed solemnly in turn.
“Thank you for volunteering, Maid Aegirine. Do you have any medical training?” Dr. Worthan asked, leaning in toward her, studying her carefully.
“No sir, but Mistress Seraphinite has been providing me with advanced texts in an effort to educate me on the matter.”
Dr. Worthan nodded, something about Agadart’s answer or bearing giving him satisfaction as to her usefulness. Next to him, Admiral Leonteinparre frowned and wrinkled his nose, apparently trying to figure something out. For a moment, no one moved, waiting for his lead, but he shook his head as if clearing his mind and smiled at her again.
“Mistress Seraphinite recommended you, so I’m sure your services will suffice. Mirrel, please escort Maid Aegirine to her new quarters.” The duke motioned at a sergeant who was standing stiffly by the door. Agadart picked up her bag and quickly shuffled out of the room, deciding that she had at least passed the first hurdle. She hoped there would not be too many more.