Virudaax the Learned was a well-respected dragon.

That’s not to say that all dragons weren’t well-respected. They were. Dragons were big. They had claws, teeth, wings and the ability to roast food without needing to impose upon somebody else’s kitchen.

That meant they warranted a certain kind of respect.

The type that involved anything unfortunate enough to be born with only two legs running away while shrieking at the top of their lungs, often while tripping up whoever was nearest to them.

Virudaax never understood why they did that.

Dragons were noble creatures. And while that didn’t mean they wouldn’t eat those running away from them, it did mean they possessed a certain standard regarding which of those running away they ate. And somebody still running away was far more palatable than somebody now covered in mud and wet stuff on the ground.

Not that Virudaax had ever eaten anyone fleeing from him.

Mostly because he never had the chance.

He was a different dragon. And so was the respect afforded to him.

Unlike his peers, people didn’t flee from him.

Far from it, they went towards him, often with armfuls of books while hoping to receive an equivalent number of books in return.

Virudaax the Learned was the curator of the Hidden Library.

Even before the Queensholme Accords were inked, he eschewed the burning, looting and cackling those around him enjoyed as afternoon hobbies. He was a scholar and a student before he was a dragon.

And what he taught and learned were the mysteries of all things.

The meaning of life. The workings of magic. The origins of the world. And the reason halflings grew tiny amounts of hair behind their ears, despite it serving no practical purpose.

As a result, Virudaax knew many things.

Not as much as he wished. But more than all the living sages in Ouzelia combined.

He was a library unto himself, his ancient mind a constant vortex of knowledge. Of theories. Of contradictions. Of possibilities.

Except now.

Now, Virudaax was experiencing a sensation he hadn’t felt for a very long time.

He wasn’t thinking at all.

Instead, he was blinking at the figure of a tiny human princess as she strolled through his [Empowered Nether Gate] … having first tried and failed to encourage her horse to enter first.

Indeed … for the first time in at least two centuries, maybe three centuries, Virudaax the Learned was stumped.

He’d met princesses in his time, of course. Daughters of tyrants and beggars, and those destined to become tyrants and beggars in turn.

He’d known their pull towards him, for dragons were made of stories as much as blood, and few things littered the pages of fairy tales more than the fate of princesses.

Frankly, he’d thought them overrated.

But this one … this one was enough to pique his interest.

And the interest of a dragon was rarer than the treasure they guarded.

Fleur’s unfortunate, if well-intended idea to fundraise for the library through inciting a pillaging spree across the continent was always doomed to fail. Nothing could shackle a dragon. Not even desire. The lust for gold could never overcome the call for freedom spun by the gulls who shared the same sky.

Given just a few years, he was certain he’d have blinked awake, none the worse for wear other than the gold and jewels weighing him down.

Instead, he’d been practically shaken back into the world … and what it took was a princess whose presence shone as vividly as his own scales.

That was why–

Just as the horse trotted through the gate, he swept out his tail, blocking the way for the only one remaining.

Coppelia turned around, head tilted slightly as she offered a smile bereft of shame.

“Heheh~ second thoughts, huh?”

“Most certainly not. I shall not renege on an arrangement once made.”

“Oh, okay. Because I was expecting this to be the bit where you ask me if I fancy staying a bit longer to tidy some shelves while pushing a heap of gold towards me.”

“I have utterly no intention of bribing you.”

“Great. Because that also wouldn’t work. Wink, wink.”

Virudaax swished the tip of his tail slightly. Coppelia instinctively ducked her head.

“I’ve neither a reason nor a wish to prevent your leave. Your contract still holds. You remain an assistant librarian. Your place of employment has merely relocated. For now. This is not a holiday.”

“Hey! Work that’s fun is work that’s productive! Did you see how I got that really hard to find book and all that debt back? I’m amazing!”

“One task is complete, but another appears. I intend to thoroughly pore over every page to be found in the home of Tirea’s royalty. And so shall you.”

Coppelia’s smile suddenly became very fixed.

“Hmm? I thought I was just punting things through the thingy?”

“You are not punting anything.” Virudaax wrinkled his snout. “You will treat every book you find with the respect which is warranted. And as Fleur will be busy cleaning shelves for the foreseeable future, now is the time you shall begin taking up additional responsibilities.”

A look of horror sprouted upon Coppelia’s face.

“Are … Are you threatening me with a promotion?”

“It is not a threat. It is an honour. One which I certainly have not decided upon yet.”

“Oh, thank goodness. I thought I saw my life beginning to flash.”

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Virudaax narrowed his eyes as he leaned forwards.

“You have not done enough work for that. Begin by cataloguing every book under the possession of Tirea’s royal family.”

“By cataloguing, you mean–”

“Find everything. Search out every crevice, every corner, every bucket. Even for us, the abodes of royalty are often off-limits. I shall not see this exchange squandered. Do not allow a page to be missed. I have been promised the finest forbidden works hidden to even my eyes. I intend to read them–no matter where they seek to hide.”

To Virudaax’s puzzlement, Coppelia responded with a look bordering on hesitation.

In fact … it looked almost like pain.

It lasted for only a moment.

With a smile which persisted no matter how often he wrinkled his nose at her, his librarian gave a fervent nod, promising to deliver what was owed for her time.

“Got it! I’ll be sure to look everywhere! No cabinet, pantry or mixing bowl still filled with cake dough will be safe!”

Virudaax almost sent out another huff.

Instead, he considered Coppelia’s momentary lapse of misgiving.

For one of his own librarians to display such a reaction could only mean one thing. She already had an inkling of what awaited. And it was beyond anything he had read.

More than ever, the ancient dragon was now intrigued … almost as much as he was concerned.

“This princess … how exactly did you come to be acquainted?”

“We met in a forest. She blew it up.”

Virudaax paused.

Hermit or not, he was still a dragon. And he knew enough prudence to understand that some details were better left for historians to concern themselves with. Particularly if it involved a letter of complaint heading his way.

The problem was the trinket Coppelia now bore.

The fae, after all, did not issue letters. They issued wrath as unremitting as the seasons. Or gifts laced in debt.

He hoped the ring she wore was the former.

“Please tell me the forest did not belong to the fae.”

“Don’t worry, it was just a normal forest. If it was bigger, the explosion would have been a lot bigger.”

“I hope that’s not indicative of any feud you’ve encouraged. I note you carry an object belonging to them. Somehow.”

Coppelia frowned, then leaned away.

“Mine,” she said as she hugged her hand.

“I do not want your ring,” he said with a sigh. Several trees bent away from him at once. “I want to know how it was attained. The fae are easily amused, but not easily deceived. Their ire would ruin the library’s reception, to say nothing of the entry outside. The patio was only just repaved.”

“Oh, in that case, you don’t need to worry. I didn’t do anything.”

“... The princess, then.”

“Yup! No idea what she did. But I bet it involved extortion. And also that laughter.”

Virudaax let out a tiny, earth shuddering groan.

He had on occasion sought out the fae. He hoped they would never seek him out in turn. A hope he would hold all the way until it inevitably failed. For a princess to bargain with the fae was a tale in itself. Just as it was to approach a waking dragon.

It was a tale he expected to read, once the ink had set.

“I’m aware she provided assistance in retrieving what was owed to us. A point I acknowledged while accepting her offer. I find this human noteworthy. Tell me, what is your opinion regarding this curious princess?”

Coppelia poked her own cheek in thought.

After a moment, she threw her arms up and gave a beaming smile.

“I like her! She’s fun!”

Virudaax waited a moment.

Nothing else was offered. Yet rather than his nose wrinkling at the lack of context, he found his entire frame relaxing. A peculiar reaction he understood no more than the pleasing warmth in his throat, despite his flame being still.

He made a mental note to review Mizzirin’s Draconic Physiology, 5th edition afterwards to understand what that reaction signified.

He hoped that didn’t mean he was dying.

“Anyway, I’m off now!” said Coppelia as she climbed the spikes upon his tail. “You know, before the gate spell which is eating up magical energy like a bonfire closes. But don’t worry, I’ll gently punt the best or the worst of the forbidden books over.”

And just like that, the feeling of relaxation was swept away like a barn.

Virudaax huffed as his librarian hopped over his tail.

As ever, she paused only when deciding which item at the breakfast buffet she wanted to eat first. She instead whistled, never once looking back as she followed after a princess and a particularly unbothered horse.

He gave her a little poke on the way out.

Partly because he felt like it. But mostly to prevent the gate prematurely collapsing should a heroine take the view that it contravened article 31a of the Queensholme Accords regarding endangering the fabric of reality.

A law he always viewed as highly selective.

After all, not only would that make every mage with a spoon a culprit, but few things were as destructive to the natural order of things as the swords carried by those tasked with upholding it.

Virudaax peered up.

“You are late, Miss Rowe.”

He waited.

A moment later, he witnessed the sight of a girl on a yellow broomstick descending from the clouds with far more ease than anyone not a witch should be able to boast.

A girl who matched the princess in youth, and equally so in the trials and tribulations of a unique life.

Elise Rowe.

The official heroine of the Duchy of Witschblume.

She wore a waitress uniform along with a professional smile, tempered in the unforgiving gauntlet of both public and customer service. For despite the yellow broomstick and the frilled apron, it was the sword at her back which drew the eyes of all around her.

A dragon’s, most especially.

“Actually, I’m not even here,” said Elise brightly. “I’m officially on holiday.”

“You appear to be wearing a uniform.”

“Oh, the holiday is regarding my heroine duties. I’m not on holiday from the café. Which is quite a problem, since Duchess Cadence wrote an edict saying I need to use up all my allowance before I can come back. We’ve opened up a pop-up branch in Widzenport until then. You should visit. The chiffon cakes are the same as always.”

Virudaax thought for a moment.

In truth, he already missed his library. But perhaps this entire incident only occurred because he spent too much time there.

“I shall consider it.”

Elise smiled, then looked pointedly to the side.

The grass and the leaves had calmed, yet such was the potency of the spell that had occurred, the fading image of a gate could still be seen even after the magic had waned.

“Did I miss much?” she asked.

“I believe you are in a better position than me to answer that. I have been asleep. You, I imagine, were observing carefully. From a distance which the witches would take issue at, I should add. Did you not feel the need to make yourself known?”

The heroine tilted her head slightly as she hummed.

Whatever her answer, it was unlikely to reference her broomstick’s upgraded nature.

“Nope,” she said cheerfully, having not actually thought at all. “It seemed impolite to interrupt. This wasn’t my tale.”

Virudaax snorted. Elise expertly rolled out of the way of the ensuing flame.

“I see you are reliable in defying expectations, much like my own staff. Yet I believe it is best to not allow too many princesses to rescue dragons in need. It would set a hammer to tradition.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s a concern. Our princesses delight in being kidnapped. There’s actually a bidding war going on right now. I saw harps, fancy dresses and example screaming all on display just to woo the best dragon. You should take part.”

“Thank you. But I shall pass. It is unlikely that any princess would command my attention as much as the one who has now left.”

Elise nodded as she peered at the remains of a footbath.

She less than subtly descended towards it.

“The princess certainly looked the part. Very pretty. Although I couldn’t look too closely. My sword was burning so much I thought another Next Great Evil had awoken. Which kingdom was she from?”

“The Kingdom of Tirea.”

“Oh, really? I met someone from there not too long ago. An older lady. She was beating up a tribe of marauding centaurs with a shoe.”

“I see.”

Elise paused, then looked thoughtfully to the horizon.

“... The Kingdom of Tirea. It is a slightly odd place, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Virudaax the Learned nodded seriously. “I think so as well.”