Cedez, sauntered into the caretaker's cottage that had become their new home after Dave and Remicra.

“This is for you,” With an air of triumph, she dropped a large, jingling bag onto the table. The contents clinked and clattered, the unmistakable sound of silver coins settling in their new position.

Dave, glanced over at the bag, one eyebrow raised in curiosity. "Did you...?" he asked, squinting as if the sheer weight of the coins was somehow offensive to his eyes.

"Sell many Bakelite sets this morning using the broadcasting orb as a showcase of its extraordinary capabilities while regaling the people of Shandria how five of Lord Burgundy's best hunters could do absolutely nothing against a man armored in Bakelite?" The foxgirl replied, her ears wiggling with a mischievous glee. "Why, yes, Dave, I did."

Remicra, whose scales shimmered with iridescence that betrayed her agitation, narrowed her eyes. "How many sets have you two conniving entrepreneurs managed to sell already?" she demanded, her scales flushing a fiery orange hue.

Cedez, puffing out her chest with pride, declared, "Two hundred and sixteen sets."

The dragoness sputtered, momentarily lost for words. "But... that's... how can you possibly expect me to produce such a massive amount of sets? We've only managed to create one set for Dave so far!"

Cedez shrugged nonchalantly, the movement causing her bushy tail to swish back and forth like an elegant metronome. "My job, as you know, is selling them, not making them. I'd suggest you hire some help."

Remicra waved her clawed hands angrily, her frustration boiling over like magma from a volcano. "I'm a runaway slave, and Dave's practically a fugitive! How exactly do you propose we find help?"

"I recommend buying slaves," Cedez suggested, her voice tinged with a hint of innocence that didn't quite match her cunning eyes. "They can live in the park. Just set up a few tents, and they'll feel right at home."

"I'm not sure how to feel about this," Dave frowned. The idea of owning slaves left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"If you don't buy them, someone else will," Cedez shrugged, her delicate shoulders rising and falling with a carefree air. She crossed her arms, her silver gaze unwavering. "A big party of them came in recently. Get them in bulk on discount while they're fresh."

Dave rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling the pressure building behind his eyes. He knew Cedez had a point, but the weight of the decision loomed heavy on his conscience.

Remicra opened and closed her mouth, her scales shimmering with orange-tinted unease. She glanced between Cedez and Dave, her draconic pride clashing with the pragmatism of the situation.

"You can take the collars off them," Cedez stretched, her lithe body arching. "As long as nobody sees that they're running wild and free within this estate, the Guild won’t take them back or penalize you."

Dave let out a deep sigh as he weighed the options. He glanced at Remicra.

The dragoness stared at Cedez, her eyes narrowing to slits.

"What's your interest in Dave?" Remicra demanded again, her voice sharp and accusing. She shifted her weight, the scales on her body reflecting the rays of sunlight coming into the room like a thousand tiny mirrors.

"Oh?" Cedez tilted her head, her silver eyes meeting Remicra's gaze without flinching. A coy smile danced on her lips, toying with the dragoness's curiosity. "It's not enough that he can smell dungeon cores?"

"Anyone classified as a searcher can find a dungeon core with a hex wand that spots them," Remicra waved the answer away, her scaled hand dismissing the notion with a flick. "I've made a few myself for Lord Burgundy's Searcher."

"He can spot a dungeon core hidden behind warded magisteel," Cedez clarified.

"How many bloody dungeon cores are hidden behind a wall of magisteel except for the one in this Estate?" Remicra growled, her agitation growing by the second. "Tell me the truth - what is your interest in this idiot? Why is he worth more than twenty thousand silver to you?"

Dave, caught off guard by the sudden interrogation, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The two women's gazes locked, creating a palpable tension that seemed to fill the room.

"If you insist," Cedez rolled her eyes, her voice dripping with very mild annoyance. She leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table as she locked her silver gaze on Remicra. "Dave has a gift, one that’s far more valuable than a mere searcher. He is unbreakable."

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"What?" Remicra hissed, her disbelief evident in the sharpness of her tone. "I've seen him get burned on the hot coals and cry like a baby!" She gestured at Dave, who looked mildly embarrassed at the reminder.

"Oh," Cedez rolled her eyes, her silvery lashes fluttering as if to emphasize her point. "He's physically frail as a level three adventurer, sure - but that’s what armor is for. I'm talking about his inner spire. His grand cathedral of limitless thought." Her words were laden with a sense of revelation, as if she had just divulged a closely guarded secret.

Remicra raised an eyebrow, her curiosity raised a tad despite her initial skepticism. "And what exactly does that mean?" she inquired.

"Dave, I want you to pull your pants off and dance naked on this table for me," Cedez suddenly turned to Dave, spirals of silver dancing in her eyes like hypnotic whirlpools.

Dave's hands went to his belt buckle and stopped as the defensive chain of Dave-Sherlock-Dave automatically kicked in and interrupted the motion. He blinked, momentarily dazed, then looked at Cedez with a mixture of irritation and defiance.

"She's onto us," Sherlock's violin sang a sharp note.

Remicra blinked, not understanding the significance of the exchange that had just occurred.

"Dave is completely immune to charisma magic," Cedez purred. "He's the first person I've met in twenty years that won't listen to me, no matter how much I try to sway him with charisma-laden words."

"Maybe your charisma magic is simply shi..." the dragoness snapped. Her scales rippled with annoyance, the colors shifting like the surface of a turbulent sea.

"Remicra," Cedez interrupted the dragoness, her eyes glittering with mischief. “Dance for me like you want me. Seduce me.”

Remicra's eyes glazed over like a pair of frosted windows on a chilly winter morning. Her visage softened, anger washed away, assuming an expression of tranquility as she surrendered to the command. The dragoness began to sway in rhythm with a tune that played soundlessly – an elusive piece of music that seemed to exist only within the confines of her own mind.

Her scaled, sparkling fingers found their way to her apron. With a fluid motion that could only be described as the epitome of grace, she untied the strands and allowed the fabric to slip down and off of her lithe body. As she moved, rays of sunlight illuminated the contours of her curves.

Dave, unable to bear the sight of his friend under the thrall of the order, leapt to his feet. His mind was affected with angry indignation as he swung his arm back and delivered a resounding slap to Cedez.

"Owie," the dark foxgirl whimpered, rubbing her cheek as silver-blue eyes blinked in surprise. The sting of the slap seemed to reverberate through the room, its echo breaking the spell that had been controlling the dragoness.

Remicra suddenly halted mid-twirl, her confusion as palpable as the tension in the air. Blinking rapidly, as though emerging from a deep slumber, she struggled to piece together what had just transpired. Her gaze fell upon her apron, which now hung precariously from her waist, and she blushed with embarrassment. With fingers that trembled ever so slightly, she hastily tied it back up, covering her chest up.

"What the hell?" Dave his voice low and menacing as he glared at Cedez.

"I was simply proving a point," the foxgirl retorted, a hint of defiance in her voice as she continued to rub her cheek. “She was asking for it.”

Dave's arm shot out, finger pointing towards the door like an arrow released from a taut bowstring. "Out," he commanded, his tone brooking no argument.

"What if I don't want to be out?" Cedez's silver-blue eyes narrowed as they locked onto Dave's, her gaze challenging him. But Dave was unyielding, his anger a simmering flame that would not be extinguished.

"Out," he repeated, his voice a taut wire of barely contained rage. "I don't give a damn who you are, but if you're going to bewitch my friend like that, we're done."

"Did you not enjoy the show?" Cedez inquired, tilting her head to one side in a feigned gesture of innocence that only fanned the flames of Dave's fury. “I did say that I can make your dragon submit to my charm.”

At this, Remicra, who had been standing and looking somewhat confused in the background, stepped forward. Her scales sparkled with indignation as she reached out, grasping Cedez by her cloak as if the lithe foxgirl were merely a mischievous black kitten.

"Eek," Cedez yelped, her bravado crumbling as the dragoness effortlessly carried her across the room like a mother cat with a wayward offspring.

With a swift, fluid motion, Remicra flung open the door, and the air of the sunshine-warmed park rushed in like an uninvited guest. The dragoness then unceremoniously threw Cedez outside, her dark form tumbling through the air before landing with an undignified thud on the grass. Without a moment's hesitation, Remicra slammed the door shut, effectively sealing the unwanted girl out of their sanctuary.

As the metaphorical dust settled, Dave and Remicra exchanged wary glances. The silence that permeated the room was as thick as the fog that often hung over Shandria during the early hours of the morning. It was only broken by the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner, each second a sharp reminder of their recent confrontation with the charismancer vixen.

After a deep pause that seemed to stretch into eternity, Dave finally spoke. "You know, for all your name calling, you're acting pretty rough yourself against someone who could report us to the watch," he observed.

Remicra bristled at his words, her scales rippling in a wave of indignation. "She's not going to report shit," she growled. "She really needs you for something, and she's willing to break far too many laws of Shandria and forsake twenty thousand silver for it. That little leech isn’t going to leave us alone."

"I'm not a leech, I'm a nice, adorable foxgirl," Cedez's twinkling voice floated in from a window, as if carried on the wings of a mischievous breeze.

Dave and Remicra exchanged incredulous glances, both wondering if they would ever be free from the persistent, fox-shaped shenanigans.

With a huff and a roll of her eyes that could only be described as the epitome of exasperation, Remicra stomped over to the window. She slammed the window down and pulled the shutters closed.