With a growing sense of unease hanging over them, Dave and Remicra sat together in the confines of the caretaker’s cottage living room. They discussed their options regarding Cedez, trying to make sense of her intentions and the best course of action to take.

"Perhaps we could just ignore her," Dave suggested. "Maybe she will tire of me and move on?"

“Highly unlikely,” Remicra shook her head with a scoff. "We have more important things to focus on, anyway. I’ll go work on a new forge. I nominate you to deal with our resident menace as you’re immune to her magic-laced words.”

With that conversation done, the dragoness departed to the large stone shed. As Dave walked out of the stone cottage he noted that the dark foxgirl had taken up residence in the lush, sprawling garden, her dark, curvy figure sitting on a bench surrounded by lilac trees.

Remicra began the arduous task of constructing a new forge, utilizing the supplies they had pilfered from the lighthouse smithy. Her deft fingers and taut muscles worked tirelessly, organising the stolen materials into a functional workspace where she could ply her arcane trade.

Too tired to contribute to her work, Dave decided to consult with Murdoc, who resided atop a colossal snail. Walking across an overgrown stone path, Dave approached the old man, hoping to glean some insight into Cedez's true identity and motives. The mage held a pipe in his hand and was blowing circular rings into the air.

"Mage Murdoc," Dave began. "You work for Cedez, yes?"

Murdoc, his long beard flowing like a silken waterfall as he stroked it thoughtfully, regarded Dave with a somewhat bored gaze, much as one would regard a common rock. "Yes," he intoned slowly, his voice a resonant baritone.

"Who is she? Who does she work for?" Dave inquired.

"Her story is not for me to reveal. It is hers and hers alone to share, when and if she chooses to do so," Murdoc replied, looking past Dave and into the distance, his thin lips thoughtfully chewing on the brown pipe that dangled from the corner of his mouth.

Dave considered his options. Cedez had casually inflicted her will upon Remicra with no regrets whatsoever. He could call Waymancer Riska, open a gate to some distant beyond, forget the armor orders and flee from Shandria, get away from Cedez. However, he was a wanted criminal now and Remicra was a runaway slave.

If Remy stepped out of Rimzadria Estate’s wards without magisteel armor covering her body, she would instantly be captured by Lord Burgundy’s private army of hunters. Cedez had checkmated him, made him rely on her, piled Bakelite orders on him, and openly revealed the fact that she knew about his abilities. She was binding him to Shandria, making him part of the local system of Lords.

“I did say that she was incredibly dangerous,” Sherlock commented with vibrating violin strings.

Dave couldn't deny that his clandestine companion had a point. Cedez was cunning and elusive, her true intentions hidden behind a veil of mischief and charm. As he weighed his options, he realized that he and Remicra would have to tread carefully in this game of cat and mouse – or perhaps, fox and dragon – lest they find themselves ensnared in a web of further manipulation from which there was no escape.

For now, Dave had no choice but to stay in Shandria, no choice but to make the magisteel armor for Remy. His heart was heavy with the weight of the situation, but he knew that sometimes the only way out was to tread ahead.

"Don't try to run from your problems," Murdoc suddenly commented, perhaps somehow deducing the inner turmoil painted on Dave's face. "Talk to her."

"And say what?" Dave snapped at the exceptionally calm wizard. "She used a goddamned charisma-command on my friend!"

"Tell her that it's wrong to do that," Murdoc suggested, his voice as steady as a mountain range.

"And you think that's going to work?"

"Perhaps," the emerald-robed wizard shrugged. "She seems to have taken a liking to you."

"Does she take a liking to summoned heroes often?" Dave asked curiosly despite his anger.

"The man who invented lattes," Murdoc let out another smoke ring into the air, amusement dancing in his eyes. "He got everything that he wanted out of her, got all of his wishes granted."

"What did he want?" Dave inquired, intrigued by the revelation.

"Power, wealth, a cadre of women," Murdoc said, his voice taking on a solemn tone. "He sold her everything he knew, and now he resides in the capital of the Shadow Empire showing off his vast harem."

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Dave furrowed his brow. How high was Cedez up the ladder of the local slave-owning aristocracy? She had introduced herself to Dave as a Sovereign of Shandria, but he had thought it a mere joke. Could Cedez actually be the queen of this city, masquerading as a cafe maid, gathering new subjects for the Empire of the Shadow?

As Dave contemplated the twisted web of intrigue that seemed to surround Cedez. Was she an enemy, a queen of the city, or something else entirely? Only time would tell, but one thing was certain: Dave's life had become infinitely more complicated since Cedez had sauntered into it.

Dave walked over to the garden-inhabiting foxgirl, his footsteps slow and deliberate as he navigated the haphazardly arranged flora. The vibrant array of flowers seemed to bow their heads in reverence to Cedez lounge-sitting on the dark iron bench, their delicate petals creating a kaleidoscope of vibrant colors that surrounded her dark figure.

"You're the Sovereign?" He asked, his voice cautious, as if he were treading on delicate ground.

"I'm a lot of things," Cedez wiggled her paws, her dark tail waggling in a playful manner. She seemed to revel in the mystery of her identity.

"Murdoc said that you grant wishes," Dave said.

"Do I really?" Cedez tilted her head, silver eyes sparkling like distant constellations of galactic spirals. She remained coy, her words dancing around the truth, tempting him to explore further. “Murdoc says a lot of exceptionally speculative things when he’s smoking his daydreamer pipe.”

"Quit screwing with me," Dave stepped forward. "Your charisma bullshit doesn't work on me."

"I'm not doing any screwing," Cedez grinned, her teeth gleaming like polished ivory. "Not unless that's your wish."

Dave sputtered, his mind careening sideways as he tried to process her words. In an act of self-preservation, he let Sherlock take over, drowning himself in the rational spirit of the dead detective.

Dave-Sherlock-Dave crossed his arms, his stance exuding a confidence that Dave had been unable to muster on his own.

"Miss Astra," Dave said, his voice steady and unwavering, cutting through the vixen’s brilliant smile. "I don't appreciate being manipulated by you. You’re my business partner, and our arrangement was that you sell armor for me for ten percent, not mentally influence Remicra to dance naked in front of us. Your lack of transparency and willing manipulation of my blacksmith employee has been rude and unbecoming of a business associate."

Cedez's grin faltered.

"I believe it is therefore within my prerogative to ban you from approaching anywhere near my current residence," Dave said, pointing at the caretaker's cottage. "Say, two hundred steps?"

"Very well, Sir Dave," Cedez acquiesced, hanging her head low. Her silver eyes glinted under her black mane like pinpricks of distant stars in the night. Her smile vanished completely. "I will comply with your wishes."

"Let me be clear," Dave added, his tone firm and resolute. "I’m only tolerating your presence within the grounds of the Rimzadria Estate because of your amicable behavior prior to this incident. Any further attempts at charisma magic anywhere near me or my employee will result in your expulsion from this park and the end of our partnership. Are we clear?"

Cedez nodded, biting her lower lip as she absorbed the gravity of his words.

Dave let go of Sherlock ever so slightly.

"I’m very disappointed in you," he added, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness.

"I’m sorry," she whispered, her shoulders drooping. Her tail stopped wagging, the silent acknowledgement of her transgression. “I can’t completely turn it off, the skill is part of who I am.”

"Is it part of who you are to manipulate people?" Dave growled, his frustration boiling over. "To take over their will? To turn them into mindless puppets with your voice?"

"Sometimes," Cedez admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... uh... thought that you would like it. The summoned hero who came through the gate to Shandria before you… wanted a harem of obedient, mindless slaves."

"The guy who invented lattes?" Dave asked.

"Steve Chadwick," Cedez nodded, her eyes downcast.

"Well, I'm not Steve," Dave crossed his arms, his posture mirroring the defiance in his voice. "Keep your charisma off around me."

"I understand," she nodded solemnly, her ears drooping ever so slightly. "I’ll keep it down as much as possible."

As Dave stared at the now-chastened foxgirl, he couldn't help but feel a mixture of pity and wariness. Cedez's actions had been undeniably manipulative and wrong, but there was something in her demeanor that suggested a genuine desire to please, albeit in a horribly misguided way.

"Are you selling armor to people using charisma magic?" Dave demanded, his eyes boring into hers. "Forcing them to sign the contract to buy Bakelite kits?"

"No," she shook her dark mane, the sincerity in her voice unmistakable. "That wouldn’t be very fun."

"Be honest with me, is all of this just a game to you?" Dave asked, searching her eyes for any sign of deception.

"Yes… it is," she confessed, her voice trembling, as the truth of her admission hung in the air like a dark cloud, casting a shadow over their uneasy alliance. “It’s all just a big, fun game.”

The anger surged within Dave once more, a wave of it rushing around his feet, threatening to sweep him away. He took a step forward, his eyes locked on Cedez's contrite expression.

"I want you to stop it," he hissed, his voice barely containing the storm of emotions roiling inside him.

"I... err... okay," she nodded, her silver eyes meeting his with an earnestness that was difficult to ignore. "If that's what you wish, I'll stop playing the game."

She lifted her dark paw, speckled with stardust sparks of occasional silver. Her fingers unfurled, revealing the pure silver pads on her palm.

"Shake on it?" She offered hesitantly, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I'll quit the game if that's what you want. I'll quit manipulating everyone, forever. Cross my heart and hope to die."