A Tyrant, Sort Of

Conquering the Red Plains was still important, but Sable had decided against doggedly pursuing that goal by throwing her weight around in a personal matter. Half the reason was because she thought it might lead to more situations like Verindale—the goblins’ stalwart last stand, she meant, not the eldritch abomination part—and half of it was because she’d become more concerned with other goals. She no longer thought accruing as much territory and wealth as soon as possible was her most pressing task. Still important, but not top of the list. The Bonecrackers could handle those efforts on her behalf, and she would deal with the cities and tribes who refused later.

Rather, she needed knowledge, and a better long-term plan stemming from that knowledge.

After rummaging through Skatikk’s armory and finding some robes to wear—white, naturally—Sable set off into the wilderness. She donned the fabric and tested whether clothing carried between transformations, finding that it did, fortunately, so those logistical issues she’d worried about earlier wouldn’t be a problem.

From there, she headed for the woman she felt most comfortable with when it came to discussing long-term plans and the world at large. Roman.

She wouldn’t say she outright trusted the necromancer, but she trusted her more than anyone besides Aylin. Aylin, however, simply lacked an understanding of the world beyond the relatively weak goblin lands, and wasn’t much of a resource in that regard.

And Sable did have the assurance that Roman’s fate was tied to hers. Sable was the mage’s best chance to cure that bizarre affliction that had left her hand in its skeletal state—and would eventually be claiming the rest of her. Hence, a prolonged and frank discussion on Sable’s plans for world domination was, while not something she felt not wholly comfortable with, her best option.

Setting Aylin down into the dirt a short distance from Roman’s hut, Sable activated [Halfdragon Form]. It was perhaps not the most utilitarian thing to do, since she had Aylin to speak through, and also needed the bonus stats to slowly recover, but having her own mouth simplified things. Using Aylin to speak was perfectly functional, but still not what she preferred. Not only was there a delay in the words, but Aylin didn’t always get her tone exactly right—though she did a mostly good job with it.

In a short puff of frostfire, and a white-blue glyph engraving onto the ground before quickly fading, Sable was standing in her much more diminutive human body.

It was the first time Aylin had seen her in it, since her first experiments last night had been private, as well as donning her white mage’s robes having obviously taken place with her not watching. Sable wouldn’t consider herself an overly bashful girl, but her first introduction to someone being stark naked wouldn’t have been ideal.

Aylin’s eyebrows raised as she took in Sable’s form, but Sable was determined for the event not to be awkward. Because this event intrinsically produced that emotion, for some reason. It was like showing off a drastically different haircut, except a dozen times more pronounced.

“Wow,” Aylin finally settled on. “You’re taller than I expected. Though I guess I did expect that. Of course dragons are tall.”

Sable hummed in response to that, also struggling for exactly what to say, before settling on that she didn’t need to say anything. She strode off for Roman’s hunt, and Aylin followed her.

One of the interesting benefits to her new body was that she still seemed to be impervious to most things. The hot sand of the Red Plains ought to be scorching, but her bare feet barely registered the temperature. Even with the drastic reduction in stats, she was still immune to most mundane irritants, either because of her impressive starting point, or perhaps her race. Half a dragon was still a more powerful form than a regular human, she would figure.

She knocked on Roman’s door, and to her surprise, the entire frame shook, sending dust cascading across the cabin. Sable paused at the dramatic reaction from the structure, then realized she might have to learn to control her strength. In her dragon body, she had done so naturally, since she’d learned her new body’s limits as a matter of growing into it. Plus, gentleness or finesse hadn’t ever been a goal of hers, besides when carrying people around. Her human body, on the other hand, already had a set of instincts and natural tendencies, which she would have to actively overwrite and correct.

Roman opened the door, and Sable found herself looking down into green eyes. She was taller than even Roman—and she had gotten the impression Roman was a tall woman herself. Sable became doubly certain she herself was at least six feet tall, and possibly in the middle range of that, not the low end. Roman was probably just around that mark, if not an inch or two shorter. Five ten? Though these were just guesses.

“Well, fuck me,” Roman said in introduction, two dark eyebrows having shot practically into her hairline. “Sable?”

“Yes,” Sable replied, feeling strangely embarrassed by the event, as she had with Aylin. “My halfdragon form. I received it yesterday.”

Falling back on her tried and true tactic, she sniffed and strode into Roman’s hut without invitation. Her long dragon tail dragged behind her, brushing against wood. She was still getting used to that—it was the most prevalent non-human part of her.

“Yeah, sure,” Roman said dryly. “Come on in. Why not?”

Sable, like usual, forgave the impudence.

She peered around the structure, finally getting to see the interior of Roman’s cabin first hand. It was a reclusive mage’s hideout—more or less exactly as she’d imagine it. Maybe a few more skeletons than stereotypical. Roman was a necromancer, for all she didn’t seem to be trying to raise an army of the undead.

After looking around, she turned back to Roman, and was briefly disoriented at seeing eye-to-eye—or, mostly—to another human. Perusing Roman’s house hadn’t just been out of curiosity; Sable had also been buying time to organize her thoughts in the meantime. This was a more disorienting event than she’d expected, and she’d already planned to be slightly awkward.

“I have some things to discuss with you,” Sable said. “Are you free?”

A prim eyebrow quirked at the question, and Roman crossed her arms. “And if I said no, would that change anything?”

Sable sniffed in response, then settled into the cramped kitchen chair. Her tail caused less issues than she’d expected; it tucked away without being too uncomfortable. Though not perfectly, either, considering how bulky it was.

“It could take some time,” Sable said. “If you have anything urgent to finish, I’ll wait.”

“How generous,” Roman said dryly.

For all Roman had kept her typical demeanor, seeming nearly unaffected by her arrival besides her initial surprise, Sable caught the dark-haired woman studying her. Sable supposed it was an interesting event, getting to see a dragon in her half-dragon form for the first time, especially after having known Sable beforehand. Still, the poorly hidden scrutiny was somewhat embarrassing. It nearly made her shift in place, a blush threatening to creep up. She didn’t even have a layer of white scales to hide such human reactions anymore. She was vulnerable in more ways than just her massively reduced stats.

And as for that—being weakened around Roman, who was an accomplished mage of a level Sable wasn’t quite sure of, possibly someone who could even pose a threat to her. It didn’t bother her. As she had already figured, Roman was one of the few people she could halfway trust. Maybe always staying in dragon form was smarter, but Sable didn’t think she could tolerate that. As much as she was a dragon these days, she was still partly human, too; getting to stretch her legs and move about in the way she was more familiar with was something she didn’t want to do without simply because it was more practical.

Roman didn’t have anything urgent to finish up, so she joined Sable at the table. After stacking papers and books haphazardly and thumping them down elsewhere, she settled into the chair opposite Sable. There were only two seats, so Aylin posted up against the wall, watching the interaction with obvious interest.

“So,” Roman said. “What, do dragons drink tea?”

Sable paused.

“Or is it blood of your enemies only?” Roman asked. “I’m all out of that.”

“Tea is fine,” Sable said. The offer interested her, actually. Getting to give her human taste buds a run after so many days of her, er, far more primal diet, was something she hadn’t known she’d been looking forward to.

Roman didn’t offer any flavors, but Sable assumed supplies were limited out in this remote part of the word, and that a wide variance of tea wasn’t something she had stocked. She still didn’t know exactly how Roman had ended up here. Apparently, the Red Plains, or goblin territory in general, wasn’t the easiest place to reach from the human kingdoms, hence its isolation, and how Roman was the only human she’d bumped into. Why had the dark-haired mage come here, of all places?

She was far from talkative about her past, but it ultimately didn’t matter, hence why Sable hadn’t questioned her much about it. That held true here and now, too. Sable simply had more pressing matters to discuss.

Namely, creating a more reasonable long term plan, and discussing what this [Seed of Hunger] was—though whether even Roman would have input there, she hadn’t a clue. Remnants of a dark goddess couldn’t be a specialty of just anyone in this world, even if Roman seemed more learned than most.

As Roman started the tea, she opened with a typically irreverent, “So, you’ve got me hostage. What is it?”