A Tyrant, Sort Of

"There’s not much to say about them,” Roman replied. “They’re pretty much normal adventurers, but focus more on hunting down powerful surface beasts than dungeons.”

“Why?” Sable asked. “Aren’t dungeons better in every way? You get more experience, and there’s loot.” It was one of the reasons Sable had wanted her human form, beyond the obvious. Faster levels and even gear to equip, or hoard, sounded enticing. Though with her reduced stats, she wasn’t sure whether surface hunting or dungeon delving would be more effective. Plus, the drastically reduced constitution made her nervous.

“There’s plenty of money in tracking down beasts, too, if you’re going for the right one. Don’t get that mixed up—it’s one of the reasons people will come for you. And not everything’s about profit and putting on levels. I think most dedicated Slayers get skills that close the gap, that make difficult hunts give way more experience, so dungeons aren’t necessary to progress. Regardless, it’s more about the prestige or even clearing out dangerous threats.” Roman shrugged. “Motivations change by the person, obviously.”

“Huh,” Sable said. “And it’s this group that would go hunting a dragon.”

“Naturally.”

Sable could infer there were Slayers capable of killing her with ease; she didn’t need to ask for clarification on that point. “So, as I’ve already figured, the goal is to stay hidden. Difficult to track down. That would help?”

“Probably.”

“Probably?”

“I’ve no idea the full capabilities of the Slayer’s Guild. Who knows how they hunt their targets? Maybe it’s divination, maybe it’s something else.”

“How’s that work, anyway? Divination. The limits and extents of it.”

“Have to know something about the target. Maybe the strongest diviners can pull information out of thin air, but the potency is drastically reduced. Gotta already have a link.”

“Link?”

“Physical is best, like, say, an actual belonging of yours.”

Sable’s mind briefly flashed to how Gritzn had used a severed arm to track down Quil’s team. She supposed that was about the best ‘link’ that could be found. Logically following that, her thoughts went to the scale she’d discarded into her hoard. Could that be a weak point? Then again, if someone found her hoard, and defeated Ignisfang to rummage through it, then she had way bigger problems.

Regardless, securing her hoard bumped up a few steps in priority. She’d been planning on moving for a while; Lake Plateglass was a temporary solution, and finding a more permanent home was something she ought to do soon.

“But non-physical, also?” Sable asked. That seemed to be what Roman had implied.

“Weaker, but yes. A discussion with a family member might provide a tentative thread to divine some tidbits about a missing party. Or other such situations. It’s not an exact science.”

Sable nodded. She was quickly coming to terms with the fact she’d never be able to account for everything. Even what Roman was saying was generalizing how divination worked—someone’s class might be special and work in an entirely different way.

“And there’s wards I can make against spells like that?” Sable asked.

“With your enchant keyrune,” Roman agreed. “One of its primary fields is defensive arrays.”

“But you can’t help me with making them.”

“I’m a necromancer,” Roman said. “It’s incredible we got you some basic working enhancements. Advanced ones? Yeah, no. Besides, for the level of opposition that’ll eventually be coming after you, you don’t want half-assed solutions.”

“I need a teacher specialized in that field,” Sable said, finishing the thought. “Which leads me to another major topic.”

Roman took a drink from her tea, inclining her head for Sable to continue. She seemed interested in this discussion. Sable could guess why—it wasn’t every day Roman got to chat with a dragon about how the world worked, and how to stay alive.

“To find that teacher, I’ll need to infiltrate a human city, as you said.”

“It’d be the easiest way to find someone to teach you, I’m fairly certain.”

“So what would the prime candidate be? Of nearby cities.”

“Ah,” Roman said. “I’ve been wondering when you’d ask.”

Sable was glad to hear that she seemed to have thought the subject over. This was a topic Sable was even less informed than usual; she knew next to nothing about the various human kingdoms, or which city would be the easiest to infiltrate while minimizing risk.

“There’s a few criteria to consider,” Roman said. “First, it can’t be some tiny town—there won’t be enough mages to help you. So a capital, or otherwise a city where lots of adventurers congregate. That comes with equal risk should you somehow be found out, but there’s no getting around it.”

Sable nodded.

“Second, you probably want a city where there’s plenty of beastkin. You’ll need to come up with at least a flimsy cover story, and I’d figure claiming to be a lizard beastkin would most reasonably explain all that.” Roman waved up and down at Sable, and Sable became suddenly aware of her thick white lizard tail and jutting horns. “Though lizards don’t usually have horns,” Roman said dryly. “Still, it’s not the oddest thing in the world for beastkin to get traits that don’t fit perfectly with their dominant species. Mixed heritage and all that.”

“Beastkin?” Sable asked. She could infer, but best to confirm.

“Humanoid species that take on animal traits,” Roman said. “There’s about a million different types, which makes it a great cover.”

A part of her prickled at the idea of masquerading as an actual lizard, but it couldn’t be helped. Her more logical side was grateful there was such an easy solution to her horns and tail, and that she wouldn’t need to wear around an illusion everywhere.

“Right,” Sable said. “And the other criteria?”

“Thirdly,” Roman replied. “You want the city to be at most near a red zone, not a black, so it’s not too dangerous. And probably in the middle of nowhere. Some place unimportant, on the grand scale of things, and without too many high level potential enemies. Where, should your presence create waves, news won’t spread as rapidly to places that do matter.”

The necromancer’s dry tone suggested that she doubted Sable would be fully successful in her espionage efforts. Sable supposed that was fair; she doubted she’d be able to fully avoid attention. Just, she had to avoid the big secret getting out: that she was a dragon.

“And finally, it should be located in an adjacent kingdom,” Roman said. “I’m assuming you’re not abandoning your efforts here.”

“Minimizing travel times is best,” Sable agreed. [Soar] was truly an astounding ability for covering enormous distances in no time at all, and was growing more effective with each level, but she doubted she could cross the continent with ease—however large it was.

“Well, with all of that considered, you’re left with essentially one candidate,” Roman said. “There’s a city called Wastehaven in the far south of the Kingdom of Auldstone. I wouldn’t call it unimportant, but it’s certainly no kingdom capital. Most importantly, it’s rather cosmopolitan, a major adventuring city—crawling with nearly every race on the continent. Even the dwarves have an outpost nearby. Beastkin, a given. Being tucked into the far south-east of the continent, though, and with all the High Kingdoms in the north-west, it’s out of the way, and generally not involved with the real powers of the world. Big enough you could probably find whatever you need there, including a mage that can tutor you on your enchant keyrune, but also not so prominent that it’s crawling with people who could crush you.” Roman gave her a significant look. “Though at least some level thirties, if I had to guess. You won’t be the eminent force there, that’s certain. But that’s true for every major city across the world, as it stands.”

Level ten was level ten. Dragon advantages or not, her new life in this world had just begun. That she would already be one of the strongest forces, though not the strongest, in a notable city after just a week of leveling indicated she was as absurdly powerful as the stories suggested.

“Sounds perfect,” Sable said. “We’ll need a cover story, too. A full one, I mean. Backgrounds and such.”

Roman paused. “I’m sorry, did you say ‘we’?”

“Well, you’re coming with, obviously. You’ll be my guide.”

“Excuse me?”

“You didn’t think you were staying here?” Sable asked, amused. “Why are you, anyway? Here, in the Red Plains?”

Roman leveled a flat look at her. “Why am I in the middle of nowhere, away from the human kingdoms? Hm, I don’t know, Sable. Maybe I have a good reason for that.”

It was Sable’s turn to pause. “And that is?”

“I’m a wanted woman,” Roman said. “Wastehaven might be safer than most, being somewhat in the middle of nowhere, but it would still be risky to return to the public.”

“Wanted?” For some reason, that caught Sable off guard. “For what?”

As if to draw attention to her affliction, Roman drummed four black skeletal digits against the table. The clicking noise of bone hitting wood was slightly disorienting. “I’d rather not get into the details,” Roman said. “But yes. There’s a reason I fled to one of the most remote, unimportant parts of the world. I didn’t choose goblin territory for the scenery.”

“Right,” Sable said. She digested this announcement, finding it somewhat obvious on reflection, but still surprising. Roman was being hunted? By who, and why?

An unexpected surge of annoyance flared at the idea of someone tracking down Roman. She’d already claimed this woman as an ally, so if some worms wanted to find and capture her, then they’d need to deal with Sable, first. And that would obviously end in one way.

Sable let out a huff, unable to help it. The surge of emotion had come out of nowhere, and had been strangely intense. She refocused herself, wondering why she’d become so suddenly defensive of the necromancer—growing ally or not.

“Regardless,” Sable said, “you’re dying. You said you have a few months? We need to make quick progress. Surely you won’t be discovered as soon as you step inside the city. And once I’ve grown, I can handle any threats that come for us. Unless it’s some obscenely powerful force?”

Roman hesitated, as if debating whether she wanted to explain more of her situation. “It’s complicated,” she finally said. “But no. Not obscenely powerful. Probably.”

“Probably?”

“I’m not that important. But there’s members of the Tower who could pose a threat to you, even at any level you reach. Those higher ups are certainly not interested in me and my situation, though.”

“The Tower?”

“A place where mages congregate. A learning institution. And a polity in and of itself, I suppose. People from all kingdoms, human and not, go there.”

“Hm,” Sable said. “Still, what I said isn’t wrong? You won’t be caught that fast, and it won’t be too long before I can guard you from whatever comes. Moreover, as I improve with my enchant keyrune, I could simply hide you as I do myself.”

For a nearly uncomfortably amount of time, Roman simply studied her. Sable couldn’t tell if it was suspicion or confusion. Probably both.

“I suppose,” Roman said. “If you were truly extending your protection, then that wouldn’t be incorrect.”

“I already made my intent clear,” Sable sniffed. “I’m seeking long term alliances.”

Roman gave her another strange look. Finally, she stood. “Weirdest dragon ever,” she muttered. She scooped up Sable’s empty tea cup and headed for the counter. “Want another?”

“Yes, please,” Sable said.

Another glance over her shoulder. Roman shook her head, then muttered to herself, “A dragon that says please. The world has lost its mind.”