The next day, I sat in the ruins of the castle's alchemical lab. There wasn't much left of the interior, only a few tables and a handful of metal and glass vessels that were thoroughly ruined. The tools weren't ideal, and the room was quite drafty, but it was the best we had for now, and I had to make the potion that I'd finally gotten access to with the ingredients from Yorving Castle.

I watched a neck-less flask slowly come to a boil over a flickering orange flame. The scent of the festival fires that burned throughout town last night still lingered in my nose. In retrospect, it felt like an omen. The tiny candle-fire brought it to mind enough to make me a little nervous.

I reached down and scratched Juniper behind the ear. Over the last week, she had done little more than sleep and limp around the courtyard. I could tell she was getting weaker every day, but I couldn't bring myself to actually give her a real examination, for fear of what I might find. It did me good to be able to pat her fur now, when I felt everything else slipping away from me, and…. I didn't want to think about the inevitable.

The liquid in the flask slowly turned black, then dark blue. That was the signal I was waiting for, and I snuffed out the fire before dipping the flask in a basin of water I'd left in a shadowed spot in the courtyard to chill. The colour of the potion gradually began to lighten to a tone more similar to the sky as the temperature took its effect.

I stepped back, heaving a loud sigh. "One more ingredient…" I muttered, and stepped as far away from Juniper as I could before shifting. Nothing had changed about the process, but today, the sensation of scales crawling across my skin and my back splitting open to let out my wings and tail made my stomach churn. When it was finally done, I pushed myself to my feet, shaking my head and holding a hand over the flask.

There was a scraping against stone behind me, and a quivering voice whispered, "Saints' blood…!"

My head whipped around, a snarl in my throat at the voice I didn't immediately recognise. Juniper's head shot to attention, adding her crackly, rumbling growl to mine. But it was just Samson, standing in the doorway and now stumbling back, fear plastered on his face at the sight of the snarling dragon in front of him. He winced as he walked, lightly touching the bandages wrapped around his leg.

I cut the noise as soon as I saw who it was. «Sorry,» I muttered, embarrassed. «I didn't realise it was you.»

Samson grabbed hold of the door frame as he lifted himself to his feet. "I…I hadn't…" he stammered. "You really are cursed…."

I sighed. «Mhm. Is that a problem?»

His face scrunched up in confusion. "Um…no?"

«Good. I'm sorry we couldn't meet on better terms last night, but you're welcome for saving your life.» I placed a hand on my chest. «I'm Belfry, if you don't remember.»

Samson stood in the doorway for a long moment, processing. He kept glancing outside and up at the bright sun overhead, like he still wasn't caught up on everything that had gone on. I gave him a moment to think while I added the last ingredient to the potion. I quickly dragged my claw up my arm, giving myself a shallow slice just deep enough to bleed. I held my arm forward, letting the blood drip down into the flask. The liquid inside immediately began to boil, throwing splashes of purplish tar across the inside of the glass, but the action died down after a few seconds. Once it was calm again, I removed it from the cold water and set it back on the table to dry and set.

Samson was staring at me by the time I was finished. I tilted my head at him. «I'm an alchemist…in training,» I said. «Don't touch that potion. Dragon blood is poisonous, and it would probably kill you.»

"Right," he murmured. His voice was still quivering. There was the clicking of claws against stone as Juniper slowly lifted herself to her feet and limped over to Samson's side, leaning her head against his leg and looking up at him. His nervousness melted a little as he gave her scratches behind the ear, and I let a wide smile cross my face.

"So," Samson continued. "This is your castle?"

«It is,» I said. I gestured to the doorway. «It's a little stuffy in here. Shall we talk outside? The garden hasn't fully grown in yet, but it's a good deal more pleasant than this.»

He nodded and stepped out of the way. I stepped past him, leading the way across the bridge and over to the garden. A couple sprouts had already poked their green heads up through the unsettled earth, but they all had yet to become any more than seedlings. At least the paths were clearly delineated now.

I sat down near the centre, spreading my wings and letting them soak in the sun while I waited for Samson and Juniper to catch up. The heat and fresh air felt good on my skin.

Samson glanced up at me, then down at his bandages, then back up at me again before awkwardly starting. "Your friend, the prince, he told me in so many words what happened at the palace. He said that the burgomaster is dead."

«He told you right,» I confirmed. «The vicar, he's made his move. I guess he's probably claimed the city for himself by now.»

"Hah…" Samson breathed. "I don't think that I can return. The vicar already tried to have me killed twice. I don't want to find out if he's willing to try a third time."

I bowed my head. He was right, and I'd been thinking the same thing. The vicar didn't seem like the kind of person to let a failed assassination go.

«Do you have family?» I asked. «Friends? Someone who might be targeted because of a connection to you?»

"No," said Samson. "Thankfully. I…haven't spoken to my mother in years, and I rarely left the palace. I suppose I had some friends in the other servants there, but I don't know if they're still alive at this point anyway."

«In any case,» I said, «you could stay here.»

Samson gave me an incredulous look. "Here? Are you sure? I don't want to cause you any trouble."

«I don't think we can get in any more trouble with the new lord if we tried,» I said with a half-hearted, throaty laugh. «You're definitely not bringing any more. Besides, I had an idea, since you're trained to be a servant, right?»

"Right," he said.

«These grounds are pretty big,» I said, sweeping a wing to indicate the whole courtyard. «We could use someone to help take care of them.»

"So this is a job offer?" Samson asked with a raise of his eyebrow.

«In effect, yeah,» I said. «I'm not going to force you to work for the privilege of getting somewhere safe to stay. It's just an offer. Since I don't know if you'll be able to go back to what you used to do even if we are able to "deal with" the vicar soon.»

Samson nodded, watching some of the young flowers. "I'll need some time to think about it," he said. "The past several hours have been very exhausting, and I don't think I have it in me to make a commitment like this right now."

I nodded. «I understand. You're welcome to stay in the meantime.» I tapped my claws against the ground in sequence. «Although, if you want to be very helpful right this moment, it would be very useful if you had any information you could spare.»

"What kind of information?" asked Samson. "I'd be happy to give some, but I was never exactly prepared to be an informant."

«Just general things, what you might hear out in the city streets. The people here have been…less than helpful overall, especially when it comes to the vicar.»

Samson snorted. "Yes, that makes sense. Most people other than the nobles here aren't too fond of outsiders."

«I'd gathered,» I said. «First I want to know why there aren't any dragons in this city? My friends told me there used to be, that cities like this tend to have several dozen at least, but I haven't seen a single one the entire time we've been here.»

"I don't know the exact reason," said Samson. "I first heard about them leaving or disappearing when the Church started putting incense burners all over town. That stuff, it's supposed to purify the air. They said it wards off fiends and curses, but it seems like it warded off the dragons, too."

«So they just…left?»

"I hope so," said Samson. "I didn't keep track of all the dragons that used to live here, but I heard that some of them moved south, to Kirkwall. I know there's a handful that have taken up jobs protecting the Juniper Hills to the west, keeping the nobles' vineyards safe from monsters."

I thought back to the conversation I overheard about wyverns in the vineyards. How many of those dragons that had taken up mercenary work were actually fighters? They had tougher hide and stronger muscles than a human, sure, but I wasn't even sure how well I would handle a wyvern now. If the dragons were just like humans, most of them wouldn't stand a chance….

"I don't know if the vicar intended to get rid of them all," Samson continued. "He never said a word about the matter, to my knowledge. But I've heard some unpleasant rumours. If you ask me, I think he's afraid of anything that can challenge him, and dragons' natural strengths gave them the means to do that. Maybe he didn't mean to drive them out, but I doubt he's shedding any tears for their departure."

«More reason for the four of us not to go back in the city, then,» I muttered. «My other question is about the people who broke into the palace. Do you know what the "Skinners" are?»

Samson bit his lip, his eyes suddenly darting to the castle gate like he was afraid we were being watched. "I—I've heard the name," he said. "Do you know of the League?"

The name brought a few memories of some of my old crew talking in hushed tones at the pub, but I didn't recall any precise details of whatever they had said back then. «Not really,» I admitted.

"They're the most prolific criminal organisation in the Vale," said Samson. "And they operate out of Yorving. Or at least, that's what they say. I've never had the inclination to dig into that sort of business. But the Skinners are supposed to be one of the gangs that work for them, out of an abandoned abattoir in the Old Quarter, if the rumours are true. They've not got a good reputation. But I wouldn't have thought they'd have the tact or jurisdiction to sneak into the palace…."

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«I expect that one of them would be able to answer that question better than you,» I said. «That's good enough. It gives us a direction. Thank you for answering my questions.»

"Of course, sir," said Samson, trying to hold himself in a more formal and respectful pose despite the obvious pain from his injuries.

«Don't move about so much,» I chastised. «You'll just hurt yourself more.»

"I apologise," said Samson, allowing himself to fall into a more comfortable position. "I only meant to avoid seeming ungrateful for the help that you've already afforded me."

«Helping people is literally our job,» I said. «Don't feel like you need to repay us right now.»

I saw a glint of reflected blue light skitter across the ground, and looked up to see Arthur flying in from overhead, waving at me as he landed in the western courtyard. «Looks like I have something I need to attend to,» I said to Samson. «Why don't you go get yourself something to eat, and then relax, alright?»

Samson hesitantly nodded. "Alright."

I patted Juniper on the head. «You look out for him, girl,» I whispered, receiving a quiet bark in response before I hurried across the grounds towards where Arthur was impatiently waiting by the gate. He looked nervous, though not quite enough to indicate that there was any immediate danger.

«What is it?» I asked. «Word from the others in town?»

«No, there's someone here,» said Arthur. «It's the same carriage from last night, the one with the noble lady. Luna-something. It's coming up the road.»

Florence. «…Huh. Help me with the gate, okay?»

«Alright.» The castle's gate wasn't in good shape, and while it was theoretically navigable, if a real noble was coming, I didn't want the flight to immediately fall on its face in terms of making an impression. With Arthur's help, we righted the portcullis and forced it into its gap in the ceiling. It would still need a real repair to open with the mechanism, but it was a lot better looking than having twisted iron and stone rubble in our gate.

«Are you feeling okay today, Arthur?» I asked. «I know last night was a little overwhelming, for everybody.»

«Mhm.» Arthur stared hollow-eyed at the road. «I, uh…. It's gotten worse again. The instincts thing. I know we've got bigger problems to deal with, but I'm worried. I'm scared. I saw the carriage while I was out flying, and I almost just swooped down on impulse. It's got all this silver on it and I just wanted…wanted to carry it away, and I almost did it. I think it might have been how much gold there was at the palace, I feel like I can still smell it.»

I tried my best to give him a sympathetic look, but I had to conceal my own fear, too. I wished I had a solution for him, but we weren't any closer to finding a cure, and every day he slid further and further into losing himself for good. I didn't even know if we'd be able to take him to the cathedral if we had to confront the vicar; that might be the last straw for his control over his own mind. Selfishly, I wondered what his losses meant for me. I wondered if my rage had gotten any worse without me noticing. I didn't manage to give Arthur any more than that look because I was suddenly busy fixating on every memory I had from the past week, trying to determine if I was remembering them wrong or if I was more violent than I recalled.

«…Well, I probably shouldn't be around for this,» Arthur said as the carriage circled around the hill and came into view before us. «I'll leave you to it. See you this evening.»

«See you,» I said, regaining my composure too late to give him the comfort I wanted to.

I backed away to give the carriage space as the driver slowly and cautiously navigated through the gate and stopped in the open path just inside the yard. The door opened, and Florence val Lunedor stepped down from inside. She was in significantly more practical dress now, with a black coat over her shoulders and a silver-rimmed pair of glasses on her face instead of a mask. She glanced around a few times before her eyes landed on me.

"Ah!" she yelped. Her poise momentarily broke, the façade of the wealthy scion cracking to reveal the young, anxious woman underneath.

"Ah, um, apologies." She straightened her coat. "You must be with the dragoons…. I'm looking for one Sir Belfry, could you be so kind as to point me to her?"

A low rumble of confusion escaped my throat, before I remembered. In our conversation last night, I hadn't revealed the extent of my curse. She didn't know I was really a dragon.

«That'd be me,» I said, sheepishly raising a hand. She jumped again at the voice in her ear, and her eyes widened.

"Oh," she mumbled. "Oh. I'm terribly sorry. I didn't expect for you to…to be…" she fumbled for words before awkwardly finishing, "…so big?"

I held in the laugh that tried to betray me right then. She seemed entirely different from how she had been at the ball. Then, she was so put together, very formal and elegant, but now she seemed a lot more normal, for lack of a better word. Like a real person, rather than simply an extension of the house name to which she belonged.

«I didn't have time to go into the details on the whole curse,» I said. «It's alright. Suffice to say that the form you saw last night is my "other half", so to speak, and the rest of the time I'm like this.» I inclined my head in a shallow bow. «It's nice to meet you for real, Lady val Lunedor. To what do I owe the pleasure?»

"Oh, please," she said, moving away from the carriage to stand right in front of me. "This isn't a business meeting, there's no need to be so formal. Just 'Florence' will do fine." She rubbed her hands together, looking out at the empty castle grounds. "As to the occasion, I simply elected to stop here before returning home. I wanted to let you know what happened last night after you left. But I also thought it might be a good idea for us to get a chance to meet without a crazed vicar's secret plans bearing down on us."

«I don't know if I'd say the coming days are going to be any less chaotic than last night, but if you have the time, I wouldn't mind a short break from the planning and preparation I've been doing today,» I said. I glanced around at the still largely ruined castle. «Ah, we have chairs inside, where the place is a little less…broken.»

"That's quite alright," said Florence. "I happen to enjoy the outdoors, and the charm of this old place." She gave a small beckoning wave as she walked away from her carriage, meandering around the courtyard while I followed.

"The unpleasant but important news first," she began. "The ball didn't last much longer after the ritual ceremony. It only took long enough for the vicar to accuse the city council of treason for 'conspiring with the burgomaster', and officially declare himself regent. When I left town this morning, I caught some of his templar posting notices on corners of the change in leadership. He is popular here, he gives the townsfolk an enemy to blame for the plague, and an assurance that they can make it through the trials we face. I doubt there will be resistance to his takeover beyond the Old Quarter."

She gave me a relieved look. "At the very least, it doesn't seem like he's interested in coming after you."

«Huh? Really?»

"If he was, there would have already been a bounty posted for your heads. He is a man deeply convinced of his own superiority and worth. I think that he believes you are already defeated as adversaries. Fleeing last night was a good play; it may have let him convince himself that you were too afraid to stand up to him."

I decided against revealing the degree that real fear had played a part in that decision, but Florence was right. If he thought we were busy cowering, he wouldn't expect retaliation. We could use that. «Yeah—of course,» I said. «Someone with that much pride, it's easy to provoke them.»

"And the vicar has more pride than anyone else I've ever met," said Florence.

«Did he make any plans?» I asked as we walked over the bridge and into the nascent garden. «Any announcements?»

"Not directly," said Florence. "He has such a flowery way of speaking, he rarely says anything not couched in extraneous adjectives or metaphor. All he did was reiterate his prediction of a 'winnowing'. It doesn't take much deduction to realise he means to kill many people. The only question is who, and how."

«I did get that impression the first time he said it,» I agreed. «But it's too vague to do anything about right now….»

Florence gave a half smile and patted my shoulder. "There is only so much we can do, whether dragon, dragon-knight, or ordinary human," she said. "Hopefully this information will give you the time you need to concoct a counterattack." She looked off into the distance before snapping her fingers and digging through a bag at her side. "Speaking of…."

She pulled out an envelope, stamped with a red wax seal depicting an overflowing goblet. "I had a hunch that you would be seeking out the scholars of Lynnmore. They might prove useful as allies, or as aid if you're planning on finding and helping the Pure Serpent, wherever it's gone. They can be quite secretive, but House val Lunedor has a strong relationship with them. This is a letter of introduction. It should at least let you get an audience with Provost Dulin, the head of the college."

I gingerly took the paper, careful not to disturb the seal too much with my claws. «Thank you very much,» I said. «You had it exactly right, too. Glad to know my idea wasn't based on smoke and vapour.»

She nodded. She stopped in the path, looking down at the sprouts of a marigold that was poking up through the soil. "That's business," she said quietly. "So. I had not known that you were a dragon yourself. I thought…I had though that the strange—I mean, the shape of your face, it was—"

«It's alright,» I said, holding up a hand to stop her before she fumbled over her words any more. Business was done and her poise went with it, it seemed. She was reminding me a fair bit of Griffin. «I understand. It's a curse. I used to be human, but that part of me has been worn away a little.» I sniffed, focussing hard on keeping myself from getting too emotional. «I'm a dragon most of the time now, and some kind of…freakish hybrid the rest of the time.»

Florence's gaze oddly seemed to sharpen when I described my curse. She looked into the space in front of her, analysing some thought I couldn't see. "I see. I'm terribly sorry that you're going through something like this. I can imagine how difficult it must be to lose something as close to you as your body."

«It's not just my body…» I added ruefully. «My head's kind of a mess, too. Apparently dragons have strong instincts that I'm…having some trouble coming to terms with.»

"You seem to have it under control," Florence said with a raise of her eyebrow.

«For now,» I replied. «It's harder when I'm angry. Harder to close off the voice in my ear.» I sighed, leaning forward until I was laying down on the ground next to Florence. «I'm mostly afraid.»

"Afraid of loss?"

«Afraid of…becoming.» I scratched at the ground. «Which is a sort of loss, I guess.»

Florence nodded. "I understand the feeling. Perhaps not in the same way as you, but I've faced more than a few partings with my past self as well. I've always taken comfort in tea."

«Tea?»

"It's not a terribly popular drink in this region, but I've always been fond of it. It's relaxing for the mind, and it's made me think about change a great deal. See, tea is brewed in the same way, letting leaves steep in hot water. It can be green, black, or have additions to the blend, but freshly brewed tea always has a similar character to it. But many people don't like it as-is, and continue adding things afterward. Sugar, milk, honey, a drop of lemon juice…I've tried a number of combinations and heard of even more. But it's all still the same cup of tea, underneath. It never loses that inherent character. All the alterations can add flourish to the flavour and change its appearance, but they can't take the tea out of the tea."

I snorted. «Didn't you just criticise Vicar Barbosa for his flowery metaphors?»

Her small smile fell away. "Well, I—" she started, abruptly cutting herself off before trying again. "Sometimes a metaphor is warranted. I'm sorry if it doesn't compare well to what you're going through, it's only that that thought has helped me before. I only wanted to provide some perspective."

«I know,» I said. «I'm sorry, I didn't mean to insult you. I'm just not sure that what you've said fits. I feel like if we're going with this metaphor, what happened to me is more like if the cup of tea got knocked over, spilling out onto the ground until there's nothing left but the stains inside the cup.» I tapped the side of my head. «I'm not an idiot, I changed a lot before the curse. I wasn't the same person back then as I was five years before. It's less like a normal change, and more that I feel like I'm disintegrating.»

"Ah…." Florence shrugged. "Perhaps resisting a softer change is making it more violent than it ought to be. I wish I could give you better advice, but, well…."

«I wouldn't wish for anyone else to have experience with this situation,» I said. «It's fine.» I glanced up at the sun. «I guess you probably want to make it to wherever you're headed before nightfall, hm?»

Florence heaved a heavy sigh and nodded. "Yes. Home is some distance away, it would be best if I left soon. I hope we can meet again. You've been a very fascinating person to talk to, Sir Belfry."

I furrowed my brow at the wording, and she seemed to realise the slightly off nature of it at the same time. She awkwardly turned and started hurriedly walking back towards the carriage before a memory suddenly burst back into my head and I bounded after her.

«Wait!» I said, rummaging through my pack for a second letter, one I'd carried for a week. «I nearly forgot. I was asked to give you this. I meant to at the ball, but things got a little too hectic.»

I handed over the envelope from the laundry. Florence's look of curiosity vanished when she took it, her face going pale. "I see. Who gave you this?" Her façade was back, and her voice was dead and level.

«A laundry,» I answered truthfully. I could read into her expression enough to be deeply concerned about what exactly I had handed her, and what that symbol on the front meant. «Ms. Malvina's, specifically, in the Cascade Ward.»

She nodded slowly. Almost…fearfully. "Okay. Thank you for getting this to me. I will be on my way now."

She stiffly turned and climbed back into her carriage, staring straight ahead as she closed the door and the coachman turned the vehicle around and pulled out of the castle gate, leaving me alone in the courtyard with a sinking feeling and a deep regret for not having opened that letter myself when I had the chance.

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