Rustam looked at the wall with all Sir Oren and Ignacia’s notes. Thanks to Prince Phenex and his group, they learned a lot more about fusion magic and how it could be used. But now that left the question of how the creators of the drakes were making them. The Archfiend prince had been more than happy to tell them everything he knew and what was needed to make such a magic work.

To think that someone out there was using such magic to merge other animals and dragons into one being. Prince Phenex explained that dragon blood would be more than enough to do this because of its magical properties. But to do so meant that a dragon was still needed. But there was no way someone managed to capture one and use it for these heinous creations...was there?

“Don’t think too hard. Your mind might blow up.”

Ignacia walked up next to him. The dark circles under her eyes diminished after she slept for half a day, but they were still pretty dark. She was still wearing her nightdress but now had her usual hat and cloak on, and nibbled on a small wedge of cheese.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“I feel amazing,” she replied as her green eyes looked at the notes. “So, fusion magic, huh? That’s something I haven’t run into before.”

Rustam chuckled at that. “You don’t seem surprised.”

Ignacia shrugged. “I’m not now that we know they’re not real. Now, I’m questioning who is making them and why. Anybody come to mind who would want to harm you and your family?”

“My uncle,” Rustam replied without hesitation but laughed after a few seconds. “But he wouldn’t do something like this. He and my father have their disagreements-”

“Arguments,” Ignacia corrected.

“But my uncle still supports my father-”

“That’s questionable.”

“He still does his royal duties-”

“Only to try and undermine your father because he thinks he would be a better king.”

“And he always puts the people first-”

“Full-blooded Dwarves only. Everyone else, including half-Dwarves like me, can fuck off and die for all he cares.”

“Ignacia! Please stop cutting me off,” Rustam said. “My uncle might have his faults, but even he wouldn’t do something as low as being a kinslayer.”

“Kin have killed other kin for lesser reasons,” Ignacia pointed out without taking her eyes off the wall. “But your uncle isn’t smart enough to create something like this. The man can barely create a small flame. Creating creatures like this is far too advanced for his small brain.”

Rustam frowned, wanting to defend his uncle, but even he knew she was right. “So, what are you thinking?”

“You and your family have enemies everywhere. It’s hard to point in a specific direction,” she replied.

“One could argue you and your family would want to harm us,” he jested.

Ignacia giggled. “One could, but my family has long served yours since before history was recorded. We’ve no reason to break faith now. And the only harm I’ll ever cause you is the occasional bonk on the head when you’re being dumb.”

“Did you forget you threatened to set Rexus’ room on fire?” he asked.

“Which time? I’ve lost count.” She straightened her hat and huffed. “That’s it. I’m going to the temple to pray. Maybe the Incarnate of wisdom will give me a sign that points in the right direction. The sooner we figure out who’s after you and your family, the better. Goodness, if someone were to usurp the throne, I’d lose the court wizard position. And I’m not letting that happen!”

“Yes, you must leave your mark on Oretierra. It’ll probably be a lime-shaped mark,” Rustam stated with a smile.

“Damn right it’ll be lime-shaped,” she agreed. “What do you say? Trip to the temple? Might do us some good.”

Rustam nodded. “Sure. We’ll meet there in an hour.”

The temple was surprisingly empty today. Rustam knew many had heard of the attack on the village and wondered what was happening. He’d even heard some people saying they saw the Bronze Horror flying around. If that were true, he wondered what could’ve bothered the dragon. Ever since the first dragon attack, two more happened when he was fifteen and another when he was eighteen. Yamanaereus stopped both attacks and had only been seen a few times after the last one.

Rustam looked down at his pendant that he usually kept under his shirt. After learning he had a spike from Yamanaereus, Lady Brunhilda made a necklace with a little cage to hold in it. He wore it every day and usually felt incomplete without it on. Sometimes he wondered why the Bronze Horror gave it to him, but he was grateful for the gift. It made him feel like he had a special bond with the dragon.

“Praying to Draklani again?” Ignacia asked from behind.

“I suppose I should pray to the others, huh?” He looked up at the large white opal statue of the goddess he was supposed to be praying to. Draklani was the Dwarven Incarnate who created the dragons and the one he prayed to the most after Pilarode, the Dwarven Incarnate of strength and the arts. “Do you ever wonder if they hear us?”

Ignacia shrugged. “Sometimes I think they do. I’d like to think so. Doesn’t hurt to pray. Who’s to say Draklani herself isn’t watching over you? Maybe she sent the Bronze Horror that day the first dragon attacked. I’d like to think unlike the other Incarnates, who more than half the world prays to, our Incarnates hear us more.”

Rustam laughed and tucked his pendant back under his shirt. “I can only hope they do. I just ask that they watch over everyone I care for.” He put a feather down on the altar in front of Draklani’s statue and bowed. “That’s all I want. Did you already pray to Solon?”

“I’m pretty sure the Incarnate of magic, knowledge, and wisdom is tired of hearing my prayers,” she griped as she glanced over to the statue carved out of lapis lazuli. “I just need some kind of sign…”

“It’ll come to you,” he assured her. He walked over to the carnelian statue of Pilarode. Unlike Draklani, who looked serene, peaceful, and soft, Pilarode stood tall (or about as tall as a Dwarf could look), proud and strong with her sword in front of her and wearing her armor. She looked very much like a warrior who was ready to take on the world. More so than her brothers even though she too was the youngest of triplets. Rustam always felt he had a kinship with her from that, but he could only wish to stand as proud as she did.

He put a small wooden figure of her on her altar and bowed. There wasn’t anything he wanted except to just have the strength to protect the ones he loved when the time came. He just hoped it wasn’t anytime soon. His father had plans that would take time to set in motion. Rustam could only hope that no more major attacks would happen.

“Come on. Let’s go see Grandmother,” Ignacia suggested. They walked out of the temple and headed to the castle forge where Lady Brunhilda worked. Ignacia also wanted to let her grandmother see she was okay. She didn’t remember much of the past few days, but she knew she scared her grandparents and friends again. Igy was fully aware that once she got obsessed with something, she wouldn’t get proper sleep for the next few days. In this case: figuring out the truth about the drakes. Her mind wouldn’t rest until she found the answer. Of course, she figured it out when she was sleep-deprived and out of her wits.

She should probably contact Daelyniel and let him know she’s okay.

Rustam saw the look on his friend’s face and nudged her arm. “Hey, don’t worry. Everything is okay for now.”

“For now, but not forever. Just when we solve one problem, another comes up,” she said. “It’s my duty to keep you, your family, and our home safe. Whoever wants all of you dead won’t wait.”

“I think you’re thinking too much about this,” Rustam tried to soothe her.

“And you’re not thinking enough!” Ignacia shouted, puffing her cheeks. “This isn’t a fantasy story, Rustam! I feel like something big is coming and we’re not ready to take it on yet.”

Rustam patted her shoulder in comfort. “I know, but we need to focus on the now. Like helping the survivors of the recent attack and seeing how we can help my father with his plans to better protect the towns and villages.”

When they reached the forge, Lady Brunhilda smiled and waved to them. “Hey, kids!”

“Grandmother, we’re not kids anymore,” Ignacia whined playfully.

“Compared to an old lady like me, you’re still pups,” the older Dwarf woman joked and flicked her granddaughter’s hat. “Glad to see you’re okay, my little zesty lime. You had me and your grandfather worried for a minute there. All that blabbering about fake cheese and real cheese. You’re lucky Dael can translate your sleep-deprived talk. If I didn’t know what I know, I’d swear the two of you were meant for each other!”

Rustam’s eyes widened and looked at Ignacia. “You told her about that?”

Brunhilda bonked him on the head with a rolled-up paper. “She didn’t tell me anything, boy! It’s obvious to anyone paying attention. And my husband and I have been watching over all of you all your lives. If he ever says anything about it, let him know we support him.”

“We will!” Ignacia sat on an empty spot on the table. “I don’t know why he hasn’t said anything. I hope he doesn’t think we’ll disown him for being attracted to men.”

“Give him time,” Brunhilda told her. “Dwarves are more open-minded to same-gender couples now, but there are still some who aren’t. They might not say it out loud, but their actions say a lot.”

Rustam nodded in agreement. “He’ll tell us eventually. We’ll just wait and continue to support him as best as we can.”

“Speaking of support…” Brunhilda walked over to another table and picked up a sword in its sheathe. After making sure it was the right one, she handed it to Rustam. “This is for you.”

The prince looked at her and at the sword in confusion. “What…?”

“I put in for a special order and the Archfiend prince delivered it before we left. Refused the pay. Said it was a gift for his new friend,” Brunhilda revealed and wiped the sweat from her brow. “That man must really like you if he was willing to foot the bill.”

Rustam pulled the sword out to get a good look at it. It felt lighter than the steel swords he used, but he didn’t know what kind of metal it was. It looked similar to silver, but there was something different about it. “What is this?”

“It’s a sword, silly,” Ignacia jested.

Brunhilda nodded and laughed. “Not just a sword, Your Highness. It’s a mithril sword. Lighter but stronger than steel. It can only be found on Periculosum, the home realm of Chthonians. Very rare and expensive. We couldn’t help but notice you struggled a bit with swinging normal steel swords. Galenova, Dael, and Igy set out to find a replacement metal and asked me to put in an order when they discovered it. It’s taken months, but Prince Phenex delivered it and said he’d pay for it. Also, he said to give you this note when I gave it to you.” She pulled a note out of her apron pocket and gave it to him.

When he opened the letter, Rustam swore he could hear Prince Phenex’s excited voice reading it to him.

Rustam folded the note and put it in his pocket. He looked at the sword for a few more seconds before sheathing it. “Spar, Igy?”

She grinned and hopped off the table. “You’re on!”