#nazrun

<> Nazrun accompanied him back to his small house. He stood in the doorway and fidgeted, as if caught between following Vincor in and keeping him company or leaving the historian to his thoughts. "Do you want to come in for dinner?" Vincor asked, staring at the pantry. "Do you want me to?" Vincor looked back to the doorway, noting the emptiness in the house between the kitchen and the door. "Yes." Nazrun walked in and shut the door behind him. He watched Vincor staring, face blank, into the pantry for a few minutes before he walked up and plucked the knife from between the historian's fingers. "I think you should sit down, Vincor. It's been a long day." "Yes. Sure. That sounds like a good idea." Vincor said, and took a seat at the table. He held out his empty hand to Nazrun and looked surprised when the knife wasn't in it. "When did you... Damn Couriers." "Really, with how distracted you were, I'm surprised you even remembered you had it at all." Vincor was silent for a minute, listening to the sound of water boiling on the stove. "What do you know about Fairy Rings?" He said eventually. Nazrun paused from peeling potatoes and looked out the window. "People used to think they were magical. That they were places where Fae and elves and other tricky spirits led humans to entrap them within their confines forever. It's said that once you start dancing in a Fairy Ring, you can never stop." "I see," Vincor said. "I've never really heard of them." With a shrug, Nazrun dumped several vegetables into the broth. A warm, rich smell began to waft through the kitchen. "I've only read a few articles on them." Vincor crossed his arms and put his head on them and listened to the sound of a stew simmering. The archive downstairs almost certainly had several books on the topic, but they were strewn across a variety of langages. Translating them would take days, and that was the kind of time that Sheryl did not have. With her missing, fate unknown, every second was precious. If only there was a way to easily dig through the information, translating only what was important, so that he could understand fully the circumstances of his daughter's disappearance.  Suddenly, as a bowl of beef and vegetable stew was placed in front of him, Vincor sat up. "Nazrun, you're a Courier; what languages are you fluent in?" "A couple," Nazrun said, sitting across from him with his own bowl. "Why?" "Are they - I know that two hundred years can drastically change a language, but are they close enough that you could translate something from before Ragnarok?" Nazrun stared at him, wide-eyed. "You have physical copies of some of those books?" He looked shocked, the food before him forgotten. Vincor's mouth snapped shut and he grimaced at himself for forgetting to watch his tongue. Mentally, he chastised himself for his transparent expressions, as well. Then again, what was the point of trying to be subtle around a Courier anyway? They were just going to see right through you no matter what you did. "I..." he started, and it didn't feel right. "Marie found it. It had been sitting in the old archives for years, but she managed to move it out here when she became Chief Historian." " 'It'?" Vincor fell silent, unsure how to describe the object, the reason that the Royal archives were no longer attached to the main castle, the reason why he'd chosen to sell his family house and move out here when they wed. He took a sip of his stew, found it delicious, and realized that he was famished. "After dinner, I'll show you," He said, and took a bite out of his bread. "It's easier that way." <> The library lay underground, past a thick steel door that separated it from the living quarters above. Preventative measures, Vincor explained, as they descended the stone staircase. If anything happened above ground, the records down here would be shielded and safe. "That's clever," Nazrun said, looking around as they walked into the library. Vincor flipped a small switch on the side, and the lights came on with a quiet hum. "Electric lights too? That's rare; I've only ever seen them in palaces, and even then not very often." "Open fire in a library is a fairly stupid idea." "What next?" Despite himself, Vincor couldn't help but grin a little bit. He stood in the center of the wooden floor, where an old book was on display in a small glass case. He opened the case and removed the book to reveal a cache hidden under it; he reached into the hollow center of the podium, almost the entire length of his arm, and managed to extract a small silver cube. The center of the cube was transparent, and when Vincor held it up to the light he could see the blue magic swirling inside of it. It was thick, like liquid smoke, and he held it close to his chest. Nazrun looked at the artifact with wide, green eyes. Magical artifacts were rare as it was, and this one was in such good condition that even without any magical training, Vincor was still able to activate it. He turned it around in his hands, pressing against its sides with his fingers. A few experimental pokes and it stayed as was, but when Vincor tapped a specific place, the cube began to hum in his hands and the magic swirled more vigerously. He pressed against that place harder, positioned a thumb on the corner, and the magic turned a deeper blue before snaking its way out of the cube. It hovered in the air for a moment, a coil of dark blue, before all at once it compressed and morphed into the vague, ghostly shape of a young librarian. "Welcome back, Marie," the figure said, looking up at Vincor. "Me today," Vincor said. "Welcome back, Vincor," it corrected. "How may I help you today?" "Search for any files about Fairy Rings," Vincor said. The ghostly spirit bowed and disappeared and in their place was a small bundle of books and folded-up newspapers. Vincor reached into the image and selected one book out of the pile, a book of myths and stories written in Late Italian. The book opened up on its own and floated a little higher than the rest of the bundle. Vincor reached up and flipped through the page until an image caught his eye. "Nazrun, here, can you translate this?" Nazrun spoke, for the first time since Vincor had shown him the cube. "Why bother having me translate it? I've seen these things before; they sometimes come with that ability. Can't you just ask it to translate?" Vincor frowned and ran his fingers over the ghostly image. The book in front of him flickered a bit, and some pages flipped, but it didn't do anything. "I think each magical device is different. I don't know if this one can do it." Nazrun tried anyway. "Translate," he said, and pressed his fingers against a corner of the cube. The image flickered, and the same voice that greeted them from the small spirit earlier said, "I'm sorry, I can't do that right now." "Pity," Nazrun murmured, "Worth a shot though." He squinted at the floating, translucent book for a moment, then began to translate as he read. "Fairy Rings are said to be a trickster's cage. The Fae lure unsuspecting children and dim-witted adults into the confines of the ring and then trap them there forever. Those who manage to break out find that decades have gone past while they were merrymaking within the ring." "Decades," Vincor said, and closed his eyes. "Does it say anything else?" Nazrun scanned the document. "No," he finally said. "Nothing really important. Just some old folk tales about them." Vincor raised his hand up over the cube and waved it in a strange pattern of circles. The Italian book disappeared, and they returned to their choices. "What about this one?" Vincor asked, choosing an Archaic German newspaper. "Siblings playing in the woods. The boy disappears, the girl says he's been taken by fairies." Nazrun shifted, uncomfortable, as he read the rest of the article. "A thorough investigation and two months later, they find the - are you sure you want to hear this?" "I'll be fine; what does it say?" "They find the child's bones buried in the center of a Fairy Ring. Water from a nearby stream had washed away some of the dirt, and a skull was discovered by passers-by. Forensic evidence suggested head and neck trauma, though it was hard to tell at that point." He waved his hand again, and the article disappeared back into the clump. "Here," Vincor said, and picked out a Japanese textbook on mythology. "What about this one?" "Fairy rings aren't really a big part of Eastern mythology," Nazrun started, but watched as Vincor flipped through the book anyway. "Mushrooms are considered to be good for longevity, but I've never heard anything about - " He paused as Vincor retreated a few pages, back to a picture of a paper crane, not unlike the one sitting in the flowers on his very table. "What do you know about these?" "Paper cranes symbolize good health. If you fold a thousand of them, they're said to be able to cure any sickness." "I got one, recently."   Nazrun grabbed him by the shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle. "Are you kidding?" He asked, and sounded too excited, even to Vincor. "Who even does that any more?" "I don't know. I thought you might. It didn't come with a name or anything." "Let me see. That's the strangest thing I've ever heard." "Goodbye," Vincor said to the small cube, and it responded in kind. The liquid smoke retreated back into the cube, and he could feel the magic stop humming between his fingers. The cube grew cold again; Vincor replaced it back in its small hiding place, and they left the small library and ascended up the stairs back into modern day. <> The flowers had started to brown at the edges, little brown rings around the otherwise pristine whiteness of the petals. The paper crane was much more visible now, and Nazrun didn't wait to reach in and pluck it from where it perched. "Wow," he said, and turned it around in his hands. He looked it over for a moment before he unfolded it. Like before, there was nothing on the inside. Nazrun scrutinized both sides of the creased white paper, but eventually he too gave up and folded it back together. "It came with this, too," Vincor said, handing over the card. " 'We're sorry for your loss'?" Nazrun tilted his head, perusing the card as he'd done the crane. "Who's 'we'?" "I don't know," Vincor said again. His heart dropped at the confused and fascinated look on Nazrun's face. "No name, remember?" Vincor would be the first to admit that the mysteries of a Courier's job duties far eluded him. Couriers appeared for months at a time, and then they were gone for who knows how long. In the ten years that he'd known Nazrun, he'd seen the man living in the kingdom for a total of about two. Courier assignments could span years and take them to the furthest corners of the world. It took little imagination to understand why they weren't terribly popular, even among the members of court. Nazrun admitting that he had no clue what was going on shouldn't have been this disappointing. But he'd been all over the world, and it had always seemed that, no matter the topic, Nazrun always had something substantive - a small fact, a lttle anecdote - to contribute. That being said, the Courier wasn't a font of easy answers, but Vincor had hoped, and now the road ahead just looked that much longer. "What 'loss' are they talking about? Someone get word of Marie a little late?" Nazrun winced again and began to flick the edges of the card against the pad of his thumb. The stammering apology was already starting to work his way out of his mouth, but Vincor wasn't listening. Instead, he'd sat up, despondence pushed aside for the moment for a sudden jolt of insight. He'd received the flowers before this incident. They had been odd at the time, but now they just seemed suspicious. He picked one rose out of the vase and twisted it around in his fingers, searching for a clue that might have warned him of his daughter's disappearance, if that's what they were meant to do. "I'm going to visit the florist tomorrow," Vincor announced, interrupting Nazrun's stream of babbling. "That might be a good idea." Nazrun said. He picked up the paper crane again. "Do you mind if I take this?" "Go ahead. See if you can find anything else about it." The Courier tucked the small, paper bird into his pocket. "I should get going, then." He said, and got up to head for the door. Vincor grabbed a tail of his red and silver cloak as he passed. "Tell no one about the artifact," he said. Sanctioned by the King or not, magic of that calibur was still very rare and very illegal, and he wouldn't allow anyone malicious to destroy Marie's finding. It might not have worked all the time, and it was oft for the magic to simply stop channeling if he didn't hold it at just the right angle, and it was probably going to break soon, but he would've protected it with his life if Sheryl didn't need him to be alive to save her. "Hey, I'm a Courier; keeping secrets is what I do." Nazrun said, smiling. No, Vincor wanted to say, collecting secrets and whispering them to your employer is what you do. King Niall might already know about the archive, but most of the court didn't, and a Courier's loyalty was always hard to measure. Another pang of guilt shot through his stomach at that thought, and he closed his eyes. Nazrun had just spent the better part of two days helping him, and this was his thanks? "Vincor," Nazrun said, putting a hand on his shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Are you okay?" "Fine. Just tired." He looked up and tried to smile and maybe got the ends of his mouth to rise a little bit. He stood up to walk Nazrun to the door, but the Courier pushed him back down in his chair. "Rest, then. You'll need your energy. I'll let you know if I find anything new." "Thank you," he replied. At the door, Nazrun gave him a small bow of the head, then closed the door and once the sound of footsteps had disappeared, Vincor was left with his solitude and silence. <>

The translated pages were lying on the kitchen table when Nazrun returned late that afternoon, the bookmarks made into paper stars. The Courier picked one up, turning it over in his fingers. "This is cute," he said. "Did Sheryl teach you how to do this?" "Did you find her?" Vincor asked. Since he'd woken up he'd been awaiting news, good or bad. Nazrun shifted, and Vincor's heart plummeted. "No, not exactly." "What do you mean by that?" "I found this," Nazrun said, and held out a small chainmail sleeve. The ringlets had been popped open at the shoulder, some more jagged than others. Vincor closed his eyes and felt sick again. A thousand scenarios popped into his mind. It was cold comfort that Nazrun hadn't brought back a body. It didn't mean anything, either, said nothing about where Sheryl might be. With shaking hands, Vincor lifted the chainmail sleeve from Nazrun's palm and looked at the interlocking pattern of chains, as if searching for a clue within the reflections of the metal. "Is she - " Vincor started, and couldn't bear to finish the sentence. "I don't think so," Nazrun said. "But I don't know where she could have gone." "Where did you find this?" Nazrun turned to the door, beckoning Vincor forward. "Follow me; it's easier to just show you." <> They ran into Captain Annalise on the way, or perhaps it was more accurate to say that Annalise ran into them, striding purposefully up to the two of them. Nazrun saw her approach and shirked behind Vincor, standing apprehensively behind the historian as the Captain of the Guard advanced. She was flanked by her two Commanders, each giving Vincor the same dismissive look the other knights in the training area did. He chose to ignore them, turning his attention instead to Annalise. "I've heard that my squire has gone missing," she said. "Yes," Vincor said. "I heard you sent her home because she wasn't feeling well." Momentarily, so quickly that it could've passed in the span of a quick blink, a look of pain flit across Annalise's usually-harsh expression. "With the suddenness of Marie's sickness, I thought to be cautious. I would never have guessed - " "Annalise, I understand. Don't - " One of Annalise's Commanders stepped forward, hand on his sword. "That's Captain Annalise, historian." "- worry; there was no way you could have known." Vincor ignored him in his entirety without so much as a blink. When he'd been Captain of the Guard, this Commander was a sniveling squire far too eager to climb ranks to worry about the consequences of his actions. He'd managed to worm his way to Annalise's side, but then again, she was always more concerned with the ends, not so much the means. "If you have any clue where she might have gone, though..." "I don't, unfortunately. I'm so sorry, Vincor; I should've walked her home; I knew she wasn't feeling well, but she said she was fine to go on her own." She paused, "I'm a fool to let her go." Vincor stepped forward as Annalise broke eye contact and stared at the ground some distance in front of her. The Commander who had tried to interrupt them before drew his sword and took a battle stance between the two of them. In one swift, almost absent-minded motion, Vincor grabbed the man's sword wrist and twisted it, stopping only when he heard a nasty crack and the clatter of metal on the ground. The other Commander didn't move or speak, and only dared to help his friend up after Vincor had passed them. "Interesting choice for Commanders," Vincor mused, as he put his hand on Annalise's pauldron. He wanted to give it a light squeeze, like Erina had given him, but it woudn't have been felt through the metal and padding. "Not the best bushel to pick from," Annalise responded. Her expression was less grim at the reassuring shoulder pat, but she still lowered her head. "Vincor, I'm so sor - " "You don't." Vincor said, a bit more loudly than he meant to at first. Then, more quietly, "You don't have anything to be sorry for, Annalise." "Let me know if there's anything I can do." Vincor nodded, and she turned to leave, only looking back to bark an order at her simpering Commanders to hurry up. "He broke my wrist!" One of them screeched. Without looking at him, Annalise responded, "Let that be a lesson to you for drawing your weapon against an unarmed civilian. Now hurry up and get to the infirmary; I don't need dead weight." <> When Annalise was out of sight, a voice behind and above him said, quietly, "Have they gone?" Vincor looked behind him and saw nothing there. He looked up and just barely saw a cautious pair of green eyes peeking out from the branches of a tree. "They're gone. What are you doing?" The eyes disappeared, and a few moments later Nazrun tumbled out of the tree with less grace than was probably intended. He landed in the dirt with an "Ow!" but stood up quickly enough to let Vincor know he wasn't hurt too badly. Strange, he thought Couriers were supposed to be acrobatic and much less clumsy. "I was hiding," Nazrun said. "What else?" "Does Annalise even know who you are?" "Captain Annalise? No, probably not." Nazrun brushed himself off best as he could, and Vincor helped him pat down the part of his back he couldn't reach. "The Knights in general don't like us very much, that's all. That fellow whose wrist you broke, he doesn't like me especially." Frowning, Vincor motioned for them to continue walking. "Why?" Nazrun looked around, as if to make absolutely, double-sure that no Knights happened to wander nearby. "He has this strange notion that I've slept with his wife." "Have you?" Vincor prodded, growing increasingly irritated. "That's not the point." Nazrun looked around the corner, scanning the area. Vincor looked up and took in his surroundings too, breaking away from his own thoughts for a moment to get his own bearings. They were back near the training grounds, but far enough away that he could only barely hear the sound of metal clashing against itself, and only when the wind died down. They walked under a gilded archway entwined with blue ivy and multicolored roses, and Vincor knew they were in the Royal Gardens. He used to come here with Marie back when he was courting her. As Captain of the Guard, he had access even when it was closed to the public, and she would sit for hours watching the rabbits nibble at the carrots. They'd grown bold since Princess Erina convinced her father to stop hunting them (that's what he would say to passers-by, that the Princess had convinced him, when in fact when she was eight she actually just cried so hard upon seeing Niall holding a dead rabbit by the neck that she made herself sick for three days, and he'd never had the heart to shoot one again). They were so bold that sometimes, if you were patient enough, a couple might wander up to you in timid curiosity. Marie, of course, was always patient enough. Sheryl loved the Garden too, though her access was much more restricted. It was rare that she could ever visit, between her squire training and the limited time the Garden was open to the public. Vincor could see her being dismissed - maybe she wasn't really sick, but just tired from a bad night's sleep - and deciding to take advantage of the hour and walk home through the garden. They were headed in the general direction of the training grounds, after all, and Vincor imagined her path from the equipment storage through the other side of the Gardens. But that just made her disappearance that much more baffling; she would've been in broad daylight, with visitors all around. Who could've taken her, struggling as she probably would have been, judging from the condition of her sleeve, and have nobody see? "Here," Nazrun said, and ducked into an expanse of trees so thick Vincor wasn't sure he was going to fit. Here was where the hunting grounds had spilled into the garden. He could see where the metal of the grate was twisted and bent inwards. Here was probably how the rabbits had gotten through, too, though why Sheryl would be back here was beyond his reasoning. Or how Nazrun even found this. Twisting his body sideways and sucking in his gut a little more than he would ever admit, Vincor managed to squeeze between the trees and follow Nazrun through the thick forest. He tripped on a root and nearly went sprawling, but managed to cling for balance on another branch. He looked up and Nazrun was even further, not bothering to look back. In his stomach, Vincor's ire began to boil. How could Sheryl possibly have gotten out here? Why would she come out here? She was small for her age, and awfully thin, but if she was sick, there was no way she could get this far in the woods. "If this is some sort of prank," Vincor growled in warning. Surprised, Nazrun finally turned around. "Why would you think it's a prank?" A hundred ways to answer that question, and none that wouldn't likely piss off his guide. Because it's so unlikely that she made it out here. Because there's no reason for her to be here. Because you're a Courier, and because you're a Courier and I used to be Captain of the Guard I've never fully trusted you. Vincor winced as a small pang of guilt shot through his stomach. He'd first met Nazrun - what, ten years ago? Something like that, just when he noticed a new face meeting regularly with King Niall. Nazrun stood out - skin his color wasn't common, not as far North as they were, and he had an accent that was unplaceable. So he'd introduced himself, and the other man was surprised he was being approached by a Knight at all (much less Captain of the Guard,) but accepted his hospitality, regardless. Nazrun was a pleasant enough acquaintance, at least until Vincor overheard his Knights whispering about the new green-eyed, caramel-skinned Courier who had the uncanny ability to find anyone, no matter where in the world they were. Vincor had been angry at first, that his friend had been hiding that secret. The next time he saw Nazrun, he'd intended to call him out on his deception, how could you pretend to be so open and kind when really you were working as a rat. You know the reputation your folk have around the Knights, and you were being all buddy-buddy with me, anyway. That had been the plan, except the next time he met Nazrun, the Courier had a friend with him, a raven-haired, blue-eyed beauty who held out her hand and introduced herself as Marie. "Vincor, why do you think this is a prank?" Curious green eyes, closer than Vincor expected, but not close enough to really invade his personal space. He looked down, the words and anger deflating in his chest. "I don't think it's a prank. I'm sorry, I misspoke. It's just hard to believe that Sheryl would be all the way out here." "She might not have been. I just found her sleeve here, remember?" Nazrun thought for a second, then winced, shoulders going almost as high as his ears. "I didn't mean that - I'm sure she's fine, just that - you wanted to - I'm so sorry, Vincor," he finally finished, leaving all his other sentences behind. With as much willpower as he could muster, Vincor pushed away the image of a leopard dragging a small body along the ground, breaking open the chain links on rocks, and then disappearing into the trees and leaving behind the small token. No blood on the sleeve, remember? But that didn't stop him from checking again, every tiny bit of the metal latticework to make sure. "Let's just keep going," Vincor said. He wanted to keep an eye on the trees above, but ended up tripping over a root as a result. Nazrun had forged ahead of him again, checking back only every few minutes to make sure that he was still following. Again, doubt and fear began to seep into Vincor's stomach the further they walked. If he looked behind him, the Garden would have been long out of view, and the only light was coming from the slanted beams of the late afternoon sun. "Are you sure we're going the right way?" Vincor asked, bending a branch out of his way. "You're sure you're remembering correctly?" "We're here," Nazrun responded. He gestured forward, and Vincor looked at him, frowning for a moment, before squeezing through the last line of trees. He landed in a small clearing in the forest, the trees breaking in a tight circle. "In here? This clearing?" Vincor asked. Nazrun nodded and stepped four or five paces to the side. He pointed at a patch of dirt directly in front of him. "Right here, to be exact." Vincor walked forward, keeping his eyes on the ground for any possible other clues. As he stepped close to where Nazrun was, he thought he saw a small creature underneath his foot and he hopped back to avoid it. The "creature" didn't move, and Vincor leaned down to examine it closer. It was a small, round mushroom, white against the dark green of the forest floor. If it had been brown, he likely would have missed it. There was another next to it, and next to that one too. Vincor looked up and traced his fingers in the air in the shape of a large circle, running around the inner ring of the clearing. Where Nazrun was pointing, was just barely outside this hypothetical ring. And true enough, as Vincor carefully made his way over, a small white mushroom poked out from the grass just next to the patch of dirt where the chainmail sleeve had been. "They're called Fairy Rings," Nazrun said, pointing to the shape the mushrooms made. Vincor had heard of them before, but only vaguely. One of the old tales that Marie used to tell Sheryl for bedtime stories, and maybe he'd overheard the term accidentally. If Marie was telling stories about them, then there had to be information about these Fairy Rings in the archive somewhere. Out of impulse, Vincor stepped into the ring and walked to the center. Nazrun watched him, blinking. "What're you waiting for?" "I don't know," Vincor said. "Is anything happening?" They stayed silent for a few seconds and let the breeze pass through the clearing before Nazrun shrugged. "Nothing special. Sun's going down." Vincor nodded and stepped out of the circle of mushrooms. He felt slightly embarassed, like he had been caught whispering an incantation in an empty, dark room and expecting to meet the grisly ghost of a murdered princess. If Nazrun found it strange, the man said nothing about it and simply began to head back. Vincor picked his way through the forest after him, and strained his ears for the sound of a leopard prowling in the trees. <>

  <> 

Miari's voice was probably loud enough for the water to carry it across the entire kingdom. Valerian could hear her before she appeared in sight, and by the time his younger sister had swam up to him, people were craning their necks out of doors and gossiping among themselves. "Val! Val!" Miari called, swimming in circles around him. She wasn't old enough to have developed poison yet, so Valerian pinched her by a small, golden wing-fin and pulled her into the castle, just to get out of the public eye. Not that it would matter; news travelled fast in their little community, and by the afternoon everyone would know what had gotten Miari so riled up. "Val, your dragon friend is here again!" Miari giggled, even before Valerian had managed to shut the door. He could hear laughter from the village and groaned, pressing a palm to his face, blonde-hair swirling around. "He's not a dragon, Miari, and he's definitely not my friend." More like an annoyance, he wanted to add, but he knew that his father was just around the corner and rather disapproved of him talking about guests like that. Sure enough, the king appeared before them, the red and gold spines of his wing-fins swaying in the current. Even he had an amused look on his face, and Valerian's frown deepened. "Go greet your suiter, Valerian. It's rude to keep him waiting." Valerian puffed up and the fins on his back (gold and white, very traditional colors, very proud of that) stood nearly straight up. "He is NOT my -" "Go greet him." Valerian deflated almost instantly with the tone of finality in his father's voice. Grumbling, he checked outside the castle door, only saw a few people laughing before they bolted into their own houses, and felt a headache coming on. This stupid wyvern was turning him into the laughingstock of his own people. Of all the strange outside beasts to fall for him while he was visiting the human prince, it had to be a wyvern. Not even a full dragon, just some lone wyvern without his flock, which was an anomaly in itself. From underneath the water, Valerian could see the outline of a waiting figure leaning over the water on top of a dock. Human-shaped, which was uncommon, but not unusual. Most magical tribes had learned shapeshifting in order to adopt human forms - as it turned out, the humans were uncomfortable around any species they perceived to be a threat. The Fae could get away with their natural forms, but harpies and dragons and Jotun learned quickly enough that dealings with humans were much easier when they were perceived as humans, regardless of what they actually were. That being said, it must have worked to some degree, since the territory wars that used to ravage the countryside had all but stopped when the new king took the throne. King Niall, who Valerian had met just a few days ago to discuss alternate options for irrigation canals, was much more diplomatic than the previous king. The late king was before Valerian's time, but if his father's snide remarks were anything to go by, he didn't do much of a good job. Grumbling to himself, Valerian broke the surface, lifting his head just barely into the air. The very top tips of his wing-fins rose out of the water too, a careful reminder that, should the need arise, he was perfectly capable of defending himself. "Hello, Prince Valerian!" the wyvern, Nazrun, said, with an expression that was far too happy to see him. "How are you this fine day?" Nazrun, whose name he only knew because of an over-exuberant introduction when they'd first met, must have been a sand wyvern, based on the human form he chose. Dark, tanned skin and short black hair combed back and away from his face, full lips and a tall, straight nose. Green eyes, the mark of magic, and a smile that was way too big for how annoyed Valerian was with him right now.  "What are you doing here?" Valerian asked, voice cold. "This is the territory of the Water Fae, and you're intruding." "Relax, I'm actually here on business." Nazrun replied, sitting up. He dusted off his elbows and reached into the bag at his side, pulling out an envelope. "I'm the court messenger, and I was lucky enough that today my duties brought me to you." Were he any more immature, Valerian would have rolled his eyes at that comment and splashed water onto the dock. But instead he rose a bit higher out of the water and reached for the envelope. Nazrun held it away, much to his chagrin. "You might want to uh, dry off before you take this. The parchment might not tear, but the ink will run the moment it gets wet." "That's hardly your concern, now give me my letter." He reached higher for it, but Nazrun took a step back, and Valerian's hand just barely missed it. The dorsal fins running along his forearms were half an inch from brushing against Nazrun's wrists, and Valerian glared. "It is my concern. I'm a messenger; I'm supposed to make sure the message is delivered. Can't make that claim if it's illegible from water damage." Nazrun grinned wider and walked back along the dock, heading to the shore. "You might want to dry off first." Valerian bristled and stayed right where he was, thank you very much. "Just read it aloud to me, then," He retorted from his position in the water. On the dock, Nazrun froze mid-step. He turned around and a sheepish look had replaced the grin, and he held the envelope gingerly. "I can't," he said. Valerian raised an eyebrow. "If it's a privacy issue, I give you permission to intervene." Nazrun stared at some spot in the water to Valerian's left. "Er, I still can't - " "If King Niall has an issue with it, tell him that I asked you to. I'll deal with the consequences. Now hurry up and read me this letter before I get bored." Nazrun's shoulders dropped and even the sheepish look disappeared as he stared at the ground. "I uh, I can't read. One of the reasons I got this job, actually, no worries about snooping around and intruding on official business." He looked up at Valerian's shocked expression. "So if you want to know what's in this letter you might want to come dry off a little bit." Valerian didn't move, this time out of sheer surprise, not indignation. A wyvern that couldn't read? And one that worked in the castle, no less? Not that Valerian was an expert on Dragonkind and culture, but traditionally dragons and wyverns taught their young several different languages, starting from when they hatched. Firebreathers were known to be some of the greatest linguists of the magical world, partially due to their long lifespans and partially due to their thirsts for knowledge. Wyverns didn't live as long, but they were still a member of the draconic families, and they too had a great desire to learn. A wyvern that couldn't read? Really? "How could you not know how to read? What, did someone toss your egg down a cliff before you hatched?" Nazrun laughed and nearly dropped the letter, but he managed to catch it before it slipped between the wood planks of the dock. "That would certainly explain a lot, but no, I was just never taught." The implications from that statement flashed across Valerian's mind, but he chose to stay silent about them. The last thing he wanted to do was make assumptions about the life of a wyvern he hardly even knew (and wasn't too keen on knowing too well, if the snickers from the villagers was anything to go by.) So he simply harrumphed and made his way to where Nazrun had retreated, stepping onto the shore gingerly, the tips of his wing-fins dripping water. Nazrun had arrived prepared; he held out a large, fluffy towel with the royal crest embroidered into it, and Valerian looked between it and the gold and white fins on his forearms. "You can keep the towel, even though I doubt it'll do much for you underwater." Valerian humphed and snatched up the towel, making sure to dry his hands and arms thoroughly. After a second thought, he dried off his hair, too, placing the towel around his neck in order to catch any droplets that he'd missed. And finally, finally Nazrun handed over the letter, his hand hovering near Valerian's hair before an angry glare brought it back to his side. The letter was standard fare according to the discussions that he and the king had been having, considering rerouting water form the rivers instead of the lake where the Water Fae kingdom was in order to irrigate the fields. King Niall had come up with some alternative solutions that would simultaneously add inhibitions to human fishing in the lake, and he wanted to set up a meeting "at your convenience" in order to discuss it. "I'm free in three days," Valerian responded, handing back the letter. "I will be arriving in the city at noon, and can stay as late as the meeting takes us." Nazrun nodded. "I'll let King Niall know." He hesitated a little, then cleared his throat and asked, "Whenever your meeting is over, would you let me give you a tour of the city? I had heard that you never had a proper tour when you first arrived, and that's a shame. In three days is the beginning of the midsummer's celebrations, too, so the city should be festive. There'll be a lot to see, and I'm sure you'll like it." Valerian stared at him, expression cold, saying nothing. The silence stretched between them until Nazrun's smile faded, and he cleared his throat again and bowed. "Thank you for your response, Prince Valerian, I'll deliver it - " "We'll see. About the tour. If I'm not too tired, then maybe." Just like that, Nazrun exploded into energy again. His green eyes brightened and he grinned so wide Valerian wondered if his face was going to crack. "You won't regret it! I promise, the city is gorgeous around this time, I mean I see it every year and it just keeps getting more and more beautiful. Every year outdoes the last one, and this one promises to be the best one yet! I can't wait to see you there, Prince Valerian, I'll, um, I'll see you!" He waved before practically skipping back through the forest. Why not fly? Valerian wondered, but gave a small half-wave back. Nazrun was out of sight fast enough, and Valerian pulled the towel off of his neck, wondering what to do with it. "Are you sure your suiter is a dragon?" A small voice piped up from in the water. "He looks human to me. Is that his favor to you?" Valerian jolted and dropped the towel, kicking it into the sand with his heel as he turned to face his sister. Her head was peeking out of the water, straining to look past Valerian's feet. "Okay, first of all, he's not a dragon, he's a wyvern. You'll learn the difference in your lessons soon. Second of all, he's not my suiter. He's not trying to - wait a minute, do you even know what a suiter is?" Miari smiled and nodded. "Yeah, Ilya told me! She said that a suiter is someone who likes someone else very much and comes to take them away. Then you get taken off to a different castle and if they like you very very much then you kiss! Are you gonna kiss a dragon, Val?" "No, Miari, I'm not going to kiss - he's not my suiter anyway - you need to stop spreading rumors before other people hear!" Miari laughed and dove back underwater, and even from where he was on the shore Valerian could hear her yelling, "Ilya! Ilya! Val's gonna kiss a dragon! Ilya!" "MIARI," Valerian roared, splashing back into the water. His fins stuck out in indignation, and he swam back to the bottom of the lake and tried in vain to catch the little princess before the entire kingdom heard her yelling.