“Arch…dragon?” Malorion asked. His face visibly paled briefly before he shook his head. “Impossible. They only exist in legends.” He turned to Moeldywn, restored his charming smile and clapped. “Bravo, Your Majesty. I see you haven’t lost your sense of humor. After yesterday, I am almost inclined to believe you.”
“Bats, Malorion!” Raztara squawked like a puffed-up chicken. “That little gremlin called us bats!”
“I’m sorry!” Melia squirmed. She really needed to learn how to watch her mouth. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m sure you’re very terrifying in your own right.”
She nodded eagerly, glancing up at Moeldywn for approval. But the princess merely gave her an indulgent smile, as if humoring a small child. Melia’s confident grin faltered.
“Menacing? Formidable? Inspiring? I’m making a mess of this, aren’t I?”
Moedlywn knelt down and patted Melia’s head, all while smiling and wearing an expression that clearly said you did your best.
The [Ambassador]’s reaction was the opposite. He shook his head ruefully, and his voice was laced with condescending pity.
“My dear gnome, have you ever seen a dragon before? We do not often show our true forms in public; it has a tendency to intimidate and cower the lesser races.”
“Of course I have!” Melia scoffed. “I am one! And don’t call them lesser. That’s like me calling you bats.”
“I think,” Malorion’s chuckle was slightly strained, “That we can dispense with the charade. It is quite clear to me that you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I agree,” Moeldywn sighed. “At least about the charade. [Ambassador], have you even bothered to [Identify] Meliastraza yet?”
“Yes,” he frowned. “Melia the Magnificent. An amusing accolade, to be sure. It seems the system has a title for everything.”
“Did you even bother looking at her level?”
“What of it?” Malorion shrugged, but he indulged the princess. “I am sure, for a gnome, it is quite im…press…ive. Oh.”
Melia tilted her head as the tall man’s eyes widened. She knew nobody would ever be able to see her full level, but she also didn’t know how it felt to gaze upon something so much higher level than her own that it showed a skull. A giant, fanged, kindly F right off if you value your skin monstrous skull.
“I…don’t understand,” Raztara said, the fight entirely taken out of her. “The only person I’ve ever seen with a Death Skull is the Dragon King.”
“Tsk,” Moeldywn shook her head. “Have you completely blocked yesterday’s encounter from your mind? You saw The Destroyer.”
“Well, yes,” Raztara agreed. “But can you really consider that a person?”
“I think so,” Melia nodded seriously. “After all…she’s me.”
“Eh?” Raztara mumbled quizzically. She looked completely nonplussed; a quirky smile grew on her lips…and then something happened that Melia didn’t expect. Her eyes blinked, much like Melia’s sometimes did when she was looking through her magical sight, and they morphed from human irises to draconic ones. Completely unbefitting of the image of a stately noblewoman, Raztara leaned forward, bent low, brought her face right up to Melia’s, and sniffed.
Melia giggled and squirmed at the familiar sensation. She knew this move! This was the my nose is superior to human sight maneuver! Melia herself used it when she wanted to know what purple smelled like, locate the nearest princess, or otherwise track expensive goods. It was an Extra Value Nose!
…Which made it sound like she was sniffing out a bargain like some garage-saleing penny-pincher or a fast-food reality tv show reject.
Melia felt the magic in the air around her filter into Raztara’s lungs and spread throughout the woman’s body. Raztara rose, her eyes still wide and uncomprehending, her nostrils continuing to flare in and out. Her legs began to tremble and she quickly slumped back onto the chaise. She held her hands before her, watching her fingers as they shivered.
“Malorion,” Raztara said, her voice laced with confusion. “My hands are shaking. Why are my hands shaking, Mal?”
Malorion swooped next to his wife and cradled her hands in his own as he brought her head close to his chest. His eyes narrowed nervously as he glared at Melia suspiciously.
“What sort of monster are you?” he accused. It was clear he wasn’t used to feeling powerless.
“A dragon,” Melia huffed helplessly. While before that was a mark of pride for her, right now she didn’t know how that made her feel. Or even how to best make use of it.
“Look…see?” Melia scrunched her eyes and summoned the horns and the tail, which landed on the floor behind her with a meaty plop. She raised her arms in triumph, gave a winning smile, and spun in a circle like a showroom exhibit.
Malorion was…not amused. He wrinkled his nose, and the bend of his eyebrows told Melia he was not impressed. She slowly stopped spinning and let her hands droop.
“Are you a whelpling? Have you escaped your clutch?”
“No,” Moeldywn sighed, scooping Melia up into her arms. Melia did not resist and allowed herself to be placed in her princess’ lap as Moeldywn took a seat on the opposing couch. “She’s just fat.”
“Hey! No I’m not!” Melia pouted, but she didn’t stop the probing finger as it squished her tail. Moeldywn nodded to the man across from her.
“You see, [Ambassador], Meliastraza here is a very special case. What you and I might take for baby fat or a hatchling’s shell-weight is actually a clever ploy…not that the fiend in question realizes it. I have come to learn, over a very long life, that this is the true form of the [Destroyer of Worlds], not the one you attacked so brazenly yesterday. Was it brave? Yes. Am I grateful to you for risking so much for my city and my people? Yes. Was it incredibly foolish? Also yes. None can stop The Destroyer from fulfilling her duty. But when she is not, ah, on the job, so to speak, she maintains a carefully curated image to deceive you. Not for any nefarious means, but simply to…fit in. To disarm Humanity and grow close to its people. It might come as a complete surprise to you, but The Destroyer cares more for mortals than any living dragon.”
“Why?” Malorion asked, genuinely curious. “Your Majesty, I mean no offense, but humans are hardly worth the air they breathe. Present company excluded, of course, but they are weak, troublesome annoyances that resemble exceptionally skilled livestock. No true dragon would allow…this,” he added, waving his hand at Melia sitting in Moeldywn’s lap. “Especially not the Archdragon.”
The princess snorted.
“It’s good to know your feelings about my people, [Ambassador],” Moeldywn said wryly. “I’ll remember that the next time trade negotiations arise, shall I?”
The man frowned, but did not retract his words. Moeldywn shook her head, knowing he spoke the truth as all dragons saw it…save one.
“In truth, [Ambassadors], we’ve come today precisely for this reason. You see, Meliastraza may very well be older than you or I, but in some regards, she should still be considered a child. She was not raised in World’s End, nor do we know who her draconic parents were. She was raised by humans…and I would say the world is a better place for it. But it does mean she knows nothing of your culture or your ways. What you saw yesterday was not the wrath of the [Destroyer of Worlds] brought down upon an erring kingdom. It was little more than a tantrum thrown by a youngling whose treasure was threatened.”
“Did you really have to put it like that?” Melia whined, but she didn’t try to dispute it.
“Are you serious?” Malorion asked incredulously. “How much gold did somebody try to steal that drove you to nearly annihilate the capital city?”
“It was something far more valuable than gold,” Melia said, leaning into Moeldywn’s hand.
“Platinum?” The man asked shrewdly. Melia scoffed. “Truesilver?” He tried again.
“Diamonds,” Melia said in a smarmy tone, earning a respectful nod. Moeldywn swatted her on the back of the head and she gave an addendum. “Rough ones, yes, but large.”
“Ignore her,” she said in a tired voice. “Her idea of what is and is not acceptable to hoard is off. As is her sense of value, danger, scale, and pretty much anything else you could ever think of. The world, [Ambassadors], is a plaything to The Destroyer. To Meliastraza, it is a playground. I would much rather see her enjoy it than tear it to pieces. Ironically, that includes members of her own race. As [Ambassadors] from the dragon lands, I believe it is your duty to share the ways of your people with outsiders; to explain what it means to be a dragon.”
“Are you certain you wish to join us, your Majesty?”
Miguel returned with a maid and helped escort Raztara to a parlor to be freshened up. She had come back to her senses during Moeldywn and Malorion’s little chat, but declared that she needed to wash away the lingering funk and decided she needed a bath. Melia expressed interest in a real draconic bath, wondering if it was similar to how she was nearly boiled in a soup pot back at the abbey.
She made the mistake of remarking so out loud. Moeldywn rolled her eyes, and Malorion tactfully explained that no dragon would ever be caught in a pot. Melia tried to defend the valiant pot, saying it suited her needs just fine, at which point the man said she simply didn’t know any better. One thing led to another, and they decided to start Melia’s education in a literal bath room.
“Absolutely,” Moeldywn nodded. “Somebody needs to mediate between you two. I am confident, without a shred of doubt, that Meliastraza will do something to anger or insult you, completely without meaning to do so. And, in fearing any retribution her ignorance might spark from you, I feel it would be prudent that I should be present to prevent her from simply eating you if a fight escalates too far.”
“I wouldn’t eat them,” Melia complained. Moeldywn was undeterred.
“You eat everything.”
“Yes, well…true, but not people!”
“Thank the gods.”
“Er,” Malorion nearly faltered, “Dragons are quite large, you know.”
“So is this glutton,” Moeldywn ruthlessly said. “Remember The Destroyer.”
“I confess, I’m having a hard time connecting the image in my memory to the gnome in front of me.”
“As do we all, but I assure you, she is one and the same.”
“But that beast was so…big.”
“Normally I’m not that large,” Melia agreed. “I was [Enraged].”
“I will endeavor not to earn your ire.”
Malorian led them to a set of double doors. They stood slightly ajar and steam was pouring out the gap between them. As Malorion approached, one of the many servants opened it fully so he could step through without breaking his stride. The inside was revealed to be a mix between a limestone cave and a palatial pool. The walls were clearly sculpted to look like smooth stone with a far-reaching ceiling. Hand-carved stalactites hung at various lengths, while the tiled floor created a beautiful mosaic of vibrant colors. The centerpiece, of course, was the bathing area. Melia couldn’t call it a tub, but she really couldn't call it a pool, either. It was like something she imagined from a fancy celebrity’s mansion, carefully designed to look like a lake, with boulder reliefs and cascading water features…but scaled up to an Olympic level.
“Oh! This is a clever room,” Melia grinned as she craned her neck and twisted around rapidly, trying to take everything in. She spied a familiar spellwork woven into the stone walls. “It’s bigger on the inside without taking up any more physical rooms! What a great idea for a mansion.”
“A necessity for any dragon’s dwelling,” Malorion raised an eyebrow. Now that he was in [Ambassador] mode, his cheery, brazen attitude returned. “Horizon simply lacks adequate grounds to devote to a proper draconic lair.”
“When you’re all the size of a small house…,” Moeldywn grumbled, but Melia was already running to the pool in the center of the room where a large, red mound was being scrubbed clean by many maids. Raztara’s eyes were closed in bliss as at least a dozen women treated her more like a truck wash than a bath. Several maids were even balanced precariously on ladders with deck-scrubbers on long poles, working the hard-to-reach scales and nooks between her wings.
“Aww, you’re adorable,” Melia giggled, doing a happy little dance. “A real, live dragon! I’m sure you’ll grow up big and strong.”
Raztara’s eye shot open and she stared daggers down at the tiny gnome, but she remained unmoving.
“Fool,” she grumbled out. “Do you not know an adult dragon when you see one?”
“To be honest, no,” Melia said. “I’ve seen some monsters, and they were a bit smaller than you, and then there’s my real body.”
“Then transform and let’s see it,” Raztara demanded lazily, letting her eye droop closed.
“Can’t,” Melia chuckled. “This is a nice room, but it’s too small.”
The eye slowly opened back up and stared at Melia warily. Raztara let out a snort, sending a jet of bubbles into the water. Malorion eventually arrived to spare some consoling words for his wife, who seemed content to let the maids do their work.
That was where Melia made her first observation.
“You sure have a lot of servants,” she said as Malorion was finishing up giving instructions to the one in charge of bathing his wife. He glanced at Moeldywn before nodding at Melia.
“But of course. A dragon requires many servants.”
“But why?”
“Why not?” he chuckled back.
“I mean, from what I can see, aren’t they doing everyday, normal tasks?” Melia asked.
“It’s not so different from normal nobles,” Moeldywn explained. “Though, admittedly, at a greater scale.”
“Such things are beneath a dragon,” the [Ambassador] agreed. “Who else would do them?”
“How about yourselves?” Melia retorted with a frown.
“Are you serious?” Malorion laughed. He spotted Melia frowning, her arms over her chest, and his laughter slowly died out. “Gods, she’s serious. You were right, Queen Moeldywn. Her bearing as a dragon is completely lacking.”
“Just because I don’t hire lackeys to do my dirty work?” Melia snarked.
“That’s what the lesser races are for,” the man shot back. Melia huffed and stuck her nose in the air.
“I don’t think I like dragons very much.”
“Do you desire proof with your own eyes?” Malorion challenged. “The Queen is an outlier. Other mortals pale in comparison. It is our right to rule over them…is what most of our kin would claim. It is one reason why so few dragons are allowed outside of World’s End. The King honors the age-old treaties and does not desire total subjugation.”
“Well, maybe I’ll keep my eyes open just in case,” Melia huffed.
Malorion led them around the sizable estate, made even larger thanks to the many space-enhancing enchantments embedded everywhere. That was another lesson: so many enchantments would be unthinkable to find inside a normal noble’s mansion. For one, few people were skilled enough to cast such complex magics, outside of select graduates from the magical academy. Malorion was an accomplished magic user, on par with a veteran [Mage] or a Dean. He had written half of the enchantments, including the one for the bath, himself.
Feeling competitive, Melia unwittingly engaged in a battle of one-upmanship. She claimed her magic was bigger, better, stronger, and more useful, citing her brand-new [Greenhouse], which was revving up to start cranking out fruit. She heard Moeldywn groan and slap her hand over her eyes, but Melia ignored the princess. Malorion seemed skeptical at first and began subtly testing Melia, assured of catching her in a lie.
But as she answered every magical question he threw at her, starting basic and quickly ramping up in difficulty, he soon found himself eager to visit this potential new marvel and see if he could learn a thing or two about stretching a space inside a space. Moeldywn had to hastily remind him that right now was not the time.
Raztara joined them when they had ventured into one of the many parlors that seemed to function as an art gallery. She was wearing a gorgeous dress designed to show off her ample curves, which was also modified in other ways. Perhaps she’d taken inspiration from Melia, or maybe the competitive atmosphere was contagious, because she was also in her dragonkin form. Her horns were thinner than Melia’s and they angled slightly forward instead of pointing straight up; her tail was long, slender, and covered in bright red scales. They practically gleamed with a polished sheen, perhaps a side effect of the bath she’d taken. But more than anything, it was the dress itself that she was keen to display.
“[Runecloth],” she said in a supremely satisfied tone. “A lot appeared on the auction house and we simply needed to acquire it. For [Enchantability], few cloths can compare.”
“It really is amazing,” Melia praised, “And you wear it so well! I’m glad I put that up for sale. Let me know if you need more.”
“You…what?” Raztara asked, nearly tripping over her own two feet. “You mean to say…you were the mysterious vendor that appeared several weeks ago?! There were only two listings! The first sold instantly and the second did not allow a buyout! We had to wait an entire week to acquire this!”
“Well, yeah,” Melia chuckled. “That’s how the auction house goes. But, honestly, I’m surprised you don’t use [Emberlinen]. It’s much more durable and it’s flameproof.”
“I am a Red,” Raztara said defiantly. “No cloth is flameproof.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Moeldywn suddenly cut in, looking scandalized. She bullied Melia into a corner and stared her down. “You have [Emberlinen]?”
“I already give you bears!” Melia said nervously, looking for a way to escape. But she found herself surrounded by two interested dragons and a princess who was mean-mugging her into submission. “...do you want a bolt?”
“Knowing you, you have enough,” Moeldywn said. “How about two?”
“For each of us?” Raztara said hopefully.
And so, Melia was divested of several stacks of [Emberlinen]. It was a worthy lesson on draconic greed.
The princess and the lady dragon held their prizes triumphantly and congratulated themselves for procuring fine goods, all while Malorion tried consoling a browbeaten Melia. He gave her a wry smile and asked a relevant question.
“I don’t understand,” he began. “You claim to be a dragon. And yet, you practically allowed yourself to be robbed. Taking a dragon’s treasure is a crime worthy of death. How can you call yourself a dragon, yet you don’t react to guard your hoard? If, indeed, you are the same Destroyer that attacked Horizon only yesterday, where was that fury? That scorn?”
“Please,” Melia sighed. “It’s just cloth.”
“I have never seen such a cloth before,” Malorion said, “But [Inspecting] it now told me it was at the very least [Runecloth]’s equal. It had a 5-star quality, too…,” he added, his voice colored with longing. He shook his head; apparently, it was now his wife’s treasure and not his.
“So?” Melia asked, genuinely curious. “Again, it’s just cloth. A simple material. Sure, it might be worth gold, but gold isn’t everything.”
The man looked as if he had swallowed a lemon and stared contemplatively at Melia.
“How could you say such a thing? Gold is precious, gold is….”
He waved his hands about futilely, as if she didn’t have the words to describe how great gold was. Or, better yet, as if he couldn't believe he had to try to do so in the first place.
“Gold is very shiny,” Melia agreed seriously. “It’s very pretty.”
The man stared at her, his mouth hanging open.
“But really, I have tons of gold. My vault and my lair are full of it. Perhaps I’ll show you some time. I’m not nearly as worried about gold as some other things.”
She gave Malorion a contemplative look of her own while trying to hide her nervousness.
“But, ah, for those things I do value…how do you keep yourself from lashing out?”
“Ah,” the man said. He studied Melia for a while before nodding. “I see why Queen Moeldywn brought you here. Normally, restraint is taught to whelps before they leave the rookeries. As for your question,” he chuckled, “Sometimes you don’t. If you are offended, you achieve your retribution swiftly and, depending on the slight, extract interest.”
“But, let’s say that’s…not really a good idea?” Melia gave a weak laugh. “Or possible? What do you do?”
“Train slowly, I suppose,” Malorion gave a thoughtful look. “Have somebody you know and trust enter your hoard and remove a few pieces. So long as they don’t go far and bring them back, I could see you being able to slowly train your resistances. Eventually, you might even allow someone to get away with outright theft.”
The way he said it, full of doubt and dubiousness, it was clear he thought the whole endeavor was a fool’s errand. It was simpler, easier, and better to just catch the thief and kill them than allow his treasure to be swiped from under his nose.
Melia learned a lot of things that afternoon…after several hours of mingling and talking about draconic things. But she didn’t feel any closer to finding out what it meant to be a dragon. She almost had more questions now than she did at the start. She felt less and less like a real dragon the longer the day dragged on, and if it wasn’t for Moeldywn’s grounding presence, she would have been lost.
They could not deal in specifics, simply because there was little common ground between Melia and the [Ambassadors]. Melia learned that, yes, she was very much an outlier, a pariah in draconic culture. Dragons did not care for “lesser” Human life. Melia was surprised to find that the [Ambassadors] knew the names of each and every one of their multitudes of servants, but that was not because of familiarity. It was pure, utilitarian practicality. A dragon’s mind was sharp and did not easily forget small details, so once committed to memory, a name would not slip past them. And, since it required a great deal of trust to become employed by a dragon, the entire staff was vetted thoroughly before being hired.
If somebody was to steal from a dragon, the dragon would typically respond twofold. They would retrieve their stolen goods, extract an equal sum from the offending party, and then usually kill the offending party, if they had not already been disposed of first.
If the thief decided to run, the dragon would chase them. Sometimes, until the ends of the earth, if the theft was great enough. In such cases, they would not care one bit for any calamity they wrought in their wake. To them, it was not their responsibility nor their fault.
Melia was escorted into the Ariad’s lair. Raztara had transformed and glared at her the entire time she was allowed to gaze in wonder at the glory of the dragons’ hoard. Melia found she was not entirely wrong in her assumptions of a typical lair. It had copious amounts of valuables of all types, from money to jewels to art, and it did, indeed, resemble a vault. Melia was amused when she asked, on a whim, if they knew how much it was all worth, and was given an amount to the tenth of a fraction in modern equity. Dragons, it seemed, did have an instinctive understanding of their value and net worth.
Throughout, Melia was shown a subtle sense of entitlement and arrogance. She found it strangely muted, as if the two dragons in question were holding back. All her understanding of dragons said the creatures were as boastful as they were powerful…which tracked. Whenever Melia let a compliment slip, either to be polite or because she was genuinely impressed, the two dragons would puff up, preen, and wax eloquent about their achievements, belongings, or general greatness. They’d go on for hours if they were allowed, but Moeldywn stealthily told Melia that, as [Ambassadors], they were much milder than a typical dragon.
To some extent, Melia could understand where it all stemmed from. Compared to a normal Human, dragons were superior. Bigger, faster, stronger; better in every metric. They reached higher levels and lived longer lives. They were incredibly hard to kill. If she had never had a previous life and had woken up in this body from day one…Melia didn’t think she’d spend any time at all as a gnome, and the world would be…very bleak.
But as it stood, even without understanding exactly what it meant to be a dragon herself, Melia learned a valuable lesson. She didn’t need to fit in; she just needed to keep pressing forward.
Of course, that came with its own set of Melia-sized complications.
“All of this, of course, predicates on you being who you say you are,” Malorion said as he led the group outside to a rear patio that could gaze across the sprawling lawns of the estate.
“Indeed,” Raztara agreed. “Though I do not care for being called a bat, I trust that you’ve seen the error of your ways. Have you ever seen a more fitting specimen of a Red?”
She struck a pose and Melia rolled her eyes.
“Thank you, but I don’t think I’m the best judge of such things. At my size, you all look alike. Honestly, I thought Reds were supposed to be on the larger side for dragons?”
“And, if we’re playing along with the story, you’re supposed to be Black, are you not?”
“Obsidian, but yes.”
“I think you might be more suited for Gold or Blue,” Raztara wrinkled her nose. Melia shrugged. What was she supposed to do with that?
“Thank you for having me today,” she bowed deeply to each of them. Moeldywn had pressing duties waiting for her back at the castle, and she couldn’t run away from responsibility all day. “As a token of my appreciation, I’d like to give you a gift. Would you accept?”
“Oh ho,” Raztara smiled gleefully. “If you insist.”
Melia rolled her eyes. If anything, she learned dragons were easy to bribe if you got on their good side. She pulled a small sack from her inventory and handed it to Miguel, telling him it was a [Storage] and that the things inside wouldn’t go bad.
“There is a question I’ve been meaning to ask,” Melia said thoughtfully. “Do you often go out in your true forms?”
From listening to them all day, Melia learned that the two Reds did not have any fears about people finding out they were dragons.
“On occasion,” Raztara shrugged.
“How do the neighbors handle it?”
“We have been a fixture in this community for longer than the current generation has been alive,” she said. “How they handle it is their business.”
“So, sometimes you just have dragons flying in and out?” Melia asked. “What if somebody comes to visit?”
“Other draconic visitors are quite rare in Horizon,” Moeldywn said. “They need special permission from their King. Though, I suppose after yesterday's fiasco, we might be seeing a few more emissaries once word of The Destroyer gets out.”
“I see,” Melia frowned. “I was wondering if there was a place I could transform and stretch my wings, but on second thought, that’s a bad idea, isn’t it?”
“Normally, I’d agree,” Moeldywn said, “But I can cloak us in [Invisibility]. I’m hankering for another flight and you’re faster than calling for my carriage.”
“As you can see, there’s plenty of room to stretch here,” Malorion said, spreading his arms wide in invitation.
Melia smirked. She knew they didn’t really believe she was telling the truth about being a dragon. But she was feeling better about herself now than she was this morning, and her mischievous side was flaring up.
“Then, if you don’t mind, I’ll take you up on that,” Melia said.
“Wait,” Raztara said as if just entering the conversation. “You’re going to take a passenger? Like some common mount?”
Melia shrugged and Moeldywn grinned triumphantly.
“A perk of having a dragon,” she said teasingly, though her words might have gotten lost behind the spectacle of Melia’s transformation. Her body exploded in light, and the two shocked [Ambassadors] stood stock still on the lawn as she quickly took up much more space. She grew, and she grew, and she grew. Until she reached her final, massive, 100-foot size, her wings itching to be let free and yet clamped to her side to avoid flapping toward the nearby homes. She brought her head low, turning it sideways so one giant eye could level out with the two figures staring at her. Both of their mouths were gaping so wide, Melia thought their jaws might dislocate.
“Bats,” Melia teased, nudging Raztara, who squawked like a chicken and transformed herself. The Red was closer to the size of Melia’s head while normal, and she stood still and let the flappy bird beat her wings about her head for several seconds before eventually nudging her again and bowling her toward the ground.
“Malorion, Raztara, thank you. I’ll take you up on your hospitality and visit again.”
Melia lowered her head, let Moeldywn climb aboard, and waited to be shrouded in [Invisibility]. She knew exactly what the princess really wanted, so she decided to make a quick detour around Gold Coast before dropping Moeldywn off at the castle. Once they were high in the sky, the princess remembered she had a question.
“Meliastraza, what was in that sack you gave the [Manservant]?”
“It was getting close to dinnertime, and I thought they might be hungry,” Melia said gleefully. “It was just some sandwiches.”