Tristan knocked on the door. A loud, clacking, metal-on-wood noise. Felicity was making paw-claw biscuits on his head, as she did when she was bored or anxious. He assumed the latter.

A few moments passed before he heard movement on the other side, and Tristan made sure to keep his family crest out, on his chest plate, so that Bertram would know him despite his changed appearance.

The door opened and it was not his half-brother who greeted him at the door. Instead, it was a partially-dressed Drakonid. She had deep, blue scales all along her body, a pair of curling horns that arched back from her temples, and a shock of light, blue hair. "What is it?" she asked in a gruff tone.

"I'm…I'm here to see Bertram," Tristan replied.

She turned aside and Tristan got a glance into the hallway leading deeper into the chamber. It was messy, to say the least. "Bertram! Got some knife-ear here to talk." She turned back to face Tristan and smirked, "Weird antler-dog on your head."

Tristan glanced up at Felicity, who waved politely with her paw, "I'm Felicity. Tristan's companion."

"Huh. Okay." The woman shrugged.

"Knife-ear?" an exhausted, masculine voice replied. Tristan saw his half-brother walk down the short hallway before coming to a sudden stop a few feet from the door. "Holy shit…that's the Anorox crest." His face turned to one of wrath and anger as he took a step forward and shouted accusatorily, "Who did you steal it from?!"

Tristan held up his hands, "It's me! Tristan! I can pro-"

Bertram got in front of him and stood right up next to Tristan. His half-brother was large – easily six foot tall, with hulking muscles that were scarred and defined. He, too, was not well covered, and the attendant that had teleported Tristan from the front of the Citadel of Essence and was standing aside averted her gaze. Bertram's ruddish, orange scruff and light, brown hair shook as his voice trembled in a rage. "You stole it! No Anorox would lose it!"

"Peanuts," Tristan stated.

Bertram's face screwed up in confusion, "What?"

"Peanuts. Your favorite snack. Father hated you eating them all over the manor, because you would just leave the shells all over the place. It's me, Tristan. Just…fully Elf."

Bertram's confusion faded and the anger left him, "It…holy shit…no way." He looked Tristan in the eye, looking slightly down at him due to their minor height difference. "What did we do to Gisele on her ninth birthday?"

Tristan chuckled as he recalled the memory vividly and replayed it in his thoughts as he spoke, "We tied her to her bed and then threw nine pies at her for nine birthdays. Father was furious, and grandfather made us clean up everything."

Bertram let out a slight laugh and reached forward, hugging Tristan tight. "It is you! I never…how are you here?" he pulled away and looked utterly bewildered, "Why are you here?"

Tristan shook his head, "Not…not out here," he said as he glanced at the woman who was observing him silently from the side. "Can we talk inside?"

"Sure. Come in! Oh, shit, don't mind the mess. Rory? Mind fixing up the place?"

The blue Drakonid woman scoffed, "Please. We'll just make it messy again when he's gone." She turned and walked into the dimly lit chamber.

The attendant next to the door cleared her throat, "I will be here to transport you back to the guest quarters once you conclude your visit. No more than an hour."

"I don't know if we'll need that long," he replied as he followed Bertram inside the room and shut the door.

Felicity pinched her nose, "Pee-eww! It stinks in here!"

The scent assailed Tristan also, and he pinched his nose as the foul smell of unwashed sheets permeated the air. Bertram let out a barking laugh, "Sorry! Wasn't expecting company."

The quarters were decent accommodations. A short entry hall with a privy to one side, a small study on the other with a writing desk and bookshelf, and then a large, main room with two trunks and a bed. Rory was laying on the bed, watching Bertram as he turned around to face Tristan. "What was so important we had to talk about it away from the witch?" he asked.

"Witch?" Felicity asked. "That's not a ranking of essence-weaver by Order."

Bertram cracked a smile, "Just a name for that lady that Rory and I use. She constantly interrupts us for those stupid field trips. But it pays well. We're rich."

"Damn right," the Drakonid woman replied. "Hurry up so we can get back to our lives."

Bertram shot her a glare, "He's my half-brother. He can stay and visit for a little."

She rolled her eyes and rolled over, her tail flopping onto the side of the bed as if flicked back and forth, as if annoyed.

"Joku ei osaa kohdella vieraita," (Someone doesn't know how to treat guests), Felicity whispered.

"What did your fox-thing say?" Bertram asked.

Tristan waved his hand, "Never mind her. Bertram…we…I…" he took a deep breath, pushing aside the discomfort at the smell as emotions roiled through him.

"Just say it," Felicity softly whispered in his ear. "There is no good way to do this."

She's right, Tristan thought as he stood upright. Gripping his family crest, he plucked the black, five-pointed star from the back and held it up. "Grandfather named me heir."

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Bertram's jaw went slack, "Wha…did something happen to dad?"

Shit, Tristan thought. He began to spin his essence crucible and had it flow up through his essence channels and just below the skin, ready to surge into his armor to protect him if needed. "He's dead. I killed him."

Bertram's face played through a whole host of emotions; shock, rage, confusion, and then settled on anger as he pushed Tristan against the wall and the latter activated his armor to protect himself. "Why did you kill him!" Bertram screamed.

Felicity began flapping up and turned invisible as Tristan replied, "He injured grandfather. He tried to kill me!"

Bertram kept him pinned, but did not push harder. Just kept Tristan in place as his breaths heaved out of him. "Why!"

"Let me explain," Tristan said as he kept his hands up to show he wasn't a threat. He spied Rory grabbing a spear of some design from one of the walls where it had been leaning. "Every Winterbloom Elf – my bloodline on mother's side – was hunted down. I'm the last one of my kind."

Bertram's grip loosened a little bit, and he spoke softly but his words were filled with a resolute determination, "Explain."

Tristan spent the next ten minutes recounting everything. From chasing Felicity to the Fey Realm, his transformation to a full-blooded Winterbloom, the assassination attempts…everything. Everything he had gone through. He didn't hold anything back. He's my half-brother, he thought as he finally took a breath and went silent. I won't kill another family member.

Bertram had stayed quite tense, but now at the end he let Tristan go and turned to Rory, wrapping his arms around her and crying in to her shoulder. His wails of sorrow were palpable and filled the atmosphere with a tension that seemed like it could be cut with a knife. Tristan let his essence fade as his armor returned to normal, and Felicity returned to his head – still invisible.

Bertram finally exhausted his sorrow and turned to face Tristan, looking like a hollow version of himself. "I…I know…I know father is…was bad to you. But to hire The Black Company? And sic them on you and grandfather?" He shook his head, "I don't have the words."

Rory spoke softly, but her voice was hard and had an edge to it. "You expect him to go back and do what, fill in the family head position?"

Tristan replied in as neutral of a tone he could muster, "I am fulfilling grandfather's wishes. The house belongs to Bertram. He's the true heir. I can take him back to Bhant, if he wants. Nymphs will carry us across the waves if he wishes. The mark entitles him to the manor, the townhouse…the prestige of the Anorox legacy. We'll wake up grandfather – I'm sure someone here can use mind spells to bring him out of his comatose state. They can go back together."

Rory's look of confusion told Tristan that she had no clue what Nymphs were, but before she could respond Bertram threw the black star symbol at the floor. It bounced to a stop next to Tristan's foot. "I don't want anything to do with Bhant," he said with finality. "They wouldn't accept Rory. Our love. Me with a non-Human. And I'm…I'm not going to live like that." He drew himself up to his full height, "I'm a Pathfinder. I'm on a contract. A good one, at that."

Tristan reached down, grabbed the star icon, and slotted it into the back of his family crest. "I understand completely."

Bertram was silent, and regarded Tristan for a moment before he glanced around the room, "Where'd your friend go?"

Felicity dropped the invisibility, "Never left. Just don't know what big guys like you will do when you get angry."

Bertram sulked slightly at the comment but pushed himself off Rory and walked back towards Tristan across the small room. He stopped a good few feet in front of him. "I'm not going back. Bhant wouldn't accept me."

Tristan chuckled, trying to bring some levity to the situation. "They wouldn't accept me either." He pointed to the ears, "And I'm less Human."

Bertram let out a single, exhausted laugh. But it was hollow. He was a shell of the man that Tristan had met only a few minutes before. "Just…" he sighed. "And Gisele, too?"

Tristan nodded, "She has always disliked me. Before the whole pie prank. You know her only goal has been noble prestige."

"Climbing the ranks," Bertram replied. "Yeah…callous bitch." He smirked, "I am just happy that she can't get anything of the Anorox estate. Even if we both are gone. Serves her right…what now?"

Tristan sighed, "Getting grandfather healed up. But then? I don't have any real plans."

Bertram leaned against the wall and wiped his nose with the back of his hands before crossing his arms, "You could join for a few expeditions. This essence-weaver school does field trips to different Realms. Easy work, protecting a bunch of them while they do research and experiment. Plus, occasionally we get our hands on dragons." He licked his lips, "And I know you have felt the hunt-urge. Heck, it can be the three of us! Me, you, grandfather."

Tristan nodded as he vividly recalled the visceral desire to consume the fire dragon and then the demon dragon that he had encountered in the past. "It is tempting. It…it would be nice to just be brothers for a while." He glanced past Bertram to the still-glaring-daggers but with a slightly softened expression Rory behind, "Only if your lady friend is okay with it."

"Lady friend?" Bertram asked. He shook his head, "Married. We got hitched."

Tristan's eyes went wide, "I-when? Congratulations! Oh, that's-"

"A dragonslayer and a Drakonid?" Felicity let out a cackle as she rolled on her back atop Tristan's head. "That's hilarious!"

Bertram frowned slightly, Rory's face became a scowl, and Tristan reached up, grabbed Felicity, and pulled her down from his head. "Sorry, she's a bit of a joker. I know she's coming up with some type of jo-"

"You-you tamed a dragon! I'd bet your dragonslaying is more like dragon-laying!" Felicity was laughing near-uncontrollably, and Tristan hugged her close to his chest to try and muffle the laughter.

Rory did chuckle at the joke, and her hard demeanor softened, "I thought she was just making fun of us being a mixed couple," she said. "That was humorous."

Bertram's expression softened as well. "Well, Tristan…it was good to see you. If you want to help out, I'm sure the Citadel wouldn't mind another dragonslayer on the payroll. And once you get grandfather up and around, bring him by."

Tristan tapped Felicity who had calmed down. "Bangle, please." She nodded in between hiccups from laughing too hard, causing her little horns to buck up with each hiccup. She opened her storage dimension, and Tristan snatched one of the golden bangles with the artificed Spoken Message: Half-Realm communication spells stored within. He handed it to Bertram, "You still have a crucible?"

The eldest Anorox child grinned, "Damn right I do. It's potent, also. Lots of dragons I've chowed down on while in this gig…though I'm not super well versed in spells." He slipped the item on his wrist, and it barely fit. "What does this do?"

Tristan tapped the silver ear-cuff, "We can talk. As long as we aren't more than half the Mortal Realm's distance from each other – and even then, it's a network with my trade fleet's captains. We could always chain together using them as a go-between to keep in contact."

Bertram's eyes went wide, "That's…" he looked at Tristan with a pleading look. "Give me another, for Rory. Please. One of the biggest issues I've had is thinking about us being separated in another Realm."

Tristan reached into the storage dimension and handed Bertram another one, "I don't mind. I've got the spares." Although, he added in his thoughts, I do need to run down to the docks and give Admiral Yokain the remaining three. He put that onto his mental priority list.

Bertram handed the gold band to Rory, and the woman slipped it on. "I may not be an essence weaver," she stated, "But this is a valuable gift. Across half a Realm?"

Tristan nodded, "Consider this your wedding present from me."

Bertram walked up and tightly hugged Tristan, "Thank you, brother."

That single word filled Tristan with emotion. He had never been called brother. Always half-brother. The fact that his brother now viewed him as true kin made him tear up slightly, and he pulled away. "I'll talk to you later. I think that witch as you call her is probably through waiting for me."

Bertram nodded and walked Tristan to the door, opening it. "Take care. And keep in touch!" he shut the door softly behind Tristan.

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