Tristan almost couldn't contain himself as he escorted Markus down into the depths of the Queen's Wood roots and to Hurvun's room. The man behind him was gawking at the interior, and then the mural they passed by depicting the Great Exodus – but he said nothing. Tristan opened the door and saw the same fairy dragon responsible for attending to his grandfather.

The fairy dragon looked up from a book and waved, "Lord Tristan. No change."

"That will change soon," Tristan said as he tried to calm his breathing and anxiety. He stood to the side and gestured, "Headmaster Markus, he's in here."

Markus entered the room and walked over to Hurvun's bedside. He looked at the fairy dragon, "May I have the seat?" The fairy dragon flapped its wings a few times and hovered, Markus taking the seat. "First," he said looking at Tristan, "I need to discern what caused this."

"Poison on a dart," Tristan replied. He rattled off the few plants that the rejuvenation-capable fairy dragon had listed Seasons prior – committed to memory in anticipation of this event. "Does that help?"

Markus nodded as he scrunched up his face, "In all likelihood, it was a type of poison that specializes in affecting the mind. Well, the brain – but that leads down the path of anatomical studies."

"Can you fix him?" Felicity asked as she flew over and landed on the pillow next to Hurvun.

"I can," Markus stated. "It is a Sixth Order spell, bringing a person's mind out of the locked-up state it is now in."

Tristan walked closer and stood at the foot of the bed, so that Hurvun would see him before anything else. He saw the gentle, shallow breathing of the man who had gone thin in his bedbound state. "Do it." He barely kept his voice neutral, but he felt like he was on the verge of tears. Please, whatever gods are listening…let this work.

Markus cleared his throat, "Very well." He placed his right hand onto Hurvun's forehead – folding in his pinky and index fingers to touch underneath his middle and ring fingers – the thumb pinned below the palm. With his other hand, he folded his pinky into the palm, crossed it with the thumb, and put the other three fingers to his forehead. "La mente es una fortaleza. No se romperá. Inquebrantable, la voluntad capacita a los más poderosos para perseverar. Abre tus puertas y déjame entrar. Y al hacerlo, déjate salir una vez más. Libera tu mente."

Orcish, Tristan thought. Damn, I was hoping it was a language I knew in case I ever came across a mind dragon…brain dragon? Either way. Come on! Work! He would have been digging his nails into his palms if not for the gauntlets. A deep, burnished bronze glow emanated as the spell phrase was spoken, and Tristan's breath caught in his lungs as he saw his grandfather's chest rise higher as he sucked in a deep breath.

"He's awake!" Felicity crowed.

Hurvun sat up, "Oh…" he stretched and Tristan heard several grinding pops of ligaments being stretched. "That hits the spot." He looked over at Felicity, "And you, little missy-"

He was cut off as Tristan rushed over. Markus had the foresight to stand up and back away, but Tristan barely noticed the headmaster. "Grandfather!" he said as he felt tears rolling down his face. "I'm sorry. If I-"

"Hey!" the man's barking voice brought Tristan to his senses immediately. "None of that. I remember what happened. Fawkes injured me." He chuckled and embraced Tristan, "But I'm alive. I trust I have you to thank?"

Tristan was trying to form the words but thankfully Felicity took over, "You were poisoned and went down."

Hurvun cursed as he pulled away from Tristan, "Thought the Elemental Realm of Poison dragon blood would protect me from that."

Markus cleared his throat gently, "You would be the mighty Hurvun Anorox?"

"Who's asking?" Hurvun asked as he gently nudged Tristan to the side.

"Headmaster Markus of the Citadel of Essence. Your…grandson?" he asked as he looked at Tristan.

"Yes," Tristan curtly replied as he wiped away the tears.

"Ah. I meant Bertram."

"He's my grandson also," Hurvun said as he made to kick his legs over the edge of the bed, but winced in pain. "Damn. How long was I out?" he lifted the blankets and his face took on a shocked expression, "My legs look like godsdamned twigs!"

Felicity giggled a little bit, "It's been several Seasons, old man."

Markus cleared his throat again, "Your grandson – Bertram, not Lord Tristan – is a Pathfinder in our employ at the Citadel of Essence."

Hurvun looked at Tristan, "There's a story here…"

Markus had left at Felicity's insistence; the fairy dragon companion escorting him out and up to the Fey Court chamber above, whilst Tristan spoke with his grandfather.

Filling Hurvun in took a few hours, and Tristan was emotionally exhausted by the end having filled the man in on everything. He simply sat upright in his bed, nodding sagely, asking a few clarifying questions at points, but ultimately not speaking much and just absorbing information.

"Well," he said, "I do not blame you for slaying your father. He was a bastard, and I do not view him as my own kin. Gisele…" he swallowed back a vile curse, Tristan was sure, and spoke softly, "She is no granddaughter of mine. Hand me that seal of rightful lineage."

Tristan drew forth the family crest from around his neck and unsocketed the black star from the back, handing it to Hurvun. The man brought it up to his lips and exhaled as he whispered, "I, Hurvun Anorox, legitimate head of the Anorox noble house, forsake my nobility." He raised his voice and almost shouted, "Go to the Hells, you Bhant bastards!"

The black star crumbled to dust, and he looked at Tristan with a coy, sly grin. "What did you do?" Tristan asked.

"I figured that'd be obvious, son." Hurvun put his hands behind his head and cleared his throat, "The Anorox family is no more. I am once more Hurvun the dragonslayer."

"Why did you settle there in the first place?" Tristan asked. "Since you're not a Human supremacist."

Hurvun's face flickered with a slight flash of remorse, "Because of my wife. The woman I loved. She was a fine woman, your grandmother. I wish you could have met her. Taken by the plague, and we were too far from a healer to get her help." He grimaced, "I only survived because of my constitution, and Fawkes was not with us at the time." He sighed. "You aren't going back to take the family name and head position. Bertram does not want it, and I am not going back to deal with politics." He said the last with venom in his voice.

Tristan held his family crest in his palm. One part of his identity. I'm not getting rid of it, he thought. Nor the King's favor, or the Archon's favor. They have spells stored within…and the Anorox crest is still a part of who I am. He slipped the seal under his chest plate. "What will you do now?"

Hurvun cracked a smile, "I have a grandson who rules a whole Realm. Don't get me wrong, going out and hunting dragons sounds like a fun time…but I am an old man. The demon dragon fight those Seasons ago reinforced that fact. I'll be here, living it up in my lordly grandson's Realm as long as he'll let me laze about."

Tristan let out a slight chuckle, finally feeling like he could breathe once more now that the whole situation had been resolved. "You can stay as long as you want…father."

Tristan left Hurvun down below, as he could not get up and walk given his physical status. The fairy dragon physician promised to get him on a training plan to rehabilitate his emaciated body.

The young Fey Lord asked for directions and was led to the Fey Court chambers – a room in the Queen's Wood amongst the root-laden, stone halls.

He opened the door and saw Eloise, Markus, The Matriarch, and Thallia. All seated at an enormous, white wood table that was grown from the tree below; with large chairs of the same substance with low backs formed from the growth. Above, dangling orbs glistened with a shining, white dew that illuminated the space with a sterility and purpose.

They all stopped their talking and faced him. The Matriarch and Thallia both stood and bowed; clasping their right fist to their chest just above the collarbone before taking their seats. "Lord Tristan," Thallia said with a dazzling, pearl-colored smile. "We have come to an accord."

Markus was grinning broadly, "A fine accord. Shall we? Or shall you?" he asked as he looked at the Fey Realm counselors.

The Matriarch cleared her throat, "Fey Realm access will be granted for the first five days each Season – I'll see to making the rift. Students will be escorted at a one-to-one ratio by a fairy dragon and kept to defined areas. Additionally, during those five days, access to the market will be made available for those from the Citadel…but as for other Realms, I wanted to leave that to you."

Tristan frowned, "The Demon Realm is probably not on good terms with me." He glanced at Eloise, "No offense – I had a fight with a Demon Lord and a demon dragon."

The woman's eyes went wide at the mention of the latter, "You fought one? They are incredibly rare."

"Wyrm sized," Tristan added. "I think for now," he said as he faced The Matriarch once more, "It is just between the Fey Realm and the Citadel. Perhaps once I introduce myself to other Realm Protectors, and we come to good terms, we may open access to other Realms."

Markus sagged slightly at that, but he then shrugged, "It is an astute enough decision." He stood up and bowed slightly, "I believe that brings our business to a conclusion. Lord Tristan? Would you please return us to the Citadel? We will finish your enrollment, get your quarters set up, and I'll have Eloise take you to the archives so that you may begin your self-study course."

"Sure," Tristan replied. He both-direction spun his crucible, "Felicity?" he asked aloud as his voice reverberated throughout the Fey Realm. "Meet me at the departure point."

Returning to the Mortal Realm, Markus walked back behind his desk and sat down with a smug grin. He tented his hands as he placed his elbows on the desk. "I look forward to your continued development as an essence-weaver, Lord Tristan, and our new, flourishing relationship." He gestured to Eloise, "She'll be your personal advisor. At any time, you teleport to her desk using that broach, and she'll take care of your needs – auditing a class, going to another Realm – you name it, she'll provide."

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Tristan turned to Eloise and she smiled, her red eyes almost dancing with excitement. "Let's go get you to your room." She tapped her staff, and the world shifted around them as they stood in a hallway once more. Just like the one where Bertram's room was. She pointed to the door to Tristan's left, "Your half-brother is there. I took the liberty of putting you next to him. You're not technically in student housing, but you are still considered a student."

Tristan glanced at her and grabbed the pin on his cloak, "Those with ill intentions cannot enter, yet teleportation works? Even Interrealm Warp. How?"

"You're on the grounds already," she stated. "If someone tried to teleport here from elsewhere in the Mortal Realm, they would arrive in front of the guard house. But teleporting inside the Citadel or its grounds, from elsewhere inside the Citadel or its grounds, is acceptable." She pointed to his hand that had the ring on under the gauntlet, "Realmwalking does not work outside of the Citadel grounds…but you have a workaround. An ancient spell that no one uses anymore, because the essence expenditure is far too great." She frowned, "It does bring security concerns to light that I will be addressing with our master of warding."

Felicity flew over to the door that Eloise had pointed to, and she put her ear next to it. "Wow, they are going at it. So loud. She's a screamer!"

Tristan blushed and looked back to Eloise to distract himself from Felicity's comment, "Do you have a map of the place?"

"Open your Omnitome."

Tristan pulled the small, notebook sized object from his pocket and flipped to the front cover. He saw on the inside sleeve a fold-out section of paper that showed the whole island of Yustat – with more, smaller folds that revealed zoomed in sections. And on the section labeled "long term guests", he saw a series of blinking dots with names next to them. Himself, Felicity, and Eloise.

Eloise looked over his shoulder, "You can see where Felicity is, and myself if I'm not at my desk. Just don't come bothering me if I'm in my chambers, please. I do have personal hours."

Tristan folded the map back into place and began flipping the pages, "Do they ever end?" he asked as he kept flipping and flipping far past the number of pages it should have held.

"No," she replied. "It is an endless repository for knowledge. A table of contents will appear at the front, organizing itself by default. A very handy artificed item." She pointed to his chamber door, "I need you and Felicity to tap your pins to that door to register the room."

Tristan walked over and grabbed the pin, unclipping it from his cloak and placing it on the wooden door. Felicity flapped over and did the same. Both pins glowed with a deep, violet light before fading. Eloise spoke once more, "And just like that, you two have the means to enter and exit – don't lose the pins, or else I have to replace them. And I will charge you." She glanced at the Omnitome she pulled from her hip pouch, "If you will excuse me." She tapped her staff and vanished.

Tristan looked down at Felicity who was practically hopping from foot to foot as she waited for him to open the door. "Ready-"

"Yup!" She shoved the door open, revealing a short hallway. To one side was a lavatory with a tub, some type of spickets, and a toilet like what Tristan saw in the Blackspire when he was the king's guest. Several pegs for bags and clothing were in the hallway, and as he entered with Felicity and shut the door, the darkness of the room settled in around them. It was quiet. Extremely quiet. He could hear Felicity's slight breaths with perfect acuity.

He led the way down the hall and entered the main chamber. A large, two-person bed dominated the center of the room; with crisp, neatly folded blankets that appeared inviting and gave off a sense of sumptuous elegance mixed with the austere nature of a scholarly pursuit. Two nightstands that doubled as bookshelves held oil lanterns, their flickering light sending a dancing cascade of shadows across the walls.

Along the foot of the bed were two trunks. "This looks nice enough," Tristan said. He glanced back at Felicity and saw her grin, and that brought a slight smile to his face as he turned forward to. He spotted something along the wall – a wooden panel that was well hidden, with a latch above it. Unlatching it, he caught the wood as it fell towards him. Gently setting it down, he saw chains extended out to make a writing desk that could be easily used from a seated position on the bed.

Felicity flapped over to the bed and shifted to her Elfanoid form. She opened up her storage dimension and began pulling out some clearcool elixirs, placing them on her bookshelves. She was humming to herself as she did so, and her cheery disposition rubbed off on Tristan as he found himself smiling.

An alcove behind the wooden desk had several sheets of parchment, inkwells, and ink pens – not quills, but fancy, upper-nobility pens that loaded the ink into a small chamber and released it with a slight squeeze of a trigger along the grip. He set the Omnitome down on the desk, grabbed a pen, and quickly performed the Discern Artifice spell. He did the same with the pin.

Omnitome

Endless Knowledge (Fourth) [Memory] [Conjuration]

This book will copy everything written that is touched to the front cover. It will automatically categorize information stored in this fashion, and has endless capacity for knowledge.

Citadel Student Pin

Limited Teleportation (First) [Teleportation]

The user may teleport within specific confines or restricted areas.

"Straightforward enough," he said as he finished writing out each spell. Taking stock of his essence capacity, he was pleased to find that he had plenty left to spare. "Mind getting all of the spell books out?"

"W-a-y ahead of you," Felicity stated as she rapped her knuckles, prompting Tristan to turn around. He saw the spell books piled up on the bed. "Ready to go!" she said with a grin. "Exciting, isn't it? Being a student?"

"I figured you would hate the routine," Tristan replied as he began touching each book to the Omnitome and checking his new knowledge repository to ensure each book was transcribed over.

"You know me too well," she said with a sigh. "I hate them. The same thing day after day is just…there's no room for mischief! But, I can learn transmutation. That will make me even better than other fairy dragons. I'll be even more of a princess compared to them."

Tristan continued feeding his spell books to the single repository. As he was reaching for yet another book on the bed behind him, he felt Felicity shift her weight closer to him as the bed slightly bent. "What is it?" he asked.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, "Nothing. Just annoying you."

He cracked a smile as he finished the last of the book transfer. "Mind putting these all into your storage space? We can put them back in the Fey Realm for fairy dragons, nymphs, and anyone else to use."

She waved her hand, and the storage dimension appeared next to the wooden fold-out desk. Tristan shoved the books into it – save for the Omnitome, which he put into his hip pouch – and put the wooden panel back up. She sighed as he stood and her arms fell away, prompting him to glance back at her. "You…" she began to say before going silent.

"I…what?" Tristan asked as he took off his armor and set it in the trunk at the base of the bed.

She sighed, exasperated, as she threw herself back onto the bed. "So d-u-m-b," she groaned as she covered her eyes with her hands.

Doing his best to ignore her overt dramatization, Tristan finished taking off his armor and rested the maul and bow against the base of the bed, bringing the dagger up to the bedside table to set it next to where he would sleep. Then, he finally gave her his full attention. His feelings weren't hurt by the comment, he knew that she was just joking around and light insults were one way she did so. "I might not be the smartest around," he replied, "But maybe being a student here will help fix that."

She bit her lip slightly and looked like she was about to speak, but she stopped herself and rolled over on her side as she wriggled under the covers. "You just don't get it," she mumbled finally. "I've been trying…" she trailed off, then, she let out a groan and pushed her head into the pillows. "It's so obvious!"

Tristan laid down on top of the covers and sighed as he sank into the soft mattress, "I think I get it," he said softly. He shut his eyes and chose to confront the issue head-on. "We've been sharing a bed together for what, four Seasons, now?"

"Four Seasons and six days," she replied.

He rolled over on his side and tentatively reached an arm out over her shoulder, pulling her in close to him. He could feel the curve of her body under the covers against his, the soft fabric preventing the two from making contact. Tristan lowered his voice to a whisper, "I've never been sure how to approach this," he said hesitantly. "I…I've heard you…talking in your sleep about me. But when you're awake you don't talk about it." He could hear his own voice trembling and felt an almost-fear at his own actions. "I…I think you love me." The words tumbled out before he could stop them. He could feel the tension seize his chest, the fluttering of his heart beating faster than it ever had outside of a fight.

He felt her go stiff in his embrace, and she began to fumble her words slightly, "What do you mean you hear me talk in my sleep? What makes you think I'm talking about you?" She sounded defensive, and the way she almost recoiled away from him made him feel like he had gravely misread signals from her.

Tristan let her go, "…I guess I was mistaken." He shrank away from her and felt his face burn red with embarrassment. Was I just misinterpreting the small gestures? The little comments? The innuendo-laced humor that was more personalized and less overt? He felt like he had just overstepped some boundary and ruined a friendship forever.

She rolled over and looked at him, her eyes widening at his reaction. She scooted closer to him, not letting him retreat. "S-e-r-i-o-u-s-l-y?! You think that I was talking about someone else in my sleep?" She giggled, "You are so inexperienced in love."

Tristan cracked a wry grin. His intuition was on the right path. A prankster through and through, even in this, he thought. He felt that warmth return once more. "I mean…you don't know what my experience has been," he said coyly.

She lightly punched his arm, "I know you aren't experienced with…this." Her smile was dazzling, and he couldn't help smiling in response as he felt that warmth swelling in his chest.

Tristan sighed, "You're good at seeing through someone who is bluffing or lying." He knew she was playing a game here, and he wanted to play along with her.

"I'm great at it. Both seeing through it and lying," Felicity replied with a sheepish grin. She slowly slipped out from under the covers, joining Tristan atop them.

"I'm…" Tristan sighed, "I am wholly inexperienced in matters of the heart. We've been traveling companions for a good while now, and I can't help but say that I've grown closer to you." He clasped her hand and could feel her heartbeat through her palm, echoing his own racing pulse. "I know there's precedent for a fairy dragon and Winterbloom, since my forebear apparently took on a lot of lovers."

"She was a s-l-u-t," Felicity said with a giggle as she traced a hand along his bare chest, gently caressing his abdomen before stopping teasingly above the belt. "The Matriarch used to tell me the raunchiest stories about all the depraved things they would do. One time, there were five of them tending to-"

Tristan silenced her with a simple, gentle kiss on the lips. He felt the same tension in his chest from earlier unravel and loosen as he felt a surge of joy. As she returned the kiss, tongues dancing upon each other's lips, he felt a happiness he had never felt before. For a moment Tristan felt no sensation save for the wonderful feeling of a loneliness he didn't know he had been carrying was lifted from him. Lost in the embrace of someone that he truly, deeply cared for. She wrapped her arms around him and he could feel her warmth pressed against him.

She pulled back and giggled in delight, "I can shift my body to anything an Elf's could be. Do you have any preferences?" Her body shifted height and features, from a petite, thin, and flat young woman, to a buxom lass who caused the bed to creak, to her then-normal form of just-slightly-shorter than him and slim.

"I think I'd find you beautiful in any form you took," Tristan replied as he brushed one of her hairs behind her antler, which shrunk down slightly as her form shifted to be more equal to his height with a pronounced bosom that was still covered with a tuft of fur and small, overlapping scales.

"Then this is my preference," she said as she jostled slightly on the bed, drawing his gaze towards torso and filling him with a sense of desire and longing.

Tristan wanted to lean in and kiss her again, to explore her body in a passionate embrace, but did not. He clasped her hand that was touching his face. He had one more thing to say, and it was vital that Felicity understood it. He felt that slight tension in his chest, wanting to do more, to act more – but needing to make his intentions crystal clear.

"I…I want one thing to be clear." He took a deep breath and slowly let it out, "I don't want to be with someone who feels like they have to be with me. I don't want some…weird power dynamic where you obey every order I give you. In this, we're equals."

Felicity made a slightly pouty face, "You're not forcing me to do anything." She twisted her hand around in his grip and clasped it. "I want this." She shifted on top of him and sat upright, and he was very aware of his own vulnerability in the moment as her fur and the tiny, rainbow scales shifted and revealed more womanly features until Felicity looked just like an Elf with the small, brown antlers on the top of her head.

He could feel the tension between them, the air buzzing with an increasing tempo as his heartbeat kept racing, the pulsing in his temples as he has eyes only for the beautiful woman atop him. He yearned for her, and wanted her – but he was kept still by his lack of knowledge and experience.

Thankfully, Felicity broke the tense, heavy silence. "Remember that joke?" she asked as her voice became huskier. "The one about the favorite position for fairy dragons in battle?"

Tristan laughed as he recalled the joke and the punchline, "On top."

"C-o-r-r-e-c-t," she said she leaned down and kissed him passionately. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, listening to instinct as she led the way into bliss.

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