Tristan headed back to the market area and was shocked to see dozens of Gnomes going about working on various crafting projects. The sounds of hammering, tinkering, jovial conversation between the Gnomes, Nymphs, and fairy dragons – along with a lot of lobbed insults – permeated the atmosphere. The residents from the Mortal Realm were also working on various tasks; with the Gnomes seemingly having taken on an advisor role.

Of particular note to Tristan was that the Nymphs had acquired some instruments, and their soft, gentle tones filled the air with an ambience that gave him a sense of lightness. A haunting harp being plucked ever so gently, mixed with an aria about a lover who was waiting for their beloved in a mountain retreat was bittersweet. Tristan just stood at the entrance to the Queen's Wood, listening to the music, the buzz of people working, and individuals living their lives.

This is what I want, Tristan thought as he descended the tree and made his way towards the crafting and market area. A Realm filled with people like this; happy and content. No negativity. He cracked a slight smile as he saw the young teenage boy, the son of that village chief, working with a Nymph and trying his best to learn Elvish. Smart kid, he thought as he walked over to Head Miner Willham, who was overseeing the carving of Gnome figures from stone.

"Ah, Lord Tristan," he said with a smile as he wiped his brow. "Fine setup you've got here. Almost done getting the last few of our fellows into their new bodies."

A fairy dragon flew down from above, grabbed Felicity's tail, and yanked her off his head. She woke up very quickly and let out a screech of annoyance. "Deckard, I swear I'll rip your antlers off!" She pivoted out of the other fairy dragon's grip and began chasing him whilst other fairy dragons looked on and laughed at the mid-air antics.

"How many do you number?" Tristan asked as he sat down on a nearby stool, only glancing skyward to ensure that Felicity okay. She seemed to be pissed off, but he also saw the slight grin at the edges of her mouth, and knew she was secretly enjoying being the cat in the game of cat and mouse.

"Ninety-nine," Willham replied, "With Dorni being the hundredth."

Tristan looked over to the nearby smithing bench, "I need a sword."

"Not my department," Willham replied as he turned to the stone, muttering something that Tristan didn't catch, and began smoothing the stone into the shape of a Gnome. "I get rocks and other valuables from the ground. Ask one of the boys over there making that racket with the hammers."

Tristan glanced over and saw four Gnomes who were busy taking clippings and shavings from the various metal trees, placing them into stone molds, and then creating ingots by immersing the molds into the burning-hot interior of the tree-forges. "What all can you mine up from the depths?"

"Depends," Willham replied, not looking back at Tristan as he spoke. "The results of our mining can vary. Rocks of all types, ores, too. Gemstones, of course. But we do not find veins. We find clumps or clusters." He chuckled, "The Fey Realm is a wild mistress, always giving us…interesting bounties."

Tristan stood up, "Then I leave you to your work."

He headed over to the smiths and showed them both his armor, his father's armor, and the designs in his Omnitome which had been copied over from his grandfather's notebook. After some conversation the Gnomes began taking measurements of Tristan, gathering various metal ingots together along with the harvested dragon components.

"Ideally," one of them said as he began sorting through piles of ingots, "We make the whole suit of armor out of Aegisium for its protective properties."

"But mix it with some of that Wildsteel and make an alloy!" another replied. "Making maintenance easier."

"Plus," a third added, "Soulsteel inlay to protect against nasty death spells."

"That sounds good," Tristan replied as he recalled the visceral horror and panic at seeing that summoned entity back on Maladonia that slew dozens of guards with a single spell. "I trust you all to make me the best suit of armor possible."

The first one nodded and saluted, clasping his right fist over his breast and bowing. "Lord Tristan, I do have one request."

"Hmm?"

The Gnome grinned with delight, "You have this…dragon slaying specific armor, designed for fighting the beasts. And that spell stored within to make it more protective. How would you feel about more protection?"

"It can't affect my agility," Tristan replied knowing that he replied just as much on speed as the armor's defensive qualities.

"We'll make it scale mail!" one of the other Gnomes replied. "Armored plates for the most important bits – like the chest, thighs, and whatnot – with scales for the flexible bits. More innate protection than chain, but since you have these different metals we can use, it will be light and smooth."

"That sounds excellent," Tristan replied. His gaze went over to the pile of dragon parts. Wyrm sized earth dragon scales, bones, and hide which had been cured for use. The same for the Wyrm sized demon dragon's remaining hide. The claws and teeth from both species were the same size and seemed to have the same properties. There was also a pile of Adult-sized fire dragon scales, bones, and hide. "I also want some of that," he said as he pointed at the scales. "The earth dragon scales should be good to go around the chest in some way, I'd imagine. Fire dragon scales are good sized for my thighs, shins, and forearms. Not to mention pauldrons."

The Gnomes dashed to a small huddle and began sharing out ideas. Tristan could barely keep up with their conversation, and when they started using blacksmithing terms he had no clue about, he just tuned out their dialogue until one of them turned to him. "We can do that. It will provide some protection but will primarily be aesthetic."

"I also need a sword." Tristan went into detail describing his old sword, including roughly sketching out the design.

"Hmm…" one of the Gnomes tapped a charcoal pencil to his lower lip, leaving a slight black smudge. "We could do a bastard sword – give you the reach you want, plus cutting power, and thrusting; with the option to use two hands." He looked at his fellow Gnomes, "Thoughts?"

They shared small nods of agreement and then began taking measurements of Tristan's arm and hands. "Are you going to alloy this one as well?" Tristan asked.

"Yup! Going to mix Wildsteel for the self-sharpening and maintenance qualities, Starmetal for the light weight and flexibility, and Vorferr for the hardness. It will be a thing of beauty."

Tristan grabbed his maul and set it on the workbench, "Any upgrades you could do to this?"

The Gnomes all gathered around and began pulling out small hammers, tapping on the Starmetal maul and listening to the brief ringing sound. There were small mutters, nods of agreement, and finally they looked to Tristan with one speaking. "We can make it better. We have your measurements, so we can add some notches for ease of use. Plus, more even weight distribution."

"As much as a heavy hammer like this can!" one chimed in.

Tristan nodded, "The dagger?" he asked as he pulled that out.

One of the Gnomes reached up and grabbed it, letting out a small whistle. "Impressive. As good as our work…almost as good. The improvements would require a total reforging. I'd rather make you one from scratch." He handed Tristan back the dagger with the dragonslayer quickly sheathed. The Gnome also eyed Tristan's bow, "Interesting. Too bad we aren't fletchers and bowyers. Them's the Spriggan that'll do that. They can make you a right proper bow."

Tristan chuckled, "I think I've given you lot enough work."

Felicity came flying in and landed on his head roughly, causing him to stumble forward. She was breathing heavily but dropped a small, chipped-off antler in front of Tristan. "Got it!"

"Did you hurt him?" Tristan asked, feeling genuine concern at seeing a piece of horn.

"Nah. He shed it when I yanked hard enough for him to yell "Matriarch!"" She cackled with delight before flopping on his head, "I'm pooped." She began batting his ears, whispering, "Bat, bat, batty bat, flop."

Tristan just kept his mouth shut and let her have her fun, despite the playful bats causing him minor discomfort. "Thank you for taking on these projects. We will have visitors to our market soon enough." He stood up and headed back to the dirt circle. "Felicity, ready to go back?"

"What time is it?"

Tristan flipped open his Omnitome, "Looks like evening," he replied.

She giggled with delight and pinched one of his ears just enough to elicit a headshake of reprimand from him. "Let's head back, then." She whispered, just loud enough for him to hear her. "You're all mine tonight though."

Tristan smiled like an idiot as he activated his ring and warped back to the Mortal Realm with Felicity in tow. The bedroom was just as they had left it, and Felicity hopped off of his head and onto the bed, curling up in a tight spiral. "I think I'm going to head to the Archive and check that out," Tristan said as he began spinning his crucible to activate his pin.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Felicity yawned and put her head down, "I'll be here when you get back."

Tristan activated the pin and thought of his destination. Eloise's desk. The world shifted around him, and he stood in the enormous room that had very few people in it. Must be because it's near evening, he thought as he stepped down off the slight raised walkway and into Eloise's office split off by the depression in the ground.

The woman was sitting behind her desk, reading a book, and looked over it with smiling eyes. The red eyes of a full-fledged Demonkin that seemed to stare into the depths of Tristan's soul. "Ah, one of my two assigned caseload. What can I do for you, Lord Tristan?" She laughed slightly as she put a bookmark into the tome and snapped it shut.

"I wanted to visit the Archives," Tristan replied as he pulled out his Omnitome. "I want to get as much spell knowledge in here as possible."

Eloise raised a curious eyebrow, "The Archivist will have to approve that. We limit access for a reason. Knowledge is power, and if every Omnitome carried every bit of knowledge from the Archives, well, that could be very dangerous in the wrong hands."

That made sense to Tristan, and he sighed before nodding. "Fair enough." He stood up as Eloise did, and she grabbed her staff. "Oh, one thing," Tristan interrupted before she tapped it. He flipped open his Omnitome and snatched a writing utensil from her desk. "What are your off-limits hours?"

She smiled, "So considerate of you. Well, I do not work on days ending in increments of five. fifth-day, tenth-day, etcetera. Every Season."

Tristan jotted down that note in the calendar section of his tome, "Thanks. Don't want to try to find you when you're out of contact," he said with a slight smile. "Respect for your time and all that."

Eloise tapped the staff to the ground and Tristan's reality warped around him once more before stopping. He was standing in a stone circle etched into the ground. Other circles were nearby, and Eloise shuffled him off to a walkway as the circle they were standing in began to glow before another student popped into place and left.

They were standing on a pathway that led out of a stone room that was the same style of construction as the rest of the Citadel. Eloise led Tristan to the open doorway and his breath caught in his chest as he witnessed a sight beyond anything he had ever witnessed.

An enormous library stretched out before him. Hundreds of thousands of books, tomes, and tightly bound scrolls were intricately organized in the vast space. Eloise gently grabbed his hand and pulled him down the stone steps after her as there was some foot traffic heading down alongside them. "You can gawk later," she stated.

Tristan couldn't help himself though, and just let her lead him as he stared at the large ladders that ascended along the shelves with rails that ran around the room. Catwalks extended above, connecting layers of the upper levels that ascended higher and higher. Floating orbs of flame, glowing crystals, and shimmering stars captured in suspended spheres danced through the environment, lighting the whole place up well enough that Tristan could not make out any shadows. Every corner was illuminated, every page visible.

The whole space was a giant cube, and whilst bookshelves lined all of the walls and ascended in several spots along the interior, there were dozens of seating areas with sumptuous couches, upright writing desks, and at the very center a figure that Tristan had never imagined encountering. "Is that-"

"Hey name is Betty," Eloise whispered. "And yes, she is an Endless Watcher."

Tristan had only heard of them in bedtime stories. Huge, floating spheres that were covered with eyes. Bands of gold and silver rotated around the sphere with even more eyes on those. Yet another sphere of bronze, bigger than the other two, was shaped like a lattice and covered with small tendrils of phantasmal, green energy that functioned as limbs. This Betty was organizing books, sorting scrolls, checking out materials to students, and answering questions – all at the same time.

Eloise cleared her throat as she approached one of the empty spots around the circular desk. "Hi Betty, how are you?"

Tristan felt a pressure against his temples and instinctively thought it was enchantment. He focused on the visual image of his armor – impenetrable and rigid. He felt an elbow jab him in the side, and winced as his concentration lapsed. Right, I left my armor with the Gnomes.

Ah, thank you, Eloise, for jarring his concentration.

"What is that?" Tristan asked as he looked around.

Eloise cleared her throat, "Don't be rude, Tristan. This is Betty. Betty, Tristan…well, you can find out more."

Surprisingly, I cannot. This one has some innate mental resistance. Betty's voice was very fast-talking, excited, and enthusiastic. Almost like a puppy who was yapping for its owner's attention. Fascinating. A Winterbloom Elf. I had received word that your bloodline was extinct. I'm happy to see the reports were incorrect.

"Uhm…thanks?" Tristan said as apprehension tore at his insides. I can't let her figure out more about me, he thought.

I can hear your thoughts, she replied. You might have some innate resistance, but I can still learn much Lord Tristan, ruler of the Fey Realm. Worry not, I am bound to not reveal anything about a student to other staff. A personal creed, as it were.

Eloise looked to Tristan, "I can hear her, you can hear her, but she has private conversations with everyone." She gestured, "Go ahead, ask her."

"Why ask if she can read my mind?" Tristan asked in response, feeling uncomfortable with the idea that Betty could just look into everything in his head. I need a way to protect against that, he thought.

Such spells exist, but they are of the mind spell type and thus beyond your capabilities. Unless you drank the blood of a mind dragon, which do exist. They are rare, though. And crafty. But also evil. Almost categorically so.

Tristan frowned, "How'd you know about that part of me?"

I'm a thought reader, even subconscious thoughts. Anyways, you seek spell type knowledge to add to your Omnitome. Betty's silver rings shifted and Tristan felt one of her eyes – a deep, pure-purple iris with a black center that focused in on him. I believe that given your circumstances, you should be given access to spell tomes for what you have access to now, instead of what you might have access to. As a Citadel student, you can always come here and check out books.

Eloise sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, "I'll return it tomorrow, Betty."

Tristan ignored her, knowing now that she was having an entirely different conversation with Betty. "Well…thanks. Just point me in the right direction."

One of Betty's tendrils grabbed a sheet of paper and placed it in front of him. Here is a map of the archives. She began tapping various locations and left behind a small, pulsating bead of blue light. The books you are looking for will pulse with a slight blue glow to your sight. Just keep in mind that this will only last for an hour. Please return these books once you are done with them. And do not forget! Your Omnitome does require time to process this information.

"Thank you!" Tristan replied, feeling excitement at the prospect of having dozens if not hundreds of new spells at his disposal. "Oh, one more question. Are there dragons in every Realm?"

Her eye narrowed in on him, Yes. But I warn you, not all those dragons are evil and warrant destruction. I would advise you away from slaying a heaven dragon, or a guardian dragon. Though that would give you rejuvenation and protection spell types, respectively. The eye widened slightly, I could make inquiries, if you like, about any such dragons who are nearing the end of their natural life span. It's a long shot, but possible!

She sounded quite chipper at the idea that one of these powerful creatures could be on the edge of death. But the thought of killing dragons on the edge of their natural lifespan felt…wrong. Tristan shook his head, "Thanks for the offer, but I'll stick with taking out dangerous dragons. And please do not share knowledge of my family-only spell type."

I'll inquire, nonetheless. As for the spell type? None but your bloodline may use it, so my cataloguing of it is pointless. Consider your request granted.

Tristan felt a rush of relief at that affirmation. Unsure if this entity was fully trustworthy or not, he knew he really had no choice but to believe her. Instead, he switched topics to another question. "Why are there so many books?" Tristan asked.

There are as many spell types as there are Realms. And since spell types are just elements of creation…let us just say that there are near infinite possibilities.

Very interesting, Tristan thought. Practically infinite Realms also, I'd wager. He spoke, "Ever heard of a place called Skitterhold?"

Betty's eye narrowed once more, No. But looking at your memories…that is troubling. Overpopulation? And I've never heard of these kobolds before. Which is strange, as the Citadel is considered one of the largest repositories of knowledge on The Mortal Realm. I'll inquire with Logos. Thank you for this new learning. Now, if you will please – others wait.

Tristan looked back and saw other students waiting in a short line behind him. "Sorry," he muttered as he snagged the paper and began following the small map.

Eloise followed behind him, "She is quite an interesting person," she said.

"It was weird," Tristan began as he took a left turn and began ascending a spiral staircase. "It felt like enchantment, and I think I could've kept her out until you elbowed me in the ribs."

Eloise chuckled, "Sorry for that-"

Tristan interrupted her and turned to face her. He felt incensed, and let that aggression come through in his tone. "You knowingly took me to a mind reader and struck me to allow her in." He narrowed his gaze, "Someone who could have ulterior motives or sell knowledge of my existence and capabilities to others."

Eloise looked mortified, "I'm so sorry! I didn't think of it in those terms." She pulled Tristan gently to the side, into some of the stacks of books on their shelves. She lowered her voice to an ashamed whisper, "Betty won't reveal anything about any student. She signed an ancient pact – a powerful spell – with the founder of the Citadal of Essence thousands of years ago. She's probably the most trustworthy person here."

Tristan still felt upset at his privacy being violated against his will, but that anger simmered down. "You do this to all students?"

Eloise shrugged and her voice lightened a little, "Yes. Anyone who interacts with Betty. I never thought that it would be seen in this way, since she is so integral to our organization…I didn't realize how you would perceive how invasive it was." She bowed deeply at the waist, "Accept my sincerest apologies, Lord Tristan." She stayed put for a second, then straightened up.

Tristan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, "As long as she keeps all information about me secret-"

"She has not revealed such information. She takes her pact and people's safeguarded information very seriously." Eloise's tone left no room for doubt in Tristan's mind that she was being brutally honest.

Tristan nodded, "Very well. I'll chalk it up to a mistake borne of ignorance toward possible ramifications of the event…Now I want to find a mind dragon and drink its blood," he said as he felt that slight surge of anxiety from having been affected by a spell type that he did not want to have influence over him.

"Drink the blood?" Eloise asked with interest, laced with revulsion.

"Yup," Tristan replied as he got up to the third floor and left the stairs, following the map to the farthest edge of the archive. "I drink the blood for spell type resistance."

"How? Drinking their blood would be deadly!"

"Family secret," Tristan replied bluntly, not wanting to reveal anything more. He came across the spell book that matched up to his map and was lightly pulsing blue. Picking it up, he saw that the front cover displayed a prominent icicle, and flipping through he saw dozens of ice elementalism spells. Feeling a wonderful sense of excitement akin to opening a present on his name day, he began jogging along the catwalks to the next book location.

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