“Valtak’s children are not taking possession of his lair out of greed, dear.” Solus talked sweetly to Aran while caressing his back. “They do it to protect his legacy. After someone dies, their imprint on their artifacts and home is gone.”
“It means that anyone can steal Valtak’s equipment and break into his lair to pillage his treasures. On top of that, Valtak wouldn’t want his home to be abandoned. Don’t you think that seeing it become a dusty, cold place would upset him more than gifting it to his family?”
“I guess.” Aran sighed and checked his clothes for the umpteenth time.
He was wearing his favorite gala outfit, a three-piece deep blue suit with golden embroideries. It had been made to resemble Lith’s Archmage high uniform without breaching etiquette.
The color scheme and pattern were similar, but it lacked all the insignia of an Archmage’s status and the cut differed from a real uniform just enough not to raise any brow at the Royal Court.
Much to Lith’s surprise, after he had received the status of Void Magus and Supreme Magus, Aran had refused to change his clothes to match either title.
“Thank you, big bro, but setting my goal to Archmage is already aiming high. Any more and I wouldn’t honor you with my outfit but look like an entitled prick mooching off his brother’s success.” Aran had said, shocking his family to the bone.
For someone with his carefree and naïve attitude, that was quite a deep thought.
“Try not to embarrass us, dummy.” Leria straightened her dress even though its enchantments kept it perfectly ironed and without a single wrinkle or dirty spot. “If you are not sure about the meaning of a word, ask before speaking.”
She too wore her best gala dress.
It was golden with silver embroideries and small black diamonds arranged in a pattern that matched the colored streaks in her hair. With her sleeve-long evening gloves and wheat-blond shoulder blades-long hair straightened for the occasion, she looked like a princess.
“I’m not a dummy!” Aran snarled. “And I won’t embarrass anyone.”
“Aran is right, Leria.” Kamila scolded the young girl. “He’s not stupid and we are already tense as it is. There’s no reason to put more pressure on your uncle.”
“I’m sorry, Aunt Kami.” Leria squirmed in her dress. “It’s just… Wyrms. Lots of them. And this time Grampa Leegaain isn’t with us. Why hasn’t he come with us?”
“It’s a matter of respect, sweetie.” Kamila replied. “If he attended Valtak’s funeral and missed those of the other Dragons who died in the Fringe, it would create friction among the Dragon clans.
“Grandpa Leegaain can’t show favoritism toward one of his children without making them the target of the resentment of the rest of the Brood.”
“What about Shargein?” Aran asked in confusion. “He sure gets preferential treatment but no one says a peep.”
“That’s different.” Lith said. “Shargein is one of Grandma’s and Grandpa’s direct descendants and a perfect hybrid at that. Everyone knows of the oath Leegaain swore on the day of Shargein’s birth.
“Anyone who messes with him would incur Leegaain’s wrath. That if Grandma doesn’t get to them first, of course.”
“I see.” Leria took a deep breath to calm down before resuming to walk toward the entrance.
Valtak’s lair was located inside Mount Blackfang, an active volcano about halfway through the Jagged Maw Mountain range. When looking at the mountain peaks from afar, their steep sides covered in perennial snow looked like sharp, pristine fangs biting at the low-altitude clouds.
Mount Blackfang owed its name to the layer of igneous rocks that coated its peak and the inner heat that kept it clear of snow. Among the irregular row of white teeth, the volcano stood out like a sore thumb covered in ashes.
The main entrance to Valtak’s lair was near the top of the volcano and hidden by the clouds. It was also hard to find and filled with arrays and traps. With the death of the Father of Fire, the enchantments couldn’t be deactivated, only broken.
For this reason, everyone was using the service entrance at the base of the mountain. It was a small tunnel carved in the rock, barely wide and tall enough to let two adult men walk abreast.
The stone of the corridor was impervious to earth and dimensional magic, making it an inescapable chokepoint in case it was used for an attack. Merchants and suppliers had no problem carrying their merchandise to him whereas enemies would be easily slaughtered, no matter their numbers.
“Are we late, Uncle Lith?” Leria pointed at the many richly dressed people who were already entering the tunnel.
“No, we are actually a little early.” Lith still followed his drill sergeant’s motto.
“If you are five minutes early, you are already ten minutes late. Value the time of others like you want them to value yours.” Tepper used to say during Lith’s booth camp.
“It’s still twenty minutes before the scheduled time.” He checked his pocket watch to be sure. “I guess the other guests want to make use of this opportunity to reconnect with their brethren.”
The final hundred meters had to be covered on foot so as not to trigger the security measures. It would have been an uncomfortable walk in high heels but the women kept flat shoes, ready to shapeshift them to a slender form once they reached their destination.
“Wow!” Aran stopped, his eyes going wide as amazement trampled grief for a bit.
The Wyrms also wore their best clothes.
Male Dragons wore the Divine Beast equivalent of suits while female Dragons wore the equivalent of evening dresses. Unlike galas, however, the dress code didn’t demand the guests not to overshadow their host so everyone had gone all out.
The clothes looked made of silver, gold, platinum, or even Adamant with embroideries of small magical gemstones. Everyone carried a weapon on their side, and there was nothing ceremonial about them.
Even from a distance, Aran could feel the sharpness of the blades and the weight of the maces pressing against his skin.
As for the Dragons, they had taken the size and shape of adult humans but that was it. Some had long horns coming out of their heads while others had part, if not all of their skin covered in sparkling scales.
A few beautiful dames had long tails coming out of the back of their dresses or revealed two rows of deadly fangs whenever they opened their mouths. A handful of Wyrms even retained their complete Dragon form in a scaled-down version and stood on their hind legs.
The only thing all those presents had in common was the membranous wings coming out of their backs.
“Aren’t they the coolest?” Aran turned toward Lith, his smile quickly fading from his face.
“They are stunning.” Lith and Tista had already taken their own membranous wings out, keeping the feathered ones hidden in respect for their host.
“What about us?” Aran pointed at himself and Leria.
No matter how hard he flexed his shoulder blades, nothing came out.
“I’m sorry, lil bro.” Lith replied. “Only Grampa can temporarily awaken your bloodline.”
“Can’t you at least try, Uncle Lith?” Leria asked. “You too did it on the day Elysia was born.”
