A Fateful Decision

Gathering the entire party at the dining table in the main keep was not difficult. Balerifon knew these halls, he knew every nook and cranny of what lay within Drake’s Peak.

Balerifon sat at the head of the table, with Lavender and Robert taking seats to his left as Hazel and Dora went to his right. Planted on the table between them was a perfectly smoothened emerald, a gently pulsing glow emanating from within.

“That’s purty,” Robert nodded. “But what is it?”

“It’s a summons stone,” explained Dora. “Back in the days of the Empire, it was a way for the Emperor to send messages to and from his nobles.”

“That sounds real useful.”

Dora shrugged. “It’s got tradeoffs. As great as it is for getting a message out fast, it’s limited in what that message can be. You’re either sending a lot of very short messages or one long one before it needs to recharge.” She reached across the table to tap the stone with a claw. “This one I’ve got stored has to be from theirs. And I’ll bet all the gold I have they knew I’m with you all.”

That wasn’t a bet anyone was willing to take. Not after how Balerifon set the Bee’s Knees on fire.

Dora’s claw lightly pressed into the sending stone. The stone’s pulsing glow flashed and then remained alight as an image of Lord-Prince Albert Vallois appeared on the table. It was partly see-through, his natural colors faded. But the figure as tall as the length of one’s hand was unmistakably the Lord-Prince.

“House Wea’Vor. You are at Drake’s Peak. I am coming to meet you. Honor safe passage, and my entourage shall reveal the Unspeakable Truth.”

The image vanished as the last syllable of the message was spoken.

“This is a trap,” mused Lavender. “He wants to finish the job and doesn’t want Balerifon to get the drop on him.”

Hazel tapped her cheek in thought. “It is a trap. But I think it’s a trap we should spring.” She slid her hands flat onto the table and looked to everyone else present. “This is an opportunity for us to learn why our father was overthrown. Why, as far as we know, Lavender and I are the last living members of our family.”

Robert chewed on his cheek. “But how’s he get around the whole ‘speak it and ya die’ part?”

“Because my parents will be with him.” All eyes turned to Dora, who had slouched in her chair. “Neither my mother nor my father ever swore loyalty to the Emperor. They only crossed the Sea ten years ago and weren’t of noble stock. It was only after the revolution ended that they gained peerage.”

Lavender was surprised. They’d come the very year that her father sent her away. “Your parents know what the Unspeakable Truth is? Do… do you know?”

“No,” admitted Dora. “My parents said that it was something that deserved to be ‘buried in an unmarked grave.”

Hazel’s theory about the Unspeakable Truth was holding fast, while Lavender had to admit her own was taking on water. Or… stirring from a mind control… stupor. She needed to work on her analogies. “How do we know he’s telling the truth? He could be lying about what the Truth is.”

Balerifon interrupted. “I’ll know. Remember, I am bound to that Oath the same as he. If he tries to lie or has someone try the same, I can call them out on it.”

Everyone else at the table seemed determined to accept the Lord-Prince’s offer. Lavender found herself the lone holdout. Hazel had already decided to move forward with it, starting to coordinate with Dora on crafting a response to send back.

As the two women focused on the precise language, Balerifon began moving to serve everyone food. Plates of ham with assorted ruffage, vegetables, and sauces floated from across the keep where they’d been cooking in the kitchen. Napkins and cutlery were sliding themselves onto the table in positions for everyone to enjoy.

But as everyone enjoyed a dinner cooked through the magic of someone with centuries of experience, Lavender kept stewing on something she hadn’t brought up to anyone. Because she was unsure of how to approach the subject. Let alone who to broach it with.

Her best option was the one she wanted to speak to the least.

----

The dinner itself was pleasant enough. Lavender had grown so used to Balerifon’s cooking that it struck her by surprise everyone else’s reaction. Hazel, Robert, and Dora all found the meal filling and more than satisfying.

Lavender lingered after everyone finished before excusing herself. She took her time navigating the halls of the keep; Lavender knew which corners she needed to turn at. It still didn’t take her long before she found herself in the modest kitchen of the keep.

Such a place was not normally of use for a dragon. Dragons did not need to finesse their meats for consumption, for they were on a ‘seefood’ diet. They see food, they eat food. Balerifon only kept it stocked for so he could properly salt and spice whatever he created for Lavender. Lavender remembered being dragged in here after every meal, being handed a wand, and being told to train herself on cleaning the dishes. Or repairing them when the spell went wrong and one shattered on the floor.

Now, Balerifon was lazily waving a wand at a dozen dishes dunking themselves in a sink lined with suds. Sponges kept dipping in and out of the soapy water and gently applying themselves to the dirtied dishes.

“I’m surprised you’re bothering with the wand, old man. I thought dragons were the masters of magic.”

Balerifon did not turn around. “Maintaining this shape ties up more of my mana than you would think. If I tried to cast with these bare hands, I’d go cross-eyed from the strain.” He didn’t bother moving his arm or his wrist. Instead, the wand gently swung up and down between his fingers. “What’s on your mind, whelp?”

It was no use playing coy. That would insult his intelligence and waste her time. “It’s the Lord-Prince Vallois. I don’t feel good about this.”

“Have you ever met the Lord-Prince?”

“Yes.”

That was not the answer Balerifon expected. The wand snapped to attention in his hand. With a single motion, every scrap of food left on the plates vanished and the now-cleaned plates stacked themselves into a neat pile. He rested the point of the wand in his palm and finally turned to look at Lavender.

“He came to see me after I won the Princess Knight Brawl. And he knew who I was.”

Balerifon sighed. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner? We could have avoided that ugliness with the Guild.”

“I would’ve!” Lavender huffed. “But then I fell asleep early that night and I figured we could drop off Dora back at the Bee’s Knees and be on our way.”

That earned a groan from Balerifon. Lavender wasn’t sure why – it wasn’t like he’d had anything to do with her falling asleep.

Balerifon flicked the wand around, an arcane yearning spell creating a chair for him to sit down on. “Expound.”

“I don’t know how to explain it,” Lavender confessed. “But when I saw him, I was upset. More than anything, I felt this boiling in my blood. That I had to kill him.”

At the mention of ‘blood’, Balerifon’s hand snapped to attention. Lavender felt a new chair take out her legs and push her to take a seat.

“You have my undivided attention, whelp.”