48th of Season of Fire, Year 556 AL
“You’re really not eating ?” the dragon exalt asked, raising so silly questions in Newt’s mind.
Such as: Where would I even start?
“Yes, I am serious. No, I’m not eating you. Yes, you are my subordinate from this day forth. No, nothing changes for you or the part of the weald you’re running. You’ve been doing it for thousands of years, and you obviously know what you’re doing. We’ll even keep paying our rent, since that’s fair.”
The dragon remained silent way too long to process what Newt had said. And when she spoke, she hissed a single word.
“But?”
“But you have to help when the ti cos to confront the imperials and the cults. I believe the latter had killed Magmin,” Newt trailed off. “Right. What’s your na? It feels silly to call you dragon or dragon exalt.”
“I don’t have a na,” the dragon said. “I don’t need one.”
Newt frowned. “Magmin must have called you sothing when you served him.”
She hesitated, but answered the superior predator. “Two million four hundred and ninety-eight thousand seven hundred and fifty-six.”
Years since she has used her na? No, can’t be. Days? That makes Magmin’s death too recent. Perhaps moons?
“I don’t understand. What does the number an?”
“That was what my sire called , hatchling number two million four hundred and ninety-eight thousand seven hundred and fifty-six.”
At that mont, Newt glared at Magmin inside his realm, even if he physically couldn’t do it.
“I’ll call you Shimr,” he said after expressing his dissatisfaction with his friend. Neglected children rubbed Newt the wrong way as a matter of principle.
“Now, Shimr, I’m going to go back to the lands you have given us, and I’m going to grow and sculpt my realm. Things will remain as they were until I reach the tenth realm, then we’re going to start paying other saurian exalts a visit.”
Mana shuddered around Newt.
“What do you an ‘reach the tenth realm’?” Shimr asked.
“I’m still at the ninth, Shimr, you’ve been underestimating my power and overestimating my realm for a long while now. I’ll see you in so six or seven centuries. Until then, Magminion will continue acting as the link between us.”
Newt took a step away, then rembered sothing. “Right, don’t eat Magminion. He’s my dragon, just like you. As long as you have your uses, I will keep you around, otherwise I will make—” Newt abruptly stopped, there was no word for shoes in the serpent tongue. “Items from you.”
But that raises another question. “And what are the odds of you learning human speech?”
A deep hiss of outrage followed.
“If I must,” Shimr hissed.
“You don’t have to, not by any ans. You could learn to write; that should be much easier and less deaning.” Newt hadn’t considered how an invader forcing a local to use his language was humiliating. It seed like common sense, but after seeing the dragon exalt’s reaction, her perspective beca more obvious.
“All right, I’m leaving for real this ti. If you have any problems, send Magminion. I will spend most of my ti sculpting my realm, but I am always around and available within a day or two.”
Another great advantage of Newt’s runescape realm was that he didn’t have huge monolithic pieces to sculpt in one go. Unlike Maelstrom, who was behind shut doors for ten years already working on sothing in her eighth realm.
Newt could carve a rune and then leave while others had to either finish the entire thing in one go, or risk it falling apart and losing moons or years of effort. Add Magmin’s help to that, and the advantage had beco huge.
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He arrived at Soaring Freedom and spread tendrils of his mana all over, summoning the exalts for a eting.
“Congratulations,” the Grand Scholar said upon entering the council chamber, and others echoed him as they arrived.
“Thank you, thank you,” Newt said, then started updating the others on what had happened and how his battle with the exalt he dubbed Shimr had gone.
“Why do we still have to pay tribute if this is your territory now?” Sunset Shadow, an exalt from Runesong Order, asked aloud what Newt knew for certain many were thinking quietly.
“Because these are still her lands, and we’re not here to be conquerors. Our aim is to be allies and partners with the saurians, to establish trust, prove mutual benefit, and show them good things can happen when we’re allied. Once I reach the tenth realm for real and expand it a bit, I’m going to start visiting saurian exalts and making alliances with them.”
The Grand Scholar smirked.
“Beating soone into submission and forcing them to do what you want isn’t exactly an alliance. It’s more or less the way my family does it.” He looked Newt in the eye. “Will you kill them if they refuse to fight the imperials and cultists?”
It was a good question, one neither Newt nor Magmin had considered. The notion didn’t even occur to them.
“We’re talking about stopping the end of the world,” Newt said, trying to co up with a scenario where a saurian exalt would say no. “The world they live in. Under what circumstances would you leave such an event in the hands of others?”
The Grand Scholar gazed calmly at Newt. “Under nearly all circumstances in which I’m not drafted into the battle under the threat of death. In all other cases, I would organize my own faction to swoop in and destroy the victors that in a battle to the death must have suffered horrifying losses.”
“Magmin?” Newt said, and a thread of red and gold mana flowed out of him to form an arm-sized dragon that erged from Newt’s chest.
The gathered exalts gasped, even the Grand Scholar losing control of himself as a dragon exalt joined the eting.
“It’s certainly sothing I would do when there are two others fighting,” Magmin said with a deep human voice, “but the logic poorly translates. My kind thinks in individuals. When two factions fight, it’s the leaders themselves who are fighting. In this case, that would be the exalts. The rest wait to see who the new overlord is going to be or whether anything changes between them since most such battles end in a draw. Nobody’s willing to risk too much when they don’t know if anyone is waiting for an opening. And that’s not to ntion that exalts banding together is unheard of.”
The exalts stared at Newt and Magmin as if sothing special had happened.
“So, no,” Magmin concluded. “The odds of saurian exalts forming a unified front against us are zero. It’s sothing my kind can’t think of.”
“Newstar,” the Grand Scholar said. “Who is this dragon?”
“This is Magmin, my best friend and loyal companion ever since I awakened,” Newt paused, “seven centuries ago. Has it really been that long?”
He looked at Magmin. “Doesn’t feel that way.”
The tiny dragon shrugged while the stunned exalts gaped at them.
“You’ve had a dragon in your realm ever since you awakened?” Maelstrom’s grandfather said incredulously.
“And it didn’t possess you?” the Grand Scholar continued.
Newt shook his head. “Magmin started as a magmin serpent and grew along with . I don’t think we’ve ever had any major disagreents, and there’s no one in this world I trust more than him. Not anymore.”
An awkward silence descended upon the room before Patriarch Swordpeak spoke. “Do you wish to join the council? If you were strong enough to defeat the dragon exalt, you’re almost certainly the strongest amongst us.”
Everyone, save for Gatemaster Greenthorn, nodded, but Newt shook his head again.
“Not interested. It sounds like a bother, and I have a lot to do.”
Newt left the exalt council to consider and discuss the changed circumstances of their world, but surprisingly, Maelstrom’s grandfather followed him out, raising a few eyebrows.
“Dandelion left this for you back when you and Maelstrom got engaged.” He handed Newt a sealed envelope. “He said it’s vital to give it to you once you entered the ninth realm.”
Newt checked the envelope. It had a simple seal to ensure nobody opened it, and two words penned on it, For Newstar.
“Thank you,” Newt said to his grandfather-in-law, then went back ho, where he opened the envelope.
Inside, he found an inch-thick tal pendant and a letter.
Dear Newstar,
This amulet is sothing I’ve crafted for Maelstrom. Unfortunately, it’s a single-use item, and she will need the power of the ninth realm to wield it properly, but make sure she wears it to battle once she reaches the realm.
This is of vital importance. I’ve poured everything I could into it, as a healer, mundane physician, alchemist, and seal scribe.
I hope you have at least a fraction of my luck in your love life.
Dandelion
Newt checked out the amulet; it throbbed with layers upon layers of runic scripture, all of them calibrated for the ninth realm specifically. Newt probed it and found it to be an oddly specific protective charm. Once the ninth-realm wearer’s heart was heavily damaged or destroyed, it would unleash a powerful pulse of healing magic, consuming the remains of the old heart as a component to create a new one.
“This is worryingly specific,” Newt muttered, making a ntal note to give Maelstrom the amulet once she entered the ninth realm.
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