(Fledinem)

12:30pm, 17th of Eleasis, 20th year AB (After Breaching)

Fledinem Dragons sat in a room with a wolf, and tried to act normal. It wasn’t easy. He wasn’t exactly sure what normal was yet.

The room he was in was a very nice one, and so probably was not normal. At least, as far as rooms go. His room back in Finnly Canton had been sparse, small, and crudely made. The floor had given him splinters.

This room, on the other hand, was adorned with paintings, ornaments, and even the odd weapon. Cabinets took up one of the walls, tapestries another, and the one large desk that occupied the space near the curtained window was made from the finest mahogany, and was of excellent craftsmanship. 

The carpeted floor felt soft beneath Fledinem’s bare feet. He wriggled his toes deeper into the fibres of the fur rug, enjoying the sensation.

The room almost smelled of wealth, and oozed position. So it probably wasn’t normal.

The wolf, on the other hand, probably was normal. She looked a lot like a normal wolf. Her fur was a sleet grey, her eyes were amber, and she stared up at him from her spot by Fledinem's feet as she sensed his attention. After a moment, she nuzzled her head up against his hand, and he scratched her behind her ears fondly. Her name was Lupa, and she was his friend. She’d been with him for a couple of months now. That made her normal. Right?

But, the butler who’d let them in clearly hadn’t thought so. He'd wanted Lupa to wait outside. Fledinem had had to insist that she needed to stay with him. Fledinem’s eyebrows furrowed. How was he supposed to keep up with what was normal if people kept changing the rules?

Suddenly, Lupa’s ears perked up, and Fledinem’s further contemplations were interrupted. There was the sound of footsteps heading towards the study. Two sets of footsteps, one light and graceful, the other clunking and heavy.

The door to the study opened. The first to enter was the greying butler, Calliban, head of Lord Vance’s servants. His graceful step had been the lighter of the pair. He was leading in another guest, an armoured man in his late twenties.

“…the master will be here shortly, Mr Hawke. If you’d like to take a seat inside the study, we’re still awaiting a few more guests.”

The newcomer nodded awkwardly as Calliban left, then turned towards the room. He looked at Fledinem. Then he did a double take.

“You’re blue,” he noted. Fledinem frowned. That was often the first thing people noticed about him. Why was fluorescent blue skin that shimmered and shifted colours iridescently so strange to people?

The man flushed a little, sensing that he’d made a faux pas, and reached out a muscled hand. “Ahem. Well met, friend. I’m Alex Hawke, professional hero. Saver of cities, fighter of evils.”

Fledinem stood to his full seven foot height, and reached out his own hand. He’d learned about this custom. “I’m Fledinem Dragons. Er, wearer of clothes, shooter of arrows, friend of doggies.” Yes, that sounded about right.

"Ah, jolly good, jolly good. And did Lord Vance mention to you what all this was about?"

"Er," Fledinem responded chagrinned. "I'm afraid I don't know much about it."

The man looked up at him and nodded awkwardly, and for some reason the conversation petered out after that. All three of them sat in silence as a large grandfather clock in one corner ticked quietly. Fledinem didn’t mind too much at the lack of conversation, though, as he had Lupa, and she was all the company he needed.

Over the next half an hour, four more guests were brought into the room. The first, another human, who introduced herself as Marion. The second, an automaton servant, which Fledinem would have taken for a human except its face was ceramic. Marion told everyone not to touch it. The third, an elderly-looking dragonborn in some kind of robe, who identified himself as Dovakiin. The fourth was a darker-skinned woman with braids in her hair and a surly attitude. She wore light-coloured warrior garb. She gruffly introduced herself as Solstice before spending the rest of the time glaring at anyone who made eye contact with her.

None of the guests really struck up a conversation with each other. Each just sat quietly in their respective seats. Two more chairs had been laid out, but these remained empty. The grandfather clock ticked slowly, marking the passage of time.

Fledinem began to feel a little antsy. It was getting a bit crowded in here, and he was beginning to feel claustrophobic. Given the choice, he’d much rather be outside in the daylight with Lupa than in this quiet, twilight room with these awkward, staring people.

Lupa sensed his discomfort, and nuzzled up against him, offering her support. Fledinem stroked her fur again, grateful to her. She was the only real up-side to his last few months here, the one thing he’d regret losing if Jezediah Vance kept his promise.

Jezediah Vance. The man who would send him home.

At that moment, the grandfather clock chimed the hour. 1pm. 

The man they were about to meet.

The door opened once more.

“Distinguished guests,” intoned Mr Calliban in a solemn, silken voice. “May I present the master of the house.”

Lord Jezediah Vance III stepped into the room. Old, yet coiled like a spring. He was well dressed, and walked with a dark wooden cane, although he did not seem to need it. Black-tinted spectacles obscured his eyes, and yet Fledinem felt a slight chill as he intently studied each one of them. He did so carefully. Deliberately.

Almost hungrily.

“Finally,” he said, his intent face allowing the faintest hint of a smile. “Are we ready to begin?"