Arianda woke to the soft, chiming light of Veridia filtering through the geode-like window of their room. The air smelled of clean stone and something faintly sweet, like crushed crystal. She stretched, feeling Zariel’s warm weight shift against her side. His mind brushed against hers, a sleepy, contented hum. Morning. The word formed not in her ears, but in the quiet space behind her eyes. She smiled, tracing the ridge above his eye with her thumb. Morning.

Down in the courtyard, the usual morning routine unfolded with a new energy. Simon was already there, excitedly preparing the tools to work on Zariel. Lilith worked quietly beside the water pump, her movements methodical as she rinsed Moss. The blue dragon whelp lifted her head, droplets flying, and let out a soft, chuffing sound. Lilith froze, her hands stilling on Moss’s neck. Her eyes went wide.

“What?” Arianda asked, setting Zariel down by a basin.

“She… she laughed,” Lilith whispered. She looked from Moss to Arianda, her calm face breaking into pure wonder. “I heard it. Not with my ears. Inside.”

Across the courtyard, Kira let out a sharp, startled breath. He was staring at Raltz, who was staring back, the larger red dragon’s tail giving a single, slow thump against the flagstones. Kira’s analytical expression was gone, replaced by naked shock. “You’re… annoyed,” Kira said aloud, his voice low. “Yeah these early mornings are a pain but they’re our friend.” Raltz gave a definitive snort, a puff of smoke curling from his nostrils.

Simon watched them, his hands slowing on Raphaela’s back. His usual smile stayed in place, but it tightened at the edges. He caught Arianda looking and shrugged. “Guess the brainy bunch is catching up. Took ’em long enough.” He went back to preparing the dyes, a little more mechanically than normal. “Don’t worry, Raph. You and me? We’ve been on the same wavelength since day one.” The red whelp nudged his hand, and his grin softened, becoming real again.

By the time they finished with Zariel—his silver scales gleaming faintly under a strong, strategic layer of crimson dye—the smell of baking bread and sizzling meat was pulling them toward the inn’s common room. The space was a cavern of warm, glowing crystal, tables scattered like islands. Nine of their fellow travelers were already there, the buzz of their conversation bouncing off the walls.

Nyra was balanced on the back legs of her chair, pointing a piece of sausage at Dain. “—so I told the guy, the ledge was only *technically* off-limits—”

“And that’s why you got banned from the Natural History Museum,” Sera finished, rolling her eyes before turning to Tomas. “Have you *seen* the glasswork on the spires outside? It’s not just blown, it’s *grown*. I need to get closer.”

Leo shoveled eggs into his mouth, listening to Garrick and Rook argue about the structural integrity of the city’s arches. Elira and Joan sat together, speaking in quieter tones, their water-whelps curled at their feet. The innkeeper, Elara, and a few harried-looking workers wove between tables with platters and pitchers, a study in efficient motion.

No sign of Diego, Swan, or any of the wardens. The absence was a palpable space, leaving the room feeling both lighter and strangely unmoored. They were just kids in an inn, for a moment. Arianda slid onto a bench beside Lilith, with Simon and Kira taking the opposite side. Zariel settled under the table, his head on her foot.

For a few minutes, it was just the clatter of cutlery and the simple, profound pleasure of hot food. Then Leo swallowed a mouthful and said, “So. The mind thing. That’s real, huh?”

Lilith nodded, her crystal blue eyes bright. “It’s not words, not really. It’s… feelings. Images. A sense of knowing what they mean.”

“Raltz thinks your braid is messy,” Kira said flatly, not looking up from his plate. A ripple of laughter went around the table. Lilith’s hand flew to the back of her head, a faint blush on her cheeks, while Moss made a sound suspiciously like a draconic giggle.

“Raltz is judging everyone’s table manners,” Kira added, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Especially yours, Leo.”

Leo blinked, halfway through another bite. “What? I’m eating.”

Kira finally looked up, completely serious. “You chew like you’re in a race against starvation.”

“That’s because I am,” Leo shot back. “Have you seen how fast Simon eats?”

“Hey,” Simon said, pointing his fork defensively. “I eat efficiently.”

Raphaela huffed under the table, a faint puff of warm air brushing against his leg.

Arianda tilted her head slightly, catching the flicker of emotion from Zariel—amusement, warm and steady. It echoed through her chest like a second heartbeat.

“It’s weird,” Tomas said, quieter than the others. He was watching the small ripple of movement beneath the table where the whelps shifted. “It’s like… they were always there. We just didn’t know how to listen.”

Elira nodded softly. “Like trying to hear something through water. And now it’s clear.”

Rook leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “Or maybe they just decided we were finally worth talking to.”

“That’s rude,” Sera said immediately.

“That’s honest,” Rook replied.

Nyra grinned, rocking her chair back another inch. “Nah, I like that. Means mine’s been judging me this whole time.”

Dain, sitting beside her, glanced down at his companion, then back at the table. “Mine’s… calmer than I expected.” He paused. “Or maybe I’m louder than I thought.”

“That tracks,” Sera said.

“Hey.”

A small wave of laughter rolled through the group again, lighter this time. Even Garrick’s shoulders relaxed as he leaned back slightly, though his eyes still flicked occasionally toward the doorway.

Arianda took another bite, letting the warmth settle. For the first time since the mountains, the tension wasn’t pressing at the edges of everything. It was just… quiet. Not empty—never empty—but steady.

Then the door to the common room opened.

The shift was immediate.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t dramatic. But the air changed.

Diego stepped inside first, his presence filling the space in a way that had nothing to do with size. Swan followed at his side, calm and composed, Serena just behind them. A moment later, Sherief slipped in like a shadow, Balor’s heavier steps close behind, and finally Christofer—his expression already set, already assessing.

Conversations died down in small pockets as the trainees noticed them.

Diego’s gaze swept the room once, taking everything in—the food, the laughter, the relaxed posture.

He smiled.

“Good,” he said. “You’re eating.”

Simon gave a small nod. “Yeah. We’re on it.”

Diego ignored that entirely, stepping further into the room. “Finish up. Ten minutes.”

That was all he said at first—but it was enough.

The mood shifted again. Not tense. Not afraid. Just… focused.

Kira straightened slightly. Garrick set his fork down without being told. Even Nyra dropped her chair legs back to the ground with a soft clack.

Arianda felt Zariel stir beneath the table, his awareness sharpening in tandem with hers.

Something was coming.

Diego clasped his hands behind his back, waiting—not rushing them, but not giving them space to drift either. Swan spoke quietly with Elara near the counter, while the wardens spread out just enough to form a loose, natural perimeter.

When the last few bites were finished and the plates began to empty, Diego nodded once.

“Good,” he said again. “Then let’s begin. He stepped toward the center of the room, turning so all of them could see him. “You’ve trained together,” he continued. “Fought together. Survived together.” His silver eyes moved across them, pausing just briefly on each face. “Now you learn to function apart.”

A small ripple went through the group—subtle, but there. Arianda felt it in herself too. Not fear. Not exactly. Just… awareness.

Diego gestured toward the doorway, where the light of Veridia shimmered faintly through the glass beyond.

“This city runs on trade, not power. Out there, your strength means very little unless you can apply it.” A faint smile touched his lips. “So today, you’ll represent this caravan.”

Simon leaned forward slightly. “Like… actually selling things?”

“Exactly,” Diego said.

Nyra grinned. “Oh, this is gonna go great.”

“We’ll see,” Diego replied smoothly. He began to divide them, his tone shifting just slightly—more deliberate now.

“Arianda, Simon, Kira, Lilith—you’re with me. Swan and Serena will join us.” No surprise there—but it still settled something in the group. A center point established.

“Nyra, Sera, Dain—you’re with Sherief.” Nyra’s grin widened. Sera looked intrigued. Dain just nodded once.

“Garrick, Leo, Joan—Balor.” Garrick gave a short, approving nod. Leo glanced between them, then followed. Joan folded her arms, already assessing.

“Tomas, Elira, Rook—you’re with Christofer.” That one landed differently. Tomas straightened immediately. Elira’s expression grew more focused. Rook’s brow furrowed, just slightly. Christofer didn’t speak—but his presence alone was enough.

Diego let the silence sit for a moment, then continued. “Each group has a task. A product. A goal.” His gaze sharpened, just a fraction. “You are not playing merchant. You are merchants. What you bring back determines what this caravan becomes next.”

Simon muttered under his breath, “No pressure.”

Kira didn’t respond—but his posture said everything.

Diego’s smile returned, easy and familiar—but there was steel behind it now.

“You have one hour to prepare. After that—” he gestured toward the city once more, the glass catching the morning light— “You go to work.”

Diego waited until the other groups had dispersed, then motioned for Arianda, Simon, Kira, and Lilith to follow him to a quieter corner of the common room. Swan and Serena drifted over to join them.

“Your task,” Diego began, his voice low and focused, “is high-value negotiation. We’re trading for impact-resistant glass.”

Simon’s eyebrows shot up. “Like… bulletproof glass?”

“Bullet?” Diego echoed faintly. “You mean shot—musket fire. Sherief told me of those. That doesn’t exist here. Not yet. But the glass holds against arrows well enough.”

He gestured lightly toward the city beyond.

“The artisans here have perfected a method of layering and tempering that makes it incredibly durable. We need it for a project.”

His gaze shifted briefly, landing on Sherief across the room as he spoke with Nyra’s group.

“Sherief’s expertise was instrumental in its development. He introduced the core concepts from his time on Earth.”

Kira crossed his arms. “What are we offering in return?”

“Livestock. Hardy breeds from the southern valleys, fit to improve their herds. Plus coal and fuel oils for their forges.” Diego leaned against the wall, his expression thoughtful. “It’s a fair trade. They get sustainable resources; we get a material crucial for defense.”

Lilith tilted her head. “Defense against what?”

“That’s the other part of the lesson.” Diego’s eyes held a strange weight. “Sherief, despite looking older than the rest of us, is actually the youngest of the wardens. By a significant margin.”

Arianda felt the statement land in the quiet space between them. She glanced at Sherief—the silver streaks in his dark hair, the weary lines around his eyes that seemed carved by deep thought rather than years.

“He’s a genius,” Diego said simply. “When he observes something, he doesn’t just see it. He understands its mechanics, its potential, its every permutation. He gathers knowledge like a desert gathers heat—intensely, and all at once. Putting him and Sage together was… explosive. Their minds fed each other. They made so many breakthroughs, so rapidly, that the mental strain aged them both drastically.”

Serena, who had been silent, spoke softly. “Knowledge has a weight. Carrying too much, too fast, bends the spirit. And the body follows.”

“Their last collaboration,” Diego continued, “was a series of designs for armored vehicles. For war. The impact-resistant glass is a key component.” He pushed off from the wall, his demeanor shifting back to the practical. “That’s your context. You’re not just trading for pretty windows. You’re acquiring a strategic material born from a mind that sees three steps ahead of a threat none of us want to name.”

The group absorbed this in silence. Arianda traced the cool, smooth edge of the stone table beside her. She thought of Sherief’s patient guidance during training, the way his corrections were always precise, rooted in a deep understanding of why the air moved a certain way, why the flame flickered. It hadn’t felt like teaching. It had felt like sharing a fraction of a vast, internal map.

Simon let out a low whistle. “So we’re basically arms dealers.”

“Merchants,” Diego corrected, though his tone held no judgment. “The world has needs. We facilitate. Understand what you’re trading, and why. It matters.”

Zariel, perched on Arianda’s shoulder, nudged her cheek with his snout. A wave of quiet concern flowed through their bond, mixed with a sharp curiosity. He was listening.

“How do we start?” Kira asked, his tactical mind already engaging.

“Swan will take the lead on the initial barter,” Serena said. “You will observe, support, and learn. Listen to how she frames the value. Watch how the artisans assess ours. Your job is to make the partnership feel solid, trustworthy.”

“And don’t,” Swan added with a faint smile, “mention the armored vehicles. We’re discussing ‘reinforced transport for hazardous terrain.’”

Lilith nodded, her blue eyes serious. “A half-truth that’s still true.”

“Exactly.” Diego checked a slender, ornate timepiece he drew from his vest. “You have forty minutes now. Use them to prepare your minds, not your packs. This is a different kind of focus.”

He and the two wardens moved away, leaving the four trainees and their dragons in the corner.

Simon ran a hand through his brown hair. “Okay. So. No fireballs. Just… talking good.”

“Persuasion,” Kira said, already scanning the room as if assessing it for sightlines and cover. “It’s just applied pressure. Different vector.”

“It’s about connection,” Lilith murmured. She was stroking Moss’s blue-scaled head. “Finding what they need that aligns with what we have.”

Arianda looked toward the inn’s entrance, where the shimmering glass city waited. The chiming she’d heard earlier was clearer now—a gentle, crystalline music carried on the dry air. “We should understand what the glass means to them,” she said quietly. “Not just what it does. Diego said it’s their craft. Their pride. We’re not just buying a product. We’re… valuing their work.”

Simon looked at her, his usual sarcasm softened. “How do you do that?”

“You ask questions,” Arianda said, thinking of her father’s stories, how the best ones always started with a question. “And then you actually listen to the answers.”

Raphaela, coiled around Simon’s ankles, chirped agreement. Zariel echoed it, a soft rumble in Arianda’s mind that felt like affirmation.

For the next while, they sat together in the corner, speaking in low tones. They discussed not tactics, but people. They guessed what the glass-smiths might care about—reliability of supply, quality of coal, the health of the livestock. They practiced holding still instead of fidgeting. They reminded each other to breathe.

It felt, Arianda realized, like a different kind of training. The quiet before a different kind of test. The city’ chimes marked the passing minutes, each note a reminder that in this place, value was measured in trade, and their worth was about to be judged in a currency they were only just beginning to understand. The workshop sat just off one of Veridia’s brighter avenues, but the moment they stepped inside, the world shifted.

The heat came first—not overwhelming, but constant. Controlled. Like standing too close to something that could burn you, but chose not to. Light followed.

Not sunlight, but refracted brilliance—panes, rods, half-formed shapes catching the glow of the furnaces and breaking it into shifting colors across the stone floor. It moved when they moved. Watched when they watched.

Nothing here was accidental. Even the workers moved with quiet precision, their tools placed exactly where they needed to be, their motions practiced to the point of silence. At the center of it all stood a single figure.

A long rod of molten glass turned slowly in their hands, layers folding over one another in thin, glowing sheets. They didn’t look up.

“You’re late.”

Diego didn’t miss a step. “We’re on time Ilyen.”

The rod turned once more. Then it was set aside. The figure turned. A man no older then forty three stared at them, his tanned skin glistening from sweat in the heat. Dark hair pulled back with streaks of ash running through it. His eyes reflecting everything they saw like polished glass. His hands marred with burn marks.

Ilyen Vael’s gaze swept over them—slow, deliberate, taking in details without lingering on any one thing for too long.

Arianda felt it pass over her, over Simon, over Kira, Lilith… and the dragons. It didn’t feel like being seen. It felt like being assessed.

“You brought animals?”

“Livestock,” Diego corrected lightly.

Ilyen’s eyes shifted to Arianda, then to Zariel, then back again. “And observers.” Not a question.

Swan stepped forward before the silence could stretch too long. “Students,” she said calmly. “They’re here to learn how value is recognized.”

Ilyen studied her for a moment. Then gave the smallest nod. “Then they’ll learn quickly,” they said. “Or not at all.”

They moved to a long stone table where several panes of glass lay arranged—clear, tinted, layered in ways that were almost invisible unless the light caught them just right.

Ilyen picked one up. It looked ordinary. Thin. Clean. Almost fragile. “This is what you came for?”

Simon leaned slightly, trying to see what made it different. “…Doesn’t look like much,” he muttered. Kira elbowed him—subtle, but immediate.

Too late. Ilyen’s gaze flicked to Simon. Not angry. Worse. Evaluating.

“Of course it doesn’t,” Ilyen said. “If it did, it would already be broken.”

Simon opened his mouth— Then closed it.

Lilith stepped in gently, her voice calm “Strength doesn’t always show itself,” she said. “Not until it’s needed.”

A pause. Ilyen’s attention shifted to her now. Then, slowly, back to the glass. “Better.”

The tension in the room eased—not abruptly, but gradually, like heat settling into glass. The discussion continued for several minutes more. Terms were clarified. Quantities adjusted. Expectations set with careful precision.

Then Ilyen extended a hand. Diego took it. The deal was struck.

For a moment, the workshop returned to its quiet rhythm. Workers resumed their motion. The furnaces hummed steadily. Light shifted across the glass.

Then Ilyen’s expression changed. A faint frown. “Before you leave,” he said, “there is something you should see.”

Diego’s easy composure held, his smile a familiar gleam of confidence. “What is it?”

Ilyen reached into a pocket and withdrew a coin. It caught the light immediately. Gold. Too bright. Too perfect. Embossed into its surface was a symbol a dragon, coiled tight, surrounded by a ring of blades.

Diego went still. Not visibly. But Arianda felt it. Zariel shifted against her shoulder, a low, uncertain rumble threading through their bond.

At Diego’s side, Sebastian tensed. The change was immediate. Subtle in motion—but overwhelming in presence. The air tightened.

A pressure—not physical, not visible—but felt. The tiger’s gaze locked onto the coin. And the emotion behind it was not curiosity. It was violence.

Swan moved first. Her hand came up, resting firmly on Diego’s shoulder. Grounding. Steady. A silent reminder. The moment passed. Not gone, but contained.

Diego stepped forward and took the coin. His fingers were steady. But only just. He turned it once, inspecting the surface, the edges, the weight. Then he looked back at Ilyen. “…You believed this?” he asked. There was no warmth in his voice now.

Ilyen shook their head immediately. “No.” A small pause. “Most here didn’t.” They gestured faintly toward the workshop, toward the city beyond. “We’ve traded with you too long for that.”

Diego’s thumb pressed roughly against the coin’s edge. A faint flake of gold shifted. “Rock,” he said flatly. “Coated.” His eyes flicked back up. “Poorly.”

Ilyen inclined their head. “Agreed.” Another pause. “But it’s circulating.”

That mattered more. Diego’s expression didn’t change—but something behind it hardened. “Where?” he asked.

Ilyen folded their arms. “Small trades. Outer districts. Travelers passing through.” Their gaze sharpened slightly. “Someone is testing it.”

Sebastian’s tail lashed once against the stone. The sound cracked through the room like a warning.

Diego closed his hand around the coin. When he spoke again, the charm was gone. Completely. “Then someone,” he said quietly, “is making a mistake.”

Swan’s hand remained on his shoulder. Not restraining. Just… there.

After a further short exchange the group leaves the workshop heading back to the Inn.

The walk back to the inn felt shorter.

Or maybe it just felt heavier.

The noise of Veridia returned gradually—the distant hum of furnaces, the ring of tools against glass, the low murmur of trade drifting through the streets. It should have felt comforting.

It didn’t. When they stepped into the inn, the warmth hit them first. Voices followed. Laughter.

“—I’m telling you, he tried to charge us double just for looking confused—”

“That’s because you were confused.”

“I was negotiating.”

“You were staring at a bowl like it insulted you.”

Simon blinked. “Okay, good. We didn’t accidentally ruin everything.”

The long table was already full.

Tomas was mid-story, gesturing wildly with a piece of bread. Sera sat beside him, half-listening, half-correcting details under her breath. Garrick and Leo were deep in discussion over something structural again, hands moving as if they were building invisible frameworks in the air.

Nyra leaned back in her chair, grinning. “We did fine. Better than fine.”

Rook gave a short nod. “Got what we needed. Even shaved the price down.”

Elira glanced up from her seat, her expression calm but satisfied. “It seems Veridia respects preparation.”

Joan added quietly, “And confidence.”

Lilith took that in. Said nothing.

Kira crossed his arms. “So… no one got scammed?”

A pause. Then Nyra smirked. “Not badly.” Laughter rippled across the table.

Arianda slid into her seat, Zariel settling at her feet. The familiar noise, the easy energy—it should have pulled her back into it. But her mind lingered elsewhere. Gold. Too bright. Too wrong.

Simon dropped onto the bench beside her. “Alright, I feel better now,” he said, grabbing for food. “Everyone’s alive, everyone made deals, no one started a war—” He paused. “…we didn’t start a war, right?”

“No,” Swan said as she entered behind them. Her tone was calm. But her eyes flicked briefly to Diego. That was enough. The noise at the table didn’t stop— But it shifted. Just slightly.

Diego stepped forward, the coin already gone from sight, his expression once again the familiar, easy smile. “Sounds like everyone did well,” he said. A few proud nods. A couple of grins.

“Good,” he continued. “Eat, explore, or rest. Enjoy the comfort while you have it.” A beat. “Tomorrow, we move again.” That landed. The room didn’t fall silent. But the energy settled. Less celebration. More understanding.

Arianda glanced down as Zariel’s presence brushed her thoughts again. Not fear. Not confusion. Just… awareness. Something had changed. They just didn’t know what yet.