“I’m checking out early, Luc,” he said, dropping his room key off on the counter as he brushed by. “I appreciate your hospitality.”
“Going so soon?” the old man exclaimed, reaching for the key and eyeing him with surprise. “Well, safe travels to you. You’re always welcome here if you’re ever in Wintergrove again.”
“Of course,” Adrissu called over his shoulder, but he was already halfway out the door.
Chapter Sixteen
ThelongerAdrissuinvestigated,the clearer it became that the antimagic sword was nothing short of a marvel. The metal had been enchanted with antimagic from the beginning of the smelting process, so each layer that formed the blade carried within it a thin layer of the enchantment; to forge a weapon in such a way would never have occurred to him, but now that he had seen it, he couldn’t fathom any other way to get antimagic charms to stick. And the sheath, enchanted with the counter charm, contained its antimagic property so it looked and felt like any average blade while sheathed.
Luckily, he learned that lesson in the safety of his lair. Holding it sheathed gave him no trouble, but when Adrissu reached toward the naked blade while still in his elven form, he could feel the edges of the illusion starting to waver and tear before he even made contact with the metal. He hesitated, then touched it, and the hand became his black-scaled claw. He yanked his hand away before the rest of his true form could burst forth, holding the illusion in place.
“Incredible,” he murmured, sheathing the sword. It was certainly dangerous technology, so the longer he could keep it out of the hands of dragon slayers like Daiana, the better off all draconic society would be. No wonder the elves were so secretive about its development.
He was no warrior, at least not with a sword, but it would be an invaluable tool to have if and when he had to face off against another dragon in the future. Even if he had learned little about Tyrsun in the end, this alone made the excursion to Wintergrove worth it: now he would always have the upper hand.
He still had months to kill, however, so he continued with his tour across Autreth as he had planned, investigating local rumors of dragons along the way. He luckily (or perhaps unluckily) did not come across anyone as knowledgeable, or as dangerous, as Daiana again; instead, he mostly learned local legends surrounding dragons that were older and far more established in their lairs than himself. But much of what he discovered had the same underlying threads: legends always described dragons, no matter the color of their scales, as arrogant, vain, and cruel creatures that protected their territory fiercely, but had no qualms about invading villages and towns whenever it suited their own purposes. Their hoards kept local towns in poverty, preventing wealth and resources from being spread around.
It was interesting, learning the unfiltered thoughts of humans and mortal creatures regarding dragons. Adrissu had never concerned himself with what mortals might have thought of dragons before; but even if their opinions never put dragons in very flattering lights, they weren’t inaccurate. After all, he avoided the company of other dragons for a reason — they were all entirely insufferable as far as he was concerned.
But, eventually, he checked the last village off his list and had no more dragons in the whole of Autreth to investigate. He had a little time left before he planned to return to Polimnos—in his newest role as Adrissu the younger, prepared to assume his grieving father’s duties—so he considered stopping in Aefraya, but ultimately decided against it. Tensions between rebel orcs and the elven king were running higher than ever as the nation struggled to hold itself together, and the last thing he wanted was to be caught up in the first sparks of a foreign war. Maybe some other time. It would all blow over in a decade or two.
Instead, to build some credibility in his new, younger persona, Adrissu compiled all of Kian’s research, his transmutation ritual, and all the permutations it had gone through before being finalized. He condensed it down to the most important parts, wrote out an explanation of how it worked and why, and published his findings through the Gennemont library. It was not under Kian’s name, but it gave him some sense of closure, knowing that his life’s work wouldn’t go unnoticed. He had wanted to help others as much as he’d wanted to help himself, so the thought of all his research culminating in nothing was desperately sad. This way, at least, some part of him was still out in the world. Beyond that, all he could do was wait.
When he returned to Polimnos, Adrissu made himself look a little younger and redecorated Saltspire Tower a bit, just enough to make his new identity distinct from the last, then introduced himself to Eris, Ned, and the rest of the instructors who had kept the Academy running in his stead. He had written to Ned a few times before explaining that his “son” was to take over his position for the next term, so his arrival was not unexpected. He was sure some instructors were less than enthused that someone they didn’t know was taking over, but they would adjust.
Adrissu settled back into the job easily, though, and his obvious aptitude seemed to assuage the instructors who had silently been worried. Before long, he had fallen into the same rapport as always, and it almost felt like he had never even left. It was nice to be back in his old routine.
When he had been back in Polimnos for a few weeks, Nethendriel came to him with an unexpected proposal.
“Did your father ever consider opening a second campus?” he asked, sitting across from Adrissu in his office, which was still mostly bare.
Adrissu paused, frowning. “Not that I’m aware of,” he replied, raising an eyebrow at the half-elf. “Why?”
“I had a lot of time to think about how to help the Academy grow,” he offered, flashing Adrissu a nervous smile. “And, to be honest… I really did like being headmaster when your father was gone. I don’t want to take the job away from you, of course, but if there were two schools… Well, we’re reaching the point where we probably won’t be able to accept many more students, but if we had a second campus, there would be room to grow even more. We could help a lot more people learn. And we certainly have the funds to do it. It would just be a matter of where.”
“Hmm,” Adrissu replied, interested, but not quite convinced. “I’ll consider it.”
“I think it’s something worth looking into,” Nethendriel said, nodding eagerly. “I have some ideas, too, about where we could move it—”
He started rifling through the stack of papers that he was carrying, then slipped a few of them across Adrissu’s desk. Adrissu gave him a tight smile, not wanting to be rude despite how much Nethendriel had put him on the spot.
“I appreciate your enthusiasm, Ned, but I don’t think I’ll be able to have a proper look until I’ve finished reviewing the rest of these lesson plans. I’ll look over these next week, if that’s alright with you.”
“Of course, of course,” he answered, sounding not at all dissuaded as he stood. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Gods know everyone’s busy this time of year.”
Adrissu did not think of the matter again until the following week, when he found the papers amidst the lesson plans he’d meant to review, so he finally sat down to look at them. Ned’s write-up described ideas for a small satellite campus somewhere close enough that it would only be a few day’s travel from Polimnos at the most, but far enough away to appeal to a wider audience of students eager to receive an education in magic that was second only to the college at Gennemont. The paper listed a few suitable cities—places that were well-established, but overall smaller than Polimnos—to help spread wealth and resources. He had even drawn a few sketches of what such a campus might look like, which made Adrissu chuckle—it reminded him of the earliest days of the Academy, when they only had the three buildings that he’d been so proud of.
It would be expensive and difficult, but the thought kept coming back to him. Maybe it would be nice to spread out and attract more students—maybe he could position a second campus somewhere that he could keep an eye on Tyrsun, or some other dragon that he wanted to keep tabs on. Polimnos was his territory, the center of his wealth and his lair, so he would not leave it, at least not permanently; but the past year had taught him that there were benefits to seeing new places. He would have to be careful not to set down roots in a place too close to another dragon’s lair, but most of the places Nethendriel had suggested were perfectly feasible.
It occurred to him that giving this to Ned—heading up a secondary campus—would also likely be in his best interest to keep his own job. The others thought of him as a newcomer, so if Ned had really wanted to, he could have refused to step down and insisted on staying in his position, which would have made things quite difficult for Adrissu. Plus, Ned seemed ambitious, and Adrissu wondered if he might even look beyond being a headmaster of a second academy, trying to position himself as a candidate for Lord Representative in some other city. Headmaster of the Academy’s first satellite campus would certainly be a good place to start if that were the case.
This theory only made more sense when Eris knocked on his office door a few days later, asking to speak with him. Classes had ended for the day, and instead of her customary goodbye, she stepped into his office and closed the door behind her.
“Is something the matter?” he asked, frowning, but she shook her head.
“No,” she said, smiling nervously at him. “I just wanted to tell you—we haven’t told anyone else at the Academy yet, but, well, I—that is, Ned and I, we’re having a baby.”
Adrissu blinked, surprised, but forced himself to smile back at her after a beat of silence.
