Tyrael opened his eyes and immediately noted that someone had taken off his cloak and put it over him like a blanket. It was probably just Mikirven though, as he was standing above Tyrael and poking his shoulder. He frowned, earning a smirk from his old friend.

"You snore."

"No I don't."

Mikirven groaned loudly, dropping his grin and trading it for a frown. "Why arentcha as gullible as before? It was fun, picking on you and all that stuff."

This time it was Tyrael's turn to frown. "Well if you just admitted that I'm not a child, it might make you feel better."

"I seriously don't know why you're so persistent about this. I'm sorry to break it to you Tyr, but you're a kid. A child."

He frowned further.

After assuring Mikirven maybe a thousand more times that he'd be fine alone, Tyrael had set off, determined to fix everything he'd done wrong. He started to make a list in his head.

First off would be Felamir, obviously. He knew that no matter what else happened, he had to apologize to them. And pay them back, too. And apologize again. The plan was that they wouldn't be alone for a day, and here they were, alone for much longer than a day. Much longer than a week, in fact.

Then, well, probably not Ghoulcrest. Tyrael was almost certain that he shouldn't go back quite yet. Maybe after a few more months or a year or something it would be alright, but not yet. He wasn't a huge fan of the idea of getting another earring, and that would almost definitely be what would happen if he went back.

Maybe Kedia and Taacin then? Yeah, that would be smart. He'd apologize to them and, when they kicked him out, he would look for more commissions. That would probably be the best course of action.

So. First would be Felamir, then the White Ravens. Then, he'd get some more commissions, to get some money. Who else was there? He wouldn't apologize to Carawin and Swallowtail, even if they tried to kidnap him again. They didn't deserve apologies.

Well, not now.

Tyrael tried and failed to ignore the guilt creeping up his spine. No! He shouldn't feel bad! They kidnapped him! And were just horrible people overall! Why should he ever feel guilt when it came to them! No one should be feeling guilt except for them!

He took a deep breath, continuing to walk in the direction Mikirven told him to go, towards Ghoulcrest. He could get mad some other time, one where he had time to waste. Maybe if he had time after everything else he could, like, report them or something? He wasn't exactly a lawyer or anything but he was pretty sure that regularly kidnapping and beating people up was illegal. Probably.

What else was there? He had a little bit of food now, since he hadn't finished the noodles from before. That would probably be enough for a day or two, then he could just have berries or something along his travels. Mikirven said that it would only take a week or so, which was nice. All of that meant that he would be fine for food, which was one less thing to be worried about. Tyrael appreciated that.

He stared down at the path beneath his feet, kicking the ground as he walked. What would he do after all of that, though? Well, he knew the day. Maybe he could come back every year to pay his respects? Was he allowed to pay his respects?

Either way, this time was nice. Even if he wasn't supposed to, he hoped it was alright just this once.

Tyrael started to feel awkward. He was usually interrupted by now. Attacked, or recognized, or robbed, or kidnapped. Or something like that. And recently his luck had been worse than ever. What else was there to happen, though? He'd always been told things about karma and getting what you give, when would that happen? Was he going to turn around and be crowned a king or something? Although, he'd probably just gotten that good luck by finding Mikirven, and a healer too.

'Oh, shoot!' The elf hit his forehead with his palm, making sure to not accidentally knock his nose again. He should've asked Mikirven how everyone was doing! He probably wouldn't get the chance to go back for at least a year, and he was certain that he wouldn't be welcome back for at least double that. He whacked himself on the forehead again, thankfully succeeding in dodging his nose a second time.

When would he get the chance to go back? See everyone? Tyrael's stomach started to feel like there were worms crawling around in it again. Mikirven was happy to see him, he should've accepted that a bit more. It wasn't like he had anyone else, so he should've tried to keep any relationships he could.

Tyrael thought for a moment more. What was he going to do now? He stopped, freezing to the spot. Would it be too long to go back to Mikirven and beg for him to come with? The elf brought a hand up to his face, looking at the sun through his fingers for a split second before quickly closing the gaps between his fingers.

It was a bit after noon, which meant he'd probably been travelling for just under an hour. Far too late to turn back now.

Pleasant.

He continued kicking the ground as he walked. Then again, would his friends even want to see him at all? Maybe it was good he only ran into Mikirven. He wasn't mad at him, but others probably were. It was good luck, he should be grateful.

Tyrael frowned. It felt off, the silence. The slow dread creeping up behind him. Why hadn't anything happened by now? Was his bad luck finally gone? No, no. It couldn't be. Bad luck didn't just go away, did it? No. It didn't. He looked around him, into the forests. There weren't any footsteps, or any mysterious shadows in the corners of his eyes. But there were rustling bushes because of the wind so, just maybe, there was someone hiding in there? Who would it be though?

He stared at one particular spot as he walked past. A horse's leg was lying in a bush, but he couldn't tell if the rest of the horse was there with it.

It slowly started to be pulled into the bushes, making Tyrael walk much faster. Nope. No way he was getting caught up in whatever that was. No thank you.

Tyrael looked around him again. There wasn't really anything special, except for the cold air. But that was expected. He knew the date now – it was officially winter, as it had been for a few days. Eleven days, to be more specific.

The eleventh day of winter.

A smile crawled onto Tyrael's face, as much as he tried to fight it. He hadn't gotten to celebrate his birthday in years! What he'd had to do was wait until the end of winter, then just say that he was a year older. He didn't know the exact date most of the time, and when he did it was usually just often just from someone yelling about the day's news in a larger town. So even just a simple cup of noodles was better than he'd had in years.

What had been the last time he'd celebrated, anyways?

He looked up to the sky. It was a more blue-ish blue than usual, and quite a bit darker than usual. When it was normally a very light blue that you'd expect to see on a dress or a shirt or something of the like, it was now more like a color of paint. It was more of a flat color as well, and Tyrael found himself staring up at it. It was hard to look away.

Ah. That's right.

That's when he last celebrated.

The elf sighed, staring back at the ground. That was fine. What had Felamir said that one time? Something about loss? Whatever it was, it was almost definitely true. Tyrael nodded to himself, getting older was good. It meant he was still alive. One less year wandering in the Beyond, whenever he left for it. He should be able to celebrate.

...Fyrdra would want him to, at the very least.

He nodded, continuing to march forward. Yeah. Sure, he was a horrible person, but other horrible people were happy, so why shouldn't he be happy? Especially on his birthday. Birthdays were good. Again, it was literally a day created to celebrate being not dead quite yet. And what was he now, fifteen? Fifteen was a good number.

This was fine. This would be good.

Yeah, this was good.

Tyrael groaned, trying and failing to ignore his aching legs. How long had Mikirven said the walk to Ghoulcrest would take? A week? It had only been a few hours since he'd started walking and he was already tired. Why was that, anyways. Tyrael used to be able to walk for almost a full day before getting tired, how come he couldn't do that anymore? He could've sworn that people were supposed to get better at this stuff when they became adventurers, not worse. Why would you ever get worse at it? That was stupider than someone getting thinner after a feast, or getting shorter and shorter as they got old.

Then again, old people were pretty short. Why were they that short, anyways?

The elf looked around again. He was now way too far from Winterbreak to go back. He was sure, now, he definitely should've asked Mikirven to come with him. Maybe he could come back the next year and ask if he could.

Yeah, yeah. That was what he'd do.

Tyrael nodded, repeating his plan over and over again to himself in his mind.

First, apologize to Felamir. Then, beg them for him to be allowed to come with. If they agree, go with them. If they don't agree, or after they get sick of him, he'd go to the White Ravens to apologize and leave the guild.

Then, after all of that, he'd just leave the valley and do some commissions to waste time until the next year came around. When it did, he'd try and make a habit of going to Winterbreak every year to pay his respects and see how everyone was doing.

He nodded again to himself, confident in his plan. Surely not too much could go wrong with it, right? There were a few things that could happen, but he could deal with those. Like, if Kedia and Taacin tried to re-arrest him, he could just jump out the window so they couldn't catch up as easily and immediately start running. Or, if Felamir hated him, he'd just nod and try not to run into them again. Or, if the next time he came to Winterbreak everyone hated him again and tried to kill him, he'd just apologize and, if he had enough energy, start running.

Tyrael nodded yet again. It was a good plan.

It'd work out.

The elf looked around again. This was starting to get a bit weird. Was nothing going to happen? Was he actually just safe for now? What was with that horse, anyways?

Did he even want to know?

No, actually, probably not.

People were weird.

Tyrael sighed loudly. He'd been walking for hours, and nothing had happened. He'd probably just had bad luck recently. There wasn't anything that implied that wasn't the case, so why wouldn't it be?

Honestly, it would be very nice if that were the case. And maybe it was. Maybe he was finally over all of the bad luck in his life and he could finally just exist.

Shoot! Tyrael hit the side of his head to avoid his now bandaged nose. Viralomm had put some tape on it and along his face, supposedly to help prevent it from being broken again. He was extremely grateful for this, so he'd already promised he'd try not to undo it, or anything like that.

But back to the 'oh shoot' moment.

Why would he go back to Felamir and apologize when he could just do something that could apologize for him?

The elf heard a weird noise from somewhere vaguely behind him, but made a firm decision to ignore it.

He nodded to himself. The whole reason he was away from Felamir for so long – the whole reason he had to apologize in the first place – was simply that he got put in jail, wasn't it? And the whole reason he got put in jail was that he'd killed the guardian of the city. And to top it all off, the whole reason he killed the guardian of the city, was that there was a dragon, and he'd killed the wrong one.

So, what if he killed the right one this time?

He thought for a minute. It was a dragon, which would already super difficult to fight, but it would probably also be an especially strong one. Given the fact that it had, well, destroyed a town and all that. Several times.

It probably used acid, too, since most of the houses had been burnt by it instead of fire.

Tyrael frowned. How had he not figured out that he was fighting the wrong dragon? He really must be an idiot.

Anyways. It was a dragon that used acid. He'd probably have to fight it alone, since he didn't really know that many people. He was much too far away from Winterbreak to go back, and even if he wasn't Mikirven was probably inside the barrier by now, so he couldn't ask him. He couldn't ask Felamir either, since they were the whole reason he had to do this in the first place. So yeah, he definitely couldn't ask them.

How hard would actually killing the dragon be, though? He'd heard that people who killed dragons were practically heroes. At least people who killed dragons who actually needed to be killed, instead of ones that were just minding their own business.

The wind was being irritatingly loud, sounding an awful lot like some ghost or something screaming at the top of their probably no-longer-in-use lungs, but the elf decided to just shrug it off with a shiver. It wasn't exactly weird for that to be the case, what with how many people had probably died on this very road.

Tyrael, shivering again, continued thinking about how he would actually do it. He couldn't risk dying, he had to apologize to Felamir. And as far as he was aware, dead people weren't very good at apologizing. He didn't really know much about the Beyond, though, so he could easily be wrong. How did it work, anyways? How could it work? Did you keep your memories, or did you lose them? If you kept them, what happened if you met someone who you knew in life? If you lost them, why?

The elf shook his head. He'd be walking for ages, he could have an existential crisis or something later. Now he had to figure out how to kill a dragon.

He didn't have any money, and any he did have would've been stolen by, well, someone. Probably when he was in jail? No, no. Throx. Any money would've been stolen by Throx, and the other goblins. They probably wouldn't have wanted to eat coins, they would've tasted too bad. Probably.

Tyrael groaned to himself. Why couldn't he just concentrate?

So. He didn't have any friends he could ask for help, and he didn't have any money to, like, hire anyone. Or anything like that. Which meant he'd be doing this alone. Didn't work out well for him last time but hey, couldn't exactly get much worse than being thrown against a wall like a speck of dirt.

Ignoring death, at least.

Death wouldn't be very ideal.

There were maybe a dozen necromancers on the continent, most of them assigned to important people. And Tyrael, someone who had previously been known in his home town as the kid whose face you never remembered, probably wasn't that important to a lot of people.

Tyrael frowned. Why did no one remember his face? It was exceedingly irritating. It took his best friend almost a month to finally be able to recognize him, and strangers didn't have even the slightest chance at seeing him and making a connection to the kid who was eating stale bread out of the trash yesterday.

Then again, it was kind of useful sometimes. He could run away from something and probably be able to go back the next week.

The elf heard the bushes rustling in the wind, which was now starting to be so loud his ears were hurting.

He squeezed his eyes shut to hide from the noise.

Why was it so loud, anyways?

He quickly brought his hands up to shield his ears. It was seriously hurting now. Why couldn't it stop?

Tyrael audibly groaned, turning to face the person beside him. "Ugh, when are we gonna get there? You said the walk wouldn't take too long!"

The figure next to him stuck his tongue out. "Don't be such a baby. This is why people don't take you seriously, Tyr! You can't even handle just a tiny bit of cold!' He grinned, running a bit ahead of Tyrael. "Betcha can't even run as fast as Beyarius says you can! Bet he's just slow!"

The younger elf ran to where his friend was in maybe half the time. "But it's cold. I don't wanna have to run, I just wanna go home. Where are we going, anyways?"

The slightly taller figure grinned evilly. "We're gonna go see the old temple. Your dad said it's haunted, and I wanna go check it out."

"But I don't wa-"

"Can't back out now, now race ya there!"

Tyrael opened his eyes, finding he was now frowning. He forgot he'd visited the old temple that one time with Mikirven. Nothing really bad happened, but there were some rats that scared him. That had given Mikirven the idea that he hated little furry things, which made him get the ferrets for the prank.

Anyways! Dragon fighting plan! Time to make it!

First, he'd have to find the dragon. He could probably find someone to give him directions, but even if he couldn't he at the very least remembered it had gone south. So, find a compass or something when he got near Ghoulcrest. He'd have to be careful Felamir didn't see him though. Maybe he could walk in a really big circle around Ghoulcrest for a bit? Then they wouldn't be able to see him.

So, when he'd found the dragon. He knew that he'd need to find a weak spot or something, where there weren't any scales.

Tyrael took out his new sword, glaring at it. It definitely wasn't sharp enough to cut through dragon scales.

He sheathed it again, still trying to ignore the howling wind and the rustling bushes.

How in the world would he kill a dragon?

"Hey, Tyr! Wait a sec!" a familiar voice called out from somewhere behind him. Tyrael whipped around to see a very scratched up Mikirven walking out from some bushes along the side of the path. He put his hands on his knees for a moment, out of breath. "I've been trying to catch up with you since Winterbreak!"

The smaller elf frowned. "What? But you're faster than me."

Mikirven grinned apologetically. "Yeah, well I had to rest a bit. I got tired."

Tyrael's frown just grew. "Are you ok? You used to be able to run as long as me, if not for a but longer. Plus, its only been a few hours; you could run for way longer than that. Are you sick or something?"

Mikirven sighed, all of a sudden voice quite a bit deeper. He coughed quickly to cover it up though. "Don't you wanna know why I followed you? Don't you want to know if something's wrong, or of something's happened?"

"Well I just kinda thought you were here to come with me. Is something wrong? Seriously, are you sick or something? You sound like you have... a cough..."

As the elf spoke, whatever was just Mikirven shifted into a different person completely.

What.

Who was this.

Why was she just impersonating his friend.

What was happening.

Tyrael stared up at the person, previously maybe a leaf taller than him but now towering over him like a building or something. Maybe he was actually a child?

Whatever! He could think on that stuff later!

The figure in front of him smirked, tucking her hair behind her ears and away from her face. Tyrael noted with more than a small amount of alarm that there was practically no skin visible on the outer edges of her harshly pointed ears. This being due to her having maybe a dozen earrings on each ear.

Eyes widening to around the size of plates, Tyrael stared at her a bit longer and noted with a much larger amount of alarm than before that she also had multiple piercings on her nose, as well as a pair near the thinner ends of her eyebrows. They were fakes, they didn't have the carved enchantments, but it didn't look like all of the ones on her ears were. She probably had at least three pairs of earrings, how many places had she been-?

The figure's smirk widened.

"Don't recognize me? Let me try something else. Do you recognize... this?"

She changed again, this time into

nope.

Tyrael quickly turned around, too tired to run but thankfully still having enough energy to walk pretty fast. He shouldn't be running in the first place, since he had bandages and stuff, so this would probably be better either way. They could get tangled, or loose, or other very bandage-y things to do. Felamir and Mikirven and probably some other people too had told him before that he had to learn when to just calmly walk away, and this was it. This was when to do that. He was doing that. Was he doing good this time? Could he go home now?

The person with now freakishly cold hands grabbed his neck to stop him walking forward, making the small elf do the weird yelp that was apparently common for him.

'Can people please just stop grabbing my neck. Ow.' Tyrael internally groaned. He'd gotten stabbed there, couldn't people just be considerate about a child's stab wounds when grabbing them by the neck?

Wait, no, it was even worse than that. It was his birthday. If you were going to grab a child by the neck and dig your painfully cold hands into their stab wounds from earlier that day, you could at the very least not do it on their birthday.

Rude.

"Gods. You really suck at this. You haven't been robbed before have you."

He shook his head, thought for a second, then shook it again. Technically yes, but also no at the same time. Yes, he'd gotten robbed once but he didn't actually get robbed. He was just... what, threatened? But then again, no. He hadn't been robbed in the normal sense yet, but he had been kidnapped, and his stuff was taken. But did that even count for anything? How strict were the guidelines on whether someone was robbing you or not?

Something clicked far too late.

Oh. He was being robbed.

"Oh um, um, I'm very sorry, I um. I don't have any money right now, but I do have half a bowl of some noodles that taste good." He paused for a split second. "Um, it's ok if you don't want them or something. Or if you don't like noodles."

The person holding him scoffed and to his relief the hand around Tyrael's neck became warmer. That was good. Meant that he could look. He probably still shouldn't try and move too much though. Probably.

How did robberies work?

"Gods. Seriously. Why do I even bother." she sighed. "I was gonna try scare you a bit, as Mira so painfully failed to do so, but this isn't even worth it. You ruined it for me."

"Sorry. Wait, Felamir? Are you, uh, Maktiem I think it was?"

Maktiem, releasing her tightening grip on the back of Tyrael's neck, sighed again. "Surprised you bothered to remember. So, where are they?"

The elf turned around to face her, taking a few steps back. "Um, Ghoulcrest. They're waiting at the border for me."

"And how long have they been there for?"

Tyrael stared at the ground in between them, taking another step back. Why was everyone mad at him today?

"How long have they been there for?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know." Maktiem growled, taking a few steps towards Tyrael again. "How would you not know something as simple as how long you've abandoned my friend in the middle of the one area they don't want to go – they can't go. So I'll ask one more time, pipsqueak."

She took another step towards him, now standing right in front of the small elf. He continued staring at the ground in front of her feet as she spoke. "How long have they been there for."

"We got there about a week after we left. I don't know how long it's been. I'm sorry. It wasn't up to me. I'm really sorry." Tyrael muttered, flinching.

"What do you mean you don't- ugh, I don't have the time for this. Not a damned people pleaser like Mira, I couldn't care less. You said Ghoulcrest, didn't you?"

The elf nodded, taking another step back and looking up at her. "Um, yeah. I, um, I know where to go if you're not sure?"

Maktiem then, not wasting time to even blink, began to walk away.

Wait, wasn't she supposed to say goodbye? Or thank you? Or alright, or ok, or literally anything. Because Tyrael knew that that was what you were supposed to do. And sure she didn't exactly seem the type to really care, but still!

The elf's face turned a few shades paler as he realized something. 'Oh shoot she's a doppelganger too wait she can no I mean you can hear me oh gods I'm so sorry please don't hate me.' She didn't really seem to care that much, though. It would probably be fine.

Probably.

Tyrael started to walk along the same path, but a bit slower than normal so that he didn't accidentally run into Maktiem. Why was she walking so slowly? The elf, noting she was in front of him and on his left, glared vaguely to his right. He then hissed in pain as a headache sharper than a knife suddenly stabbed into him like a bullet.

Why did this keep happening! There was no reason for these headaches! Would they please just stop already!

He frowned as he noticed his vision was a bit blurry. What was that about? Did he hit his nose and not realize it or something? Was he crying again? Oh gods, he better not be crying again. Tyrael's frown deepened as he discarded the idea. If he was crying now, he was officially a crybaby. No one could argue about it.

He'd already cried who knows how many times within the past week of consciousness, not even counting when he was asleep. That was far more than any non-crybaby, which would therefore make him not a non-crybaby, making him a crybaby.

Logic.

The headache left even more suddenly than it arrived, and Tyrael sneezed. Wait, no. That was unrelated.

Probably.

Weird mystery headaches could be related in some way to sneezing, Tyrael wasn't exactly an expert on either matter. But still. Probably not.

Tyrael found himself suddenly walking next to Maktiem again, and froze. No, that would be awkward. They were both walking in the same direction, sure, but they didn't really know each other. It would just be weird if they walked together. They weren't travel buddies.

The elf ignored the stab of guilt that shot lightning fast into his stomach.

But then again, she was walking so slowly! It would be as simple as blinking to just walk right past her and not have to see her for the next week. Then he could just try desperately to try and forget this whole thing and go fight a dragon.

Oh. Wait.

Maktiem was going towards Felamir with a motive unknown to Tyrael. But she would definitely tell them she saw him. Which wouldn't be good for him at all. For his plan to work, he had to somehow kill the dragon then go to Felamir with proof of the dead dragon and let them have the reward as an apology. But that would all need them to not know of the plan, or that Tyrael had any plan to begin with. And he wasn't sure exactly how doppelgangers memory mind reading stuff worked, but he knew the general idea. It was based off of memories and faces and emotions. And Tyrael had thought of maybe a dozen memories with Felamir and dragons right then, meaning Maktiem probably knew a bit of the plan.

All of this meant that Tyrael would somehow have to figure out where the dragon was, go there, kill it, chop off a horn or something, figure out where Ghoulcrest was again, go there, and give the dragon horn or tooth or whatever to Felamir all before Maktiem got to them first.

The elf internally groaned. He was fast, sure, but he wasn't that fast! No one was!

He looked over at Maktiem, who didn't bother to look back at him. Wait. Had she, like, heard that? Again, he wasn't sure how doppelgangers worked. Hopefully not though.

Tyrael went back to his usual walking pace for a split second, just to catch up with her, then slowed down again so he was next to her. "Hey, um, do you know which way's south. Or if there's a dragon there. In the, um, it'd be south of Ghoulcrest."

Maktiem ignored the elf entirely, making him frown.

Yeah, he wasn't going to deal with this.

Tyrael walked as fast as he could without finding it awkward to breathe, and very soon couldn't see the irritatingly silent doppelganger when he looked behind him. What was with her, anyways? Didn't she have even the slightest care about being a decent person? He knew she could talk, so she couldn't use that excuse. And he knew for a fact she'd heard him so yeah, she had to have been just ignoring him for the sake of annoying him.

Rude.

Who knew, though. Maybe the dragon would just fall into the path, already injured and dying from some sickness or something. Wait, hopefully not a sickness. If a dragon was sick, a fifteen-year-old elf with far too little food and water wouldn't stand a chance against whatever weird thing it was. Even if the chance was none, he still wouldn't stand it. That was how low of a chance he would stand if he got sick.

Sure, it was almost impossible, but he could always hope. Not like he had anything else to do at this point.

The elf tried desperately to remember the scrolls he'd read when he was younger, the ones about valiant heroes fighting dragons to save a prince or some other form of royalty along those lines. There was always some sort of magical sword that can't break unless it's cursed or some magical arrow that never misses but takes a magical toll on the user. Or something overly specific like that.

Which he of course didn't have.

Tyrael took out the sword he'd stolen, staring at it. He'd tried to learn how to use a sword when he was younger, and he had actually gotten pretty good at it. In fact, he was so good that Fyrdra had gotten a sword made especially for him. Maybe the next time he visited Winterbreak he could ask Mikirven to get it for him? It wasn't a regular sword either, he'd been informed when he got it that it was called a scimitar. It was pretty light, being just around Louis's weight, which meant Tyrael could actually use it. It was also a bit curved, which he'd always thought looked really cool.

This sword, on the other hand, was effectively just a mildly sharp metal stick.

It was decorated pretty well, sure, but it was just a regular sword. Boring as a rock. It was a sword nonetheless, however, which meant it was probably better than nothing.

Anyways.

Tyrael continued thinking about the scrolls he'd read, and the dragon he'd seen and fought. He wasn't a doppelganger, so he couldn't just transform into a different dragon or something like that and kill the thing. Sadly. Being a doppelganger would be cool. Wait it wouldn't be cool actually. Felamir had mentioned something about staying in a void thing for ten years. Tyrael, barely ten years old in the first place, decided that no that would not be cool. Anyways.

The red dragon he'd fought didn't have quite as strong scales near its face and eyes, at least that he remembered. Maybe he could do what he tried then with the new dragon, and try climb it? In a way? Would that work?

Oh, it actually had a chance of working. It was going to work last time, but then the dragon threw him against a wall. Which hurt a lot.

Maybe that was why he had a sore back?

Anyways.

Maybe that would work, actually. He'd just have to find a way to not fall off this time, but he could probably manage that. It'd probably be a bit bigger, which meant it'd probably be slower. And it's scales would be bigger, obviously.

This would work!

Tyrael, now smiling a bit, thought over what to do before that. How would he find the dragon in the first place? He could ask Felamir.

Wait, he couldn't.

Could he?

His plan said he couldn't, but, he didn't actually have a plan in the first place. Where did that idea even come from, anyways?

So he could ask Felamir. That was cool. They might know more than he did oh wait! He couldn't go back to Ghoulcrest without getting another earring! That was the reason he couldn't go back, not Felamir!

The elf hit the side of his head, still avoiding his nose entirely.

So, he'd have to find another village or something. Maybe he could ask Maktiem to keep Felamir where they were for a little bit? Then he could take as much time as he needed to find another town. Well, within reason. Obviously.

Maybe it'd work? Again, he'd had bad luck for ages. It could only get better from here, wasn't how things were supposed to work? Yeah. You were supposed to get what you give, or something along those lines. If you were nice, people would be nice to you.

Tyrael thought for a moment with a shiver; was that why people worshipped gods? Even though they probably knew the horrible things they did, maybe they gave offerings and things of the like not out of love, but fear.

That was probably the case for some people, if not most.

The elf shivered again, staring at the ground for a moment. Why was it so cold, anyways? Mikirven had given him new clothes, warmer ones that actually fit. And that didn't have any holes in them either, meaning he should've been much warmer than he was. And much less freezing cold. He was wearing warm clothes, so he should've been warm, but he wasn't. Was there something he was missing? Some universal fact that everyone had received when he was asleep, and that no one had bothered to tell him?

Anyways.

Tyrael took a deep breath and nodded to himself, now a bit more sure of his plan. He had to have some good luck soon. He was sure of it. Which meant that maybe Maktiem would be a bit nicer? Probably. So, he would ask her to tell Felamir he would try and apologize to them, and hopefully she would keep them there for a day or so. That would maybe be long enough to kill a dragon.

While Maktiem was keeping Felamir near Ghoulcrest, he would find someone to tell him where the dragon was.

Wait.

No, couldn't he do that himself?

Oh yeah.

He could.

The elf vaguely knew Ghoulcrest, so as soon as he saw a bit of it he would probably know which section of it he was looking at. Therefore he would know which direction was south, obviously. So he didn't need to waste any time finding someone to ask.

Tyrael nodded to himself again.

So.

Revised plan.

He'd ask Maktiem to keep Felamir at Ghoulcrest for as long as they were willing to wait, and even if they just wanted to leave he'd ask her to tell them he was sorry and was trying to make it up for them.

Then, he'd go south and find the dragon. He'd try and aim for the eyes, since there obviously weren't any scales on them. He'd attempt to kill the dragon, and he refused to die.

If it looked like was about to die, he would leave as quickly as he could and go back an hour or something later. Who knows, maybe the dragon would eventually get tired. Yeah, that made sense. Dragons were a lot bigger than people, which meant it probably took more time for them to get their energy back, right?

Yeah, that made sense. If adults took longer to get their energy back than children, and they were just barely bigger, then why wouldn't a huge dragon take a while to get better?

Plus, he was a child. Which probably made the difference even greater.

This would work.

It would be alright. If it wasn't then he was going to make it alright, gods be damned.

Tyrael swiveled around and started walking backwards towards Maktiem. Time to make this an actual plan, apparently.

a/n
6216 words

so! this is prolly one of my favorite chapters. not my actual favorite-favorite, i don't think, but still up there for sure.

question 12: would you guys be interested in a sort of spin-off book (in a way)? it'd explain a bit more about the lore of Neclerant, especially the doppelgangers. i've already started writing it and although it isn't finished i feel like it might be cool, as a side thing. it wouldn't be full novel length, it'd be more like on extended chapter, but still. 

time for more lore! maktiem's turn :D

so, maktiem is, as you've probably guessed, a doppelganger. she is a doppelganger of chance, i believe, but i may be wrong (i'll come back and correct it if i am). anyways, she's been a doppelganger for a bit less time than felamir, so around two hundred years, probably. again, i might be wrong, and if i am i'll make sure to update this if i am lol.

maktiem, as i've mentioned here in the chapter, has quite a few piercings, but most of them are fake. she does have 7 authentic piercings, though! that almost makes her the person with the most piercings, second only to one person. she got her first piercing from a relatively small crime (stealing a wealthy man's collection of pets), but after that she started to enjoy the attention. she started to steal more stuff and eventually, she wound up a doppelganger. she's only gotten one piercing since then, but she plans to grow her collection.

yeah! i haven't ironed out her backstory as much as some of the other minor(?) characters, and even tyrael's previous prison buddies both have designs and backstories, and i've even started a family tree for tulip lmao.

anyways, i doubt anyone's read this far, but yeah! that's pretty much all i have for her, hope you enjoyed the chapter though.

see you next time!