.^^ The Labyrinth Path ^^

— Idun —

The molten core of my planet was made almost entirely out of Mithril and Platinum, to my surprise. About 2% was Gold, and .5% was copper.

After transferring all the magic and spell-work from the Mithril I'd looted into my Shade, I tossed it all in, then most of the platinum that I'd earned as well, and the gold.

I decided, after a bit of deliberation, that access to this place would be entirely impossible for Dragons, as the only entrances would be human sized. My Chimera and I would be the only Keepers of this Secret Hoard.

The path was already treacherous, from the surface down to this place, but I now restructured it, making it even more difficult to traverse, and intentionally confusing, even including optical and magical illusions. Only the Keys, (of which there were now 10, each opening a section of the maze in a different tectonic-plate/continent,) would lead and protect you as you entered the labyrinth.

Once finished with the building in the Core, I began to organize. I had kept the magical items, and the knowledge that my Vault was much more organized and open than before made me smile. I expanded it anyway, unintentionally basing the new design off of Glass's Museum.

Once I noticed the mirror imagery, I tsk'ed, and redesigned, making it look more like an art gallery, with each piece displayed, and catalogued.

The clipboard with all the items inside was very useful, but I also knew it had a twin, in Syral's Office, so I destroyed it, and replicated the effect, setting the resultant scroll in my room.

The star of my Hoard was one of the few sets of armor that I hadn't melted, that of the Caesar. Pure Platinum, lined with the melted, (but unrefined), bones of a Silver Elder And those of a Golden Elder.

The power of the Silver bones resisted others reading your mind without permission, as the Silver Elders had the ability to decide who they communicated with with impunity. The power of the Gold ripped apart any and all hostile magic that came into contact with it, making Mages useless.

Had I attacked the Caesar with anything other than my hands, it would have failed, and I would be dead.

The armor was powerful, useful... and damn-near the most beautiful armor I'd ever seen, crafted by someone who truly was a master of the art of Forging, and who was also an artist, an inseparable and clearly perfect mixture.

The crown and sword were also there, resting on a mannequin. The sword, made of Golden Elder bones and steel, was the most practical object of the set, it and its twin dagger. The crown itself was made with simple melted dragon bones and silver, nothing fancy.

That is, unless you were considering it from the vantage point of the original Bone Wreath, awarded to the General or Admiral who won a major battle, the first of its kind, it was probably only meant to be given to a general, and was instead awarded to the Caesar when he conquered Paris.

Paris was retaken, and never did Rome step foot upon German Soil ever again, after the Recompense of the Parisian Drachenjägers. Enraged by the lack of military aptitude of the leaders of the city, they and their companions and Familiars took over the effort, annihilating the enemy troops in a single, fell swoop.

It was a good memory, if violent. It was also why when I looked next to the stand, and saw the Caesar's heart, I didn't flinch. A grisly trophy, to be sure, but I couldn't bring myself to throw it out.

Here was true, indisputable proof that I had killed a man; even if he was a close minded fool who started pointless wars and slaughtered babies in their cribs, he was a human, a sentient being, and even if I'd been under magical compulsion, I'd killed him.

One day I would find Karma for that, but not just yet. As unfortunate as those events were, Rome was at war with Germany. I wouldn't be surprised if this situation led to their internal collapse, which would be ideal.

"Admiring your collection?" Glass spoke, leaning against the wall between two of the pieces.

"Reliving old memories." I tapped the crown, and then turned, looking at him. "What do you need? And stop coming in here, by the way. I have never strolled into your Vault, and I never will. Show me the same courtesy."

He bowed his head. "Sorry. But yes, I need something. There's a legion of soldiers in front of the City. The outside one."

"And why tell me, instead of Syral?" I asked.

"Because they're here for Idun, Heir to the Parisian Drachenjägers." He shrugged.

I groaned. "I suppose my ruse didn't work..."

"No, I exchanged a bit of conversation with their messenger. Chatty fellow. Seems they're only here to hunt down the last of the Drachenjägers. There's a Legion on its way to Cairo as well, for their Branch." He shrugged.

"Oh goody. Fun times. Now go see Syral, and tell it what you told me. If I need help, I'd like the backup." I grabbed my crystal sword, allowing my Shade to enchant it with the same spells and effects of the gold and silver Elder Bones.

He hummed, and darted out of the Vault, then the tower.

I closed the Vault, and grumbled as I made my way up to the mirror that led out, one of many, which were parallel to locations in the City, each with their own mirror.

I stepped out, and winced at the sunlight, which was much brighter than the false star I'd been using for light on my Marble. "I'll have to fix that... can't have my dragons going blind..." I murmured to myself, and then started walking towards the gates.

"Allo, boys! How's business?" I asked the messenger in front of the closed gates, surrounded by three young Mages.

"Well, 'e 'asnt moved, says he wants te speak te you." One spoke with a strong Canadian English accent.

"Oh, a Canadian, eh? You're a Cutie." I booped his nose playfully, and looked at the messenger closer.

Strong muscles wrapped thin bones, making him lean, but powerful anyway, and the way his knuckles were scarred by blades, not contusions, I knew he was a street rat, like I had been, and friends of mine.

He smirked. "Got an eyeful, Heathen?"

My sword tapped his throat casually, and he froze, not having seen me draw it. "My name is Lady Idun. You will address me as such, or I'll send your tongue back to your friends, and throw you into the Canyons."

He snorted. "Canyons? That's your big threat?"

"Yes... see, I don't directly murder people, but the things that live in those Canyons don't get fed enough. They're hungry. They're always Hungry. They're so tiny a bite would only bleed a drop from you, but they travel in packs... you'd last maybe a day... if you found water, you'd last maybe a week, but no man has ever survived more than an hour and stayed sane." I explained softly, and pricked his skin casually, then sheathed my sword.

"You're not going to-... is this a trick?" He asked, looking warily at the trainees.

"No... I suspect you'll be wanting to show me the respect I deserve, now, Hmm? So there's no need for nastiness. Just because we're enemies doesn't mean we have to be discourteous to one another, now does it? Boys, shoo." I flicked my fingers at them, and summoned two chairs, sitting in the one facing the gate.

He cleared his throat, and sat down slowly. "I've never heard of those Canyons." He said in way of starting a conversation.

"Oh they're my creation... see these mirrors? Each goes to a little... Marble. Not very big, but fully customizable, for many purposes. One has a giant ball of water for a planet, filled with Breeding Crachen, to keep them from going extinct... another is my Canyons, filled with Dragon-Flies." I smiled.

He paled. "Those are extinct for a reason."

"Yes. Because you feared them. That's not a good reason to kill something, you know." I shook my head sadly.

He sighed, and then leaned back, regaining some composure. "I was sent with a message, and you should listen to my Praetor's commands."

"Should I? Curious. Tell me, then, I'll decide over a cup of tea." I created a tea table casually, and poured some boiling water over teabags I'd pulled from my Vault.

He ignored it, to my disappointment, and spoke instead of his master's demands. "We only want you. We don't want a feud with Syral the Nightingale, nor do we want to inflame any old wounds... but your people have insulted the Caesar for the last time-!"

"This tea is from Atlantis, my boy, and you're letting it over-brew. It is 17,000 years old, and was brewed by the first documented Green Elder Dragon, Fan'Azem, who was obsessed with horticulture, and Tea, in particular." I interrupted reproachfully, and took a sip of the delicious brew.

He shivered at my tone, and took a loud gulp of the tea, likely burning his tongue, but he nodded, apparently impressed. "That is good. Made by a dragon, you say? Odd."

"Only if you view dragons as mindless beasts." I waved a hand dismissively.

"No, I meant that a dragon would brew tea. Do they even have taste buds? I assumed they didn't, because of the barbs on their tongues." He answered easily.

I smiled. "Ahh, that's what you meant. Yes, they do have tastebuds, the barbs are actually Bone-structures on top of said tastebuds. They taste things just like us. Don't you, Bergen?" I asked easily.

"Indeed." He replied, his giant skull directly behind the man's skull, loud enough to rattle the steel table.

The soldier didn't twitch, making me clap softly, actually impressed. "That, my dear, is a truly impressive amount of fortitude! The Legions are lucky to have you!"

He smiled. "It's not the first time a dragon has tried to intimidate me. I find them unremarkable, however, in any actual battle."

Bergen snarled softly, and settled his right paw around the man, without anything touching him. He fit between two of Bergen's toes.

The man paused, and then looked at them. "But that... is the first time I've ever seen a Fledgling the size of an Elder... interesting. Anyway, you have 24 hours to comply, or the entire city burns, blah blah, you know the song and dance." He stood, and drained his teacup. "Great blend, however. Thanks for the tea."

He walked around Bergen, and when he started through the portcullis, I called after him warningly. "If you are not in the Camp, when I come Knocking, I won't look for you. I'm not as thorough as Syral."

He paused again, his foot out of the gate, and looked over his shoulder, then laughed under his breath. "Cute."

As he walked towards his camp, Bergen landed next to me. "I wonder if I could torch him from here..."

"He came under the flag of truce. Tomorrow at Dawn, you can roast as many as you like, if Syral doesn't get wind of this." I shrugged.

"Oh it's far too late for that..." Syral appeared from smoke, and looked at the retreating form of the soldier.

"We have until tomorrow, then... game of Gin?" I asked, flourishing the deck of cards I hadn't actually played with since I made them, I realized.

It raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"The rules of engagement. They set a date for the Battle. You can't attack before then, it's rude, cowardly, and against the Ether-Knight's Code, as well as the Drachenjägers Codex." I explained.

It smirked. "Ah, Yes. The Rules. In your own immortal speech, quoth the human Idun, 'Fuck the Rules'."It turned into a flock of nightingales.