Jasper, naturally, caught the first greateagle out of Siroc he could find. The dragon in disguise had the right of it; only suckers hung around to speak with the authorities.

He didn’t have any teleportation spells to get away, but nobody was willing to chase down the orichalcum-rank ‘excusing himself’ from a situation. Besides, that Caldimore worm could make himself useful and deal with the logistics. What else were nobility good for?

The greateagle took him to Tilden, and he caught a conveniently-timed Convoy to Meridian with only one interrupting stop, which meant he’d be there by next morning. He didn’t buy a Lounge ticket, not now that he had escaped the nightmarish deep north. He had coin to spare, but not so much he would throw it away.

The next twenty hours he spent making a nuisance of himself in a range from tipsy to drunk, excusing the binge on how Mae had sent him out during the Peace Day Festival of all things. He was due celebration during the dull ride back.

Especially since he couldn’t indulge around her. For an alchemist, she sure had strong opinions on substances and how they were used. Or maybe because of that. He supposed it made sense, in retrospect.

After sipping on a health potion to clear the remnants of a hangover, sniffing his shirt and finding the smell acceptable enough, he stepped out into the faint gray light of pre-dawn, stretching his arms wide and gazing around at Meridian’s busy Convoy Station.

“Wonder if she beat me back,” he mused.

The Iron Vipers had their own sort-of guildhall, which was more an alchemy lab in the crafting district with living spaces thrown in as an afterthought. The place belonged to Mae, but she let her teammates stay there when they wanted.

Swinging the door open, he yelled out in announcement, “I’m home, sweetheart!”

“In here,” Mae called from, unsurprisingly, the lab. “And don’t call me that, you idiot.”

He wouldn’t be surprised if she hadn’t slept yet. She’d gotten back much earlier than him, though, if she’d had time to start experimenting.

He walked up and leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms and studying the elf. She wore thick protective clothing, gloves, and eyewear, and held two glass vials, pouring one into another with a steady hand.

“You’ve been drinking,” she said, not glancing over.

He paused. There shouldn’t have been any giveaways, but he hesitated to lie outright.

“Informed guess,” she said, stealing a look out of the corner of her eye. “You really shouldn’t. Your brain barely functions when sober. Don’t inflict yourself on the world when you’re drunk. To say nothing of how bad it is for you.”

“Eh, that’s what health potions are for.”

“Health potions aren’t a panacea, and you know that. Not even at our level. They don’t prevent the long-term organ deterioration associated with substance abuse. They don’t even fix immediate trauma with complete consistency.”

His shoulder still twinged from a hunting incident a few years back, so he knew that well enough. He was considering sneaking a sip of that potion the dragon had given him to be rid of it.

“And it’s a compounding issue,” Mae said. “Especially important for the long-lived. Humans can get away with abusing their bodies because they’re here and gone. Live more than a few centuries and habits catch up. Your health matters. Take it seriously.”

They both quieted at that. For good reason. It was a major source of tension between them.

It was reasonable, Jasper knew, for an elf to refuse to romantically involve herself with a human by the simple matter of mismatching longevity. That didn’t mean it wasn’t frustrating when he knew they both wanted it. She had literally admitted as much. But Mae had a stubborn streak to rival a mule, and she didn’t do ‘flings’. Early on, she’d told him that she would only consider it if he reached Titled, so that if they became serious, she wouldn’t ‘blink and lose him’. She was probably speaking from experience, so, again, he couldn’t blame her.

There were easier ways to get laid than earning a Title, but it turned out he was equally stubborn. And, to his utter mortification, helpless when it came to this woman. She’d turned him into a damn celibate. Dad would disown him if he found out.

“Welcome back though,” she said. “I expected you to take longer. You have it?”

“I do.” He pulled the item out—the one that had sent him to the far reaches of the Northern Kingdom to begin with.

The [Arctic Essence Gland].

Mae took it, peeked into the wrapping paper, then tucked it into her inventory. She had skills that prevented the spoiling of alchemical reagents.

“Excellent. How many did it take?”

“I killed five.”

“Five?” Her eyebrows shot up. “Lucky you. It’s a rare drop. It should have taken dozens.”

He snorted. “Nah, I bought it. Came back to town after the first trip and one of the consortiums had gotten its hands on some. Multiple. Apparently there was a big influx of parts. Someone went out and slaughtered a damn battalion of those things.”

Mae paused. “That doesn’t make sense. The environment…the scarcity…the Hoarfrost Plains are over the Granite Spines, they’re incredibly difficult to get to. And even for level eight hundred, Frostmaw Titans are ridiculously durable. They’re terrible hunting targets, both for experience and coin.”

“I’m aware,” Jasper said dryly. “I suffered three days of that frozen hell.” And in that time only found five of those beasts. He’d have killed for a tracking skill. “Thought I’d have to go out again, a full week or more, but thankfully, that wasn’t the case.”

“But who?” Mae asked, her brow furrowing. “The Hoarfrost Plains are awful hunting grounds, and hardly a place a stray Titled might pass through when coming from another city. That’s why I couldn’t get my hands on any to begin with. The entire market has been dry for decades.”

Jasper rolled his eyes. Mae was obsessed with answers. She had that sort of mind that refused to see something strange and accept it. “Some Titled from Prismarche, or immortal, visiting for the festival,” he said, “flew over and—”

His teeth clicked shut.

Wait. A passing-through immortal? Cleaning up a bunch of Frostmaw Titans simply because they’d been nearby, and for that level of power, the downsides Mae had mentioned weren’t a big deal?

He started laughing.

“Oh, fuck me. There’s no way. Right?”

“What? What is it?”

“I’m in her debt twice over.”

“Her?”

He shook his head in amusement. “Probably a coincidence.” He wasn’t sure though. “Either way, thank the gods I didn’t have to hunt those bastards myself. You owe me a huge favor. Nearly froze my balls off.”

“The potions I make go to the team, not just me, so that’s your reward.” She eyed him, inordinately caught up on a minor detail. “Her? What ‘her’? Who are you talking about?”

He waved a hand. “Nothing. Just a dragon I met.”

Mae paused, her burgeoning jealousy morphing to interest. And it had been jealousy. Her interest in him but refusal to act on it was the whole damn problem. He could have moved on if she wasn’t always giving off obvious, if accidental, hints.

“A dragon,” she said. “Outside the Sky-Pillar Range?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you certain? She’ll be executed for that. And she just told you she was one? Or transformed?”

“Of course not.”

Mae’s curious if disbelieving expression flattened. “It wasn’t a dragon, then. Ugh. I don’t know why I believed you.”

“It totally was. I’d bet my boots on it.”

She squinted. “Why?”

“Had to have been there. Just acted…dragony. Had horns too. Well, that’s because she was shifted as a demon, but it didn’t help the impression.” A pause. “Also, she was throwing around tier-fourteen magic like [Magic Missiles].”

That brought Mae’s curiosity back. “You’re exaggerating.”

“For once, no. Might’ve been higher. Heavens, Mae, I don’t even know how to describe it. Disintegrated a level twelve hundred just like that.” He snapped his fingers. “Then she picked up the Convoy.”

“What?”

“Half of it, anyway.”

“Jasper! Start from the beginning.”

“So, the Convoy derailed, and then she picked it up.”

She growled in frustration and stamped her foot. “The one you were on? How did you get back so fast, then?”

“The dragon put it back on its tracks,” he repeated. “You’re a bad listener, Mae. It makes me think you don’t care.”

“I am not in the mood for this inanity,” she threatened, shaking a fist at him, trying to seem intimidating in that way that was very compromising to his resolve.

“Well, from my perspective, I’ve explained everything clearly. And that reminds me. I brought back a gift for you.”

Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You did?”

“Irresistible to centuries-old crones that I am—” He gave her a meaningful look, making it clear he was lumping her into that category, and Mae’s expression promised murder, “—and incredibly talented with my tongue,” the phrasing was accidental, but he wiggled his eyebrows to capitalize, and Mae’s face turned red, “I convinced the dragon to bestow upon me, for my heroic actions, a boon. After proposing marriage, which I humbly declined—as my chivalrous heart belongs to another—she gave me one of her potions in reward.”

Mae was so instantly intrigued that she forgot to glare at the ridiculous pageantry, or poorly ignore the reminder that yes, he was still interested, and that wasn’t going to change.

“A potion from a dragon? That does, actually, sound interesting. Let me see it.”

“Alas, I couldn’t identify it, so I sold it to the first alchemist in—”

“I will kill you on principle, Jasper. Stop with the idiocy and pull it out already!”

He pressed a hand to his chest, expression affronted. “For an old crone to proposition a virtuous young man so directly…have you no shame?”

To his immense amusement, Mae’s brow furrowed, and it took her a full two seconds to understand the joke.

 Unfortunately, while she did immediately turn bright red, she withdrew a potion from her belt and began unscrewing the cap.

Hastily, Jasper said, “I’ll forgive the brashness just this once.” He knew when to retreat, and the crazy 80th rank alchemist opening up a revenge concoction was most certainly the time. “Check it out: dragon potion!”

He presented the strongest healing potion he’d ever seen in his life—ever heard of in his life.

The distraction, thankfully, worked. Mae slowly screwed the cap back on, peering at the object of her sudden fascination. He wondered if she would be able to inspect it, or if it would be too high-level for even her. Which would be insane, considering she was one of the highest-ranked mortal alchemists in the world.

The alchemist who had literally brewed potions for the Party of Heroes.

Every emotion save shock melted off Mae’s face so fast that Jasper immediately had his answer.

“What level is it?” he asked.

Mae staggered a step backward, and Jasper’s amusement drained. Her shock had turned into something else. She’d gone pale as a sheet, and her eyes locked to his with some mix of emotions he couldn’t identify.

“Jasper,” she said, voice hoarse. “Where did you get that potion?”

He sensed that now wasn’t the time for jokes. “I told you. A dragon.”

“What did she look like?”

He hesitated. “Demon. Pale, red eyes, white hair, curled horns.”

“How tall was she?”

There was no way the question had come out of nowhere. “Little pipsqueak. Seemed annoyed when the Caldimore mistook her for a kid. Which, fair enough.” He spoke the words rotely, thoughts sprinting. “Why? You know of her?”

Mae leaned heavily against a table, seeming like she couldn’t support her own weight anymore. She started laughing, and there was a hysterical quality to the sound. She wasn’t the type of person to lose composure like this, even for good reason.

He didn’t like this interaction anymore. “What?” he demanded. “What is it?”

“Jasper. I made that potion.”

He digested the announcement.

Looked at the glass container in his hand.

Considered the memory of a short demon waving her staff and lifting half a Convoy with no apparent effort.

And, finally, understood.

“Oh,” he said. “Oh, fuck me.”

***

Saffra woke feeling unusually well-rested. Stretching her arms wide and yawning, she kicked her blanket off and sat up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

No nightmares. Always a blessing.

She sat there for a minute, slumped over and desperately wanting to lie back down and sleep an hour longer. Finally, she cracked an eye open against the harsh light.

A screen hovered in front of her.

She was awake in an instant, excitement and anxiety flooding her.

An unprompted screen? That could only mean one thing. But already?

Her heart beat so fast in her chest that her eyes skipped across the words several times before she calmed herself enough to understand the mystery of language again.

***

Status Gained! [Exclusive Apprenticeship XII]

[Exclusive Apprenticeship XII]: You are the sole apprentice of an individual closely aligned in Class who exceeds your level by more than 1500. {Receive 1000% Experience Gain.}

***

Saffra had been through a lot these past couple days. But that…that was too much. She sat on her bed, frozen, as she read the status five, six, seven times, and failed to comprehend it.

She knew Lady Vivi was strong. Easily on the level of the Institute Archmages, probably even stronger than Archmage Aeris himself, a veteran of the Age of Cataclysms.

But this?

Fifteen hundred levels higher?

Saffra was at the cusp of 400. That put Vivi at 1900. That…wasn’t possible. That was higher than the Party of Heroes. On the same footing as truly legendary immortals, and stronger than some of the Cataclysms. Even dragons weren’t that powerful on average. Not even close. Only the Dragon King himself and maybe—a big maybe—some of his direct progeny.

Those thoughts going through her head, she finally understood.

A pit opened in her stomach. She came to the only conclusion that made sense. She could only ignore reality for so long; there was no choice but to face the truth when it was so glaringly obvious.

Saffra wasn’t just apprenticed to a dragon.

She was apprenticed to draconic royalty.

END OF BOOK ONE.