Emary flung the door to the Merchant Guild open. She stormed up to the desk, her boots creating a loud thumping sound along the way. The woman shouted at the male receptionist the moment she arrived at the desk.
"Severin! I told you we should have sent out a search party yesterday!"
The man flinched and gestured with his hands for her to lower her voice. "Keep it down, please. What's the problem now?"
"You know what the problem is. Yesterday you told me that a search party could be assembled for Bery, and today there is no search party. Did you hear about what happened in the mountains? Mercenaries found the remains of some bandits up there. Moreover…"
"Yes-yes," Severin snapped. "I already heard about it. They said it was the doings of a dragon. I could hardly believe it myself, until the king said he would mobilize troops."
Emary sighed and shook her head. "I can't believe it. Would King Crassius really put so many people in danger?"
"I would watch how you talk about him right now. The current political atmosphere is less than advisory."
Emary shrugged. "And what does that have to do with me? If he caused trouble for me, there would be more problems than he could handle. More importantly, the fucking topic...Bery."
"You really make my life difficult. How often do you think that the Merchant Guild spares funds to find one painter? Do you really value those paintings that much?"
Emary slammed her fist against the guild's expensive brown desk. "Listen here you fucking shit. If that girl is not found, I will cause a lot of trouble for this branch, so you best locate her as quick as possible."
Severin gulped and nodded. "You're quite the scary woman, still. Don't worry, we will send money for a mercenary band. The thing is, I'm sure you heard…" The man took a deep breath and reached under his desk to pull out a half finished painting. "This was found at the scene with the bandits."
Emary grabbed the painting, running her fingers along the edges. "Imagine if your king wasn't so stupid. We'd have a more detailed report. Don't worry, that girl wouldn't have died from something like this. She's much smarter than all of you seem to think. It's really a shame she was born in a place like this."
"Come on, don't say that. The people around here looked after her. We can only do so much this far away from the capital."
Emary nodded and pulled the painting close to her. "I know. I'm just so angry. I should have known something like this would come to pass. What with the lackadaisical guards. I'm going to do what I can on my own. Do report to me if you learn anything." Emary started to leave before turning around. "Oh, and I'm taking this painting, too."
The elven woman didn't wait for Severin's answer. She stormed out of the building and slammed the doors open. Morning sunlight caressed her and the painting.
Emary gazed at the worried people walking around. Even though the market was lively, there was an air of unrest. Surely they'd all heard the news, and they were terrified of being slaughtered by a dragon.
The elven woman walked down the cobbled road with the painting under her arm, trying to remember the last time she'd seen or heard of a dragon. Being an elf that was alive for more than 400 years, she'd certainly heard stories of them. The last instance 300 years ago, a dragon had completely decimated the capital of another kingdom.
It was yet another arrogant king. King Morilak got what was coming to him. He went back on a deal he'd made with an ice dragon, and his whole capital was frozen solid, along with him.
Emary spotted a familiar meadow with delicate flowers littering the ground. There were stone benches, and at the center of the meadow, there was a large old tree. The locals of this small hamlet always said the tree was hundreds of years old and served as a guardian to weary travelers. Though, their stories were far from reality.
This type of tree with deep blue leaves was a common sight in the elven forests. It was Emary herself who'd originally planted it a couple hundred years ago as an offering to the lord at the time.
While the elf was ruminating on that thought, someone tugged on her green robes.
Emary looked down at the old lady with a wrinkled face. She was short with grey hairs protruding. The human woman likely only had a few years left in her.
"Yes?" Emary asked.
The old woman smiled and pointed at a spot in the meadow. "I was just wondering if you knew what happened to that painter who used to come here."
Emary frowned.
The elderly woman saw her expression and looked towards the canvas in Emary's arm. "Is that her painting? Can I see it?"
Emary nodded and turned the painting over. It was only early on, but the painting already had the makings of a masterpiece. There was a beautiful blue sky and rolling hills. In the distance one could see the beginnings of the town—Korilis.
"May I?" The elderly woman asked with her arms outstretched. Emary handed the woman the painting, allowing her to hold it in her own hands.
"Wow, it's just as beautiful as I'd imagined it to be. I always loved her paintings."
"You did?"
The elderly woman nodded and pointed to a bench nearby. "She would come out here sometimes to paint this meadow, or she'd bring her own small props to paint. She was always so in tune with her art that I think she never noticed me." The grey-haired woman laughed. "If she had been born somewhere else, I'm sure that her paintings would have been more cherished. It's a shame, really."
Emary nodded and her lip quivered. She bit down whatever feeling was bubbling inside of her and reached for the painting, taking another look at it. It was beautiful just as the woman said, but more than that, it was strangely unharmed. All of the raging flames of the dragon didn't damage the painting at all.
"Are you her friend, dear?"
Emary shook her head. "I don't really know if I would call myself her friend. I would have liked to be her friend, but I wasn't there when it really mattered. And I...I only bought her paintings. I also loved her art."
The elderly woman reached her aged hands towards the elf's she clutched Emary's arm and smiled. "I am sure she remembers you. Thank you for buying her paintings."
"Why would you…"
"Because if you bought her paintings, that was the reason she could live comfortably. And that was the reason she could paint here with a calm smile on her face."
Emary felt tears welling up in her green eyes. "Fuck…"
"You mustn't swear, young lady." The elderly woman patted Emary's shoulder and began walking back towards the town square. "Take it easy now, darling."
I'm older than you…
Alone with her thoughts, Emary stared at the blue tree. She could faintly see an imaginary visage of Bery standing there with paint brushes in her hand. The blue tips of her white ears would flutter.
Was I really Bery's friend?
The elf had no idea, but what she did know was that she couldn't just sit here and do nothing. She needed to get back to her homeland and ask her father for a search party. If both places were searching then the odds would be much better. However, Emary felt a feeling of dread in her stomach. It was like someone poured a bunch of rocks inside of her.
Emary was long-lived and smart enough to know that dragons were not the stupid creatures humans seemed to think they were. No, dragons were intelligent and cunning. If they were stupid, then they would not be able to live for so long. It wasn't like there weren't warrior who could fell a dragon. Even though Emary could count that number on one hand, they did exist, yet they didn't go after dragons. The reason? Dragons didn't kill and attack things indiscriminately.
Indeed, there was a reason they attacked things, and most dragons would not care to harm bandits. They were like flies to the beast. They could easily be swatted away, yet this dragon had clearly targeted them. And she left this behind. Perfectly pristine.
Everything was starting to make sense. "Was the dragon protecting her? If that's the case…"
This kingdom was making a grave mistake. The king had already started to prepare for a battle. The man running this show only had one thing on his mind, and that was the glory of himself beneath his god. Driven by the powers of the divine and his own delusions, it was likely that he would not listen to reason.
Emary channeled a green aura of magic that enveloped the painting. She placed the thing on the ground, and weeds wrapped around it. It slowly sunk into the earth with the casting of her spell.
"May the spirits deliver you to Freyline."