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“Can't afford it."

“What?"

“I'm just saying, you won't be able to pay them enough for that."

The scout reclined in his seat, kicking his feet up on the table, preemptively tensing for the jolt that would rock the cabin in a few moments. The heavy chains latched, separating the compartment from the rest of the ship, settling into a steady, rhythmic grinding as the great wheels above them lifted them to the city. His counterpart, sitting in the other seat, hasn't been here before, didn't expect that to happen, almost fell off his chair in surprise. It was actually pretty difficult to keep steady during the ascent, but it was worth it to make the other traveler uncomfortable.

“So, what do you recommend, wait, why are we even here? You should have told me that a week ago, before we got on this god damn boat, sailed halfway across the world, saved all this," He trailed off in frustration, bending under the table to retrieve his glasses, looked out the window to observe what was happening. “What are we going to do, Marc?"

After the initial turbulence of the chain connection, and the cargo finding a new balanced equilibrium, sliding about the floors of the unit, it was a remarkably smooth ascent- if a few degrees off level. From the angle the ship had docked, from this window, there was only ocean, until the horizon, with a single ship bobbing in the distance. It was a bit frightening, especially to someone who had, until stepping foot on that river boat a few days ago, had never left Thalu, never explored beyond the safety of his home town safe for to visit the next town over, still within the same environmental archetype of “green." It felt like he had been transported into a different world entirely, with all the green field sapped away and replaced with an endless expanse of blue on one side, and a towering monstrosity of steel and stone to the other side; the bastion, the platform city, Ko-Toen.

“I said you couldn't afford Corvus. There's different ways to keep safe. And nobody in the world has weapons like Koto, except for people who bought them from them. Besides, its good to get some culture in you. We'll visit the museum after the meeting."

“Mu… seum?" He looked back at the scout, who was picking at his fingernails with a hunting knife. He had been under the impression this 'city' was a purely military endeavor, trading weaponry and training for food and construction supplies, acting as middlemen in diplomatic situations, that sort of thing. He never really stopped to think about how the people there actually Lived, but why shouldn't they have entertainment? “Huh. What about? Artwork?"

“It'll cheer you up, yeah. I heard a few months ago they got a dragon skeleton put up on display. It was dead when they found it, I assume, but it's still being put up as symbolic. That sort of thing."

They both jumped when the ascent completed, the doors swinging open by unseen mechanisms, the compartment locked into place by the strong metal claws of the city's vertical gates. An artificial island, shining steel, with platforms separated by wire and chain strung gondolas, and high, reflective towers, rising up from the ocean. He'd read that at the core of it was an actual island, an underwater mountain, or volcano, but the exiles who settled it wanted more space, so they built outwards and upwards.

“Bright up here. Windy too."

“You'll learn to like it. C'mon, we've got an appointment. You're the guest of honor. City defense is what funds most of this, granted mostly from larger citystates, but the charter says they'll treat you the same; I mean, at least during negotiations, you'll still only walk away with what we pay for, I mean, uh, hold on I got kid of verbally, uh, never mind that, let's just go."

---

The meeting room was, perhaps he would describe it politely as “cozy," or honestly as “tiny, hot, and stuffy." They sat down in overstuffed armchairs, opposite their contact, a small man- sized for the room, really- with thick glasses and maybe a few dozen strands of hair, flanked on both sides by standing scouts, in full battle regalia sans weaponry.

“I understand you are here because you feel your home is threatened, is that right, mister….?"

His guide pushed him back into the seat and spoke over him. “Now Jason here is the Thalu rep, but I've been telling him-“

“He can speak for himself. “

Jason cleared his throat and tried to recall his prepared introduction, but all his psyche faded away in the face of the actual recitation.

“W, Well, we're looking to get something that can keep us safe, since everyone feels like the world is getting more dangerous these days, and we've heard that you're in the business of helping people like us."

The old man smiled, “Yes, we are in that business." He retrieved a scroll case from under the table, unraveled it, weighed the corners down with various baubles and desk clutter. “So you are here, correct?" he pointed to a spot on the map with the dry end of his inkpen.

“Yes, between the bend of the river here, and we used to have a little annex in the woods here, but abandoned it when, you know-"

“Right. It looks like there's no locus nearby. That makes it trickier. Why was it even settled?"

“No, no, there's no locus," Damn, was that important? “But it is good farmland, good spot on the river, close enough to the resonant tower to make it there and back in half a day."

“So you're canaries." He laughed. “I bet Nethua just wanted an early warning sign for when cipher comes down, hah. Nah, I kid. That is important to know, yes. “ He made a few shorthand marks on the map, a couple of triangles and circles that must have meant something in his line of work. “So other than that, what's your main concerns?"

Marc spoke up, unable to resist remaining silent for so long. “Well, mostly just fog dragons, maybe a few raiders but not that many, most people there only have their lives to steal. “

Jason shot him a deadly glare, why reveal their financial status before they could scam some advice and knowledge?

The contact leaned back, tented his fingers. “So you're really looking more about, ah, consultation, rather than contracting. Well, that's alright. I understand not everyone can afford to hire a deterrent force. “

Jason sighed in relief. He had been worried they would just get thrown out once their budget became known.

“Now, since there's no locus nearby, you shouldn't have to worry about the 'Rana, unless you're secretly harboring any archmages."

“We have a few star watchers, studying the resonance."

“Relocate them, get them out of there. She'll leave you alone, for the most part, if you don't have anything she wants. Might send her, uh, 'ambassador,' but he won't kill anyone if you pander to his ego. Now, the fog dragons don't have such a hierarchy and mostly act on hunger, for them, there is a different strategy. “ He made a few more marks on the paper. “Nitom was in a similar situation. What they did was shore up just the walls that face the forest, and present the illusion of force. You'll still need to buy some weaponry, to provide a warning shot, so to speak, but if you can present the idea that you have overwhelming force, they should keep off. You'll want to get enough weaponry to equip any patrols you send to the tower, the first time send them all out with it, then after the first encounter keep half back home. Do you understand?"

He nodded slowly, “Yeah, yeah, I think I get it. Would that really work though?"

“They're intelligent, yes, but they won't risk their lives for a meal as long as there's somewhere easier to find one. Now, knowledge is free, anyone can have a thought, save your money for downstairs. And have an excellent remainder of your stay here." He made a few more marks on his map as the two scouts shooed them out of the office and back into the hallway.

“I think that went pretty well, wouldn't you say? Now I'm gonna go look at some weapons, you head over to the museum, I'll catch up."

---

The museum was not quite what he expected it would be. Three rooms, not counting the foyer, one with paintings, one with an empty stage and seating, and one with some collected artifacts that he was told would cycle in and out of storage. It was still more impressive than anything back home, there wasn't even a school there, but he'd sort of worked up in his mind the idea of some grand facility, with marble pillars, and glass ceilings, and all that sort of thing. Still, though, it was worthwhile to take a look around. The artifact room housed a collection of ancient Ilvos objects, helmets, swords, some tattered papers, preserved in some thick fluid the archivists concocted. The centerpiece, of course, was the skeleton.

It stood around twice his height, in the center of the room, one claw perched atop a helmeted human skull, iron bolts and hinges posing the joints as if it were staring at him like lunch, as he stood in front of it, reading quietly aloud the inscribed plaque.

“…Believed to have been killed by Rakor the Mad during the battle of lunar city- haven't heard of either of those- the mad king realized that all living things suffer, and must therefore have a weakness. He formed a pact with the cipher, and learned that the dragon could be pacified with a song, and then he crushed its skull. Huh.“ He looked up at it, bringing his face close to the teeth, each one larger than his fist. Indeed, it seemed to have been carefully reconstructed from fragments, like broken pottery. He became aware of someone else in the room. He turned, stepped aside to let the stranger see the plaque. “I'm not sure I believe those story, what do you think?"

She turned her head slightly, pulled her hood down, to look at him. She wasn't particularly notable in her appearance, but there was something off about her. In the brief moment, he felt a boiling hatred, venting through her intense, purple tinged eyes, and a half second later, it was stifled by a forced smile and laugh.

“Well," she started, her voice having a certain resonance to it, “I think we can never be too sure, after all, nobody who was there is still alive today, we just have what whoever first found the bodies wanted to say happened. “ There was something ominous in her tone. It didn't fit her body.

“You mean, you think they lied? “

She reached up, placed her hand on the top of the jaw, where the bridge of the nose would be if there was still flesh on it, “I think he could have died from anything, maybe another dragon did it, and they just took credit to give the people hope. Or maybe it really did happen that way, I'm not a historian, but I don't think he'd have such a, uh, pathetic weakness."

“Yeah, I guess so." He shuffled uncomfortably in silence for a moment as she examined the damage to the skeleton. “I think it's pretty neat how they pose the wing bones with straps from the ceiling." No response. “Well whatever it was, must have been pretty tough to shatter it like that."

“Hm, yes." She turned to face him, catching him in that freezing gaze just as he had wanted to leave, “Tell me, what do you know about this 'cipher' they mention on a lot of these plaques here? I'm a visitor from the other continent, we don't have it there."

He gulped. “Well, it's, uhm, they live really far underground, or up in the sky, or in the ocean, or that sort of thing, uh" he strained his memory to really remember what they even were, usually they just come up in phrases and idioms, or as parts of a folk tale that nobody ever felt the need to explain. He'd never really wondered what the ciphers were, he just accepted that they were. “We call them the ciphers because they are, 'the means by which understanding is achieved,' those were the words the starwatcher used, and they climb up or down the resonance towers to get to this world, and, well, it hasn't happened in a few generations, but the last one was Ilvos, and, you know... Do you really not have them over there?"

She scoffed derisively. It was probably just some human mythos that got confused with history, as they liked to do, but then, by discounting them, she lacked an explanation for Ilvos, unless that was the natural state of the woods, but then how could there have been a civilization there, as evidenced by these other artifacts? She supposed the archivists could simply be making it up again. “No, we don't have that sort of thing. What does it mean here, by 'a pact'?"

“Well, the starwatcher told me that they can't breathe normal air, so they can't exist in this world for very long, so when they want to do something, they just teach a human how to do it. They sound really helpful, I don't know why people are afraid of the idea they might come back. I wanted to try to summon one, called Corvus, because I'd read that it hated dragons, but I guess nobody knows how to actually do that, or at least nobody who would deign to speak to me."

“Good, good, well, thank you. I suppose I have a lot to learn." She sat down on the floor, staring into the empty eyes of the skull. He left the room as soon as he felt able to, and went to go look at painting to calm his nerves, staying until the museum closed, then went to go find Marc and get some dinner.

---

Back in their sleeping quarters, a nice way to say a pair of cots set up behind shipping crates in the ascension unit on the boat, the two of them discussed what they'd found, after parting ways.

“The museum was neat. The skeleton was huge, you should have seen it-“

“Oh, I went back after dinner, took a quick look."

“Oh… well did you read the inscription?"

“Nah, just in and out and 'oh how nice, very impressive.'"

“Well it said that a cipher taught someone a song that let them kill it."

“That is incredibly vague."

“Yeah. I guess it is. I also met someone there."

“Oh really?" He put on his best sarcastic face, leaned in, “So what was her name?"

“I didn't ask. She was scary. So obsessed with the skull, asking me all kinds of questions, things I thought everyone knew."

Marc was silent for a minute. “Oh, uh, check this out." He turned, behind his bed, brought up one of a set of identical cases, marked with the Koto insignia. “Brand new prototype, made by the master smith himself." He popped open the hinges on the case, opened it so Jason could see. “He called it a 'harmonic firearm,' a more advanced version of the weapon the elite scouts carry. The koto I spoke with told me that they fire at the rate that matches the beat of the master's favorite song, and he says that that makes them more powerful, or something. I don't know about that, but look at this." He hefted the machine up, posed with it in the dim light of the compartment. “Punches right through a hand-width of steel. It's incredible. I mean, it should be, for the price."

“How did you afford those, actually? We brought enough money with us for maybe one of those, without any ammunition included. I see six of them, plus this," he knocked on the side of the crate that blocked in their area, “Wasn't here when we got here, and the shipping manifesto doesn't have any mention of it."

He put away the weapons, laid down on his cot, sat in silence for a bit. “Remember how I used to be a bandit, before I got into the mercenary business?"

“No, we didn't grow up together, you were already a merc when we met."

He scrunched his face “Really? I thought we knew eachother longer than that. Enn-nee-waays, I, uh, wound up in contact with someone, I think it might have been the same' scary woman' you met, who just really, really wanted to own a dragon skull, and also had enough money to temporarily redact my atonement. Understand?"

“That's, uh, I'm not sure if I should thank you or berate you."

“You'll figure it out by the time we get home."

---

In her own room of the boat, Tura squirmed in her seat. This body was just so uncomfortable. So small, fragile, ugly, didn't have the right number of limbs, she constantly felt nauseous and wanted, more than anything, just return to her real self. She couldn't trust anyone else to do this correctly, though, and had to take control of a pawn in order to make sure it went off right. An attendant knocked on the door of her private cabin.

“Miss, are you alright? It sounds like-“

“I'm fine." She barked through a crack in the door, “Just seasick. Leave."

She needed to find someone who actually knew what they were talking about, not some barely literate commoner. He mentioned 'starwatcher', perhaps this was some expert on these mysterious beings. They sounded like they would complicate her plans a significant degree, since there was no such thing in her original timeline. Despite them, she was confident this would be her successful attempt, everything was going perfect so far. She hadn't even needed to draw on any magic to control that scout she'd met. Just flash him a smile, toss a bag of gold, and he'd do anything she said. It was actually significantly easier than she'd expected it to be.

---

They didn't all take the same route back. The boat docked at a waystation to resupply, where Jason and Marc departed on a smaller ship to Flovyl, while Turana remained as a passenger to the main port, set the cargo on a standard trade caravan, tore the heart from the chest of her possessed pawn, woke up in her palace, flew down to the wagon's route, and took her prize. Efficiency and execution were the keys to the successful implementation of a plan.

She delivered the stolen skull to her collected assembly of mages she'd gathered from across the lands, dropping it into the center of the spell circle, commanding them to find some way to raise the dead. There were other dragons still alive, yes, but it was rare to find one she felt it was even possible to compare herself to, even Zulban, her new pet, felt an order of magnitude her lesser, even if he believed himself an equal partner in their venture. She retired to her sleeping chamber, the old throne room, human furnishings discarded into a heap in the corner, replaced with proper bedding for the soon to be ruler. It was good to just be herself again, having spent two weeks as a human. On some level it gave her a tiny shred of empathy for them, the poor things. Licking her claws, she bade her favorite attendant to enter the room, from the side door.

“Have you completed the list?"

“Yes, “ she bowed, then began to unravel the scroll of names.

“The first option is Zulban, of course, since he is already here, and of sufficiently pure blood, and he would require no further coercion."

The dragon sighed.

“No, I've said before, no, I don't think so. Perhaps as a backup, if no better options can be found. As intelligent as he is, I want my offspring to be physically powerful more-so than mentally, because I must still have full control over them."

“Very well," she marked a dot next to his name, rolled the paper to see the next, “Vikarax?"

“Fog dragon. If I must interact with him, it will be as a predator."

“Farath?"

“A mutt that only cares about stuffing his face. I told you, pure bloods only."

“Nimhais?"

“I delivered his skull to my necromancers this evening. If he can be resurrected, yes. Continue, though, in case he can not."

“The last who meets your purity criteria is, uh, well, as we said before, living as a hermit. We've looked into it farther; he exiled himself to Moldath after accidentally killing his loved one."

Turana laughed. “Ah, good, good, I like the sounds of that. Find out what you can. I need to cleanse myself. If the mages are successful, you may wake me; I must sleep now, and adapt my plan. Compile for me all the information there is about 'the ciphers,' too, wouldn't you?"

“It's just 'the cipher,' it's already plural." The attendant's bad habit crept up on her before she could stop herself, only able to lower her volume and hope the correction went un-noticed. The dragon looked up from her bed, lazily brought her tail blade over to the quivering girl, and carefully, carefully, cut a tiny slice on her cheek.

“I've decided to give some thought to a different ruling strategy. Leave now."