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It’s generally unwise (suicidally so) to be rude to dragons.

Dragons of any variety, chromatic or metallic or the rarer lung dragon tiers on the infrequent occasions they reveal themselves. This is common enough knowledge. You needn’t grow up with druids to know this. Nevertheless, Caduceus Clay’s mother told him very specifically what sorts of things to do when confronted with dragons. Drilled it into her children with (in retrospect) suspicious fervor. So, when he takes his morning tea to the garden and finds a large copper-colored dragon laying curled like a cat among the gravestones, his response isn’t to scream and immediately slam the door shut. (In and of itself and admirable restraint.)

Instead, he ignores the burn of hot tea spilled down his knuckles and wrist to say, “Heeey. Uh, welcome to the Blooming Grave.” He glances down. The shorn haunch of a sizable deer buck lies at the foot of the temple steps. Caduceus ignores that to focus on the dragon sunning itself with a lazy contentment on the lawn. “I’d offer you tea,” he says, “but I haven’t any sort fit for dragons. What other hospitality can I offer?”

The dragon, already lifting its head to consider Caduceus, says in a deep, sonorous, but ultimately genderless voice, “What other hospitality indeed?”

Caduceus maintains his calm, “If you’ve woken from a long rest, I have magic to help tidy up a little. If you’re hungry I can direct you to the better wildlife groves in this forest. If you want for conversation, I can listen.”

The dragon tilts its head. “Are you guarding this place, beautiful one?”

Oh no, Caduceus thinks, but aloud answers. “I suppose. My family has tended the Blooming Grove for generations. This is a temple of the Wild Mother.” A pause. “But all may find comfort here.”

“So there are other caretakers that may take your place?”

It’s fishing. The dragon cocks its head, leaning a little toward the firbolg groundskeeper – massive, vertically slitted predator’s eyes catch the morning sun in the serrated imperfections of each iris. Like rough copper. The ground strains a little when the beast lurches unhurriedly to its feet, stretching out its wings as a massive canopy overhead, buffeting air around Caduceus before folding up against its back. It half-circles to face Caduceus properly and takes a seat in front of the temple doors, tail looped around its feet, the tip flipping idly back and forth.

Caduceus answers slowly, “Wellll… it’s just siblings and myself here these days. They are out in town this week—”

“Then you have replacements,” declares the dragon.

Caduceus, a little worried about correcting a dragon, doesn’t say anything.

The dragon looks around the graveyard, appraising. “This doesn’t seem a suitable property for your attention.”

Caduceus sets his tea up aside on the low wall nearby. “Oh?”

The dragon snorts tossing its head, lips curling back from massive, interlocking white fangs. “Of course not. It’s a patch of weeds and bramble choked by corrupting forest.” Keen metallic eyes fix on Caduceus. “The creeping curse leans in all around. Did you know it to be so? It dies as you guard it.”

Caduceus says nothing for a moment, then, “Yes, I know.”

The dragon, sensing a shift in tone, tilts its head. “Oh? This makes you sad?”

“This is my home. Knowing that it’s dying… yes, it makes me sad.”

“Then leave it,” enthuses the dragon, standing up to all fours, tail lashing excitedly. “There are better homes and better estates to dedicate to. Undying kingdoms. Would you like me to give one to you?” The dragon grins at him, a horrifying expression that an older dragon might know better than to mimic while in true terrifying draconic form. “I can replace this grove for you. Easily.”

Oh noooo, Caduceus thinks more urgently, his racing heart tightening in his chest.

“I have no doubt,” Caduceus says carefully, forcing himself to move a little farther into the garden, nearer to the dragon. As though he is intrigued and not heart-stoppingly afraid. “Your domain no doubt dwarfs the boundaries of my small garden. But I am dedicated to the goddess of this grove. To leave her service would anger her, I think, and I cannot possibly break an oath to my patron, as honored as I might be to take on such a responsibility.”

The dragon is visibly disappointed to hear this, its brow ridge pulling together, scales bristling then settling back down.

Caduceus is not familiar enough with the physiology of all dragon sub-types (particularly in their younger transitional phases) to be certain… but Caduceus is willing to bet he’s dealing with a rather young brass dragon as opposed to a copper dragon. That is only somewhat better as a brass dragon is more likely to trap him for days in a philosophical conversation. Whereas a copper dragon might feel irresistibly compelled to curse all of Caduceus’ tomato plants so they come to life and yell at him. Or turn his fur bright orange. Copper dragons, much like his eldest sister, delight in frustrating the target of their affections into paying them mind.

This dragon is… not doing that.

“What can I give you, faithful one, to change your mind?” The dragon is moving closer. There is enough space now that it can circle around Caduceus, moving to his back and coming around on his opposite side. “This place will die. To spend decades of life in its stewardship seems such a waste. Your goddess would understand.” The giant, brassy skull of the dragon curls up and over Caduceus’ right shoulder, curving around to look at him. The heat off its body feels like standing near a hearth, heat breathing against his back. “You would rather waste your years here than come with me?”

Oh no, oh no, Caduceus thinks rapidly, the creeping vine of panic twining around the trellis of his ribcage.

Refusing now will sound like an insult, like he’d rather sit in a moldy garden than take up a fabulous job opportunity generously being offered by, why of course, an amazing creature far superior to himself. The details of pantheons might be unclear to this dragon and the relationship between a cleric and their god likewise murky enough to ignore as, surely, not as interesting or important as coming to serve a dragon.

Caduceus racks his memory frantically. For his mother’s voice through the bumblebee buzz of a summer day telling him about dragons. How to deal with dragons. She had to rap his knuckles a few times because he kept getting distracted by things… oh. Why wasn’t he better at remembering things like that? Dragons. What about dragons?

They sleep a lot. They’re massively intelligent if somewhat compelled by notions adjacent to normal by the standards of other species. Like the fact they are big, massive, grumpy carnivores when they wake up hungry every few hundred years. The younger ones have legitimate logistical concerns about amassing security for their potential estates while they hibernate. Older, smarter dragons dedicate incredible efforts attracting Archfey to such a task – immortality making them the ideal candidate for monitoring draconic kingdoms for the better part of 1000 years if necessary. But, barring the availability or interest of literal fairy royalty or the ability to amass kobald kingdoms, a young dragon might bother the hell out of elves and other long-lived creatures to this end.

That’s likely what’s going on here and why his mother warned him about strange dragons in the woods.

It’s a little flattering, honestly, since dragons are notoriously picky about consorting with anything that’s not a dragon. But either way, Caduceus knows this: Being bound to a dragon in service is, generally, not a decision you want to be peer pressured into while you have bedhead and tea burns on your knuckles.

“It’s… difficult to say,” Caduceus replies very eventually, hooking his hands behind his back and considering the dragon in front of him. “Are you not far from your home? I don’t imagine these wood suit you at all – the sun can barely penetrate these trees much less warm the earth properly. Difficult to have a real chat with someone without the sun warming your back.”

“Oh agreed!” enthuses the dragon, immediately taking the conversational bait. “This forest is entirely too dark and damp for me. I dislike it entirely – full of witch wood magicks. And the rot in the earth feels putrid, like dissolving flesh under my feet. I know you cannot detect it yourself, but to my senses it’s very overwhelming. The worst forest I’ve attended by far and I’ve, of course, been to many on the course of my personal inquiries.” The dragon tilts a head at him, a low purring trill resonating in its throat. “You can imagine now why I have such concerns for your being here. It must be maddening. Particularly the long stretches of time alone.”

Caduceus has only been alone here for three days and hasn’t felt a pang of loneliness quite yet, but that must feel an eternity to a brass dragon.

“I can speak with the plants,” he says.

“Ha! Poor conversationalists, plants. I bore of what they have to say very quickly. They do not hold many opinions of things.”

“Yes well…” Caduceus is bit flummoxed. “They are plants.”

“You have an interest in plant life?” asks the dragon.

“I do.”

“My homelands is vast and warm and far to the east. But there is much plant life there. Superior to this. Much tougher and stranger species, but much can be adapted to the desert. The oasis groves in the heart of the Raked Valley for example. I’ve thought of replicating it as I have notions of a floating garden in my entry hall.” The dragon’s tail lashes about happily. “Do you have any experience with such?”

“No, but I’ve heard about them. My mother lived among druids for a time who specialized in them.”

The dragon tilts its great head, the dappled sun glittering and sparking gold across layers of scales. “I could certainly find the means to create a garden for you in the desert, if that is your hesitation in leaving. Your Malora loves the proliferation of green things in the world. I could make such a place for you if you would attend me.”

“It’s a difficult thing,” Caduceus says, “my kind struggle to break current contracts…”

“Yes, yes. I know fey-blood well. I respect these boundaries, but surely there are… workarounds. Remain in the employ of your goddess while also serving another. What gods require of mortals is often so little a thing.”

Caduceus ignores the bit about what his deity may or may not want from him and looks at the dragon. “What do I call you? Do you have a title?”

The dragon blinks. “I don’t know. No one’s tried to call me anything yet.”

“Well, it would be very difficult to explain to my goddess to serve a master who cannot give me a name and title.” Caduceus frowns. “We haven’t been introduced properly. You can’t forge a contract that way.”

The dragon considers this. “What is your name then, fey-eyed groundskeeper?”

“Caduceus Clay,” he says.

“Very well, when I have a name for myself, I will return.” The dragon studies Caduceus closely. “Will you come with me then?”

“I cannot negotiate terms now,” Caduceus says, very matter of factly. “I will have a better understanding of your needs at the time of your return. Speak with me then, and I can relay terms to my patron. At that time, I may be able to negotiate, but only then.”

The dragon narrows its eyes a moment… then chuckles. “Very well, Caduceus Clay. I will find you again.”

And then the dragon turns and makes its way toward the edge of the grove before leaping up like a cat, clearing the guard rail wall, and vanishing into the Savalier Wood. Then and only then does Caduceus release the breath he’s been holding and kind of double over, pressing one hand over his heart which feels very much like it’s going to bust through his sternum.

“Ooooh,” he rumbles. “No one is going to believe me. Wow. Oh boy.”

Many years later…

“Cad. Hey, Cad. Caduceus.”

“Hmm?”

Beauregard jogs a little to catch up with him. “God. You’re like a mile tall. How do I keep losing you in this fuckin’ crowd?”

Beau one of the shortest members of the Mighty Nein and he must be mindful not to lengthen his stride too much and force her to power walk to keep up with him. Not that he’s moving too fast through the streets of Zedash. The crush of crowds and activity is a little overwhelming to be honest – the noise of shop barkers calling out their wares, the bustle of commerce and conversation, so many mingling scents and sounds as to drive him occasionally into a stupor of indecision as to what he might like to inspect next.

Jester has been extremely accommodating to his boundless curiosity up until this point, but today she had other errands to run in the temple district, leaving the newest member of their party to fend mostly for himself. This, apparently, had put Beauregard on edge and she volunteered to tag along. She shadows him like a small, brown, orbiting body. Lurking at his elbow while he chats with merchants in the central market and occasionally submitting her opinion on the ‘assholery’ of this person or another.

Caduceus does not closely examine his suspicion that this hypervigilance is a trauma-response to watching her Mollymauk friend die in combat. He does appreciate the feeling of protection, however adjacent to sorrow it might be.

“If you’d like,” says the woman he’s speaking with, “I could… I could knock off a few silver from the price?”

Caduceus smiles up from the small pile of apples he’s gathered into a small sack.

“That’s very kind of you. But I don’t mind,” he says, laying down the full price for the purchase.

Beau makes a tinny noise of protest from behind him, but he ignores it.

“Heeey,” Beau says once they’ve walked away and got some distance between themselves and the cart. “Not one to judge or anything but like… that’s the fourth person who tried to give you a discount today. Why don’t you ever take them up on that shit?”

“Oh.” Caduceus considers it. “I don’t know. It seems a little rude?”

“Why? It’s not your fault they got the hots for you.”

“What?” Caduceus blinks.

“The hot… Cad. All those people were like… into you.” Then when Caduceus pauses to process that she goes somewhat gleefully on, “Like they wanted to climb you like a really tall tree, man. Congrats. People love pink, if you get me.”

“From context clues I am understanding you mean they were physically attracted to me?” says Caduceus, bemused.

“Deuce, please tell me you noticed.” Beau becomes visibly concerned. “I cannot leave you alone on the streets if you didn’t notice people giving you googly eyes. You, like, don’t pay attention to shit sometimes.”

“I did notice, Beau. That’s why it seemed rude to take advantage.” Caduceus pauses. “You don’t think I pay attention?”

“You got distracted by wall moss during a fight.”

“Oh… well…” A pause. “I’m still not accepting discounts.”

Beau gives his arm a companionable tap with her knuckles. “Awww, you’re being too nice. It’s probably because you’re tall, you know. People lose their shit over tall dudes. I get it. The tall part I mean. There’s something about looking up at person, you know?” Caduceus does not know, but Beau doesn’t seem to notice. “You should be less nice and save some money.”

“I don’t want to encourage anyone.” He hands Beau one of the apples and she, momentarily surprised, takes it from him. “And it’s not as though I am being propositioned any more frequently than you are, Beauregard.”

“Right.” She takes a bite of apple and speaks around the chunk tucked in her cheek. “But I’m a hot girl walking around in a crop top.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Wow, you really did live out in that forest your whole life.” She chews and swallows. “Did you notice the ratio of dudes versus women that were saying shit to me?”

“It was primarily men— oh. I see.”

“Right. You’re getting like… smitten wooing. I’m getting horny dudes playing the law of averages.”

“What?”

“Never mind. Guys sucks. That’s what I’m saying.”

“Is that why you prefer women?”

“I prefer women for a lot of reasons, Deuce.” Her eyes go a little unfocused and she gets a goofy little smile, looking off into a middle distance. “So many reasons…”

“That’s cool.”

“Women are so cool, Caduceus.”

Caduceus pauses, then, “Well, it’s not the men aren’t saying things about me, they just aren’t saying them loudly enough that I they think I can hear them. Or loudly enough that you can hear them when they notice you’re with me.” He selects an apple from the bag, briefly rifling around. “I have to assume it’s because I’m, like you said, tall and they worry about possible repercussions.”

Beau appears to still be mostly lost in her day dream of women.

“You do look like you could pick a man up and throw them if you really wanted – wait a minute what kind of things?” Her head snaps around to look up at him. Her bright blue eyes dart suspiciously around the crowd as she pivots on her heel to look behind them, her small body suddenly keyed for a fight. “Did someone say something shitty to you while I was standing back? Which one?”

Caduceus, mildly alarmed by this, puts a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, don’t worry about it.”

“No! Who did it?”

“It was no worse than what’s been said to you I’m sure.”

“Yeah, but some asshole catcalling me is a little more normal than some skeeze-ball saying creepy shit to you on the downlow while I’m standing right there.” She’s scanning the crowd for possible targets now. “Was it that fat fucker at the charm stand? I got a vibe off that guy. Do you want me to—?”

“Beau.” Caduceus puts emphasis on it until she looks at him. “I appreciate the thought, but I’ve had slavers literally on my doorstep before and they didn’t get to give me trouble again.” He gives her a meaningful eyebrow arch until she calms down a little. “Zedash is not worrying me. It’s the biggest city I’ve been to, certainly, but if someone intended something beyond idle disrespect, I would let you know. Don’t worry.”

Beau gives him a look. “Shit,” she says after a moment’s consideration. “Slavers?”

“Shady Creek is full of people who do bad things.”

“Assholes.”

“People who do bad things.”

“Fuckers.”

“Okay.”

There’s a pause as the walk again before Beau breaks the silence.

“So, like, back where you come from… you did or didn’t get hit on by people?” She squints at him. “I’m trying to imagine you in that hell hole and having trouble… picturing you… there at all honestly.”

Caduceus chuckles a little. “Oh no. I wasn’t allow to go into town. Or if I did, I was disguised. That place was dangerous.”

“Then how…?”

“People in mourning look for comfort all kinds of ways and I happened to be around is all.” He scratches his cheek a little, embarrassed. “This is the first time it’s happened outside of a clear grieving process, so it’s nice I suppose. A little confusing. Makes me wonder if they’re sad which, you know, probably isn’t the case.”

Beau snorts. “So sad people are horny, huh?”

“You don’t think that’s true?”

A sudden shadow passes over her face. “No. That’s fuckin’ true for sure.” She looks away then. “That’s definitely true.”

Beauregard is notably tenser for the remainder of their outing and lurks much more closely during all conversations, interjecting with hostile little quips and glaring whenever anyone gets too friendly for her liking. It was, perhaps, a mistake trying to relate to Beau’s catcalling plight because now she’s actively looking for a fight on a shopping trip. Caduceus purchases a small bag of candied fruit slices and gives half to Beau to distract her. She is not distracted. She eats the candied fruit with a scowl on her face, scanning the crowd suspiciously.

They make their way out of the market eventually, taking a scenic route through the city.

They get back to the inn and split up to take things up to their rooms. Caduceus again finds his room empty. Fjord, despite paying for a shared room, disappeared early in the week with very little explanation as to what he was doing and while the rest of the team has been quick to assure Caduceus all is well, he’s not so certain. There was a haunted shadow in the man’s eyes. The torture Jester seems intent to dance away may have taken root in their half-orc companion. Maybe irrevocably so.

Caduceus lays his wares on his bed and takes some time organizing things, tucking some purchases away, leaving some on the comforter. He selects the last of the candied fruit with the intent of finishing off the rest with Nott and Jester when they return. He hums a little to himself as he tucks it away in his pocket and as he reaches for his hat on the bed, he hears an inordinately loud knock at the door… followed by the sound of the mechanism unlocking.

He turns. “Fjord? Where have you—?”

The door opens and an elf woman and a large human man enter the room and immediately shut the door behind them. The man is a little too large for the room. Slightly taller than Caduceus himself and much broader. Maybe a part Goliath now that he’s paying attention. They’re blocking the door and the large man has a dagger in hand while the elf woman has one hand raised in the somatic component of a spell held fast.

“Don’t yell,” says the woman calmly, “if you do, I might have to hurt you to keep you quiet.”

Cad tilts his head. “My teammates are next door.”

“Your one companion is downstairs for a drink and my other teammate is keeping her occupied. The others are all gone.”

“Ah. You’ve been following me then. Alright. What is it you want?”

The elf woman smiles. “You’re the one drawing eyes. What do you think we want?”

“Nothing I want to give you obviously. Or you would have just asked.” He looks meaningfully at the door behind them. “It will be difficult to kidnap me from my own room, so I have to suppose you’re here for something less permanent than that.”

“Exactly. No need to worry for your life, hon. No reason we can’t all walk away having had some fun.”

Caduceus smiles.

“I need to give you fair warning. The people I travel with are hurting right now. They’re nice kids, but the last time a man hurt their people – note: a very, very dangerous man and his entire team of dangerous criminals – they hunted those people down and killed them all. So…” Caduceus tilts his head, maintaining the smile but putting a low emphasis on his words. “Is what you want to do to me, worth the very certain possibility that if they catch you… they will kill you in spell fire?”

The large man looks immediately cowed by this possibility.

He glances at the woman for reassurance. She hesitates, a visible mathematical calculation going through her head as she looks at the firbolg standing in front of her… then she hisses a word and Caduceus feels a clutch of vicious sorcery close around his body. It’s like a hand over his face and a cruel stitching of his lips. It cleaves his tongue to the roof of his mouth and the magic makes his muscles go rigid… and he shakes it off like a bully’s fist on his shoulder. He bares his teeth at them, hackles coming up as he yells at the human, “Release!”

And the man, seized by the arcane command, drops the dagger in his hand even as he lunges at Caduceus to use it.

Disarmed, the man tackles Caduceus against the far wall and tries to grapple him.

Caduceus is stronger than he looks… but the residue of the spell has him sluggish and in one move, the other man has an arm around his throat and another looped through the crook of Cad’s right elbow, yanking his arm behind his back. But still, Caduceus is stronger than he looks. With a bear-deep snarl, he drives his whole body backwards into his assailant and slams him into the wall so hard it craters the stucco covering the stone and cracked it off the brick.

“Fuckin’ hell!” wheezes the man.

But before Caduceus can shout, the elf woman lunges forward and gut-punches him.

She’s not terribly strong, but it drives the breath out of him and her companion yanks him around and slams him face down on his bed. The apples he bought at the market fall with soft thumps from the mattress and roll away on the floor. They bump the elf woman’s boot as she also moves to the bed. Her hand closes in his hair and Caduceus struggles to get his legs under his body, to get leverage to literally shove himself up from the bed, but the man on top of him kicks out the back of his knee, pinning his leg with his own.

“Hold still!” the woman hisses.

She again casts the hold person spell and this time, pinned and panicking, the enchantment takes full hold of him.

The woman has her fingers knotted in his hair, her nails digging into the back of his skull. Caduceus immediately turns his attention to breaking the spell. Breaking her spell. They’re busy. He ignores her whispering things in his ear— “Lay still and let it happen.” – and he focuses… and breaks the spell again.

“Dammit!” She shoves her palm against his skull, pressing his head into the mattress. “Ulrik, he’s shaking it off!”

“How’s he breaking it?”

“I don’t know! He’s stubborn.”

Caduceus thrashes in their grip, but their combined weight holds him pinned and stops the somatic component of most spells. He tries to yell but it’s muffled mostly by the blankets. He can’t get them off, but he can tell by their panting that holding him down is taking all their conjoined efforts. They don’t dare try anything worse lest he get up. He can smell sweat and adrenaline. They’re getting scared. Worried they’ve miscalculated. Caduceus gambles on their fear response. He opens his throat a little and loose a snarl from deep in his chest. So bestial it travels through his body like bell tolling and, because Ulrik is leaning against his back, Caduceus easily lays hands on him.

Which is the only somatic component to the horrific infliction of wounds that he unleashes into his belly.

The man screams and lunges backward clutching the gaping sores suddenly bleeding through shirt. This leaves just the elf woman with her hand knotted in his hair. Caduceus immediately snaps his head around and in the split second before he throws her across the room, he gets to see the face of a woman who – essentially – is tail-pulling a lion and just now realized it.

Then she gets thrown across the room.

“GET OUT!”

Caduceus lets the words thunder out of him and both of his assailants immediately break for the door. They get as far as opening the door… and one of his assailants disappears. Or rather, the giant man turns into a mouse and falls with a startled little thwap to floor. It squeaks frantically, then darts into the hallway out of sight The elf woman does not fair much better. She sputters, staggering back. She tries a spell, but the person in to door way seems unbothered, waves their hand, and there’s a pop of magic as some quantum twist happens in her vicinity… and she disappears completely.

“What?” Caduceus says.

A figure steps into the door way, blinking.

The figure is a tall, very tall, well-dressed dragonborn in very expensive looking robes. Like those a merchant lord might wear. Their scales are a bright, brassy color so brilliant it looks… unnatural on a dragonborn honestly. A pair of bright bronze eyes gleam, peering intently as they enter the room and approach. In their fist is a small gray mouse, which they put in a pocket and idly button that pocket shut. They have a mouse-shaped person in their pocket now. From outside, there’s a sound, like a few other patrons in the surrounding rooms peeking into the hall to see what happened.

“Ah, it’s alright,” says the dragonborn when a suspicious dwarf half-dressed and wielding a hammer pokes their head in the room. “We’ve sorted it out nicely. No trouble.”

“You sure? I heard some yellin’.” The dwarf squints at Caduceus. “Aye. You. Pink feller. You alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay,” Caduceus manages, side-eyeing the apparent wizard in his room. “Hey, uh, thanks for checking.”

The dwarf inspects the room a little. “Okay well… let me know…” He raises the hammer to indicate his willingness to use it.

“Aw. Much appreciated. Thank you.”

The dwarf disappears and a few other worried patrons in the hallway also withdraw, satisfied that murder is not being committed in the next room over. Then it’s just Caduceus standing in a room with the giant dragonborn who just, with very little effort, made two other people vanish. The stranger is just looking at him, expectantly somehow, which just makes him nervous all over again.

“Is that woman ever coming back?”

“Eventually,” says the dragonborn. Then, curiously, “Would you like her not to?”

“Well… I’d hate to see them trying that with someone else capable. I don’t think killing her or that other fellow is necessary but turning them into the authorities might be good.”

“I might do that,” says the dragonborn in a tone and suggests they’re not going it.

Caduceus can’t be sure why they sound so familiar.

“Thank you for your help. I don’t think I could have apprehended them.” He eyes the pocket where the mouse vanished. “I’m Caduceus, by the way. Caduceus Clay.” He offers a hand to shake because that seems the thing to do. “Thank you for your help…?”

“Aklohren the Ironbound King,” he says, very congenially. The dragonborn takes Caduceus palm in between two massive, taloned hands but he doesn’t shake it. Just holds it gently. “We’ve already met, but we haven’t been properly introduced.” There’s a slow smile. “I didn’t have a title then, but nevertheless I hope your word is still good, faithful one.”

Oh no, Caduceus thinks, suddenly transported back some forty seasons to a sleepy morning in early fall and immediately he forgets literally everything he told himself he wouldn’t forget when this day came.

“Sure,” he says, like an imbecile.

The dragon who is pretending to be something else, brightens. “Then you didn’t forget?”

“How could I?” Caduceus says, amazed at himself because he did, in fact, forget this was a possible eventuality on the horizons of his life: an entire damn dragon. “You wanted someone to help with your estate. Sorry you… look really different.”

The fake dragonborn sighs a little, looking at the back of one scaly hand with displeasure. “Yes. Zedash isn’t a city that will take kindly to the visitation of a dragon, even one as magnanimous as myself. So I’ve had to make due. Nevertheless, I think this is best possible appearance given the constraints of the species.” They lift their gleaming head a little, angling it vainly in the light from the window. “Do you agree? I picked this form particularly hoping you might be impressed.”

“You look great,” says Caduceus, wondering if he’s going to be eaten for being a bad conversationalist. A slim but existing possibility with a brass dragon. “I’m so impressed. Uh… you have a title now?”

“Yes. I earned it by attending to some affairs of state between two warring city states in the north. Disagreements over mining rights. Very inconvenient for the region, destabilizing the whole area, cutting very deeply into the natural resources with no regard for that material impact that might have on me.” The dragon says this as though this is certainly the part for Caduceus to be amazed by – the inconvenience to him specifically. “I had to set them straight right away. They were stripping the agricultural populace of their resources. Do you know what that does to cattle production?”

“No idea,” says Caduceus because he really, really doesn’t.

“Well, Caduceus, it hurts it. A lot. My favorite varieties of cattle come from that region.”

“You wanted to eat the farmers’ cattle… so a war… made there be less cattle?”

“Yes, precisely so. I don’t expect you to understand the greater minutia of city-state animal husbandry, but my swift resolution of the situation led to all the cities in the region naming me regent supreme. It’s all documented. Does this suffice as proper title? I know there are rules to these things for you.” The dragon seems every eager. “I have paperwork if you require it.”

“Oh, yeah, uh, it’s a fine title,” Caduceus says, terrified by the notion of paperwork.

“Excellent!” says the dragon. “Then we should depart at once.”

“Uh, hold on,” Caduceus says, digging his heels in a little as the dragon literally starts pulling him toward the door. “I know I’m not in the Blooming Grove right now but… I’m still bound to it. The corruption is threatening the temple. I cannot leave my service to the grove until I am certain of its health and safety.”

The dragon literally groans in annoyance and turns back around. “Oh, I thought that place might have already rotted away by now. It hasn’t?”

“That’s not cool, man.” Caduceus is too appalled to stop himself. He pulls his hand from the dragon’s grip. “That’s my home. Imagine if I was that careless with your estate. What are you saying about me?”

The dragon looks shamed by this. “Oh dear, I didn’t intend offense. Of course, I did not mean to imply you would be careless in your duties.”

Caduceus crosses his arms and does his best to look offended. “I won’t have my reputation put in jeopardy because you won’t let me complete my current term of service properly.”

“I beg your pardon,” says the brass dragon, genuinely concerned by all appearances. “What can I say to convince you, lovely one? Is there some thing I can give you? Something you need for your journey? I have wealth of course to offer you. You need only say the—”

“THIS ISN’T A FUCKIN’ BROTHEL YOU FUCKER!”

And then Beauregard comes flying full speed from of the hallway, hurdling through the air like a furious tiny predator. She decks the dragon-not-dragon with a screaming fist. She nails him right in the back of the head, knocking the dragon staggering sideways, then lands, taking up an immediate, fists-up defense between Caduceus and the apparent stranger in his room.

“Go on! Try to offer him gold again, you fuckin’ creepy wackjob!

“BEAU!” Caduceus instinctively grabs the yelling monk woman around the waist, too panicked by the horrifying possible consequences to be polite about it. He scoops her from behind like you grab a furious cat and yanks her up into his arms. “NO!”

“You know this sleezy fucker!?” She thrashes in his arms, torqueing at the waist and kicking. “I heard yelling downstairs and I think some chick was trying to grift me. HEY YOU! Yeah, you!” She shakes her fist as the dragon is rubbing their jaw and looking perturbed. She jabs two fingers at her own eyes, then at them to indicate the closeness with which she is watching. “I see you! Don’t even look at him!”

The dragon turns slowly, eyeing Beau who Caduceus is now clutching like a favorite teddy bear. “Is the small one important to you?”

“Yes,” Caduceus says, bracing as Beau immediately pinwheels to escape and attack again. “Beauregard. It’s fine. Please stop kicking.”

She stops thrashing like a feral mongoose. She lowers her voice, hissing, “Who is this guy? Why’s he in your room tryna give you shit? That’s really fuckin’ weird. You know that’s fuckin’ weird right?”

“Yes. But it’s fine.

Caduceus warily sets her down but she makes no further move to attack… though he’s fairly certain the neutral stance she takes, hands slightly rigid, shoulders tense, is the precursor to the sort of patient defense she takes in combat against enemies. Once he’s fairly certain she’s going to restrain herself, Caduceus moves around her to face the dragon in disguise. He purposefully places himself between her and the dragon.

He pauses, then in Sylvan he says, “She protects me. She’s my friend and I like her a lot. Sorry she hit you.”

And the dragon, in easy and fluent Sylvan replies, “I will forgive the insult if she was acting in your defense of course.”

“Thank you, Ironbound King, Aklohren.”

The dragon seems heartened by his use of the title. “I have offended you. I apologize.”

“I’m not entirely offended. But I am dedicated to my duty. I have to save my temple before I can consider dividing my attentions.”

“Then allow me to do this for you,” says Aklohren. “I will seek out answers for you as to the ailment of your home garden. When I see you next, I will have answers for you or some treasure that will aid you in your quest to its healing.”

Caduceus blinks. “I… would appreciate that very much, actually. Thank you.”

The dragon perks up right away before inclining their head a little. “Very well. I will see you again Caduceus Clay.”

Caduceus likewise nods, a little lower than the dragon, and Aklohren takes their leave.

“Okay, seriously, Cad.” Beau comes around to block the door, facing him. She throws a thumb over her shoulder. “Who the fuck was that?”

“Aklohren,” says Caduceus. “They want to hire me to tend their hanging gardens but obviously I’m a little busy traveling with you kids. So, I turned them down for now, but I think they’re going to keep trying.”

“Cad, okay… that’s cool.” She pauses, searching visibly for a diplomatic way to say what she has to say. “Hear me out: maybe he is just a rich guy trying to hire you to water his flowers or whatever…” She puts a hand on his shoulder. “But like I got some real sketchy vibes off that guy. I think, like, he might not be totally what he says he is.”

“Well, I think you’re onto something there.”

“Maybe he’s really a business man, but could be he’s trying to hire you because, actually—” she lowers her voice— “he just wants to get into your pants.” She lets that sink in. “See, he can’t think of a way to flirt with you, so hiring you give him an excuse to talk to you. Trust me. I’ve seen that shit before. It’s more common than you think. These dudes don’t know how to be around people they wanna bang, so they get weird and do crazy shit.”

Caduceus stops nodding and really thinks about it. “Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.”

Beau taps a finger on her temple. “Gotta stay sharp, Deuce. These guys are insidious.”

“Thank you, Beau. I’m sure I’ll figure it out as I go.”

“Hey, just watching your back.” She hesitates before going on a little earnestly. “I know it’s really weird coming to the big city like this and, like, I really appreciate you doing it. Like… you didn’t have to come fight the Iron Shepherds with us, but you did and… I don’t know. Did I ever say ‘thanks’ for that?”

Caduceus smiles a little, gently. “You didn’t have to.”

“Oh. Well… yeah. Anyway. Wanna go get something to eat?”

“Lead the way.”

Later…

The Mighty Nein are taking their ease by the roadside. A fire is lit. The sun is beginning to set. There’s the faint sound of birdsong from the adjacent forest and everyone is laying companionably about the fire listening to Caleb explain something about the mechanics of a transmutation spell which Caduceus doesn’t follow at all. Yasha is dozing lightly beside Beauregard, leading back against a pile of equipment packs. Nott is enraptured by Caleb, sitting with her little legs crossed, beaming up at him. Jester is attempting to convince Fjord to hold still so she can stick flowers in his hair and he’s resisting but just barely.

So, you know, literally no one is expecting it when a giant brass dragon erupted from the cloud cover overhead and lands about 100 years off from their campsite. There’s a scream from the horses immediately and they take off at a gallop even as Caduceus shouts at them, “Wait! It’s okay!”

But by then the non-animal members of the party are screaming and also grabbing weapons as the young brass dragon comes trotting merrily up to the site, the ground thundering beneath its feet as it comes nearer. Caleb’s palms immediately ignite in arcane fire as Fjord’s falchion bursts into being, already spiraling with green energy as he frantically calls forth eldritch arcana and Caduceus needs to stop this right now.

He slams his staff on the ground and the whole area ignites in soft pink light as he casts the brightest possible light spell through the head of his staff and bellows, “STOP!”

And the dragon, his team, and everyone kind of skid to a halt.

“Do not attack!” Caduceus shouts, pointing at the Mighty Nein who are in various stages of winding up to unleash magical hellfire, lightning, and lollipops. “Please! This is Aklohren, the Ironbound King. I know him. It’s fine!”

“WHAT?” Beau screams.

“Caduceus Clay!” booms the dragon, totally ignoring the others. “I found you!”

“Heeey,” says Caduceus, turning to wave a little.

“WHAT?” Nott screeches.

“Deuce! Explain! Now!” Fjord has a ball of eldritch fire in his fist and looks panicked. There is a dragon the size of a small house beaming eagerly down at their cleric, tail lashing like an excited cat and upsetting the foliage in the general area. “I’m five seconds from losin’ my shit here!”

“Oh don’t bother,” chuckles the dragon, finally addressing the group. “You couldn’t hurt me if you wanted to. Please calm down. I don’t care about you anyway.”

“Oh… good?” squeaks Fjord, still with a ball of arcane fire in his hand. Caleb is like-wise literally holding size orbiting beads of magic that wants to be six missiles streaking at the dragon. “Uhhhhh, Caduceus?”

Caduceus moves so he’s between the group and the dragon.

“Aklohren and I have been acquainted for a few decades.”

“Four decades,” booms the dragon.

“Right. Sure. Four.”

“He’s very bad with time,” says the dragon. “That is understandable. Fey beings are terrible with time. That does not matter though.”

“Akloren,” says Caduceus reasonably, “could you maybe not be in your full dragon form? It might draw attention.”

“I don’t follow.”

“You’re scaring my friends. It’s rude.”

“Oh!” Aklohren inspects the gaggle of adventurers with massive golden eyes. “Very well! Fear not, I will take on a form less terrifying to you. One moment!” And then he turns into a tawny, eight-foot firbolg wearing almost identical attire to what Caduceus is wearing sans the armor. “Is this better? I will not harm you, friends of Caduceus Clay. But don’t annoy me. I’m here on important business.”

“What the fuck?” says Yasha.

Aklohren dashes over and beams at Caduceus with eyes the same gold and bronze color as his dragon form. “Hello! I have something to help with your travels.” He holds up a hand and in that hand there’s a flash of conjuration magic and strange silver chain materializes hanging from his hand. From the chain dangles a charm, some kind of polished stone that glitters invitingly in the half-light. “This stone will make you invisible to all dragons except me.”

“I… that’s great. I don’t think we fight many dragons, but that’s great.”

“Oh, that is not all. I just want you to wear it so other dragons don’t see you.”

He brusquely loops the necklace over Clay’s head and waits for Caduceus to finish pulling his hair from the loop so it rests around his neck. Caduceus ignores the anxious noises Caleb is making from the back ground watching his teammate put on ‘unidentified magical shit’ as he might call it. There was an incident with a ring of possession and he’s been very paranoid ever since.

“It looks amazing,” declares the dragon. “I have great taste.”

“Yes,” says Caduceus because what else do you say? “I’m sure making certain that other dragons don’t see me will… help… other dragons not hire me before you can.”

“Exactly!”

Aklohren gestures again and there’s a thunk as a large chest materializes out of nowhere and lands in the grass so hard, the lid pops off. In the chest is what looks like a small fortune in platinum, a variety of strange objects, and several glass bottles full of seeds. There is also a small crystal terrarium containing a single living sapling spout and its own hazy pink atmosphere withing the orb. Caduceus immediately kneels down and takes in his hand. Aklohren beams.

“That is an evermore seed,” he says, very proudly. “They grow in the Feywild. Finding and acquiring one is a very difficult task that takes incredible skill and bravery. It can be persuaded to grow in your Blooming Grove. It will not stop the corruption that eats your home, but it can hold it off while you do… whatever you are doing to stop it.”

Caduceus cradles the seedling and stands up, speechless at first.

“Thank you. I… don’t know how to repay you.”

“When you have saved your Blooming Grove thing, come tend to my kingdom for me!”

“Oh. Right.”

“I will continue to look for solutions to this problem. I am sure I will solve it before these people.” He gestures vaguely and dismissively at the rest of the Mighty Nein who are all giving Caduceus looks of variable horror, awe, and utter disbelief. “I may see you again before I find the solution. I have other things to do that are more important of course, but this is also very important to me because it is very important to you.”

“I’m very flattered,” Caduceus says. “The affairs of dragons are very important in the grand scheme of these.”

“Yes!”

“Are you… doing well in your endeavors to grow your kingdom?”

“Yes!” Aklohren glares a little over his shoulder, as if at something specific. “There is a blue dragon that is bothering me, but I am very good at avoiding her and she is very stupid compared to me. So do not worry about me, lovely one. I will return.”

Then he rather unexpectedly takes Caduceus’ free hand in his and, in a rather ridiculous flourish, kisses the palm of his hand (Clay suspects he read a book about this and got the details wrong about which side to kiss). He beams. Then he jogs away, turns back in to a dragon, and takes off flying until he disappears up into the cloud cover and is gone from sight. This leaves Caduceus standing next to a chest full of treasure with a magical baby tree in his hand and the rest of his team staring at him. He turns around, still cradling the tree.

“I,” he says, “can explain.”

Jester, her palms squished into her cheeks, screams, “YOU HAVE A DRAGON TRYING TO MARRY YOU! THIS IS JUST LIKE DANCING WITH DRAGONS!”

“It is not,” Fjord says loudly, “in anyway like your weird romance novel—”

“He wants to take you away to his hoard of dragon gold that overlooks the sea!”

“Actually, brass dragons live in deserts,” says Caleb, a little dazed. “There will not be a seaside view.”

“Probably not,” says Caduceus. “Look, this doesn’t change anything, I hope. He’s very friendly. See, dragons are a little odd about finding people to look after their affairs while their sleeping and for some reason Aklohren would really like to hire me to look after his affairs. He’s a dragon. They do things on their own timeline so… it might be another decade before he comes back.” He shrugs. “I don’t think he’ll hurt anyone. He knows I think that’s rude.”

“He seemed nice,” says Yasha.

“HE SEEMED LIKE A BILLION FOOT TALL DRAGON!” yowls Nott.

“He wasn’t that big actually,” says Caduceus. “He’s a fairly young dragon. He’s still establishing his domain I think.”

“Holy fuck,” says Beauregard, sitting down in the grass. “You have a dragon chasing you around?”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t think to mention it earlier?” Fjord strains.                     

“I thought he wouldn’t approach me as an actual dragon. The other three times he came to me as dryad, an elf, and dragonborn respectively. It’s always been very polite and… well, it’s best to be polite to dragons. And brass dragons tend to be good… a little odd, but good.”

“Holy fucking shit.” Beau his gripping her hair in two fists, looking at Caduceus in horror. “Was he… was he that dragonborn I punched in Zedash? Please tell me he wasn’t the dragonborn I punched in Zedash.”

Caduceus says nothing.

“CAD?”

“You said not to tell you.”

Beau collapses on the grass hyperventilating and Yasha has to go pet her hair to calm her down.

“I think you were right, by the way, Beauregard.”

“About what?” she wheezes.

“About him trying to hire me because he actually, you know, likes me and doesn’t know what to do about it. It’s a little awkward, but he’s a dragon so I don’t know how to bring it up.”

“Oh my god,” Beau says, covering her face with two hands. “I punched a dragon. I punched a dragon and the dragon is horny for our cleric. Oh my god.”

“Dragons can mate with almost any species due to their shape shifting abilities,” says Caleb helpfully, but mostly in a daze. He’s sitting on a log now, staring into the middle distance. “There is an incredible amount of literature on it, actually.”

“Do not tell me about your academic dragon smut,” Fjord growls.

“Very sexy,” says Caleb in that way that makes is very unclear if he’s joking or not.

“How about I make everyone dinner and we just talk about it over an omlette,” says Caduceus.

Nott is literally crying. “Okay. That would be great, Cad.”

Jester is bouncing up and down. “DOES HE BRING YOU FLOWERS FROM EXOTIC LANDS, CADUCEUS?”

It’s a weird evening, but then again the bar for ‘weird’ keeps moving and somewhere out there, a dragon is day dreaming about hanging gardens. So just another night in Wildemount.