“Perhaps. She had less affinity for magic than you, Zamnes,” Ilrenth mused, finally turning away to pace in a wide circle. “My mother Amaranthe’s recommendation might help them tolerate your presence, if you are so desperate to speak to them yourself, though.”
He paused, not wanting to sound too eager. “Yes, I think that would work well. I am very... curious.”
“I can see this.”
“Thank you, mother,” he said, scuffling toward her, while still pressed low to the ground. “I am indebted to you. If there is ever anything I can do to help you, of course, you need only ask.”
“Hmm,” she murmured, looking down at him with one eye. A slight grin split her features, full of fangs. “I will remember this the next time I need a favor.”
Adrissu forced his expression to remain neutral and subservient. He hated the thought of being indebted to anyone, even his own mother; but already he felt as if he had learned enough to make it worth it. She, at least, was unlikely to call in a favor that would be detrimental to him in some way... Hopefully.
“You know where to find her lair?” Ilrenth continued abruptly, and he nodded.
“Yes, I will find her,” he said. The last thing he wanted was to have to ask his mother for more help.
“She is closer to your home than mine,” she said, turning away. “Show her the same deference as you have to me and you should be fine. Although I’d suggest perhaps not arriving in your true form... Just in case.”
“I understand.”
“Is there anything else?”
“No, mother.”
“Then go.”
Adrissu slunk away, not turning his back to her. She watched him for a moment, then slowly lowered her head and turned; only then did he also turn his back, and after a few more steps began to flap his wings, taking to the air before the rocky beach beneath him gave way to the ocean again.
Ruan was still gone when he returned to Polimnos, so Adrissu rested for a day before heading out once more. His elder mother Amaranthe was a silver-scaled dragon whose lair was not terribly far from his own; she had taken up residence in the central area of Autreth long before the dwarves lost control of it, driving dwarven workers from a deep mine and setting up residence there. He did not know exactly where it was, but no part of the world forgot a dragon. Zamnes was still spoken of in Polimnos, so he was confident that once he arrived in Gennemont, the largest city-state of Autreth, he would be able to narrow down her location without issue.
This time he flew only under the cover of night, high enough that any travelers who might be out under the stars were unlikely to spot him, touching down in a shaded copse before the sun rose. When he illusioned himself into a human-sized form, he took instead the appearance of a plain-looking human man, as generic as he could imagine. While Gennemont was sure to have more than a handful of elves, he knew that humans were still the vast majority anywhere in Autreth, and the less he stood out the better.
Adrissu walked the rest of the way into Gennemont, following a wide stone path that steadily filled with more travelers the closer he got to the city-state. Once through the city gates, it only took an hour or two of asking around the taverns to hear a handful stories about the local dragon that seemed to agree on a few key details. The abandoned mine that had been claimed by the dragon, nearly four centuries ago now, was in a stretch of foothills nearly a week to the northwest on foot. By flight, Adrissu guessed he could get there in another day. He rented a room, slept the rest of the day, and left again after the sun had set.
Finding the foothills where the mine had been was not difficult—locating the entrance to the dragon’s lair from above, at night, proved tricky. He ended up landing about a mile away, and by sunrise he made his approach on foot in the same human guise. After a few false starts down collapsed mine shafts, Adrissu eventually found a shaft with a rough-hewn sheer drop—the telltale sign of a dragon’s den.
He stood at the edge, listening, but only the distant sound of wind, echoing from the way he’d come, was audible.
“Hello,” he called out over the edge of the drop. “I am Zamnes, son of Ilrenth, your daughter. I seek an audience with you. Are you here, Amaranthe?”
For a long moment he listened, straining for any sign of a response. When the first hints of doubt started to creep in—making him wonder if Amaranthe truly was here, or if she had somehow been slain without his mother’s knowledge—a rumbling sound echoed up from within, barely discernible as a word.
“Enter.”
Adrissu hesitated, peering down into the darkness. He had never met his elder mother, and though she had allowed him entrance, there was still no telling how she might treat him. If his presence was an unwelcome enough intrusion, she might lure him down to kill him.
But he was being paranoid, he told himself. He had never met the dragon. If he truly bothered her so much, she would more than likely send him away without violence; and as long as he did not resist, he imagined things would be fine. Right?
His human disguise fell away, and he stretched into his true form, filling the mineshaft almost entirely before dropping down the wide opening. He spread his wings just enough to slow his descent and examine his dim surroundings—as he fell, he could sense the presence of another dragon rapidly drawing nearer. Beneath him, light began to glow, and with a few strong flaps of his wings, he touched down at the bottom of the drop almost silently.
Standing over him on her hind legs was Amaranthe, her silver scales gleaming in the light of many torches and braziers set up throughout the wide chamber in which he now found himself. The moment he landed, he crouched low to the ground on all fours, looking up at her with only his eyes.
“Venerated elder mother,” he said, pressing himself as low as his body would go, until his whole underside was flush to the cold stone floor. Humiliating as it was, it was his best choice if he wanted to ensure that he left here alive. Even as he spoke, he seethed with how much he hated draconic custom and all its ridiculous posturing. “This humble one thanks you for welcoming him into your home. I promise I won’t bother you long.”
The silver dragon looked him over, still towering over him. Her eyes were not blue like his mother’s, but a pale gray that was somewhere between white and the silvery sheen of her scales.
“I suppose you are Ilrenth’s son after all,” she finally sighed, dropping down to stand on all fours and looking away from him. “I heard she had mated with a black-scaled male. A shame you turned out like him. Her blue would have been fine, but another silver would have been better.”
Adrissu bit his tongue, bristling at the rude remark. Yet another vestige of draconic custom that entirely crumbled beneath the knowledge and wisdom other dragons so loved to claim—he had no choice in the color his scales grew, yet somehow they were less valuable than her own silver hue. This, he reminded himself bitterly, was why he had eschewed the presence of other dragons for so long.
