It was a frog. It was a three and a half foot, standing on two long legs, frog.

Nellie realized her mouth was hanging open and quickly closed it. She cleared her throat and twisted around.

“Uh… Brody,” she called, unsure. She tensed, clutching her wooden sword up to her chest as more frogmen appeared from the weeds. “Brody!”

“Oh, good, you’ve found them,” Brody said, taking his hand off his steel sword. “Calix, get a vantage to get the numbers. Itzel…” He pulled a crumpled paper from his pocket. “Fayzer barry-cada de fogo… Sem ree-coo-are…?”

Itzel’s dark eyes looked worried. She twisted the hem of her shirt anxiously with one hand, clutching a long, beaten wooden stick with the other.

“Um… fire,” Brody said, pointing to a clump of dry, tall grass. He looked back at his paper. “Which was fire… Fogo?” He gestured to the grass. “Fogo.” He pointed at the frogmen. “No fogo.”

Itzel nodded slowly.

“Nellie, you’ll be with me ushering them into the trailer” Brody said. “Cal, how many?”

“I see twelve,” Calix called from somewhere about Nellie’s head.

“Itzel, fogo,” Brody said pointing to the grass. “Ready, Nellie?”

She nodded meekly despite not feeling at all ready. She was still grasping with being stared at by huge frogs. She cringed as one licked its orb-like eye.

The fire was lit, and the frogmen scattered. Calix yelled out positions and numbers from his perch. Brody must have been moving them into the waiting trailer successfully because the numbers were dwindling, and Nellie was confident she was doing nothing but run in circles.

“Two,” Calix called out. “Nellie, left shoulder! Brody, right knee! Ah, one! Nellie, behind!”

“Got it,” Brody said triumphantly. “Nellie, tell Itzel to stop the fire, and head for the truck.”

It was easier said than done to get Itzel to stop. The first hurdle was physically getting near enough to the young mage with her gleefully setting fire to whatever was dried near her. The next was the language barrier, which initially had Itzel set even more fires until the whole marsh was burning. She caught on once Calix and Brody were frantically kicking mucky water at the flames.

Nellie dragged herself back to the two trucks, one a muddy pickup hitched with a trailer and the other with a large cabin. Ira was speaking softly to the pickup’s driver–a middle-aged man in hunter fatigues. She was too singed, muddy, and damp to eavesdrop and headed for the larger truck.

“Are you the mage,” the man asked, breaking off his conversation with Ira.

“No,” Nellie said. “That’s Itzel.”

“This is Perenelle Herle,” Ira introduced. “Nellie, this is Keeper Orwell.”

“Herle,” Orwell mused, shaking Nellie’s hand as if she were an adult. “I briefly knew a Herle once. Englishman.”

“Her father,” Ira said.

“Really,” Orwell said in polite surprise. He bent to look her in the face. “Yes… I can see some resemblance.”

“Thanks,” Nellie said as she awkwardly leaned away.

Orwell straightened and turned his full attention back to Ira. “Herle was dreadfully serious from what I remember. Not at all like your father. When he turned out to be the Protector of the Realm… Well, I thought we were lost.”

Ira gave a tense smile. He gestured towards Calix and Brody. “Please, allow me to introduce you.”

Nellie slipped into the truck, startling when she found it wasn’t empty. Itzel waved meekly, curling against the door.

“Some night, huh,” Nellie said, slumping against the door. She watched Orwell shaking hands with Calix and Brody, their expressions flitting between pride and unease. “I think we did pretty well. Silas said frog-like water guardians, but I still wasn’t prepared for that.” She glanced at Itzel who was watching her in the dark cab with her large, dark eyes. Nellie had to remind herself that Itzel was two years older than her, and much more powerful in quiet moments like this.

She scooted into the middle as Brody climbed in. Calix took the front with Ira.

“We should arrive at our lodgings within fifteen,” Ira said, starting the truck. “We’ll stop at the Conservatory in Nahma tomorrow to check in on the frogmen before I drop you at the airport in Escanaba.”

There was a heavy silence in the truck. There was not a great amount of adrenaline to come down from, but they had run around a lot. They were starting to feel the hour time difference–for Nellie it was her timezone when she wasn’t at the compound–and it felt much later than shortly after sunset.

“Highness,” Brody squeaked. He cleared his throat. “Highness, I looked up frogmen to prepare for this mission… Aren’t we too far north?”

“Likely,” Ira said with a final sort of tone.

“Mr. Javernick says frogmen relocated often,” Calix said, twisting to address Brody better. “Too many developments in Ohio, so to Michigan. But, same situation.”

“And this group escaped en route to the Conservatory,” Nellie added. “Silas just asked if we could help for experience.” She leaned over into the front seat, looking at Ira. “Why you’re our chaperon is the bigger question.”

“The Order of Ferblanc and the Keepers both have presence here,” Ira said plainly. “I’m to speak with them.”

Brody was staring at his lap, frowning. “It… just seems too cold for amphibians….”

“The Keepers will monitor this population,” Ira said. “Their children will be better suited and able to be released.” He smiled into the rearview. “It’s admirable you show them concern.”

Calix turned towards them, flashing Brody a sturdy thumbs up.

They pulled into a parking lot for a large, yellow-bricked building. There was a small, rounded awning held by four white columns over the turquoise front door. Perched high above the door on the roofline was a cross made of the same yellow brick as the building.

Ira had his own room with a private bathroom. Calix and Brody shared a room with two full-sized beds while Nellie and Itzel were in a room with two single beds. The four of them didn’t have private bathrooms and had to take turns getting ready for bed in the communal one.

Nellie left the bathroom dressed in floral pajama bottoms and an oversized t-shirt. She stopped short to avoid colliding with Ira.

“Where’re you going,” Nellie asked, taking in that he hadn’t changed yet.

“To visit Cecily,” Ira said. “She should be here by now.”

“Let me put my toothbrush away,” Nellie said excitedly.

They were crossing the dark, back lawn five minutes later. Nellie crossed her arms tightly against the night air. It was a warm enough night, but she had never been so far north.

Cecily was in a grove of trees. Her wings glowed in the moonlight as she rustled them, chirping a happy greeting to them. She nuzzled Ira and scratched the ground with her front talons as if dancing in place.

Nellie felt a pang in her chest as she watched Ira smile softly, murmuring into the gryphon’s black, feathered head. She hadn’t seen Ash in nearly five weeks. The Regere’s offer to bring him to Silas’s compound drifted through her mind.

“Are you meeting up with Penny after you’re done doing… whatever it is here?”

“It’s unclear,” Ira said, giving Cecily a hearty pat. “I’d like to, but, unfortunately, my primary function is political and things are becoming very political.”

“Because… we just had an election,” Nellie asked unsurely.

Ira smirked, shaking his head. “A change in a country’s leadership is, of course, something I need to know and keep in mind, but no.” He gave Cecily one more pat before backing away. “Morgan has said nothing to you?”

She felt a twinge of frustration at Ira’s skirting around information. He was unhelpful when shown the dragon research. He was evasive on what he was doing next.

“Morgan doesn’t know most of what his dad gets up to,” Nellie said coolly. “He can’t even tell me where the Auctorita headquarters are.”

“To offer a defense, when you’re a child being ushered back and forth it does get confusing on where things are located,” Ira said.

They broke from the trees, walking slowly back up towards the brick building. She waited for Ira to expand on his defense with either the location or what it was Morgan could potentially have told her that was related to what he was doing, but nothing came. She stopped abruptly to force him to do the same.

“What’s going on,” Nellie asked. “You’re meeting with the Order, and the Keepers, and this all has to do with something you thought Morgan would know. It’s something I should know then, right?”

Ira stared at her, weighing what to say. She could practically see the scales balancing over his head.

“The Regere has been working for the last decade to turn the Auctorita home base into a legal, sovereign, internationally recognized state.”

“Like… its own country?” She frowned at Ira’s nod. “But…? Wait, what’s that mean for you and your dad? Or for the Realm in general?”

“Those are the big questions that my father needs answers to,” Ira said. “As this is a most important matter, I’m his ambassador to ask these questions.” He sighed heavily, staring into the starry sky. “It’s taking away from my search for my mother.”

“I can help look for your mom,” Nellie offered.

“You already are,” Ira said, smiling. “You, Penny, and I are in this together whether we’re physically together or not.”

The bubbles of pride and affection burst as a roar ripped the air. Nellie shrunk next to Ira, scanning the sky for the source of the heavy wing beats. She stole a look at the backdoor they’d been aiming for, her stomach sinking as it seemed to stretch away.

“Down,” Ira ordered, throwing her into the ground.

She felt his arm leave her back, heard his footsteps thudding away. She peeked up while keeping as flat as she could; her heart dropping as she watched him throw himself aside to avoid the talons of a calf-sized creature with a large rack of antlers.

“Nellie,” Ira called. “Get inside!”

He scrambled up and bolted for the trees. The animal made a wide turn with its red, leathery wings and swooped down at Ira again.

Nellie ran for the door, throwing herself through. She gulped at the air, flinched at the roar outside, and raced upstairs. She pounded on Calix’s and Brody’s door.

“Cryptid!” She pounded on her own door. “Creature! Ira needs help!” She tried Ira’s door but found it locked. “No, no!”

“Nellie, what–?” Brody looked half asleep, trying with difficulty to slip his feet in his shoes.

“I need your sword,” Nellie said. “Quick!” She shoved Brody aside—Calix pulling his sheets up to his chin—and took the sword from beside the door. She heaved it up, staggered, and headed back downstairs.

Cecily had joined the battle. She was slamming the creature aside when it swooped at Ira, screech-roaring and snapping at it with her sharp, curved beak. Ira looked more distressed, more frantic as he waved his arms and shouted to get the creature’s attention to stop it from fighting Cecily fully.

“Ira!” Nellie waved at him, pointing to Brody’s sword. “Ira! I got you a sword!”

The creature snapped its head towards her, and her breath died in her throat.

It had a human face. Unmistakably human even in the dark and at the twenty or so yards of distance. Its green, scaly body glittered as it bounded towards her on its four, massive bird feet. Its long tail whipped around as it got closer and closer.

Nellie couldn’t move. She was still staring in horror at the bearded face. The yellow eyes were locked on her.

Flames erupted in front of her, causing her to fall backwards. Itzel–in a princess nightgown–stepped next to her with her staff in her hands.

The creature roared, rearing up to swipe the air above. Calix was leaning from a window, shooting.

“Did it get you,” Brody asked, pulling Nellie up. He took the sword, eyeing the cryptid. “Wu–what is that thing?”

“I don’t–.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Brody interrupted. He tested the weight of his sword, sizing up the creature. He peered through Itzel’s flames at Cecily–now charging the creature again–and Ira. “His highness would fare better… I need to get this sword to him.”

“I’ll distract the… thing,” Nellie said, trying to sound resolute through the quiver in her voice. She looked at Itzel. “Come with me?”

“Calix,” Brody called, “cover the girls!”

Nellie ran out around the fire. She shouted, jumping and waving her arms. She could hear the wing beats, feel them. Her heart jumped as they grew loud enough to shake her body. She stumbled as a blast of fire warmed her back, landing hard on the ground and biting her lip. She spit out the blood as she clawed up to her feet, limping the first few steps until she was trotting again.

An earsplitting scream forced her to stop. She spun and felt her blood turn cold.

The creature had landed on Itzel. She was pressing her staff up against its neck to stop it from biting her with its needle-like teeth.

Nellie looked around for something to throw, finding nothing in the dark. She ran off, being sure to keep enough distance that it couldn’t claw her.

“Hey,” Nellie snapped, waving at it. “Hey, you! Come get me!” She shrunk as it stared at her, but she rooted her feet. “I see you, you creep! Come get–!”

She cried out, knocked over by the creature’s long, whipping tail. Her arm was gushing blood and she spotted a shining, hooked claw on the end of the tail as the cryptid snaked it through the air. Her blue eyes widened as the clawed tail swung towards her face.

Brody jumped in front of her, swinging a sword clean through the end of the creature’s tail. He stood ready to counterattack, dodging as the creature swiped, but getting caught and tossed by the spurs on the animal’s wing joints.

Fire sprung across the grounds. Itzel had rolled onto her stomach, half propped up by her staff, clutching it with both hands.

Ira ran up to them with Calix on his heels. Calix was holding his arm like his shoulder was injured, but Nellie didn’t see blood.

“Dimopoulos, cover them,” Ira ordered. “Jones, can you stand?”

“Yes, highness,” Brody said, hastily jumping up. “Just ripped my pajamas.” He held out the sword he held. “Your sword, highness.”

“Broke your door,” Calix explained, grimacing as he held his arm. “Sorry.”

“For later,” Ira said. “At the moment, just get the girls back indoors.” He switched swords with Brody. “Jones, keep to the building. It can’t swoop you there. Ready? Go!”

Nellie grabbed Itzel’s arm and pulled her up, half trying to explain and half trying to breathe as they sprinted for the door. Itzel being distracted caused her fires to wane into smoulders, giving the creature renewed vigor now that it could see and smell them clearer. Nellie could hear the wing beats getting closer, closer, until she could feel them in her chest.

Calix spun, hurled a grenade with a pained cry as his arm flopped about. It exploded in a puff of putrid smoke that sent them coughing and caused Nellie’s stomach to churn.

The smoke cut as soon as they shut the doors behind them.

“What’s going on out there,” an elderly man asked.

He was not alone. The hallway was packed with what looked like all the guests and staff. Some were muttering to go out the front to see what all the noise was, others to call the police.

“Nellie,” Calix murmured, crouching to her level, “keep them in.”

He darted back outside before she could ask him how.

“Arm,” Itzel said, twisting from Nellie’s grip. Nellie blushed at the fading mark of her hand.

“Where are your parents,” a short woman asked them, eyeing them suspiciously. 

Calix reappeared before Nellie had to lie. His disheveled hair, rotten smoke stink, and uncomfortably dangling arm spiked the tension building in the crowded hall.

“There is gas leak,” Calix announced to the hall. Cecily’s screeching roar sounded outside. “Very dangerous leak.”

“There are no gas lines out there,” a tall man dressed in slacks and a collared shirt said.

“There’s some boy with a sword at the front door,” a shrill voice said from the back of the mob. “He won’t let us leave!”

“Ira’s fighting that thing alone,” Nellie whispered to Calix.

“The gryphon is there,” Calix murmured back.

There had to be something she could do. Calix, Brody, and even Itzel had a better chance at assisting Ira in combat, but Calix couldn't hold a bow and Itzel’s nightgown was blossoming with blood. Calix and Brody were also now stuck trying to contain the increasingly agitated mob from going outside and getting ripped apart.

“My phone…,” Nellie muttered.

“Is that girl bleeding?”

“Yes,” Nellie piped up, taking Itzel’s arm again. “Let us through, please.” She looked back at Calix as a path cleared for them. “I have the Order on my phone. Hold out just a little longer.”

They hurried back to their room, Nellie being sure to release Itzel to not bruise her further along the way. Nellie grabbed her phone from the night table and went to a contact labeled: **EMERGENCY!!!!

‘Order of Ferblanc.’

“H-hi, this is Perenelle Herle,” Nellie said. “I’m with Ira York in Garden, Michigan. He’s being attacked by some… uh, thing? There’s a lot of normal people here, and we’re having a hard time keeping them inside.”

Itzel tapped her shoulder. She gestured to the blood on her nightgown with a scowl.

“Oh, and we have injuries,” Nellie added.

‘The Knights will be there in three, Miss Herle. Anything else, Miss Herle?’

“This cryptid has a human face,” Nellie said. “I-I don’t know if that’s relevant, but… it’s better they know before seeing it.”

‘Understood, Miss Herle; we thank you. They’ll be there now.’

“Thanks,” Nellie said, exhaling. She hung up and took a few deep breaths. She smiled weakly at Itzel. “I think we should stay up here and wait for medics. Or whatever.” She winced as she touched the tacky blood on her arm.

“It hurt,” Itzel asked quietly.

“A little,” Nellie said. “How about you?”

Itzel studied the blood on her nightgown. She sighed heavily. “Ruined.”

They met each other’s eyes, smirked, and started giggling madly.

-----------------------------------

The frogmen at the Loveland Frogman. There were several reports from cops and random people over the years, but the reports did start to die off. Either the frogmen died out or the population moved. I wanted the teased fieldtrip to be something reletively harmless since Silas doesn't want any of them to get hurt.

What Brody was saying to Itzel sounds nothing like that in Portugese. I forgot what it was I typed it, but then I just wrote out what the works looked like as an English speaker and then played the sound to see how different it was. Very different.

The upper pennicula area of Michigan looks wild and crazy, so I thought it'd be a good spot for a Conservatory and a with all the old religious stuff in the area, it was good for the Order of Ferblanc too. There's a small hamlet called Devils Corner that I wanted to take advantage of, but didn't fit it in. The whole thing with the creating a new state/country is more for Ira's eventual story. Nellie gets obsticals like being a noob and young.

With the fight, Brody first shows up with his sword and gives his sword to Ira. Things are still bad, so Calix, being inside still, breaks down Ira's door to retrieve Ira's sword. He crushes his shoulder in the process but gets Ira's sword to Brody. And since I didn't get to say what the cryptid is here (hopefully next chapter) it's called a Piasa Bird. It lives in cliffs in the Illinois area of the Mississipi River, but with development migration I put it up here. I have a picture from my dragon book that I'll put in the chat.

Nellie was called to Silas’s office shortly after she and Morgan had spread out the dragon lore he’d been collecting. It was hard to hide her annoyance at this interruption as she stalked to his office; it had taken her almost an hour to politely ditch Ava who was eager to give swordpractice a try. Nellie had been begging her for weeks to partner up with her since they were both novices.

The office was crowded. Silas sat behind his polished desk. Lilac and Arch sat in the provided chairs before it. Fin and Arden stood behind them. Nellie squeezed herself between Fin and Arden, the three of them glancing at each other questioningly.

“I apologize for having you all here at once,” Silas said. “Busy day. Too busy for me to give each of you a separate fifteen.” He set his eyes on Arden and Fin first. “There’ll be a special guest at the stables for the next two nights. I’m having you both tend to her. Arden will take evenings. Serafin will take mornings. Here.” Silas stretched to hand them each a short list through Lilac and Arch. “Give those to Mrs. Adams, and she’ll set you up.”

“We have to study too,” Arden groaned.

“Britt did send you here to learn,” Silas teased. He nodded to the doors. “I’d get your reading material fast.”

She jostled side to side to give Arden and Fin each space to get to the door behind her. She moved closer so she was standing more between Arch and Lilac than up against the door.

“I’ll have Mrs. Adams announce it during morning lessons, but our guest is of the royal variety,” Silas said. “He’ll need–.”

“Ira,” Nellie interrupted hopefully, wiggling with excitement. “And the box stall is for Cecily, right?”

“Cecily,” Lilac questioned. “What a pretty name….”

“His highness did ask if you were still here,” Silas said with a smile. “As I started to say, his highness will need attendants. Archibald, I was hoping with you being one of the eldest here…?”

“Oh my goodness me, you want me to wait on the prince,” Arch asked, his eyes wide. “B-but, I’m just some mage!”

“The prince doesn’t have any grasp on magic outside of some training with the Order as a kid,” Silas said. “I think he’ll be interested to hear about it from someone that actually has it.”

Arch’s pale cheeks were tinted pink. He murmured inaudibly, nodding. He looked more like a small boy than a six-two teenager capable of creating golems.

“Right,” Silas said, gesturing to the door. “I’ll let you prepare. I need a word with the girls.”

Nellie took Arch’s chair as he left. She stole a glance at Lilac but found the older girl inspecting split-ends in her waistlength blonde hair, humming quietly.

“I would like to have you two tackle the medium greenhouse,” Silas said. He smirked. “Disappointed, Nellie?”

“Oh,” Nellie said, blushing. “N-no… Yes. A little.”

“I’m not great with conversation,” Lilas said.

“No, no, it’s got nothing to do with you,” Nellie panicked.

“We don’t have a huge focus on plants and what you can do with them, and I think Lilac here could fill in some of those gaps,” Silas said. He smiled warmly at Lilac. “She’s a skilled organic chemist. The Auctorita will benefit immensely once she’s old enough to build traveling arsenals fulltime.”

“But college first,” Lilac sighed.

“It’ll strengthen your natural talent,” Silas said. “You’re going in with a plan. No worries.”

She wanted to ask what a traveling arsenal was, but remembered how Penny had released smoke when facing the Cumberland dragon and how Lilac had let loose a smoke grenade when Fin and Morgan were fighting. Nellie hadn’t given either case much thought, but it made sense that someone had to make those.

Lilac stood, jolting Nellie from her thoughts, and left the office with a list in her hand.

“Anything you need to discuss,” Silas asked.

“Not really…,” Nellie trailed off, searching her brain. “Is Penny coming back? If Ira’s going to be here, is she?”

“Not to my knowledge,” Silas said. “She comes and goes without much notice.” He grabbed some papers. “It’s early, but I might as well tell you now that I’m setting up a field trip. I’m thinking you, Brody, Itzel, and perhaps Calix for this one.”

“What kind of field trip,” Nellie asked curiously.

“Patience, Nellie, patience,” Silas said, winking.

Morgan was less than thrilled when Nellie told him about Ira visiting. He grumbled and sulked as Nellie searched the table for an intriguing dragon story to take his mind off his self-imposed rival.

“If Ira’s here, and Penny was just here, then we should focus on a North American dragon story,” Nellie said. She looked hopelessly at the scatters of notes and printed out artist renditions. “Do you have these in any sort of order?”

“That’s what we’re supposed to be doing now,” Morgan said, “but you’re all on about his highness.”

“All I said was that he’s visiting,” Nellie said icily. “And really, that’s good for us. We can ask him which dragon stories he and Penny already investigated.”

“True,” Morgan said grudgingly.

He bent under the table to retrieve a plastic filing case with a cheap, black clasp. He dumped it out, spilling a small,thin marker and little colored slips of paper.

“I found this in one of those airport stores that’s all office supplies,” Morgan said. “There are seven colors. We can work out a system. Continents. Number of legs. Whatever makes sense.”

“You bought it on your way here,” Nellie asked, grinning. “You knew exactly what you wanted to do when you came back to the States.”

“It was the most memorable part of my last visit,” Morgan joked.

The first thing they had to do was match images with notes. Morgan had copied articles and folklore tidbits off the internet and out of books. He later printed pictures off at random after arriving at the compound. It was a puzzle to piece them together, and not all notes had images, and not all images had a caption for what dragon it was supposed to be.

A picture of a red-eyed creature with metallic feathers and scales, and a long, sharp beak caught her attention. Nellie saw Morgan had scrawled ‘snallygaster’ in the corner.

“Why d’you have a snallygaster in here?”

“Dragon adjacent,” Morgan said. He plucked the image from her, pairing it with notes. “We don’t know the exact definition for what is a dragon. I put that famous Scottish pond creature in here too.”

“Nessie? Wait, Nessie’s real?”

“How can you still be surprised by such things,” Morgan asked, rolling his hazel eyes.

“That needs to be our first division,” Nellie said. “Straight up, common-ish dragons versus dragon adjacent.”

They slowly began forming four piles. They marked the more traditional dragons with red slips, water based creatures like Nessie with blue, and creatures like the snallygaster–typically bird-esque–with yellow. Investigated stories they agreed to mark with white. The Cumberland dragon was the only one with Nellie debating on the snallygaster.

“It’s just weird thinking of it as a dragon,” Nellie said.

“Adjact.”

“Your dad heard about the trouble, interfered just on a whim to use me as bait–.”

“Was it a whim,” Morgan asked. “From my perspective, there was a creature the Order of Ferblanc couldn’t handle–weird enough–so he decided to dangle you out to see if it reacted.”

She marked the snallygaster with a white tab and set it on top of the Cumberland dragon notes. It was hard to think of the creature in the same way she thought of the Cumberland dragon, but Morgan’s assessment of the Regere’s thoughts could not be ignored either.

She had been told finding dragons was unusual, right up there with her having Ash in her life. She was two for two, still firmly the weird kid.

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she remembered Ira was also the weird kid by those metrics.

---

Mrs. Adams had them dress in their formal wear that afternoon. It had spread among them that Prince Ira would be visiting, and they fidgeted and buzzed at each other while they waited in the sweltering heat outside the grand front doors.

A black luxury car crept up the drive, coming to a halt with the front turned back down the drive. The driver hurried to the door, paused to straighten himself, and then opened.

Nellie raised her hand enthusiastically, but her enthusiasm dipped with her hand just as Lilac’s and Ava’s joy went up a notch, captured by short squeals.

Ira’s golden hair was a shade darker with the amount of mousse in it to keep it perfectly in place. His shirt was pressed with the sleeves carefully rolled and stitched into three-quarters. His dress pants had a subtle checkered pattern that matched the lapels of the dark blazer he carried over his shoulder. He carried a leather case in his other hand, and Nellie couldn’t help noticing that it matched his absurdly polished shoes.

“Your highness,” Mrs Adams said solemnly, bending her knee with great effort. She motioned at Arch. “Mr. Archibald Willoughby will see to your needs while you’re with us.”

“Thank you,” Ira said crisply. “Has the stable been prepared?”

“Yes, highness,” Mrs. Adams said, gesturing for Arden and Fin to step from line. “These will be the attendants.”

“No need for that,” Ira said. “My room?”

Mrs. Adams shooed them to the side to usher Ira in out of the heat. They hovered, peering through into the foyer.

“I should…,” Arch trailed off. He slid through them, into the house, and disappeared up the staircase.

“Awesome,” Arden said, breaking the silence. “I was told not to do chores by royalty. Mrs. Adams can’t say anything.”

“Do you think it’s safe to change,” Brody asked, tugging his collared shirt. “I’m boiling.”

“I change clothes if you do,” Calix said, slipping from his suit jacket.

“Same,” Fin said.

The three of them headed off to change with Arden a step behind, still bragging that he was let out of chores.

“I’m not staying dressed up for him,” Morgan grumbled. He said something to Itzel, presumably asking if she wanted to change, and they both headed indoors.

Lilac swayed in her billowy peach and pink dress. She spread the long layers of skirt and did half a twirl.

“I’m going to the garden,” she announced. “The larkspur is still in bloom.”

“We should change too,” Ava said. “It’s still at least four hours until supper, and you know that’ll be formal.” She sighed dreamily. “He’s much more handsome than you said. Straight out of a fairytale!”

Nellie didn’t comment beyond a forced smile as she strode across the entryway towards the stairs. The perfect, polished prince was not the Ira she knew. He was much colder, more detached. He had not so much as glanced at her when he arrived.

She was slipping her feet into her sneakers when a firm knock sounded on her door. She grabbed her other shoe. “It’s unlocked,” she called out.

“You stopped texting.” Ira laughed awkwardly. “Well, didn’t give you much reason to keep it up, did I?”

He still wore the dress pants, but had changed his buttoned shirt for a loose fitting, plain t-shirt. His hair was still terribly stiff and unnatural.

“Are you supposed to be talking to me,” Nellie asked.

“Are you cross because I ignored you outside,” Ira asked, smirking. She reddened but he was looking at his nails, or pretending to. “Truth be told, I’m not sure how all right it is for us to be chummy. It very well could ruin the social life you’re building here.”

Nellie scoffed, “How?”

Ira gestured down himself incredulously. “I don’t know if you’ve caught on, Nellie, but I’m a prince.”

It had been a shock learning the guy who crashed on her couch a few times was royalty. She could clearly see Ira with his disheveled hair and old AC/DC shirt, politely trying to drink old, soggy, bagged tea.

She shrugged. “So?”

“Cheers,” Ira said, smiling weakly. “But, others may not feel that way about my status.”

“I’m already the odd one with Morgan being my cousin,” Nellie pointed out.

Ira conceded with a nod. He crossed his arms and braced himself against the wall next to the door.

“I was going to head over to the stables shortly to wait for Cecily. Would you care to follow?”

Nellie was about to answer when her door was thrown open, causing her to fall off the edge of her bed. 

“Morgan,” Nellie hissed, massaging her back as she stood. “What if I was changing?”

“Then, I'd hope you’d have your door locked,” Morgan said. He glared at Ira out of the corner of his eye. “You should lock it to stop people wandering in.”

“Good to see you again, Master Morgan,” Ira said in monotone.

“Highness,” Morgan said, nodding. He sauntered over to Nellie and plopped the plastic filing case on her bed. “We need but a moment, sir, then you’re free to go wander off and ignore us little folk.”

“Not now, Morgan,” Nellie said. “Ira just got here. He’s probably jetlegged.”

“All the more reason to knock this out quickly,” Morgan said stubbornly.

There was a twitch in Ira’s jaw that was either from annoyance or trying not to laugh. He kept his face neutral and eyes trained on Morgan’s small, skinny frame.

“What’ve you got,” Ira said after a long pause.

Morgan’s face lit up, but he covered it with a sneer so quickly that Nellie wasn’t sure Ira caught it. He unclasped the case and held it open to Ira with a superior air.

Ira peered in curiously.

“I started gathering notes on all the dragon lore I could find,” Morgan said. “As Nellie’s blood, I’m honorbound to help her find her mother.”

“Is that a fact,” Ira said, slightly bored, glancing from the case to Morgan. “May I?”

They crowded around Nellie’s bed. Nellie explained the labeling system as Ira picked through the pictures and notes. Morgan explained his dragon adjunct picks with his chest puffed out.

Ira froze with a picture of the Welsh flag in his hand. His clear, blue eyes were fixed on the image with intensity to burn through it.

“Ira?” Nellie touched his arm, causing him to jump.

“So sorry,” he said. He pinched his eyes. “I suppose I am more jetlagged than I thought.” He backed away from the bed. “Shall we try again tomorrow? I planned on taking a day for Cecily and me to rest before setting back out.”

“You can’t just tell us which dragons you’ve already faced and leave us alone,” Morgan asked.

“Morgan,” Nellie hissed, elbowing him.

Ira smiled wryly. He excused himself again, and left the room. Nellie assumed he was heading for the stables.

They were repacking the filing case when a knock sounded on her door.

“See,” she said to Morgan, “it’s normal to knock first. It’s open!”

Arch stood there looking bewildered. “Umm… I think I’ve lost his highness… Any chance you heard him walk by?”

----------------------------

Getting some setup. I named Arden's mom Brittany, because I thought it would be funny to have a very sterotypical 80s/90s name floating around.

I was going to have Morgan answer Arch with a 'no didn't see him, omg you disappointment' and Nellie directing him to the stables, but it wasn't really needed.

Things started to settle at the compound after Uncle Winston’s visit. Nellie had been forced to promise not to do anything rash regarding the possibility that the Regere knew where Rhys was. She was unsure what that encompassed and made a note to ask the Regere about her father when the opportunity arose.

It was creeping to mid-June with no word or visit from the Regere. Not even Morgan received calls or letters from his father, although his mother wrote often. He lazily read through that week’s letter, his chin propped on his fist.

“She sends her love,” Morgan said blandly, folding the short letter away.

The group of them sat around the den with notes from home. Each letter was at least a page front and back for everyone else, some of the contents not being well wishes or lamentations judging by some of the expressions Nellie saw around her.

“I told her to keep the dog out of my room,” Brody grumbled from his beanbag.

“Was it your models,” Arch asked, his eyes locked on his own letter.

“He ate Notre Dame and St. Peter’s!”

Nellie smiled sympathetically as her mind flashed back to when Ash was ripping her pillows and bedding daily. She scanned her letter for the parts about Ash as a pang of loneliness struck her.

“Oh,” Lilac said. “Looks like my parents want to visit.” She hummed, sucking on her pinky nail. “Two weeks might be too short notice to put in a room request….”

“Our families are allowed to visit,” Ava asked.

“Yeah, of course they are,” Fin said, frowning. “This ain’t a prison or anything.”

“Mrs. Adams likes a month of notice to get everything perfect,” Brody said. “Mr. Javernick doesn’t care as much, and it is his house. Ask him, Lilac, and let him get Mrs. Adams’s wrath.”

“Oh, Brody, you can be so wicked,” Lilac giggled. Brody’s dark complexion deepened on his cheeks. She skipped off with her letter to her chest.

The mentions of Ash were few and far. Nellie noted to press for more regarding her smoke wolf. She hoped Nathalie was not ignoring him too badly.

The smell of smoke caught Nellie’s attention. Itzel’s letter was starting to smoulder at the corners. Her dark eyes shined with tears.

“Itzel,” Arch warned, grabbing her wrist. He easily looked over her shoulder, scowling. “Blast, I can’t make sense of it.”

Morgan went over, spoke something to Itzel in a quiet voice, and nodded as she answered.

“Release her, Willoughby,” Morgan commanded. “She’s just homesick. Her Conservatory has a new litter of iemisch that she’d been looking forward to.”

Arch let go. “English is difficult, but you’ll need it if you plan to join the Auctorita,” he said. “A common tongue is important. Isn’t that so, Calix?”

“I can help,” Calix offered. “I know how to learn it.”

“Why is it English,” Nellie asked. “The Regere lives in Portugal.”

“Portugese isn’t an international language,” Morgan said before Calix or Arch could answer. “We live in Lisbon, but that isn’t the center of the Auctorita. That’s just where my mother’s family is.”

“Makes it easy for us,” Arden said from the seat he was sideways on. He stuffed his letter in his pocket and swung himself upright. “Training dummies?”

“Sounds good,” Brody said.

Calix left a minute after Arden and Brody, presumably to go shoot targets. Fin settled to write his responses to his letters. Arch excused himself to the library to finish up a history assignment.

Ava suggested they go to the greenhouse before their required lesson. Nellie eagerly agreed and they set off, without Morgan much to Nellie’s chagrin.

There were three greenhouses on the property, the largest looking as if it was converted from a boat house. This greenhouse held a small pond with a waterwheel and several stone and wooden benches scattered about.

Lilac was kneeling in the wet muck by the pond. She was carefully searching the water with her fair hands, smiling dreamily when she pulled up a wad of sopping, dark leaves.

“Are your parents coming,” Nellie asked, sitting on the nearby stone bench.

“They are,” she said. She plucked apart the mess in her hand. “I hope the fern flowers bloom while they’re here.”

“Are you… checking them,” Nellie asked unsurely.

Lilac’s smile widened uncomfortably. “This is muthkwey.”

“For healing,” Ava whispered to her.

“If only I was a witch,” Lilac lamented. “Some of these are beyond me.” She tossed her clump of leaves back in the pond. “Off to the belladonna.”

“Poisonous,” Ava whispered as Lilac sauntered by.

She knew that much—belladonna was a popular poison across fiction—but let Ava have it. She hunched over the arm of the bench to smell a cluster of white flowers, glad to find them pleasantly fragrant and not pungent.

Ava had gingerly taken Lilac’s spot by the water, eyeing the plants below wistfully.

“I’m surprised Lilac’s parents are coming,” Nellie said offhandedly.

“It’s great, right? They must be forgiving each other.” She tapped the surface of the pond to create a ripple. “Or it’s just that absence makes you want to see them thing. I miss my parents.”

“You guys like each other though,” Nellie pointed out.

Nellie had made more of an effort to get to know the others since Uncle Winston allowed her to stay. She had been reluctant to ask about their lives outside of the compound, particularly their families, fearing it would open her to questions about her own. The image she created of everyone else having a loving set of parents was not true for all of them.

Silas had found Lilac in a shelter. She had run away from home a week prior after years of misunderstanding between she and her parents. They had screened her for autism, sent her to counselors and doctors, all because she could sense something they could not, and that she had no name for. They kept trying to find out what was wrong with her, when–as Silas surely explained to them–nothing was.

“I think I'm going to go ask Mr. Javernick if I can invite my parents,” Ava said. “If they can come the same week as Lilac's, that'd be awesome.” She frowned. “Well, it’ll be tricky for Dad on such short notice, but Mom should be okay.”

There was not much reason for Nellie to stay in the stuffy greenhouse after Ava left–except that it reminded her a little of the Everglades–so she departed for the stables. She hurriedly entered the stone building, the smile falling from her freckled cheeks.

Hodge was gone.

His stall door was open with half the shaving mucked into a wheelbarrow. She timidly peeked in as the scratch-scratch of the mucker reached her ears; her shoulders relaxed when she saw it was Fin. Disappointment seeped into her chest.

Fin jumped a mile. “Ay Dios mio! Don’t sneak up on me like that, Nell!” He clutched his chest. “You knocked the Spanish outta me.”

“Sorry… Hodge isn’t here?”

“Guess Penny grabbed him at dawn and took off,” Fin said, returning to his mucking. He wrinkled his nose as he deposited a lump of greenish poop in the wheelbarrow. “This is the closest I could get to him.”

“Suppose she was in a hurry,” Nellie said dully.

She crossed to the equipment room to grab the spare mucker. It was not like she and Penny were friends. They met the one time and there was about a decade between them. She just jumped to the assumption they had a bond seeing how they fought a dragon together.

“Penny never says bye,” Fin said, watching her. “I’ve been here a year, and I think I've only spoken to her twice. Same with Cal, and he’s been here for four years.”

She hummed recognition to what Fin said, but kept quiet otherwise. 

Silas told her back when he spoke to her and Nathalie about her coming to the compound that he urged Penny to join the Auctorita, and she refused. He told her she was the daughter of his friend, and that friend–Keena Fox–was friends with Rhys. Nellie confirmed as much with ‘Fox’ popping up in passing several times in Rhys’s letters to Nathalie. This was all information that sat too close to things she was supposed to keep quiet.

“Your dad’s a Knight with the Order of Ferblanc, isn’t he,” Nellie asked.

“In the Southwest USA chapter,” Fin said, puffing out his chest. He deflated and eyed her dubiously. “Why?”

“There’s no way he knew mine then?”

Fin smiled softly, shaking his head. “Sorry, Nell. I know he went to Rome as a cadet, but that would’ve been way after your dad’s time.” His hands tightened on the mucker as he stared at the cobbled floor. “He was young when he… transgressed.”

Nellie nudged him. “And mine was old.”

“Yours left the Order first,” Fin said pointedly, clearly looking happier. “But, I’ll take you as a member of the My-Father-Broke-Vows club any day.”

They had just finished sweeping the last remains of the shaving when Arden skidded into view, sweating and dirty from his swordplay.

“Oh good… you’re still here,” he said, panting. “Mrs. Adams said to prep the extra large box in the back.”

“You mean she told you to do it,” Fin said.

“But seeing that you’re already….” Aden turned and bolted. “IOU!”

Nellie left Fin with Arden’s chores. She had just reached the patio when Mrs. Adams appeared with her large cowbell. Nellie only just covered her ears when Mrs. Adams waved it over her head to signal to the kids roaming the grounds it was time for lessons.

The Montauk monster was not interesting by itself—hairless, chubby, with a pointed almost beak-like jaw with its teeth exposed that ate decay, garbage, and rotting roots—but the reaction to one washing up on a public beach in the 2000s made learning about it more tangible than old stories of manticore or cockatrice from hundreds of years ago. Prior to the one that washed ashore, people had referred to them simply as gremlins.

“It took six years of small interviews, national interviews, and the occasional article to get the fallout under control,” Mrs. Adams said, stumping back and forth with her cane. “It is now generally accepted that the gremlin was a diseased racoon that somehow got out in the ocean, died, halfway decayed, and had all the fur stripped off in the process. Then, there is the school of thought that it was a hoax all along, which was a most acceptable narrative.” She whacked her cane against the giant projected image of the dead Montauk monster. “These incidents were one reason why there was little resistance when the Auctorita was formed. Keepers and the Order of Ferblanc had too much else to worry about. Yes, Miss Herle?”

Nellie lowered her hand. “Why is there all this effort to keep the Realm secret?”

“Partly so people like me don’t burn at the stake,” Arch said.

“Your input is unneeded, Mr. Willoughby; I am in charge of lessons,” Mrs. Adams said stuffily. “But, he does make a point. People in great numbers don’t act rationally, and dislike anything different. Mages are different. The separation keeps them safe. As for the creatures, some are quite dangerous and that could cause panic, but others have a… mysticism to them, which could cause greed, or other negatives. Take unicorns, as the example. Who can tell me about unicorns? Mr. Jones, yes?”

“Unicorns are hostile and can be dangerous to anyone except a virgin maiden,” Brody said. “People would get hurt trying to get near them. And, alicorn is a powerful healing material, so people would hunt them for it.”

“The creatures could very well be at a higher risk if the Realm was common knowledge,” Mrs. Adams said, nodding her approval at Brody’s explanation. “A mage could defend themselves, with or without magic. They’re human, and thus have reason. Trying to change the hearts and minds of people who discover a creature is dangerous, or has something valuable to them, that is impossible. Our single lives are just not long enough to do it. The rhinoceros is still hunted, yet we know their horns do nothing, and billions of dollars have been spent over the decades to stop it.” She turned off the projector and used a small remote to brighten the lights. “That’s enough of that for the day. Fifteen minutes, and then to algebra. Mr. Faust, see to that box stall. You can’t unload chores onto Mr. Cabrera. Miss Maebry, Miss Wagner, a moment.”

Nellie left with Morgan. She had wanted to get him alone for days, but thought asking Ava to go away was rude and suspicious, and she did not see asking Itzel to clear off going well. The young mage often hovered around Morgan with him being the only fluent Portuguese speaker at the compound.

“So… nothing at all from your dad,” Nellie asked.

“You know it’s only my mother writing me,” Morgan said, eyeballing her. “I suspect he went to headquarters.”

“Where is headquarters,” Nellie asked curiously.

Morgan furrowed his brows. He looked equally annoyed that Nellie was asking and irritated that he could not answer the question quickly or simply. He shrugged.

“It’s complicated,” he said flippantly.

“You’re just in the dark for everything, aren’t you,” she muttered. She sighed, turning away from his smouldering fury. “He told me that he knows where my father is. I was just wondering if you heard anything.”

He lost a bit of his edge, and dragged his feet as they moseyed towards the outdoors.

Morgan would be no help on information about Rhys. The Regere had a high, thick wall between his son and his position. Silas would have been a good source, but Nellie was not confident that he would divulge anything. He was more fervent about keeping her safe after Uncle Winston’s impromptu visit.

“Perhaps you should write my mother,” Morgan said offhandedly. “I highly doubt she’d know anything useful, but who knows.”

“That wouldn’t be too weird?”

“Have you met yourself,” Morgan scoffed. “Writing a letter is the least of your weirdness.” He rolled his eyes blatantly as she frowned at him. “You are using this camp to gain some skill so that you can hunt dragons, are you not? Or are you just playing pretend? Ready to go back to Tennessee and pass a test for some school? It’s abnormal no matter the choice.”

“Yeah, thanks for that,” Nellie said wryly.

“I’m submitting my letter to Mrs. Adams before curfew tonight,” Morgan said. “It makes no difference to me if you write her or not. I know where my father is.”

“Do you?”

“A better idea than you do,” Morgan seethed.

They glared at each other, hackles raised, and then stormed off in opposite directions.

---

The box of Rhys’s letters had been a tight fit. Packing an extra pair of shoes would have been more practical given how she often needed to dry her sneakers out, but sitting on the end of her bed scanned the letter where Rhys first complained about Brue felt better than dry shoes.

Nellie stole the photo of Rhys at his graduation from the photo album before Uncle Winston brought it back to Nana and Granddad. She traced the blond wave on top of Rhys’s head and absentmindedly felt the ends of her wavy, auburn hair.

She tore a large corner from her spiral notebook–full of notes from classes, mostly creature related–and wrote: Do you know where Rhys is? –Nellie

She scurried into the dark hall in her bare feet. The floor creaked as she tiptoed. The weak light from the wall sconce elongated and twisted her shadows. It felt foreboding making her way to Mrs. Adams’s office even though it was still before curfew.

Morgan was about to knock on the office door. He stopped with his fist raised and looked hauntingly at her.

“Here,” Nellie said, handing him the rip of paper.

He folded it, tucked it into his letter, and knocked.

“Master Morgan. Miss Herle.” Mrs. Adams looked to Nellie’s feet. “Shoes or slippers, Miss Herle. Bare feet outside your room is inappropriate.”

“Sorry,” Nellie mumbled, scrunching her toes.

Mrs. Adams took the letter from Morgan and stared at Nellie expectantly. The poor lighting in the hall deepened the lines and wrinkles on her face giving her a face that looked painted black and white.

“Oh, I don’t have my letter written yet,” Nellie said. “I was just… walking. With Morgan. He’s afraid of the halls at night.”

“I am not,” Morgan protested.

Mrs. Adams seemed to feel his protest was too strong to be genuine, her sharp eyes softening slightly as they passed over him.

“See him back to his room then,” Mrs. Adams said. She went rigid once more. “And don’t forget the rule about bare feet again.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Morgan said once they got back to the second floor.

They stopped outside Morgan’s room. It was at the start of the hall, next to Arden’s room and across from a full bathroom with a claw-foot soaking tub. Nellie had stolen away to that tub twice despite preferring showers to use the fizzy bath bombs.

“I’ve been looking into dragon lore,” Morgan said. He shuffled his feet. “Just in case you got curious.”

Nellie crossed her arms and leaned against his doorway. “I don’t even know where to start all that… I wish Penny stuck around a minute so we could talk.”

“She’s after her own mother; I doubt she’d be much help.”

“But she’s been hunting dragons for who knows how long, so could at least tell us which stories she and Ira have looked into,” Nellie said. She smiled weakly. “Want to have a cousin only day in the library tomorrow?”

Morgan tried to conceal his happiness, but his smile was too wide to pass off as forced or polite.

----------------------------

This was mostly a 'get to know' chapter. The kids can write everyday if they want, but letters are handed out once a week and sent out once a week. Mostly because half of them are international, so it's just easier. They all do a phone/video call a week too. They don't have calls and letters on the same day.

I mentioned way, way long ago that Rhys's vows he took when he joined the Order of Ferblanc were similar to the vows monks take. That includes celebacy. Fin's father broke his vow, was reprimaned (he was too new to be demoted), but his broken vow resulted in Fin, so he has to fulfill his duties as a Knight, but also the duties as a father the best he can. Fin knows his father, has a good, respectful relationship with him, but is ultimately being raised by a single mom since his parents aren't allowed to be married.