Tristan grabbed the man and glanced at Felicity. “Rope, and a spare shirt.”

  She reached into her storage dimension and grabbed both. Tristan quickly shoved the shirt into the man’s mouth, noting that he was not a Demonkin, but rather a half-breed of Drakonid heritage. “Looks like Duberceix takes all types,” Felicity quipped.

  Tristan glanced at her. “How is your essence capacity?”

  “Pretty high.”

  “Good.” Tristan turned to the assassin and ruthlessly ripped his arms off. Felicity let out a little gasp at the sudden brutality, but quickly performed a rejuvenation spell. “Now, I can rig this rope into a harness. In the meantime, get parchment and ink out.”

  “That was . . . Tristan, why?” Felicity didn’t sound ashamed or disappointed, just shocked.

  “I’m sending a message.” Tristan spoke and Felicity wrote down his words. “To Demon King Duberceix. You have attempted to kill me. You purged my bloodline. Well, you have failed. I have thwarted your assassin at every turn, and even now, I prepare to invade your realm. I have mapped it all out, and will strike where you are weakest.”

  “Why tell him that?”

  Tristan smirked. “He knows I’m from the Fey Realm by this point. And he will have gathered information about how fey residents act – tricky, and false. I say we will attack where he is weakest, and he will assume we are doing the opposite. What is the weakest part of his realm?”

  “The farmlands,” Felicity said.

  “Precisely. So he’ll fortify that position, moving his troops away from Mericlau territory. It will give our fairy dragon assassins a better chance to complete their mission. And we can front our forces with that false staging ground, forcing him to divert attention even further from the uprising of the Demon Houses allied to our cause.” He gestured with his hand as he hoisted the man onto his back. “Keep writing.”

  She flew on top of his head and kept writing as he spoke. “Your death is coming for you. All of your Venomous Rose will be eliminated. Nothing will be left of you or your works. I will do everything in my power to make sure of it. And you know my power is vast. Ask this vessel for my message, and he will share how I single-handedly slew several dragons before his eyes.” He grinned as he thought of the next part, knowing it was a partial lie. “You will be ruined utterly. I will strip your realm bare and graft it onto mine. I will show the Demonkin, the imps, the quasits, and even the demons who revere you, that there is a better path. They won’t be forced to join me – they will see that I am far better than an arrogant, vengeful, spiteful Demon King. Face me on the field of battle, if you dare, or hide in your citadel at the center of Saumur, and wait for me to come to you. I care not. You will die. With hatred in my heart, Tristan Dragonbloom, formerly Winterbloom. P.S. Yes, I have fused my bloodlines. The foe you face is even more dire.”

  Felicity finished writing his words and chuckled. “Some truth, some falsehoods, and lots of threats. How do we plan on delivering it?”

  Tristan saw the world warble around them, and he willed his destination into existence as he went into the wild. The cracked stone reappeared under his treads, and he walked through the portal to the inter-realm market. People gasped, as he was a blood-soaked warrior carrying what looked like a corpse. “Thread the message through the ropes.”

  Tristan was approached by several Citadel of Essence rift wardens, who eyed him with suspicion and stood in front of him. “You cannot come into the Citadel’s grounds like that,” one of them said.

  Tristan glared at the Broxtar, then recognized the man. “Percy Wright, I believe. We met.” Tristan pushed his dwindling essence into his Anorox Family Crest and took on his Bhant Human appearance. “This assassin tried to kill me. I’m just returning him to the Demon Realm.”

  Percy’s jaw dropped, and he was dumbstruck. The other rift wardens looked at each other nervously, unsure of what to do. Others in the market had stopped their activities, instead watching with bated breath.

  “If you don’t mind,” Tristan began walking to the Demon Realm portal, and none stopped him. He pulled the man who was more torso than person, and tossed him through the portal as the two rift wardens maintaining the portal just looked at him, shock writ across their faces. “And now he’s back home,” Tristan said as he turned.

  A familiar man approached through the crowd. The Headmaster, Markus Vrilz, accompanied by swirling elementals. “Lord Tristan! A word!” he shouted in Standard Tongue.

  Tristan stepped off the dais and dropped his illusory form. He began pushing essence toward his Citadel Student Pin, ready to teleport to the infirmary if necessary. “Yes?”

  “You . . .” He looked Tristan up and down. “Ah, no Citadel Pin.”

  It’s in my amulet belt, but yeah, I’m not actively looking like a student. Tristan crossed his arms. “I was accosted by assassins, and slew them. I just returned one back home.” He glanced at the Demon Realm portal. “Hopefully he gets a warm reception.”

  “To my office.” The man vanished, along with all of the swirling wind elementals.

  Tristan poked Felicity. “Go ahead, use your pin. I’ll meet you there.”

  “Got it!” She vanished with a pop.

  He activated his pin and appeared in front of the Headmaster’s office. The door was open, and he went inside to find the man standing before his desk. Felicity shifted to her Elfanoid form and stood just behind and to Tristan’s side.

  Markus rubbed his temples. “This is going to be such a diplomatic incident.”

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  “The Demon King would have to admit he sent assassins through your inter-realm marketplace. I doubt he would do so and risk losing access that you provide.”

  “That’s not the point. I have to take some type of action against you, or else I will be sending a message that anyone can carry corpses through the inter-realm market.”

  Felicity raised her hand. “People bring corpses of species already. I saw a whole roasted pig!”

  “That’s . . . maybe I should put it differently,” Markus muttered. “What I meant is that people will think it is okay to use the inter-realm marketplace and our rift network as a means to just traipse from realm to realm and commit violence against one another. Lord Tristan, you put me in one difficult position.” He crossed his arms. “It will take quite a bit of political maneuvering on my part to keep the Citadel’s hands clean, metaphorically. I can only see two options. A public denouncement and you being banned, or you make it worth my while to overlook this incident.”

  “Let me guess; daily access to the Fey Realm?”

  “You guessed correctly.”

  I can make a power play here. Tristan frowned. “I disagree.” The Headmaster’s eyes narrowed in consternation, and Tristan continued. “There are other options. Perhaps you should publicly announce that Lord Tristan Dragonbloom is a student of the Citadel of Essence, and Demon King Duberceix assaulted a student through the hands of others.”

  “You are a Winterbloom though.”

  “I fused my bloodlines by slaughtering thousands of husks in a Lost Realm.” At this, Markus’ eyes went wide, but Tristan continued unabated. “Regardless, your decision would serve several functions. First, it gives you all the justification to temporarily cease contact with the Demon Realm until a new Realm Protector is chosen. You know as well as I based on Eloise’s reports that the Demon King planned to usurp the rule of many realms and kingdoms across the Mortal Realm. When a Demon King or Queen comes to power that is more amicable to peaceful relations and schemes less, then you can re-open access. And, it sends a message – you allow your students to defend themselves if unjustly attacked.”

  Markus’ mouth went tight. “That . . . is not a bad idea at all.” He chuckled, then laughed aloud. “Pardon the insult, but you are a fucking plotter, you realize that, yes?”

  “He gets it from the Fey Realm,” Felicity replied.

  Markus stood up straight and then went behind his desk. “I know your intentions toward The Citadel are pure, and I have seen firsthand what you are trying to do in the Fey Realm. After speaking with the residents there at length . . . I believe declaring that the ruler of the Fey Realm is a member of The Citadel, and denouncing the Demon King’s actions with this mountain of evidence you and Eloise have provided—”

  The door behind Tristan slammed open and he instinctively wheeled around and drew his dagger in one smooth motion. But, he quickly sheathed it upon seeing Eloise in the doorway. “Ah, welcome.”

  She looked at him, then Felicity, and finally to Markus. “I just heard what happened.”

  Markus waved, “Yes, yes. I’ll fill you in on the details later.”

  Eloise looked at Tristan. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine,” he replied.

  Felicity grinned. “Better than fine. He’s Tristan Dragonbloom now – fused his bloodlines.”

  Eloise’s eyes went wide. “Well . . . okay then. Why are you back here? We aren’t ready to assault Duberceix yet – I haven’t received word from Thallia.”

  “I went on a little side trip,” Tristan said. “Come back to the Fey Realm with me tonight and I will fill you in.”

  Eloise looked at Markus. “I’m still on sabbatical.”

  “You are. For another two seasons.” He glanced at a paper on his desk. “You return on the first of Thawing Season, next year. Plenty of time.”

  Eloise nodded to Tristan. “Okay. I’ll head back with you.”

  Markus spoke once more. “Lord Dragonbloom, I will make the public announcement and send word to the Demon King before we shut the Demon Realm portal.”

  “Thank you. I need to visit The Archive before I return.” He looked at Eloise and Felicity. “If both of you help me, we can make this go really fast.”

  “Okay,” Eloise said.

  “Of course!” Felicity said as she grabbed Tristan’s gauntleted hand.

  Tristan pushed essence into his Citadel Pin and teleported to The Archives. He quickly left the small, stone circle for arriving students and headed to Betty at the center desk. “Hey, Betty!” he said as he waved at her.

  She turned one of her many eyes to look at him, a tendril reached out, grabbed paper, and began scribbling as he approached an empty spot in one of the lines. Lord Tristan. How can I help you? And why are you covered in blood?

  “Killing dragons,” he replied. “I need to know where I can find the following spell type tomes; hexes, realmwalking, teleportation, divination, binding, communication.”

  She scribbled furiously, and another eye went to look at him. What are you playing at? I can’t check out that many books, even to independent study participants.

  “I am not getting them checked out. I’ll put them in my Omnitome.”

  This is an unusual request.

  “Ask your father, Logos. He knows my intentions are pure and altruistic.”

  Recently spoke with him through divination?

  “Astrologer’s Glass, actually. He and the Realm Protector of the Fey Realm have an emotional relationship.”

  Betty’s eyes narrowed, then widened, and a third eye came over to join the other two already looking at him. Interesting. You do not have that many spell types yourself, do you?

  “No. New species in my realm do. And new Heritages from a grafted realm.”

  Ah. Well, I will need an override from an advisor.

  Tristan glanced back at Eloise and Felicity, who were both quietly talking a few feet behind him. “Eloise, I need you to allow Betty to check out a ton of books for me. I won’t take them out of The Archive.”

  Eloise walked forward. “Yes . . . yes . . . I think we can use the master reference . . . I understand.” She turned to face Tristan. “We’re going to save time.”

  Betty’s tendril reached under the desk and pulled out an Omnitome. She scribbled on the parchment for her conversation with Tristan. Touch your Omnitome to this one. It will copy over every spell from one to the other. This is my master reference. It has every single spell book that comes into our possession stored within.

  “Then you will get the dragonbane spells.”

  None can use those except your Dragonslayer and this new Dragonbloom bloodline. What matter is it that they are known by others.

  “I suppose that is fair,” Tristan replied. He spun his crucible, pushed essence into his amulet holding Pocket Dimension II, and grabbed his Omnitome, placing it on top of Betty’s. “How long does this take?”

  “A few minutes,” Eloise said. She leaned against the desk. “Yes, Betty, I know I owe you dinner.”

  “What does she even eat?” Felicity asked as she walked up.

  I can eat anything, Betty replied, Tristan assumed both in Felicity’s mind, and on paper for the purposes of his understanding.

  Tristan reached into his still-open pocket dimension and withdrew a few vials of clearcool elixir. “Maybe these will be tasty.”

  A tendril whipped out and snatched the vials before sucking back into the central body. Oh, that is tasty. And so filling. Thanks for the snack. She pulled his Omnitome off of hers. It is done.

  “Thank you,” Tristan said as he put it back into his pocket dimension. “Ready to head out?” he asked Eloise and Felicity.

  “Yup!” Felicity replied.

  “From the inter-realm market?” Eloise asked.

  “Yes.” Tristan pushed essence into his student pin and reappeared in the inter-realm market. He waited for his two companions to arrive, and then walked through the places, eyes staring at him as he strode along, still covered in now-dried blood. They reached where the rifts were, and Tristan stepped to the farthest edge of the market area. His allies next to him, he activated his ring, and the group teleported to the Fey Realm.