“Same butterfly you’ve been talking to,” Adon replied, grinning, completely unperturbed by Frederick’s aggressive stance.

  I can’t believe that came out so confidently!

  In his own mind, he pumped his fist—though his body remained still aside from some slight trembling under the strain of holding everything together and perfectly controlling every cell.

  “Right, I remember my brother had asked before if you, um, noble creature could shapeshift,” Frederick said, swallowing hard. He still looked tense, but his hand had moved off of his sword hilt. “I suppose we know the answer now.”

  Adon nodded. I suppose we do, he thought.

  “I was just coming over to tell the two of you—” Frederick looked down at where Goldie stood, exhausted, and he smiled at her. Adon felt genuine affection from him, which was nice to observe. He would prefer not to have to tell her that whatever connection she and Frederick had formed was anything less than real. “We are starting the fires now. Everyone is preparing to eat and sleep. You will want to be downwind from the smoke.” He looked back up at Adon, who was slightly taller than Frederick in his humanoid form. “Unless you have some form that does not need to breathe or does not mind a faceful of smoke.”

  The butterfly resisted the urge to laugh. He could feel that might actually destabilize him a bit. This body was funny in that way. It required constant focus to maintain, but to a lesser degree than what he had needed before, and he could tell now when there was some danger of it cutting out on him.

  Thank you for that, Frederick, Adon sent, reverting back to Telepathy. He looked down at Goldie where she remained unmoving, in the same position as before, on the ground.

  Adon sent a message for her ears only: Are you ready to go back to the others, or do you want to stay here for a bit longer?

  I am ready, but I will need you or Frederick to carry me, Goldie replied.

  My energy is running low, too, actually, Adon thought, though he still felt he had a minute or two before he would be forced back to butterfly mode—which, in practice, meant quite a lot of energy remaining.

  “I am returning to my usual form,” he said aloud, looking back at Frederick again. “I hope you enjoyed meeting semi-humanoid Adon.”

  He released his control, and instantly everything snapped back to its usual place.

  Frederick just gaped for a moment, then shook his head a little and spoke.

  “I did,” Frederick said in a respectful tone. “Believe it or not, I think it is good, in our modern, cynical times to occasionally be reminded that wonders exist.”

  A part of Adon wanted to laugh at the description of the times in which they existed as “modern,” but he felt the sincerity in the thought waves emanating from Frederick, and he did not want to mock Frederick in any way at that moment.

  Thank you, Adon sent simply. I will take your words as a high compliment.

  Frederick simply nodded his head in acknowledgement, then lowered himself to beside where Goldie was, placing his hand on the ground right next to her.

  “Do you want to climb back onto my shoulder, Goldie?” he asked.

  I need help, Goldie admitted. Adon could hear the faint embarrassment in her tone. She tried to inject some slight self-deprecating humor as she continued, I have used up most of my strength experimenting with Transformation, and now I cannot get up!

  I think my social skills are getting a lot better, but Goldie makes interacting with the others look like child’s play, he thought. And she had no human interactions in this life until after she met me. Guess I still have some work to do!

  Normally, he might have let the thought get him down, but not just now. Adon felt too pleased with his general success. He was doing well enough at socializing with Frederick, despite their lack of deep rapport, his Transformation had been perfect and held until Adon willingly released it, and he was also pleased that Goldie had succeeded at changing shape.

  Frederick gently cupped Goldie’s body and raised her up to his shoulder. She was still able to move a bit, Adon saw, because she adjusted her legs’ positions to keep her in place on Frederick’s shoulder once she was placed there.

  Then the three returned to the group.

  As they approached, Adon saw the orange glow of three flames being kindled. The fires were surprisingly small, however, and when the trio drew closer, Adon saw why.

  How can they even light fires like that?

  The squad was using small clumps of kindling—bits of dried grass and twigs they had clearly brought from outside, along with some gently glowing moss that some far-sighted knights had swiped in the earlier tunnel leading up to level two. But there was nothing more substantial for any of them to burn. The group had not been able to carry piles of wood with them into the dungeon, after all, and the dungeon itself had not provided any lumber thus far.

  They had to group together just to sustain the three small fires that they had lit, and from what Adon could tell, they appeared to be pouring affinity-less mana into the twigs, moss, and other kindling in an effort to strengthen it—to make it burn more slowly.

  There is hardly any smoke, Adon sent to Frederick and Goldie. It doesn’t seem like something we really needed to worry about, staying back there.

  A few wisps drifted up and overhead, but Adon thought they would have been easily avoidable.

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  Frederick raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I had not realized how difficult of a time the knights would have just making a fire in here. At this rate, we will have to eat the rations instead of the meat that just dropped into our laps.”

  As the three observed, the knights had moved their fires closer together—they were mobile, since the kindling was just small odds and ends that could be easily moved without extinguishing the fire—and began slowly rotating what appeared to be two strix drumsticks over them.

  That will take forever, Adon thought. If the meat even cooks at all.

  “It is a shame,” Frederick added. “If Rosslyn were not unconscious, we would ask her to use her fire magic. My brother and I have a different affinity, and naturally, it is useful, but the absence of fire magic means that there is no way of producing a stable, substantial flame that might be used to cook the meat.”

  He gave the butterfly a meaningful look.

  Adon read Frederick’s mind and quickly confirmed that the overt hint was just that.

  So that was the real reason he wanted me to come back? So I could help cook the evening meal? Adon thought. He quickly shared it with Goldie.

  It seems like a good opportunity for you to develop the relationship and reputation that you have been building, she sent back instantly. The Kingdom loves you. The knights already respect you for your contributions to level two. You can make the knights even happier by helping them eat. That has always been the best way to my heart.

  But why would Frederick want to give me that opportunity? Adon replied. He had read the young lord’s mind enough to know that Frederick was thinking about the fact that Adon could use fire magic and had intentionally brought him over here to help the knights. The reason why Frederick had done this was less apparent.

  You are trying to imagine a scheme he might be playing, Adon? Goldie sent. I told you, you may not agree, but I do not think he is like that. I do not think he is necessarily trying to help you, but it is only natural that Frederick would want to look after his own people. Most of the knights in the dungeon are Dessian.

  That’s true, Adon acknowledged.

  Then he opened his communications to include Frederick as well.

  I think I can help the knights cook their food, Adon transmitted. Is it all right with you if I approach them and offer my services?

  “Why would I have any objection, Adon?” Frederick asked. And then he actually winked.

  I don’t know what’s going on right now, and I don’t like that, Adon thought. The one brother seems to loathe me, and the other one is acting like he wants to be friends or something—or at least like he doesn’t hate me. And he’s giving me this opportunity…

  Adon forced himself to stop thinking about it and flew over to the knights instead. He quickly explained what he could do to help them, and the relief he felt as they heard his telepathic message was palpable.

  The butterfly was very glad he had not pushed his Transformation to the point of failure. He had plenty of mana to go around. The pitiful miniature fires were quickly pushed together in a clump and almost abandoned, tended by only one knight who kept them going—to keep the group warm, they said, although Adon read the shared subtext in their minds.

  The knights were worried that Adon would run out of mana. Such a tiny creature could not have much more power inside of him than he had already shown on the second level of the dungeon.

  The amount of mana that a monster possessed was often correlated with size, and indeed, Adon believed that the Mystic Iron Bear had controlled a larger pool of mana than he himself owned. However, Adon was no monster. He was a mystic beast. He was not spawned by a dungeon with a significant amount of power and a constrained environment. Rather, he had been born weak and exploded exponentially in power, repeatedly transcending what seemed to be his own limits.

  Adon gladly showed them the difference.

  He circulated mana around his body, vibrated it at the right speed to ignite it, and then cooked every bit of meat the knights presented him with until they could cut into it with a knife and get clear juices instead of blood. Strix meat, it seemed, was not much different from chicken.

  The cook took half an hour. Adon’s fire was efficient, his will clearer and more powerful in controlling and directing the flames than it had ever been before. He was careful not to waste energy, and he was pleased to observe that his watchful resource husbandry was not lost on the knights. They could tell that he was choosing to deliberately limit his power output in order to sustain it for longer, and the telepathic consensus was that they were impressed. Apparently, a common issue among mages of many kinds was an inability to properly gauge how much magic was necessary to resolve a given situation. Adon, who could watch his mana numbers in real time when and if he chose to, and who had trained his magic consistently over his short life, always had an idea of how much power he was using and how much gas remained in the tank.

  Adon finished cooking for everyone, and then he sensed Frederick coming back over to where the butterfly and the knights were gathered. The young lords had come over in the middle of the process, not waiting their turn exactly but not rushing to the front of the line either.

  But now Frederick seemed to have something different in mind.

  William sent him over here this time, Adon thought.

  Goldie was not with Frederick either. Adon saw that she was back with Samson and William. Samson was eating some strix meat, and William was staring over at Adon expressionlessly. The emotional waves coming off of Frederick were serious.

  “Adon, would you be willing to come with me for a little while?” Frederick asked lightly once he was close. “I assume you are done cooking?”

  I am, Adon replied, and I would be happy to go with you.

  He already knew what Frederick and William wanted with him, so he did not need to ask any further questions. The idea in Frederick’s mind—William’s idea, as expressed to Frederick—was that Adon should join the young lords and form a sort of council of war.

  They would plan out the attack on the next floor now, though provisionally, since Rosslyn was still out of commission. The surprising thing to Adon was that Frederick genuinely believed Adon was the right person to replace Rosslyn as a sort of de facto leader for the Claustrian troops—assuming, of course, that the Princess remained unavailable for some time longer.

  Frederick extended his hand, and Adon fluttered over to perch on top of it. He was tired from all of the mana use that day, but there was no chance he would turn down the opportunity to participate in shaping their attack strategy. It might save lives if he could get the brothers to agree to let him scout again, and Adon had also very consciously chosen a path in this life where he would embrace social opportunities where he found them.

  Joining a council of war was almost a no-brainer.

  As Frederick reached his brother and the arthropods, Adon flitted from the back of his hand and landed beside the spiders. As if by signal, William launched into what Adon telepathically sensed was a pre-planned monologue.

  “Thank you for joining us, Adon,” the young lord began. “I know I blew up at you a little bit earlier, in a moment of high tension. I do… apologize for that.”

  Adon carefully watched William’s expressions as he continued. Immaculate Memory was a literally perfect recall of anything that Adon had experienced, but old habits died hard. Some part of him was determined, despite the lack of any need, to deliberately memorize the exquisite discomfort apparent on William’s face, as the young lord spoke words that he clearly did not want to say and that he did not entirely mean.