Patricia stood. Well, she sat. Actually, she lounged.
To be completely accurate, she was reclined with the hope not to faint. That wasn't going swimmingly at the moment, much contrasted by her own vision, which found swimming an excellent pastime.
Clara squeezed Petra's hand, and said, "Do we really need to do this now?"
They were in a small chamber, just close enough to the battleground that one of the walls was cracked. It was an "audience chamber" which meant lots of plants and couches and tables. In Petra's experience, this was a sign of being in favor with the ruler. "Waiting Rooms" tended to have stiff, uncomfortable chairs and a clock that ticked just wrong.
"You are my guests," The Duchess said, "I would love nothing better than to escort you to your prepared rooms and bid you a good night. But I must get some things straight first, and you two are essential."
"It's…fine," Petra said, weakly, "But, Madam, we ourselves know nothing of the evening besides what you were there to witness. Why are we here?"
The Duchess raised two fingers and said, "First: this is the second such attack which you have experienced. That is indispensable."
The door burst open and Grog stomped through, filthy and wafting a foul stench. In one hand, he was carrying Jasson. Petra scanned her friend quickly. No injuries, just filthy and lethargic.
"Second is for this boy." The Duchess said, "He is not feeling well. You are his friends. Place him there, Grog."
Grog nodded to the Duchess and plopped Jasson down with a splat onto a fine couch. The embroidered roses didn't seem happy about the situation.
Grog said, "Is there anything else that you would have of me, milady?"
The Duchess nodded, "Go and gather the pivotal people of the evening. The heroes of the hour. As many as you can find. I'll have the clerks write invitations. We shall host them in the castle. And let them know that there shall be a feast tomorrow. That should sate my bemoaning brother-in-law."
Grog nodded and said, "Of course, Madam."
Grog left, and Petra turned her attention to Jasson. He was looking down, but managed to meet Petra's eyes for a split second. Petra reeled, empty numbness running along her veins of empathy. She looked away.
His eyes were…there. Yes, there was a level of shock making it worse, but they didn't light up like they used to. They looked like his eyes when they first met. That night when Clara had brought him to the restaurant. Except worse.
"Jasson," Petra struggled up and tried to lean on Clara, but Clara nudged her back down and hurried to Jasson. Petra hovered, but a wave of nausea forced her flat. There was some relief for that.
She didn't like how Jasson made her feel at the moment. It was a cruel thing, but sickening exhaustion makes people honest. He was a cankerous void on her soul, and far too close to that coldness she fought so hard.
"He is fine, physically," Duchess Primrose said, "But he could use some…rest. Among friends. It pleased me to have you here with him. His testimony is the primary witness. When the city fell to chaos, he ran to the middle of the storm. There may be more that he can tell us, but he is not in a state for it."
Clara knelt beside the couch and awkwardly squeezed his shoulders, dragon blood mixing freely with the crust of his clothes. He leaned into the touch, but didn't look up.
"Maybe a bath first," Clara said, "For all of us. Not at the same time, of course."
"And a Light mage," Petra said, motioning to his black magical device, "He could use a few…funny videos."
Petra frowned. She'd lashed out at Jasson for wasting time on such frivolous things before. Why now did she feel that they were…necessary?
"Of course," Duchess Primrose said, "If he remains unresponsive, I can have some man servants wash him down."
It took a few seconds before Jasson looked up sharply and said, "No. I can wash myself."
Petra relaxed and Clara smiled.
"Good to see some life out of you," Clara gave him a hug, "Now let's go get cleaned up."
****
Scott was not just a mage. He was a hunter, although that seemed less…awesome now. He'd left home to hunt abroad when the monsters of the mountain no longer held anything worth trying. It had seemed so important back then. One element of hunting was the ability to not be sensed. A life-saving skill that had let him slip away or slip behind the mightiest of monsters.
This didn't seem to work on the Duchess Primrose.
Three messengers had inexplicably found his hiding place. He hadn't even gotten to see Harriett yet, and yet her mother was already trying to get at him. This had driven Scott to…unusual measures. Scott had found a balcony with a view of the city, then decided that this wasn't nearly hidden enough. Scott summoned planks of wood and made himself a climbing path. One step off the balcony and he felt…something. It was subtle but…
Magic circles?
Scott built a platform up, and found magic circles again, just above the balcony. So many! And nearly undetectable as well. He was stuck.
Scott built a little house, hanging from the balcony. There were circles here as well, but Scott found a bare spot and latched his little hut against the wall. Just three walls to block the wind. He was too tired for much more.
Scott leaned against the castle wall and sighed.
Then the wall spoke, saying, "I must speak with you."
"Aah!" Scott pushed away from the wall and flailed, "Don't do that!"
"I had to speak with you," The Duchess said, "Speaking this way is not becoming to me, but you have been avoiding my messengers."
Scott looked closer at the wall and noticed thin, hairlike roots covering the wall. Covering all of the walls.
Scott asked, "Can you sense everything?"
"No," The Duchess said, "Only sounds. Now, please attend me. It is rude to turn down a Duchess."
"I don't know," Scott said, "I'll be fine if I jump from here."
"What could possibly drive you to do so?" The Duchess said, "You're a hero of the hour. I just need to speak with you."
Scott paused, then said, "Look, ma'am. I have my reasons. I would appreciate it if you-"
"Harriett will also be in attendance," The Duchess said, "Does that make you more likely to be there yourself?"
Scott paused, then said, "It may."
The bricks managed to look smug as the Duchess said, "I will inform the butler to prepare another place for her. Doubtless, she will wish to make an entrance. In the meantime, I will have a servant guide you to me."
Scott nodded and remained perched on his tiny, homemade hut. Harriett, eh? Finally. It had been weeks…
After a few minutes, the roots spoke again, "Would you mind stepping inside? The servant is afraid of heights and cannot climb a sheer wall."
"Oh," Scott willed a ladder into existence, "Sorry about that."
****
There are many things that cannot be healed with a burst of healing magic. For those, Doctor Alcazar was a master of solutions. And, apparently, today, he was lucky.
Grog had dropped off a particularly rare case. Not that Doctor Alcazar had never heard of it, but rather it was that he had never seen a specimen intact.
"The soul inside must be of the sturdy kind," Doctor Alcazar said as he analyzed his patient, "I think that it will be good news this time."
Doctor Alcazar sighed, then said, "Nurse, put him in the storage closet. Wrap him with a few layers to keep him safe and protected."
Doctor Alcazar looked at the petrified form of Dockson and said, "No need to leave air holes."