Excuse me, good sir, have you seen a golden dragon? (Crimson please)

[Darkthael Morgreed]

Morning of Carmelyana, Fourth Brightening of the First Cycle of Pontius
in the Season of Winter, Era I of the Celestine Mandate,
Era XV Post Fractum.

The day after securing accommodations in Jaedaxia, Darkthael begun the search for the rumors of the golden dragon. The very same rumors that he had heard about in Trysvale and that had lead him to Jaedaxia in the first place.

He walked idly among the city streets in the disguise of his elven seeming, Daelen. He pondered for a while who to ask. Surely he could fish information about that in some tavern. But he didn't want to inquire at La Petite Morte, as he was already staying there and preferred not be known as the strange elf that asked weird questions about dragons. He could probably also ask some of the merchants of the city, their class being only second to the barkeepers in the amount of rumors their ears often picked. Yet he was unsure who or how to ask.

As he considered his options, he walked, examining the different business and sections of the city. It was a strange place to him, and he was looking for something stranger even. For a few candlemarks the main question in his mind was "Where should I start asking?"

[Heartbreaker]

Golden Dragons had been sacred things in Jaedaxia for a very long time. There were many schools of thought on the matter. Some were more scholarly then others. Some fantasy…some pure rumor…but who knew how much truth was rolled into any of those theories.

So where would one go to ask questions of people that –might- have a few of the answers he was looking for?

His wanderings took him past the Collegio of Aethereal Studies, which he had heard boasted one of the larger libraries in the city. If one was looking for knowledge, what better place then a library? It was full of books and usually people that enjoyed acquiring knowledge…but then again, did he have time to waste on what might be a fruitless avenue of investigation?

[Darkthael Morgreed]

Neither the dracon nor his seeming were in any big hurry and both could afford the time an academic search would imply, especially at the benefit of a little added discreteness. So when Daelen found himself stumbling with the Collegio of Aethereal Studies, the inner-dracon could barely contain a expression of annoyance for not thinking before of the library. If there was any truth to the rumors, then surely there would be a record of them or at least a hint to the matter preserved in writing.

If he was allowed, he would enter the three golden blocks that comprised the building of the Collegio and once inside inquire about the library - "Serale, m'lady" - He would greet the elf woman, he himself still unfamiliar with the jaedexine manner of greeting - "I would like to know if use of your library is open to the public for consulting. If it is so, I would like to know where in it can I get some detailed information about your city's recent history."

He was far to cautious to ask about dragons directly, but if the rumors he had heard where true and as recent as they sounded, then without doubt he would be able to find some lead for his investigations among detailed chronicles of the last few eras of the city. If he couldn't, then he would think about broadening the search.

[Heartbreaker]

If there was one thing Jaedaxians were good at, it was keeping records. Most thought of the city as just a place for the performing arts…but to the citizens of the bright and vibrant city, journaling was just as much an art as anything else. The elf simply glanced his direction and considered his request for information.

“There is a small area just to the right…in the back. That is where current accounts of history are kept…but if I were you, I would simply go to the source. Many of the authors of those books roam the stacks here on a regular basis. In fact, one of the most popular…Monsieur LeClair, is in the building right now. He is a local storyteller…but he’s become quite the author.”

Gazing around, her hand lifted and pointed to a middle-aged gentleman sitting at a nearby table, writing notes down from a book on a piece of parchment.

“ Right there. I’m sure he could answer any questions you might have…and if not…he knows where to get them.”

[Darkthael Morgreed]

Daelen thanked the elven girl and excused himself with a short bow of the head. The inner-dracon thought about the matter for a split of a second, and decided that not accepting the girl's advice would seem more suspicious than doing so. So he begun walking towards the storyteller.

Respectfully, the fake elf would approach the man and wait for him to see him, before speaking - "Serale sir, sorry to bother you. Are you monsieur... LeClair? Correct?. I have heard that you are an authority on local history and folklore. Is that right? If so, could I please have a few moments of your time?"

If the old man said no, then back to the books it was. But if he happened to say yes, the task would be how best to ask about the dragon's matter in a natural manner that would not arise too many questions.

[Crimson]

The middle aged man Darkthael was directed toward sat on a lonely table near the edge of some pillar-high stacks of dusty tomes. He had the entire table to himself, it seemed, and he was rather close to walling himself in with the same stack of books he seemed to be scouring through. His beady eyes darted from one line of text to another, and only the occasional flick of dry parchment echoed from his position. That cloudy winter brightening had not invited many persons to the solace of the Collegio; most Jaedaxians preferred to pass those depressing moments with merrymaking and other entertainment so easily found in the city's quarters.

At the fake elf lord's greeting, Monsieur LeClair glanced up from his article, a heavy tome with a worn, off-green cover with microscopic lettering and nodded. "Oui"he said in the local dialect. Then, noting that the stranger was probably a traveler of sorts he transitioned to a heavily accented version of Charismean: "What iz it zat I can 'elp you with, monsieur elf?" His voice was thick but soothing, the kind that lulled students to sleep on warm summer afternoons in schola. He may have been a scholar of some renown now but bits of his kind demeanor hinted at a prior job as an educator. He extended his flabby arm and took the undercover dracon's in his own. "Well met" he nodded "you zeek information on ze local histoire, non? Any zubjects in general, hmm?"

[Darkthael Morgreed]

The inner-dracon tuned in to the man's behavior and quickly resolved an adequate course of action. This person knew the role of a teacher well, so what better than to play the role of an eager student.

Daelen smiled and shook the scholar's hand in a friendly yet respectful manner. - "Well, you see sir, it's perhaps a bit childish of me to ask." - Started the elf, feigning doubt and smiling slightly - "I have always been marveled by tales of dragons, and I hear this very city has actual history of seeing such beings, perhaps even recently. Do you know anything about the matter, Monsieur LeClair?"

That seemed like a good way to ask, expressing curiosity was perhaps a good way to gain this man's trust, perhaps it wasn't. But in any case didn't make himself seem as interested in dragons for practical motives, just curious about them. In any event, the paranoid dracon in disguise carefully monitored his host's reaction to the question. All while showing only the face of curiosity of the elven seeming.

[Crimson]

The Educator squinted, his beady eyes narrowing for only a moment. "Ze dragon, eh?" he grinned, his toad-like face showing a hint of pleasure despite the obvious un-academic-ness of the stranger's query. "Zat izz a very inter-ezzting subject." He nodded thoughtfully. "Jaedaxia is not known for its rich gossip if zerr was not some truth in the matter, non?" He chuckled, then coughed. "But I digress, heh."

"Ze dragon you speak of has a name, monsieur" he began "zee most powerful name, a famous name. Very few will ever know a dragon's true name, of course" he nodded again "but hizz followers, worshippers even, gave the dragon his common name ... Borthanas." He looked excited know, a little too excited perhaps. But the fake elf lord could only wait, even as the Author paused, to prevent any unnecessary interuptions.

"Oui, he wazz a god to many" LeClair continued "and to some, he wazz greater zenn zee gods themselves. He wazz Jaedaxia's savior, king, and guardian. Zee dragon lord, zee Ageless One. At least, zat waz zee way for zee Borthanists." Once more the storyteller paused, though this time he seemed to study the fake elf for a moment longer. His brow furrowed then and he tilted his head curiously to the side.

"Pardonez-moi, monsieur" LeClair said suddenly. He leaned forward and with a hushed whisper he added, "you are not an elf, aren't you?" And he grinned.

[Darkthael Morgreed]

Darkthael made sure to remember the name of the golden dragon, Borthanas, and dutifully absorbed all of LeClair's speech on the subject. 'A god to many? worshiped?' - this was certainly turning out to be even more interesting than the dracon in disguise had expected.

"Jaedaxia's savior, monsieur?" - Asked Daelen casually, trying to inquire a bit further into the meaning of the man's words - "And from what did the Gift of the Empire require saving?"

Then like a thunder, the question hit him. This man somehow chose to ask the question Darkthael dreaded the most, and in such a casual tone that the inner-dracon was immediately torn between fear, curiosity and anger.

The elf's fake face smiled uncompromisingly, and answered playfully with another question - "Am I not, monsieur? What makes you say such a thing? Am I perhaps a Dwarf or Mousai, and no one has ever had the heart to tell me so?" - He did so also in a very low voice, however.

Meanwhile, the inner-dracon searched the psychical plane with the call, trying to determine if this man was also not a man or if there were anymore scalekin in the premises. He also tried to remember exactly how many people were in the library at the moment, and look around to confirm that number, if he could do so without arising suspicions. The short sword by his belt became a little heavier all of a sudden.