Chapter Text
Sun peeked through the clouds, grass rustled in the wind. Nakiwaan Downs were beautiful this time of year, early spring flowers covering the hills as far as the eye could see. All daffodils, primroses and snowdrops. Some bellflowers, even.
These caught Qifrey’s attention the most, and he crouched down to pluck the delicate flower from its stem. He caressed the violet petals with his thumb. It reminded him of something. The shade was almost a perfect match to Olly’s eyes, he realized.
As if on cue, his best friend appeared beside him, crouching to meet his gaze. Olly smiled at him, warm and bright like the sun itself. Qifrey could feel his heart pounding against his ribs.
The tree writhed inside his skull.
Qifrey jolted awake with a gasp. His hand instinctively flew to press against the scar, fingers digging into the tender flesh around it until it hurt enough to make him squirm and the roots recoiled.
He curled his knees up and leaned forward, head dropping between his legs as he willed his heart to stop racing.
He was not in Naakiwan Downs, but rather in his room in Beldaruit’s atelier. It was still dark outside, and the atelier was quiet. His master was surely asleep in his bedroom down the hall. Qifrey bit down on his lips, swallowing a pathetic noise that threatened to escape him.
He was so, so exhausted.
The Silverwood had become his greatest tormentor ever since it re-awakened after he attempted Tower of Tomes. Well, no – reawakened was a wrong term, actually. It was always within him, but before the tower he could ignore the occasional, uncomfortable feeling that crawled under his skin whenever he felt too at ease.
He didn’t know what it was back then, and his ever-present discomfort regarding lack of past made it harder for the tree to sprout.
Now that he knew of it, the parasite had become aggressive. It wasn’t sentient, but it could as well be, with how well-tuned it became to even the slightest slivers of comfort available. It didn’t want to die, and it refused to go dormant again. Or maybe it was Qifrey who made it impossible for it to retreat fully, with how much warmth and peace he’d managed to find for himself despite his best efforts to keep himself miserable.
At first, it was enough to stress about keeping Beldaruit in the dark. Then his master let it go, and the relief he’d felt after knowing he’d gotten away with his lies was enough for roots to come back. So, he took on self-harm instead. It did the job, keeping the parasite at bay at least when it came to Beldaruit.
Beldaruit, however, was no Olruggio. And Olruggio became synonymous with comfort in his head. And apparently, even the ever-constant anxiety of remembering their secret, and the terrible guilt he felt about it was not enough to keep the tree at bay.
Qifrey could keep his best friend at a hand’s length all he wanted, and still all it took for Silverwood to sprout was for Olly to confront him out of genuine care.
Qifrey had erased Olruggio’s memories twice since last year. That summed up to three times total since the promise.
Qifrey felt sick with himself.
───── ⟡ ─────
The next morning, Qifrey dragged himself to the kitchen with a migraine driving nails into his skull. He was too afraid of the tree taking over to even attempt falling asleep again, and the lack of sleep caught up to him quickly, like it always did.
He rubbed at his temple, squinting as he navigated through the cabinets and prepared himself thornbark tea strong enough to kill a lesser man. Beldaruit would judge him for it if he saw it. But Beldaruit wasn’t awake yet, so Qifrey could sip his awfully bitter drink without having to hear a single comment about it.
The headache was bad enough that he didn’t have to worry about his little problem for a few hours at least, so there was that.
He knew he had to do something. If he continued like that, he would die even before the curse ever took him out.
The problem was that Qifrey had to admit he was running out of ideas on how to keep himself afloat.
Self harm, whether it was by taking a blade to his skin or by all but waterboarding himself, only worked to an extent as an immediate countermeasure. He couldn’t go too far without Beldaruit or Olruggio noticing, and both of them already worried about him constantly, always looking at him as if they personally failed him.
More drawn-out methods worked a bit better, but he could only do so much without collapsing. He was barely eating these days, and apparently even sleep was about to become a feat. Last night proved that. Maybe he should welcome it, but the idea of losing yet another thing to Silverwood made him feel even more defeated than he already was.
───── ⟡ ─────
Thornbark tea did the job of keeping him awake, but it certainly worsened his headache as well.
Qifrey tried to focus on his research – he was supposed to pick a specialty within the next few months and submit his decision to the Wise in Teachings. In theory at least. There was no real deadline for deciding on a specialty and submitting it in order to set up a date of the fourth test, but Qifrey hoped to get his it approved before he turned sixteen. Prep for the test took two years on average, and while Beldaruit didn’t rush him, he wanted to take his fourth with Olly.
He wanted to graduate and get out of the Great Hall, as soon as possible.
Despite his best efforts his brain refused to cooperate. After another hour of trying to read, he had to admit he was going nowhere and he wouldn’t be getting any work done that way.
Qifrey left the papers and open books on his desk, with half a mind to put a paper press on the loose notes scattered all over. He needed a distraction, to clear his head. He swung by Beldaruit’s study on his way out.
“I’m going out with Olly,” he announced, sticking his head into the room briefly.
“Does Olruggio know he’s going out with you?” Beldaruit called back, throwing Qifrey a look over his shoulder.
“He’ll learn soon enough.”
Truth be told, he wasn’t even sure if Olly had time to hang out with him today. The weeks preceding the Sol Season festives were usually one of the busiest for him, outside of the Golden Eve and Silver Eve periods. Still, Qifrey figured that his friend could use a break every now and then, and knowing him, he wouldn’t get outside on his own unless Qifrey literally dragged him out.
Beldaruit chuckled. “Fair enough. Don’t stay out late.”
“No promises, master Bel.”
───── ⟡ ─────
Olly agreed to go out with him. He was suspiciously fast to drop his work, and it certainly had to do with how miserable Qifrey looked. He knew he had shadows under his eyes and his hands trembled with too much caffeine and too little sleep. He pretended not to see the obvious concern in Olruggio’s eyes. It was safer, this way.
He should know better than to ignore that look. Maybe at some point he’d finally learn.
They took the windowway out and then flew straight to the old shepherd’s hut in the Nakiwaan Downs. It was oddly reminiscent of his dream, and that should be his warning, but Qifrey elected to ignore it. It was peaceful, until it became too peaceful and then it wasn’t peaceful at all anymore.
Qifrey added a fourth line to the tally of his sins he kept in the back of his mind.
He kept Olruggio’s head in his lap until he woke up. He was not going to cry, he was not, he was not–
“Qifrey?” Olly stirred. His voice was rough with sleep and groggy.
Qifrey forced a smile onto his face. “Dozed off again, huh? I told you, you’re working yourself down to the bone, Olly,” he managed out. His throat felt full of sand.
“That doesn’t…” Olruggio furrowed his brows. “Oh, hey now, don’t look so sad. I’m fine, really,” he assured, his expression softening.
Qifrey remained brave for exactly three seconds. Then, he broke down in tears.
───── ⟡ ─────
By the time he passed the atelier’s doorstep, Qifrey was exhausted both by crying and by evading Olly’s questions.
He couldn’t possibly answer any of them without risking the tree again. Yes, it was rare for the roots to come back so soon after he’d used memory erasure spell, all the guilt he felt afterwards was enough to silence them for a few days at least, but Qifrey didn’t want to risk it anyway.
“See you tomorrow?” Olruggio offered in a tone that suggested he was willing to drop all his suspicions about Qifrey’s behavior, for the night at least.
“Maybe,” Qifrey said, offering him an apologetic smile. “If my head allows it.”
Earlier, Qifrey gave him an half-assed excuse, insisting he had just cried because of the migraine. He knew Olruggio didn’t buy it one bit.
He was not convinced either, Qifrey could tell by the look he gave him, but he didn’t press. Stars bless him.
───── ⟡ ─────
Guilt was gnawing at Qifrey’s stomach. He felt nauseous to the point that he ended up retching into the toilet, waving off Beldaruit’s attempts to console him.
Afterwards, he locked himself in his room.
This could not continue. He could not keep leading Olruggio on like this. For his own and Olruggio’s sake, he needed to do something.
At some point an idea came to him as he was tossing and turning in his bed. It was a desperate, pitiful idea, but he was in no state to consider how many ways it might go wrong. How much he’d hurt Olly doing so.
The most reasonable thing seemed to simply break it off.
───── ⟡ ─────
“I think I should let you be,” he told Olruggio. He kept his hands carefully on his sides, to stop himself from reaching out.
Qifrey came to Olruggio’s master’s atelier to tell him this, to end this friendship that doomed both of them to repeat the cycle. He spent the whole way here rehearsing what he’d say, and convincing himself that it was the way to go. All of his resolve left him by the time he knocked on the door, but it was too late to turn back now.
“What?” Qifrey watched Olruggio’s face contort from confusion to shock. “What do you mean?” he repeated.
“I should let you be. You are busy, and you are going to be a great witch regardless of who you keep around, and I’m just going to drag you down in the long run. We both know this, Olly.”
Olly scoffed. “We were supposed to be great witches together, so what are you on now?”
“It’s just not fair to you. You should know that.” Qifrey shot back. “I make you miserable, and make everything difficult, and you will have so many more opportunities without me. I need to let you go.”
It was the correct thing to do. To save them both suffering.
Olruggio didn’t move. Qifrey hoped he’d be angry with him, that he’d curse him out. Instead, he crossed his arms across his chest.
“You decided that. I don’t buy it. I don’t accept it.”
Qifrey clenched his hands into fists. They were trembling. “You are such a good friend to me, so patient despite all the trouble I put you through, and I can’t–“ he swallowed, his voice breaking.
“Can’t what?”
“I can’t let you keep doing that to yourself.”
Olruggio took a step towards him, Qifrey retreated a single pace in turn.
“Cut the bullshit, Qifrey,” Olruggio snapped, clearly taken aback. “You have no right to decide about what I want. It so happens that I like you, and I want to be your friend. So kindly fuck off.”
“You don’t understand. I will hurt you. I’ve already hurt you so much. You should stay away from me. You should hate me.”
“I hate the way you’re acting right now. What’s gotten into you? What’s with all that all of the sudden? Did I do something?” Olruggio’s tone had turned desperate.
“I’m fine.”
“Do you think I’m stupid? I have eyes, I can tell you’re hiding something,” Olruggio scoffed.
What? Did Olruggio figure it out already? Within a day? Was he that bad at keeping his mask on? Did he fuck up the spell last night? What did Olruggio mean?
“I should leave.” He could not do this today, not so soon, not again. He turned around, digging fingernails into the flesh of his palm hard enough to sting.
“What? No!” Olruggio caught his wrist before Qifrey could take another step. “Stop that. Stop it.”
“Don’t.” Qifrey tried to snatch his hand away, but Olruggio didn’t let go. “I keep ruining everything. I distract you. I’m bad for your reputation. People talk. I’m– it’s– You should just forget about me.”
Olruggio froze. “Should I? Is that what it is? Well I won’t. And I won’t let you.”
Now it was Qifrey’s turn to be confused. “What?” he asked, his voice smaller than he’d like.
“I told you I’m not stupid. I see things. You’ve been acting off for weeks.” His fingers tightened around Qifrey’s wrist. “The other day you burst into tears for no reason. You’re avoiding me. On and off, and even when we’re together, it’s like you’re not here half of the time. And now.” He gestured vaguely with his free hand. “This. Trying to get rid of me? With an excuse like this? That’s just insulting. To me and to yourself. You moron.”
He was rambling now, and Qifrey had no idea what he was getting at. It was just like all these times before, but the tree didn’t even stir as frustration itched under his skin. Why couldn't Olly just let it go?
“I am not talking to you anymore,” Qifrey said coolly. He wanted out. “I’ve made my decision.”
Olruggio stared at him.
“Fine. You can not talk to me on the way to your atelier, then. I’m walking you back.”
“I will go back on my ow–”
“I said what I said.” Olruggio cut him off. “I’m walking you.”
───── ⟡ ─────
The doors to the side entrance creaked. Then, they flew open and hit the wall with a loud thud. Beldaruit flinched at the noise, turning his head so fast that the motion sent a jolt of pain down his neck. It had to be Qifrey, because no house staff had so little respect for the atelier’s interior.
“Qifrey, I asked you countless times not to abuse the wall–” words died in his throat as he walked into the hall. “Olruggio. Hello,” he greeted the boy. He somehow looked even more exhausted than Beldaruit last recalled seeing him. Besides him, hand in hand, stood Qifrey.
Oh? Had he lived to see the day when his pupil finally stopped playing coy?
Olruggio promptly derailed that line of thought with a single sentence. “He wants to kill himself.”
Beldaruit never felt dread wash over him so suddenly. His eyes snapped to Qifrey’s sulken form.
“Qifrey?”
His apprentice scowled. “I do not–“
“He literally came to me to ‘say goodbye’,” Olruggio cut Qifrey off. “Had whole speech prepared and all. Said I’d be better off without him.”
Qifrey better off without Olruggio? Okay. That was the last thing he’d ever expect his pupil to say out loud. The fact that he did was not reassuring at all.
He knew about Qifrey’s worsening mental state, of course. He noticed how the boy started keeping to himself more and more ever since whatever had happened at the Tower of Tomes. It was hard not to notice. He’d been pushing Beldaruit away, and shut down every attempt at conversation about the changes in his behavior. He always had a tendency to let his problems boil until they blew up in his face, but Beldaruit hadn’t expected they could get that bad.
Or maybe he just didn’t want to even consider Qifrey being suicidal as a thing that could happen.
“Did you?” he turned to Qifrey.
“I did, but–“
“Alright, I heard enough,” Beldaruit stopped him with a raised hand. He was not interested in hearing his explanations in the corridor, with Olruggio still here. As much as he’d appreciated that he had brought Qifrey in, he didn’t want to question his apprentices’ motives in front of him. “Thank you, Olruggio. You may go now.”
Olruggio seemed reluctant to comply. He let go of Qifrey’s hand, but he hadn’t moved an inch.
“I can stay,” he said.
Stars, that boy. He had a heart of a faithful dog when it came to Qifrey, and it probably hurt him more often that not. Beldaruit could guess as much even without knowing the details.
“There’s no need,” he told him, his expression softening. “You did the right thing bringing him here, I’ll take it from there.”
Olruggio hesitated, throwing a glance at Qifrey. The white-haired boy still refused to meet his eye.
Olruggio’s shoulders dropped. “Goodnight, master Beldaruit,” he said with a slight bow.
Then he left, with the tassel (that Beldaruit was still not used to seeing) on his cap bobbing behind him.
───── ⟡ ─────
Beldaruit had herded him into his study.
Qifrey wasn't sure how to feel about this. Now that Olruggio was gone and his initial frustrations cooled off, he could admit to himself that what he did was a bit hysterical on his part. Certainly not well thought-through. Maybe he was a bit out of it recently, and he made some stupid decisions, but he could chalk it up to sleep deprivation. It certainly didn’t call for an intervention.
He just wanted to get it over with.
"I am not suicidal" he said as soon as he sat down, not even waiting for Beldaruit to start asking questions.
Well that wasn't exactly true. He knew that the recurring thoughts about letting the tree do its job could probably be classified as such, as well as his passive need to disappear, but it's wasn’t like he would actually try to kill himself. So, not suicidal.
Desperate, maybe, but definitely not suicidal.
“I see. And you went to bid farewell to your best friend because…?” Beldaruit was not convinced.
Qifrey cringed. When put that way, it certainly did sound bad.
“Yeah, I know it was stupid, I won’t do it again,” he muttered, “I’ll apologize to him.”
Beldaruit stared at him with disbelief. “I actually think you owe us both more than an apology. You scared poor Olruggio half to death, and truth be told, I fear for you as well.”
Qifrey shrugged. “I was just tired.”
“This does not explain anything. In fact, it makes it worse,” Beldaruit retorted. “How am I to trust you won’t threaten yourself next time you’re a bit more tired? It pains me to say this, Qifrey, but I don’t believe your words one bit.” He rested his chin on his palm, looking at Qifrey with a woeful expression. “You might not be actively considering ending your life yet, but you’re certainly not far from it.”
Qifrey wanted to laugh. If only Beldaruit knew that the primary thing threatening Qifrey’s life was not himself, but rather the seed inside him. Of course, he couldn’t know. And he never would, as long as Qifrey had anything to say about this, so he had to play it safe.
“I don’t know what you’re aiming at, master.”
“Don’t you? I thought you were an intelligent boy, but perhaps I shall aid your wit this time,” Beldaruit’s gaze was cold. “You’re not eating. You’re not sleeping. I’m fairly certain you self-harm, which might come of as shock to you, but one of us is paying attention to the world around him.” He counted off on his fingers. “And lastly, you’re lying to me. Have been for the past year, since you attempted Librarian’s Trial. I never pressed, but maybe I should have, because something changed back then and you’ve just been getting worse ever since.”
“It’s not your business what happened or what did not happen at the Tower of Tomes. It’s mine,” Qifrey hissed.
“Yours and Olruggio, isn’t it? Given the tassels,” Beldaruit held his ground. “You may play dumb all you want, boy, but don’t try to make an idiot out of me. I have no patience for this after the stunt you’ve pulled today.”
“Nothing happened.”
“Nothing happened yet.” Beldaruit emphasized. “Like it or not, I care for you. Olruggio does as well, although you seem to have little regard for our feelings on the matter.”
This conversation drove him crazy. They were running in circles. What did Beldaruit want him to say? It’s not like he could actually tell him the truth. Silverwood would have a field day if he did. The best he could offer was a rebound.
“Both of you worry too much. I’m fine.”
“I don’t want to hear it.” Beldaruit snapped. It was rare that he got so riled up to raise his voice, and Qifrey knew he had just crossed a line. “You’re not fine. And you cannot decide whether I should worry or not. I am not only your master, but also the only family you legally have. You don’t get to tell me how to feel about the very tangible possibility of my child killing themselves.”
Qifrey glared at him.
“Then what do you want from me?”
“I want you to talk to me.”
“No.” Qifrey said instantly.
Bedlaruit sighed. “Very well. In that case, I see no other option than to put preventive measures in place.”
That did not sound promising. Qifrey tensed in his seat. “And what is that supposed to mean?”
“You don’t talk to me. You don’t talk to Olruggio. You wouldn’t even tell me what was going through your head tonight. I can see you are slipping and I refuse to stand by and let you fall just because you don’t like being caught.”
“You are overreacting.”
“No, I am simply not letting you dictate the rules anymore. You’ve shown quite well how that worked for you, and I was too tolerant with you.”
That was when Qifrey realized that Beldaruit was not simply upset with him. He was angry. And it was the worst kind of anger, one hard to dispute with. The kind of anger that came from the place of love. Qifrey had learnt how this kind of anger looked on a different face several times in the past year.
Beldaruit looked at him when he spoke. “You are to stay within the atelier, unless someone goes with you. If you do go out with someone, and let’s not lie to ourselves, it will be either Olruggio or Alaira, I will make sure to inform them to drop you off at specified time. You will eat meals with me.”
This time Qifrey actually chuckled. As if the rules ever stopped him. “And if I don’t?”
“I can’t force you to obey me, but I can enforce consequences for doing so. By withholding you from attempting the fourth test, for example. Or by sending you to the Healing Spire instead,” Beldaruit said with an unwavering tone.
Qifrey stared at him. Beldaruit met his eye, unblinking and unmoving. He realized that his master was serious.
He was fucked.
───── ⟡ ─────
As it often is with choices made when one is desperate, Beldaruit realized that his decision to keep Qifrey on a suicide watch of sorts was not very well thought-through. He had his apprentice’s best interest in mind, and he came off harsher than he usually would, and he knew Qifrey had noticed.
Now, after a few days of their new ‘regime’ Beldaruit could say with certainty that he could’ve gone better about this.
He knew he overreacted. He also knew that if he took his words back, Qifrey would take it as a sign that his actions were excused. That boy was astonishingly quick to find all and any loopholes, and this time Beldaruit was not willing to take the risk of letting him fall through one, even if it meant putting on more distance between them.
What was worrying him the most was that Qifrey seemed… awfully pliant about the whole thing. As if he had lost the will to fight against the limitations he so despised.
Beldaruit watched with worry as Qifrey followed his requests. The resentment was thickening the air between them, unspoken betrayal hovering above them as they shared meals and hours in the study.
And yet, Qifrey didn’t argue. That somehow made it better and worse all the same.
“You are not going to complain?” Beldaruit asked him once, over breakfast.
Qifrey looked up from his plate and stared at him with a dull expression. “You gave me an ultimatum. I either comply, or you put my fourth on hold.”
“I did, but…”
“Then what’s the point in complaining?” the boy put his fork down. “I will submit my specialization of choice in a few months of these stupid rules. The date will be set and even you won’t be able to take it back. Might as well wait it out.”
He had a point. Still, it pained Beldaruit to see him so…. Defeated.
Olruggio had apparently made the matters worse. Like they agreed, the boy had walked Qifrey back to the atelier before midnight. It was the first time they’d hung out together since Qifrey’s stunt. The boy came back in a murky mood, barely waving Olruggio goodbye before he closed the doors behind him.
“How was your day?” Beldaruit asked.
“I apologized to Olly,” Qifrey replied.
Well, that was at least one good thing happening. Beldaruit nodded.
“That’s good. He’s not angry with you, is he?”
“No.” Qifrey twirled with ribbon hanging over his shoulder. “I complained to him about the rules, though.”
“Oh?”
“He said he’s glad you’re looking out for me.” Qifrey scoffed. “As if I hadn’t looked out for myself perfectly fine over the past years. He didn’t have to rub it in like that.”
Beldaruit cringed internally. He would not have expected Olruggio of all people to support this overprotective spiel. That boy had to know just how out of character it was for Beldaruit to go that far, and yet… Qifrey had no reason to lie to him about Olruggio agreeing with his methods. Not when he was clearly upset by it.
Maybe Olruggio was just… tired. It wouldn’t surprise Beldaruit to learn that the boy had been so worried about his apprentice that when some of that responsibility was lifted from his shoulders, he jumped to defend the choices that came with it.
Everyone has their limits, he supposed.
After about two weeks of this arrangement, Beldaruit started to contemplate other options. The one thing he was sure about was that he would not let the boy fall into another stupor of desperation.
It was clear that whatever they had going on was only working to an extent. Qifrey was still miserable, maybe even more so, but he kept up with his idiotic rules for the sake of staying on track with his studies.
Idiotic, because even Beldaruit himself could tell these were not doing anything but containing the disease and letting it fester instead of killing it. Qifrey was suffocating.
The following days did not bring any revelation to him. At some point, he had given up on trying to rearrange the rules of the system he set up. It was a flawed design through and through.
Instead, Beldaruit started thinking about what could actually make Qifrey feel better.
How he could offer him some air without aiding the flames of his erratic behaviors his pupil was so prone to?
It had dawned on him on the fourth day of his search for alternatives. The solution came in the form of an old book Qifrey had left open on the dining table. It was a cultural study book describing a variety of communities that made up the witch society, from the very north of Zozah Peninsula where Ghodrey laid, down to the Karaphat mountain range on the south.
But the book itself was not what caught Beldaruit’s attention, though. His eyes landed on the illustration of the page, depicting a travelling troupe of wyrmherders.
The book itself was a gift from a dear friend of his. The friend was the kind of man known for his hard labor and kind heart. A friend he would trust with his child. A friend who was, very conveniently, a wyrmherder himself.
An idea came to his mind. What was a better way to occupy a troubled mind, than with honest work? Qifrey loved the outside world, the open skies and the fresh air that didn’t taste of salt. He also loved dragons, obviously. But most importantly, Qifrey hadn’t submitted his specialty to the Wise in Teachings yet.
That meant Beldaruit could arrange an opportunity for him to research a different field in the outside word, if he pulled some strings. Of course, he’d have to ask Qifrey if he’d even be interested, but Beldaruit figured that some time outside the suffocating depths of Great Hall might actually do his apprentice some good.
Of course, he wouldn’t force the boy to actually follow through with it, if he hadn’t had the heart to. Still, he would rather ask first, rather than assume someone would actually take over his apprentice for a few weeks or even months. And if the reply came back positive, he would talk to Qifrey.
Beldaruit smiled to himself. What a great day it was to be rich, respected and well-versed in letters and names.
───── ⟡ ─────
Dear Filemon,
I hope my letterbird finds you in good health and in affable dispostion. I would most certainly love to arrange a meeting sometime to catch up, I wonder: how are Eulalia and the kids?
I will be honest with you and admit that I am writing to ask a rather substantial favor of you, and I fear I must apologize in advance for the boldness of my request.
You probably are unaware of the fact that in recent years, I have taken on my first apprentice. His name is Qifrey, and he is a smart and hardworking boy, albeit a bit reckless at times. He is currently conducting his specialization research in preparations for his fourth test.
Sadly, he’d been prone to reoccurring melancholy, and I believe Great Hall’s environment had recently been detrimental to his health. He has been struggling more than he would like to admit. I have to say, I have found myself in a bit of a tough spot. I believe he would benefit greatly from some time on a surface.
Now this is where you would be of most help. You see, my boy holds a great love for dragons and wyrms, and his knowledge could surely rival many theoretical specialists on the subjects. We both know the theory doesn’t mean much without practice, though.
Would be so inclined to consider taking Qifrey on as a temporary apprentice for the time being? He would benefit greatly from some work to occupy his mind, and I am sure he would be of help with this seasons migration. You always had a way of getting through to thick-headed bunch, which I is a trait of you I always greatly admired. If you agreed, I’m sure you would find that he certainly is rather… dense, in some aspects.
I would owe you greatly. Please get back to me at your earlier convenience.
Best regards,
Beldaruit.
───── ⟡ ─────
Dear Beldaruit,
If the boy is not afraid of work, I’ve no reasons to refuse an additional pair of helping hands. Stars know no day is boring after the little ones hatch.
You know me though, I do not condone unpaid labor as a learning experience. He will be paid just like all my seasonal hires are.
As for his blues and moods, rest assured. I will watch over him.
Bring the boy to the Ryse Summit sometime in the last week of Snowend.
See you and your boy soon,
Filemon.