“Sir,” asked Ono in a tone used to speak to a mildly recalcitrant child, “did you perform axiomatic surgery on yourself?”

  Rieven groaned and lay back down, covering his eyes with the crook of his right arm. “Yes,” he mumbled, “had no choice. Apparently dragon organs are multiplicative as far as axiomatic concentration is concerned, and the void spectre working actually feasts on axiomatic patterns when used to devour a living being.” He lifted his arm and pointed around the room in a minimally sweeping gesture, “that, forget I said that. No one must know that.” He let his arm flop back down on the floor again.

  Private Dragon Tooth spoke up, willingly offering himself on the sacrificial alter of inferior rank, “We ain’t heard nothin’ nor seen nothin’ since we come in this room. It’s a strange room. The official report will be filled with questions and folks at Homeworld’ll want to have one for themselves.” Rieven smiled slightly, or did he grimace? It was so hard to tell right now.

  “Thank you Private Dragon Tooth. Please shut up now and let me sleep.” Rieven put his helmet back on and switched over to his private link with Ono. “Ono, I need to get to the good doctor yesterday. My axiomatic pattern is FUBAR and if I get to sleep without his help, it will begin to set in and scar. I need fifteen minutes to recuperate and then we must get to Big Red and have our last heart to heart. Please get the good doctor ready for me.”

  “Sir! At least you’re aware when you’re stupid. That’ll keep you alive longer than you or I both deserve. He’ll be ready for you, I’m contacting him now. I wish you hadn’t said that in front of the boys, but you’re not right inside yet and they’re your squad now so it’s fitting, in a way. Just ping me if you want me to take over in any way with Big Red.”

  “Thank you Ono. I need this.”

  Fifteen minutes later Rieven stood and opened his eyes again, the lights were so bright. He filtered the radiation through his faceplate and dimmed the world by half. There, he thought, that’s better. Now I can see without a headache. All of those swirly stars moving around the room and through the people is distracting, but filtering out axiom and intense light helps. Ungh.” He keyed the comm to Ono’s channel, “Please move us out and get us there. I’m happy not talking.”

  Master sergeant Ono got them into formation and the door unlocked. When they stepped into the hall they saw Darhi standing at the opposite wall at attention. Ono said, “Please take us to your lord Heat Death Virabdhara.”

  The dragon nodded and began walking. They soon came upon a service entrance which led to a lift. Rieven couldn’t see what the dragon did, there were no controls he could see, but inertia told him that they were moving in an upwards direction. After a moment or two they came to a stop and the door opened. Darhi stepped through, turned sideways, and gestured for them to precede him into the new chamber.

  What they walked into was so simple it was underwhelming. The floors and walls were still stone, but it looked like the room had been carved into a cliff, not built. It was all one hollow room, amount fifty metres square. Along the other three walls were counters, littered with items. It looked like a museum. In the centre of it all stood Big Red. He took one look at them and shifted to the side, “Darhi, you are no longer needed.” The younger dragon turned and left through the lift.

  His raspy voice continued, “This that you see assembled here are the worldly possessions of one Ahknahten, that which he owned personally or won through his own merits. You may take all or none or some of it, the choice remains yours. Browse for a time and see what speaks to you, if anything. Then decide what to do with the rest. Our conversation may continue after you are satisfied with your choices. I am available for clarification on any of the items as desired.”

  Ono’s voice came over their private channel, “Sir, please take a quick walk around the room. If anything talks to you, please let me know so I can kill it. We can then request all of it to be moved to your new vessel and can be off.”

  Rieven nodded his assent and began walking widdershins around the room. The items were odd and mundane at the same time, nail files, casks of alcohol of some kind (hopefully spirits, but who knew), scrolls on every subject (he could read them thanks to the working). He turned to Big Red, “I can read the scrolls now, but will I be able to read them once we depart from your empire?”

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “No, you will not. I suggest you also take the primer laid out for you against the next wall. That will help.”

  He looked and sure enough the next item was a small booklet that looked like a reading primer for children. That will do, thought Rieven, the skquiglies will go nuts for that – an introduction to a new language. So far nothing had spoken to him or stood out as exceptional in any way that seemed beyond the ordinary. He came to the third corner and stopped.

  Sitting atop a dark purple cushion was a pearl, about the size of a human heart. It was a creamy colour that was mildly iridescent and shone with a pale golden light. It appeared to be very much what a child would expect a falling star to look like if they could find one. It felt important. He didn’t know in what way, just that it was important to him. He tried to think about why that would be, but his hand was already resting atop the pearl before he could articulate any of his concerns.

  The moment his hand touched the pearl a feeling of utter hopelessness, loss, and abandonment fell down on him like a wet blanket, wrapping around his consciousness as thoroughly as water did his body in a bath. He gasped in a breath as he felt a layer of fear floating over everything, an oily film that clung and refused to be removed. It was invasive and disgusting. He thought, well that belongs in the crapper, and mentally forced axiom from his newly filled Baritone Vault down his hand and into the pearl, scouring that film away with prejudice.

  This had the effect of making the pearl switch from a soft golden glow to a quiet silver sheen. Now that the fear was dealt with the feelings of loss and abandonment could be addressed. He pulled axiom through his heart, grabbing the emotion from the metaphysical organ in his axiomatic pattern, and sent it into the pearl, allowing it to feel what he felt when he thought of people that he loved, of those he served with and of his love of himself. The pearl began to warm somewhat. He pushed the impression over into the pearl that he was never alone and not abandoned, threading axiom through his metaphysical heart again to do so.

  The iridescent sheen cut out, like a signal no longer being received. In its place was a dull metallic shine wherever light struck it. All that remained was a feeling of hopelessness. Rieven smirked. This was depression. This was dark. But it was an old friend. This was his constant companion after the death of his parents, after the scouring of his nation, after the loss of his brothers he served with. He knew what to do with this – it went into the crapper and got replaced with purpose.

  He ran axiom through the metaphysical organ of his brain in his axiomatic pattern and sent the purpose of defending your brothers to either side of you, of upholding a general order out of the chaos of war, and of fulfilling a useful function in a rigid command structure that protected more than just oneself. The feelings of hopelessness faded to the background and a question seemed to remain. It was a soft, gentle questioning of truth. Was what he had said true?

  Rieven sent back another pulse of axiom that he first ran through his entire axiomatic pattern and reinforced with every ounce of will he could produce. The tone of this axiomatic pulse was: TRUE! The axiom was accepted and the colour of the pearl changed to the green at the bottom of the sea. Now all he felt was acceptance of the new purpose and joy at companionship and the hope of receiving the love of others.

  When he removed his hand from the pearl the emotions cut off immediately. Rieven put his hand on the pearl again and felt shock that the companionship had ended so soon, but excitement that it was back. Odd, he thought, it’s as if this pearl is alive. He turned to Big Red. “What is this pearl?”

  The dragon looked at it strangely for a moment then shifted his gaze back to Rieven, “That is a pearl the dragon Akhnahten earned clearing a nest of Wythgoesh along the edge of the fallen territory of the lost families. It had no clear purpose there and we aren’t certain what it means. Why did it change colour and texture?”

  Rieven thought quickly, I can’t let him know too much about our mental axiomatic abilities, but he needs some answer. He said, “When I touched it, it was as if I had to solve mental puzzles. Once I did, it changed colour. I’m not sure what it means, but there aren’t any more puzzles at the moment. Perhaps it needs to recharge? What did Akhnahten’s archives say about it?”

  The dragon said nothing for a long moment. Then he simply nodded said, “The pearl was not mentioned as anything other than a curiosity, as pearls of that size are rare and that it must have belonged to one of the lost families at one time.” He then indicated the remaining wall of possessions with his head.

  Rieven kept the pearl in his hand and continued on. This last wall was sparsely populated, filled only with a single item the dragon had made by his own intent for his own use. It was a painting. It was framed in weathered wood worked plainly and was about a metre and a half long and half that high. It was a simple water colour and relied heavily on the use of empty space. The scene depicted was a willow tree on a hill, a river was in the distance and the sun was rising through the grass. It was indescribably soothing. He touched it and felt it begin to heal part of his axiomatic pattern. He wasn’t sure how, but he felt that if left alone with this painting, it would make him sturdier and more solid, in some metaphysical way. Whatever that meant.

  He turned to Big Red and said, “I will take these two items personally, and will gladly accept your assistance in moving the rest to my vessel prior to my departure.”

  The dragon rasped out, “Very well, then if you would accompany me to the lift, we may speak our final bit of business on the way back to your transport.”

  Rieven cut his comms and breathed out a sigh of relief. After his self-surgery and that strange mental battle with the pearl, he was wiped. That was excluding combat with a dragon. Today sucked. Suddenly a pulse of empathy and concern came from the pearl in his hand, like a soothing backrub in a moment of crisis. It was wonderfully uplifting. He looked down at the pearl in shock as they boarded the lift. What was this thing? Was it sentient? Sapient? Friendly? Cunning? Should he trust it?

  The sensation of a soothing backrub continued gently, though no hand was there to guide the feeling.