The food was good, but did little to satisfy. And the wine? Much the same. Darling’s brief appearance had draped a pall upon Dim’s mood. While there was regret, not to mention pain, he was more reflective, more introspective than anything else. Whilst he ate, he questioned, wondering how things might have been. Hindsight gave him wisdom, and with wisdom, he gained clarity. With clarity, he saw a much larger picture.

Even if he had stayed at home, at some point his mother’s nefarious plans would have come to light. Home would not have stayed home for long, and they would have had to flee: this outcome was inevitable, unavoidable. This would have been a terrible outcome, Dim knew, because then he would have stumbled into Grogar’s clutches with none of the sense of self he had found during his time on the Grittish Isles. Why, he might have embraced Grogar just for the sake of comfort, or from boredom, or just to continue his deadened, muffled existence.

His companions laughed and Dim was distracted, but not so much so that he lost this train of thought. That Dim, his previous self, was the very embodiment of weakness; soft, spineless, sniveling, with no discernible sense of character. As for the Dim he was now… he allowed his eyes to go from companion to companion, except for Blackbird, because he was fearful of what he might see.

Their fight was his fight. Why? There had been times rather recently that he had convinced himself that he knew the reasons, but now he doubted. Yet, this doubt was not the self-crippling kind. No, this was introspective, self-searching doubt. He had honest concerns about his own motivations, and Martinet’s words echoed in the depths of his mind, as did the Spider Queen’s.

A part of him longed to speak to Chantico.

“Dim.”

The sound of his name caused all of his thoughts to tumble. It was a commanding voice, imperious even, and while it had been a friendly, kind voice, it was nothing like that now. Holding his fondue fork aloft, Dim locked eyes with Chromium, the dragon who wore the body of a unicorn. His voice was cold now, utterly devoid of warmth or emotion. Dim realised he wasn’t being spoken to, but rather, spoken at.

“Why do you take refuge in shadow, Dim?” Both of Chromium’s forelegs came to rest upon the table and the not-unicorn leaned forwards. “If you would only step into the light, Dim… embrace it. You would not be so vulnerable to these… intrusions. Your deviance puts you, as well as your companions, at risk. Why do this to them?”

An unsettling quiet settled over the table; even the clink of tableware and glasses seemed muffled. Dim had no answer, at least not at the moment, and Chromium’s words had laid him bare. The not-unicorn sipped from his wine glass, grimaced, and set his glass down on the table. Dim, unwilling to reveal just how shaken he was, nibbled on the cheese-soaked bread skewered upon the end of his fondue fork.

“Look at you… look at how you have risen above your base nature. You are powerful, Dim… of that there can be no argument. But, if only you would step into the light… you could become truly great. Your name would be remembered through the ages. For good things, mind you. Not infamy. Cast aside your degeneracy and step into the light, Dim.”

Eyes narrowing, Dim sneered at the dragon wearing a unicorn body. “You know, I don’t go telling you to step into the shadows with me. I’m not nearly sanctimonious enough. There is something to be said about that, I feel. As a force of righteousness, Chantico chose me to be her herald… not some pompous, bloviating, self-righteous windbag.”

“This emotion… this passion… this fire. It burns for no cause other than your own. With your great wit, you advance no great cause other than your own selfish ends. There are nobles, Dim, and then are nobles. Those truly born to rule. As it stands right now, you are an asset to no one, not even yourself. Your indecision has left you vulnerable, weak even, to the advances of the Enemy. But you could be doing more. Look at what you have done here. But this… this is a half-hearted effort.”

“Your flattery is but nettles, insults in the guise of compliments. Is this what passes for the manners of dragons?” Dim saw a dark shadow pass over Chromium’s face and was filled with wicked glee that he was careful to not reveal. “Do the righteous have no need of table manners? No respect for their hosts? How is it that I, a creature you denigrate and attempt to shame, has better etiquette than you do? Say what you will about my degeneracy, but I have impeccable table manners.”

“You have no respect for goodness—”

“I think you mean to say I have no fear of you and I do not kowtow to your self-righteous, haughty demands. Your aloofness disgusts me. You dragons could be doing more for the world. But no… you only came to help at the request of another. While you and your kind did nothing but revel in your own glory, how many died here? How many suffered? How long was this decline allowed to happen while capable creatures such as yourself did nothing? Fuck you, and fuck your lazy haughtiness, wyrm.” Then, remembering his manners, he gestured at the two dragons he rescued and added, “Present company excluded. At least you two were out helping the world.”

Prominence seemed downright horrified by this exchange, and averted her eyes.

Motte—who cast fearful glances in Chromium’s direction—cleared his throat and said, “If I may, I’d like to call attention to the fact that Dim has a point. You elder dragons do nothing until it suits you, all while looking down at us and calling attention to our shortcomings.”

“We can’t get involved in everything, because you short-lived creatures are always in some state of conflict. Your societies change too rapidly for us to keep up. At one point, when slaves rose up against their masters, the right thing was helping their masters keep order. Now things are topsy-turvey. When slaves revolt, whose side do we take? The changes that you and your kind enact… change for the sake of change… and always so quickly. Some things we allow to happen and then we let history be the judge of who was right, and who was wrong. It is difficult to tell when it is the right time to become involved. Everything seems to be a crisis with your kind.” Chromium, who spoke in a calm deadpan, poured himself more wine while he kept his gaze focused on Dim.

Blackbird squirmed in her seat, almost as if she was sitting on a hot coal, and Dim wished that she wouldn’t be so distracting. Her face contorted in all sorts of ways, her talons flexed, and behind her, her tail flogged empty air. Just as Dim was about to say something to Blackbird about what she was doing, she had her own words to say.

“Uh, did you just defend slavery? Is that what passes for good?”

“It was acceptable at one time,” Chromium replied, still speaking in an emotionless deadpan.

“I thought good was immutable.” Blackbird leveled her predatory gaze upon Chromium, and this drew his attention away from Dim.

“It was noble. The masses were given purpose, meaning, and laboured for the greater good. Now, look around you. Look at the squallour. These creatures have no purpose, no meaning, and each of them works for a cause no greater than their own survival.”

“That sounds an awful lot like slaver talk…”

“You’re utterly incapable of seeing the bigger picture with your short, insignificant life. This is why we don’t get involved. Our views and your views are utterly incompatible.” Though his voice did not change, Chromium frowned.

Before anything else could be said, Prominence spoke, and did so with great eloquence. “Ember is trying to form a dragon homeland. She feels that we’ve sat back and done nothing for too long while the world suffers around us. We’re capable of great good, but we’ve done nothing but look after our own selfish interests for far too long. That’s why Thod and I were sent out into the world, so that we might learn to do better. We’re dragons. We are mighty, mighty dragons. Do we have a noble reputation? No. We’re jerks. Selfish, greedy, hoarding jerks.”

“Prominence,” Chromium began, his deadpan gone and his tone chiding.

But he was cut off when she continued, “Ember’s great shame is that we didn’t do anything until this gathering conflict affected us. We’re being hunted. Butchered. The big dragons have gone into retreat, hiding in their secret places until this trouble passes, while us little ones are stuck trying to fend for ourselves. We have no friends. We have no allies. We’re hated because of how you elder dragons have acted. We’re paying for your inaction. We have no goodwill and now we’re forced to beg for assistance. We have not lived up to our potential.”

“Ember is wrong for what she does. We dragons should not get involved.”

Prominence bristled, and now, so did Thod, who reacted poorly to his companion’s anger.

“Then why are you here, helping is?” Blackbird demanded.

“Because Celestia asked of me a favour,” Chromium replied without hesitation.

“So your idea of good is to take a long nap and wake up and check if the world is better or worse than when you were last awake?” Blackbird’s claws drummed against the table and while she waited for a response, her pointed teeth scraped over her lips.

Chromium did not respond. He sat there, drinking his wine, his eyes flashing in some incomprehensible, but clearly menacing way. Dim could feel the tension in the air—and the magic too. He was almost certain that Chromium’s scales had been left a little bent from this exchange, and that the ancient dragon was angry.

“You tell Dim to step into the light… to do good, while your kind nap for centuries, leaving us, and your own young to suffer as the world takes a turn for the worse.” Blackbird’s claws ceased drumming, and now tore deep gouges into the wood. “Hypocrite!” She spat out the word with as much vehemence as she could muster.

“I’ll not be judged by such insignificant, short-sighted creatures.” With that, Chromium vanished.

“I need some air!” Blackbird bellowed as she hurled herself away from the table.

Dim watched as she rose; he considered joining her, but there was fondue to eat, as well as wine to drink.

One by one, or in pairs, the companions excused themselves away from the table. Not long after Blackbird’s departure, Bombay left as well. After that, it was Motte and Bailey, with Motte saying that he had things to do before they departed, but never once mentioned what those things were. Jolie and Gratin were next, with Jolie politely informing them that she wanted to make sure the Solar Stinger was ship-shape.

Even with her guests leaving, Pearl Fisher’s cheerful demeanour never faltered.

Munro was enjoying himself, and so was Puke Puddle by the looks of things. Her fork was far too large for her, but that didn’t stop her from trying to make it work. Prominence was distracted—so much so that she said nothing, nothing at all, and stared down at her plate while she ate. As for Thod, he just sat there, grinning, beaming, just being the happy dragon that he was.

“Things is what they is,” Pearl Fisher said, smiling a warm, gracious smile. “Not all of us walk in the light, and that’s okay. The Weavers, for all their supposed goodness, they walk the Middle Path.”

Dim, intrigued, allowed his face to show it.

“There be goodness in the Middle Path.” Pearl Fisher’s eyes were bright, attractive, and it was easy to see why Chanson was smitten with her. “Or so I’m told. If I be honest, I never gave it much thought. They do what they do, and I do what I do. Weavers don’t tell me what to do, and I don’t tell Weavers what to do. Why would I?” She shook her head hard enough to cause her ears to bob slightly.

“Jeebie King, you saved a goblin. Is that not goodness? Those of us who truly embrace goodness and light, they have no mercy for such a creature. No tolerance. It shames me to say so, but we good ones look after our own. Those that look like us, talk like us, and be like us. There is a lesson to be learned here, because… I don’t talk like them, look like them, or be like them. Unicorn I might be, but I am more zebra than pony. Those that Chromium might call good took our island, colonised it, and made my kind slaves. So much was said.”

Munro sighed.

“You sigh. Why?” Pearl Fisher asked.

“Oh…” The minotaur calf, put on the spot, held out his hand. But then, after a moment, he relented, and chose to speak. “At home, we minotaurs have a caste system. It is called good… but… I’ve been questioning it. I have doubts. I’m not so sure that it is good. It’s order, and I suppose that is good… but is order good? I mean, slavery is a form of order, and tyrants can keep the peace. But is peace beneath tyranny good?”

“That be the danger of leaving home, young one. We get exposed to other thoughts and we question what we know. Some are threatened by that. This I know, as there are many here who feel threatened by me.” Pearl Fisher’s smile faltered for a moment, and her eyes grew dark. But this did not last long and her sunny disposition asserted itself.

“Going home is going to be hard,” muttered Munro to himself.

For Dim, going home was impossible, but he found himself sympathising with his valet in spite of his own selfish thoughts. He glanced at the two dragons, the young ones, one of whom had disagreed with her elder. What was home like for her, he found himself thinking. She had left, and like Munro, her horizons had been expanded. Broadened. Going home might be difficult—or easy, it was impossible to tell.

“The peace of tyranny,” said Dim to those listening, “is akin to the quiet of the grave. Individuality is crushed. The self dies. Be fearful of quiet places where none dare speak, nor will they look you in the eye. This is what I have learned in my travels.” A rare smile graced his face, though he was not aware of it when it happened. After a moment, he nodded to his tablemates, and had one final thing to say: “Please, excuse me. Thank you, Pearl Fisher, the meal was lovely. You’ve been a most gracious host.”

Author's Notes:

This chapter has been a work in progress for a very long time...