A Sword Without a Hilt: A Song of Ice and Fire/D&D 3.5 Crossover

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Ninth Day of the Tenth Month 293 AC

There was no magic trace around. He looked as his unblemished skin. He tried to touch his oversized dewlap. It was not there, and the second sight was not showing anything about it.

For all intents and purposes, I'm like this now.

He hadn't been creative; he'd only used the Greater Ribbon of Disguise to change into a "normal" version of himself. No more warts, no more dewlap, and no more Frog-Faced Dirron.

"I don't have a problem with you staring at the mirror for so long, but I thought that you actually wanted to know what we truly do here," Azema said, exaggerating her impatience. Would someone who had lived for so long be truly impatient for something like this?

"Alright, we should go… but I don't see where?" Truth to be told, there were neither illusory walls nor spells hiding anything. It was strange that there was something hidden here at all.

She decided to simply ask him to accompany her. They went through a hall designed for the employees, suspiciously empty of people.

"You are wondering why there are no elaborate magical protections, right?" She opened a door to what looked like a storage room, and the vibrant sound of music, voices, and laughter could be heard. "It's because if someone had so many tools to look for trouble, then they'd just find this place anyway."

"And so you don't have any secret doors, or fake walls, just a simple door that anyone can open?" Dirron asked.

"You need an invitation to enter this place. Only those who treat my girls with enough respect get one. That's how this is regulated. If someone behaves poorly... Well, then it is my turn to show him how to leave this place."

And with that they went down, the basement being connected with multiple rooms, some small, some bigger, but all of them finely furnished, perfume filling the air, some tables and cushioned chairs filling the main room with people eating in some of them.

"What is this place?"

"A place to relax, to eat good food, appreciate art and music. It is not for everyone, but I built this to enjoy myself as much as I hope others will enjoy it." She trailed off, a proud smile on her face.

For his part, Dirron went to explore the place. The music was particular, and he found that it was coming from a strange instrument near the wall, in the middle of the main room. There was a person with the touch of the wind-aligned geniekind in his blood playing something that faintly resembled a song that Wisdom Xor played at some point during the Festival. He was enjoying himself playing the weird instrument, pressing buttons that somehow produced sound due to mechanisms hidden inside the whole contraption. His fingers were moving with a kind of grace that most humans would find difficult to attain, sometimes it looked like if they were not even totally solid by how they flew from button to button.

"Do you like him?" Azema interrupted his thoughts. "Found him in Armun Kelisk, he carries that thing around and lives off it." There was a recipient with no small amount of coins inside above the contraption.

"What is that?"

"He calls it a board of keys. Each of those buttons, or 'key' as he calls them, moves a lever that strikes a carefully arranged string. If you find it interesting, I have to tell you that I already had to prevent three bulabars from prying it open."

Dirron chuckled, and saw one of those bulabars discussing with one of the earth fey, with a lot of insistence. He was trying to have him bathe somewhere, to which the stony fey was particularly afraid of.

"We made some swimming pools heated through magic with their help. The little bugs now want everybody to try them, and they don't know when to stop. I will have to put them at ease, if you don't mind." She ruffled his hair. "Don't miss me."

And with that Dirron was alone, but he was not himself. There was no taint upon him now. And so he explored, searching for people to know. Friends to make.

There was a place with canvases and paints where many were trying to paint different things, with varying levels of skill, a kitchen where a skilled cook managed to create some dishes that were as much food as works of art themselves, but what really caught his eye was a couple people playing at that game with the steel figurines that were given around in the Festival. One was a serious-looking woman with red hair and pale and polished skin, one of the many warriors from some far away nation the Dragon King employed, and that were more and more by the second. The other he knew, she was the younger sister of the Royce knight. She had seen her around in the Scholarum, so that was as good as a conversation starter as any.

Ysilla welcomed him warmly, but put a fake pompous tone and presented him with a situation: "I'm afraid that I'm in a bit of a conundrum, Wisdom, for this vile woman has vowed to have me enclosed dedicating my whole existence to the researching of the arcane arts. So thus my freedom now hinges in my ability to win this bargain; I have to best her in this game. Should she win, I would have to return to my studies." She was all but physically sticking her tongue to the woman.

"Then surely the minds of two great mages put together should be able to properly defeat such an opponent, Wisdom," Dirron followed.

"I accept your help then, noble mage," she said, letting a smirk escape at the end.

The game was well fought, noble lives were sacrificed, and many an act of heroism was performed, but alas trickery ensued and overconfidence became the worst enemy of the unlikely pair of generals of this army. And so their last mage was killed and the last steel figurine was dropped.

A small amount of frustration showed on Dirron's voice as he asked Mereth, the woman, "How is that you won, if Ysilla was the one to invent the game?"

"She didn't invent war," the solemn countenance of the pale woman replied. Then her expression softened and added, "It was a good game".

"Next time we will win," said Ysilla, with no small amount of determination.

"I see you two have met," the voice of Azema interrupted. "I knew you would get along with young Dirron here," she said as she ruffled his hair, and he clumsily tried to pull his head away. "But Ysilla, I thought that I advised you to stay away from bad company."

Ysilla giggled, "I always wondered how you manage to say things like that with a straight face."

"It was the girl the one who said it, I cannot be blamed for her actions," Mereth said.

"I was actually wondering why you are here. I thought that your people never shirked from their duties," Azema said. It had the air of friendly banter, but Dirron had the feeling that there was something below that, something that he couldn't quite understand.

"We find a purpose in our work, and we find satisfaction in that. Better than aimlessly wandering through the world causing chaos wherever you step, don't you think?" Mereth's face was plain as a stone, not a hint of emotion showing off it.

"Of course, that's why I decided to surpass my origins and make something else with my life. I see that you are doing the same," Azema said, gesturing at the figurines. Ysilla chuckled.

"We have been assigned to protect the Royce family now, I'm just making sure that she is attending to important matters before merrymaking." And then she turned to Ysilla. "Speaking of that, you should be going. A deal is a deal."

Ysilla sighed, "I know…" And as she started going back, she turned to Dirron. "We gather on some afternoons to play, you should come someday." And with that she left without much enthusiasm through the stairs.

"And with that my job is finished here," said that woman. "Farewell, be sure to not neglect your studies, boy," she said before disappearing, leaving a faint smell of brimstone behind.

Was she another fiend? He absentmindedly scratched his dewlap. And then he stopped. Why did he have that oversized dewlap again?

It was then that he saw the Ribbon in Azema's hands, a smirk on her face. Dirron cursed.

"Why did you do that? D-Did she see me like this?"

"Yes, since you went to talk to her."

Dirron froze. "Then why didn't she—"

"Why didn't she treat you like the frog-faced aberration that you think you are? Because you were not treating yourself like that."

"Then she knows who I am and didn't reject me?"

Azema sighed. "At this point, you are the one rejecting yourself, boy. Or would you rather condemn your whole life to living like that?" She crossed her arms and stared at him intently. "My father was a warlord who liked way too much to stick his sword into many different things, but I should not bear with his sins, neither should you if you were captured and mutated by that madman back in the Old Deep."

With all the oddities in the Deep, was his face so much of a problem? Was he the one who had let the others call him frog-face?

"… Thank you." It was all that Dirron could do to not burst into tears.

"Don't thank me. I'm doing Glyra's job here. That lazy pest surely wanted to delegate her responsibility into me. But I'm not your mother, boy, and you need to fend for yourself. I wouldn't be a great mother anyway."

"So you only helped me because Glyra pestered you?"

Her expression grew serious, "Yes. I know her kind and I'd rather spend some time fixing you instead of dealing with her pranks". Her posture then softened, and she added, "Besides, no one should grow up like that."

"Not even your children?" Dirron blurted, and cursed himself for having said so. Why can't I keep myself quiet? She has helped me a lot already.

But there was no anger directed at him, instead she whispered, half an answer to him, and half to her.

"Not even them."

OOC: And so this act reaches its conclusion. If anyone is wondering how is that Glyra orchestrated this? Well, the House of Mirrors exists, and a determined Gremlin can learn a lot about people, especially when she has free reign to make questions.