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"Teleportation is... tricky." Saro begins. "It is best to only attempt it at short ranges. The farther you go the more of a chance you'll... lose a part or two in the traversal."

Closing his eyes tightly, as if afraid of that very result, the arcanist serpent makes a quick gesture with his hand and mumbles a word under his breath. In a faint flash of silver-blue, he disappears from view, only to reappear in another spot in the garden, only a few steps away. His draconian student merely watches silently from his spot on the tended grass.

Exhaling sharply, Saro continues, "It takes substantial force of will to maintain your form accurately if you traverse too far. Failing to do so is... not pretty. I would not recommend it." At this, he grins slightly, looking directly at his student.

Rezel, his student, offers a wide grin back to his teacher. "I'll keep that in mind, Master Saro."

Saro chuckles. "Good! Then I can trust you with the incantations."

Reaching inside his tightly fitting robes, he procures a loosely wrapped, hastily scrawled scroll, which he hands to his apprentice. Rezel wastes no time in unrolling it and quickly digesting the spells written within.

"As with personal teleportation, teleporting objects too much tends to cause chunks of them to go missing, lost in the ether. So, I would refrain from that sort of thing. It's poor taste, you see?"

Rezel nods and chuckles softly. "You're telling me not to teleport your things around. But what shall I practice on?"

Looking around the garden for a brief moment, Saro walks towards a nearby tree and pulls a ripe red apple from it. He tosses it to Rezel, who deftly snatches it out of the air.

"On that! There's plenty to practice on, when you inevitably tear that one apart with over-teleportation. But try not to starve us, I plan on snacking on some later."

With a mouthful of apple, Rezel nods and feigns ignorance. "Oh, of course, I should PRACTICE on these."

Holding the bitten apple in his palm, Rezel focuses on it and mutters a word. Silver-blue light envelops it and it disappears from sight. In the next instant, he hears Saro let out a grunt of derision, and looks over to see the results of his spell.

Sitting directly on Saro's smooth, scaled head is.. what remains of an apple. Either Rezel slightly miscast the spell... or the apple lacked the force of will to hold itself together in transit. It has been rendered into a shapeless pile of apple innards and unceremoniously dumped over the serpent teacher's head.

Saro seems displeased. "Aagh!" Reaching up with a hand, he feels the moist pile of former apple and lets out a grimace. "Ew! You did that on purpose!" Shaking and wiping off the mess, he fails to hide a grin as he gestures a slap into the air. "You little... brat!"

On that last word, Rezel feels a focused kinetic force, not unlike an invisible hand, slam onto his rump, the sting easily penetrating his clothing. Jumping forwards, he lets out a sharp yelp and drops a hand to rub the offended area, wincing as the initial sting fades away to a biting soreness. Looking up, he nearly jumps again as he is greeted by the face of his teacher, wearing an expression of feigned indignation. Before Rezel can react, Saro grabs him and ruffles his hair affectionately.

"I'm glad you grasped the spell so easily, but you need to practice to avoid... miscasts." He says the last word with playful derision.

Rezel whines and struggles against the hold. "Ahh, yes Master Saro! Apologies, Master Saro! Let me go!"

Rezel pushes free as his teacher releases his grip, rubbing his head with a grumpy expression. The kindly serpent smiles at his flushing student, amused by his antics and struck by his youthful exuberance. He has grown fond of the young dragonkin - though Saro himself isn't much older, being only five and a half decades, fairly young by his race's standards. In exchange, Rezel found himself impressed by the ease at which Saro wields and teaches the arcane, and also is a little... enamoured by the kindness and generosity that the older serpent has shown him. Rezel had journeyed far to reach this place; the city of Eryios, which houses the Serysian Academy of the Arcane, where many magi, young and old, go to learn and research their trade. It is very rare to see one of the dragonkin from across the sea, though a few adventurous and curious ones have made the trip over recent years. Rezel speaks little of his origins and his journey, only that he wishes to learn magic to augment his race's natural sorcery.

Unfortunately, the dragonkin from the far west are not yet seen as true residents of Serysia, and he was turned away at the very gates of his goal. Saro found himself rumoured to be kindly and hospitable (a fact that he tries not to spread around), and it was only a matter of time before Rezel showed up at his door, looking for lodging and perhaps hopefully... a lesson or two in the arcane. Such unsanctioned instruction is heavily discouraged, especially as he was already turned away from the Academy because of his racial status. Yet, Saro teaches, and Rezel learns.

It is fortunate that Saro was struck by Rezel's odd charms, and equally impressed by his aptitude for learning the intricacies of arcane magic. Fortunate for both of them, perhaps.

---

Like a gentle, invisible hand, the sweeping wind caresses the landscape, the short, stubborn grass twitching and quivering in response. The terrain around Eyrios could be likened to a wasteland; not quite dry like the deserts further east, but not as lush as the lands to the west. It is an in-between for the two climates, and seemingly with none of the benefits of either.

The sun hangs low in the sky, steadily making its journey downwards to take shelter underneath the rolling hills of the west. Saro takes a deep breath, savouring the cool air and the scent of the changing seasons.

"Mmm, the cold season will be here soon." He says, averting his gaze from his friend and former colleague, Larun.

He could feel Larun's emerald eyes upon him, knowing they did not come to the outskirts of the city for simple small talk. Sighing, Saro begins the conversation anew.

"Do they suspect?"

Larun's soft, melodic voice usually puts Saro at ease, but not this time. It rings too much of worry. "They always suspect, dear Saro."

"Do they know, then?"

"I do not believe so... but I... I cannot be everywhere. I cannot keep tabs on every one curious enough to scry."

"Simple scrying will reveal nothing."

"Indeed, yet all they need to see is a glimpse of him practising to have reason enough to..."

"I know... I am careful, Larun."

Saro feels a hand on his shoulder, and he turns to see Larun's slim, sleek face, concern written on every scale.

"Why do you take such a risk for the youngling?" The question is genuine, and would have sounded critical coming from anyone but his dear friend. Instead, it echoes with care and concern.

Saro pauses for a long moment to consider his thoughts. For such a simple question, Saro had no simple answer. "I do not know." He answers honestly, "He... he seemed so intent to learn. I thought it harmless to teach him some simple cantrips, just to satisfy his curiosity."

Aware of the possible consequences of his actions, Saro could not help but be afraid of being discovered. The wards throughout his home keep others from peering into it through magical means, and it is cloistered away well enough to avoid more physical observation. Still, it is hard to stifle the worries sometimes.

In an attempt to ease such worries by justifying his logic, Saro continues. "He took to it so well, and asked for something more challenging. I was impressed... I wanted to test him. And... I find myself continuously testing him, slowly teaching him everything I know. He devours my knowledge, and he..." Saro hesitates as he considers his emotions. "He... makes me proud. Am I wrong for doing this, Larun?"

The hand on his shoulder grips him softly, reassuringly. "You are doing nothing wrong..." Larun begins, his tone darkening, "... but the Academy will not see it that way. You know this."

Saro sighs again, though his confidence is slightly bolstered by the mental picture of Rezel's excited, smiling face. It seems a shame to let such talent go to waste, but it is hard to say what the Academy would do if they found out the dragonkin was learning magic, despite being turned away. Inside the city walls, no less. Imprisonment? Exile? Execution? It is a scary thought. But... everything should be okay, as long as it is kept secret. It must remain a secret. A long moment passes as both Saro and Larun consider these possibilities.

"I will let you know if things change." Larun says, releasing his grip from Saro's shoulder and turning back towards the city.

"Thank you, Larun. Truly."

Turning back towards Saro, Larun smiles, before realizing his friend has moved forward to wrap him in a tight, affectionate hug. Smiling softly, Larun returns the embrace before finally making his way back into the city, with Saro following behind shortly after.

---

Perhaps I am rushing things, Saro thinks as he glances at his eager student, standing at the ready across the courtyard. Is this really necessary? Am I afraid of what may happen to him?

Rezel notices his master's sudden hesitation, but remains silent. His curiosity, edging on concern, is written clearly on his face. Saro notices this, his feelings of affection and worry for the young student bolstering his resolve. If something were to happen... I want him to be prepared.

Just as Rezel's curiosity was getting the better of him, Saro straightens up and speaks, his face set with grim determination. "Rezel, today, I am going to instruct you in the ways of self defence."

Rezel's eyes grow wide, his curiosity suddenly exploding out of him. "What? Self defence? Why?"

"You have grasped the basics very well, it is time that you learn how to use them together, in practice, should you find yourself in a situation where your life is endangered."

Rezel is surprised at this, but still very intrigued. He wonders why his masters peaceful, playful lessons have turned so grim, so abruptly. The expression on Saro's face elicits just as much unease as the words do. Still, as with any lesson, he intends to take it in stride and demonstrate his budding talent.

"Through magic, there are many ways to harm another, and just as many ways of protecting yourself. Shields are our first line of defence, as well as typically being our last. A screen weaved from arcane energy can be nigh impenetrable, depending on the skill of the user."

At this, Saro curtly waves a hand and a shimmering azure barrier forms in the air before him.

"I taught you this in your first few days of instruction, though I did not elaborate on its use. Hopefully you can recall the spell?"

As if on cue, Rezel does the same incantation, and a similar screen of energy forms in the air in front of him. It is smaller, fainter, but still holds its form as a shield.

"Very good..." Suddenly, Saro's shield dissipates as he flings a bolt of fire towards Rezel. Rezel has little time to react, but he still mentally moves the hovering shield to block the blow through pure instinct. The fire impacts the shield and burns away, leaving the shield relatively intact, though perhaps a tad more faint.

That could have been a risk, but Saro was confident in Rezel's reflexes. "Good, but your shield lacks strength. However, there are ways around a... limitation like that. Fire a spell at me."

Rezel stares at his master, judging his focused expression. Confronted with the deadly seriousness of the arcanist serpent, Rezel decides not to allow himself room for doubt. With a quick word and gesture, a swirling bolt of flame issues from his fingertips. Intent on making an impact, he weaves his own draconic sorcery into the spell, multiplying the power of the flames twofold.

The searing fire streaks across the courtyard, bathing the area in a brief, rippling wave of heat and light. Saro, though momentarily surprised at the intensity of the spell, still manages to step aside and angle his arcane shield to deflect the blast. Repelled by the screen, the bolt of fire bounces into the stone wall that surrounds the secluded courtyard. Saro looks over to survey the damage, sighing and looking perturbed at the scorched stone. Unsure of whether to scold his student or himself, he simply pushes the thought out of his mind.

"As you can see..." He glances at the destruction, looking a little forlorn, "...you can redirect a projectile, rather than simply block it. Less strain on the shield."

Saro straightens himself up, allowing his shield to fade away. Rezel takes this as a cue to drop his own shield, looking at his master with dutiful attention.

"Now, I haven't touched on this before. It is possible to disrupt as spell as it is being evoked. This will cancel out the energies and cause the spell to fizzle."

Saro stretches his arms out, a nimbus of arcane energy wisping between them. "Many arcanists say that counterspelling is a delicate thing, like plucking a single string of a harp. But really... you're simply mashing a bunch of your mana into their mana, to cause the spell to spontaneously fail."

Arcane energy swirls around Saro's hands, and as he begins to form them into a barrage of scintillating missiles, he forces a second surge of energy into the incomplete spell. In a startling crackle of magic, the spell is lost, and the lavender streams of magic fade into the air.

Satisfied at his demonstration of the effect, Saro nods at his student. "Attempt to cast something at me. I will try to disrupt it. See if you can hold the spell together." Without knowing it, Saro has neglected to tell of one of the possible consequences of an overloaded spell: an explosive backfire.

Eager to comply, Rezel begins to call fiery mana into the air before him. Crafting the spell with a few swift gestures of his hands, he once again weaves draconic flame into it. The effect on the spell as it forms is subtle; Saro does not take notice as he prepares his counterspell.

In the brief moment of casting, Rezel begins to wonder if his master will disrupt the spell at all as the energies take their final shape as a bright bolt of flame. At that very instant, Rezel feels the spell distort and become unstable when a burst of foreign mana surges into the fire. As the flames burn brighter and brighter, Rezel realizes his mistake in adding his sorcery for this demonstration. If it were just a normal spell, the power would be easily contained, and even if he could not complete the spell, the energy would most likely have dispersed relatively harmlessly.

But the draconic flames are too intense, too powerful. The whirling mana, arcane flame, and draconic fire rises to a crescendo of activity...

And then bursts.

Rezel's figure vanishes in the blast, and Saro is able to entertain a brief moment of horror before the fire and smoke throws him against the wall, and all becomes black.

---

Faint trickles of consciousness begin flitering back into Rezel's mind. Sounds. Scrolls shuffling. Voices. One is very close, and familiar. The memories flood back to him. The backfire of his spell was powerful, but with a hastily-cast shield and a quick dive for cover, he managed to spare himself from the worst of the blast. Still, as the world around him grows clearer, so does the pain that courses through his body.

Opening his eyes, he is greeted by the face of his mentor and master, looking at him with an expression of deep concern and guilt. Behind him stands an unfamiliar face; another arcanist serpent by the looks of him, though slightly more slender than Saro, with scales a faint shade of green rather than Saro's light brown. Upon thinking on it, Rezel realizes he may have seen this serpent speaking with Saro before and tries to recall where and when, but nothing specific comes to mind. A friend, perhaps...?

"Thank the Aurora, you're awake! Oh, Rezel... I'm so sorry, this was all my fault, I..."

Before Rezel can rasp out a response, Saro wraps his arms gently around him and holds him tightly. Rezel inhales deeply, strangely comforted by his masters familiar scent. His vision finally coming into complete focus, he notices that he is no longer in their home, but in an unfamiliar bedroom somewhere else. Another thing he notices, this time with more concern than he would be willing to admit, is that Saro's face is faintly flushing red, and shimmers with the faint moisture of wiped tears. His scales are also slightly charred and dirty from the explosion, but he seems to be relatively free of injury.

Rezel tries to alleviate his master's guilt and shame over the backfired spell. "Master, no... I..."

Saro's grip tightens and he buries his face into Rezel. "I'm so glad you're okay..."

"Master... it wasn't..."

Larun interrupts the moment. "We must not waste time. They will surely send inquisitors here when they do not find you at home. His wounds must be healed swiftly."

Pulling back, Saro nods. Fresh tears have formed on his face, and they quietly drip onto the bed as he resumes his work restoring his student's body and scales to a healthy state.

_Does... Master Saro care for me this much?_Rezel's mind wanders as he sits quietly through the procedure. While eternally grateful to Saro for teaching him the secrets of the arcane, he never really thought it went any farther than simple altruism. It seemed somehow... inappropriate, to think otherwise. But... Rezel takes a moment to consider his feelings. He knows that he sees Saro as a mentor and caretaker, as well as a close friend. Could their relationship mean more to Saro than the serpent lets on? Maybe it means more even to himself... Or...

Perhaps I am thinking too much... Rezel mentally scoffs as his thoughts on the matter are bombarded by doubts and rationalizations.

Larun kneels down beside the bed and begins to assist Saro in his task. As he does so, he addresses Rezel with his silken voice.

"I apologize, we have had little time to meet during your stay with Saro, young Rezel. I am Larun. Your master is a good friend of mine, from our days at the Academy."

"It is... a pleasure, Arcanist Larun." Rezel does his best to sound polite, though it seems that every movement causes some pain.

Larun smiles at him. "Don't strain yourself, now. Our healing magic is novice work at best, but it will do the job in time. Just lie back and relax."

Surely enough, a quiet hour passes as the two go about their work. The pain begins to lessen with every moment that Saro and Larun spend mending Rezel's flesh. At one point, Rezel lifts his head to look at his exposed body as it is healed. He is surprised and a little horrified as he sees that many parts of his body and limbs are blackened and damaged. His clothes have been mostly removed, with a loose patch of cloth covering his modesty. With hovering palms, Saro and Larun channel soft arcane energy to mend the wounds, but it takes several minutes to restore a section to its healthy, pearly-scaled state.

More time passes, with Rezel dozing occasionally as his two caretakers work on him. Eventually most of the healing on the front is done, prompting Saro to speak.

"You need to turn over, Rezel. Can you do it yourself, or do you need our help?"

"I can do it, Master."

Sure enough and with only a little trouble, Rezel flips over on the bed, exposing his backside to the pair of serpents. Leaning his head to the side, he watches out of the corner of his eye as Larun makes to exit the room.

"I must keep an eye out for anyone from the Academy. I will leave him to you, Saro."

It takes Rezel a moment to realize there is nothing covering up his rear, though there is some pain there from the explosion. The dive for cover did not spare his rump, it seems. The dragonkin swallows hard, suddenly nervous at Saro seeing him so exposed.

The master quietly goes about his business, his hands hovering over Rezel's head, legs, and back to heal the wounds, before settling near the base of his tail. Taking a moment to heal the damage done to the outside of the dragonkin's appendage, Saro hesitates as he is about to inspect underneath.

Rezel's heart begins to pound in his chest. He feels a hand rest gently on his tail.

"I... need under this... okay, Rezel?" Saro's nervousness is betrayed by his voice.

"Mhm..." Rezel can't find the words to respond. Not wanting to disobey such a simple request, he takes a moment to steel himself, and then, with great reluctance, raises his tail up slightly. Saro's hand slides underneath it, pulling it higher up and revealing everything to the suddenly bashful master. Keeping the tail up with one hand, Saro begins healing the few wounds that have managed to take form there, while trying to stay focused to dispel the other thoughts that now spin in his mind.

Rezel turns his head away from the rest of the room and faces the wall, closing his eyes tightly as his face flushes bright red. Saro's touch stirs something powerful within the student, and Rezel can't help but shift uncomfortably at the protrusion slowly making its way out from underneath him.

C... curse you, body. Why...? Rezel has to suppress a whine as his dragon-hood slowly, determinedly extends out from inside him, sandwiched between his belly and the bed underneath him. Rezel profusely thanks any and all divine he can think of for the fact that the turgid erection is hidden from view from his gentle master.

Saro has his own stirrings and urges to contend with, and an erection to match, though it is mostly concealed by the wrinkles in his robes. Thankfully so... Saro thinks, as he takes an extra few moments healing the underside of Rezel's tail, finding himself in battle with his raw, lesser desires. He slides his hand further down the tail and notices as Rezel shifts and nearly lets out a squeak. For a brief, fleeting moment, Saro entertains the fantasy of sliding onto the bed, using his hands to explore his student's figure as he slips his erection underneath the tail and inside Rezel's warm, enticing rear. Shaking his head slightly, he dismisses the thoughts and chastises himself for thinking them. I would be taking advantage... these thoughts... I should not be thinking this way.

Simultaneously, as he feels the hand glide up and down his tail, Rezel entertains a fantasy of Saro jumping onto the bed and throwing aside his robes. Taking his student in his arms and pounding against his rump in a moment of furious lust. Oh, how he would moan... but Rezel catches himself in the middle of mentally living out the fantasy, cursing himself for his disgusting, inappropriate urges. He is just healing me, nothing more... nothing more can happen.

There is a long, tense moment as the pair of them are assailed by wants and needs that they refuse to act upon, out of apprehension of the depravity of it, and fear of the other's reaction.

Eventually, with neither of them able to work up the courage to act or speak on their feelings, Saro lets the tail drop from his hand and stands awkwardly upright, still trying to disguise the eagerness between his legs. Rezel's heart sinks as his master's touch fades from his more sensitive regions, the feeling of a missed opportunity overcoming his current emotions. Suppressing a sigh, he resolves to wait for his own eagerness to fade before moving from his position on the bed.

Saro, afraid that his stirrings won't fade as long as he stays in the room, begins to step outside. Suddenly sensing the awkwardness of the scene, he turns back and speaks in a quivering voice.

"You should be okay now... but you still need rest. I... must speak with Larun."

Rezel turns his head to look at Saro, "Thank you, Master." he says quietly, almost at a whimper.

From their angles, neither one can see how much the other is blushing. Smiling despite his yearnings, Saro exits the room, leaving Rezel to his whirling thoughts.

A few moments pass as the dragonkin lies face down in silence. The fantasies about his master dance about in his head, his stubborn erection refusing to recede. Every slight motion rubs the shaft against his belly and the fabric of the bed, furthering his arousal.

D-damn it... what is wrong with me? Rezel shifts uncomfortably, the friction on his member only exciting him further. Glancing towards the door, he is relieved to notice that Saro hasclosed it behind him. Pulling up the blanket of the bed and keeping it nearby, Rezel flips onto his back, revealing his rigid erection to the open air.

Gah, I need to... relieve this. A nervous hand slides up to the quivering ebon shaft, a finger and thumb tentatively extending to touch the warm surface.

_I... don't do this very often..._Rezel's thoughts wander to his home, the dragonkin lands, his time spent there and the few times he has explored himself,before his flushing arousal brings him back to the task at hand. Scaled digits begin an electric journey from the tip of his shaft down to the very base, eliciting a shuddering moan from the young moonborn.

_I shouldn't be doing this now... what would Larun think? What would Master think?_His eager actions beliehis thoughts as his hands begin working out his arousal. A stroke of his shaft, a poke into the fleshy crevasse at the base, even an exploratory digit underneath his tail sends a ceaseless barrage of pleasure through Rezel's trembling body. He finds himself panting and grunting aloud, regardless of his mental urging to keep quiet. All the while, persistent fantasies regarding Saro flit through his mind, unbidden.

In some, they are simply embracing, holding each other close. In others, Rezel has taken it upon himself to service his master, bringing pleasure through his soft, wet mouth upon the serpent's throbbing cock. In yet other fantasies, Rezel is fully mounted, with Saro pushing inch after inch of his shaft into Rezel's willing rear, or simply pounding away, the sound of slapping scales clear in Rezel's mind. Each and every fantasy causes the dragonkin to whimper and whine with desire as he rapidly pushes himself to a messy finish. That final thought causes him to pause.

I... I can't make a mess... He glances around the room, looking for a suitable location to leave his fluids. No, I can't do it anywhere in here, or in a cloth... Larun would find out and know... if only I could sneak outside...

An errant stroke of his hand causes Rezel to squirm as he nears closer to release. He looks around the room once more, but in vain, and his eyes settle onto his engorged member.

I... suppose there's only one place it can all go, then...

Sighing, not entirely pleased by the prospect, but not overly disgusted by it either, Rezel shifts his position, turning sideways towards the wall against the far side of the bed and using his legs to prop himself up against it. After a few moments of awkward shuffling and panting, he finally comes to rest with his member dangling directly above his snout. Using one hand to support his upside-down position, he uses his other to continue stroking himself.

The blood begins rushing to his head, causing his hearing to be muffled by the pressure. Rezel's scaly hand glides up and down his shaft, pounding it with a growing intensity as his body begins to reach its climax. His grunts and moans sound strange now, higher pitched and muffled in this odd position, but he pays no mind as he feels the onrush of his finish.

"Aaahhh-!" Rezel cries out quietly, despite his feeble attempts to keep himself silent. He narrows his eyes to slits and opens his mouth, using his shaking hand to point his shaft at his gaping maw. Overwhelming waves of pleasure surge through him and he thrusts his hips involuntarily, causing the first spurt to splatter on his nose.

Undaunted but now being rocked by his orgasm, Rezel tenses himself completely as the next rope of semen is guided directly into his mouth. And then the next, and then another. The warm, salty gobs of seed slide around his mouth and tongue, with Rezel finding himself yet unable to swallow while in this position and while being assailed by the intense feelings of bliss. Another dollop of cum splashes into his mouth, and he feels his orgasm begin to wane. His shaft throbs and twitches, dribbling more droplets of seed into the waiting muzzle. Squeezing and stroking with his hand, Rezel milks himself for every last drop, and the heat of his arousal mercifully begins to fade.

Breathing heavily through his nostrils, his senses are assaulted with the strong smell of his own essence. Letting his body fall onto his side, Rezel lets out a long, relieved sigh as he stretches out onto the bed, though unfortunately, he still has a mouthful of semen.

Ugh...

No longer gripped byhis own desire, the thought of drinking his own seed now disgusts him moreso than excites him. Still, with little other option, he spends a moment swishing the sticky fluid with his tongue before closing his eyes tightly and swallowing. It slides down his gullet, though a slimy residue seems to cling to the back of his throat.

"Blah!" Sticking his tongue out and making a face, Rezel takes the cloth that had once covered his modesty and uses it to wipe the small glob of semen that landed on his snout. He also wipes off any remaining residue from his hands andmember before it completely retreats back inside him.

I guess it couldn't be helped after all... I got rid of a lot though. Hopefully he won't notice the ah, remainder. Tossing the cloth aside, Rezel stands up from the bed and walks over to a folded pile of cloth. Inspecting it, he finds that it is another set of robes, most likely leftout for him. The ones he was wearing were likely shredded in the blast.

Was I... naked while I was brought here?

As his mind wanders to the backfire that injured him, he looks over his body, surprised at how well the pair of serpents healed him. He feels no pain at all now, and his scales are all as pearly-white as they were before. He idly wonders how long it's been since the explosion.

Donning the robes and finding they fit quite snugly, Rezel sits back down on the bed and beginswaitingpatiently for his master to return.

---

Stepping into the lavatory of Larun's house, Saro closes the door behind him and slides down onto the flat wooden ring serving as the toilet. Barely able to contain himself, he tears desperately at his robes, unravelling them at the front and causing his pink erection to flop out into the open air.

Gods... how many times have I done this now? Saro muses as his hands go about their routine task, poking and stroking his slender, pulsating shaft. The picture of Rezel's exposed rear causes his arousal to blaze brightly as he searches for some much-needed relief.

_I am sorry, little Rezel. I am ashamed to do this while thinking of you..._Ignoring his melancholy feelings, he pushes heedlessly towards his finish, desperate to simply be relieved of these stirrings. Digits stroking, twisting, and poking, Saro skillfully pleasures himself and rapidly approaches his desired relief. Jolt after jolt of ecstasy rolls through his body with every touch and pull. His mind is fully occupied by the persistent image of Rezel's naked form, each curve in the young dragonkin's body serving to further excite his master.

As he was carrying him from his home after the blast, the robes his student was wearing had been mostly burned away, leaving a... stirring view. Despite the burned and charred scales around it, the area between the dragonkin's legs... the slightly bulging area of his slitted genitals, had been left unscathed. Saro had no time to admire such things; his heart was pounding with worry rather than arousal at the time. But now...

I am sorry Rezel... I am so sorry. I am weak and depraved. Forgive me... His thoughts run opposite his actions, as the tempting slit, bulge, and puckering rear of Rezel send Saro head over heels into his climax.

Standing straight up and leaning over the empty water basin in the small bathroom, Saro bites his lip to keep himself quiet as he sends ropes of ivory seed towards the grated drain at the bottom of the bowl. Quiet squeaks and muted grunts involuntarily escape from him as he explodes out in surge after surge of pleasure, with the image of his handsome young apprentice always in his mind. His orgasm flares in intensity, and then winds down, the final drops of sticky fluid dribbling out of the tapered cock.

Panting quietly and finally rid of the burden of his arousal, Saro stares at the deposit of his seed slowly making its way down the basin and into the drain. Feeling a sharp pang of guilt, he sighs aloud, snapping his fingers to create a small spritz of water to wash away his shame. Unfortunately, it does little to wash away the disgrace that has taken the place of his arousal.

Waiting a brief moment for his flesh to finish receding back inside of him, Saro refits his robe and, sighing again, exits through the door.

---

Walking into the foyer, the only place in Larun's home that is not warded against scrying magics, Saro approaches Larun. The slender green serpent holds a hand before him, his eyes lined with a faint azure luminescence as he peers through space with his minds eye. Despite concentrating deeply on his spell, Larun nods to acknowledge Saro's presence.

"Is he doing alright?" Larun inquires, his attention half focused on his scrying.

"I healed everything, I think..." Saro says, almost biting his tongue at those last two words.

"You think?" Larun turns his head to look at Saro, his eyes still glowing faintly blue.

Saro shuffles nervously, still ashamed at his feelings, and his discreet actions. Larun presses further.

"Did you... get distracted?" Saro could almost swear that Larun sounds... disappointed. Turning aside, away from his friends gaze, Saro doesn't answer.

Larun hesitates for a moment, thoughts and inquiries rolling through his mind. He saw how Saro reacted to Rezel's more... private regions. He saw how his scales turned red with arousal and excitement at the bare body of the young dragonkin, even if the flushing master didn't realize it himself immediately.

He had some time to ponder where the feelings that Saro has for Rezel come from, and what they may possibly mean for the two... and for himself. With a quick, resigned sigh, Larun settles on a single question.

"Do you... have feelings for him?"

Saro winces. He could dodge the question, saying he has the feelings any teacher would have for a good student. Or perhaps that he enjoys Rezel's company and respects his talent. But he knows what Larun is really asking, and out of respect of their long-term friendship, he deserves a straight answer.

"... Yes..." Saro's voice is shaky, uncertain at first. But after he hears it in his own words, his resolve is bolstered, even if only a little. "I do."

It's almost a relief saying it aloud, as if he was admitting it to himself as much as Larun. However, Larun's reaction is less than Saro expected. His friend simply sighs again, his eyes losing their azure illumination as he closes them tightly.

Unknown to Saro, emotions and regrets now roil through Larun's mind, picking up traction upon hearing those words from Saro himself. As he sorts through his thoughts, a distasteful feeling spreads throughout him. The feeling of jealousy. It is a bitter, tragic feeling, and it spreads like a poison. But Larun knows himself better than to surrender to it. Opening his eyes, he looks over at his friend. His close, kindhearted friend. The one serpent that Larun had ever gotten close to... although never as close as Larun had always wanted. Even now, as things stand, as Larun looks into Saro's eyes, he cannot ignore the stirrings in his heart. The stirrings he never acted on, never pursued. And now, never will.

After a long moment of silence, Larun turns back and resumes his scrying. Saro felt the weight of his words upon Larun, and even moreso the silence that followed. He looks away once again, uncertain of what he should say next.

Neither of them have long to ponder the moment. Larun gasps aloud and begins gesturing with his hand, his eyes darting about as he magically scans the area.

"They are coming!"

Saro looks at his friend with alarm. "Inquisitors?"

"Yes..." Larun's eyes lose their luminescence once again and he looks directly at Saro. "I cannot protect you if they find you here. You must go out through the rear! You must elude them!"

Saro springs into action, his heart pounding with fear. "I will fetch Rezel, meet us at the back entrance!"

"We have only a moment! I must remain at the front to delay them."

Saro turns back and steps toward his friend, wrapping him in a quick, tight hug. "Larun, I..."

Larun returns the embrace, but then pushes Saro away. "Please... you must hurry. Good luck, dear Saro."

Saro nods, and rushes towards the room where Rezel waits. As he turns down the hallway, he hears Larun greet the inquisitors.

"There is no need to bang so loud, I can hear you. Why do you call on me, Lord Werghel?"

In contrast to Larun's soft, clear voice, the one that Saro hears after is gruff and impatient.

"You know why we are here, Arcanist Larun. Do not patronize us. We have reason to believe that Ex-Arcanist Saro and the dragonkin under his care have come here, after suffering a dragonfire-related backfire in their home. Step aside, so we may search the abode."

"That is hardly necessary, Lord High Inquisitor, I know they-" There is a grunting sound and a loud thump, followed by footsteps entering the house.

"Lord Werghel, there is no need for violence-!"

Saro pushes the rest of the sounds out of his head, fearing for Larun and desperate to get out of the house.

---

The pair dash through the streets, moving with due haste while trying to remain inconspicuous. They make an indirect path to the southern gates. The western gate may be a closer and quicker route out of the city, but the inquisitors likely assumed that they would go through there in the event that they tried to escape. Saro and Rezel both glance around fearfully, assuming that every civilian has been instructed to turn them in. Most take no notice, but some do glance warily at them.

We will go south for a while, and then turn west and head to the sea. If we can't get a ship, we may have to stow away in one. Or perhaps we could go southeast into Genket territory? Would they grant us asylum?

Saro is lost in thought as he considers their options. The thought of him leaving his entire life behind does not even cross his mind yet, as it is too occupied by their escape from Eyrios. Rezel simply follows his master, trusting him implicitly and hoping that he will lead them to safety, resolving to keep his head down and his eyes open for anyone following them.

Neither of the pair notice the small group of white-robed figures that moves to block them as they round a corner into an intersection. As Saro approaches them, he tries to simply slip by, but one of them pulls their hood down and loudly declares:

"Ex-Arcanist Saro. Outsider Rezel. By order of the Auroran Inquisition, you are to accompany us for our investigation."

Saro stops with a start, only a few feet away from the nearest white-robes, who hold out their hands, spells at the ready.

"No choice, Rezel, we must go through." Saro's voice echoes with grim determination as he begins weaving a spell.

"Do not resist. If you do not comply, we will assume you intend to escape justice."

"Here's your justice!" Saro says, flinging a barrage of violet missiles at the nearest inquisitors. Both of the robes figures throw up an arcane barrier, harmlessly absorbing every blast, but giving Saro and Rezel enough time to slip past. As if expecting this move, the other inquisitors launch a vicious salvo of kinetic energy at the duo. Saro spins and calls up an arcane shield, but the force of the blasts easily shatter it. In the split second before the blasts can reach them, Rezel summons a barrier of his own, angling it towards the sky. One blast impacts it and is redirected harmlessly upwards. The second also soars skyward after hitting the shield, but the third overwhelms the amateur barrier, blowing through it and knocking the pair off their feet.

The two struggle to regain their feet but are pushed down by some of the inquisitors as they hold the two to the ground with a crushing magical weight, pinning their limbs to the stone as the other robed figures approach them, preparing spells of dazing.

"I'm sorry... Master... if I hadn't have come..." Rezel strains to speak under the spell.

"Rezel..." Tears begin flowing down Saro's face, his hopes of escape unceremoniously crushed.

An inquisitor places a palm on each of their heads, unleashing the dazing spells into their minds. Everything becomes a blur for the two, their minds practically placed into stasis. In this state, they don't notice the shadowy figure that now accompanies the inquisitors as they carry the two towards the Academy for judgement.

---

"Do you understand the weight of your crimes, Ex-Arcanist Saro?"

The female serpent wearing the robes of Supreme Magi looks down on the guilty master and student, her voice ringing clear with authority and severity.

"Yes. I do, Archlady Nithera."

"Do you realize the normal punishment for directly disobeying our laws and our conduct?"

"I do. I am prepared for whatever is deemed necessary." The former arcanist would rather complain, speak out at the frivolity of their law. The hypocrisy of their creed. 'Knowledge for all in Serysia.' indeed...

"Outsider Rezel. Do you understand your position?"

"I..." Rezel's voice is quiet but grim. "Why are you doing this? His teachings were harmless-"

"His teachings were unsanctioned and unmoderated." Nithera's voice rises in tone. "In addition, he proceeded to teach you even as the Academy itself turned you away. A fact that he was aware of from the beginning! Such behavior makes me believe that you two think yourself beyond our rules. And that is simply not true."

"I apologize for my disobedience, Archlady Nithera." Saro speaks up, "I accept responsibility. Please, do not punish the child. He is innocent in this."

"He knew just as well as you of your misdeeds. He is not innocent."

Saro opens his mouth to speak further, but knows that would be futile. He has tried to keep himself composed for this whole proceeding, in front of the many Arcanists and Lords in Eyrios. But he feels himself slipping, his eyes glisten with moisture at the hopeless situation, a pit forming in his stomach in fear of what may come of their indiscretion.

Rezel simply watches and says little, his conscience weighed down by a heavy, crushing guilt. If only he wasn't such a child... wanting to impress his master with dragonfire spells. If only he did not cause that explosion... they could still be at home, laughing and chatting over dinner.

"If you have nothing else to say, I will continue." The Archlady looks the pair over and, satisfied that they will not interrupt, continues with her judgement.

"Normally, such a crime would see you both imprisoned for many years..." Nithera begins, "...but in this instance, things will be slightly different."

Saro doesn't even let himself begin to hope at those words. Rezel looks on with a dark curiosity, wondering what sort of ironic, twisted punishment they may have in mind.

"By a special request, Outsider Rezel will be allowed to leave Serysian lands. He will return to the place of his birth and shall not enter Serysia again, else he will serve out his proper sentence in our prisons."

_Special request?_Saro can hardly believe his ears. Rezel will be able to leave! His own punishment seems nothing as long as Rezel remains free, even if the young dragonkin must return home.

"However, I cannot be so lenient with Ex-Arcanist Saro. He will serve out the entire forty-year sentence, and as he is no longer an active member of the Academy, will be stripped of his magical knowledge so that he will not be able to disregard our laws once again."

Rezel's mouth opens wide. Such a long sentence... and so cruel to strip him of magic. He tries to suppress a whine, but sees Saro's relieved face.

I don't care about my own freedom, Master... Rezel thinks as he considers his future back in the Empire, away from Saro.I just want to be with you. It takes him a moment to realize the meaning behind that thought, but it fills him with a great sadness and loneliness.

"Archlady Nithera, I wish to vouch for Saro." The crowd turns to look at Larun, who has stood up from his seat.

"Arcanist Larun, you should feel fortunate that you are not sharing a cell with him. You harbored him and his apprentice and impeded the inquisitors sent to retrieve him."

"I know, Archlady, and I apologize for my actions. But Saro is young and talented and has much to offer the world yet. It is a shame to lock one away, and to squander such ability so readily."

"What are you suggesting, Arcanist Larun?"

"Allow him to leave as well. Exile is preferable to imprisonment. Saro's character is not in question; he will cause no harm outside of Serysia. In addition, I believe that, due to the fact that Rezel is already versed in the arcane, his teachings should be completed. An untrained novice mage is more dangerous than a trained one."

Nithera ponders this for a moment, causing the audience to watch with burgeoning intensity. After several moments, she answers: "You speak the truth, Arcanist Larun. Saro has been a loyal, respectful citizen until now. His record of service is not forgotten. Would that we could simply strip his student of his arcane knowledge, but as we have discovered, the dragonkin are immune to such things. Your suggestion holds weight."

You wouldn't be able to notice it from looking at him, but Larun lets out a big, mental sigh of relief.

Nithera continues. "As you know, we strive to make sure our knowledge of the arcane is controlled and stable. While I dislike the aspect that they will be able to continue the very crime that brought them before us, I agree with your suggestion, Larun."

Again, Saro can hardly believe his ears.

"But know this!" Nithera booms, as if to curtail his excitement. "You are not to spread the knowledge of the arcane any further than your student. If either of you instructs another, the Umbra will know, and you will receive the only punishment such reckless actions would warrant. Death."

The final word echoes in the chamber, leaving an ominous silence in its wake.

"Thank you, Archlady, for your mercy." Larun's voice is noticeably less tense, despite the threatening words that preceded him.

Nithera looks up at Larun once again, her voice severe. "Arcanist Larun. Your role in this is not forgotten. You will speak with me in my chambers, to discuss the terms of your resignation from the Academy. You are not to leave the city. Consider my heeding your suggestion as a final gesture of respect for your service."

Swallowing hard, Larun nods. "Yes, Archlady..."

Saro looks up at Larun. Resignation...?Look at what my friendship has cost him... he will be unwelcome in the Academy, perhaps even lose his arcane powers... and I may never see him again.

"Thus, that is my judgement. Exile Saro and Outsider Rezel, you will leave Serysia, and never return. You are both very fortunate to not be rotting in prison. Do not make me regret my decision."

---

"You seemed awfully eager to spare Saro from his true punishment, Archlady."

The older serpent, just reaching the twilight of her life, turns to face her shadowy guest. Her scales, once a scintillating silver, have turned to a dull grey, though they remain pristine and smooth despite her age. For those observant enough or sensitive to such things, one could perceive a faint, almost hidden aura of power radiating from the Supreme Magi. It is enough to intimidate, but not oppress.

"Imprisonment solves few issues, but I must typically abide by our laws, perhaps more frequently than I would like. Larun's suggestion offered me an alternative, as unorthodox as it is."

The snout poking out of the shadowy hood flashes its teeth in a smile. "Indeed. The other Archlords and Archladies may not approve of your decision, though."

Nithera scoffs aloud. "They have little choice. I am Supreme Magi here, there is little more they can do than stomp and whine."

"I agree with your judgement, Archlady. And your position is well earned."

"Yes, if only Orean and Palias would think that way, we would have a united Academy." She chuckles at this, as if the notion was silly.

"Perhaps one day, Nithera." The smile subtly turns into a grin.

"Hmm..." Nithera grunts to dismiss that line of discussion before changing the subject. "I assume the Umbra are pleased then? Little Rezel gets to go home."

"Yes. I'm glad to see that. His father is worried about him. Saro accompanying him may do him some good as well."

Nithera throws up her hands before smiling at her guest. "Then all is well! Will you be staying in Eyrios for long?"

"No. I have other duties. You surely have better things to do than entertain me, anyways."

Now it's Nithera's turn to grin. "You would be surprised."

The figure lets out a short chuckle. "Thank you, Archlady Nithera." He offers a short bow before turning away.

"Take care. And send my regards to Satu. Tell him to come by once in a while."

"I will."

Smiling, the figure steps into a nearby shadow and melts into it, vanishing from sight.

---

No less than a dozen guards accompany Saro and Rezel as they are escorted through the streets of Eyrios. They were given the opportunity to collect their valuables and equipment from their home, and now they are being taken to the west gate. They are left unbound and un-handled, but it is clear that the guards want them out of the city as soon as possible.

"The Supreme Magi was too lenient with you two. You should both be rotting." Inquisitor Werghel had opted to accompany the escort, out of a sense of duty. Although it appears he is unsatisfied with the Archlady's judgement, and isn't shy about voicing his concern.

"And nobody mentioned your resisting arrest. How strange!" The bulky reptile narrows his eyes at the pair, his short, spiky muzzle seemingly pulled into a permanent sneer.

Saro is already having his patience tested by this vile lizard. "Lord Werghel, Archlady Nithera has made her judgement. If you have a problem, speak with her."

Werghel glares and mutters under his breath. "My inquisitors... catch you just to release you... no honor... folly."

Saro ignores the spiteful reptile, keeping his eyes straight ahead as the group approaches the gate.

The towering metal doors, left open for the midday trading caravans, symbolize a passage to a new, unknown life for Saro. He has done little travelling in his life, and while he is skilled in the arcane, he is fearfully uneducated in matters of nature, geography, and wilderness survival. It is a strange feeling to find himself relying on Rezel's experience now.

Rezel, looking gloomy at the prospect of returning home, nonetheless plans out the journey in his head. For the most part, it is a simple return trip through the towns he had passed through on his way to the Academy here. He wonders if his escorts would allow him to hitch a ride on a caravan heading west.

The guards array themselves around the gate, and usher the two outside the city. As he takes his first steps outside the walls, Saro finds himself wishing to speak to Larun. He never had an opportunity after the proceedings took place, and would like to have spoken to his friend one last time. To apologize, if nothing else.

Alas, it seems he will not get that chance.

Both master and student begin walking down the long, winding highway that connects the city of Eyrios to the city of Benera to the west, the first stop on their journey to cross the sea. Rezel, eager to simply begin the trip and get away from Eyrios, decides to abandon his plan of riding along with a caravan. That would also serve his interest of having peace and quiet... and time alone with Saro.

They simply walk, side by side, for several hours. The heat of the sun would be unpleasant, if it were not for the stiff breeze that rolls across the rough fields on either side of the road. The ground rises up and falls back down in a natural undulation encompassing the highway with obscuring hills. In these quiet moments, both Rezel and Saro ponder the events that have just transpired. Neither of them speak for some time, but both are deeply relieved to still be with one another.

The sun, having reached its apex hours ago, begins to sink low into the sky, painting the surrounding fields of short twisted grass a shade of blazing orange. A few trading caravans have come and gone, exchanging little more than pleasantries and leaving the two travellers on foot and alone.

Saro, suddenly yearning for conversation, asks something that he has pondered for some time. "Rezel... you never told me how you learned the Serysian tongue."

Rezel, although pleased to have something to talk about, speaks softly, the memories somewhat unpleasant. "Oh. I had a friend that taught me. Or... a friend of my fathers, actually."

"Is that so?" This piques Saro's curiosity. "Tell me about him."

Rezel sighs, becoming oddly evasive as the topic drifts to his father. "He was... nobody important. He offered to teach, I accepted. I was young and curious. It was fortunate in the end, I suppose."

"You never speak of your family..."

Rezel sighs again, dark thoughts brewing in his mind. "I am sorry, Master. I left my home for a reason. I have tried to push them from my mind."

"Why? They have raised you to be who you are, have they not? They have done an admirable job."

Rezel blushes slightly, but brushes the compliment aside. "Heh. That's not how it works in the nursery. I was raised by many females, though I am told I was one of the last ones to be brought up like that. They made me who I am, not my mother... and not my father." A shadow passes over his face again at the mention of his father.

"Do you... love your parents?"

Rezel walks along in silence, the discussion causing him to fold himself inwards. After a while, he speaks quietly. "I don't know."

Saro leaves the topic aside, fearing that he has stirred up unnecessary negativity in the young dragonkin. Though he knows better than to press further, he longs to comfort his companion, to understand his past and his pain.

A few more hours pass. The sun casts a few fading rays of light onto the environment as it suffers its last moments on the horizon. The spreading darkness puts both Saro and Rezel on edge, and Rezel recalls why he took a caravan to Eyrios in the first place.

It's hard to believe bandits can exist so far in Serysia. We should have taken a caravan. He keeps a hand on the hilt of his sword, one of the few things he brought over from his home in the dragonkin lands.

As the pair enter into another encompassing pair of hills that border the road, they keep their eyes along the ridge line, scanning for anything out of the ordinary. Rezel's heart sinks as he spots two figures atop the nearest hill.

"Master, up there. Two. Ready yourself." He draws his sword, the sound ringing through the air.

Saro can barely register the strange feeling of taking orders from his student as he holds his hands aloft, his mind going through a small list of spells that he can hold at the ready. The two figures look down on them, the dwindling light reflected in their beady eyes. They cry out in broken, guttural Serysian.

"Pair, alone! Take!"

Saro hears battlecries behind him and spins to face them, only to be greeted by the crack of a stone to his snout. Reeling back, dazed, he feels a warm fluid flow from his nostrils and drip down into the dirt.

"Master! On both sides!" With his free hand, Rezel calls an arcane barrier, just in time to deflect a second sling stone aimed at his own head.

"Cursed... how can they aim so well?" Saro blows the blood out of his nose and calls magic to his hands. In one, a hovering shield similar to Rezel's. In the other, a triplet of violet projectiles take form. With a quick thrust of his hand, the missiles soar to the crest of the hill in front of him. Two of them impact the grass harmlessly, flaring the area with fleeting light. The third catches an unfortunate victim in the side as he charges down the hill. The force sends him tumbling down towards the highway, head over heels.

Despite the stars dancing in his vision during the momentary flash of light, Saro could see no less than four figures charging down at them. With word and a whip of his hand, a jet of flame shoots from his fingertips, sticking to the ground a few feet in front of him and taking shape as a shoulder-high wall of fire.

"That should - what!?" Saro's confidence in his spell is disrupted by the sight of three bipedal creatures leaping over the flames, their figures lit up by the light of the flame. They are covered in light orange fur underneath their hide armor, each one sporting a pointed snout with a black nose. Their eyes glow red with reflected light, their muzzles pulled up into a vicious growl.

Vulpines. Of course, they can see in the dark. Saro begins to ready another spell to combat these immediate foes.

Rezel whirls his blade and catches the edge of a dagger with it. Pushing the attacking weapon aside, he steps forward and delivers a stunning thrust kick to his opponent and hears the strike knock the wind out of them. The military training from his people, while mandatory, is quite useful in a situation like this. The Vulpines are scrappy, but relatively untrained, leaving little challenge in a one-on-one contest. Of course, these are hardly one to one odds.

Saro launches a spray of flames at his aggressors, hoping to set their fur on fire. For one of the attackers, this becomes a reality. He ignites in flame, screaming and wailing with high pitched yips as he rolls around in agony. However, the two remaining foes close on in Saro, giving him little time to ready another spell. The closest one leaps at him, teeth bared and weapon ready, but Saro thrusts a palm out seconds before contact, sending the creature soaring away with a blast of kinetic force.

The second one springs on him, and Saro finds himself defenseless, his shield left foolishly too far away to deflect a blow from this close. The edge of a dagger cuts across his snout, adding to the blood flowing down his chin from the earlier impact. A closed fist follows the trail of the dagger before Saro can react, the punch knocking him senseless and off his feet.

Rezel hears the heavy thump of a body and a grunt of pain and turns to see Saro's attacker perched atop him, readying another attack.

"Master!" Forgoing the actual casting of a spell, Rezel wills a lance of dragonflame from his hand, the scorching bolt impacting the vicious fox and sending him away from Saro, fire blazing through its fur.

That brief moment of seized attention is all it took. A well-aimed sling stone catches the dragonkin in the back of the head and he falls to the ground, his vision suddenly murky and rimmed in black.

The Vulpine have no time to celebrate their victory. The shadow of the hills takes form and leaps out at them, black blades slicing through the night air.

The three bandits near their two prone victims are mercilessly cut down, their throats slit, their hearts pierced. None of the bandits even realize what is happening as their lives end one by one. The sole bandit remaining on the top of the hill witnesses his companions' sudden deaths to this shadow and, with a cry of terror, turns tail to flee. He does not make it a single step away before his own shadow sinks an ebon blade into his flesh, snuffing his life out in an instant.

Rezel comes back to his senses with a dark, imposing figure standing over him. Upon noticing his gaze, the shadow speaks.

"You should have taken a caravan."

Rezel has no time to reply as the shadow melts away into nothingness.