The morning sun cast long shadows across my garden, dappling the cobblestones with patterns of light and shadow. Little Shadow perched on my shoulder, it's tiny form vibrating with excitement, as it always did at the start of a new day. Tavalor was headed out for his morning ritual a the Gilded Hearth when a commotion from the far corner of the garden caught his attention.

  At first, Tavalor thought it might be another assassination attempt—they had become tediously common since the Miragos incident—but this was something altogether different.

  One of Tavalor’s prized ornamental shrubs was spinning in place, uprooted from the soil, its branches waving wildly as if possessed. More bizarrely, it seemed to be... talking?

  'Get it off! Get it off!' the plant shrieked, voice distinctly feminine and familiar. 'This wasn't supposed to happen!'

  Tavalor approached cautiously, Little Shadow darting ahead to investigate. The plant hurled a clod of dirt at me, which Tavalor sidestepped easily.

  'Luneth?' Tavalor called, recognising the voice despite its botanical prison. 'Is that you?'

  The plant ceased its spinning momentarily. 'Tavalor? Oh, thank the Two Moons. I'm stuck!'

  Tavalor sighed, realising what had happened. Another one of Luneth's alchemy experiments had gone awry. It seemed the Moon Elf's quest to refine the perfect pill was producing increasingly unpredictable results.

  'How exactly did you manage this?' Tavalor asked, circling the animated shrub.

  Before she could answer, a splashing sound drew his attention to the ornamental pond. To Tavalor’s astonishment, a fish leapt from the water and landed on the stone path. But this was no ordinary fish. It had legs. Human legs. Human hands.

  Everything else was fish.

  How strange? Tavalor thought. A fishman?

  The fish-man stood upright, its scales gleaming in the morning sunlight. It opened its mouth and released a triumphant laugh.

  'Haha! I've done it!' it declared, flexing quite generous biceps.

  Tavalor started dumbfounded: 'Hey, where'd you come from?'

  The fish-man turned towards me, its bulging eyes blinking: 'Where'd you come from.'

  Where'd you come from?' the fish repeated, its voice and inflection identical to mine.

  'Where'd you come from?' it said again.

  Little Shadow flitted around the creature, poking it curiously.

  It dawned on me—Luneth hadn't just transmutated herself into a plant; she'd somehow created a magical recorder in the form of a fish with legs and arms.

  Tavalor turned to the spinning shrub. 'Luneth, what exactly were you trying to accomplish?'

  'A [Comprehension Pill]!' the plant wailed. 'Something to enhance magical understanding. I must have mixed up the essence of echo lily with reflexive mandrake!'

  The fish-man suddenly darted past us, moving with surprising speed on its stubby legs. 'Haha! I've done it!' it shouted again, racing toward the garden gate.

  'Stop it!' Luneth cried. 'That thing will just repeat everything it hears!'

  But it was too late. The fish-man squeezed through the gate and disappeared into the streets of Vallenport.

  Little Shadow and Tavalor exchanged a glance, amusement apparent even in the shadow creature's featureless visage.

  'Should we go after it?' Tavalor asked, already knowing the answer.

  Little Shadow chirped negatively, settling back onto his shoulder.

  'You're right,' Tavalor agreed. 'Could be entertaining.'Heturned back to the animated shrub. 'Now, let's see about getting you out of there, shall we?'

  ***

  Meanwhile, the fishman darted through the morning market, its stubby legs carrying it with remarkable speed. It paused behind a stall where two merchants were engaged in hushed conversation.

  'Did you hear about the Duke, Lorenzo?' the merchant whispered to his companion. 'They say he's been embezzling from the royal treasury for years. Build that summer home in the mountains with stolen gold!'

  The fish-man's eyes widened. 'Did you hear about the Duke?' it repeated loudly, perfectly mimicking the merchant's conspiratorial tone. 'They say he's been embezzling from the royal treasury for years. Built that summer home with stolen gold!'

  The merchant whirled around, face pale. 'Who said that?'

  His eyes landed on the fish-man, mouth still moving. 'Catch that fish!' he shouted, lunging forward.

  The fish-man darted away, racing past another pair of merchants.

  'And I Kavar, am the one who scammed him,' the second merchant was saying with a chuckle. 'He'll never know it was me who switched those gemstones.'

  The fish-man slowed just enough to absorb this information before continuing its sprint. 'And I Kavar, am the one who scammed him! He'll never know it was me who switched those gemstones!'

  The second merchant's face drained of colour. 'Who was that?' he gasped, rushing outside to see the fish-man disappearing around a corner.

  As it ran, the fish-man began to demonstrate a fascinating evolution. Its recording capabilities were expanding. What had started as simple mimicry was developing into a more complex pattern. Now it was storing sentences, repeating them one after another in the exact order and tone it had heard them.

  'Did you hear about the Duke, Lorenzo? They say he's been embezzling from the royal treasury for years. Built that summer home with stolen gold! And I Kavar, am the one who scammed him! He'll never know it was me who switched those gemstones!'

  A crowd began to form, drawn by the bizarre sight of a talking fish and the even more enticing prospect of fresh gossip. The fish-man raced through the Noble District, its repertoire growing with each overheard conversation.

  'Lady Penworth is having an affair with her gardener!'

  'The wine merchant is watering down his stock!'

  'I've been falsifying tax records for three years now!'

  By the time it reached the Scholars' Quarter, a substantial mob was in pursuit. The fish-man darted between the legs of surprised academics, picking up snippets about plagiarised research and falsified experimental results.

  With each new revelation, more people joined the chase, some desperate to silence the creature, others simply curious about what scandalous information it might reveal next.

  Vallenport, usually so orderly and composed, was descending into chaos—all because of a magically enhanced, talking fish with legs.

  ***

  Tavalor returned to Luneth's room later that day, having successfully extracted her from the ornamental shrub. Her laboratory was its usual disaster—vials bubbling with questionable substances, scrolls scattered across every surface, and a caged bird that seemed to be slowly turning transparent.

  Luneth looked up from her workbench, her glasses sparkling with that manic gleam that always preceded either a breakthrough or an explosion. Usually the latter.

  'I've done it!' she exclaimed, holding up a small, glowing pill. 'The comprehension enhancement worked! Also,' she added casually, 'I launched a talking fish.'

  This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

  Tavalor raised an eyebrow. 'I noticed.'

  She ignored his dry tone, too excited about her success. 'Watch this!' She plucked a seed from a nearby jar and swallowed the pill herself. Almost immediately, her eyes widened. 'I understand now! The resonance frequencies of magical matrices are directly proportional to their etheric vibration patterns!'

  She grabbed one of the caged birds and fed it a different pill. The poor creature made a distressed squawk before suddenly... exploding. Not violently, but rather, it burst into a fine white mist that settled over all the other birds in their cages.

  One by one, each bird turned completely white.

  'Hm,' Luneth said, adjusting her glasses. 'That wasn't supposed to happen.'

  Tavalor stared at the newly monochromatic aviary. 'You don't say.'

  'But the comprehension pill worked!' she insisted, holding up another one. 'Want to try?'

  'I think I'll pass,' Tavalor replied, edging toward the door. 'By the way, your fish is causing quite a stir in the city.'

  Luneth waved a dismissive hand. 'It can't do any real harm. It'll just keep repeating things until someone catches it.'

  'That's precisely the problem,' Tavalor pointed out. 'It's repeating everything it hears. Including secrets people would prefer to keep... well, secret.'

  Luneth blinked, the implications slowly dawning on her. 'Oh.'

  'Oh indeed,' Tavalor echoed.

  ***

  The Gilded Hearth was unusually crowded. Tavalor had arrived a bit later than usual because of the fishman. He managed to claim his usual window seat, but the café was buzzing with excited chatter, centred around one topic: the talking fish.

  Brenna brought Tavalor's usual—blue Calming Brew and a starfruit muffin—with a knowing smile. 'Quite the commotion out there today,' she remarked.

  Tavalor slipped his brew, feigning ignorance. 'Oh?'

  'A fish with legs, repeating everyone's secrets,' she said, eyes twinkling. 'Half the city's in an uproar. The other half's laughing themselves silly.'

  Through the window, Tavalor could see people running in the street, shouting and pointing. Curiosity got the better of me. Tavalor discreetly cast [Dragon's Eye], projecting his magical vision out to follow the chaos.

  The fishman had gained quite a following. It now moved with the speed and agaility of an [A-Class] creature, effortlessly evading its pursuers. Little Shadow had taken an interest. He had slipped away to follow the commotion up close, darting between shadows to stay hidden while enjoying the spectacle.

  The Adventurers Guild had officially issued a mission to capture the fish, with a substantial reward attached. This transformed the chase into a competitive event, with adventurers of all ranks joining the pursuit.

  Tavalor even recognised a familiar face. Mara from the Iron Tides. She was among them, cursing colourfully as the fish-man slipped through her grasp, leaving her with nothing but a handful of scales and a tirade of embarrassing secrets it had collected from the Noble Quarter.

  'The Minister's son is actually the stable boy's child!'

  'I've been selling fake healing potions for ten years!'

  'The Duke's magical sword is just a cheap enchantment from the market district!'

  Each revelation caused gasps and outrage, fuelling the growing chaos. The fish-man seemed to take perverse delight in its role, deliberately pausing near groups of people to deliver its accumulated gossip before darting away again.

  City guards had joined the chase now, their discipline failing as the fish-man repeated their private comments about superiors and confessions of bribe-taking.

  Tavalor chuckled into his brew, extending his [Dragon's Eye] to follow the unfolding drama. The fish-man was leading its pursuers on a merry chase through the Grand Canal, occasionally diving into the water only to emerge elsewhere, its repertoire of secrets growing with each encounter.

  It was, Tavalor had to admit, the most entertainment Vallenport had seen for a while.

  ***

  A thunderous explosion shook the manor, rattling windows and sending Little Shadow into a defensive posture. Tavalor didn't flinch. It was the third such blast today.

  Tavalor was in the garden, idly playing catch with a fireball for Little Shadow's amusement when Luneth emerged from her smoke-filled chamber, coughing and waving her hand in front of her face.

  'What's going on with all the noise in the city?' she asked, apparently oblivious to the irony of her question while standing amidst the aftermath of her latest explosion.

  'You did that,' Tavalor replied, catching the fireball and extinguishing it with a closed fist.

  Luneth blinked. 'I did that? No.'

  'I don't think you're meant for pill refinement,' Tavalor observed mildly.

  'No, I can't stop,' she insisted, her expression hardening with determination. 'It's for my family honour.'

  'What about this situation?' Tavalor gestured vaguely toward the city, where the sounds of the ongoing fish-chase could still be heard.

  Luneth shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eyes. 'Nobody's gonna know.'

  Tavalor couldn't help but laugh at her audacity.

  After a moment, Luneth joined in, her earlier frustration forgotten.

  Our laughter was interrupted by a familiar echoing voice approaching the manor gates. The fish-man had apparently decided to return to its place of origin.

  'The Guildmaster has three mistresses in three different districts!'

  'The Temple Priestess can't actually perform healing magic!'

  'I'm the one who stole the royal sceptre during last year's ceremony!'

  Tavalor sighed, rising to his feet. This had gone on long enough. Tavalor focused his will, extending [Intimidation] like a barrier around the manor's perimeter. Not to frighten, but to redirect—to make anyone approaching suddenly remember urgent business elsewhere.

  Tavalor had got a lot better at using [Intimidation]. In fact, Tavalor had gotten a lot better at using his original abilities. He had in fact stopped bothering to master the six skill slots and their limitations.

  Ever since Tavalor had seen the Watchers net, he had realised it was a trap.

  There was a problem with those skills. Nobody would limit the skills in that way without there being a catch.

  His original draconic skills were better. The only limit to how he could use them was his imagination.

  [Intimidation] had come in handy a lot recently. It was a skill that was an application of aura to force someone to submit. But if you could make them submit, then you could make them do anything.

  It was like Haki in one piece, or the force. If someone was weaker than you, you could [Intimidation] them into following orders.

  Or in this case. Using [Intimidation] like a shield to deflect them away from his mansion.

  The fish-man collided with the invisible barrier and bounced back, confused. It tried again, only to be deflected once more. After several attempts, it gave up and raced away, its voice fading as it resumed its circuit of the city.

  Peace returned to the garden, the distant sounds of chaos nothing but a faint murmur beyond his barrier. Little Shadow settled contentedly on a nearby rock, enjoying the tranquillity.

  As Tavalor sat there, eyes closed in relaxation, he sensed movement above. Opening one eye, he observed a figure flying overhead—an uncommon but not unheard-of sight in a city of mages. However, something unusual happened. The flyer suddenly faltered, as if disoriented, and began to descend rapidly.

  With a startled cry, they crashed through the upper branches of a tree and landed with a thud on the soft grass nearby.

  The flyer—a young elf in light armour—struggled to her feet, looking utterly bewildered. She turned in a circle, blinking rapidly.

  'Where am I?' she muttered. 'I could have sworn there was a manor here, but...'

  She walked right past me, seemingly unable to see me or the manor despite standing in its garden. Tavalor's [Intimidation] was working too well—compelling her not only to ignore the place but to literally be unable to perceive it.

  The elf wandered in frustrated circles, occasionally bumping into objects she couldn't see, completely lost. For nearly half an hour, she fumbled about, growing increasingly distressed as his attempts to leave resulted in her walking in circles.

  Finally, taking pity on her, Tavalor eased the [Intimidation] effect.

  The elf froze as the manor and its occupants suddenly materialised before his eyes. Her blinked rapidly, her hand moving to the hilt of his sword.

  'Peace,' I said calmly. 'You're in no danger here.'

  The elf relaxed slightly, though wariness remained in her eyes, I realised. The armour had concealed her features, but her face was delicate and distinctly elven.

  'My apologies for the intrusion,' she said formally, giving a slight bow. 'I seem to have become disoriented during my flight.'

  Recognition dawned on him. This was the elven commanderTavalorhad observed through [Dragon's Eye] several weeks ago, leading her squad against the Chitari invaders in the ocean.

  She introduced herself: 'Captain Lyrawyn of the Silverwing Division,' straightening.

  After several moments of small talk she told me about herself and her mission: 'I am—was—at the peak of [C-Class] after several hundred years of cultivation. Young for an elf,' she added with a hint of pride.

  'I was left behind while my team returned to continue the campaign against the Chitari,' she continued. 'I came seeking the one who saved me—there are rumours of an [S-Class] who intervened in a battle. I wish to offer my thanks.'

  Tavalor was surprised. Did someone figure out who I was? Or did she get lucky?

  She carried herself with quiet dignity, her weathered armour telling the story of countless battles. Despite her relative youth by elven standards, her eyes held the weight of experience.

  Tavalor asked the obvious questions: 'The elves are safe and sound on the Western Continent. The Chitari have no way to get to you. Why involve yourself in this battle at all?'

  'My master taught me that it is the duty of the strong to defend the weak,' she said, a passionate certainty in her voice. 'The blood of elves has been shed to protect this realm for all time. As long as we elves live, we shall not let the Chitari occupy the southern continent, or any enemy occupy this realm.'

  Tavalor studied her intrigued by her conviction.

  Was it the duty of the strong to defend the weak? Tavalor didn't necessarily agree, but Tavalor respected those who lived by such beliefs.

  She reminded Tavalor of the firefighters, police officers, and soldiers from Earth—dedicated to a cause greater than themselves.

  It was strange to encounter such selflessness in a world that often operated by the principle of the strong devouring weak.

  'Do you know anything about the [S-Class]?' she asked eagerly.

  Tavalor shook his head. 'No, I wasn't there.'

  She frowned, confusion crossing her features. 'Strange. I was certain...'

  With a subtle application of [Intimidation], I guided her memories away from any connection to me. Her expression cleared, and she nodded slowly.

  'I must have been mistaken,' she murmured.

  She rested briefly, recovering her Mana. Before departing, she presented me with a small scroll.

  'A token of gratitude for your hospitality,' she said. 'An elven cultivation technique—[Minor Healing]. It may serve you well.'

  Tavalor eyebrows lifted up in surprise. He didn't bother to ask why. Somehow she knows. He thought to himself.

  She rose to leave, her eyes bright with anticipation. 'I must hurry. The tide is turning against the Chitari. The combined forces of the elves and the southern continent have pushed them back significantly. I fear the war might end before I return!'

  With a formal bow, she launched herself skyward, her form dwindling against the afternoon sun.

  Tavalor watcher her go.

  The scroll [Minor Healing] sat heavy in his hands.

  The elves were interesting. Protectors willing to risk everything for those who couldn’t defend themselves. An kind hearted philosophy in the world of cultivation and power-seeking.

  He sat back in his chair, enjoying the afternoon sun. He was glad they existed though. Better them than me.