6 No Fun Allowed

Near the royal castle and it's associated residences, made of wood from an ancient tree of beautiful craft, a tower that brought to mind a spire to the heavens was present. The wood both on the exterior and in the interior were inlaid with a light script, that seemed to constantly be in motion- awash with the purity of the highest class magic. Within it's top most room, an elf with long silver hair, to the point where it could touch the ground from his standing position, was seated. His hair was in direct contrast to the typical elven gold; currently, he was lazing in an ordinary wooden rocking chair- one you could possibly find among any household of any intelligent race. He was cradling a flask within his hands- presumably one filled with high purity alcohol, judging from his lethargic state and slightly rose tinted face skin.

Even someone who wasn't an elf could identify him as not being young- the wrinkles and sunken skin showed the marks of age; the slight silver, unshaven stubble was unusual to see among the elves. He was undoubtedly someone from an age long past, with much experience to speak of. However, he currently looked like nothing more then an a washed up drunk. A heroic looking elf, with short gold hair and lean frame, was standing before the drinking older elf. From a look at his hands, one could tell he was no stranger to the blade, despite his workplace in the tower. Currently however, he was speaking exasperatedly to said older elf.

"A dragon's been seen flying around near the royal castle. A fire dragon specifically- though it does seem to be a young one. Who should I inform of this? A dragon hasn't appeared so blatantly for over 200 years... Something sinister might be afoot. "

"Huh? Eh, I don't care. Just pretend we didn't see it or something."

"...Sir, you're the Prime Overseer, and Guardian of the Watchtower. Aren't you supposed to inform the royal family of something so potentially dangerous?"

"Shut up, I'm drinking. I can't show myself in public like this. Go do it yourself if it matters that much. You already seem to understand eh... proper protocol. Or something."

"...Alright then Sir. But haven't you not been sober for the last 40 years?"

"Eh, that little? Rookie numbers- I gotta keep it up then. Don't interrupt my hard work."

"..."

----------------

"Damn, this place is fancy, ain't it?"

It really was quite the view. Within a seemingly natural clearing surrounded by the tallest trees within the elven forest, a bondafide palace made of some form of enchanted wood could be seen. This was the elve's royal palace; constructed by the very first generation of elves, 3000 years ago. The tree which the wood was secured from was long gone by this point- yet the wood from it still seemed to pulse with life.

"Hmmm... I wonder if I could burn it? Nah, if I tried, I'd probably piss off some old heavy hitter, or maybe even a god. Speaking of which, where's that god of travel? She slacking or something?"

Of course, no one could answer his musings.

Careening down quickly he lands gracefully, and strikes a pose that would make a modern person cringe- something straight out of a Sentai show.

"Justice- ahem, terror has arrived!"

...

"Where the hell is everybody!?"

That's right, no one was there. The news of a dragon had been delayed by a certain irresponsible drunk. Currently, Sion could just listen to the sounds of nature and the wind on his skin and scales-

"Wait, hold up. My clothes are gone. I must've torn them when I flew off..."

He was only slightly annoyed, before he saw something that caught his eye.

"Huh? A petal?"

That's right, it was petal; a rose petal, judging from the red tint. It brought to mind femininity, and the expression of one's love- but where did it come from? There was nothing but green around him earlier, along with a strange emptiness, but there was no sign of a rose nearby... But voices behind him made him whip around quickly.

"Madame, you have done a wonderful job. You have contained the potential threat of a potential brute of a dragon! I knew you were the perfect one to inform of-"

"Gael?"

"Yes madame?"

"Stop talking."

"Y-yes."

The madame, in this case, was an elven woman overflowing with charm- and not simply because of her expertly applied makeup. Her figure could be summed up as super model-esque, and her from fitting red dress, reminiscent of the color of a rose, left nothing to the imagination even though the most exposed part of her body was merely a hint of her collarbone; most of the accenting features of her body had a hint of red to them, including her lips and around her eyes. Her hair was silver, which was something usually borne by elves of an age past- not what one would think seeing her beautiful visage.

The person complimenting her to an excessive degree is the loyal assistant to the Guardian of the Watchtower- who is named Gael. His heroic frame had a radiant smile as he looked at the elven woman with admiration in his eyes. However, that smile turns into a scowl as he looks at Sion.

"Barbaric dragon! You dare attempt to infiltrate the grounds of the royal residence? You were merely trapped in an illusion by the madame, the most accomplished magic user of our race in the last 500 years! You weren't even close; and how vulgar! You are as naked as the day you were born-"

"Gael, shut up."

"Ah, yes."

Turning to Sion with a radiant smile, her following words bulldozed over any form of dissent of common sense.

"A young dragon, naked as the day he was born- you don't see that everyday. I'll tell you what; me and my race will forget about your... dubious intentions, as long as you follow me. However, if you decline... you die. Sound fine? Good. Now let's go."

As quick as she came, she was spirited away, along with Sion- leaving an aggrieved looking Gael behind.

"Ugh, everyone leaves me behind... I'm gonna go steal some of that old man's alcohol and drown my sorrows; that'll teach him to do his job."