[Ophelia - Hidden Talents?]

Ophelia's heart was full of doubt. After accompanying Nothol to his chambers she hurried back to her mistress tower. Every now and then she had to stop and engage in smalltalk with the inhabitants of the city. Most of them wanted her or Farheia to do something for them, but some just wanted to talk. Normally Ophelia enjoyed such things, her life was great since the mistress had chosen her, but right now she just had too much on her mind to care about whose kid said its first words or what things someone had accomplished. As she finally reached the staircase, she greeted the new shift of guards, then hurried down the stairs.

The mother of storms was cleaning herself as Ophelia entered her cave. Seeing a dragon lick itself like a dog or a cat was certainly a strange sight to behold, but Ophelia had gotten used to it by now. Farheia allowing Ophelia to see her in this rather disgraceful act, was a sign of great trust. At least the woman decided to understand it that way.

"I am back, mother."

Ophelia's lips became numb, her eyes dry as the mothers voice took hold of her throat. A few years ago this feeling of powerlessness over her own body would freak her out, but these days Ophelia found the feeling almost comforting. It meant that she fulfilled her purpose. Farheia didn't stop with what she was doing.

"Everything went well, I presume?"

Ophelia answered with a nod.

"Yes, mother."

"Good. You may rest now. Many want to speak to me tomorrow."

Even though Farheia had dismissed her for the day, Ophelia stayed where she was. Her shoulders were tense and a thin film of sweat laid on her skin. Apparently, lugging Nothol around had exhausted her more than she'd thought.

"If you have worries you should voice them, child, before they eat you up from the inside."

The dragons voice that came from her throat sounded almost caring. Farheia loved playing the distanced and mysterious old dragon but Ophelia knew deep down her mistress really cared. Every dragon had a treasure they value above all else and Farheias was this city and its inhabitants.

"I worry that letting the boy accompany the nightstalker and the hunters might end up biting us. He is neither a fighter nor does he provide anything of value to the mission we have given them. He is nothing but baggage that might get all of them killed."

A rumble came from deep within the dragon that sounded like a dying bear, but after years Ophelia could recognize it as the dragon's way of laughing.

"You are quite fast to judge a book by its cover."

Ophelia felt a stitch in her heart. Her cheeks were turning red.

"Every living thing in this world produces magic the same way, but we all put it to different uses. You for example invest a substantial chunk of it into maintaining our bond and the rest you invest into your body. The expenditure of magic is an almost subconscious action for the soul to not overload and tear itself apart. People that do not manage their magic consciously always evolve into fighter-types, strengthening their bodies with every ounce they got. Did the boy look like he had invested any magic into his body?"

Ophelia's jaw dropped. Something so obvious and she had overlooked it. Despite all her years of striving to become a worthy vessel for Farheias voice, she hadn't even been able to notice something so obvious. She bowed in order to hide the tears in her eyes, knowing that Farheia would see them anyway.

"That means either the boy has evolved a style of magic and neglected to use it despite his life being on the line or he doesn't even know that he has a style. In both cases I rather he remains outside my city for the time being."