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Fardon realises that Mermul is dangerous, but not for the reason you might think.

Icon art from the Mermul reference by Billie/FeatheryFlukes

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Chapter 11 - Investigation

Sir Darving made a strangled noise as he took in the dragon execution chamber.

"Ignore that," Mermul told him.

"What?!" the knight looked at Mermul as if he was insane. "But that's..."

"Fake," the fluff-dragon said distractedly. "Apparently Aunt Fercia had some kind of dragonslayer kink. A few of the props look suspicious and I'll need your opinion later... The middle skull might be real, and if any of those guns are illegal, I'll want them taken off my claws too..." he added and touched the secret panel. "But that's less important right now."

Sir Darving started as the concealed door opened behind him.

"Down there," Mermul pointed, looking anxious. "That's the problem. You go first... I don't want to see that again."

"If this is a trap," the red dragon said, eying Mermul suspiciously.

"Then it's Fercia's doing and not his," Fardon growled. "Mermul is reporting a serious matter to you, knowing that you hate him. So quit stalling and do your job!"

"I worry that you are going soft on Mermul," Sir Darving returned. "You said you loved him like a son. How far would you go to protect him...?"

"I have been assigned to protect him until he finds his wings... or confirms your suspicions," Fardon retorted hotly. "Why do you think I suggested bringing you here as a witness instead of reporting it myself? That would be a conflict of interest!"

"I stand corrected," the red dragon knight said, and opened the door.

Sir Darving returned a few minutes later, looking grave.

"Thank you for reporting this, Mermul," he said calmly. "This section of the house will be sealed off for an investigation. However, you may continue to use the upper floors - at least for now. But before that, we had best make sure there aren't any other secret doors we have overlooked. I will need your assistance."

* * *

The secret door slid open at Mermul's touch. Fearing the worst, he craned his neck nervously towards the door and peeped inside. He relaxed. "It's just a study."

"That doesn't mean this place is innocent," Sir Darving remarked, studying the other dragon's reactions. "It could hold tomes of forbidden lore."

"If so, they should be sent to a suitable archive," Mermul said.

"Not destroyed?" the red dragon looked at him questioningly.

"No. Something which starts out evil can still be used for good," the fluff-dragon insisted. "For instance, if someone else misuses a grimoire, then you'll need to refer to the same texts to know what they did, and how to defend against it."

"I suppose so," the knight admitted grudgingly. "Anyway, let's see what we have."

While Sir Darving scanned through the titles on the shelves, Mermul went to the writing desk in the centre of one wall. It was not much bigger than a large desk intended for a human, but the space beneath was entirely taken up with drawers and cupboards since a dragon would not need the leg-room of a sitting human.

A large drawer opened at his touch to reveal a large tome, which to a dragon was a conveniently-sized notebook.

"Uh oh," he said, turning the pages carefully.

"What's that?" Sir Darving craned his neck to glance at him.

"It's a diary. The dates are in Lord Thurr's calendar," Mermul said. "I doubt that's a good sign."

"We found her journal in the other study," the knight said. "That used standard calendar, starting from the signing of the Pax Draconica."

"I'm in it," Mermul said quietly, flicking back a number of pages.

"This... about a year and a half ago, mourning my heroic death on a mission in Arcaia."

"Bold of you to say that," Sir Darving's eyes narrowed.

"You already know," Mermul replied tersely. "I confessed all in Lord Varl's palace. But listen..."

"'32nd Mercember 2157. Terrible news... it seems my nephew is still alive... but has broken faith with my beloved Lord and joined those filthy two-legs! Helping them! A thousand plagues upon Mirmjolnar the Betrayer... He is no blood of mine, and when my Lord catches the traitor he shall...'"

"Shall what...?" Sir Darving prompted.

"Read it yourself," Mermul said, looking away queasily. "It's all about how they're going to skin me alive, hang me by the neck and s-scoop out the cold brains from my severed h-head..."

The knight trotted over and studied the book himself. His eyes widened slightly. "...That's quite graphic," he said.

Sir Darving flicked through the pages, reading fragments of the journal for a few moments, and then glanced back at Mermul.

"If these are truly her inner thoughts, it does strengthen your claims of being a defector," the red dragon admitted grudgingly. "Hang on... 2157? When was that?"

"Last year," Mermul calculated. "It's based on when Thurr usurped the throne... he's an egotistical shit. 2157 would have been during my sojourn in Arcaia. By Mercember I would have been working as a lifter... Wait! How did she know...?"

"Exactly," Sir Darving said, frowning. "Even if she was specifically interested in Arcaia, your recovery was kept out of the news. Hell, they didn't tell us you were really Mirmjolnar during your background check. We had to look through our file of known Thurr agents."

"Arcaia offered me a fresh start," Mermul said defensively. "Like a witness protection scheme... And I took it. If you were on the run from your lord, you'd do the same.
"But that's not the point. I can see Thurr having his people watch Arcaia, and them recognising me and passing it back to him... But then, how did she find out?"

"A spy," Sir Darving said. "She had a contact here to tell her."

"Most likely," Mermul sighed. "If you can try and avoid killing them, that would be nice..."

"WHAT?! Whose side are you on, Mirmjolnar?" Sir Darving's eyes flashed dangerously.

"Yours," Mermul snapped defiantly. "Though it's starting to look like Lord Thurr's realm all over again. And don't call me that!"

"What is going on here?!" Fardon interrupted, poking his head into the room. "Sir Darving, are you baiting Mermul...?"

"But he's comparing us with Lord Thurr!" the knight protested furiously. "And now we think there might be a spy and he wants them spared! The more he says, the more I think he's a traitor too!"

"He has a point!" Fardon said viciously. "Listen, Sir Darving - Mermul is damaged goods. He needs therapy and instead we gave him trauma that will take years to heal. Is it any wonder if he feels the same doubts about Lord Varl that you feel about him?!"

Sir Darving huffed angrily and looked at the floor.

"Mermul," Fardon said, "We are better than Lord Thurr... But the gap should be wider than it is. If you're looking for a paradise entirely free of pain and strife, you won't find it here... or anywhere else in this world, I'm sorry to say.
"Lord Varl's realm is as close as we can manage... but it's not perfect, and it never will be. You can leave and try to find your promised land, but if you stay, you help can show us where we went wrong and help bring it closer to perfection."

"I guess you're right," Mermul sighed. "But... please... if you find this spy... Show them some mercy."

"You see?!" Sir Darving wailed. "He admits it! He wants us to spare Lord Thurr's lackey! He's still sympathetic to our enemy!"

"I am not!" Mermul protested hotly. "Thurr's lot are dangerous psychopaths and any of their spies must be caught and neutralised. But that doesn't mean I want to see a fellow dragon die! Even an evil one! Imprisoned, yes - if they deserve it. But you know how slowly we reproduce compared to the small races! There have to be better solutions than chopping off the heads of creatures who take half a century to reach maturity!"

"Mermul," Fardon said calmly, glancing at Sir Darving. "Answer as truthfully as you can. If you could, somehow, be forgiven by Lord Thurr... If we could wave a wand and make him forget that you had betrayed him... Would you want to return there?"

"No!" Mermul looked appalled. "He would make me kill people! It would only be a matter of time before I offended him again!"

"Next question. If we assume, hypothetically, that Thurr is somehow left incapable of harming you... That you never have to fear him or his assassins again... Tell me - where would you prefer to live?"

"Arcaia," the fluff-dragon said instantly. "They liked me there. They didn't pretend to cut my head off! They saved my life, even after all the hurt I'd caused them! I want to repay their kindness, and I would never have left if... If they had the defences needed to hold off Lord Thurr."

"Arguably they brainwashed you," Sir Darving murmured suspiciously.

"Call it what you like, but they made me into a better person," Mermul retorted stubbornly.

"I guess I am worried in case you have some kind of relapse," Sir Darving admitted. "Maybe you are not a threat now, but... What if the original Mermul comes back?"

"I am not some kind of alter-ego!" Mermul snapped. "I am a reformed dragon with a shitty past I'm trying to compensate for. At Arcaia, they gave me my conscience back. My empathy... the things that Lord Thurr crushed out of me, and I don't want to lose them again!"

"Listen, both of you," Fardon said tensely. "Only after Mermul's... testing... has Lord Varl come to appreciate the danger we are in. It may not be an immediate danger, but nonetheless..."

"Bishop Ferdinand has been making some enquiries, and the High Priest of Tarnover has referred him to some ancient, proscribed texts about a previous visitation of the Devourer. This work was banned for conflicting with Temple doctrine, but it exactly matches what we have seen ourselves.
"Fiskul is the Devourer, the one sent to end the world," Fardon continued. "This creature makes friends, nearly always dragons. But it is quite possible that these friends are the only reason the world still exists. If he... they ever become lonely enough to decide that life is not worth living, it is very likely that they will take everyone else with them."

"Now, I don't know how many of the Devourer's friends are still alive," Fardon said, looking stressed. "But Mermul is one of them. And that means we have to protect him, because if Mermul dies and Fiskul takes it badly, it could quite literally mean the end of the world."

Sir Darving looked at Mermul in horror, and the fluff-dragon wore a similar expression. "But what if he lied?" Sir Darving protested. "What if he's another Fercia?! What if he breaks the Pax Draconica?! Are you saying we can't punish him?!"

"We can't kill him," Fardon corrected. "If, Alkrash forbid, Mermul breaks faith with us and goes on some kind of murder spree, he could be imprisoned indefinitely, with the Devourer given visiting rights.

"But..." the dragon continued, looked worried. "It also means we cannot allow Lord Thurr to kill him, either."