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Zexir wished he were anywhere but here right now.

The meeting had been going on for nearly 3 hours, and the three Elders had been stuck inside the Council Chamber for all of that time. Whilst Zexir could easily put on a good show of being attentive and listening to the mortal standing in front of him, he couldn't help but inwardly groan at how long the proceedings were taking. It happened every 3 months: a quarterly review that was often accompanied with an ambassador from either of the two continent regions not far from their island. The primary use of the review was to discuss what changes needed to be made with the merchants and magicians who lived at Star's Point, but this year there was an apparent change in the rules to the Orbath Treaty. Zexir just wished he were back in his chambers, enjoying the company of a servant girl or two.

A long time ago, the King of Reliquim, the western continent, and the Queen of Adplagam, the eastern continent, had joined together with the Council of Dragons to sign a treaty. Most of it was long-winded politics, but it boiled down to two very simple rules: The Dragons would keep to their island, and in turn the mortals wouldn't hunt them. Whilst it looked like a thinly-vieled threat, Zexir knew all too well how strong the mortals could be if he they decided to band together. They were like ants: powerless individually, but stronger as a whole. It wasn't only that, however: the proceedings had initially been supervised by the Council of Wizards, that sat in their high and mighty tower right in the center of Orbath. They had always been ones to toot their own horn, and were likely the ones orchestrating the 'exile' of the Dragons back to their island. The Wizards never seemed too happy that Dragons could use magic in the first place.

Though, it wasn't as if the Dragons were copying mortals. Rather, it was the other way around. Mortals like to believe they have an accurate history, but the Dragons know better: in their ancient archives are the writings of a long since deceased Elder Dragon, whom Zexir is a descendant of himself. His name was Uriel, and he always had a soft spot for mortals. When the Demons began to appear and the Ancient Ones began to fester in the Mortal Realm, Uriel had done something that no Dragon should have ever done: he granted magic to Mortals, giving them to power to fight them back. However, they were ungrateful about their gift: the details are sketchy, but the Dragons know, without a shred of a doubt, that the mortals ended up killing Uriel themselves, likely to save their own hides and keep the magic for themselves. Since then, Dragons have always widely disliked mortals, some more than most, but some still hold onto a faint shred of hope that they're worth 'saving'.

"...and that's all, My Lord." Zexir snapped out of his own thoughts just as the ambassador had finished reading off the last set of rules from the parchment in front of him. The old Dragon turned his head to glance at the two other Elders sitting either side of him: Raln and Valia.

"Anything worth noting?" Zexir whispered quietly, and the two of them shook their heads. He breathed hard through his nostrils, closing his eyes for a moment, before he blinked them open and stared down at the man. They'd met before, of course, on several occasions, but Zexir couldn't help but feel a small sliver of amusement whenever the ambassador shrank away from his striking gaze. Zexir towered over at the man at 8 metres or so, after all. Like all other Dragons, Zexir had 6 limbs: two arms, two hind legs, and two vast wings that could spread to an incredible length. To anyone who was not used to them, Dragons were thoroughly terrifying, and the Elders were creatures not to be trifled with.

"Very well. We accept your terms. Provided, however, you think it wise to not hunt us. We are not as extinct as we used to be." The Dragon boomed in a low, authoritative tone, his lips moving to match the common tongue. It was true: when the treaty had been signed, there were barely 100 Dragons in existence. Now, with the aid of Valia and Raln, they had managed to fill the island with almost 1000 of them.

The Ambassador gulped and rolled up his parchment, giving them an earnest bow. He had been thoroughly intimidated enough. He stood there anxiously, waiting to be dismissed.

"You m--" Just as Zexir was about to let him go, the doors to the council chambers burst open, the room flooding with the chill winter wind outside. Scrambling through the door came a scout, roughly 4 metres in height. The Ambassador let out a wail of surprise and ducked to the left as the Dragon slipped on the smooth tiling of the chambers, tripping and sliding his way across the chamber until his snout collided sharply with Zexir's front hand. He quickly composed himself and raised himself up to his haunches, his breathing heavy and his eyes wild.

"...Fen. I'm surprised to see you here: I thought you were on patrol with the Delta team." Raln snarled out his annoyance, and Zexir's gaze snapped to him. Raln was a hot-headed sort of Dragon who ruled over the 'military' of their island. In short, he organised the guardsmen and the scout patrols that often flew over Orbath, watching for signs of invasion. The mortals would have complained usually, but as the Dragons never landed or 'set foot' on their soil, they avoided their vague treaty rules.

Raln had very little patience for politics, and was one of the old Dragons who often fought with humans. His temperament has since cooled down considerably, but he is still as candid as ever, and doesn't hesitate to speak his mind. It's his rather sharp approach to mortal politics that makes the proceedings a little easier on Zexir and Valia. He asks the tough questions where they cannot.

"C-Commander! Sir!" Fen was short, red, and a lot of trouble, but he was startlingly obedient. "There's been a problem. We found a--"

He hesitated, his gaze finally flicking to the man meekly standing beside him. The Drake looked back up to the council and shrank back, thinking he had done something wrong. Zexir slowly lowered his head and leisurely swept his gaze over to the Ambassador.

"I trust you can be confidential in this matter?" He asked quietly, his face lined with the seriousness of his tone. Even someone without a modicum of common sense would have been able to understand the threat behind those words, and the Ambassador quickly stammered his approval. Zexir gestured to the scout, who nodded and continued.

"North of Reliquim, in the Hixborough Mountains...we found a Dragon!" Fen's eyes were wide with the seriousness of the situation, but the Elders looked momentarily puzzled.

"And this is ground-breaking news?" Raln snapped, which caused the young Drake to flinch.

"A-As you know, Lord Raln, we are trained to recognise every Dragon we come across. We can also communicate with them with our minds. This Dragon...we don't know who he is, and he doesn't know us!"

The realisation finally set in with the Elders, and they fell into a silence, their minds racing. Zexir, of all things, was probably the most concerned. If anything, this violated their treaty. Worse still, this Dragon could be a threat: they had no idea how old it was, or what magical potential it had.

"How old did they look?" Valia immediately asked, and a small smile crept upon Zexir's lips. Valia always had the same line of thinking she did, and she was incredibly level headed. That was why she was head of Agriculture: she handled all the livestock and food for Dragons to eat on the island, and none of them ever went hungry. She was also the only female on the council, which often gave unique insight.

"It looked no older than I, Lady Valia. We suspect they are just a Drake, probably no older than 16." Fen replied, and that brought on its own wave of silence of a different nature. This implied a great many things, but one realisation was at the forefront of Zexir's mind: if this Dragon were just a child, then it meant there were 1, perhaps even 2 other Dragons somewhere in Orbath that were unaccounted for. They knew everyone who left the island. Surely they'd have known if someone had decided to leave.

"What about their magic?" Valia pressed for more information as Fen looked up at her, his young face lined with worry.

"I--" Just as he was about to speak, he stopped. His eyes glazed over in an all-too-familiar way that nearly every Dragon was aware of. Each Dragon could telepathically communicate with one-another, though it wasn't completely private. It was like throwing your voice out to someone else and expecting them to throw their voice back at you. It could be intercepted at any time, even if it were considered rude. The elders watched the young scout's face meticulously, until his eyes blinked and he snapped back to reality. He grimaced.

"It appears as if the Delta Leader tried to intercept the unknown Dragon and bring him in, but it...disappeared before his very eyes." Fen informed them, and Zexir's eyes widened.

"Teleportation?" That took a serious degree of magic. Only Zexir, and barely a few others within the upper court, could actually successfully perform teleportation, or have the magical capacity to do so. If this Dragon could do it without instruction, then that made it's existence all the more troublesome.

"What do we do, Zexir?" For once, Raln sounded nervous when he asked the Elder a question. Of course they would look to him: after all, he was almost 400 years their senior. He settled back and sighed through his nose.

"Give me a moment." He muttered, and closed his eyes. He imagined, in his mind, the realm of Orbath in front of him. He imagined the vast oval-shaped island, picturing to two continents, and their own small island off of Adplagam's coast. He projected his will through this simulated world, pinging off of various locations until he finally found what he was seeking. When his mind searched the southern regions of Reliquim, he got a response: it was faint, but still there. The Dragon must have teleported from the nothern end to the southern end. To jump such a distance at such a young age was extraordinary. Now aware of where he was, he projected his thoughts in that direction.

"Child. Child, can you hear me?" He wasn't even sure if he would get through at first. He had the growing suspicion that the child would avoid them. He waited for a few moments, before projecting the same thoughts about. Again, there was on response.

"...This is Zexir, of the Council of Dragons. I'm sorry for the scout team who intercepted you: they did not mean you harm. We only wish for your safety. Please respond." He projected the thoughts, and after a second, he picked up a faint interference. The child had opened a 'channel', as it were, linking them directly over a vast distance. They would be able to talk freely without having to try to so hard to project their innermost thoughts.

"...Who are you?" Zexir said after a moment, feeling the quiet tingle against his scales, knowing his voice was heard.

"Elin." The voice finally replied with a name. It sounded young and boyish, and Zexir quickly deduced that he was speaking with a young male.

"You gave us quite the shock, teleporting over such a long distance." Zexir was a good diplomat, and the way to anyone's hearts was with compliments. This was doubly true for children, who thrived on positive reinforcement. He conveyed across a genuine amusement with his thoughts, hoping it might put the other's mind at ease.

"I've done longer." Elin replied back, and Zexir caught a hint of a mixture of emotions in his voice: shyness, with a thin sliver of amusement. He was playing along. That was good. Though, as much as he wanted to relax the young Dragon, there were more pressing matters.

"Elin, you are in danger. I don't know how much you know, but there is a reason we all live on an island. Will you come to us?" Zexir asked quietly after a moment, and there was a silence.

"No." The child replied, and there wasn't any emotion with his thoughts. He kept himself composed rather well for a child.

"Do you mind telling me why?"

"I have to find my father."

Zexir frowned at the thought. So, there was indeed another Dragon in Orbath that was unaccounted for. Magical potential was often passed down through generations, so it would be no stretch of the imagination to think that Elin's father had similar power to his own.

"I understand. We can help you find your father, if you let us."

"He said 'not to trust the Dragons in their ivory towers'." Elin's tone was sharp, and Zexir felt a pang of guilt. The boy's father didn't think favourably of the Council. Zexir attempted to quickly think of someone who might have fit the bill, but none came to mind.

"You can trust me. I only want what's best for all Dragons, and that means bringing you here, where you belong."

"But I belong with my father."

"That's also true. I'd like him to join us as well, if we can find him."

There was another quiet silence. For a moment, Zexir thought he was starting to win the boy over, but he soon felt the interference waning.

"I'm tired." Elin replied curtly, and the connection between them suddenly dropped. Zexir felt a tight feeling in his stomach: had the young child overdone it? Had he simply not wanted to talk anymore? Either way, he was concerned. Slowly, he opened his eyes to see the two Elders staring at him, with Fen anxiously sitting before him. The Ambassador had dared not move.

"His name is Elin," Zexir spoke, glancing to the two Elders. "And he is not a fan of the Council."

"No surprise there," Raln grunted, raising himself up on all fours. "Tell me his location and I'll dispatch a team."

"No. We must treat with this caution: this child has a great deal of magical potential. He'll be spreading residue all over Orbath if we're not careful, and I don't want to attract the attention of the Wizards. They will only prove to make the matter more difficult. We'll need to find him ourselves with a certain degree of...finesse."

"That's a stupid idea." Raln growled his response, and Zexir turned his head to stare at him. All the Elders were roughly similarly sized, but Raln was at least a metre taller than Zexir. Whilst Zexir might not be a match in physical combat, he certainly outdid Raln in magic.

There was a degree of tension in the room as Zexir and Raln stared each other down. Valia cleared her throat.

"How do you propose we do that, then. Zexir? It's not like anyone can keep up with him." She pointed out, and her eyes widened when Zexir turned his head to shoot her a wide grin.

"I can."