Rarely did she come to this country. It was a mysterious, deeply technological one that was at the cutting edge of new engineering advancements and philosophical ideas. Cogs and whirring machines made the backbone of the monster that was their society, mixed with rich, dark magic that thrummed through his veins. A beast that Philomel van der Aart had no love at all for.

But here she was nevertheless, a being willing to bring this industrial culture and world down upon itself. More than that she wanted to condemn it, destroy it, let the country that was the greatest danger to the mighty efforts of nature be brought to ruin. For it ate up her fine resources, it abused and refined and consumed her, all in the announcement of progress. Thick black smoke coiled into the sky, even from where Philomel stood at the edge of this neat little harbour town, poisoning the air as far as she was concerned.

But she was here to do what little she could. For a brief time now she had been in Raiaera, organising her world there and relaying the news personally to a noble with white hair on the final destiny of Hugin, also known as the Bearded Man. That adventure had opened her up into a realisation that there was truth to the saying, ‘You get what you deserve.’ Hugin had been cruel to so many people and now he lay somewhere in Concordia forest, his blood mingling with the earth and giving it back life.

In exchange for the news the white haired noble had offered her a truth. For some small way to do a harm to Alerar, by hunting a being.

“They have started experimenting on beings,” he had said in his fluid, handsome voice. “And a particular one resides in a small harbour town, accessible by river.”

“You really think that a beast lies here, my lady?” her erstwhile secretary, Gosling, asked. She had braved the whole journey here this time, escaping her usual confines of the fortress where she served as both administration for the Gilded Lily, and as governess for Philomel's daughter and heir Celandine.

Philomel slowly nodded her head, observing the street where they were. From one side of the street came boisterous noise and light of a pub. She had asked about strange creatures and had been pointed to this side of town. Now she had quite run out of leads and knew that her most of basic fact finding skills would need to be used now.

But who? And what? What sort of thing did the dark elves of Alerar truly find enchanting.

“What would you say,” Philomel looked back to her human companion, “To you working instead of me Gosling?”

The woman paled significantly behind her spectacles and hugged her book of papers to her chest.

“My lady!” she gasped, looking over to the pub. “Me? But I have not done that in - well, years now, since you hired me.”

“Hmm, but you have the skills, still, right?”

Great blinking happened, and Gosling straightened. “My lady … please!”

Philomel raised a brow. “Who do you think they'd prefer Gosling? You or me?”

And the fair haired secretary was left, lips parted in shock. Then they closed, as she frowned.

“Wait, you think I still can do it?”