The Port City of Nautilus glittered like a jewel under the kaleidoscope of colours in the sky over the setting sun. Even far after the blazing bronze disc slid under the waves and the stars began to peek through the veils of purple, navy, and eventual black, the streets and thoroughfares remained lit with wide, shallow braziers and oil lanterns. 

Seated on the largest of the Smokerim Isles and by virtue of being the largest city, Nautilus was the capitol of the island nation. Only a three day journey by ship to the mainland in the north, Nautilus was a melting pot of humanity and a popular destination for those of Hembath or Duruhl who wanted to enjoy their vices away from the disapproving eyes of their own governments. Bordellos full of exotic women and markets full of forbidden wares were displayed openly along the winding, cobbled streets. In some ways, the lax attitude towards controversial subjects like whore-houses, slavery, and intoxicating substances made the city dangerous. But in other ways there was a more equal opportunity out there for the cast-offs and misfits from other parts of the realms. And Nautilus was farm from lawless. Nestled on a high cliff in the middle of the city was the Jade Palace, home and seat of the Crown. 

The young Prince and his Imperial Advisor ensured the protection of the small nation with the might of the Jade Armada, so named because of the greenish patina the ships took on once their copper-armoured hulls had spent a few years at sea. The Armada was generally touted as the fiercest naval force to be found.

Like all of the cities on the isles, Nautilus sloped upwards from the harbour through the thick jungle towards the steep sides of the volcano at the island's center. Most of the isles were volcanic, though there had been no significant eruptions for centuries. Even so, an instinctive love of the heat and underground magma was Drachia's inspiration for setting up shop here. The local societal climate worked in her favour, and she was away from the prying eyes of the full-blooded dragons who plotted and schemed over the centuries in the northern territories.

But in spite of her carefully-plotted existence in Nautilus, at the moment the red-scaled half-dragon was in a towering rage. Having been fearfully interrupted by her human servant Rhoderick to inform her that she had company, she had then received some news that had irritated her very badly.

In one of the large sitting rooms of the obsidian and red marble villa, she paced back and forth in front of the massive hearthfire, her amber eyes blazing fiercely, her clawed, talon-like feet clicking harshly against the floor with every step. No matter the warm summer winds bringing the scent of lurid tropical flowers in through the gauzy drapes across the arching windows, that bonfire was never dim when the Mistress was home. 

Tail lashing, she rounded on the half-elf in grimy clothing, brandishing the parchment missive she had clenched in her fist. Her voice carried with it both a grumble and a hiss. "I thought I paid you better than this, Brent! Do you mean to tell me that Tarvick's little crew of half-wits found out about the location of one of the Forgotten Tomes and you waited three days to deliver the message?!"

The slender, boyish Brent gasped at the sheer ferocity in her visage, shrinking back against the door-frame in an attempt to escape the heat. He imagined himself being burned to death by her fire, or shredded by her claws, and only managed to stop himself from turning tail and fleeing because he suddenly forgot how to use his legs. 

"N-...no, Miss Drachia! I came soon as I got the note. Tarvick bribed the Harbourmaster not to say nothin' until a whole day had passed, then it took Sebastian another day to find out where they was goin' after they landed in Greenpool. They found an old castle buried up in the Malcrist Mountains near them elflands. Covered by avalanches for a hunnert' years, he said. And they bringed back a banner with a sigil on it like the one I drew there."

He pointed shakily to the charcoal scrawling on the back of the parchment, and Drachia looked away from the trembling lad to examine it, smoothing it with her clawed fingers on a nearby table.

"...I see," she hissed, calmer now while she considered the meaning of all this, mentally cursing her bad luck. "This is the sigil of the old kingdom. They ruled in that area for hundreds of years. The tome must be there somewhere, curse it. And I'm three days behind Tarvick and his jewel-sniffing imbeciles."

Her ire was so much that when she snorted in disgust, a ribbon of dark smoke billowed from her thin nostrils. Turning, she glared into the fire, wondering what Tarvick could have found that made him so wary of her presence at the dig site. He had only a passing appreciation for what old spellbooks and mouldering yellow tomes could be worth, preferring tangible goods like gold and jewels. He never liked her competition, but he had also never gone to any great lengths to avoid her either. While she pondered, her tail undulated back and forth and the great ribbed wings at her back flexed.

Finally, she turned to find Brent still hovering by the door. Rhoderick was wise enough to have vanished out of sight, but she trusted that he was within earshot. He was a good servant and over the years had learned to anticipate her moods, the good and the dreadful.

"Brent, you did well, all things considered, but tell Sebastian that I want to see him as soon as I return." She wasn't cruel enough to punish her messenger...most of the time She reached into a black leather pouch attached to the belt around her shapely hips and tossed a trio of gold coins to him. It was triple what she normally paid him, and perhaps it was the shock that caused him to let the question tumble out of his mouth.

"Return, Miss?" His green eyes followed the dragoness as she prowled around, lifting a thick traveling cloak from a rack and twirling it back over her shoulders and wings. "You can't be thinking of leaving the island now, no ship can leave the harbour after nightfall."

Rhoderick appeared silently out of the gloomy hallways leading into the rest of the manor and handed his Mistress a sturdy pack. The handsome, if quiet, man gave Brent and almost pitying look. Within a few moments, Drachia looked ready to depart. No blade hung from her waist, though she didn't generally need one, did she. Her lips twisted with amusement, peeling back into a sinister grin that revealed a multitude of sharp fangs and incisors.

"My dear..." she almost purred as she stepped backwards into the towering flames, until her figure was completely obscured by the flickering blaze. Except for her eyes. "...who said anything about taking a ship?"

And with a crackling roar and a shower of sparks tumbling out onto the wide stone hearth, she was gone.