Giving Henrietta a proper gear did not take long. With the help of Rodvar and Boluti, they gave the princess-turned-dragon something that she could wear by herself and not to be helped, fitting for her personality and her situation. As Bartlett requested, Rodvar designed a saddle that was more akin to a backpack. All Henrietta had to do was slung it over her back and fasten the horizontal straps, like one would fasten a backpack. To everyone's astonishment, she did not struggle putting on the saddle, even with her sharp talons. It was courtesy to her hand-like claws, something not all dragons possessed.

  Henrietta was still reluctant to wear the headgear made for her, and still was, declaring that she would only wear them when she had to. Wearing a tiara was different from wearing a full headgear that made her look like a horse, something that she had always been worried about ever since Bartlett told her about the rules of being a dragon under a dragon rider.

  It was only after much convincing did she reluctantly agreed to. As promised, Rodvar did not make a full rein, but something more akin to a halter that fit behind her horns and over the base of her maws. While it satisfied Henrietta's request, the princess-turned-dragon was still uncomfortable with having to wear something that a human should not have worn, only to be reminded by her own reflection that she was not a human, but a dragon.

  "At least you're willing to listen," commented Henrietta. "I doubt anyone would consider my requests."

  Yet, one problem remained. Now that the minor issue with her gear was solved, she still had the cursed collar around her neck. The collar looked uncomfortable, with its sharp edges digging into her soft scales. While it was not enough to cut through her flesh, the tight collar must have been painful to wear for Henrietta. It being responsible for sealing her fire also contributed to her bad mood.

  Additionally, the collar seemed to emit a very unpleasant aura. Bartlett may not be a mage, but he was sensitive enough to know that something felt off around her. One of the riders waiting for his dragon being fitted was disturbed enough to approach Bartlett.

  "You look like an adventurer who carries around cursed items," he said, bluntly. Considering that he was an elf, it was not surprising.

  "If I am, I'm not aware of it," said Bartlett, attempting to hide the fact that it was Henrietta's collar.

  Unfortunately for him, the elf not only did not buy his reasonings, his sensitivity to dark magick immediately turned him toward the collar.

  "It's not a shameful thing having your dragon trapped by a cursed item," he said. "But you should try and fix it before someone with worse temper start making your life miserable."

  "Can you suggest anyone?"

  "Camarth might have an expert on cursed item. But if you have money to burn, you can try Clydeth. While I doubt their official mages would even want to touch cursed item, there is no reason you can't find the...back-alley sorts, if you know what I mean."

  Bartlett wished to avoid anything illegal, if he could. Not that he had qualms about it. He was just reluctant to burn all the money he had just earned.

  In the end, Bartlett did not follow the elven dragon rider's suggestions.

  "I wish I know where Grant is," he said to himself. "Perhaps Rodvar knows."

  The human went to Rodvar, not expecting much. To his surprise, the dwarf shushed him, as if knowing something he couldn't say.

  "Wait until I'm closed for the day."

  Bartlett and Henrietta waited nearby. As the sun set, the three closed the shop, with Abila and Boluti returning to their homes. Rodvar, whose house was also his workshop, came out of his front door wearing something more casual than the blacksmith apron.

  "Bart, my boy," he said, then turned to Henrietta. "And the dragon. I didn't catch your name, lass."

  "Henrietta," said the dragon short.

  "Nice to meet you, Henrietta," said Rodvar. "So. What do you need?"

  "I know this doesn't concern you," said Bartlett. "But can you write to Grant and ask him whether he knows about cursed items?"

  Rodvar sighed. "I doubt he's going to help. Last I heard from him, he's already content living among the druids in one of their sanctuaries."

  "Huh. I never thought he found his peace."

  Rodvar shrugged. "Maybe it's you who needs to learn how to deal with it, lad. And not in a self-deprecating way."

  Bartlett chose not to remind himself of their split.

  "Then, do you know about cursed objects?"

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  "I know they're a pain to deal with, especially when some smartass adventurer decided that a dwarven blacksmith happened to know how to smith out a curse! Sorry, lad. Talking from experience. I got someone unwittingly cursing my shop and driving people away."

  "So, you do have an experience dealing with them."

  "Oh, don't tell me you have one of them cursed objects with you!"

  Bartlett glanced at Henrietta awkwardly, before Rodvar realized what he meant and said, "Oh, of course you are. It's the dragon lass, isn't it?"

  "Not her. It's her collar," said Bartlett, pointing at the black metallic collar with runic inscription all over it. "I don't want to undermine your knowledge, Rodvar, but that collar—"

  "Is not dwarven, I know. I noticed it when measuring Henrietta. Even with my dwarven instinct, I couldn't even tell the property of the metal, nor the ore that created it. That thing ain't Fel'uven, for sure. Then there's that unpleasant aura. It's subtle, but I can sense it."

  "Fel'uven?" asked Henrietta.

  "Deep Elves. Neighbors to our kingdoms. You better off not knowing about them, lad. They can easily stab your back before you even realize it."

  "But you must've known anyone that could help," said Bartlett. "I doubt the magick shops would even want to deal with cursed objects."

  "You do know they do the appraising on unknown magickal items, right?"

  "Yes, but I never heard anyone in Aldimar willing or even capable of purifying a cursed object. I can go to Camarth and find someone shady enough to take a look, but that'll get expensive."

  "Ah, lad. You're driving a hard bargain on ya self. Do you really want to help Henrietta or not?"

  "I want to. I just don't want to bankrupt myself."

  "I thought you already have a lot when I gave you my treasures," said Henrietta.

  "Nothing's cheap when it comes to cursed objects, princess," retorted Bartlett. "I might as well be doing something illegal to be cursed by something."

  "Well." Rodvar sighed. "If we're talking illegal, I know someone who might be able to help ya, lad."

  "I have a feeling I don't like what I'm about to hear."

  "You might've heard about her. She's called the witch of Carlesian mountain."

  Bartlett's eyes went wide. "Wait, that's your pick? Can you at least refer to someone who's not, I don't know, a criminal? In fact, I don't even know that the witch's going to help me."

  "Do you think anyone with a common sense would even risk getting caught experimenting with curse arts in Manarithia?"

  "True, but wouldn't there be mages with that kind of knowledge? Why her?"

  "She's infamous for fixing things no sane person would consider doing. Anyone who got involved with cursed items turned to her if they are not willing to be involved with the law."

  "Again, how the hell do you even know what she does?"

  "It's an open secret around these parts, lad. Just don't openly admit you went to the witch, or you would have to explain yourself to the constables and I doubt you want to explain the lass's secrets anymore than you do now."

  "Oh, great," said Henrietta, sarcastically. "This is getting better already."

  "Is she still called the witch of Carlesian mountain? Shouldn't she...you know, relocate to escape the law?"

  "Don't ask me why. She's the one who chose to stay," said Rodvar with a shrug. "That's all I know. You traveled more than I do, Bart. Someone you met in your journey might know someone else."

  Bartlett pondered about it, knowing that this was beyond whatever he did before he met Henrietta. He never dealt with cursed objects or cursed princesses before. It was beyond his comfort zone! In fact, dealing with criminals was not exactly his thing, either. He had lived his life in a relatively safe environment where everything was to be expected. Backdoor dealings were not part of his knowledge. This was why he had a hard time bargaining for the jobs he took from an adventurer's guild. A lot of independent adventurers do so.

  Just as he thought he should just try and ask his friends in Aldimar, Henrietta nudged him and said, "You know what? This is the best chance we ever get. Let's go find this 'Witch of the Carlesian Mountains'."

  "What?! She's a witch, princess! They practice magick, sure, but they don't do it the right way! Besides, she's a criminal! We'll got into trouble associating with her!"

  "Why not? Rodvar claims she can fix things no one is willing to fix. Besides, this is your own fault to begin with. You could've turn around and forget I ever existed, but then, the promise of gold is so alluring you decided to stick around with this dragon. You're a kind person, Bartlett, but you can sometimes be a little too good for your own good."

  "Oh, so now, you're coercing me?"

  Henrietta made a smug, devilish smile. "You took my gold, and forced me into wearing a riding gear. It's already degrading enough for a princess to do that. The least I can do is to have all the rights to ask something in return, right? Unless, you think I'm just a talking animal and I don't have human rights?"

  "You...." Bartlett groaned in frustration. She had a point.

  Rodvar, who listened to their conversation, laughed, and said, "Oh, she played her cards well, laddie! It's your loss on this one."

  "The basics of politics, Mr. Evans," she said with a formal tone, as a princess would. "The royal court is just as muddy as a dirt road after heavy rain. Sometimes you need to know how walk around that mud to get what you want, if you know what I mean. Only children play in mud."

  Bartlett groaned in frustration as he realized that Henrietta had a point. There was no way to give her gold back now that he already deposited it into his account. A dragon did not need bank accounts, and they certainly didn't need money. He sealed the deal when he aimlessly accepted Henrietta's gold as a reward without even asking if there's a catch. He was, like many adventurers, blinded by greed.

  He played the role of a gullible adventurer too well.

  Even so, he did not notice how Henrietta's tone subtly changed during the conversation, especially when she said 'only children play in the mud'. She did not care about politics, but she did find the merit of maneuvering it. It had been something that bothered her ever since she learned the rules of the court, and what the king expected his family to know. He was also sometimes forced to deal with hard decisions, some of which were unpopular for a time. She learned that decisions were made not from short-sighted situations; her father told her that it was best to be disliked than to lose the whole kingdom.

  "One day," she remembered him saying. "The citizens will appreciate you for what you chose. Yet, be mindful of what you do before then, or it will mark the end of your story."

  Yet it did not matter in the end. She was no longer human, and anyone who knew here were gone. In the end, she might end up being forgotten and forced to live as a dragon forever, never able to break the curse. She would forever be on the run, unable to become a true dragon with the cursed collar.

  That was the eventuality she feared.