The town of Carlesi took its name from the Carlesian mountain range that spanned the nations of Manarithia and Clydeth, with parts spilling into Wyrith and the Eastern Sea. Most of the range was within Manarithia, which contributed to the kingdom's varied climate, ranging from subtropical to temperate. The border between the two kingdoms were right in the middle of the mountain, with an official sign and border control situated in the mountainous town of Tisnei (on the Manarithian side), and the town of Blythen (Clydethian side). Bartlett had never been to the mountain town before, considering how he did not really travel to Clydeth to find work.

  Bartlett was once suggested by some of his acquaintances to visit the mountains, even though some, especially seasoned adventurers, suggested that he should not. Those who thought positively of the mountains saw it as a place to unwind due to the abundance of resort towns. Those who thought negatively of it regarded it as a treacherous region, particularly for adventurers whose quest brought them to the mountains. While the surface of the snowy mountains was relatively safe and perfect for a winter getaway, the interior of the mountains was home to many unknowns. The highest peaks were unreachable and were home to dragons. The caves were so extensive that one could get lost and become the victims of whatever lurked within. Only the dwarves were able to thrive well, seen from the establishment of the mountain town of Corlusbo.

  Carlesi did not escape this reputation either, at least from the impression Bartlett had when he was learning about the town from a tavern in a small village at the base of the mountain. He did not need to be subtle about the witch, as she was apparently a local figure, both negative and positive.

  Bartlett could not be sure of the information he got, especially when he found that most of the patrons did not think highly of travelers like him. They either dismissed him as 'too southern' owing to his suntanned skin or because of his draconic companion. They were clearly intimidated by a dragon rider's presence. Some who did give him information already downed their third pint of the day, so they were unreliable.

  Thankfully, like every tavern, the bartender was always the most reliable source of information. Ironically, he was a canine person, probably a wolf, one of Clydeth's native beast people, with a mix of red-brown fur that were shaggy and unkempt, with most of it covered by a long-sleeved shirt. He had a handsome lupine head, with every features one would expect to find in a wolf. His yellow eyes gazed at the newcomer, who sat at the counter.

  "Anything you need?" asked the indifferent lupine bartender.

  "One shot of brandy," said Bartlett. The bartender obliged.

  He took a small sip, tasting the sweetness of said brandy and the burning alcohol aftertaste. Feeling more confident already, he asked, "What can you tell me about Carlesi?"

  "The town or the witch?" asked the bartender. "Sorry if I sound curt, but that's what anyone's asking about these days. If it's not superstitious folks, then it's the knights. Often times, they came back down from the mountains defeated. They told me that she's nowhere to be found. Others are less courteous. If it wasn't for how I look, they would vent their frustrations on me. Hopefully, you don't do the same, traveler."

  "Ah. Well...that's a little discouraging."

  "But I'm not the kind of person who'd rudely turn away a paying customer, especially one who's riding a dragon," said the lupine bartender while eyeing at Henrietta through the window. "Never have I met a purple dragon like her before."

  "Uh...she's more of a pink for me," said Bartlett.

  "Ah. Perhaps it's how I perceive color with my eyes," said the bartender, sneaking a smile. "Latranians see the world differently than humans."

  The lupine bartender then took the glass Bartlett just drank from, assuming that he wouldn't stay long. This was further reinforced by Bartlett himself, who pulled out a silver coin for the brandy. Yet, one shot of brandy did not usually cost that much. This was a silent request from the bartender to seek information, as was customary for adventurers seeking information in their quest.

  The bartender simply obliged.

  "If you seek answers, you better ask the Carlesians about it," said the lupine bartender. "But be wary of their responses."

  "Why? What's wrong with them?" asked Bartlett

  The bartender responded cryptically.

  "You don't get to hide this long without devotees."

  Bartlett, assuming that the bartender was talking about the witch's followers and the possible spell she might trap him in, said, "I'm not so easily charmed. I brought precautions."

  The Latranian chuckled, amused by Bartlett's confidence. "Pray that it is enough, human."

  Bartlett smiled back at the lupine person, walking out of the bar with better understanding of what he was up against. The other bar patrons fixed their gaze towards him, but soon looked away once their eyes met with his dragon's blue eyes, moments before Bartlett closed the door.

  "Had a good drink?" asked Henrietta.

  "Not enough to be considered good," said Bartlett. "But I'll take it. I don't drink on a job."

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  "Anything you're willing to share?"

  Nothing except that we might find our answer in Carlesi, and the fact that we should be wary of the witch's followers."

  "She has followers? That's new. Rodvar never mentioned anything about followers."

  "He might be none the wiser. Let's go."

  Henrietta accepted that perhaps Rodvar did not know about it and prepared herself. She hoped her teeth and claws were enough against the witch's spell, though she was unsure. The witch's long survival was not because of her being tough, but because she was elusive. Having followers loyal to her would make that matter more complicated.

  The road to Carlesi, as both Henrietta and Bartlett realized, was craggy. Sometimes, it did not resemble any roads at all. They only managed to find the right way from the signs, which did not say much other than pointing them towards either the town or the Manarithia-Clydeth border crossing. After a while, the road branched, and the two followed the sign directing them to Carlesi, crossing a stone bridge. Henrietta was glad that they finally reached paved road again. The craggy path to the town felt dangerous.

  After two hours from the village at the base of the mountain, they finally reached the town of Carlesi. Both expected the town to be run-down and the people wary of travelers, noting the notoriety of the mountains. Instead, it was the opposite.

  The town, while clearly old enough to have cobblestone and wood foundation, was well-maintained and was populated with people of many kinds. There were Manarithian knights, traders, and more populating the town. It was a clear, relatively warm day, after all, given that it was late summer.

  "Doesn't look like a place to find a witch," said Bartlett. Henrietta concurred with a grunt, not wanting anyone to turn their attention to her simply because she talked.

  Bartlett's first and most reliable source of information was usually the tavern, so he asked Henrietta to stay while he asked anyone in the tavern who might have an information he needed, or simply clues he could discuss with the dragon. He climbed down her back and promptly walked towards the tavern. It was rather crowded for the day, with people having drinks and talked to one another. Some even smoked their pipes, exuding a rather pleasant aroma of the herb they smoked. Bartlett was not a smoker, so he couldn't appreciate the taste, though he was not averse to it. They seemed to be discussing something about a mine opening, which can supplant the town's coffers. There was nothing unusual there.

  He sat on the counter, with the bartender wiping a washed mug and let it dry. He looked up and saw Bartlett and said, "Well, well. A new face. Haven't seen a stranger for a while now."

  "I'm just passing by," said Bartlett.

  "Nonsense, my friend. You don't go to a mining town without a reason, especially not a dragon rider."

  Bartlett raised an eyebrow. "How do you know I'm a dragon rider?"

  "Somebody shouted 'dragon' and almost turned the whole place upside down. If it wasn't for someone else pointing out the riding gear, we might need to consider your presence here. It's a surprise, but a welcome one. I mean, you usually fly above us, never even bothering to visit. Dragon's not doing well, perhaps?"

  "Something like that," said Bartlett. He was trying not to ask about the witch, heeding the warning about her having followers. Just in case, he wore a magick dispelling pendant he brought as a precaution.

  "Ah, I see," said the bartender. Bartlett failed to notice that he was staring at his pendant.

  "Care for a drink?" he offered

  "I'd rather not," said Bartlett, aware that it could potentially be spiked. "I'm just here to rest. I'll be on my way soon.."

  "Where to?"

  "Clydeth. It's just over the other side of the mountain, right?"

  The bartender chuckled. "Of course, you are. Then again, this town is far from the border, and the road leading to said border is closer than the road leading to this town. Like I said. No one went here without a reason. If you're not here to rest, or to visit the mines, then perhaps you are looking for someone? A witch, perhaps?"

  Bartlett's expression turned serious. He did not immediately answer. The bartender chuckled, this time rather deep and menacing

  "Oh, my friend. You made a mistake," said the bartender. "Even if you try to hide your intentions, once I asked you the right questions, your expression changed. It always works."

  "Sorry. I'm not good at lying," said Bartlett, hand on his sword. The bartender noticed this and clicked his tongue.

  "So quick to resort to violence, my friend?" asked the bartender. "Perhaps a drink, so we can talk about this in peace?"

  Bartlett scoffed. "Do you really think I'd fall for...that?"

  His vision started to blur and distort. He stumbled on his chair, starting to lose his balance.

  "H-how?" he wondered in his confusion. He never drank anything ever since he entered the tavern. Did someone used a laced tip? The chair he sat on? His mind started to wander as he started to feel disoriented, not realizing that everyone in that tavern were staring at him silently, not even asking if he was okay or even worried. They stared at him silently.

  "How, indeed?" said the bartender, whose smile widened. His voice started to become distorted. "Why use something so obvious, when you can fill the whole room with it?"

  Bartlett couldn't even think straight. The bartender's voice and the laughter around him sounded distorted and surreal it started to overwhelm his senses. He lost his balance and fell to the floor. Soon, he lost his strength, lying on the floor and staring at the ceiling. The whole world was spinning, and he couldn't stay in place.

  His distorted vision started to change again, this time with colors. There were patterns...shapes. Things. He wasn't sure how to describe it, but the colors were so vibrant and bright. It's like a rainbow right in front of his eyes, turning everything into a rather messy kaleidoscopic view. He tried to turn away, but it was still there, filling his vision with distorted images. He couldn't feel anything else, even his body. He did not know what he was touching, or what he was on.

  As he was being overwhelmed by the visions, the bartender stood nearby as he looked at the patron who was smoking. He let out a smile.

  "No one ever suspect a pipe smoker," said the bartender. "Hmm?"

  The bartender noticed a jeweled pendant and felt the magick emanating from it. He chuckled.

  "Clever," said the bartender as he pulled the pendant off Bartlett. "Unfortunately, this is not magick. This is nothing more than mushrooms. Very potent, and not as pungent as you expect it to be. Once you got a whiff of it, you'll feel like you've been teleported to a place of pure magick. You prepared well, my friend, but unfortunately, you did not count your nose."

  Noting that Bartlett could no longer hear him and was already staring blankly into space. The bartender stopped. He then looked outside towards the pink-scaled dragon, oblivious to what its rider was currently doing. He noted something on her, specifically, the black collar decorated with runes.

  "Interesting," said the bartender. "Perhaps a test is in order. Why don't we prepare you for a little game, my friend? It's not everyday you get to play with a dragon."

  He looked at Bartlett, now unresponsive and started to drool as his jaw slackened. The bartender's chuckle turned to laugh.

  Everyone always fall before they even met with the witch.