I can add “dragon” to the list of beasties I’ve killed before they could kill me (time with the Father’s taught me that the distinction’s important). A black dragon the size of a b-b-barn went by the name of Rythnax (I thought it was Riffnacks at first) and was the one pulling Berringer’s strings. The boss didn’t like hearing that his leg man led us here and terminated his employment (do dragon’s floss?), and then we terminated Rythnax. I say we because the rest of us didn’t interfere as the Father called on St. Michael and basically burned a hole in it.
I got an interesting new contract out of the deal: design tools to facilitate the tanning and working of dragon hide into wearable leather. Something about wearing the skin of something I had a brief conversation with really don’t sit right with me, so I’m opting out of the results of this work, but if the rest of the teams wants to do it, they can.
On the subject of finery, I had to get dolled up to attend a party at the Cortland estate, part of our reward for finding the missing volumes (apparently one of Rythnax’s hobbies was mystical history). Ms. Greenleaf from the library seemed willing to go along with me, so I asked her out. (At some goading and advice from the gang, thought I think Father Ryan was interested at getting me distance from Mary Catherine). Only later would I realize their foul intention: a speech needed to be given, and I was offered up as sacrifice to this horrible purpose.
Yeah, I complain, but I actually didn’t do a bad job. I can afford suits that make me feel like I belong on a stage now, the speech I gave back in Indy gave me some practice, and I had a wonderful asshole to speak against. Yep, the president of Hexaco, that infamous company that just about bought the entire town of Manchac that keeps getting infested with one for of abomination or another, scored himself an invite to Cortland’s little affair and didn’t like to hear bad about his company, especially when it was the truth. Everyone else liked the story plenty, enough that the president left with a huge chip on his shoulder, while I left with the wonderful Ms. Greenleaf.
I’m writing this down while I can look around and see proof that everything happened as I’m telling it. Also, it’s a decent way to get recent events out of my brain before I gotta revisit the more distant past. Doc Kelso’s going to trial today, and all of us’re meaning to testify against the transmogrifying SoB. Should be a simple but long day, but I don’t know. Ain’t never known anything involving Kelso to go like it should.