John felt a sense of comfort and tranquillity, his head resting on a warm soft surface as he slowly became aware of the light touch of fingers brushing through his hair.

“No, pumpkin, I swear I didn’t do anything,” a gentle voice said with a British accent.

“Do you expect me to believe that, Daddy? I was told you were fine doing this meeting alone, but I came back to find John knocked out in a chair,” Moira’s voice quietly argued.

“I promise, pumpkin, I hadn’t even gotten the chance to start the meeting. I asked the boy to sit but it seemed like he couldn’t even hear me. He greeted me but his voice was sluggish and shaking; it looked like he was about to keel over,” the man explained to her.

Moira sighed. John slowly opened his eyes. He was facing an unlit fireplace. It was then that he realised exactly where he was: his head was resting on the skirt-clad lap of the Warden, her hand gently stroking his hair.

Memories of what had happened before passing out began to return. A spike of anxiety washed over him. Hearing Moira and who he assumed was Lord Brighton speaking much more casually, helped keep him calmer and more level-headed.

“Hey, you’re finally awake,” Moira said, her fingers retracting from his hair. “Are you okay?”

John looked up. Her chest, now back to its larger size, was close enough that it almost rested on his head. Luckily, it didn’t obscure his view of the warm, concerned smile of the redhead.

He sat up holding his head and letting out a groan. “I… uhm, I think so…” he said.

“What happened?” she asked, concern in her voice.

John rubbed the back of his neck. “I, I think I might have had a panic or anxiety attack…” he muttered.

Moira looked guilty, her eyes downcast. “I’m sorry, I promised you that I’d be with you and I went back on that,” she said. She then steeled herself and looked into John’s eyes. “I won’t do that again. If I make a promise, that should take priority, even more so because you are important to the Lady.”

John nodded and paused. “It’s fine. I’m really sorry, I don’t know what actually came over me. Over the last week or so, I’ve met gods and dragons and all kinds of things, so I really shouldn’t have been as panicked as I was,” he said, a frown adorning his face.

“Are you sure you are okay, son?” Lord Brighton asked.

John jumped, consciously taking in Lord Brighton's presence again, but he took a deep breath and nodded. “I… yes, I feel tense, but mostly I feel like an idiot for fainting,” he admitted.

Lord Brighton walked over towards the couch and sat down on the chair by them. He cleared his throat and looked at John, a soft expression on his face. “There is no reason to feel that way,” he began. “I received information about you from the interrogation the Warden and Lady Kim conducted. The situation around your introduction was untimely.

“Late bloomers such as yourself are a semi-rare occurrence, so when we discover one we like to extend our protection to them. I am aware that you have already been offered and declined and I’ve been asked not to press that issue. There are other things I would like to discuss, however, so when you are ready, we can start again.”

John took a shaken breath, he felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder and looked over at Moira, who was giving him a reassuring smile. He straightened up and looked at Lord Brighton. “I-it’s a pressure, I-I mean pleasure to meet you, Lord Brighton. I’m John Newman,” his voice was shaky.

Moira’s father gave a quick nod. “The pleasure is mine. Now.” He inhaled. “Miss Kaen’s testimony claims that you are a dragon of some kind, and my daughter believes that you are chosen by the Lady. I would like to hear from you on this subject.”

After getting his nerves under control, John nodded. ’Is it a good idea to tell them? My gut feeling is that it would be fine. I’ve acted before thinking more than a few times the past week or so, and those didn’t turn out exactly how I’d hoped. Did I go with my gut on those choices? Or were they just impulses?’ he thought.

“Where to begin?” John pondered. “Last Monday, I woke up with video game powers. I got pulled into the barrier Moira was in with the basilisk. I threw a rock at the thing to lure it away from Moira and then someone killed it. My powers caused the basilisk to drop items, and after exiting the barrier, I used one of those items which caused me to gain a dragon transformation ability. Right now I am limited to dragon eyes and claws.

“Some of the dragons I’ve encountered since have accused me of being a dragon or some kind of half-dragon. Recently, I learned that the source of my powers is Gaia or the Lady, but other than her being some kind of goddess, I don’t know what that really means… I think that's about everything?” John explained.

“Interesting, some of that does line up with what has been reported,” the Lord-Protector said. “I would like to witness the power you used on Moira. One moment.”

Lord Brighton retrieved a small bell and rang it, letting out a nice chime. The sound caused both the Lord himself and Moira to sit a little straighter. Only a beat passed before the door to the office opened and the butler from earlier walked in. “How may I be of assistance, my Lord?” he asked.

“Reginald, would you please brew some replenishing tea. I’d also like you to bring an awl,” the Lord requested. The butler nodded, placed his hand on his chest and bowed slightly before backing out of the room.

“It would be expected that I offer you a magic crystal in order to replenish the magic you will use for your demonstration. Unfortunately, right now we are unable to spare any. I hope that offering you a tea which will help speed up your magic recovery would be sufficient?” the Lord asked, looking at John.

“Oh, that isn’t necessary. It only costs ten mana per second of Healing Touch, so if I cast it for a couple of seconds, it should take less than ten minutes to recover.” John’s eyebrows raised. “Wait, I keep forgetting. Hemet gave me a mana gem, if I use that it will allow me to cast the spell for three seconds while not using any mana at all, would that be long enough?” John asked.

“Oh, Father, I forgot to mention. John’s magic recovery is remarkably fast and he is able to use an ability to further speed up his recovery,” Moira stated.

The door opened once again and Reginald stepped into the room carrying a silver tray with a rather nice looking teapot and three cups which he placed on the table. John spotted a silver metal spike with an ornate wooden handle on the platter. After pouring tea into all three cups, the butler picked up the large needle-like tool and stepped towards Lord Brighton.

Moira’s father extended his finger towards the butler and without a word the servant drew blood with a swift and precise movement. The Lord turned to John holding out the same finger. “If you wouldn’t mind?” he said.

John nodded. ’I’ll wait and see if I need to use the crystal. It might waste it if I use the crystal and then have some kind of mana recovery boost,’ he reasoned internally before he shuffled closer to Lord Brighton. He extended his hand and took the man's finger. Taking a breath he cast Healing Touch. Only a second passed before the Lord-Protector retracted his hand. “That will be enough, thank you. If you would like a cup of tea, it should hasten your magic recovery.”

John nodded and took the cup that Reginald held out towards him. He took a sip and was pleasantly surprised at the lemon-mint flavour.

He opened his character sheet to see what the effects of the tea were and saw he was currently under the effects of two different buffs.

Buff: Diminutive Mana Recovery

Duration: 5 minutes
Remaining: 4m47s
Mana Regeneration increased by 5%

The buff was very small, though not unappreciated, any increase to mana regen was a nice little bonus. The second window caused John’s stomach to drop.

Debuff: Mana Burnout

Duration: 10 hours
Remaining: 9h13m
Mana Regen altered (INT/75 per minute)

John’s stomach dropped. The last time he’d seen that debuff was right after waking in the Order’s tent the other day. John’s head snapped around to look at the room, or more specifically the spot he last remembered standing in.

His brow furrowed as he looked in the direction. A handful of things on the desk stood out due to them being placed haphazardly, and there was a deep fresh scratch in the surface of the wood.

John lifted his hand and looked at it. “I, uhm…” he said.

“That is something we should discuss too,” Moira spoke, her hand coming to rest on John’s shoulders. “I think the panic attack triggered the fight or flight reaction Miss Kaen spoke about. According to her, the state isn’t a common thing for dragons to actually enter.”

“John, if you wouldn’t mind sitting again. You are not in trouble, but as Moira said, it is something we should speak about,” Lord Brighton said.

He hadn’t realised but he’d half stood when he turned to look at the desk. John nodded and sat back down fully.

“Kaen had assured us that your fight or flight reaction wouldn’t be something to worry about, so it hadn’t been something I planned to speak about. Since you were affected by it, however, I think it’s an unavoidable topic,” Lord Brighton said. “Going into an uncontrollable rage is quite a concern. How many times has this happened?”

John took a deep breath and looked down at his hands as he twiddled his thumbs. “Only two… It would have been three, but last time I realised what was happening and was able to fight it off.”

Both Lord Brighton and Moira looked at John with a degree of surprise.

“You fought off your natural defences?” Moira questioned.

John nodded looking at Moira. “Yeah, think I was still a little on edge from the dragon barrier and then getting interrogated, so when I fell, I could feel the instinct trying to take over but there were innocent people close by, and if I didn’t do anything, I might have hurt them,” John explained.

Lord Brighton nodded, a pensive expression on his face. “That information is quite good, it alleviates the worry that you might rampage Springfield. Why did you not fight it earlier on?”

“Father! He was having a panic attack, it makes sense that he wouldn’t even realise that he was going into that state,” Moira surmised. “John, are you prone to panic or anxiety attacks?”

Shaking his head, John looked between the Brightons. “No, I have had them before, but I think the last time was when I was like fifteen or sixteen maybe?” John said.

“I don’t think John is a danger; you are more intimidating to people than you think, Father. I don’t blame John for having a panic attack from your meeting and I trust his word that he was able to suppress it before,” Moira defended.

Lord Brighton nodded again. “We will need to monitor the situation, but for now I will trust my daughter's judgement,” he said. “Now, I think we have something else to address.”

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