Dotted Line

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Cármen slowly shook her head in disbelief, her fingers twitching over the array of documents strewn across the table. Contracts, projections, arcane schematics—each one more staggering than the last. "T-this is unbelievable," she stammered, her voice low with awe. "D-does he truly understand the impacts these technologies will have? The scale of this?"

Across from her, Mirabel sat with perfect poise, a polite smile softening her features. Yet beneath the civility, there was no hiding the flicker of pride in her eyes—a quiet, gleaming certainty that bordered on reverence. "From what I know of Lord Fae," Mirabel replied smoothly, "he is a meticulous planner. And, as you witnessed outside, subtlety isn't exactly his preferred method of making an entrance. Especially not after what your...British counterpart attempted."

Cármen barely heard the words. Her mind was still reeling, replaying the moment over and over—the impossible sight of Thane transforming in broad daylight, as casual as if he had merely slipped on a new cloak. A dragon. Not just any dragon, but a towering, silver-scaled titan that had blotted out the sun with its wings and shook the air with its very presence.

The laws of magic themselves bristled against what she had seen. Animagi could only transform into mundane, non-magical creatures. It was a limitation so fundamental that even the oldest, most accomplished wizards had never found a way around it. And yet...Thane Fae had done it, effortlessly shattering one of the oldest known barriers of magical theory as if it were no more than an inconvenience.

Trying to find a rational explanation was a lost cause.

Cármen pressed a trembling hand to her forehead, barely able to process the reality sitting across from her. If even half of the technological marvels in front of her made it to market, combined with the living legend she had just witnessed then not even the combined ministries of Europe would be able to restrain Fae Inc.'s rise.

"Minister Cármen?" Mirabel asked gently, her voice breaking through the heavy fog of contemplation swirling around the Brazilian Minister.

Cármen blinked, clearing her mind with a slow, deliberate shake of her head. "Apologies," she said, exhaling deeply. "I'm afraid that what you're proposing has overwhelmed me... it's made me reconsider—well, quite honestly, everything."

Mirabel dipped her head in acknowledgment, her expression calm and reassuring. "As it should," she said smoothly. "Accepting this deal would place Brazil at the very forefront of the Magical Industrial Revolution. You would be leading the next era, not trailing behind it."

"Yes," Cármen agreed, her voice tight, "but with that comes a lot of eyes on my country. Eyes that see opportunities—and weaknesses. Attention like that can be a blessing or a curse." She fixed Mirabel with a steady gaze. "I want to be clear. While the benefits you're offering are... almost irresistible, I have a duty to my people and to my country to ensure we are not exploited or reduced to a stepping stone."

"Of course," Mirabel said warmly, as if she had anticipated the concern. "Which is why Fae Inc. is offering additional assurances."

With a graceful motion, she pushed forward a thick document adorned with intricate seals and sigils. "First," Mirabel explained, "we are willing to waive any and all GADS registry fees for Brazilian citizens—provided they maintain at least five years of tenure—for the next two years. No hidden clauses. No trickery."

Cármen's fingers brushed the page almost reverently, understanding the immense financial opportunity this represented for her people. But Mirabel wasn't finished.

"In addition," Mirabel continued, her voice gaining momentum, "we would be willing to submit ourselves to a required quota of Brazilian employees in our Mithril Refineries and our Formation Factories used to assemble inscribed components vital for our production of cornerstones, bank sigils, and our newest product Fae Mirrors, that allows instant communication regardless of distance along with image sharing capacity."

She pushed two more hefty stacks of parchment across the table, each sealed and notarized to ensure their authenticity.

Cármen let out a bitter, half-laugh, shaking her head once more. "I don't even know why I'm fighting this at this point," she admitted, a touch of resigned humor in her tone. "We both know I'm going to accept."

Mirabel smiled, the glint of victory subtle but unmistakable. "You're not surrendering, Minister. You're leading."

"You can coat your words in honey, but it doesn't make the truth any sweeter," Cármen said, her voice low but steady. She tapped the stack of contracts lightly with one manicured finger. "Fae Inc. is about to establish a monopoly on magical trade. Countries won't be adopting your technology because they want to — they'll have no choice if they hope to stay relevant in the global economy. And people — least of all those in power — don't take kindly to being forced into anything." Her gaze hardened. "Don't expect the rest of the world to be as open-minded as I am."

For the first time, Mirabel's polite smile dimmed. But where the warmth faded, something sharper and colder flickered into view: a glint of vindictive eagerness that was impossible to miss.

"Thank you for the warning, Minister," Mirabel said, her voice now carrying a new weight — one that dared the world to try and stop them. "But I believe Fae Inc. is more than equipped to handle any... undue aggression."

At that moment, a sharp knock sounded against the door. A second later, one of Cármen's advisors poked their head into the room, their eyes wide with something between awe and disbelief.

"E-excuse me, Minister, but I believe you'll want to see this," they stammered, voice barely keeping pace with their urgency.

Without waiting for further clarification, Cármen rose from her seat, her movements brisk, a ripple of tension running through her. Mirabel was quick to follow, her instincts already telling her this was something significant.

The advisor led them swiftly down the hall and outside onto a raised stone walkway where a crowd had already gathered, buzzing with low murmurs. Heads craned upward, eyes squinting against the afternoon sun.

Following their gaze, Cármen stepped up to the edge of the railing—and froze.

Against the brilliant blue sky, distant but unmistakable, a procession of massive creatures cut across the heavens. Scales shimmered like molten jewels under the sunlight—reds, golds, greens, deep onyx, and pure silver glinting in formation. The dragons flew in a loose but purposeful V-shape, their great wings slicing through the sky with slow, majestic beats.

At the apex of the formation, leading the flight like a general commanding his army, was Thane. His silver scales blazed like a falling star, his size eclipsing that of the others. Even from this distance, there was no mistaking him.

"So many..." Cármen breathed, her words almost lost to the growing hum of awe from the crowd. Her fingers unconsciously gripped the stone railing. "Where is he taking them all?"

"Most likely," Mirabel said smoothly, stepping up beside her, "to the Fae Magical Conservatory. Though..." she added with a wry, exasperated smile, "I do believe I've just inherited a new logistical nightmare."

Cármen turned sharply to glance at her.

"Habitat creation for this many dragons will be... challenging," Mirabel admitted with a shrug. "But on the bright side, with this one move, we may have just established the largest Dragon Reserve in the world."

She paused, her smile deepening, sharp with ambition.

"And it means we'll soon be able to offer the finest quality dragon blood and scales on the market."

Cármen shook her head once before turning around to head back inside, "Come on, no point in delaying the inevitable, I'll get my good pen and sign on the dotted line." 

"Only if you wish Minister," Mirabel replied with a teasing lilt before they made their way back inside.