"J'zargo is just saying, the small dragon has not done anything worthy of the title of 'Greatest Hero in the Multiverse,'" said the impudent, rude, and most of all wrong cat.

  They were seven days into the trip across a frigid and boring plain that Einar had called 'The Pale,' on the north western side of which lay Dimhollow Crypt and the supposedly important 'Elder Scroll' that the vampires wanted so much. If Caprifexia had been alone, she could have crossed the seemingly endless and featureless sea of snow in a matter of hours, but with her two mortal charges things were much slower. And more annoying.

  "I saved Einar from a pack of werewolves," she countered.

  "One of those was the Dovahkiin, J'zargo does not think that counts as 'heroism,'" said J'zargo.

  "And a vampire!"

  "J'zargo thinks that may have been luck, but even if it was not, that does not make the small dragon 'the Greatest Hero in the Multiverse.'"

  "And I killed all those other vampires!"

  "No, that was J'zargo," said J'zargo, rewriting history. "The small dragon killed one intentionally, then got captured and destroyed one more unintentionally, before nearly dying and needing the mighty J'zargo's rescue."

  "How do you know it was 'unintentional?'" she said. "You didn't even know the plan in the first place! And I saved your life too – after you fell for the nasty elf Arakno's obvious lies."

  "Einar was the one who carried J'zargo, and convinced Soren Markov-"

  "Who?" she said.

  "The one you foolishly call 'Sorbet Melon,'" said J'zargo.

  "You're the foolish one. And wrong. And ugly. And mean."

  "-and convinced Soren to spare your life and heal us," continued J'zargo, managing to ignore her ego-crushing insights into his character. "The small dragon also nearly died."

  "Yeah well… you're just an overgrown house pet!" said Caprifexia.

  "Capri!" said Einar. "You can'tsay that! We've talked about this."

  "And you're just a silly looking mortal ape!" said Caprifexia, no longer willing to indulge his wishy-washy, touchy-feely mortal proclivity for dancing around the truth. "You can't tell me what to do! I'm a dragon! The apex of life in the multiverse! The most intelligent and powerful and… and… best species there is! You're just insects compared to me!"

  "J'zargo, please stop winding her up," said Einar.

  "J'zargo is merely correcting the small dragon's fallacious view of her own so-called achievements," said the nasty cat.

  "J'zargo, she's two," said Einar.

  "J'zargo fails to see why that means he should indulge her nonsense," said J'zargo. "Children need to hear the truth so they can learn; the small dragon even more than usual."

  "And cats need to be set on fire!" she stated, factually.

  "Oh hey, look," said Einar, pointing to a the decaying circular ruins of a mud-brick. "We can make camp there – it will keep the wind off at least."

  Caprifexia didn't see what they had to do with flaming felines, but it did get J'zargo to shut up, and she was finally able to return her attention to her book as the two mortals began unpacking and setting up for their needlessly complicated and inefficient non-dried-fish based evening meal.

  She was distracted from her study, however, by an annoyingly prickly magical field to the north, which only grew more irritating as she attempted, for what felt like the hundredth time, to go through the book's meditation exercises to try and 'connect' with the land's mana.

  "Ugh!" she said, opening her eyes and flapping into the air.

  "What is it?" asked Einar, looking up from a pot of watery looking 'food.'

  "There is some annoying magic – probably some kind of object, to the north," she said. "I'm going to go and destroy it."

  "J'zargo – can you go with her?" asked Einar. "Make sure it isn't some kind of trap or something?"

  "I am not a child!" protested Caprifexia.

  "J'zargo supposes," said the Khajiite in an irritated voice, as if he was the one being imposed on, putting down his own book and standing. "Come along then, small angry dragon – let us see whatever this latest delusion of yours is."

  Caprifexia huffed and flapped off in the direction she had felt the magic come from, not waiting for the arrogant feline to catch up.

  To the north of the ruined hut was a small rise, at the top of which a cairn marked a burial site. That, by itself, wasn't unusual. Due to the mortal propensity to die, there were mortal grave-sites absolutely everywhere, and you couldn't walk five meters in any direction without tripping over some ancient memorial or the other.

  What was odd, however, was the wailing spirit next to it. A human-shaped azure figure that wandered back and forth next to the rocky plinth, swearing and wailing and cursing in a feminine voice.

  "It is just a ghost," said J'zargo coming to a stop and turning. "Ignore it."

  "Shouldn't we exorcise it?" said Caprifexia. "It seems distressed – that's bad, isn't it?"

  Stopping mortals for being distressed – which was a never-ending concern – was, as she understood it, a central part of being a hero. And she was a hero. A great hero. The greatesthero. A much better hero than silly J'zargo. And she was going to prove it to the arrogant moggie, even if she had solve every single meaningless and mundane mortal neurosis from Skyrim to Blackrock.

  "Since when does the small dragon care about random spirits?" said J'zargo. "And even if the small dragon knew the spells to release it, which J'zargo doubts, we do not have time. We need to get to Dimhollow Crypt as soon as possible, as well as warn the Vigilants of Stendarr that the vampires are targeting them."

  "You might be a terrible hero, you overgrown hairball, but I am not," she grinned, vindicated. "Go and have your horrible stew and be a non-hero. I, Caprifexia, greatest hero in the multiverse, will set this spirit free – heroically! Unlike you, who won't."

  "The small dragon may do as she wishes, J'zargo does not care – but we are leaving tomorrow morning," said the cat, defeated, turning and stalking back towards the hut.

  Caprifexia watched the terrible excuse for a hero retreat smugly, before flapping over to the ghost and alighting on the cairn.

  "You there, ghost – why are you still here?" demanded Caprifexia. "Why hasn't your spirit faded?"

  The ghost turned at her words. It was impossible for Caprifexia to make out any kind of distinct features, but from the tips of ears that poked through the ghost's long silver hair it seemed that they had been an elf in life.

  "What are you?" said the ghost eventually, it's simple echo of a mind clearly struggling to cope with new stimuli.

  "I am Caprifexia, a dragon and the greatest hero in the multiverse," explained Caprifexia.

  "A very small dragon," said the ghost sceptically.

  "Yes, well… I'm young," said Caprifexia. "Now answer my question shade – why are you still here?"

  "A wizard bound and trapped my spirit," said the ghost. "A hero, you say? Will you free me?"

  Caprifexia didn't actually care about the ghost one way or the other, but that annoying cat had denied her self-evidently true credentials as a hero and thus a demonstration was required, something that showed just how superior she was to the foolish feline. While he indulged his pathetic mortal need for sleep, she would save this decrepit echo from its torment. Heroically.

  And then rub his ugly mortal face in it.

  "Of course," said Caprifexia. "That's what heroes do. Free people."

  "Excellent. The anchor to the spell lies in a cave to the north," said the ghost, clapping her ethereal hands together before turning and wafting further away from the ruined hut. "Please, 'hero,' this way."

  Caprifexia flapped off after it, heading further away from the hut and out into the seemingly endless flat plane of snow. Above her the stars shone in the cloudless sky, and a green and blue aurora danced across the horizon. A mortal might have thought it bitterly cold, but Caprifexia was largely indifferent to the late autumn evening – she certainly preferred it to the summer she had arrived in; snow and ice and howling wind meant no insects.

  She flew for almost ten minutes before the ghost finally arrived at a shallow, mostly snow filled depression that seemed to be the entrance to a cave or tomb. For a wizard as incredible as Caprifexia it was a simple matter to melt the hard packed frost away, revealing a worn set of stairs leading down into the earth.

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  To Caprifexia's continued delight she didn't see even a single spiderweb as her warelight danced over the roughly cut walls, nor any hint of any kind of creepy crawly denizen whatsoever.

  "Thank the Titans, a bugless tomb – finally," she said.

  "I make sure to keep it clean of living filth," said the friendly ghost as they descended deeper into the darkness. The natural rock slowly gave way to artificial walls of smooth, cut stone, and the water on the damp floor began to be siphoned away by channels caved into the polished floor.

  "What was this place?" asked Caprifexia, idly examining an artistic embossed carving of a screaming faces on the wall. The artisan had been quite skilled, and although worn from the ravages of time, it almost looked as if someone had petrified a whole host of men and women and set them into the wall with magic.

  "A laboratory," said the ghost, becoming more animated, its edges beginning to flicker a deep blood red. "In life, I was a wizard. A visionary. A pioneer! But my so-called colleagues were cowards. They said the magic I used was 'dark.' Fools. There is no such thing as dark magic and light magic!"

  "Mortals do love to project their ridiculous morality onto amoral mechanics of the universe," agreed Caprifexia. "They're stupid like that."

  "Yes. Yes. Mortals," said the friendly ghost enthusiastically. "They content themselves wither and die, as if it is some kind of badge of honour! As if giving in to entropy is something to be lauded, rather than a weakness to be overcome!"

  "You know, it is nice to talk to someone reasonable for a change," said Caprifexia, nodding along as they reached a large metal door covered in a runic lock of some kind. "Normally mortals get annoyed when I point out their never-ending shortcomings."

  Before she had been largely indifferent to the ghost itself, but now she was beginning to feel good to be helping such a nice spirit find rest. Perhaps Captifexia had made one or two small missteps, but now she was really getting the hang of being a hero.

  There were two humanoid skeletons slumped on the ground front of the door. They seemed to have died while attempting to crawl away, and each of them had an arm outstretched in the direction of the entrance. Around their necks they wore metal chains, attached to which were small trinkets in the shape of hunting-horns, and although the magic was heavily diminished, Caprifexia could feel they were enchanted.

  Caprifexia swooped down and picked one up, holding it up to her warelight and casting a quick diagnostic spell on the object. The magic seemed designed to ward off blows and reduce their impact. It was quite cleverly made, for a mortal artefact, although far too degraded to be of any use.

  "The small minded fools who imprisoned me – religious zealots," said the ghost venomously, gesturing to the corpses as Caprifexia dropped the necklace back to the dusty tiles. "The door is enchanted – you will need to break the ward."

  "It won't be a problem," said Caprifexia, extending her mystical senses as she cast her eyes over the door. The spell matrix looked rather tricky, but she was a dragon – it wouldn't prove much of a challenge for her.

  Two hours later Caprifexia snarled as the last part of the ward destabilised and the defensive magic discharged with a crackle of electricity.

  "Finally," spat Caprifexia, blasting the now flimsy metal door off its hinges and flapping through into the next room.

  "There may be Dragur," warned the friendly ghost, floating in behind her. "They usually form at loci of power, and this was my laboratory – I had many… cadavers."

  "Well, obviously," said Caprifexia. "What sort of laboratory doesn't have cadavers? How would you practice necromancy?"

  "Yes, yes! Precisely," said the ghost with glee. "Oh, dear Caprifexia, I am glad that it was you who found me. I had been worried that I would have to trick whatever idiot eventually stumbled upon me into helping: most people are so squeamish about the more exotic areas of the art. But you are such a sensible young wizard."

  "The most sensible," agreed Caprifexia.

  "I have many books in my inner sanctum that may interest you."

  "I do like books," said Caprifexia, feeling even more pleased with how well her heroing was going. Caprifexia was sure that J'zargo couldn't have done half as well – he'd probably still be at the annoying warded door.

  Well, he'd had his chance to join her, and chosen not to – he'd just have to live with not getting to look at the new books the friendly ghost was going to give her as payment for her heroism. In addition to the imminent, inevitable and crushing epiphany that Caprifexia was better than him at absolutely everything.

  They proceeded onward, emerging into a large cave with a chasm running down the middle of it. To her left a waterfall cascaded down into darkness, and far below she could hear the water running away into some even deeper subterranean cavern. There was a rickety looking stone bridge spanning the gap, although it had crumbled away in places and would have been perilous for any mortal to cross on foot.

  Thankfully Caprifexia was infinitely superior to mortals in virtually infinite ways, such as her ability to fly, and so she simply flapped over the deep abyss, the friendly ghost gliding along beside her.

  As Caprifexia reached the other side she caught the first whiff of necromantic magic, and with a rattle of bones half a dozen skeletons, all wearing the same horn necklaces as the two bodies near the first door, emerged from the gloom, glaring at her with frosty blue eyes.

  "More of the fanatics who chained me to this place," said the ghost. "Mindless undead – just waiting to be broken to your will. I can teach you how-"

  "I already know necromancy," said Caprifexia, as indigo light crackled around her talons. She reached out, grabbing the mind of the nearest skeleton and breaking the remnant of will to her own. Its eyes flickered, the blue shifting into indigo as she solidified her hold on it.

  "Yes, yes! Excellent!" cackled the friendly ghost from beside her, clapping her hands together as Caprifexia flapped out of range of the others and grinned down at the baleful, but powerless glowing eyes of the skeletons. "A good spell young one, but you're too focused on the individuals. These are unbound undead – there is no other wizard to battle for control of their minds: generalise the spell."

  Caprifexia had never tried a cast necromancy spell like that before – but then again the friendly ghost seemed to be experienced, and Caprifexia had only ever covered the basics back at Blackrock Spire. Carefully, taking the ghost's tips under provisional advisement she modified her spell, releasing a blanket of indigo energy that settled over the massed skeletons.

  It took longer to break the group than a single individual, but the ghost was right, without any single unified will to oppose and thwart her spell, the skeleton's feeble remnants of will flailed about aimlessly as they shuddered and shook, and gradually the skeleton's eyes shifted from azure to purple.

  "You seem to have a knack for necromancy," said the friendly ghost. "You would make a fine apprentice, Caprifexia."

  "Of course I would," she agreed. "I am a dragon."

  "Come – my study, my prison is not far from here," said the ghost drifting onward.

  Caprifexia flapped after them, bringing the shambling skeletons with her as she moved into a large room lined with bookshelves. There were several tables in the centre of the room, on which lay shackled skeletons. They rattled at her, and gnashed their teeth, but were unable to do anything else.

  At the far end lay a stone desk, atop which a pulsating purple gem hovered. The gem was surrounded by a runic containment array, carved into the stone and glowing with soft golden light. At it's base was another skeleton, this one totally inanimate, their bony fingers wrapped around a staff.

  "My prison, and the wizard who died gaoling me" said the ghost, gesturing to it as Caprifexia alighted on the desk. "With it in place, I can only manifest this… shade, and only in the area directly around my tomb."

  "I thought you said you were a ghost," said Caprifexia with a frown. "That I was releasing you so you could move on?"

  "That was before I realised you were no small minded fool," said the shade. "That you too understandthat magic is magic, and only cretins would put shackles upon its research. That we are wizards, we do not limit ourselves by the morals of prattling mortals."

  "You're a lich," said Caprifexia, examining the gem, which was clearly a phylactery.

  It was simpler than the one that her people had kept in Blackrock Spire as a learning aid, but the essential form and spellwork was more or less the same – at least, she thought so, she didn't know the intricate details of the ritual used to make them. Given that the Lich hadn't started to go insane, it couldn't have been more than a century or two old. That was good, since insane liches couldn't help her get better at necromancy.

  "Yes – yes. You see, you understand," said the shade. "Release me, and you may take whatever books you like from my study!"

  Caprifexia did like learning about new magic, and the friendly lich had already proven a good source of knowledge on necromancy – so they might not even be terribly written. And besides, heroes freed trapped people – didn't they? What could be more heroic than trapping a poor spell researcher who had been unfairly targeted by ridiculous superstitious mortals?

  Nothing – obviously.

  "One moment," said Caprifexia extending a claw and her magic, destabilising the runic trap. It wasn't hard, since all of it's defences were pointed inward, and after a moment the runes sparked and fizzled.

  The shade cackled with joy, and a dark shadow launched itself from phyactery and swooped over the room, settling into one of the bound skeletons. The eyes turned a burning red, and the restraints and buckles snapped as the creature rose from the table.

  "At last!" said the friendly lich, cackling gleefully as the illusion of an elven woman shimmered into being around her new frame, complete with ornate purple and gold robes. "At last! Free! Free! Oh how I have waited! How I have dreamed of what I would do to those pathetic fanatics! They will rue the day they crossed me. Rue I say!"

  "So I can take whatever I like?" asked Caprifexia, gesturing to the library.

  "What? Ah yes, of course," said the woman, running her hand through her dark, illusory hair and smiling widely. "As agreed, dear child. Use the knowledge well, I am sure we will meet again. But for now, goodbye, I have vengeance to exact!"

  The friendly lich swooped out of the room, and her cackling laughter gradually faded into the distance.

  A warm fuzzy feeling settled over Caprifexia. In the past it would have disgusted her, but after hanging around the nauseatingly sentimental Einar she was beginning to become used to the vaguely sickening sensation.

  And although she was still getting to grips with being the greatest hero in the multiverse, she was pretty sure that helping more limited creatures, like friendly liches, with their problems and letting them realise their dreams was what it was all about.

  Sure, the lich would eventually go insane, thought Caprifexia, but at least they'd be able to enjoy a century or two of coherent existence before that set in – that was more than what most mortals could hope for.

  She returned to the surface with her new thralls in tow an hour later, having given them the task of carrying her new books. Einar and the cat were playing some kind of card game.

  In the past they had invited her to play, but they had kept on cheating somehow and 'winning,' and after she had set fire to their first deck they hadn't asked her again.

  "Oh hey Capri-" began Einar, before he looked up from his hand. "Why are there a bunch of skeletons following you!?"

  "Oh these? These are my new book carriers," she said. "They were in the crypt I broke into."

  "Capri, necromancy isn't technically bannedin Skyrim, but people are going to get very, very, very disturbed and unhappy if you walk around with a group of skeletons carrying your bags. Especially the undead phobic Vigilants of Stendarr we're on our way to warn," said Einar. "Please, please get rid of them. They're super creepy."

  "Now that I'm back I suppose I don't really need them," said Caprifexia, waving her claw and directing them to dump the four bags full of books she had taken with the saddlebags. "I have you to carry my books already."

  "How did the small dragon go in breaking the ghost's anchor?" asked J'zargo idly, placing down a card onto the flat rock they were using as a table.

  "Very well," said Caprifexia. "I released them from a magical prison. Heroically, I might add."

  "Good job Capri," said Einar, turning back to his cards. "You're really starting to get a hang of this."

  "I know," she said smugly waving a talon and directing the undead to return back to the tomb. "And I'm much better at it than J'zargo."

  The cat ignored her, but she found she didn't really care. Einar had once said that 'Heroism was it's own reward,' and while she still thought that was pretty silly (and that books on magic were certainly better), she found herself pleased to think that somewhere out in the cold night the friendly Lich was off living their unlife to the fullest – all thanks to her help.

  A.N. If you like my writing, you might be interested in my fantasy adventure novel – – which is entirely pre-written and with chapters released every Friday!

  Mishka the Great and Powerful that isn't up on Royal Road yet!). However, I don't monetise or time-gate my fanfiction though (plz no sue!).