By Kondoru
Standard disclaimers
Thanks to JP for Betaing.
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The scrying fire flickered, as the hornless slave put more wood upon it, the man sat in the well-padded chair nodded in satisfaction, ⌠be off with you, and shut the door. I want no interruptions in my magics, hear me?■
The slave bowed in assent and padded silently out, proud, as ever, of his horned master▓s magical ability.
The Horned One got off his chair and poked the fire so as it was more to his liking. Mirrors were fine for scrying, portable, but too small for the view he wanted, and he did not want to be outside staring into a pool in this weather. (Mysterians did not use stones for scrying) a fire was just right...Even if he had to constantly tend it.
Anyway, he could make toast later. There was nothing wrong in using the scrying fire for such mundane purposes, provided it was purified after.
The Dragon Lord squatted back on his haunches, gave the fire a final inspection, then rose and returned to his seat. He snuggled further into the cushions, scratching his green haired head, and pulling a spider silk quilt about him for all the world like a moogle in his matchcoat. Time for some snooping.
He had heard that the Wynderian possessed a magic box, which allowed them to see all they desired, the Dragon Lord had no such box, he did not need it.
He concentrated his mind.
A picture began to form in the fire, of tall fir trees lit by a sun in a murky sky, he willed his view closer, to see one of the straight metal roads. (His mind shied away from the sheer cost of such an extravagance as a metal road.)
This was Wynderia, a land of vast forests, bleak tundra and many small lakes. The metal roads, traversed by great Soil powered machines crisscrossed it.
Here was one now, fashioned in the likeness of a snake (though to the Dragon Lords elevated view, more of a caterpillar) he let his mind follow it along, the land gradually changed to small fields and orchards, the metal road led inevitably to a vast sprawling city.
The Wynderian city was a vision of some diabolical region, strange regular buildings, the tall girder towers with wheels on top of them that the Dragon Lord knew to be pitheads, conglomerations of pipes, gasometers and redly glowing furnaces, all lit by harsh lightning powered lamps. The Wynderian took no notice of the sky, but burrowed underground like moles, digging up the treasures of the earth and turning them into things, in particular massive engines powered by the earth energy known as Soil.
The Dragon Lord smiled to himself.