My apologies for the ungodly long wait, but here it is, Chapter 4, at long last. Instead of pardoning myself by saying I was really really really really busy, I'll say that I've actually written this Chapter by the end of December, but was far too lazy to format it for uploading. Now that it is the Lunar New Year, I have no more reasons for unproductivity. You'll find that it's far longer than or almost as long as all of the other chapters combined (I don't want to do the math, ok?). Enjoy!

The Dragon Council was leaving the room in tandem, when Councillor Andam casually reminded Jake to help Hector revert to his human form.

Jake growled on the inside.

This is going to take forever!

The moment all the councillors left the room, Grandpa ran with impossible immediacy to the only silver dragon he knew, no longer bound by the needs of decorum.

"Jake! Take a closer look at his silver scales!"

Grandpa was poring over the silver scales, the silver wings, the seemingly metallic being before him.

"Jake! Take a closer look his scales! They must hold some sort of magical property!"

Hector stood still and strived to maintain a straight face, awkwardly so as the old man continued to tug at his scales, completely intrigued. He felt almost objectified, and certainly uncomfortable, but chose not to voice any of this in the light of things.

Jake mumbled under his breath.

Grandpa paid no attention to Jake, and looked into Hector's eyes intently. Hector stood absolutely still, pretending not to notice.

"You have a lot of potential, young dragon," Grandpa said after some time of awkwardness, recognising it at long last, clearing his throat after. "I should introduce myself. You may call me Lao Shi."

"They sort of already told me that."

"And I will be your dragon master. Jake, my grandson, will be my assistant."

Jake turned to look grimly at his grandfather.

"Now, Jake will help you with your transformation. Fu and I have some matters to attend to."

Fu walked out of the room on his two hind legs grumbling to himself. Hector had heard of animal guardians from his dad, but never expected anything of that sort. A talking, anthropomorphic dog? But he wasn't really in a position to comment, either.

Someone Hector didn't yet recognise put a hand on Jake's shoulder and looked at them with friendly eyes. "G'day, you two. You've both got your work cut out for ya, eh? I'll help."

"No no no, not like that you idiot!"

Jake was pulling his hair in both frustration and desperation. How could it be so impossibly difficult to get a dragon back into its human form?

Nerk was as good as new now. The (according to the doctor unorthodox) potion had taken its effect and he agreed to help. He didn't have else to do, according to him.

"Look how I do it!" Nerk instructed, who with a quick snap of his fingers, returned to his human form as a thin veil of evanescent smoke formed in rings around him. He'd been going back and forth for quite some time now. "You don't actually have to snap your fingers, though."

The new dragon was at a complete loss. Almost two hours of travailing in the uncomfortably humid Draco Island Training Hall had already gone by, yet he was still unchanged. Nerk's demonstrations displayed the process, but didn't actually explain it. He couldn't possibly return home like this. His back was starting to ache, too.

"You need to focus. Think about being a human."

Jake tried to recall what Grandpa had told him when he too was at that stage, while Nerk continuously repeated his demonstration.

There they were at an impasse, two humans and a dragon.

Hector called for a fifteen minute recess. The process was too draining, though more so for his instructors.

Jake sauntered out of the grand hall and slumped against a palm tree planted nearby. He had to think of a different strategy. Nerk followed suit, their backs facing each other. Only god knew where the newbie wandered off to.

"I think we need to take another approach to this," Nerk mumbled. "The kid probably doesn't even know what he's doing."

"You don't say. I can't believe Gramps trusts me enough to leave me here with the new kid. It's so... weird."

Nerk chuckled. "Of course he does, you've been under training for over two years now. You should have the basics at your fingertips by now."

Jake remained silent.

"Don't worry mate, we'll get him fixed," Nerk responded reassuringly, who turned to place his hand on Jake's shoulder.

"Thanks... mate. We should get back to coaching once he's back. I'm really sorry about what happened earlier today."

"Don't fret, Jake-a-roo."

Jake was grateful for Nerk and his loyalty. He yawned, and Nerk followed shortly after. The dreary warm weather seemed to have a sleep-inducing effect on everyone.

"And, eh, Jake, don't you think you were a bit... harsh on him?" Nerk spoke in an undertone. "I mean, it's not his fault that you're stuck with him."

Jake looked at him both irritably and sadly for having said such a thing, but couldn't deny it either. He was surprised that Nerk wasn't unhappy with the newbie. After all, he was at first.

"Perhaps he'll be more receptive if you're less harsh. After all, you'll be working with him for... quite some time."

Meanwhile, Hector had taken off to wander the island. His footsteps were heavy, and he walked on the grass to dull the noise.

I just got into a dragon, and they want to turn me back? Already? Jeez!

He didn't want to revert into his human form yet. He felt... different as a dragon. He felt better. Empowered. Possibly Invincible. But most of all, his back felt sore. The doctor said it was normal the first few days.

So, this is what mom and dad must feel like. But maybe not so sore. He'd only ever seen them as dragons once, when he was really little. He wondered why they couldn't train him.

He had wandered from the training hall with the weird statues to a secluded, shady spot near another hall he didn't know what was for.

He looked at himself, at his new reptilian, almost metallic body he hadn't yet had time to work with. He looked at his claws, tugged at his scales and poked at his wings. It would take him some time to get used to all these things. He could feel the joints of the wings on his back, and spread them out. They were much larger than he had expected, all this while having been folded up on his back. The sinuous silver filigree covering a large portion of the membrane almost looked like viny embroidery.

By now, he knew that dragons came in different shapes and sizes, as well as colours. But he also knew that he wasn't like Jake or Nerk, or even his parents. Even Lao Shi hadn't seen anything like him before.

I wonder when I'll be able to fly with these?

The break wouldn't last much longer. He dreaded its end.

"You need to concentrate on getting every single nerve behind that scaly hide of yours changed," Jake demonstrated, himself transforming into a dragon and back, heatless blue flame and smoke engulfing him in turns. "The first few times will be quite exhausting, so go at your own pace."

Hector was surprised by Jake's sudden change of tone. No more shouting l cursing.

"Perhaps you could focus on your head first, and then the rest of your body after," Nerk appended.

Hector went completely still, as he clenched his eyes shut. He felt no need to breathe. This went on for over three minutes.

Growing more and more uncomfortable at the stillness, Nerk glanced at Jake nervously, whispering, "is he dead?"

"Of course he's not d-"

The silver dragon emitted a flurry of blinding white light, head down, causing the two to shut their eyes instinctively. The luminance subsided. At last, the manifestation of their efforts- Hector was once again human!

Jake winked at Nerk who returned it,

"Of course he's not dead."

Jake took a good look at his new student in human form, still in his white hospital garbs. Hector had been seen as what came to be recognised as the Argent Dragon, but not yet as a seemingly ordinary almost-fifteen-year-old by his mentor. Hector at least a full head taller, which came as a surprise to him as they were of identical height as dragons.

He had lean, angular features and broad shoulders. Jake found some semblance between him and Brad Morton, but he couldn't quite equate them- Hector had black hair instead of Brad's blond, and he could see the lingering gleam of Hector's hair wax. But they were both similar in build and stature, even though they were almost three years apart. Hector didn't exactly give off the vibes of a completely self-centred jerk, either.

Why does everyone have to be taller than me?

Jake felt a flicker of envy. But now wasn't the time for that.

"Good job, mate!" Nerk remarked cheerfully as he gave him a thumbs up and a pat on the back.

"We'll just have to continue working on transforming. Back into a dragon. Which will be the next session's problem."

The three of them were smiling from ear to ear.

Jake suddenly remembered what Grandpa had told him, to issue a few reminders before they left.

"So... I'll be seeing you at my Gramp's place next Sunday, yeah? I heard you've already made arrangements for your big move."

And then all mirth departed from Hector's face.

Hector gave a slow, sad knock on the white wooden door he'd been seeing every weekend for the past seven years of his life- a tradition that would cease to exist in a week.

"Hey!" resounded a friendly, expecting voice from behind the door as it flew ajar. Alex.

He so wanted to return the greeting. To throw him a playful punch, and take off for the skate park. But that was not to be.

"A... Alex? We... we need to talk..." Hector said weakly.

I can't break down... Not in front of Alex... I can't...

Alex's eyebrows rose in concern, as he stretched out a comforting arm onto Hector's shoulder.

He tried to choke back whatever he could, but his voice wavered as much as his spirit. He clenched his fists tightly, as though there were something there that would offer him some small measure of consolation.

"Yeah? What's wrong, man?"

"I'm... I'm moving to New York." He paused for breath. "Saturday morning."

Alex looked at him with a blank expression, the one he only made when utterly defeated.

"But... but why?"

Hector asked himself how many times he would have to repeat the lie he was about to tell Alex.

Hector was at boiling point.

"You AGREED to send me to New York! You didn't EVEN ask for other options! And why do they have to mentor me when the two of you can?"

"There weren't-"

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP! I'VE HAD ENOUGH!"

He slammed his room door shut vehemently. At last, all the tears that he couldn't shed in front of Alex came pouring down.

Hector clutched the black digital watch Alex gave him, before strapping it around his wrist. It was supposedly his birthday present, but now an advance one. He'd already eaten the rest of his gift. The relocation came as a shock to both. They'd been inseparable friends since the age of six. Alex... was like a brother to him. Closer to him than he was to his own family. He was disappointed that Alex couldn't send him off.

He thought of the thrill they had skateboarding in the park, even to school and back. He thought about repeating that dastardly lie- that he was there for studies, and not for any other shady reason. Of course, the council had warned him against revealing anything. Not even Alex could know. Not even Aunt Casey. Only his parents knew. With whom he hadn't spoken since all the shouting and arguing at home. With whom he had once trusted and confided in. Whom he had left without a word.

But he didn't want to think about them.

I'd be lucky if I can even make acquaintances in the damn place.

His mind wandered back to when Jake was helping him with transformation on Draco Island. The supposedly split-second procedure had taken almost three hours to master. He knew Jake didn't like him. But why? He dreaded transferring to Jake' school. Tenth grade would be tough. Jake would be even tougher to deal with.

He would have continued chewing over those thoughts, if the ferry ride didn't make him sick enough already. He could feel the contents of his stomach working their way up his throat.

Aunt Casey would be waiting for him at the harbour of New York. He'd been there before to visit her, but had never actually visited her place. They hadn't met in over two years. Hopefully it wouldn't be too small. He'd been instructed by the Council to keep her- or anyone not a dragon, for the matter- unaware of his dragon identity, and to tell her he was there for "studies". In his green duffel bag was nothing but clothing, his skateboard, and his laptop. Aunt Casey had be assumed to have everything else he'd ever possibly need. He'd have to meet his new mentors the next day, too.

He couldn't understand the Dragon Council's urgency to start training. The one week notice was ridiculous. And for that, he despised them. The move, he felt, would be his undoing.

The ferry went over a large wave, causing it to bob up and down and shake to and fro violently. Hector felt his stomach rising up his throat. Or its contents. Or both. The only other passengers seated near him were a family of four, all trying to avoid making eye contact with him.

He threw up in his mouth.

Oh God, I shouldn't have eaten so much for lunch.

A glance of his watch revealed that the ride would last around three more hours. Barely one had passed.

This is going to be a hell of a ride.

"There you are! How's my favourite nephew?" called Aunt Casey, dressed in a maroon dress and sporting hair dyed red, as she dashed towards him across the arrival hall. She was a cordial middle aged lady from his maternal side of the family, with an unusual, even crazy affinity for the colour red. She landed a big, affectionate hug, which he didn't resist, but reciprocated. "You've grown so much!"

Aunt Casey willingly agreed to let him live with her for a year or two. Hector's mother and her had fallen out of touch, but she never objected or hesitated. As to why they fell out, all his mother said was "you'll know when you get there". Frankly, he didn't even know she lived in New York until one week back. Hector admired her kindness.

The car ride back to her place was, thankfully, less painful than the ferry. He was barraged with questions, but gave curt, dodgy responses.

"How's your mom been doing?"

"Ok."

"So, what brings you to the Big Apple?

He grimaced internally.

"I'm... here for studies."

He was glad she didn't push any further.

From the car, Hector already guessed which one of the houses along that seemingly endless row was his Aunt's. Aunt Casey's place was astonishingly large, as were all the houses down that lane. Compared to his house, Aunt Casey's was a mansion. A facade of fresh red paint, complemented by a garden of red flowers, Hector decided were either roses or carnations- he couldn't tell. All this a stark contrast from the nondescript greyish walls he had grown used to back home, and also the rest of the other houses down the street.

The white fence gate was unlatched, and he found himself amidst a sea of red.

Her living room was no different, in the sense that it too was largely red. Red carpeted floor, a red L-shaped sofa. The dining table wasn't red, but it did have a cinnabar tablecloth. Hector found it unnerving how it was so difficult to tell where the floor ended and the wall began.

"Make yourself comfortable!"

I could get used to this, Hector thought as he stepped into his new bedroom on the second floor, previously the guest room. It was on the opposite end of the hallway from his Aunt's, and the light that poured through the pair of windows made artificial light in the day unnecessary. Hector would soon come to realise that this room was the only one in the house that hadn't been redified. It featured a small empty bookshelf with a striped base on it, a wooden study desk with a matching chair, a ceiling-high wardrobe, and of course, his bed- all this with space to spare. Framed pictures of two young children Hector didn't recognise dotted the blue wall, and glow-in-the-dark stars and moons the ceiling. He jumped onto the mattress, while she whisked off to set up the table for lunch. He made himself comfortable, leaving his duffel bag unzipped and clothing strewn over the floor when he took out a fresh set of clothing for later.

He knew Aunt Casey wouldn't object to him messing up his room, or as he called, "making himself comfortable".

The table was laid with geometric precision. Yellow-green avocado pear halves stuffed with mushrooms and mayonnaise, a whopping platter of baked potato topped with sour cream, and an amazing spread of salad. And a sweating pitcher of fruit tea to wash it all down. Not a utensil lay out of place.

"I've made something special today. The twins are having a sleepover and won't be back till tomorrow, so help yourself," she spoke in her usual singsongy tone while popping baguette slices in the oven.

Twins? Nobody told me about twins.

He was about to bite into a lettuce leaf when he realised that there was no meat on the table.

"Erm, Aunt Casey, what about... meat?"

"Oh no no no! You won't find any in this household!" Her eyes widened, her hands furiously fiddling with a salad laden fork as she spoke. "We can't go around eating animals, can we? Besides, it's healthier and we're saving the earth this way!" she answered with her usual impossible alacrity.

That's what she means by "something special"? I can't live like this! I need meat!

A sleepless night. Hector was simply too hungry to sleep.

Maybe that's why they fell out.

Five o'clock in the morning. He had to be there in an hour.

Sunday would be a long day. After an unsatisfying dinner, and anticipating many more such meals, he decided to indulge himself in a hearty breakfast at the expense of his wallet. He had been granted him free access to the kitchen and its contents, but nothing in there satisfied him. He snuck out of the house before she noticed his absence or woke up, whichever came first.

As he bit into a hearty beef sandwich, he acknowledged to himself that he couldn't afford to do this too often. He scooted off to find the place, eating on the go.

Canal Street Electronics was a lot more close, dilapidated, and cluttered than he had imagined. Brown paint flaked off brown walls and brown doors. From the outside, he could see that the couches were previously green. Red lanterns on red string thinning with age dangled from the ceiling. Red banners with funny characters he couldn't understand. He dreaded entering and decided to enter quietly without being noticed. The chimes that rang with the opening of the door gave him away with a start.

But no one came to greet him.

Relieved, he ventured further into the shop. Piles of ancient electronics dominated the already cluttered space.

Cassette players? Who uses these anymore?

He wondered when they last even had a customer, or if he were even in the right place.

"Ah, you finally decided to show up, shapeshifter."

Mathias spun around in the previously empty library to find a familiar face looking right into his, the face's upper lip curled into a sneer. Nigel. Mathias didn't expect him, not at this hour, not at this place.

"So, what brought you here? What finally brought you here, to Manhattan?"

He could see the taunting in Nigel's eyes. It rankled him. But in the spirit of things, he let it pass.

"That's none of your concern, Nigel. What are you doing here, anyway?"

The two had been deep-seated rivals since long back, stemming from a feud over who was the best in London's Wizard Academy. But Nigel left London for New York to pursue an advancement in his career as a sorcerer, which Mathias found incredibly foolish.

That redhead doesn't even have the wits, he had thought.

But now, the inescapable truth was that both were in New York, even if for different reasons. Even if he was there against his will.

"That's none of your business, either." Nigel's eyes narrowed to a thin gaze. Mathias rolled his eyes scornfully.

"You're starting to pick up an American accent."

Nigel's hands shot up to cover his mouth, as though what Mathias had said was the most offensive remark in the world. His eyes narrowed to glare, and he promptly made his leave without so much as a rebuttal or retaliation.

Mathias sighed and continued sifting through the contents of the library, no match for his personal collection back in England.

Damn it, Nigel.

Mathias' father was away on an unprecedented work trip once again- and this time, he wouldn't be back till the end of the month.

Mathias missed Bertrand's company, but he didn't mind being alone either. He liked being alone. For as long as there was peace and quiet, he would read and read and read. He just didn't fancy being lonely.

But that night, he couldn't focus.

How uncanny that I'd meet that fool so soon, he thought to himself.

His new apartment was barely a fifth of the old mansion in size, and he knew every nook and cranny by heart within the first two days. He thought it underwhelming. Pathetic. He didn't like it, to say the least. He hated it.

But there was one place he hadn't yet seen, and that was his father's office.

The tudor style room had a forbidding feel about it, however elegantly furnished, however similar it was to the rooms of the old mansion. No room in this house looked remotely like it.

Mathias didn't know what led him in here. He knew he knew better, but he could not withhold himself. It was an unspoken rule- nobody but Father should enter the room. The huge wooden door felt heavy against his palms. The room seemed a lot bigger than it should have been. No, it was a lot bigger than it should have been. Magic, he knew. The lambert crystal chandelier, which hung like the sword of Damocles above him, was the sole light source of the room, radiating a strange glow. There was a suffocating absence of windows, though he could tell where they were before. It ought to have been dark, but it was as well lit as a stadium. Magic, he knew. An immaculate workable was the centrepiece of the room, surrounded by corridors and corridors of books. The books and documents that lay on the table and haunted the shelves had levels of orderliness foreign to even Mathias, who considered himself to be the most organised and meticulous person he'd ever met and would ever meet. He knew that such organisation could only ever be achieved with magic, and he felt unsettled knowing that his would never be as good as his Father's.

He'd never been close to his father. He didn't even know if he ever had a mother. He felt like the orphaned children in all those books he'd read, except, he wasn't in a book, except, he wasn't really parentless. Even if Father was barely there for him, whether he was needed or not.

Mathias settled himself on the chaise lounge at the work table. It was also wooden, similar to the one in his room, and matched the brownish hue of the worktable. He knew his Father wouldn't know, but he still had to be wary. He sat, and felt important for sitting on such an important chair in such an important room, belonging to such an important person. He knew his Father was important, but exactly how, he didn't. He glossed over the contents of the table. A stack of documents with graphs he couldn't be bothered to decipher, another wad of notes with immaculate cursive on straight lines, piles of boring brown envelopes. He was careful not to rearrange them.

He spotted something out of place. A smaller white envelope slot in between the stack of browns. He thought he'd gently tug it out from under the stack. As he did, red crumbs of wax came off the seal, now undone. He could see part of the crumbled off initials on the seal, the E and what looked like an R.

He recognised that letter.

It was the one that his Father received, the one that had sent him into spiralling despair.

He took the handwritten letter out of the envelope. It felt unnatural.

He found the handwriting scrawling and unreadable, but could make up most parts.

Mr Heyse:

The [illegible] you have sent us has been met with overwhelming response. Our [illegible] has already located and secured a suitable abode. Your services will be necessary in [illegible]. You are expected in a week's time at the previously agreed meeting venue, the Pa[illegible] towers.

Regards,

[Illegible]

Secretary of His Lordship

And in an instant, Mathias knew who it was from, and that it wasn't an R.

Hope you enjoyed this installment of the AmDrag: Fresh Encounters. I really ought to find a better name...

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