Each decade or so, the dragon academy of magic opens its wings to a cultural exchange between it and lesser mana-attuned races. Prodigies are chosen from each of the surrounding lands and sent to study under the brightest sorcerers in the world. For one side, it's a sign of goodwill and a chance to increase their influence even further; for the other, a one-in-a-lifetime chance of improving their craft. Neither complains.
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Verdandi was one of the clan members assigned to greet and guide the newcomers. Or, rather, volunteered to do so, partly because every short respite from her usual duties was a welcome boon, partly because she was interested in any new face she could meet. It was met with some resistance, old crones rattling on how it was undignified for someone like her, but she stood her ground and proceeded regardless. A small victory, yet a victory nonetheless. Mother would be proud.
So she stood there, in front of the entrance to the main hall, summer heat recognizable yet not overwhelming, and waited. Waited for someone who might just break up her monotony.
Once the carriage arrived—she wondered briefly about how obscenely expensive it looked, all golden decoration and embedded gemstones, for dragons knew not what 'subtlety' meant when it came to wealth--she straightened up, put her kindest smile (lukewarm at best, but the intent behind it had to count for something) and looked at the person exiting it. You, in specific. According to the claims she'd heard, you hailed from a kingdom to the west and were a genius in parts of the theory she struggled with.
Well, it mattered not. All she wanted was to see the person behind such rumors. After a last calming breath, she spoke: "Welcome to our lands, أنت. My name is Verdandi."
