Simma followed Zolomon into his compartment, his thoughts drifting as to why he had wanted to talk to him where they were just alone.
Zolomon moved over behind his desk and sat down, rubbing his hand on the moulded dragon on his desk as Simma just stared.
"I know you might be wondering why I have called you, Simma," Zolomon began. "I just have a few questions, and that's all."
"Well, I think I might be okay with that," Simma replied calmly.
"Do you have any idea who your parents were?" Zolomon asked as Simma looked at him.
"No," he replied, his eye narrowing at Zolomon.
"Those that Gwen took you from—who were they?" Zolomon asked Simma, though he already knew what the answer was.
"They are called Grumms. They have no powers," Simma answered, waiting for more, though he had said only a few questions.
"Ahh, I see," Zolomon replied, shoving his beard. "What's your Azrax?"
At this question, Simma had kept quiet, not knowing what to answer. Should he say that it was a frog, since that was what he saw in his dreams? But after a second thought:
"I don't know," he replied, a thrill of shame searing into him.
Zolomon's lip curled into a weak smile. It was as if he had gotten what he wanted to hear, but he had one more question.
"The tail that you had used during the games today—how did you summon it?" Zolomon asked.
"I don't know, sir. Whenever I'm angry, I do things I have never done before," Simma replied.
"Off you go, then. And lest I forget, this is not just a mere game as we call it. It is what we use to determine the fate and protection of our city."
"I know, sir," Simma replied as he walked away.
Simma was about to return to the locker when he met Gwen, who was coming from the locker room.
"Hey, where have you been? I have been looking for you," Gwen asked happily.
"Well, Zolomon wanted to see me, so I had gone to meet him," Simma replied.
"Zolomon wanted to see you? What for?" she asked, frowning a little bit.
"Well, he wanted to know more about me, and that's all," Simma replied.
"Well, I have good news and bad news," Gwen said. "So, which one should come first?"
"Well, the bad news should," Simma replied.
"Then the good news it is. Come on, let me show you something," Gwen said as they started walking in the direction of the rooms.
"Hey, I said bad news first," Simma said, but Gwen ignored him.
They walked until they reached almost the end of the hallway.
"Here it is," Gwen said, pointing to the door, on which was written Simma Sandruf in golden and solid letters.
"Wow," Simma gasped, and just then, a key appeared in his hand. Simma turned and stared at Gwen. He couldn't believe it.
He quickly opened the door, and just then, everything started emanating into place as a bright golden light moved past the room: a wardrobe, a study, a huge bed well-dressed and looking comfortable, a sconce on the wall, and a little shelf at the end of the room.
"This is amazing," he said, sitting and feeling the bed. He had not been on a bed his whole life—well, except the infirmary bed—but who's counting?
"See? I told you so," Gwen said to him. "Now, time for the bad news," Gwen began. "You have to unleash your beast in the next stages of the tournament to show you have mastered how to summon it."
Simma sat up immediately on hearing this.
"But I don't even know my Azrax. Who knows if I even have one?" he replied, the smile on his face fading away.
"Hey, there is hope. We just have to find you someone that will teach you," Gwen said.
"Oh yeah? Like this is sand gliding," he replied back. He wasn't happy anymore. "You know the arena battles start the day after tomorrow."
"If you did well in hockey, there might be a chance that you might do well in the tournament," Gwen answered.
"Turns out the only thing that I'm good at doing now has some stupid rules attached to it," Simma said. He knew how to fight—besides, he had defeated the Tormentor.
"We need to give it a try. Tomorrow, we are going to start training you. Maybe you just need to summon it. It is not a must that you fight with it, I think," Gwen said.
"Once you know how to do that, then we have an edge on your winning," Gwen added.
"Then what of you? Aren't you fighting too?" Simma asked.
"Oh, don't worry about me. I have advanced to this level once, and I won—only to get face-slapped by the final stages," Gwen assured him, though she was nervous about the Arena battles.
"Have some rest. We move out in the evening to train," Gwen said as she left.
In the evening, Simma prepared and moved over to meet Gwen.
He walked until he reached the door where Gwenevier Granger was written on it. He simply knocked on it and waited.
Gwen's eye popped out from a little hole as she checked who was knocking on her door.
"Hey, Simma," she called, opening the door as Simma stepped in.
He looked around. It was the first time he had been to someone's.
"Wow, your place is amazing," he said, sitting on a chair.
"Thank you," she replied as she moved over and slumped onto her bed.
"So..." Gwen said.
"You said I should get ready to train in the evening," Simma said.
Gwen had completely forgotten.
"Sorry, dear. Yeah, I remember now... let me just prepare, and then we leave."
"Gwen, I can't find it!" came someone's voice from the lavatory.
"I'm coming to get it to you," Gwen replied as she moved out. "I'll be back," she said back to Simma.
A few moments later, she came with Lucy. Simma looked at them— they were already dressed, it seemed.
"Hey, Simma," Lucy called flatly.
"Hey," he replied, stretching the word.
"I'm Lucy. I'm Gwen's friend. I was there when she found you, you know."
"Yeah, I'm Simma. Nice to meet you."
The three of them left the room and into the hallway, not saying much.
They walked out of the building and towards the gate that led outside the citadel.
It was Simma's first time out of the citadel into the city, apart from viewing it from the top of his room.
The city was busy and crowded, with houses that looked squashy and woody, but still perfect.
They walked in deeper and deeper until they came to a halt in front of a house. It looked older and odder than the other houses.
Gwen knocked on the door, the sound of the knocking dull.
The door opened, and in front of them was a young man. He looked to be in his late thirties.
His masculine figure was hidden behind the brown cloth he wore that was big and dragged on the floor.
"Gwen," he called as he saw them, "it's almost good to see you. Who are your friends?"
"This is Lucy and Simma. Can we come in?" Gwen replied.
"Yes, of course," he said, ushering them in.
Inside the house was warmer and more comfortable. It was neat and well arranged.
"Do you need something to eat? Perhaps drink?" he asked.
"If so, let me make you some nice tea," someone said at the other end of the house.
He looked exactly like the one that was standing next to them— the same long dress and the smile on their faces.
"Druid, stop that. You're confusing your guests," Gwen said as Simma got more confused.
"Don't mind my manners, but this is my house..."
"I shall do as I please."
There were now four Druids in the room. Just then, it struck Simma and Lucy—Druid has the ability to clone.
"Wow, that is well cool," Lucy commented as the other Druids vanished, leaving only one remaining.
"So, to what do I owe this visit?" Druid finally asked.
"I need your help—well, we need your help," Gwen answered.
"Go on," Druid replied, his voice as chilly and slow as always.
"We need you to teach us how to unlock our Azrax."
"Hmm," Druid mumbled, his eyes shifting slowly between them.
"The process of unlocking the Azrax is a long one," he said simply, his tone calm and steady.
"And it requires pure devotion," came another voice from behind where they sat.
"But first, you need to know what your Azrax is," said a third, now speaking from the corner of the room, seated on a couch.
"You don't have much time," added another Druid, now standing right in front of them.
"Especially if this is for the tournament."
Gwen frowned, growing impatient. "Druid, we need answers," she said firmly. "Stop playing around."
"I refuse no one," the first Druid replied with a slight smile. The other Druids faded out one by one, leaving only him behind.
"Follow me," he said, turning away.
Without hesitation, they stood and followed him deeper into the house.