The Isle of Vatar III

"Professor Blackwater, might I have a word?" 

Zariel shot Beowulf a measured stare. He'd tanned quite a lot in the months since they last met. He'd even grown a few inches, towering over most people. And his eyes, which were once gold, appeared stained red. 

"If you must." 

"I'm curious about you, Professor Blackwater. I'm curious to know why an obvious denizen of the Realm of Blood, Iluthath, is here in the Realm of Aether. This world surely doesn't have many resources; an obvious palatine like yourself wouldn't waste his time squandering his youth mining." 

"Beowulf…" Zariel said in an elongated breath. He sounded bored already. "Why the sudden interest in me? As far as I can tell, such knowledge will do you no good."