A carriage ran along the well-trodden roads of the empire. Inside the spacious carriage, a group of people were seated.
One of them suddenly spoke.
“Dragon?”
Angie’s words as she brushed her crimson hair aside. After muttering this curious remark, Angie turned her head.
The swaying carriage, being a rather large cargo carriage, had ample space.
In this spacious area, however, many people were cramped together.
Among them was an unusually large dragonkin, who lay on his back groaning in the cargo section.
With a jolt, the dragonkin wrapped his long snout and let out a groan, prompting Angie to point at him and say,
“There’s a dragon right here, isn’t there? So what’s the problem?”
The proud warrior who referred to himself as “esteemed,” TiyaMal, was crouched awkwardly despite his towering 2.5-meter frame, serving as a footrest for Phey.
As the carriage swayed, he tried to speak while suppressing nausea but failed.
“Ugh…”
Unable to resist the returning wave of sickness, tears streamed down his face as he clutched his snout.
It was Harrod who responded next, sitting quietly and observing TiyaMal with a concerned expression.
“Angie, dragonkin and dragons are somewhat different.”
“Hmm? Aren’t they both dragons though? Right?”
“That’s… discrimination against dragonkin… guuuh…”
TiyaMal grimaced and paled once more, clutching his snout.
“Poor lizard.”
Phey gently swept TiyaMal’s belly with her foot, causing him to tear up and close his mouth.
Seeing Angie’s naturally puzzled expression, Aslan, seated in the carriage, smiled and explained,
“That statement is correct. Dragonkin and dragons are cousins that branched off from the roots of fire and metal, but their treatment and racial differences are significant. To put it simply…”
Aslan pondered for a moment, then nodded as if recalling something.
“Perhaps the difference between monkeys and humans?”
While Aslan thought this was a reasonable analogy, the response was chilly.
Angie tilted her head in greater confusion.
“Why would humans and monkeys be compared?”
Ereta echoed the sentiment, resting her finger on her cheek as she shook her head left and right, deep in thought but ultimately unsure.
“Do monkeys and humans have any relation? They’re just beasts and humans…”
The rest of the party shared similar reactions, clearly not understanding. Sighing inwardly, Aslan realized such metaphors wouldn’t resonate in this fantasy world where human-like monsters were common and the era was akin to medieval times.
Ultimately, Aslan had to gloss over it.
“In short, dragonkin and dragons differ greatly. Dragons have declined, whereas dragonkin haven’t. Dragons naturally split from fire and metal, but dragonkin were directly crafted by them.”
Hearing this, Angie still looked perplexed but leaned back against the seat, crossing her arms. A fleeting thought crossed her mind.
This thought soon materialized into words.
“What exactly is the difference? It doesn’t seem too distinct based on what I’ve heard…”
Aslan chuckled slightly upon hearing this and extended his finger, pointing at a pair of boots.
Adorning Angie’s feet were boots made from dragon leather, procured from the city of wizards.
“Do you like these boots?”
“Yeah, I do. They’re sturdy and don’t tear easily. Why?”
“They’re made from dragon skin. Likely from a dragon that consumed plenty of good metals.”
This revelation didn’t just affect Angie.
“Metal-eating dragons?”
Angie was astonished.
“Is it true dragons eat metal?”
Lumel seemed intrigued, possibly having read or heard about it before.
Richard let out a brief “Oh,” while Ereta appeared uninterested, inspecting her fingernails.
“Yes, dragons…”
“Dragons are commonly raised as livestock in the empire. Their scales’ hardness and flexibility vary depending on the metals they consume. Their temperaments also align accordingly, so they can be bred for various purposes. They’re truly versatile creatures.”
As Aslan prepared to continue, Resham, who had been silent since boarding the carriage, interjected.
Given Resham’s practical nature, Aslan allowed him to proceed.
“This current situation isn’t good.”
“Why… isn’t it good?”
Angie started to speak informally but corrected herself mid-sentence. Resham glanced at her briefly before answering.
“There are numerous dragon farms between the empire and the Mareza City Union. Many specialize in raising dragons. Some are fed quality metals to produce armor materials, while others consume blue iron to wield wild magic.”
Observing Angie’s bewildered expression, Resham added succinctly,
“There are likely many dragons strengthened by consuming high-quality metals. Probably countless numbers.”
Continuing, Resham stated,
“So far, they’ve been docile, so management issues haven’t surfaced much. There was insufficient funding as well. Due to this, the number of escaped dragons might be substantial. All of them could be rampaging unchecked within the empire.”
As everyone turned to look at Resham, the elderly green concluded,
“This simultaneous dragon rampage is undoubtedly someone’s plot. We don’t know what might happen within the empire.”
Witnessing this unexpected verbosity from Resham, the group fell silent. Aslan observed him, concluding that this green must love his homeland deeply, given how talkative he became when discussing the empire despite his usual taciturn demeanor.
When the group finally tore their gaze away from Resham, Angie asked,
“So where are we going?”
The reply came not from Aslan or Resham, but a third party.
“Aslan already told you, didn’t he? Stupid Angie.”
Phey, grumbling while sprawled across Angie and Lumel’s knees, tapped her stomach and continued. Angie scratched her head, recalling vaguely, while Resham blinked at Phey’s behavior.
“It’s fine. If you explain again, that will suffice.”
The ensuing explanation was straightforward.
Resham recounted how, while investigating alongside border guard soldiers inside the border, he discovered a tragedy at a dragon farm.
The dragon farm was littered with shredded human corpses. From there, he tracked the path the dragons took after escaping and gathering.
Despite encountering dragons during the chase, resulting in injuries among the group, they managed to subdue the dragons.
After defeating the dragon, Resham pursued its location from the point of encounter and created an expected route.
Through further investigation along this route, he identified additional dragon rampage sites.
From these locations, he constructed new anticipated routes and pinpointed overlapping directions.
Although several overlapping sites existed, Resham surmised that the most probable destination was the imperial city of Surethort, currently celebrating the Thanksgiving Festival.
“If the dragons converge on this city, the empire’s citizens will be in peril.”
Resham concluded his explanation, and Phey, seemingly addressed personally, pouted childishly.
“Why do we have to go? Can’t Uncle go alone?”
“These aren’t ordinary dragons; they’re aggressive and feed on humans.”
Resham’s attitude toward Phey’s petulance was gentle, contrasting with his usual brusqueness. Surprised, Phey blinked as Resham crossed his arms and continued,
“It’s dangerous for those unaware of this information. They might let their guard down. Preventing such scenarios is the duty of a watcher.”
Though not entirely fitting, Phey closed her mouth.
“Do humans eating make dragons smarter and harder to fight…?”
Instead, Angie voiced her concern, and Resham shook his head unperturbed by her peculiar honorifics.
“Dragons lack such abilities. Only twisted beings like high priests or priests possess that capability.”
Subtly glancing at Ereta as he spoke.
Ignoring Resham’s subtle glance, Ereta pretended to admire the scenery. Resham shot her a sidelong glance before adding,
“Moreover… as the elf mentioned earlier, I initially planned to go alone. The veteran warrior offered assistance, so I permitted their company.”
At this, the group turned to Aslan.
Aslan, gazing out the window with his teal eyes, turned his head upon hearing his name called. Smiling faintly at the expectant gazes, he said,
“In my view, this incident seems to be the work of a priest. Additionally, since the empire plays a role in the union, I wanted to help resolve this crisis.”
A pragmatic reason accompanied his statement, silencing Phey’s complaints.
“If Aslan wishes it, Phey will comply.”
“Thank you. Still, if all goes well, we’ll get to participate in the Thanksgiving Festival, so don’t lose heart.”
The Thanksgiving Festival, a celebration in the imperial city. While the group harbored some anticipation, Resham declared proudly,
“Imperial festivals, regardless of type, are filled with wonder and joy, but the Thanksgiving Festival especially brims with reverence and spectacle. I believe you’ll enjoy it, especially with the displayed body of a deity.”
“A… deity’s corpse?”
“Yes, a deity’s corpse.”
An odd combination of words: exhibition and deity.
However, only Aslan and Angie appeared uneasy.
Resham, noticing Angie’s disbelief, explained,
“The daughter of Law and Order, the goddess of oaths known for her fairness, reveals her physical form only on special occasions like these. If we protect this festival well, you too may witness the body of a deity.”
There was no hint of unease in Resham’s tone.
Only Angie and Aslan, who knew better than the average Geladridion inhabitant, showed discomfort.
While others expressed astonishment, Aslan gave a wry smile, and Angie leaned back against the seat, troubled.
Recalling the Warrior God, she felt uneasy knowing a deity had become an exhibit.
She wondered if she’d end up the same way after death.
Resham paid little attention to Aslan and Angie’s reactions, instead pointing out the landscape beyond the carriage window.
“Fortunately, we’ve arrived. This is Surethort, the commercial city of the empire.”
Upon hearing this, the group either turned their heads or leaned out the carriage window, only to see…
—Geeeee!
The city under attack by swarms of dragons.
Seeing this, Resham quickly masked his startled expression and leapt out of the carriage.
“We must hurry.”
He proceeded to untether the horses attached to the carriage, evidently planning to ride swiftly to assist.
Before him, TiyaMal, suffering from motion sickness, stepped out of the carriage and steadied himself.
Having endured the journey silently due to seasickness, TiyaMal gripped his bow to the ground while clutching his queasy stomach.
“Perfect timing, I was about to vomit anyway. This works.”
Harrod acknowledged his nod with a gesture, maintaining his stance.
“Are you alright?”
Responding to Angie’s inquiry, TiyaMal, despite looking ready to throw up, shrugged off his shirt.
“At least finishing them myself is better than getting cut or trampled by others, right? Don’t you think?”
“You’re right, Brother. Since we share the same root, it’s our duty to clean this up.”
Harrod, supporting his words, grabbed the bow staff. From the point Harrod touched, the bow began to glow slowly.
Gradually revealing itself was an arrow, four times larger than the ones TiyaMal usually fired—a plasma arrow.
TiyaMal grasped the arrow created by Harrod, placed it on the string, and inhaled deeply as the wind blew.
The wind brushing against the scales caused TiyaMal to widen his eyes and pull the string taut.
Twang!
He released it.
The arrow flew at an incomprehensible speed, impossible to follow with the naked eye.
The arrow, which reached its destination almost instantly, struck downward like a bolt of lightning outside the city.
Kwa-ga-ga-ga-ga-gang!
It exploded.
Thanks to precise aiming and shooting, the arrow scorched only the dragon clinging to the outer wall of the city, igniting it.
The smell of burning dragon flesh reached even the distant carriage, prompting TiyaMal to retrieve his bow from the ground as he watched the fallen dragons.
“Let’s go. Hurry and find somewhere to lie down.”
Despite creating the situation, the mastermind remained weary but without boasting.
Soon after, the carriage moved towards the city.
