News of Dragons

Hearing Gawain's words, Victoria nodded slightly, while Grand Duke Baldwin beside her raised an eyebrow. "Do I need to excuse myself?"

"It doesn't matter." Gawain casually took a glass of red wine from a passing attendant's tray, then turned to Victoria. "It's about dragons."

"That truly was only a rumor," Victoria said flatly, as cold and clear as the northern wind. Those who did not know her might even find her difficult to approach. "I already sent people to investigate. Aside from one drunkard, no one saw any sign of the so-called dragon that day."

"I'm not talking about that incident, but the past several centuries in the north." Gawain looked into the Duchess's eyes. "Since my death until now, how many rumors about dragons have there been in the north?"

Victoria's brows rose slightly, while Grand Duke Baldwin glanced at her curiously. "Now that you mention it... stories about 'dragons appearing' do seem to be a specialty of your north, don't they?"

"There are indeed occasional tales of dragons in the Northern Territory, and even some small groups that worship them, but they are mostly just mountain folk superstition." Victoria shook her head. "The north is mountainous, and winds and snow often rage through the ranges. The mountain people mistake those storms for dragons roaring. Moreover, the north borders the Holy Dragon Duchy. Its people claim to be descendants of dragons and openly worship dragons as their state faith. The mountain folk have been heavily influenced by them, so naturally all sorts of strange tales have spread. But the Verde Family has lived in the north for seven hundred years, and we have never truly seen a single dragon in the sky. Those stories are nothing but fiction."

"But now a real dragon has appeared. It flew right past my eyes," Gawain said calmly.

"If there truly is a dragon, I will notify you immediately," Victoria said evenly, seeming to smile slightly. "Just now, I thought you were going to invite me to dance."

"I'd better not. I'm not good at it, and after seven hundred years, I don't even know what modern dances look like." Gawain smiled and shook his head, waving a hand. "Go attend to your own affairs. It can't be comfortable keeping a seven-hundred-year-old living fossil company. I'll look around on my own."

Both dukes' expressions stiffened somewhat—Victoria's had been stiff all along. Normally, they were the ones who said such things to younger nobles or minor aristocrats at gatherings. This was the first time in many years that someone had said it to them. It almost felt like returning to childhood...

And they could not even refute it...

Watching the two present-day dukes leave, Gawain sighed inwardly.

Sure enough, it would not be that easy. When he heard the Duke of the Northern Territory mention rumors of dragon sightings during the meeting, he had thought it might be an important clue.

Dragons had been gone from this continent for far too long—so long that there had been no confirmed dragon sightings recorded for nearly a thousand years, so long that those powerful creatures had become almost mythical to the vast majority of intelligent races on the continent. But to Gawain, who had hung in the sky for countless millennia, dragons were no strangers.

After spotting the dragon, he had sorted through the memories in his mind and catalogued every scene involving dragons. After reviewing them, he discovered that nearly all dragons had come from the north.

Whether the interval between appearances was a thousand years or ten thousand, whether one dragon came to the continent or a group of them, they always crossed the northern mountains before entering the continent's interior. And every time dragons appeared, they seemed to have a clear purpose—they flew straight toward the depths of the continent, caused some sort of disturbance, and then swiftly departed, with no intention of sightseeing.

Unfortunately, Gawain's perspective in the sky had been limited. He could see only part of the continent and a small stretch of the Southern Region's coastline. He did not even know how far the northernmost reaches of this land extended, so he had no way of guessing whether those dragons came from beyond the northern Mountain Barrier or from another continent across a more distant sea.

Still, he had a feeling—dragons would definitely appear again.

Gawain's group did not remain in the royal capital for long. They set off on the third day.

The aid promised by the king would still take some time to prepare. Food supplies could not travel by land, or half of them would be consumed along the way by people and horses. By River Transport, they would have to wait until the Dorgon River on the Holy Spirit Plain rose in half a month. The team of one hundred craftsmen and apprentices would also take time to assemble. Mainly, the various associations had to nominate all their unsociable, powerless, ostracized, offending, unlucky members, then select the hundred unluckiest among them and register them. That was also a fairly time-consuming process. It would already be remarkably fast if they could set out before the food was loaded onto the ships.

Gawain could not wait for all that. He had finally obtained the Pioneer Rights he wanted, and countless plans in his mind awaited implementation. So after receiving the pile of documents provided by the king, he left the royal capital without delay.

They had traveled leisurely on the way there, wandering about at a relaxed pace. On the way back, however, they urged their horses onward, wishing they could fly straight home. At times like this, Gawain sincerely envied the "teleportation spells" from the many fantasy novels he had once read. How wonderful it would be to have teleportation—just open a door and arrive home. Why endure all this trouble?

Unfortunately, although magic existed on the Loren Continent, it was nowhere near as convenient as in stories. The various races' use of magic was still largely limited to forming a giant fireball to hurl at someone or compressing a mass of Arcane Energy and smearing it across someone's face. Magic such as teleportation and spatial storage was not entirely unrecorded, but it was essentially the stuff of legend. For instance, it was said that the Primal Elves, long vanished into the river of history, had mastered spatial teleportation technology. Others claimed that Dragon Language Magic—the source of many spells in the world—included descriptions of spatial magic...

Unfortunately, no one had ever seen the real thing.

Meanwhile, Victoria Wilde, Duchess of the Northern Territory, had already returned to Winterkeep Castle in her northern domain.

The dukes guarding the kingdom's four borders could not remain away from their territories for long. Although the north was more stable than the east, it could not be left without someone overseeing the situation. Thus, after finishing her first meeting with Gawain Cecil, Victoria Wilde immediately departed Silver Castle and took the fastest griffin back to her territory ahead of the others.

She casually tossed her thick, warm silver-fox cloak to a servant and strode toward the depths of the castle.

She sat down in her office. A plain-looking woman with black hair and black eyes stepped forward, placed a cup of hot tea on her desk, then moved behind her and skillfully kneaded the Duchess's shoulders.

"You look very tired," the woman said, her voice low and reassuring.

"The Founding Grand Duke truly has returned to life—that legendary Gawain Cecil," Victoria said quietly. "His appearance is exactly the same, and the Pioneer's Sword is exactly the same. I took the risk of using a lie-detection spell, and everything he said was true as well."

The woman who appeared to be a maid, however, contradicted Victoria. "A skilled con artist can evade lie detection, and even when the magic works, it is not always reliable. Arcane arts always involve probability. You cannot rely on them too much."

Victoria shook her head. "Maggie, I also have my instincts."

"Instincts..." The woman called Maggie pondered for a moment. "Then what do you intend to do?"

"That great hero who returned from the dead seems to have no intention of interfering with the kingdom's current power structure. He merely took his Permanent Pioneer Right." Victoria calmly recounted her experience in the royal capital. "What concerns me is his attitude toward the king. I had assumed that Founding Grand Duke would place extreme importance on the legitimate bloodline of the Moen Family, perhaps even confront the current royal family over the matter. Yet he openly acknowledged Francis II as a descendant of the Founding Ancestor... I did not expect that."

"They must have made contact in private." Maggie's hands paused for a moment. "You were careless."

"Careless," Victoria said with a frown. "And now, His Majesty the king will likely be even harder to control..."

"Could it be that you intend to..."

"No." Victoria shook her head. "What the Verde Family wants is for Ansu to prosper forever, not power."

"So you do not intend to take any action." Maggie resumed her massage. "You are too gentle."

"I do not like the way my predecessors handled things. It is no longer suited to this era." As Victoria spoke, her gaze involuntarily lifted toward the wall opposite her.

On that wall hung the Verde Family crest, as well as five portraits—Charles I, the Founding Ancestor, and the four Expansion Knights. These portraits could be said to be standard decorations in the homes of Ansu's nobles.

Beside the portrait of the Verde Family's ancestor hung a portrait of Gawain Cecil. The imposing man in armor, holding the Pioneer's Sword, gazed into the distance with weathered eyes, as though his line of sight could pierce through time and space to see the distant future. The thought made Victoria recall his resurrection after seven hundred years, and she could not help shuddering slightly.

"Vicky?" Maggie's voice came from behind her.

"Put away Grand Duke Cecil's portrait," Victoria Wilde said flatly. "It is no longer appropriate to keep it hanging there."

"Put it away? Is that all right?"

"...He told me so himself. He said he was not used to being hung on a wall while he was still alive." There was even more weariness in Victoria's voice. "He is an elder, and a friend of our ancestors. I cannot simply ignore his words."

"All right." Maggie nodded helplessly and walked toward the other side of the room to take down the portrait.

At that moment, Victoria spoke again. "By the way, Maggie, you are a mountain woman, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Then do you know... stories about dragons? What do you think of them?"

The black-haired, black-eyed woman stood with her back to Victoria. After a brief silence, she shook her head. "They are merely boring legends."

"But a real dragon appeared in Cecil Territory in the south."

"Is that so?" Maggie reached up and removed Gawain Cecil's portrait. "Then it is most likely not a good thing."