"Charles."
"Here."
"Hypamira."
"I'm here, my lord."
"Lady Nemesis."
The female knight hid behind a Dragon Blood Tree and nodded at Brando from a distance.
The afternoon sunlight filled the entire valley, yet the valley was utterly silent. Looking down through the dense branches, the first thing that caught their eyes was a **beautiful back, its glossy black scales arranged in tight rows, followed by a pair of enormous batlike wings and a coiled neck. At the top of the neck was a skull-like head. It was a dragon. She lay quietly in the valley, her massive body nearly filling it completely, while several tiny creatures busily scurried around her.
On the light screen produced by Charles's Scrying, goblins, Great Goblins, and several kobolds appeared. The dragon seemed to be resting, her leathery eyelids drooping as she remained completely still, only occasionally flicking her long tail.
Count Orcons watched the elegant, enormous creature with some trepidation. This dragon was slightly smaller than the one they had seen the previous night, so it was probably the black dragon that had left alone. At his signal, Sir Cooper, standing beside him, spoke up. "What should we do, commander?"
Commander—ever since the battle last night, this title had clearly become the formal way the surviving Cruzian nobles addressed Brando. Brando understood that, subconsciously, it represented his rising status in their eyes. How much practical use that rise would have beyond the present situation, however, was difficult to say.
He glanced into the valley as well, then gently shook his head. The dragon had blocked their path, and it truly could not have happened at a worse time. "It's lying here basking in the sun, which means it hasn't noticed us. It might be resting, or it might be waiting for Malthus. We'll wait