When Clareville's reply arrived at Valeria Hall, Lucia was practicing Dragon King's Body in the courtyard.
Guerel took a metal tube, sealed with a secret technique, from the taciturn messenger and hurried to the inner courtyard. There, she found Elder Atok, his hair half white, already waiting.
The more than seven-hundred-year-old elder sat in a lounge chair beneath the shade of a tree, poring over a tome on Storm Combat Arts. His rough, rootlike fingers turned the slightly yellowed pages, and his eyes occasionally flashed with interest.
"Ah, Guerel..." Atok noticed the young woman and beckoned with a smile. "The princess is at a crucial point in her training. Wait here for a while."
Like Guerel and Ekzykes, the elder was a high-ranking dragon of exceptionally pure blood. The other two were all but certain to become members of the Council of Elders one day, so Atok had always regarded them as promising juniors worth guiding. They had always been quite close.
"Elder." Guerel stepped forward and bowed. Her attention was soon drawn to the tome in his hands, and she asked curiously, "This book can't even count as an introductory text for you, can it? Why are you so engrossed in it?"
Atok laughed, closed the book, and handed it to her. "You wouldn't understand. Here, have a look for yourself."
Guerel took the tome and casually opened it to a page. At first, she showed no reaction, but after turning a couple of pages, her sharp brows lifted slightly. Her fingers flipped through the book faster and faster, and her expression shifted from calm to astonishment. By the final few pages, she was deeply shaken.
She set the tome down and looked toward Lucia, who sat cross-legged on the ground nearby with his eyes closed. Then she asked