"Dragon Might"

"All right, Sovell. Now that your problem is sorted out, I should head back to Avalon. Get to town soon. The Selection of the King Ceremony is tomorrow. See you later."

As he spoke, Merlin's figure gradually faded, disappearing entirely a moment later.

"See you later."

Sovell replied, then tucked Barghest back into his gorget and headed toward the opposite bank of the River Severn.

I can't use magecraft anymore, so I'll gather magical energy beneath my feet, and then...

Boom!

An explosive bang rang out from the northern bank of the River Severn. Immediately afterward, a white streak shot across the river.

Creak~

In town, the door of a tavern swung open. It seemed to have suffered from years of neglect, its hinges letting out a piercing squeal.

The cold wind outside blew into the room, making the flames in the wall lamps flicker.

"One hot milk, please."

A boy in a white robe walked in and closed the door behind him. A lock of silver hair peeked out from beneath his hood.

He placed a dozen or so copper coins on the tavern counter, then sat in a chair in the corner.

The bartender did not look down on the newcomer for his youthful voice and immediately began warming a cup of milk.

A short while later, the bartender brought the heated milk to the corner and handed it to the boy.

"Your milk, sir."

"Oh, right. Thank you."

The boy accepted the milk with a word of thanks, then placed several copper coins on the bartender's tray.

"This is for your service."

"Thank you very much. Is there anything else you need?"

The boy thought for a moment before replying:

"Did you hear anything late this afternoon, around dusk? Or perhaps see anything?"

Whether taverns in the West or teahouses and restaurants in the East, such places had always been excellent spots to gather information.

"Hmm... I'm terribly sorry. We've had rather a lot of people here these past two days, so the tavern has been a little noisy. I didn't hear anything."

The bartender gave his answer respectfully.

The boy nodded, then continued his questions:

"What about the other people? Those who came after sunset, for instance."

The bartender looked up at the old ceiling, recalling what he had seen and heard after sunset:

"'Hey, A▇to▇s, did you hear that just now?'

A voice had rung out in the tavern, seemingly addressing someone who had come with him.

'Hmm? What?'

The other voice was somewhat lighter than the first, its owner apparently not having caught on.

'Are your ears just there for ventilation...? That sound coming from across the River Severn.

It seemed to be raining over there just now, too. There was thunder.'

▇▇ ▇▇ ▇ ▇▇▇▇ ▇▇..."

The bartender searched his memory for anything relevant to the boy's question, but found only that one fragment.

He had not caught the name of the companion of that rather sharp-tongued customer, and he could not remember anything after that.

Still, it was enough to answer the customer before him:

"Yes. One customer discussed it with his companion. He said there was some noise across the River Severn, and that it seemed to be raining there, too."

"All right. Sorry for the trouble."

"Not at all. Is there anything else you'd like to ask?"

The boy shook his head.

The bartender withdrew.

The boy took out several pieces of dried meat and chewed them with his hot milk, using his other hand to offer a piece toward the floor beside him.

A little black dog with a pink flower on her head appeared beside him, took the dried meat from his hand, and began eating as well.

"This is trouble."

The boy frowned.

"Lia might find out..."

Sovell had come to this tavern to gather information precisely because he wanted to keep Artoria from learning about his condition as much as possible. It might cause her unnecessary trouble.

But judging by what he had learned, someone already knew about what had happened to him, and word would certainly spread far and wide.

After all, the Selection of the King Ceremony was approaching, even setting aside the enormous influx of people into this little town.

Abnormal weather and large numbers of wild beasts dying in a region still in the Age of Gods would alone be enough to spark a great many rumors.

And it was not just Artoria...

"Father, too."

If someone had heard his Dragon Roar, word might spread even further.

Dragons in Britain... Other than Lia's "red dragon" and a miscellaneous assortment of "sub-dragon kind," there's only my "white dragon."

His father's "white dragon" was merely a symbolic white dragon, representing the opposite of the "red dragon."

Come to think of it, I don't even know what Sir Brian told Father after I jumped off that cliff back then.

"His Highness jumped off a cliff, leaving no remains" would be fine.

But if it was "His Highness jumped off a cliff, but his body could not be found," that would be bad.

The former description explicitly stated that he was already "dead."

The latter, however, meant his fate was unknown. It was possible that there truly were "no remains."

But in a certain sense, it was more likely to suggest that someone had rescued him and that he was still alive.

As far as his father knew, he had already been capable of escaping the valley through a blockade of knights and mages.

Thus, even though his body had only had seven years to grow back then, its strength had been enough to overwhelm an adult man.

After a fall from a cliff several hundred meters high, especially with thickets directly below, an intact body should have been the most normal outcome.

But Merlin had already rescued him, so naturally, no supposed corpse could have been lying in those thickets waiting to be found.

That was where the problem lay.

You jumped off a cliff, but your body wasn't at the bottom or caught anywhere along the cliff face. They couldn't even find pieces of it, as though it had simply vanished into thin air.

That left only three possibilities:

First, someone took your body away and buried it somewhere.

Never mind who would bother burying an unidentified corpse in times like these. There might not even have been a single household within miles of that godforsaken place where I jumped. This was the most ridiculous possibility.

Second, wild beasts ate your body, and the bones were carried off as well.

His father would certainly have sent people to search for his body immediately after he jumped. Counting from the moment Sir Brian saw him leap until the troops arrived, it would have taken three or four days at most.

He might have spent nearly two weeks running back then, but he had no idea whether he had been traveling in a straight line. He had simply dashed about at random and probably had not gotten very far.

Within those three or four days, his body would not have rotted, nor could wild beasts have eaten it. Why?

Because of "dragon might."

The bloodline of dragon kind was inherently nobler than that of other beasts-including primates-and phantasmal species. Generally speaking, they were the race with the most powerful individuals in the world.

Moreover, they could generate magical energy simply by breathing, so that energy would often unconsciously seep out at an exceedingly slow rate.

These tiny amounts of escaping magical energy carried the aura of dragon kind, exerting a constant deterrent upon the creatures around them.

This phenomenon was called "dragon might."

So why had the dragon slayers throughout human history all been outstanding heroes?

Because they had slain their opponents while enduring the psychological pressure of their "dragon might." As such, dragon slayers generally possessed great strength of character.

Of course, certain exceptions did not count.

Many powerful wild beasts could also overcome "dragon might," but only its weaker forms.

For instance, the "dragon might" of members of the "sub-dragon kind," such as wyverns, was weak due to their inferior bloodlines. Even sufficiently brave humans could resist it.

His own "dragon might," however, exerted absolute suppression over wild beasts.