Chapter 15 : Dragon’s Flame Thoughts

Aurina stirred slowly, sprawled across Richard’s cloak.

She rolled over, knees pressing into the ground, her slender waist arching as she stretched her arms forward, hips raised, chest grazing the earth.

Her red dragon tail flicked high, the white skirt slipping down its length in a gentle cascade.

After a long, luxurious stretch, she rose to her feet with deliberate grace.

A full belly, a good nap, and a lazy stretch—truly the greatest pleasures of dragon life.

Once she’d gathered the coins scattered across the cloak, Aurina set about her morning routine.

She spat a small burst of fire to brush her teeth, then blew another flame into her palms, cupping the fire and pressing it to her face.

A gust of wind swept away the faint ash, leaving her feeling refreshed and pristine.

“Good morning, Aurina,” came Richard’s voice.

She glanced at her so-called nemesis, who was wiping his face with a damp cloth.

Tch, tch, tch. So filthy, so pathetic.

Even a puny insect like Richard—who’d dared to pin her arm while she slept, gang up on her with his little friends, and somehow, through sheer luck, bested her to claim the title of “strongest insect”—still had to grovel in the dirt.

Even washing his face required a miserly splash of water.

He must be filthy.

“Morning!”

Aurina chirped, tilting her chin upward in a deliberate show of disdain, despite Richard towering over her.

“Poor little insect.”

“That’s one warning for ‘little insect,’” Richard said, his tone calm but firm.

“Tyr taught us that violence isn’t the answer. You’ll write a reflection tonight.”

“Oh, fine,” Aurina replied, waving a hand dismissively.

“Where’s the lamb? This king demands roast lamb!”

“Haven’t you had enough of that?”

Richard ladled a bowl of cabbage soup from the pot, brimming with dried meat and vibrant green leaves, paired with a slice of warm, crusty bread.

“Here’s your breakfast.”

Aurina took the bowl, peering at it, sniffing it, her face crumpling in an instant.

“Grass? You’re feeding this king grass? I’m not a sheep!”

“It’s vegetables. Good for you, and you won’t get fat.”

Aurina’s eyes narrowed with suspicion.

The secret to growing into a mighty dragon, the pinnacle of red dragonkind, was simple: eat meat, exercise, and sleep.

Green, leafy vegetables?

That was grass—fit only for crawling insects who loved munching on it.

She grabbed a handful, tossed it into her mouth, and in a blink, her jaw stretched impossibly wide.

Richard caught a fleeting glimpse of her head transforming into a dragon’s maw, capable of swallowing half a sheep in one bite.

A red blur flashed, and the cabbage vanished midair.

Aurina’s cheeks puffed as she chewed, only for her face to turn green.

She spat it out with a dramatic “Gah! Grass! It’s awful! Only little—”

She caught Richard’s lofty gaze and swallowed the words “little insects” back down.

“Only short people eat grass.”

“Picky eating no good,” Richard said.

“Dragons don’t eat grass.”

Richard paused, reflecting.

Maybe it wasn’t fair to hold a dragon to human standards.

Perhaps dragons really couldn’t stomach vegetables.

“Fine,” he conceded.

“We’re out of sheep—you ate the last one yesterday. But there should be livestock in the goblin nest.”

Aurina wolfed down the meat from the bowl in a flash, muttering, “Then what are we waiting for?”

“We need to be cautious,” Richard said.

“Goblins are numerous. We’re best off trapping them in their nest, where the tight terrain limits their numbers.”

Aurina sniffed the warm bread, then tossed it aside with a flick of her wrist.

“What are you doing?”

Richard caught the bread midair.

“Don’t waste food.”

“It smells bad.”

“So you just throw it away?”

Richard’s tone was incredulous.

“People starve without even a crumb of bread.”

Aurina blinked, puzzled.

“What’s that got to do with me tossing bread?”

“It’s a moral issue. Society’s food supply is finite—it’s not just a commodity, it’s—”

Ugh, so preachy.

Aurina’s patience wore thin.

Why should this king listen to an insect’s sermon?

With a flick of her tail, she aimed a swipe at Richard’s leg—a habit for brushing aside annoying insects.

The tail struck with force, clanging against Richard’s armored shin.

He grabbed her dragon tail, tugging lightly.

“What was that for?”

Aurina yelped as her hips twisted sideways, reminded suddenly of her current weakness and Richard’s temporary strength.

She quickly chanted in her defense: “This king is still a girl!”

“And?”

She recalled a phrase she’d overheard from villagers: “Kids play rough sometimes.”

“Control your strength next time,” Richard said, releasing her tail.

“And don’t do that to others—it could hurt someone.”

Hah!

This king’s wit easily outshines the strongest insect!

Aurina smirked inwardly.

“So, I can only do it to you, right?” she nodded eagerly.

“Got it.”

Mimicking Richard, she pressed the bread into the meaty broth, soaking up the juices before taking a bite.

Soft, savory, and rich—not bad at all.

Richard, watching her, softened.

“For a kid like you, going without meat seems cruel. The goblin nest should have livestock. Hold out a few days.”

“How many days?” Aurina asked.

“Not sure. A week at most.”

“Then I’ll eat roasted goblin!”

“No.”

“I’m just a little girl! A kid!”

“Even more reason not to,” Richard said firmly.

“Unless it’s dire, I’m not roasting goblins.”

“Then I’ll burn them myself!”

“No,” Richard repeated.

“No eating humanoid creatures.”

“Gah!” Aurina’s enthusiasm deflated.

“Fine. How many coins do we get for saving the princess? Will the king give us his entire treasury?”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Richard said, extending his hand.

“Give me your bowl.”

The bowl was spotless, giving Richard a small sense of satisfaction, like feeding a pet.

“Wait, is this my bowl from now on?”

“Yup.”

“Mine!”

Aurina snatched it back, licked it with her long tongue, and bit a chunk out of the rim.

Holding it aloft, she declared, “I licked it. It’s mine.”

She spat fire onto the bowl, scorching it clean, then waved it to scatter the ash.

Richard watched, fascinated.

“How do you burn off dirt without damaging the wood?”

“Dunno,”

Aurina said.

“Is that weird?”

“Very,” Richard replied.

“You do the same with clothes. Silk should burn easily, and your fire resistance explains part of it, but how do you burn away stains without ruining the fabric?”

“Why not?”

Aurina scoffed, thinking Richard was hopelessly dim.

Losing to such a fool was downright embarrassing—surely it was just dumb luck.

“If this king wills it, it happens.”

“If it’s that easy, you can clean the dishes from now on.”

“No way,” Aurina said.

“It’s not even my bowl.”

Richard saw a teaching moment.

“I cook for you, you clean the dishes. Fair trade, right?”

“Nope,” Aurina said.

“You can do it all, and I’ll nap.”

Richard sighed.

“So selfish, yet so shameless about it. Let’s move.”

As Richard bent to pack, Aurina pounced, straddling his shoulders, legs dangling around his face.

“Get down.”

“Carry me!” she chirped.

“I’m just a kid.”

“That’s exactly why not.”

Richard tugged her tail, but Aurina clung to her lofty perch, wrapping her arms around his head.

“Your red hair’s a beacon for goblins,” Richard said.

“And you’re tall enough to be an easy target.”

“Don’t care. Goblins are just snacks.”

“You’re still a kid.”

Richard yanked her tail harder, and with a reluctant grumble, Aurina slid to the ground.

Richard loomed tall again, much to her draconic displeasure.

“Stay behind me,” he instructed.

“We’re sneaking in. Don’t let the goblins spot us.”

Aurina bristled at being treated like a weakling.

Raising a clawed hand, she declared, “I’m a true dragon! Goblins are nothing before my might!”

“You’re a kid,” Richard said.

“Stick with me and memorize the six principles of stealth…”

He produced a booklet titled The Principles of Stealth, published by the Tyr’s Hand Knight Order, sixth edition.

Before long, under Richard’s half-coercive guidance, a sulky Aurina was draped in a brown hooded cloak to hide her hair and white skirt.

Following the booklet’s instructions, Richard wove a net, tied branches and grass to it, and crafted a camouflage suit.

When Aurina crouched in it, she blended seamlessly into the surroundings.

“Here.”

Richard handed her a crown woven from twigs.

Aurina, the fearsome dragon, donned it curiously.

In all her years, she’d never experienced such a thing.

Her idea of a “sneak attack” was shapeshifting into human form and charging straight into a rival’s lair.

“Not bad,” she said, adjusting the crown over her horns.

“Stay close and take it slow,” Richard said.

“We’ll wait for night. You can see in the dark, right?”

Aurina nodded.

“Good. If anything happens, tug my cloak. If we fight, stay behind me and only burn goblins when I say so. Got it?”

So underestimated.

Aurina yawned.

“Got it, got it, got it.”

“Let’s go.”

Clad in his camouflage, Richard moved forward, his armor clanking faintly beneath.

The Principles of Stealth hadn’t mentioned removing plate armor, so the paladin kept it on.

Thus, the dragon and the paladin “stealthily” advanced toward the goblin nest.

Night fell, stars crowding the sky.

The hills lay cloaked in darkness, their outlines softened by moonlight.

In the valley below, the goblin camp buzzed with life, its fires blazing like a pit of flame.

At the valley’s edge, a goblin sentinel perched on a rock, yawning.

Below, his kin chased and brawled, the unlucky ones beaten and sent to stand watch.

Clank, clank…

“What’s that?”

The goblin turned, spotting a helmeted head sprouting grass and twigs from behind the rock.

Richard lunged, pinning the goblin and twisting its head with a sharp jerk.

“No surprise, goblins do have keen ears,” he muttered.

“Waaagh!”

The goblin, still alive, screeched.

Startled, Richard yanked harder.

With a sickening crack, the goblin’s neck stretched grotesquely, nearly torn from its body.