Chapter 20 : Cabbage is enough to fill you up

Aurina’s mind spun at a pace she hadn’t known in a lifetime.

Richard towered over her, his sword gleaming long and lethal, while her own body—scrawny, reeking, utterly unprepared—stood no chance against him.

She faced a quandary unlike any before, a true crisis in her storied existence.

Richard had tossed out a casual question, but Aurina’s silence stretched, heavy and telling.

“Aurina?” he pressed, his voice slicing the quiet.

“Gah… haha…”

Her tongue stumbled, a clumsy tangle of nerves.

She flicked her eyes toward the cave’s exit.

By cruel fate, Richard stood squarely in her path, right at the cave’s narrow throat where the ceiling dipped low.

Even if she shifted into her dragon form, slipping past him would be no small feat—and that massive sword, the sanctified Holy Slash, could cleave her in two.

Her body coiled, crouching as her gaze darted left and right.

“Aurina? What are you doing?”

Richard’s tone edged with suspicion.

“N-nothing! I’m not doing anything!” she stammered, her voice a traitor.

His stance was too perfect, too calculated.

He must have pierced her disguise, glimpsed her true self.

Curse it all! she thought.

It had to be her aura—her innate, regal majesty no mortal guise could hide.

How could it not?

She was a born sovereign, king of kings, her grandeur too vast for a frail, feminine shell.

As her thoughts raced, she inched backward, only to realize with a sinking heart that the cave had no rear exit.

Damn it all!

She despised caves now, especially ones without a back door.

Once, she’d savored them—trapping scurrying insects with nowhere to flee.

But now?

Her prison.

“Aurina?”

Richard’s voice sharpened, teasing now.

“You look like a thief caught red-handed.”

“Look! Behind you!”

Aurina’s hand shot out, pointing wildly over his shoulder.

Richard turned, and in that fleeting moment, she seized her chance.

With a leap, she erupted into motion, crimson light flaring as she transformed.

Her true form—a red dragon vast as two bulls—unfurled, her mighty wings beating once, hind legs kicking off the ground.

A cloud of dust and a goblin corpse hurtled toward Richard as she launched forward.

Richard swatted the goblin’s body aside with one motion, but Aurina was already soaring, an arrow loosed from a bow, streaking over the villagers’ stunned heads below.

Too easy! she crowed to herself.

The wit of insects could never match my brilliance!

She twisted her long neck to glance back, jaws parting in a mocking laugh.

“Gah-gah-gah—!”

Her triumph faltered.

Richard vanished from the ground, and a sudden tug yanked her tail.

She looked down to see him gripping it, his feet skidding as he ran to keep from injuring her.

Aurina had no patience for his chivalry.

Her hind legs lashed out, claws raking sparks across his helmet.

Her wings beat furiously, whipping up a storm of sand and stone.

Richard’s feet began to lift from the ground, but he clung stubbornly to her tail, his other hand snatching a passing “throne”—a crude goblin creation, yet sturdy enough for a dragon king.

The throne wobbled under his grip, and a jolt of pain shot through Aurina’s tail, accompanied by an imagined crack of bone.

Her massive body lurched downward, her chin slamming into the earth with a force that rattled her teeth.

When she twisted to look, a steel boot landed beside her draconic head.

“Aurina! What are you doing?”

Richard’s voice boomed, exasperated.

In that moment, time seemed to freeze, echoing a memory from long ago.

But Aurina’s clever mind sparked with an idea—a spell born from a human girl’s antics.

She shifted back to human form, rolling dramatically across the ground, flailing her limbs in a mimicry of a child’s tantrum.

She’d seen human younglings cast spells this way, and that insufferable sister of hers had said gestures paired with incantations made magic stronger.

Surely, then, more incantations were better.

As she rolled, she chanted, “I’m just a little girl! I’m still a child! Children don’t know better, just playing around!”

Three spells in one breath.

Richard froze, visibly thrown.

He lifted his visor, staring at the dust-caked Aurina, unsure how to respond.

At his waist, the red glow of his fire-scale trinket dimmed, like cooling iron losing its heat.

That fool Richard, she thought.

He stole my 8,527th treasure—a relic that lets him teleport!

No wonder he could match her unparalleled speed.

Richard extended a hand, his tone softening.

“It must be a misunderstanding. Come on, get up.”

Aurina sprang to her feet, spinning in midair, dust scattering like a smokescreen.

Richard yanked his visor down and waved the cloud away.

When it cleared, Aurina stood pristine, as if she’d never touched the filthy ground.

“So,” she said, tilting her head, “what do you think this is about?”

Richard hesitated.

“For a moment, I thought you might be Obus, the Dread Dragon.”

Aurina’s heart soared.

Her “little girl” spell had worked, flipping his perception entirely.

She planted her hands on her hips, puffing out her chest.

“Just a kid, playing around!”

“I figured as much,” Richard said, his voice heavy with patience.

“I know children idolize their parents, but you can’t follow your father’s path. If you do, I’ll have no choice but to hunt you down.”

A pang shot through her throat and chest.

Richard pressed on, his tone that of a weary teacher.

“When I was a boy, I heard tales of Obus, the Dread Dragon. From elves, from merfolk, from every nation and culture.”

“He was flood, blizzard, thunderstorm, tsunami—an unstoppable calamity. Mortals quaked beneath his wings, groveling for mercy.”

“Cunning, powerful, greedy, and utterly depraved, he spared not even the elven royal house. His spawn litter the world, a plague upon it.”

He fixed her with a stern look.

“You must not take your father as your idol.”

“Keep talking,” Aurina said, her voice dripping with pride.

“I love hearing this.”

Richard curled his index and middle fingers, forming a fist primed for a skull-rattling knock.

“I won’t idolize my father!” she blurted, quick to deflect.

Richard continued, undeterred.

“My companion, Frostsilver the Unicorn, is a master of dragon lore. She told me Obus was the most fearsome of red dragons—a true monster.”

“That battle was a nightmare. Without my companions and the advantage of his own lair’s terrain, we’d have stood no chance.”

He shuddered, lost in the memory of Obus’s towering, ferocious form.

Aurina tilted her chin upward, eyes narrowing with delight, like a cat basking in a scratch under its jaw.

Her face, soft with the faint roundness of youth yet sharp like a melon seed, glowed with mischievous charm.

Her smile was a ray of spring sunlight, disarming and impossible to resent.

Richard gazed at her, and a ridiculous thought he’d entertained—that Aurina was Obus—felt utterly foolish.

How could the mighty Dread Dragon be this adorable, innocent, childlike creature?

“Just don’t emulate your father, got it?”

“Mm-hmm!”

He sighed.

“I know you’re not listening.”

“Mm-hmm!”

“Fine. Tonight, you’re copying the book, as promised. You will keep your word.”

“Mm-hmm!”

Aurina nodded absently, Richard’s words and a passing breeze alike slipping past her ears.

He sighed again.

Teaching a child was hard—especially one with the innate wickedness of a true dragon.

He considered seeking help from Frostsilver, his formidable dragon-blooded sorceress companion.

But he hesitated.

As the sole heir of an ancient noble line, Frostsilver carried herself with a dragon’s arrogance, aloof and unapproachable even after battles fought side by side.

To Richard, she still felt like a stranger.

Yet, he chided himself, why let pride stand in the way?

When it came to understanding dragons, Frostsilver was unmatched.

“Let’s go,” he said.

“Carry me, little bug!”

Aurina chirped.

“Don’t call people ‘little bugs,’” he corrected, though the effort felt futile by now.

“Strongest pest, then!”

Richard raised his hand, brandishing it like a weapon.

“Richard, carry me!”

Aurina stretched out her arms.

He crouched, and she clambered onto his shoulders, her white-stockinged legs dangling like pale scallions against his chestplate.

He pulled his visor down, hiding her legs from view.

Aurina patted his helmet.

“Go, Richard, go!”

As they walked, Richard’s gaze fell on the scattered corpses of dragonkin goblins littering the path.

“Even in death, the Dread Dragon’s spawn plague the world,” he muttered.

“What?!”

Aurina stared at a charred red-skinned goblin, affronted.

“Those aren’t his spawn. Impossible. Absolutely impossible.”

“Then how do you wield a dragon’s aura to cow them?”

Richard asked.

“Because I’m a true dragon!” she declared.

“You can insult the Dread Dragon’s looks, but don’t you dare insult his taste! Would you bed the cabbage you fancied this morning?”

“Then where do these dragonkin goblins come from?”

“Hmph. Some low-class red dragon with no taste, scattering seed everywhere to win the Red Dragon Championship.”

“Red Dragon Championship?”

Richard raised an eyebrow.

“It’s where dragons gather to choose the strongest, biggest, most magnificent red dragon!”

Aurina puffed out her chest.

“Only the greediest, mightiest, most lascivious dragon claims the title!”

“No wonder,” Richard said.

“I heard Obus had an eye for beauty, but would he really stoop to goblins?”

Aurina’s mind raced through the countless mothers of her offspring—creatures of sea, sky, land, and deep earth.

Too many to recall.

Her head grew hot, and doubt crept in.

Could there have been a particularly fetching goblin among them?

She glanced at the blackened goblin corpses and smacked Richard’s helmet.

“Impossible. Absolutely impossible.”

The group found food and set off for home.

The goblins had vanished, as if they’d never been.

Richard knew the resilient pests would return, but without dragonkin among them, the local lord could handle it.

At Cabbage Village, cries of “Grandma!” and “Little Red Hood!” rang out.

The old woman and the girl embraced, tears streaming as villagers reunited with loved ones.

“I’m sorry,” Little Red Hood said shyly, approaching her grandmother.

“They said no princess or lady would save country folk, so I…”

“It’s fine,” Richard said.

“I’m here to uphold my lord’s creed—and to sell a bit of violence.”

“Gold! Silver! Meat!”

Aurina thrust out her hands. “Hand it over!”

“Of course,” the village elder said.

“We’re deeply grateful for saving our village.”

The villagers scraped together their payment: a cart and a mountain of cabbages.

Aurina stared at the heap, her face darkening.

“Four gold, three silver, four copper,” she muttered, naming her price.