Chapter 83: The Gift

In the palace, a private meeting was underway.

Nobles, court mages, and the chosen of Bane were present, but none matched the prestige of the renowned and fabulously wealthy Countess of Champagne.

Frostsilver’s sharp eyes swept the room. 

“I was hoping to meet the legendary Thousand Crows.”

The Emperor of the Yanting Empire held a gleaming silver goblet, as polished and radiant as himself. 

“He always hides where others can’t see. He’s everywhere.”

“Maintaining mystery by dodging important guests? How crude.”

Frostsilver sipped her milk tea slowly, her golden eyes noting the weapons placed nearby, including her staff.

She didn’t care about the staff’s seven hundred forty-one gold coin value.

Disarming was risky but necessary to show goodwill.

How could unity be achieved if they couldn’t even set aside weapons to talk?

Frostsilver knew this, but no one here was fish on a chopping block.

In the intrigue-laden courts of the Yanting Empire, trusting promises was laughable.

Thus, the weapons were kept close, unguarded, within seconds’ reach for those present.

As for Frostsilver, she had a trump card to arm herself and her five “servants”—actually knights—waiting outside in under a second.

The Emperor laughed heartily, his face smiling while the flesh beneath failed to match. 

“Countess Frostsilver, your sharp tongue. But the Thousand Crows will impress you. Unseen shadows are the most terrifying. The so-called dragon-slaying hero will soon taste his power.”

What a performative bug, Frostsilver thought. 

Talking about unseen shadows one moment, then leaking that the Thousand Crows is about to act.

She stared at him expressionlessly, sipping her tea. 

“Have you considered my proposal?”

“I want a dragon—one that can carry me soaring through the skies, not some broken, weakened creature.”

“My family knows dragons better than anyone. An ancestor, Nefari, pioneered dragon-blood potions,” Frostsilver said, setting down her empty cup. 

“I only need to extract some living flesh to study the dragon. I’ll return her to you, less healthy but able to grow into a strong adult dragon in just a few years. The cost? Merely burning a century off her lifespan.”

The Emperor leaned forward. 

“How long would it normally take for a young dragon like her to grow strong enough to carry me across battlefields?”

Frostsilver gazed at her empty cup, picturing a robust young dragon and a frail one.

Am I getting old? 

Why do I keep recalling childhood these days?

“Sixty years,” she said.

“Ten for a red dragon to flap its wings out of the valley and hunt alone. Another fifty to grow fearsome enough for battlefields.”

“You’re sure you can make her mature in just a few years?”

“Of course, though she’ll be short-lived for a dragon,” Frostsilver said. 

“When you’re old and want to pass her on, find me or my daughter. We might extend her life a bit. That’s the only flaw.”

“Hahaha!” 

The Emperor’s eyes lit up. 

“That’s no flaw. In the long run, we’ll all be dead.”

Only you bugs.

Frostsilver said, “So?”

“Excellent, very good,” the Emperor said. 

“Your terms are generous. By the way, as a learned dragon scholar, I have a question. Can the Dread Dragon revive? Look at my guard captain from the North Peninsula—he says dragons never die.”

“Strictly speaking, a legendary ancient dragon like the Dread Dragon can revive,” Frostsilver said. 

“Myths worldwide mention dragon resurrection. But rest assured, for one like the Dread Dragon, it takes at least a century to return to the mortal plane.”

“That’s a relief,” the Emperor said, laughing again. Frostsilver noted this time both skin and flesh smiled. 

“By then, he’ll fly to my grave, spit fire on my tombstone, and tear it apart. But it won’t change the fact that his daughter will have served me for nearly a century, broken and worn.”

He laughed with glee. 

“That’s the best retribution for the monster who toyed with my daughter.”

Frostsilver said slowly, “You’re overthinking. Red dragons are chaotic and evil, with no loyalty to family or duty to their young. Being born a red dragon is the worst luck. The Dread Dragon wouldn’t mourn his daughter, despite Aurina being the purest red dragon, embodying their virtues. Just as Aurina feels no grief for her father’s death and no hatred for Richard.”

The Emperor’s laughter stopped. 

“Really?”

“That’s how red dragons are,” Frostsilver said in an expert tone. 

“Besides, the Dread Dragon’s daughters… you’d need a day and night to count them all.”

The Emperor slammed his fist on the table, venting his frustration.

“What a beast! Doesn’t even love his own daughter!”

“He’s decent by dragon standards,” Frostsilver sneered. 

“At least he gives gold and treasures to the females carrying his blood.”

“That’s an insult,” the Emperor said.

“He used gold to humiliate me, defiling and stealing my daughter before my eyes.”

“There’s a dragon proverb,” Frostsilver said.

“‘The Dread Dragon never parts with a single coin. The only way to get gold from his belly is to kill him.’”

The Emperor laughed again. 

“But I did it! Hahaha, I did it. Frostsilver, I like you as a partner. The dragon-slaying sword? I’ll agree to give it to you, as long as you keep your promise…”

A servant brought a plate of viscous, milky-white foreign dish with potato chunks, setting it on the table.

Seeing it, Frostsilver instantly recalled her childhood, bathed in her mother’s vomit alongside her brother and siblings.

One of the worst days.

Only her brain-damaged brother could revel in it, proudly proclaiming to all dragons that he invented breath-cooking, eating happily.

“Urgh!” 

She gagged, pointing at the dish.

It exploded into pieces, splattering the viscous food across the Emperor’s face and purple robe.

“What a disgusting dish,” Frostsilver said indignantly, showing no remorse for the splattered Emperor. 

“It shouldn’t exist in this world.”

“Bang!” 

The sticky-faced Emperor slammed the table in fury.

Frostsilver’s insolence and the mess fueled his rage.

Servants rushed over, wiping the vomit-like food off him with soft white cloths.

The Emperor glared at the tall Frostsilver and her unapologetic face.

She was a valuable ally, but as a dignified Emperor, now was the time to show his imperial grace.

“Hahaha,” he laughed, skin smiling, flesh not. “Countess Frostsilver, you really hate sticky food.”

“Yes,” she said, eyeing him. “It’s like vomit.”

***

The cart laden with “treasures” rolled into the temple district, entering a residential area attached to the temple.

Guards approached, and soon someone sprinted down the corridor, pounding on Sophia’s door.

“Knock knock knock!”

Sophia, lying on her bed, called, “Who’s there?”

“The dragon-slaying hero’s back with a huge swordfish!”

Sophia threw off her blanket and got up.

She was in full attire, chainmail under her simple priestly robe—not sleeping.

As the saying goes, if you can lie down, don’t sit, especially in armor.

She wanted to shed it, but Richard had repeatedly said to stay armored when possible.

Sophia didn’t grab her shield, opened the door, and saw her fiancé approaching from the corridor’s other end, holding something.

“Darling, you’re back from shopping with Aurina?”

“Yes,” Richard said. “I got you some gifts.”

Sophia smiled, taking them. “Then they’re mine.”

The gift was well-wrapped, a red ribbon tied in a bow on a pale yellow box.

Sophia’s fingers brushed the box. “I’ve never seen paper this sturdy.”

“It’s supposedly from Shenzhou, called golden paper.”

Sophia opened it, revealing a dazzling shell necklace with interspersed pearls, exquisitely crafted with carefully chosen, beautifully colored shells.

Her face lit up. “It’s gorgeous.”

“I found it at a foreign trinket stall. They say it’s made with a special technique. The vendor only sells a few days a year and was about to leave, but I caught him.”

“It doesn’t match this outfit,” Sophia said. “But at a banquet, it’ll be stunning.”

Richard said, “I know you like it, ‘At a banquet, I’m like a dragon.’”

“Really, you remember that?” 

Sophia tucked the necklace into her personal pouch. 

“Where’s Aurina?”

“She’s lighting the fire.”

“She’s actually working?”

Richard said, “Because I’m cooking her dinner to show her the ‘good’ of society, or she won’t understand order.”

“I’ll help.”

Sophia and Richard went downstairs.

Seeing the treasure-laden cart, so colorful, Aurina’s head popped out, her joyful voice echoing, “Treasure! My treasure!”

She leapt from the pile, holding half the swordfish, and ran to Richard. 

“Richard! Quick, cook for this king!”

“Alright, alright, coming.”

Richard and Aurina headed to the open-air kitchen, where the fire was already burning.

Sophia stayed put, gazing at the cart’s “treasure” pile.