Aurina, proud and imperious, would never deign to heed the prattle of a mere insect.
Why should a dragon pause its jaws for the buzzing of a bug?
Yet when Richard strode before her, his towering figure casting a shadow that enveloped her, an inexplicable phantom pain pulsed at the crown of her skull.
“What’s the matter?” she growled, dangling a goblin by its ankle.
The creature was charred beyond life, its half-scorched flesh almost resembling something human.
“You can’t eat goblins,” Richard said firmly.
Aurina tilted her head.
“Why not? It’s just a little snack. What’s the harm?”
“How can you even think of eating that?”
“Why can’t I?”
Aurina retorted, her voice light with defiance.
“This is healthy, green food! Perfect for a pre-dinner nibble.”
Her red hair framed a face so clear-eyed, so innocent, that if not for the goblin in her grip, Richard might have mistaken her for a child appraising a candy wrapped in pink sugar paper.
But the more he stared at the goblin, the more human it seemed, and his stomach churned.
“Don’t you think it looks… human?” he ventured.
“It does,” she admitted casually.
“Then how can you stomach it?”
“Why not?”
Aurina’s eyes sparkled as if recalling a fond memory.
She thrust the goblin toward him.
“Oh, right! You haven’t slathered it with tasty sauce yet. Go on, sauce it up!”
The half-burnt corpse swayed before Richard, its acrid stench of charred flesh assaulting his nostrils.
He couldn’t bear it.
With a swift motion, he knocked the goblin from her hand.
“Gah! My green snack!”
Aurina cried, her voice a mix of indignation and mock generosity.
“If you wanted some, I’d share a hand—no, an arm!”
“Enough!”
Richard bellowed.
Aurina raised her golden eyes, wide and guileless. His resolve wavered.
He felt a pang of guilt—too harsh, too quick to violence when words might have sufficed.
She was still a child, after all.
Taking a deep breath, he softened his tone.
“If it looks human, you can’t eat it. Because if you eat goblins today, tomorrow it’s beastmen, then humans the day after. I don’t even want to imagine what comes next.”
What’s wrong with eating humans?
Aurina nearly blurted. She preferred goblins and beastmen—green food, chewy and satisfying.
Humans?
She only ate the ones who came to slay her, the little insects who sparked her appetite after a good fight.
A bit of tough meat was good for the body, or so she believed.
But Richard’s hand rested on her head, warm and steady.
She swallowed her retort.
“So… no green snacks?”
“I’m sorry for my actions earlier; I shouldn’t have lashed out. My logic slipped,” Richard admitted.
“But I’m trying to teach you goodness and beauty. I don’t want you to succumb to your wicked nature, to become a dragon like your father, scourge of the world.”
Hmph.
This world only sparkles because of me, Aurina thought, pouting.
But she nodded.
“I’m serious,” Richard pressed.
“You promise not to use mocking names, then turn around and call people ‘insects.’ I can be patient—it’s a slow change. But eating people, even goblins? That’s a line you can’t cross.”
Aurina nodded again, her tail lashing the ground in irritation.
A dragon, bullied by a bug!
Just wait, she fumed.
When I’m big and strong again, this tail alone will crush you to death.
She glanced at her tail, watching a pebble skitter under its furious swipes.
In her mind, that pebble was Richard—future Richard—begging for mercy as her massive tail loomed overhead.
“Aurina.”
“Huh?”
Her tail froze guiltily.
She turned to see Richard’s hand extended toward her.
“Let’s head back.”
“Oh.”
She placed her small hand in his, letting him pull her along.
A sly smile curved her lips.
Heh!
This fool doesn’t know I’m smacking him with my tail in my head.
Back at the campfire, Richard admonished her not to wander, to call for help if goblins appeared.
“They’re dangerous,” he warned, “don’t underestimate them.”
Then he set to work, deftly butchering a plump sheep for her—gutted, skinned, and rinsed in the stream.
Every so often, he glanced at Aurina.
The red-haired girl had already forgotten her earlier pique.
She played alone, lively as a cat, batting a fist-sized stone with her tail, chasing it as it rolled through the dust.
Her bare feet danced through the dirt, yet remained pristine.
Catching up to the stone, she smashed it to powder with a gleeful tail-swipe, her face alight with a cherubic smile.
“What an adorable child,” Richard mused.
“I hope Sophia and I have one just as healthy and spirited someday.”
He worked harder, thinking it good practice for future fatherhood.
Unseen, Aurina stomped a pebble, grinding it underfoot.
“Grahaha! How’s it feel to be pulverized, Richard?” she muttered.
“Fools like you were born to be crushed by my world-shaking genius!”
The stone sank into the earth, leaving a gouge.
Bored of “shattered Richard,” she sought another rock for her game of dragon-tail-smash and claw-grind.
Until Richard called:
“Aurina, dinner’s ready!”
She abandoned her half-crushed pebble and bounded toward the roasted sheep.
“Coming!”
The white-skirted, red-haired girl dove into the meat, heedless of the still-sizzling fire beneath.
She tore into it with her hands, cheeks bulging as she crunched through bone, looking for all the world like a greedy hamster.
“Slow down,” Richard said.
“No one’s stealing it.”
“I’m… already slow,” Aurina mumbled, swallowing.
Her resentment toward Richard fueled her appetite, each bite a step toward vengeance.
Eat, eat, eat—eat him into poverty, grow stronger, avenge herself sooner… and oh, it was delicious.
She licked her fingers clean, spat a tiny flame to “wash” them, then stretched with a yawn.
Dragging out the old coin pouch Richard had given her, she spilled its coins onto a flat stone, curled up atop them, and fell asleep.
In her slumber, the earth seemed to sway.
Groggy, she cracked open her eyes, finding herself clutching an iron helmet, her legs tangled around… something.
Or rather, someone.
Sunlight stung her face.
Ugh, morning already?
Peering down, she saw Richard trudging along, dutifully carrying her.
What a good pack-beast.
“Idiot,” she mumbled, then drifted back into her nap.
Two days later, the sheep bleated in fear, huddling together.
Of the once-large flock, only four remained.
Richard sighed.
Who’d have thought an eight-day supply would dwindle to four sheep by day four?
Aurina loved his cooking—eating, sleeping, then bouncing about with endless energy, stirring up trouble.
Plans had to change.
He needed work to afford her meals.
Hunger might drive Aurina to her wicked instincts, and he couldn’t let her starve… or eat goblins.
She was just a child.
Dragons, he thought ruefully, eat so much.
Aurina gulped her last bite, washing it down with water to quell the sheep meat threatening to rise.
Catching Richard’s sigh, she grinned wickedly.
This was the price of crossing the greatest red dragon.
“You’ve been smiling a lot lately,” Richard noted.
“Grahaha!”
Aurina cackled.
“Just thinking of something fun.”
“Alright, let’s move. But today’s different—we’re heading to town.”
Aurina flung her arms wide.
“Come carry me!”
“No, you need to get used to walking.”
“Carry meeee,” she whined, softening her tone.
“I’m full, and I’m just a little girl.”
“Last time,” Richard relented, donning his helmet and hoisting her onto his back.
Poor, dutiful Richard didn’t notice the triumphant smirk on Aurina’s face.
Her “little girl” spell worked like a charm.
Truly, she was the wisest of red dragon kings.
Sprawled across his back, her soft belly pressed against his steady frame, she thought, This back was made for carrying me.
His gentle swaying lulled her like a cradle—a luxury she’d never known.
Red dragons didn’t coddle their young; hatchlings fended for themselves, scrapping for scraps of meat.
Soon, she was dreaming, soaring with mighty wings, all creation trembling beneath her.
Ten-time red dragon champion, king of kings.
Vague voices stirred her—strange, insect-like chatter.
She ignored them, chasing her dream.
But snippets broke through:
“…kid, adventuring with a brat? Go back to herding sheep…”
“…parading with a weapon and helmet, gambling with your life and hers…”
Aurina’s eyes fluttered open, ready to glare at the fools daring to mock her.
A hood obscured her vision—Richard’s cloak, draped over her.
By the time she pushed it back, the speakers had vanished.
The dim light revealed a tavern, its stingy owner sparing no candles.
Sunlight filtered through a small window, illuminating a packed dirt floor.
A few armed humans lounged, legs propped on tables.
“Hello, are you an adventurer?” a small voice asked.
Aurina glanced down.
A girl in a patched red hood tugged at Richard’s sleeve.
“Part-time,” Richard replied. “I trade my strength for coin, so long as it aligns with basic decency.”
“Perfect!” the girl said, voice trembling.
“My lady’s been taken by goblins. Please save her. Her family’s wealthy—they’ll reward you handsomely…”
Laughter erupted from a nearby table.
A pockmarked man mimicked her in a shrill falsetto: “Lots and lots of money!”
Another chuckled.
“What’s next? Is this lady prettier than a princess?”
The red-hooded girl pressed on, flushed.
“My lady’s beautiful, and her family will be so grateful. You’ll never need to wander again…”
Aurina perked up.
“So, your lady’s like a little princess?”
The girl nodded.
“Yes, her family’s rich, just… they’re away now. I escaped, but I’ve no money. It’s true, I swear!”
The laughter grew, some adventurers nudging others to join the spectacle.
Richard nodded.
“I’ll take the job, as long as it doesn’t cross my principles.”
“Your milk, kid,” the bald bartender grunted, sliding a cup across.
Stifled snickers followed.
Richard handed the milk to Aurina, who downed it in one gulp.
The bartender wiped a wooden mug.
“Think it over, lad. Goblins here are bad news—even the lord’s taken losses trying to clear them out.”
“Thanks for the warning,” Richard said, returning the empty cup.
“If it gets hairy, I’ll pull back.”
The bartender shook his head, taking the mug.