“Heresy?”
“No, it’s heathenism.”
Sophia suddenly became fervent: “We must let the Lord’s mercy reach all those in need of help.”
“Just like that.”
Aurina jumped onto the windowsill, pointing far toward the purple onion-domed roof of the imperial palace, “Listen to my command! Dragon-slaying team, depart!”
Aurina was full of spirit.
The former dragon-slaying team now working for a dragon under a dragon’s orders—what could better showcase this king’s astonishing wisdom?
Right beneath the purple onion-domed roof that Aurina’s finger pointed to.
The Emperor of the Yanting Empire wore a heavy crown, his gorgeous robes gleaming brightly.
His body was spotlessly clean, skin so delicate it seemed it would break at a poke.
That was the merit of the bath attendant—not a single flake of dead skin escaped those large hands into the warm water.
Before him lay a thick contract.
The Emperor of the Yanting Empire felt its thickness with his fingers.
This was far thicker than the contracts he had torn before—the difference between a book and toilet paper.
He looked up at Frostsilver across the table: “Such a thick contract—are you worried I’ll tear it up?”
Frostsilver recalled what her advisor had said before departure: ‘My lady, your noble aura often wounds others. For allies, you may need to slightly restrain your innate nobility. I’ve prepared some lines for you; I hope you’ll memorize them.’
Frostsilver recited one: “Back then, Richard and I signed a contract just as thick with you. Afterward, after slaying the dragon, you not only gained extra income and a share of the dragon hoard spoils, but he also owed you fifty thousand gold coins in debt.”
The Emperor of the Yanting Empire tapped the table with the ring on his finger: “You mean I sold my dead daughter for a good price?”
“Kafiya.”
Frostsilver said directly: “Your daughter is still growing up safely in your harem. Back then, the Dread Dragon did not take her away.”
The tapping stopped.
The Emperor of the Yanting Empire stared straight at Frostsilver.
Frostsilver smiled: “Think about it—this time, signing such a thick contract again will surely continue the previous victory. And you can feel secure with me as an ally. In the future, I believe you will certainly need the help of a dragon studies master.”
Her advisor had told Frostsilver that this line was mainly to make the Emperor feel he was the beneficiary.
The Emperor of the Yanting Empire: “But in court, you failed.”
Frostsilver suppressed her anger: “But I know you—you are a reasonable monarch. You know I performed the best. Unfortunately, you can’t lure a sleeping dragon into a trap. And only I can prevent the dragon from flying out of the city walls to catch her.”
The Emperor of the Yanting Empire: “You underestimate the talents of the Yanting Empire’s emperor.”
“Do you trust them?”
Frostsilver said: “Or do you trust a dragon-vein sorceress born awakened to space-related magic more?”
A smile appeared on the Emperor’s face: “I trust you, beautiful countess.”
Frostsilver extended her hand, introducing the contract as if presenting it: “Then please take a good look—this contract ensures the interests of both sides.”
The Emperor of the Yanting Empire waved his hand: “I trust you. Seal it with wax.”
With that, he directly opened the contract.
A servant beside him melted wax with candle flame, dripping a spoonful of red wax onto the paper.
The Emperor pressed his heraldic ring directly onto it, imprinting the seal.
The servant then handed over a knife.
In front of Frostsilver, with a man’s competitive spirit, the Emperor forcefully drew the sharp knife across his palm.
Blood gushed from his palm, dripping onto the contract.
Countless flea-like tiny mouths opened on the contract’s surface, sucking and devouring his blood.
Soon, the entire contract turned red.
Frostsilver said: “Your Majesty, you’re bleeding a bit much.”
The Emperor fantasized this scene would go down in history.
For example, Frostsilver would write in her memoirs how flattered she was by the emperor’s trust in her, praising him as the most manly and best monarch she had ever seen.
His face paled slightly: “A man is not afraid of bleeding.”
Afterward, the contract automatically duplicated into two copies, each party taking one and leaving.
As agreed, for deeper cooperation, the emperor would.
A carriage arrived, loaded with gleaming treasures.
Gold candlesticks, a crown embedded with emeralds, gold and silver coins of various sizes, all sorts of jeweled necklaces.
So many that they should have lain on soft, smooth silk for the world to admire.
Now, like rough pottery, they were tossed onto straw and hauled by cart.
“Stop.”
The carriage halted abruptly—not because it had brakes, but because magical power stopped it.
These treasures were unlike ordinary ones; every gold coin gleamed, as if light flowed across their surfaces.
Even the most skilled craftsman polishing each coin meticulously couldn’t achieve this.
Frostsilver the unicorn extended her hand, grabbing a handful of gold coins and pinching the emerald-embedded crown.
Their inherent warmth passed through her thin gloves, through her skin, into her flesh.
The cool blood flowing in her veins grew warm.
Frostsilver whispered: “The crown of the Third Elven Kingdom… it’s already been seven thousand years.”
It was her brother’s body heat—he slept atop a mountain of gold.
His magic, his body heat had warmed these treasures.
His temperature was still so fiery, making Frostsilver recall the first winter after her birth.
Back then, she was barely larger than a chicken and theoretically should have become blood food for her other siblings.
But her brother placed her under his wing, against his warm dragon belly, foraging food for her.
Frostsilver very much wanted to lie directly among these treasures right now, but not yet—she had to wait until back on her ship.
Frostsilver said: “Tell the emperor I am very satisfied with him. You may go.”
“I will convey it to His Majesty.”
Watching the servant’s retreating back, a smile curved Frostsilver’s lips.
Foolish insect—gave me the blade of the dragon-slaying sword and also my brother’s treasures.
Frostsilver stroked the contract in her hand, feeling the roughness of the paper, her face full of contemptuous smiles.
Did he really think everyone is like Richard, that stubborn fool who clings to principles?
Only such a stupid insect would foolishly shoulder fifty thousand gold coins in debt.
Only this glass-like emperor would think himself so dashing, signing a trap contract, feeling full of manly vigor?
Hmph, when mortals think, dragons laugh.
Once that brother’s bastard falls into my hands, all his relics will belong to me—and he will too.
Frostsilver turned and left, in a pleasant mood. Her failure was only in some unimportant places.
Thinking of those who mocked her, the dragon scholar, in court, Frostsilver murmured to herself:
“The one who laughs last is the winner.”
“Hehehe, hehehe.”
Aurina laughed: “Stupid, Richard stupid. Still doing little insect rituals, little insect rituals.”
A guild master asked: “What is she saying?”
Richard said: “Just draconic language.”
Young Richard’s face was tense, in sharp contrast to the Aurina on his head.
Today, representatives from all the city’s guilds had come.
The Bread and Grain Supply Guild, the Inn and Cellar Union, the Holy Icon Painters and Mosaic Craftsmen Brotherhood, the Galata Healers and Apothecaries Association, the Feather Society, and so on.
The situation grew increasingly tense—no sign of ending curfew, more noble banners drifting outside the city, more holy warriors sneaking in.
Everyone was panicking.
They came to persuade, hoping Richard could reconcile with the emperor, attend the banquet he was hosting—at least ease relations on the surface.
In their words, this was a hard-won opportunity that finally made the emperor willing to reconcile.
“He has already promised that as long as you attend the banquet, he will consider it.”
A heavily bearded guild master asked: “Dragon-slaying warrior, aren’t you supposed to bring light and peace? Yet why refuse even a banquet?”
Richard said: “We must consider the possibility that the emperor turns the banquet into a blood banquet.”
“Have you thought about it?”
Another guild master, reeking of spices, said: “The emperor extends an olive branch of goodwill, yet you throw it to the ground—isn’t that pushing the innocent people of the imperial capital into the fire pit? You call yourselves followers of a good god, yet ignore the lives of the vast innocent citizens like this?”
Richard said nothing, looking toward the Grand Master beside him.
The Grand Master of the Hand of Tyr Knight Order—his beard was also large, his build massive, like an upright-walking great bear.
He said: “We are not afraid of sacrifice, but that doesn’t mean we will trust a monarch with a spotted record and no credibility, walking into his trap.”
“Guest rights! What host would lay hands on their guests?”
Richard said: “Blood banquet.”
In history, the famous blood banquets—the “blood” came from the blood flowing from the guests’ bodies.
“Then hero, what did you come thousands of miles to the imperial capital for?”
An elderly white-bearded man slammed the table in anger: “Weren’t you here for justice and fairness? Look at what you’ve done? Angering the emperor—you just came to enjoy the hero’s fame, and now the sons and daughters of our imperial capital must bleed for your heroic games?”
Richard was momentarily speechless.
The white-bearded man grew angrier, standing up to continue.
Aurina, sitting on Richard’s shoulder, lowered her head to overlook the bearded man.
The white-bearded man felt chills in his heart.
She was clearly so cute, with large, spirited eyes, but those golden pupils staring at him made him afraid—afraid that her tiny teeth would swallow him whole, chew him up, and send him down into her belly.
The white-bearded man sat back down for the moment.
The dragon doesn’t understand—why is Richard, so strong—the little insect who could kill me—so like this in front of these weak little insects?
The Grand Master: “We will negotiate with the emperor over the banquet location and matters of weapons, to minimize the chance of a blood banquet.”
“Hypocrites!”
“Richard, your opinion?”
“I agree.”
Aurina on Richard’s head asked: “Why?”
Richard asked: “Why what?”
“We clearly won.”
Aurina said: “According to the little insect rituals, he lost. Even if he calls a bunch of little insects into the city and many die, isn’t it his doing? Why do these people come and point at your face, scolding you?”
Everyone looked at Aurina’s “innocent” face, listening to her “childlike” voice.
“Why?”
Now everyone fell silent; no one answered her—they didn’t want to explain too clearly.
“Sigh, no helping it.”
Aurina imitated Richard’s sigh, scratching her own head, then rubbing Richard’s short hair with her hand: “This king will share some astonishing wisdom with you. Who told you to be so stupid, stupid pack beast.”