Chapter 24 : Dragon Can’t Wait to Eat

The afternoon sun stretched Richard’s shadow long and leaned across the dirt path outside the castle, where he trudged with measured steps.

Mounted atop her loyal, dim-witted pack beast, Aurina swayed gently, a quill and paper in hand, scribbling furiously atop Richard’s iron helm, which served as her makeshift desk.

Day after day of transcribing as punishment had sparked a revelation in her brilliant mind: paper and ink were marvelous tools.

Words etched upon them could endure for ages—unlike the crude, fleeting methods of those puny insects, whose record-keeping paled beside the dragon’s art of carving truth into stone.

Yet, as a magnanimous dragon, Aurina chose to overlook such trivial flaws.

Her quill danced across the page, cataloging Richard’s vulnerabilities with glee: 

“…a mere lick of my tongue across his face turns it scarlet—his cheeks must quake before my tongue’s might! When the time comes to crush him, I’ll wield it like a lash to bring him low.”

“He suffers from a curious affliction called kindness… but how does one exploit such a malady?”

She paused, frowning.

Only two weaknesses noted, but no matter.

For a red dragon, ten-time champion of her kin, to design to study a mere insect like Richard was proof enough of her unrivaled intellect, surpassing all other dragons.

“…first, I’ll shatter his limbs, then flaunt my union with his betrothed before his eyes, birthing dragonkin to mock him. He’ll toil in my kitchens, cooking for me and my princely heirs…”

A wicked grin curled her lips as she tapped Richard’s helm through the paper, the metallic clank echoing her amusement.

Clueless fool, he suspects nothing.

A loud gurgle rumbled from her stomach.

She tucked the book away, swallowing it whole in a single gulp, but the growling persisted.

“Little insect!”

Aurina called, having just finished copying her latest penance.

“Your queen is starving. Have you anything to eat?”

“Didn’t you just eat?”

Richard replied, irritation creeping into his voice.

“And stop calling me ‘little insect.’”

“In that pathetic stone hive?”

Aurina scoffed, her complaints spilling forth like a river.

“They offered a measly pinch of insect fodder—barely enough to plug a tooth gap—then shooed us out. That man keeps a stable of useless horses but wouldn’t spare a single one for me.”

“His hospitality could’ve fed five grown men.”

“What do I care about the meager appetites of insects?”

She retorted, rapping his helm with a rhythmic thunk-thunk.

“Food. Food. I demand food!”

Her strategy to beggar her foes through gluttony was executed flawlessly.

Truly, she’d overestimated Richard, who’d once bested her.

Aurina, ever self-critical, decided her brilliance warranted a slight upward tweak in her self-regard.

“Nothing left. You’ll have to endure,” Richard said.

“Earl Senran’s vassal knight has agreed to aid us. He mentioned someone wronged by Black Boar Pete. We’re to seek them out. The code demands we pursue every lead to minimize risk.”

Aurina dismissed his words as excuses.

“You’re the mightiest little insect, are you not?”

“Even with ‘mightiest’ tacked on, it changes nothing.”

Time for a little girl’s spell, then.

A particularly potent one sprang to mind—devastatingly effective, yet its use chafed against her draconic pride.

Her observations of insect society had taught her such charms carried an odd, unseemly taint.

But hunger gnawed.

Without sustenance, she couldn’t grow larger, stronger, or grind Richard beneath her talons in glorious triumph.

The world would wait longer still for its destined red dragon king, generous sire to countless female dragonkin.

Leaning down, Aurina pried open Richard’s visor.

Her youthful, cherubic face hovered inches from his, nose nearly brushing his own, her fiery breath washing over him, laced with the musky scent of dragon saliva.

Her crimson hair cascaded like a waterfall behind her.

Richard’s breath hitched, his chest tightening—a relapse of that pitiful, contemptible ailment.

His hand darted instinctively to the holy hammer talisman at his waist.

Aurina’s voice softened, a near-perfect mimicry of a child’s plea.

“Richard, I’m so hungry. I’m just a child, you know.”

“Don’t lean so close!”

He stammered, his hand shooting up through her fiery locks to seize her dragon horn, lifting her head away.

Her silken strands draped across his face, ensnaring the paladin’s head like a net of desire.

Forged in flame, her hair was sleek and smooth, tickling his cheeks with an maddening itch.

“You seem…”

Aurina yielded to his grip, her hair falling over her face, leaving only her lower cheeks and thin, cherry lips visible.

She smirked. “…in heat?”

Her childish voice struck like a javelin, piercing his breastplate and pinning his heart to a pillar of shame.

Richard burned with humiliation.

“I’m not—” he began, but the sacred oath of honesty surged within him, clashing against his denial.

He released her horn, correcting himself.

“I am, but trust me, I’d never harm you. I—”

With a toss of her head, Aurina swept her hair back, her usual grin returning.

“Even if I’m just a scrawny thing, it’s only natural. I am a true dragon, after all. But don’t dream of tainting my noble blood with your base lineage to sire your offspring.”

“I’m sorry,” Richard said, head bowed.

“I swear I’ll never act on such vile thoughts. I’ll atone for them.”

Aurina blinked, startled.

She, the greatest red dragon whose heirs roamed the world, knew men’s desires well.

Yet she hadn’t expected a male to feel guilt over them.

“Truly?” she asked.

“I swear it.”

What a fool, she thought.

“Then feed me now,” she demanded, pointing to a distant hillside where sheep grazed like clouds fallen to earth.

“Drag me there, roast them, and let me feast!”

“We have no coin.”

“Hm? Didn’t you just promise to… what was it?”

She spat the unfamiliar word.

“…atone?”

A cry interrupted them from ahead.

“My lord! Honored lord!”

Aurina glanced up.

On the winding path to the village stood a peasant family.

The patriarch, a limping middle-aged man, wore tattered clothes patched together with scraps.

His trousers, frayed into ragged strips at the hem, were cinched with a rope belt, revealing bare, mud-caked feet.

His gaunt wife stood beside him, her grayish, threadbare skirt barely clinging to her frame.

Their daughter, a girl as thin as a monkey, hid behind her mother’s skirt, clutching it tightly, her timid eyes darting toward the man and dragon.

Richard approached.

“What’s the matter?”

The farmer hobbled forward, each step a labored effort, gripping a tattered straw hat he waved desperately.

Before Richard, clad in full plate armor, he seemed even smaller, his back hunching until he resembled a goblin.

A scrawny little insect, Aurina thought, her gaze sliding past him.

But Richard raised his visor, meeting the man’s eyes.

“Good afternoon. How may I assist you?”

The farmer’s gaze brimmed with desperation, as if the world’s weight crushed his frail shoulders.

His voice rasped, low and heavy with despair.

“Honored lord, I’m but a humble farmer, my kin bound to this land for generations. But woe upon us—Black Boar Pete came, a demon lording over us.”

“He gathers thugs to do his bidding, steals fair maidens to sell as slaves, and… and he’s saddled me with usurious debts, demanding I surrender my daughter to him.”

Tears glistened in his eyes, though he fought to hold them back.

His daughter wailed, “Papa, Mama, don’t let them take me to Black Boar Pete! Please, help us!”

“Hush,” the wife murmured, tugging her daughter close.

“Nana, don’t trouble the lord.”

“Fear not,” Richard said.

“I’ve come to bring Black Boar Pete to justice.”

The farmer glanced about, lowering his voice.

“I know a secret passage to Black Boar Pete’s underground kingdom. If you aid us, I’ll guide you there. But we must be few, lest we’re spotted.”

“The tunnel leads straight to him. With your might, once you confront him, his rabble will scatter.”

“Excellent,” Richard replied.

“I sense your truth. One issue: can you lead me there today?”

“Tomorrow,” the farmer said.

“The village is thick with his spies. If I don’t return home now, it’ll raise suspicion. Forgive me—my family needs my protection. Tomorrow, I’ll slip away to the woods and guide you. Will that do?”

Richard hesitated, but Aurina thumped his helm.

“I’m hungry.”

He sighed.

“No, time presses. Return home to avoid Black Boar Pete’s notice, and stay safe.”

The farmer persisted.

“Black Boar Pete rules these lands like a king. You’re alone with a mere girl. I’ve waited so long for a champion. I’ll risk it. Darling, what do you say?”

His wife nodded.

“No need,” Richard said.

“I have my own plan.”

“What plan?”

Aurina snapped, “I’m starving. A child’s starving!”

Richard strode off, leaving the family behind.

As the man and dragon receded, the farmer straightened, his hunched posture gone, a venomous glint in his eyes.

“Did he see through us?”

His “wife” replied, “We spoke the truth. Perhaps he’s merely wary.”

Countless adventurers had fallen to their deception.

Just this morning, they’d lured a pair into an ambush.

“That dragon is a nuisance, ruining our scheme,” the farmer growled.

“We must warn the master at once—he claims to have a way to find him.”

“It’s those meddlesome farmers causing trouble. I’ll drive them off.”

“Do you think the master can defeat a dragon-slaying hero?”

“Hmph,” the farmer sneered.

“He’s a simple-minded oaf. If things go south, we bolt.”

Word spread swiftly.

Black Boar Pete, with his trusted slaves and a host of indentured thugs, descended into the tunnels from his manor, vanishing into a hidden subterranean cavern.

Cautious to a fault, he brought every soul and scrap that knew the passage’s entrance.

His underground kingdom moved with ruthless efficiency.

Within an hour, not a trace remained aboveground of his whereabouts.

But dragons know.

Or so Richard believed.