Chapter 33 : The Height of Fame 

“The mutton’s a bit charred today, and they skimped on the spices,” Aurina remarked, lazily gnawing on a sheep bone, her tone as casual as the flick of her tail. 

Richard clutched a leg of lamb, its surface glazed with the faint, intoxicating scent of dragon’s breath spice. 

Every time the fire died down and the meat was ready, it sparked a fierce scramble. 

Though Richard was the renowned dragon-slaying hero, capable of snatching a leg from Aurina’s grasp, she always managed to outmaneuver him, giving the meat a proprietary lick before he could claim it. 

“No helping it—the caravan’s running low on spices.” 

Aurina opened her jaws, pulling out a bone stripped clean to a gleaming white and tossing it onto a pile crowned with a sheep’s skull. 

Her eyes flicked to the half-eaten leg in Richard’s hand.

“I’ve already licked that one. It’s got my saliva all over it. Want this king to finish it for you?” 

“Pass.” 

“You could just stick to the grass and oats those little bugs munch on.” 

Richard took a defiant bite.

“I do this so I can taste the fruits of my own labor.” 

Aurina’s gaze drifted to the flock of sheep nearby. 

“Baa~~” 

The herd bleated in unison, shuffling backward as if they sensed her thoughts. 

“I’m tired of mutton,” Aurina said, stretching her wings.

“Let’s switch things up. How about dung-eating pigs? Or beef?” 

“Beef’s at least two copper coins a pound,” Richard replied, wiping grease from his chin.

“Sometimes four.” 

They ate at a distance from the caravan, partly because Richard feared Aurina might accidentally harm the mortals, and partly because… well, ever since that day they’d discussed the finer points of cudgel-based theology, the others seemed to keep their distance from him. 

In the distance, the walls of Bremen City rose, framed by sprawling fields and a gentle river winding through the land. 

The next day, they followed the caravan into Bremen City. 

With the help of a lanky merchant and Aurina’s keen eye for value, they sold several cartloads of spoils at a tidy profit, distributing the earnings among the freed slaves. 

Even before the last of the loot was sold, their reputation spread like wildfire through this free city, unbound by any lord’s rule. 

Bards flooded in from every tavern, hounding the freed slaves for tales of Richard and the red dragon who’d saved them. 

Meanwhile, Richard sought out the city’s temple, finding a priest devoted to the God of Justice. 

He handed over a detailed account of their deeds, hoping it would reach the headquarters of the Knights of Tyr. 

It wasn’t long before the most renowned cleric from the local monastery came knocking, eager to hear Richard’s tale of adventure. 

After listening, the cleric showered him with praise, declaring it a story to delight any follower of a benevolent god. 

Even a red dragon, born of malevolent instinct, could be swayed by Richard’s righteous heart. 

Richard shook his head.

“Swayed? She’s still a long way from that.” 

But his words didn’t stop the monastery’s bald, nearsighted scribes—men who spent half their days copying texts—from feverishly scribbling. 

With quills flying, they cast Richard as a warrior of the God of Justice, his faith so potent that even a wicked young dragon followed him, bearing him into battle. 

Together, they’d vanquished the minions of an evil god—Black Boar Pete—and toppled a corrupt local lord in one fell swoop. 

In the bards’ songs, Black Boar Pete and the knightly lord merged into a single grotesque figure: a pig-headed beast who walked upright, using his vile charisma and possibly enchanted organs to seduce and ruin women—and even comely young boys. 

Richard, in their tales, became a roguish knight, a rose clenched in his teeth, carefree and daring. 

At his side was the daughter of the Dread Dragon, a creature who’d fallen for him and helped slay her own father. 

Aurina, somehow, was now a red dragon princess. 

Their fame spread from tavern to tavern, eventually reaching the perfumed parlors of the nobility. 

In an elegant drawing room, a cluster of finely dressed noblewomen sat, delicate teacups in hand, their voices buzzing with excitement. 

“Have you heard of Richard, the dragon-slayer?” 

“The one who drowned a princess in a dragon’s latrine?” 

“He’s here! And he’s got a young dragon with him—supposedly the daughter of the beast he killed.” 

“I’ve heard of him! He and his dragon freed all the slaves from that wretched slaver. They say one glance from that pig-headed fiend, and women would tear off their clothes and follow him home to… you know.” 

“Disgusting.” 

“I heard a sorceress was charmed mid-battle and stabbed her own husband in the back.” 

“But that monstrous slaver? Richard and his dragon took him down in a single day and strung him up on the gallows.” 

“He’s a true knight—brave, generous, noble. He even gave his own coin to settle the freed slaves comfortably.” 

“Does he have a betrothed?” 

“Oh, yes. He fights for his sweetheart back home, or so he says.” 

“Such a pity.” 

The inn was a hive of activity, as it had been for days. 

“Can’t sleep,” Aurina grumbled, rising from her bed.

“It’s too damn noisy.” 

She flung open the wooden shutters, only to find the street below teeming with people—little bugs, as she called them. 

Every pair of eyes turned to her.

Someone pointed, shouting, “Look! It’s the red dragon princess!” 

The crowd erupted, hands waving, voices clamoring for her attention. 

Snap! 

Aurina slammed the shutters closed, her expression flat. 

“Terrifying. My crowd-phobia acting up,” she muttered.

“Good thing I shut that fast, or I might’ve loosed a firestorm. Then Richard’s precious beast of burden would’ve had to spank me. Hah, I’m too clever for that.” 

Princess?

Since when was she a princess? 

Did she really look like some high-value female? 

These little bugs and their imaginations. 

Only a few could see the raw, untamed majesty of her true self. 

Knock, knock, knock. 

“Who’s there?” 

“It’s me, Richard. Open the door.” 

“No way. Richard told me not to leave this room or let anyone in.” 

“I am Richard.” 

“I know it’s you,” Aurina said, hastily stuffing his rummaged-through backpack back into order. 

She’d made a mess of it again and couldn’t be bothered to tidy it properly. 

“Then open the door. I’m not ‘anyone.’” 

“I’m a good, obedient kid, you know.” 

A sigh came from the other side.

“Open the door, Aurina. I don’t want to climb through the window.” 

“Then beg this king to let you in.” 

“Stop joking.” 

“You taught me to keep my word,” she said, smoothing the wrinkles from the bedsheets and setting the backpack neatly on top. 

Silence lingered outside.

Aurina half-expected him to smash the door down. 

“Fine, I was wrong. Please, let me in.” 

Aurina swung the door open.

“Since the little bug champion begs this king’s mercy, I’ll allow it.” 

She stepped back warily, eyeing him in case he tried to swat her head. 

“Champion?”

Richard said, his voice calm.

“When did I become a champion?” 

“The red dragon champion is praised by hordes of dragons,” Aurina explained.

“You’re swarmed by little bugs, so you’re their champion.” 

“Calling me a ‘little bug champion’ doesn’t exactly sound like praise,” Richard said, closing the flimsy door behind him. 

“Praise? I’m just stating facts,” Aurina said, tilting her head.

“You’re the strongest little bug, after all.” 

“The strongest human? I’m not quite there yet.” 

“You are the strongest,” she insisted.

“You defeated the Dread Dragon, the king of red dragons, for now. That makes you the best. All those other bugs claiming to be the strongest? Fakes. Not worth mentioning.” 

“Sometimes your compliments actually hit the mark.” 

“I’m just telling the truth.” 

“That’s why they work.” 

Aurina didn’t get it. She glanced at the thin door.

“Why’d you beg me, anyway?” 

“Hm?”

Richard sat down.

“Because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t get in.” 

“But with your strength, you could’ve just smashed the door down,” she said.

“Even if you had to pay for it—” 

Aurina grimaced. She hated the word “compensation.” 

Richard had forced her to learn it, to say it. What a pain. 

“You wouldn’t even have to pay,” she added.

“The inn’s little bugs wouldn’t dare ask you to. I can tell.” 

“Sure, I’ve got the strength,” Richard said.

“One punch, and this door would be splinters. But something you can’t see holds my strength in check.” 

Aurina’s eyes lit up. A weakness?

“What is it?” 

“Order.”