“Order?”
Aurina’s voice spiked, her head tilting back slightly, as if the word itself had caught her off guard.
Ever since her latest stumble—caught at her weakest, most unguarded moment—Aurina had dialed back her arrogance, if only a touch.
Now, she leaned on her self-proclaimed unparalleled wisdom, probing for secrets from Richard’s lips with a glint of cunning in her eyes.
“Exactly,” Richard said, his tone steady.
“Order tempers power. It’s how it should be.”
“Why?”
Aurina mused, her mind racing to unravel his words.
She sifted through memories, grasping for some legendary figure named Order, but came up empty.
“Think about it from society’s perspective,” Richard began.
“If someone as powerful as me ignored order—say, by smashing down a door with a single punch—what then?
“In Nothmay City alone, at least ten thousand people have doors like that. If they knew I could disregard order and break through without a thought, those doors would cease to mean safety.”
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle.
“They’d live in fear, always worrying.Even a renowned paladin, bound by honor, could barge in against their wishes.”
“They’d pour their wealth into fortifying their doors, chasing that lost sense of security until they believed I couldn’t break through so easily.”
Aurina stifled a yawn, her interest waning.
Richard pressed on, undeterred.
“The world, at its core, is chaos.Tomorrow could bring anything—a dragon raining fire from the sky after thirty years of peace, or a simple trip to the market ending in a robbery.”
“Life is unpredictable, and that’s why people crave stability.They yearn for order, for outcomes they can trust.They want to believe that closing a door keeps intruders out, that robbers face justice.
Order is a fragile raft adrift in a chaotic sea.”
Aurina’s eyes glazed over, her focus drifting.
She imagined torching everything before her—Richard, this cluttered insect’s nest of a room, all reduced to ash.
In her mind, she spread her wings, soaring above the city.
Panicked little bugs scurried below, their chaos invigorating.
Far better, she thought, than streets clogged with gawking critters staring up at her.
“You might wonder what this means for us, the powerful,” Richard continued, oblivious to her wandering thoughts.
“We rely on society’s services. Look outside—people have fought to carve out this fragile raft of order in a chaotic world. How could we bear to shatter such a miracle? Aurina… Aurina?”
“Gah?”
Aurina snapped back, blinking.
“What was I burning again?”
“What?”
“Such a complicated spell,” she muttered, waving a hand.
“Reminds me of my silly little sister.”
“You have a sister?”
Richard asked, surprised.
Aurina backpedaled quickly.
“Not anymore.”
Richard studied her, his knack for sniffing out lies tingling, though he’d need a divine truth spell to be sure.
Still, keeping up with Aurina’s whirlwind of a mind was like chasing a storm.
“Your sister… what was she like?”
“A clumsy, weak red dragon,” Aurina said, her tone dripping with disdain.
“Had silver scale rot, even lost a horn. Pathetic. Her fire was barely warm, and she had to study books and chant spells to cast anything. Just pitiful.”
Richard chuckled.
“Is this that legendary childlike leap in logic?”
He recalled his own childhood at the orphanage, where a friend, under the matron’s gentle prodding, confessed to being tied up by a villain, tossed into the sea with a stone, only to be saved by a crab snipping the rope.
Fearing she’d said too much, Aurina added, “I’m still a child, you know.”
Richard nodded, suspecting this “sister” was a projection of Aurina’s loneliness as a solitary dragon, a yearning for family.
Pity softened his gaze.
Though both orphans, he’d been chosen by the Tyr Knights, surrounded by brothers and sisters not bound by blood.
Aurina, it seemed, had no such luck.
He cleared his throat, feeling parched.
“So, did you catch even a sliver of what I said?”
“Gah! This king gets it!”
Aurina slapped her forehead, brimming with confidence.
“Order’s stronger than your power!”
Richard sighed.
“Close enough.”
Got you!
Aurina thought, a gleeful cackle bubbling up.
She darted forward, her bare feet slapping the floor, and seized the edges of the door.
With a squat and a heave, she ripped it clean off its hinges.
“Aurina, what are you doing?”
Richard demanded.
“Gahaha!” she crowed, hoisting the door like a weapon and swinging it at him.
“You’re done, Richard! This king has mastered the weapon of order!”
Crack!
The door smacked against Richard’s unhelmeted head.
“Aurina! Put it down!”
“No way! I’ve harnessed the supreme power of order against chaos!”
She shouted, leaping into the air, raising the door high, and slamming it down toward his skull.
Richard’s fist shot up.
Boom!
The door, guardian of the inn for nearly half a century, shattered into three jagged pieces, splinters flying.
Aurina stared at the broken remnants in her hands, then up at Richard, his steel fist clenched, advancing.
“Gahaha… but order constrains power! How could you break it?”
Without a word, Richard’s fist flew.
Clang!
The blow rang like a monastery bell, her head buzzing, scalp tingling as she spun, stumbling forward, her pale soles flashing.
“I… I’m still a child!”
She wailed, collapsing onto the bed with a thud.
“Sorry,” Richard said, unfazed.
“But a fist often speaks louder.”
“Are… are you the renowned dragon-slaying hero, Richard?”
A stunned man in a neat black suit, a longsword at his waist, stood in the now-empty doorway.
“And you are?”
“I’m Lady Meliford’s loyal servant. She’s heard that the famed dragon slayer has come to Nothmay City, accompanied by a legendary dragon.”
“She’s prepared a grand, elegant banquet, joined by knights, nobles, and kind-hearted merchants.
The ladies are eager to meet you.If it suits you, we hope you’ll attend.”
“My honor,” Richard replied.
“Here’s the invitation. Tomorrow at sunset, I’ll personally drive a carriage to fetch you.”
The moment the servant left, Aurina sprang from the bed.
“That guy’s outfit was worth four gold coins, easy!
Are we heading to this lady’s house to reclaim our stashed loot?”
“It’s a dinner invitation,” Richard said.
“Not a robbery.”
“Why can’t we take stuff?”
Aurina pressed.
“We took from Black Pig Pete and that lord. Because they’re evil?”
Richard shrugged.
“What else?”
“Is that Lord Richard?”
Another voice interrupted.
A man in tight red trousers peeked cautiously inside.
“Yes?”
“Greetings, I’m a messenger. The temple sent me with a letter from your fiancée.”
“Sophia’s letter!”
Richard’s face lit up.
“Bless the heavens, it’s reached me. She must be coming here.”
Aurina’s ears twitched.
Fiancée? His mate, the one who’ll bear dragonkin for him?
She lunged toward the messenger.
“Let me see it!”
But her tail yanked her back, Richard gripping it firmly.
“Private letters aren’t for snooping, Aurina.”
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