Richard stared at the colossal ship before him, a behemoth of wood and sail that loomed like a slumbering giant.
“All of a sudden,” he murmured, “five thousand gold coins of debt feels utterly absurd.”
At the dock, a black-armored knight strode forward across a crimson carpet, his hulking frame resembling a bear reared upright.
His visor remained shut, and instead of a proper greeting, he merely tilted his ironclad head toward Richard.
“You’re the famed dragon-slaying hero, Richard, I presume?”
“That’s me.”
“My master wishes to see you. Follow me.”
The knight, his eyes like twin peas in a broad face, turned and led the way.
A ladder, long as a cloud-scraping spire, leaned against the ship’s side.
They ascended its red-carpeted steps, each creak of wood echoing their climb, until they stepped onto the deck.
The captain’s cabin awaited, vast as a grand hall.
Polished mahogany gleamed underfoot, while the walls bore oil paintings of past Champagne Counts and intricate tapestries woven with tales of the sea.
The portraits depicted a lineage of silver-haired women, each adorned with silver horns, their faces strikingly similar.
Above, a massive crystal chandelier cast a soft, radiant glow, bathing the room in an ethereal light.
Before meeting the Champagne Count, Richard was asked to shed his armored boots, trading them for soft slippers.
The trio then traversed a corridor adorned with opulence: its ceiling frescoed with vivid scenes of ancient maritime adventures, the walls lined with treasures—ornate picture frames, dragon-shaped reliefs, skeletal dragonbone statues, dragon-eye gems, and an antique bronze armillary sphere.
Aurina’s eyes darted greedily, her throat bobbing as she swallowed hard.
Her hand shot toward a dragon-eye gem, only for Richard’s iron grip to clamp down on her wrist.
“Gah!”
“No.”
Aurina’s voice sank, deflated. “Gahhh…”
“By the way,” Richard said, “are you sure this entire ship is worth only three thousand gold coins?”
Aurina rubbed her eyes, squinting.
“The hull alone is worth that, but now everything’s glowing. This king can only look at one thing at a time—stingy ship.”
Richard exhaled in relief.
“You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
“Why?”
“If it’s only worth three thousand, the thought of repaying the cost of nearly two such ships would stop my heart cold.”
“Oh.”
Richard chuckled.
“I was joking, you know. My heart’s not actually going to stop.”
They entered a chamber that served as both bedroom and receiving hall, its vastness carved by a carved screen that separated the sleeping quarters from the rest.
The first sight to greet them was a row of long windows, perhaps the only unadorned feature amid the lavish furnishings.
Their clear glass revealed the serene riverbank beyond.
The black-armored knight led them past the screen, where a staircase rose to the height of a single story.
Sheer silk curtains draped down, offering only a hazy glimpse of a table, the Champagne Count’s shadowed profile, and half of a grand bed.
Aurina craned her neck, peering intently.
Sunlight streamed through the windows, scattering an ethereal glow across the room, tracing the Count’s elegant silhouette.
Her features were refined, surpassing the threshold of beauty capable of bearing dragonkind, and her silver-white horn curved with a perfection that aligned precisely with draconic aesthetics—neither too thick nor too pale.
Were it not for the great Red Dragon King trapped in this frail, feminine form, Aurina would have already claimed her, bestowing the gift of a mighty dragon lineage.
The thought sapped her spirit, her shoulders slumping, tail drooping lifelessly onto the carpet.
But the sight of the room’s countless treasures reignited her fire, and she snapped upright, chest puffed with renewed vigor.
The knight removed his helm, bowing deeply.
“My lady, Richard and the dragon are here.”
His small, round eyes, set in a face broad as a platter, looked like two peas on a plate—an image far funnier than Richard’s jest.
Aurina burst into laughter.
Richard’s voice rumbled warningly from below.
“Aurina!”
She clapped a hand over her mouth, stifling the giggles, though her face still quivered with mirth.
“A knight of the Hand of Tyr,” the pea-eyed knight sneered, glaring at Aurina perched atop Richard’s head.
“Can’t even control a fledgling dragon?”
Aurina, still covering her mouth, chortled, “Pea-eyed bug, gah-gah-gah!”
Richard’s tone sharpened.
“Aurina, unless you want to write an apology essay, stop with the insulting nicknames.”
“But his eyes do look like peas!”
“As expected,” the knight said coldly.
“The Hand of Tyr is weak, incapable of teaching a beast order and discipline.”
Richard shot back, “Better than the Hellknights, obsessed with bloodied torture devices and systemic cruelty.”
From behind the silk curtain, the Champagne Count set down her silver goblet with a soft clink.
“A true dragon, though her tone is grating. Stand down, Pea-Eye.”
“Lady Frostsilver, my name—”
“Her nickname suits you better,” the Count, Frostsilver, said imperiously.
“Return to your post. That’s an order.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Pea-Eye shot a resentful glance at Aurina and Richard before retreating.
“It’s been a while, Frostsilver,” Richard said.
“Trying to cozy up?”
Frostsilver’s voice was cool.
“We’re bound by contract, nothing more. The Dread Dragon is dead, and you’ve claimed the greatest treasure in its lair. Who could’ve imagined an ostrich egg was a dragon’s, hatching the Dread Dragon’s daughter?”
Her final words struck like hailstones, chilling the air.
Despite the summer heat, Richard felt a sudden cold.
Aurina, unfazed, scanned the room, her mind racing as she appraised the value of every object, weighing each treasure against the risk of Richard’s iron-fisted reprimand.
To Frostsilver, such covetousness was akin to asking the weight of a sacred cauldron.
Behind the silk curtain, Frostsilver’s brow arched, her golden eyes flaring like molten gold.
“Gah!”
Aurina shielded her eyes.
“My true dragon eyes!”
“Aurina?”
Richard asked.
Frostsilver’s laugh was icy.
“I’ve merely blinded her temporarily. Don’t bother with your paltry healing, paladin. Your holy touch is no match for my innate magic. She’ll be blind for ten days. Pea-Eye was right—your soft-handed Tyr knights can’t teach her rules.”
“Why not talk first?”
Richard protested.
“She’s just a child!”
“You can’t teach her, so I will. Lesson one: don’t appraise another’s treasures with those greedy eyes. In a dragon’s lair, she’d already be swallowed whole.”
Aurina rubbed her reddened, teary eyes.
The spell hadn’t fully taken hold—she caught a familiar scent, weak and frail, like her sickly sister.
She patted Richard’s head.
“Richard, I can’t see anything.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll talk to Frostsilver.”
“No need. Just set me down.”
Richard hesitated, fearing Aurina would lunge for the nearest valuable and cram it into her mouth.
His hand tightened around her slender, silk-clad leg, keeping her in place.
“I’m just a child,” Aurina said, eyes closed.
“Too high up. Scary for a kid.”
“Fair point. Blinded and all,” Richard said.
“Frostsilver, how could you do this to a child?”
Frostsilver’s voice was glacial.
“If your brain still works, you’d know I’m your best ally. Do you realize the consequences of your laughable, childish justice? That noble knight could’ve died by assassination or vendetta…”
As she spoke, Aurina slipped from Richard’s grasp, her eyelids cracking open to reveal a glint of molten gold.
Her gaze locked onto a porcelain vase, its enamel depicting a dragon blotting out the sky, spewing fire upon the earth like a doomsday judgment.
Worth about one cow—fifteen gold coins.
“…but never under the creed of the God of Justice. You’re building an order to supplant secular rule. I haven’t demanded you kneel only because of your strength and our acquaintance…”
Aurina’s tail flicked, coiling around the vase and swallowing it in one gulp.
“Yelp!”
A cry rang out.
“What are you doing?”
Richard blinked.
Had the lofty, elegant Frostsilver just yelped?
“Gah?”
Aurina, eyes still shut, feigned innocence.
“What happened? I’m just a kid, blind and clueless.”
“What’s wrong, Frostsilver?”
Richard asked.
“Did you just… yelp?”
“Your ears must be dragon-scorched,” Frostsilver said, regaining her composure with a deep breath.
“That little dragon stole my porcelain with her tail. I felt it.”
“But she’s blind!”
Frostsilver refused to admit her spell’s failure.
“She must’ve memorized its place.”
“I can’t see a thing,” Aurina said, groping blindly as she shuffled forward, climbing the stairs.
“No need to convince you,” Frostsilver said coldly.
“My sources say the Imperial Knights of Yanting are mobilizing toward the Hand of Tyr’s headquarters.”
“Unless you face their court in the capital… Kneel now, and I’ll ensure this disaster is averted. As for your debt—how did you get up here?”
Richard realized Aurina had somehow scaled the stairs.
Her eyes snapped open, gleaming as they fixed on a silver flagon on Frostsilver’s table, its ruby inlay glinting.
With a leap, she became a red whirlwind, darting through the silk curtain and onto the table.
Frostsilver shot to her feet.
Aurina pounced, seizing the ruby-encrusted flagon and stuffing it into her mouth—a treasure worth two hundred thirty-two gold coins.
“Yelp!”
Frostsilver’s scream was unmistakable.
Richard felt a surge of potent magic gathering as she pointed at Aurina.
“Wait!”
Richard shouted, charging up the stairs.
“Disintegrate!”
Frostsilver’s cry was shrill, a green beam shooting from her finger, striking Aurina’s red hair.
“Gah! Hic!”
The first cry was pain; the second, a hiccup from swallowing too fast.
Richard reached the top to find Aurina’s clothes reduced to ash, her lower back exposed, tail lashing wildly.
Frostsilver’s face was a mask of frost, cold and unyielding.