Chapter 43 : The Dragon Breaks the Branch

“It’s an ambush!”

Aurina’s spirit surged with excitement.

In a flash, she grabbed Richard’s calf, clambering up his frame with the agility of a cat, only to perch lightly on his shoulder.

Her legs clamped around him as if she were a knight mounting a steed.

Pointing at the white-clad figure of Frostsilver, the Unicorn, she cried, “Quick! Hit her with your Holy Slash! We’ll split the loot nine-to-one!”

Richard, nerves taut, aimed his sword at Frostsilver.

“It’s useless,” Frostsilver said, her voice cold as winter’s breath.

“The moment you swing, I’ll teleport away. Then I’ll just stand back, arms crossed, watching through my arcane sight as you’re swarmed and beaten to death. And you?”

“You’ll die branded a fool, accused of attempting to assassinate a countess and plunder her wealth. They won’t even let your bones rest in the sacred crypt of Tyr’s Hand.”

As Richard’s former comrade, Frostsilver knew his weaknesses all too well—crowd fights were his Achilles’ heel.

Blessed by divine gifts, armored in faith, he was as unyielding as a steel pea.

But for all his toughness, he lacked any real area-of-effect attacks.

His only semblance of one was a broad sweep of his greatsword, and even then, a reckless enemy could jam their body against the blade, stalling him.

Give him a horde of goblins, and he’d be hacking away all day.

“Come on, come on!”

Aurina smacked Richard’s head, pointing at Frostsilver.

“Don’t waste time talking—strike already! So many enemies, this king will roast them all with fire! Even if we can’t win, I’ll munch on my treasures while fighting.”

“We grab the loot and run, just like last time. Since I’m doing most of the work, how about I take ninety-five percent?”

Richard gripped his sword tighter.

“Funny how your math gets sharp when it’s about loot!”

“Think of the consequences,” Frostsilver warned.

“Right now, I have the upper hand. Lay down your weapon, and I’ll show mercy, for old times’ sake as teammates.”

“Why waste words? Rob her! Rob her!”

Aurina urged, her voice brimming with glee.

“She’s practically radiating weakness—her treasures are ours for the taking!”

“Silence!”

Frostsilver snapped.

Her golden eyes narrowed, and Richard felt a chill pierce his chest, sharp as an icicle.

The clamor of the black-armored knights, who had been knocking over furniture in their rowdy chaos, quieted by half.

Frostsilver’s voice was glacial.

“You insolent little dragon! Do you have any idea what you’re inviting? Anger me, and even if you escape, I’ll turn my aid to the Emperor of the Yanting Empire. You’ll end up a fat-bellied little worm, chained as a mount, tamed with whips and iron hooks.”

Richard knew she was wasting her breath.

Aurina never listened.

“Richard!”

Aurina, predictably, ignored every word.

“Get moving! I’m just a kid—don’t make me do it myself!”

“Silence!”

Frostsilver’s voice thundered.

“Before the ancient and noble House of Doremifasolasidistarianos, you are nothing—”

Aurina blinked, finally catching a fragment of the tirade.

“Do, re, mi, fa, sol, la, si?”

“It’s not about musical notes!”

Aurina grinned, shaking her head and letting out a melodic hum.

“Doremifasolasi, I see treasure in weak hands. A grab, a gulp, it’s all mine. The weak cry and sing, do, re, mi, fa, sol, la, si.”

She’d spun a nursery rhyme on the spot.

Despite the questionable morals of the lyrics, Richard found the tune catchy.

If a bard sang it, he’d toss them a silver coin.

“Aaahhh!”

Frostsilver’s composure shattered, her proud head thrown back in a scream.

Richard could see her tongue trembling in the sonic wave of her outburst.

In mere minutes, Frostsilver had lost her cool more times than in their entire year of adventuring together.

Aurina had a peculiar magic, effortlessly melting through Frostsilver’s icy facade.

And not just melting—Frostsilver was boiling, her porcelain-pale skin flushing crimson, save for the silver unicorn horn jutting from her silver hair.

She looked like a tomato sprouting white locks with a branch stabbed through it.

“I’ll kill you!”

Frostsilver roared.

The black-armored knights erupted into a cacophony, their clamor rivaling a bustling marketplace.

Richard’s sword glowed with searing white light, illuminating the already bright room even further.

“Stay back, or I’ll unleash the Holy Slash!”

Frostsilver raised a finger, and a bubble of air shimmered around her, muffling Aurina’s mocking song.

“Think carefully. We could have negotiated peacefully.”

“You’re the one who broke the peace,” Richard shot back.

Frostsilver read his lips.

“She’s the one who broke the cup.”

“And you’re the one who set up an ambush of axemen.”

“Get out,” Frostsilver hissed.

“You lucky fool, take your dragon and leave my ship. You’ll regret this.”

Richard glanced at the black-armored knights, packed together like commuters in a morning subway.

“I don’t trust you.”

“I’ve never gone back on my word.”

“But you clearly planned to use force to take what’s mine,” Richard said. “And the dragon isn’t mine.”

“I swear,” Frostsilver said, taking a deep breath.

“Tell them to leave.”

“Fine.”

Frostsilver clapped her hands.

“The portal’s at the end of the corridor.”

Like a market dispersing, the bedroom’s chaos spilled into the hallway, where the knights’ murmurs and debates echoed back.

It was a veritable bazaar of noise.

Once they were gone, the once-elegant bedroom looked ransacked, its contents strewn about in disarray.

Frostsilver closed her eyes, drawing several deep breaths.

“I never want to see you again.”

No sooner had she spoken than she opened her eyes to see Richard already descending the stairs, slipping past a screen.

One hand clutched Aurina’s white-stockinged leg to keep her “appetite” from devouring everything in sight.

Frostsilver stood alone, motionless for a long moment.

Then, with a snap of her fingers, a branch as thick as an arm appeared.

Grasping both ends, she smashed it over her knee, snapping it in two, venting her fury.

How she longed to skin that insolent dragon, to wear her hide as a fur cloak, occasionally brushing her fingers over it to recall her infuriating “song.”

With that thought, Frostsilver summoned invisible servants to tidy the wrecked room.

She approached a mirror and spoke, “Mirror, mirror, tell me true—what of the dragon eggs?”

The mirror shimmered, revealing several eggs locked in an adamantine cage.

“No movement, as ever,” it replied.

“Dead eggs, no doubt,” Frostsilver muttered, crushing Aurina’s last shred of hope.

“That fool of a brother—did he forget to secure the reincarnation egg? No, impossible, even for an idiot like him… Or did he hide it somewhere I haven’t found?”

For the thousand-and-first time, Frostsilver’s vaunted logic spun into action, mapping out every possible hiding place for Obsidian, the Dread Dragon’s eggs.

“No, there must be something I’ve missed. Even the wisest can be fooled by a fool.”

Could it be that ostrich egg?

Strange, indeed.

Though identified as an ostrich egg, it had hatched a red dragon.

A lesser scholar might find it bizarre, but Frostsilver, with her vast knowledge, knew better.

She’d seen similar cases—dragon magic could influence creatures in their lairs, so an ostrich egg birthing a red dragon wasn’t impossible.

Who would use an ostrich egg as a reincarnation vessel?

What if it failed?

It defied all logic.

Hmph. He must have used that dim-witted brain of his to hide it somewhere beyond her calculations.

Frostsilver pondered and calculated, weighing her options.

Whether using Aurina to revive the Dread Dragon Obsidian—that infuriating beast best locked away—or tapping her bloodline to track him down.

“Calm, calm,” she told herself.

“She’s important.”

But the thought of Aurina reignited her anger.

How could a dragon so perfectly inherit her father’s maddening traits?

She was like a child version of her brother, practically begging to be throttled.

Frostsilver had hidden her noble family name in the mortal world to keep her brother from mocking her with some absurd scheme.

Yet, she hadn’t accounted for his daughter.

That damned song echoed in her ears again, its catchy melody impossible to shake.

With another snap, Frostsilver summoned a dry branch, raised her knee, and cracked it in two.

After snapping ten more, her flush faded, and she returned to her cold, regal self.