Chapter 82: A Treasure Never Before Seen

The swordfish had a large, forked tail fin.

Tied with brown rope at its lower end, it hung suspended, displaying its sleek, streamlined body.

Its side fins and triangular dorsal fin, paired with its long, powerful form, gave the illusion that even though it was dead and motionless, if tossed into a puddle, it would whoosh into the air, its sword-like snout piercing someone and diving into the sea.

For a moment, Aurina admired the beauty of the creature, her tail swishing.

Carrying Aurina on his shoulders, Richard approached the crowd.

Aurina loudly declared, “It’s mine!”

Her voice seemed to carry a magical quality.

Amid the bustling street and haggling crowd, everyone turned to look at her.

Including the fisherman beside the swordfish.

The fisherman was an old man wearing a straw hat, with white whiskers and a lean, dark frame.

A scar ran under his eye, and his beard was matted with dried blood.

His shoulder bore a hole, marked with blood from a hook’s strain.

Compared to the five-meter-long swordfish, the old fisherman’s frail body seemed but a fraction of its broad back.

For a moment, Richard felt the disparity was like that between man and dragon.

“Well done, quite a catch. Must’ve been quite a fight,” Richard said. “I’d like to buy this swordfish.”

“Two days, two nights,” the fisherman said with a smile. “Alright, knight, bringing your little sister out to play? I can sell you fifty pounds, cut from this big guy’s belly.”

Someone shouted discontentedly, “Hey, old man, didn’t you say everyone could only buy fifty pounds?”

“I changed my mind.”

While fending off a red-skinned half-demon pickpocket, Richard asked Aurina, “Is that enough?”

“The whole fish is mine,” Aurina said, gesturing at the swordfish, which was about three times her height.

“We can’t preserve that much swordfish.”

“You dare underestimate this king?” Aurina said. “I can eat it all.”

Richard turned to the fisherman. “How much for the whole swordfish?”

The fisherman glanced at him, then at the horned Aurina, and suddenly burst into laughter, joined by the surrounding crowd.

“Not for sale. At most, I’ll give you three hundred pounds,” the fisherman said. 

“Such a fine, big fish—how many could it feed? It’s a worthy opponent, outsider. I won’t let its meat be wasted or thrown to beasts for maggots to burrow into.”

“No need to worry,” Richard said.

“Because the one on my shoulder is a dragon.”

Aurina emphasized, “A true dragon!”

The crowd’s eyes scanned Aurina and Richard—some smiling, some hesitant, some speculative.

“Don’t jest, Sir Knight,” the fisherman chuckled.

“Who in the capital hasn’t seen a dragon?”

“Yeah, that year the Dread Dragon flew over this dock, big as a mountain.”

“What dragon looks like a human?”

Aurina would’ve bet she’d never flown over this dock.

How could she miss a market with such a variety of foods?

Richard said, “No, she’s a dragon, and she’s the Dread Dragon’s daughter.”

His voice was firm, carrying a trustworthy conviction.

“Gah.” Aurina crossed her arms, looking down at the stunned crowd.

The fisherman’s tone grew excited. “Then you’re the dragon-slaying hero Richard?”

“Yes,” Richard said. “I need to feed her.”

The crowd buzzed, unable to connect Aurina with the legend of a cow-devouring, upright-walking lizard.

“Damn it,” the fisherman shouted. 

“Damn it, I wanted more people to taste my fish and know I caught a big one. But compared to slaying a mountain-sized dragon, that’s nothing. I’ll sell it to you, one copper per pound. Just tell anyone who asks, great dragon-slaying hero, where you got this fish—say it’s from a fisherman named Santiago!”

“Deal!”

The swordfish weighed twelve hundred pounds.

Richard paid twelve gold coins on the spot and released Aurina’s ankle.

Aurina leapt from his shoulder, soaring to wrap her arms around the swordfish’s streamlined body, licking it and pressing her forehead against it. “It’s mine now.”

Just imagining eating it, her mouth watered uncontrollably.

Eat what she wanted—her jaws opened, revealing shark-like, porcelain-white teeth, sparks rising in her throat as she prepared to breathe fire.

But then she thought, If I’m going to cook it, why not let Richard do it?

So, unlike her usual habit of eating raw or “cooked” food, she turned and asked, “Richard, cook it for me.”

“Sure,” Richard said, pointing to the dazzling dock market behind. 

“What flavor do you want? We’ll buy it, and I’ll cook.”

Aurina ignored the word “buy”—it didn’t exist in her dictionary.

Ever since Richard, that dumb beast of burden, pried gold coins from her claws while dressing her, she’d swallowed her coins.

No one could steal the gold in her stomach.

“Gah!” 

Aurina let out a gleeful sound, hopping back onto Richard’s shoulder.

Richard hired a cart, and amid the crowd’s gasps, he hefted the six-hundred-kilogram swordfish onto it.

It was so long he had to use his greatsword to cut it in half to fit.

Then, carrying Aurina, he ventured into the market.

“Get some grapes!” 

Aurina pointed at purple grapes, shouting, “And blue conches, and that—it’ll taste great with that!”

Pointing, a bug handed over a pack of cinnamon.

She tasted it—sweet—and could already envision grape-flavored swordfish.

“That’s the one.”

Aurina opened her mouth wide, tossing it in.

Her beast of burden didn’t yell for her to hand over gold to other bugs but paid obediently.

Aurina tilted her head, staring with a grin.

Given up resisting? 

Gah gah, even the strongest bug is just a bug.

“Gah gah gah.” 

She laughed, her tail pointing at the cinnamon. 

“More of that!”

“That!”

“That! All mine!”

Exotic goods from distant lands dazzled her.

Aurina took a deep, delighted breath, choosing her favorites by scent.

“That!”

Her tail snatched a passing orange cat, which yowled, “Meow!”

“So cute, so fluffy, like a dragon,” Aurina said, grabbing it with both hands, her golden eyes fixed on it as it trembled. “Must be delicious.”

“No, that’s not a spice—put it down!”

As Aurina pointed with feet, tail, and hands, the cart filled with liquor, soy sauce, fish sauce, chocolate, nutmeg, mushroom essence, elf ears, lemons, rosemary, thyme, coconut milk, parsley, and more.

Aurina no longer sat on her strongest bug throne but lay on the cart’s mountain of goods.

The mingled scents of spices and food filled her nose as she relaxed, chin raised proudly, looking down at the bugs around.

So comfy, like lying on my old treasure hoard.

“Good job, beast of burden,” Aurina said, lightly kicking Richard’s head with her foot.

Richard sat on the cart, amidst her treasure pile. 

“This king permits you to lie with me on my treasure hoard.”

Richard didn’t hesitate, grabbing her ankle.

Aurina, too slow to pull away, was yanked from her “throne,” sliding off the hoard to land beside him.

“Gah gah gah.” 

Aurina laughed gleefully, looking at Richard in his armor. 

“How’d you know about this treasure place? This king never found it before.”

“Asked around,” Richard said. 

“How’s it feel?”

“I’ve never had so many little, yummy… treasures.”

“Now you do,” Richard said. “When you grow up, there’ll be more.”

Aurina looked at the armored bug, bursting into laughter. 

“Gah gah gah gah.”

She’d seen bugs in beast hides, holding sharp stones.

Back then, she only bothered with long-eared bugs, the ones with auto-growing gold treasuries.

But after all those years…

Aurina spread her arms, measuring the “treasure pile” behind her.

She’d never owned a hoard like this.

Thinking back, she hadn’t flown over this dock market.

Her gaze had swept over it from the sky, appraising it.

Compared to the Emperor’s treasury, it wasn’t “high value.”

But many treasures couldn’t be found by value alone.

Her eyes had passed over the treasure but missed it.

Recalling market-related memories, she saw panicked bugs fleeing as fire consumed everything.

Without Richard’s guidance, even if she’d come here, nine-tenths of this hoard would be gone.

She’d never considered handling food like bugs did—green snacks like trolls, orcs, or goblins, whose guts and filth she couldn’t be bothered to clean.

Her go-to spice was fire: if it didn’t taste good, burn it.

Still bad? Burn it again.

Even the worst food became edible as charcoal.

Aurina had discovered this as a hatchling.

Once, her mother returned without food—maybe she ate it en route or forgot her offspring.

When her towering figure appeared at the valley’s edge, Aurina and her sister led their followers, dominating a high spot despite their older siblings’ oppression, where their mother could see and deliver food first.

With Aurina’s “gah,” all the dragons behind her stretched their necks, mouths wide, toward their bloated mother.

Even the weaklings at the back, with broken claws or tails, wailed and stretched.

Their mother burped, spewing sticky “food.”

Aurina couldn’t dodge, scalded by stomach acid, screaming.

The “food” tasted awful; she spat it out after one bite.

Burning it black, it became crispy and edible.

Everyone copied the naturally great red dragon Aurina, using fire to season food.

Her sister could only manage one puff before running out, so Aurina helped burn hers.

That was one of her countless shining moments.

From then on, her approach to food was simple: dragon breath—one puff if not enough, two if needed, or burn it to charcoal.

Looking at Richard, Aurina said, “You’re a good bug.”

“Don’t call me a bug, thanks.”

“This king hasn’t figured out that social service thing you mentioned,” Aurina said, biting a grape bunch clean off its stem. “But it’s really edible.”