Trapped in Another World With No Magic

The walls creak and fires burn nearby. Not many can take a direct hit from a focused explosion spell carried by a lightning arc. Neith managed to dive in front of the first spell to protect the Grand Duchess, but the concussive blast still managed to put him on his knees and knock the four knights and the matriarch herself to the ground. 

The grey dragon in humanoid form breathed tainted fire in a wide arc, creating a smoke screen until he could deploy Daniel’s smoke grenades, which create thick, obscuring white smoke much longer than the venom-choked flames of his ignityal.

One of the sources of magic that he’s sensing flees, but he can tell they are far from safe. 

Neith quickly kicks one of the knight’s swords up to his own hand, wasting no time in gripping the blade as a knife-thrower would a perfectly weighted instrument. He launches it forward with supersonic force, and he can feel the blade wobble and strain in resistance to the might of his true strength. The blade cuts through the air in a wheel-like spin, and a moment later, there is a terrible crash, followed by the mana of the attacker fading.

Unfortunately, the same kind of attack can work against him, and Neith scoops Aramellianna up and leaps clear of another incoming magical attack. 

A barrage of explosions rip apart the buildings and the cobblestones of the street.

This isn’t going to work, thinks the dragon to himself. 

He doesn’t want to leave the knights or their captured quarry behind, but he knows there will be serious consequences if he does what he’s thinking.

He can flee with Aramellianna, and the losses will be minimal. However, he is a knight of the Fievegal. He may not be as honorable as Daniel tends to be, but he is not so honorless as to leave allies behind.

Neith makes the decision quickly, and he keeps the unconscious Grand Duchess close as he chants. He is lightly wounded, which only makes things easier.

Transforming into his true form is easy for a powerful dragon.

Transforming into an unstoppable killing machine requires a different kind of magic.

Neith’s droplets of blood suspend in the air as he chants, and power passes through them and supercharges his spell.

Black smoke-like auras swirl in around Neith and the Grand Duchess, and he is mindful of her presence through every bit of the transformation as he erupts from the smoke almost fifteen times larger than he was in the form of a metallic grey beast with leathery wings, armor plates for scales, and a crown of broken horns. Neith bellows a terrifying roar, and he can feel some of the structures rattle and crumble under foot.

I’ll confess to my Liege later and try to sort it out peacefully. I don’t know if I can pay for all of this, but…

The humongous dragon encloses the Grand Duchess in his massive claw, protecting her from incoming harm. He then tries something new that he hasn’t experimented much with.

He takes a deep breath and exhales, as if to breathe fire. In place of ignityal, however, he summons a magic smoke vapor that quickly fills the air. Neith continues a long projection of this magic fog, ensuring to sweep across the entire area. When he spots a spell circle form to cast a summoned element, he uses his hand to cast a barrage of icicle-spears, and the enemy spell quickly switches to interception.

The caster fails, however, and is caught up in the hailstorm of attacks.

There aren’t many mages who can take on a greater dragon. The few who can rely almost entirely on the element of surprise, including the Harbinger of Calamity. He could probably defeat a dragon without surprise now, but he wouldn’t survive a direct attack.

Once the air is filled with the magic smoke, which rolls across the ground and rises slowly into the air, Neith quickly takes a breath. He is careful to keep Aramellianna above the vapor cloud as he ‘dives’ below the fog to scoop up the allied knights. 

It’s times like this that he wishes he took Daniel’s suggestion to carry a dragon-sized triage bag on him more seriously. He could tuck people away into a normal bag for transport, especially in the event of so many at once. A void bag would be even better, but his human-sized ones are too small for him to manipulate with his claws.

For now, he carefully gathers the knights with his left hand, returning above the heavy cloud he created.

That cloud, for better or worse, is a sleep mist, which will put anyone inside of it to sleep. Naturally, it has limited effectiveness on mages that can counter it, but given how much mana he dumped into it, they’ll have a great deal of trouble. If he’s not careful, he could put himself to sleep with it.

After collecting the knights, Neith smashes his way in through the damaged wall of the hideout, retrieving the prisoner and Sir Samvinez. 

Remembering the mention of another prisoner, Neith sighs. He uses his forearm to brace against the top of the building, hoping this will work.

He lifts the building carefully, and the second floor and above comes off of the walls of the first floor which remain behind. 

He was somewhat hoping the whole building would rise together, but it makes sense. Most buildings aren’t built with the expectation of lifting the whole structure, and certainly not from the second floor’s ceiling.

Either way, it accomplishes what he wanted. He can see the unconscious person, who looks like a derelict or other vagrant. That said, those are often the best disguised infiltrators in the world because most people try not to pay them any mind.

Either way, Neith will have to sort them all out later.

He scoops the knights and prisoners onto his left-hand claw using his tail. He’ll have to be mindful not to drop any of them, but he’d rather keep the Grand Duchess separate. She may need medical attention, and he has wasted a lot of time already.

What is it with the Fievegal’s leadership and doing these things themselves?It seems I will need to speak to Hekate and the others and try to convince everyone to let the knights handle these things. Or, better yet, golems.

Neith takes off with powerful sweeps of his wings, dispersing the sleep magic into the air. Once he’s high enough, he flies directly back to the airship, and he notices the Stalvaltan Guards on the top deck point him out. They go to combat readiness, but Neith comes to a hover and slows his approach.

After observing him for a moment, the guards on deck give signals via semaphore, granting Neith permission to land.

He does exactly that, easing himself down onto the deck of the airliner. He sets the knights and prisoners down first, pointing out the two prisoners. The brave Stalvaltan guards immediately step in, taking custody of the prisoners.

Neith then gingerly hands over the Grand Duchess to another of the Stalvaltan Guards, who calls out, “Your Grace!”

The grey dragon casts his spell once more, returning to his humanoid form. It surprises many of the soldiers, but they maintain their composure. Once he’s their size again, he approaches the human soldiers kneeling with the Grand Duchess in his arms. “How did this happen, Sir Neith?”

“We were attacked. I ask that you take those two men into secure custody and keep them from dying. I’ll take the Grand Duchess to her chambers, but please do send two female escorts to ensure nothing untoward happens.”

The Stalvaltan guard scoffs lightly. “Not that any of us could stop you…”

“You could and should try, Sir. You might get lucky, and in defense of your liege, no battle fought is in vain. That is my opinion.”

The guard nods, and he helps ease Aramellianna into the dragon’s arms. “The knights and her Grace were hit with the shockwave of an explosion spell. They’ll need to be monitored by healers.”

“Of course, Sir. I’ll lead the way.” The Stalvaltan Guard helping Neith stands up and calls out, “All stations, return to posts and maintain vigilance! You four, bring the prisoners.”

“Yes, Sir!”

The guards escort Neith into the hull of the craft, and he encounters Yanidere on the way to the Grand Duchess’ private stateroom. 

“M-Mother!? S-S-Sir Neith, what’s…!?”

“She’s alive, and she’ll recover my Lady. Come, I’ll explain what happened.”

“L-Let me go get Wen-...”

“Begging your pardon, my Lady, but with Wenlianna betrothed to Daniel, you are next in line for the Stalvaltan Grand Duchy. You or your husband.”

“M-My husband is defending the Grand Duchy alongside the Fievegal troops.”

Neith nods. “Of course. Which is why you’ll need to take command for now. I don’t know the extent of her Grace’s injuries, but…” Neith stops at the door, and one of the knights swoops in to open the door quickly, allowing the dragon to enter. “We won’t let further harm come to her. So, acting Duchess, please follow me to discuss our next actions.”

Yanidere nervously hesitates, glancing at the guards. Each one of them folds their right arm across their own chest, bowing slightly. Just as they serve the Grand Duchess loyally, they are prepared to follow Yanidere’s orders just as well.

The young woman nods, following Neith to the bed. He carefully places the Grand Duchess in the bed as the attendants start to arrive. “Your Grace!” “Madam!” They crowd around the bed to check on her, and Yanider passes out instructions to organize them. Once she finishes, she looks at the grey dragon. “Sir Neith?”

“My Lady,” replies the Jomsviking politely.

“Are… dragons…” She glances around. The room is mostly filled with women now; two women Stalvaltan Guards, a handful of maids and ladies in waiting, and Yanidere. The Stalvaltan daughter continues her uneasy question. “Are dragons… attracted… to humans?”

Neith cocks his head, wholly confused for a long moment.

He perks up as it hits him. “Oh, if you are concerned, I shall leave the room. To answer your question, my Lady, no. I am not aroused by the human form. I don’t expect the Empresses are, either. I’ll take my leave.”

“Stay, Sir Neith.”

“Your Highness?” asks one of the ladies-in-waiting. 

“Whatever’s going on, I’d prefer to have you nearby to protect Mother. I am not ready to inherit the Grand Duchy, and I’m in no rush.”

“I can remain just outside the door…”

“No. Please, Sir Neith. You said Mother could be injured. Your strength will make moving her easier. If… If you would.”

The dragon ponders it for a long moment as the other women wait for his response. True, he doesn’t have any sort of physical attraction to the Grand Duchess. He also has Roestren, with whom he has been exchanging letters. He never dedicated any energy to romantic interests or the pursuit of offspring before now, and he’s only gotten to know Aramellianna a little.

He doubts he’s in the running for the next Grand Duke.

That said, he’s not a soulless machine.

“My Lady, I do not want to upset her Grace before I have a chance to become the next Grand Duke.”

Several of the women gasp or murmur, while Yanidere stares at him in disbelief. Her brain finally reboots, and Neith finally chuckles warmly. “Just a joke, my Lady. If you still desire my protection and assistance, you have it.”

The young Duchess huffs and stammers. Her cheeks fill with color, and she steps closer to him. Her voice is barely above a whisper when the brunette retorts, “I have no objections to Mother remarrying if it’s the right man, but be careful, Sir Neith. She has rebuffed all advances so far. She’ll not look kindly on a joke of the matter.”

He laughs again. “Understood, my Lady. Shall we?”

She nods in agreement. “While we do so, explain to me exactly what happened. I know you were all doing something you shouldn’t have, so don’t bother lying. What you tell me will determine how much I tell the others.”

Neith agrees. She sends one of the maids to inform the rest of her sisters, as well as Hekate and Reignleif at the least. They’ll all want to know the Grand Duchess’s condition.

The dragon then explains the brief mission, as well as the two prisoners, who should be locked up at present. He’ll need to verify that nothing happened to them.

While giving the explanation, Neith helps the ladies in waiting dress down Aramellianna into a simple nightgown, which will help her rest while the healers check on her and treat her.

Both potions and potations are excellent resources in an emergency, but with the minor scrapes and bruises the matriarch received, she’ll be safer with natural recovery. The accelerated healing provided by magic means can sometimes cause new issues to arise, especially when healing bone fractures.

That said, the healers will perform simple spells to analyze Aramellianna’s condition continuously, looking for signs of more grave injuries.

She seems to be relatively unharmed, all things considered. Though, one of the Stalvaltan knights comes by to inform them that the five knights suffered fairly serious injuries, since they were caught by more of the blast than Aramellianna, who Neith shielded.

Yanidere asks, “Sir Neith… Can we ask the Empresses capable of healing magic to assist us? If five of our own need aid…” She trails off, looking at her unconscious mother. The healers employed by the Grand Duchy for the airship are still tending to her to make sure she’s safe. Since there are only two, priorities will naturally exist.

“Consider it done,” replies Neith. “I informed Hekate as you were speaking, and she has agreed. She’ll handle it.”

Yanider bows. “You have my thanks, Sir Neith.” The young woman can’t resist her tears any longer, and she chokes out, “You protected her… If… If you hadn’t been there…”

“I’m afraid there are better protectors, my Lady. But, I am glad I was able to bring her back.”

The brunette nods gratefully. Neith steps to a corner of the room to remain out of the way for now. Attacking the Grand Duchess is very much an attack on the Fievegal royalty. The only problem is; who attacked, and what was their actual goal?

***

Senn approaches the massive airship belonging to the Stalvaltan Grand Duchess. When she was living as a recluse on a cape, the elven woman still managed to occasionally hear rumors and gossip about the kingdoms from the various merchants that would stop by to trade with her. Even those who came to demand or beg for her help as a mage would let slip a great deal of information that was easy to piece together.

The Stalvaltan Grand Duchy has two fully operational airships that didn’t originate from this world. Or at least, their designs didn’t. 

And, like the awful sky shuttles that Daniel and his companions use, the airship can fly. She has no idea if she would be able to bear it. However, thanks to that very same strange human from another world, she now regularly purchases ginger root to keep on her person in case she needs it. 

Elves weren’t meant to fly. She has ridden on wyverns before, but she would never go out of her way to do it again. If she had to, she’s glad she met Daniel.

Today, though, something strange is happening, and she needs to check in with the Fievegal leadership.

The Stalvaltan Guards, unsurprisingly, are firmly defending a perimeter around the massive vessel. It is their liege lord’s home away from home in both size and comfort, so Senn is prepared for it when they confront her at the pathway leading close to the vessel parked outside of the town.

“Halt, who goes there?”

The ancient mage comes to a stop with a polite smile. “Senn the Unflinching, here to meet with the Emperor,” replies the elf. It’s a rather embarrassing nickname from the legends that have grown about the elven warrior who faced the Strylak and didn’t falter even a single step. The tale isn’t as true as one might think, since she was already well-acquainted with the Strylak at that point, and they have a mutual understanding of non-interference. The Strylak only appears rarely when it senses something wrong in the world. It’s not unlike a god, residing in the depths of the ocean and ruling the world through the seas. Senn is one of the few that could wound the immensely powerful being in a one on one fight, and she might be one of the even fewer that could defeat it. She has no interest in finding out, but she has always wondered if the Strylak avoids going any further than it does because it knows that there are a handful of beings that can kill it.

After a brief moment where one of the guards operates a strange magic device, a voice comes back, “This is Duchess Yanidere. I grant Senn the Unflinching permission to enter.”

“Yes, your Highness,” replies the guard. He signals the others, and they relax their guard. “Senn the Unflinching has permission to enter. Jombe will escort you.”

The elven woman bows politely. “Thank you, good Sirs.”

She follows the Guard that steps ahead of her, leading her to the ramp that leads to the inside of the vessel. Yanidere, the second eldest daughter of the Stalvaltan family, meets with the elven woman. “I’ll take you to her Greatness now, Lady Senn. Have you been well?”

“Yes, thank you, my Lady.” As they walk, Senn asks, “Has something happened, my Lady? I expected the Grand Duchess to meet with me first, if anything.”

“Mother is feeling under the weather today. Apologies on behalf of the Grand Duchy.”

“No apologies necessary. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Thank you, but she is resting now and should recover quickly.”

“Very well. I was hoping to ask something of Daniel.”

“Yes, the guards said so. Since he’s our distinguished guest, though, it is the Stalvaltan family’s responsibility to meet the visitors first.”

“Of course.”

“Also, I’ll bring you to the first four Empresses, because Daniel is also under the weather for the moment.”

“He is?” asks the elf, a little surprised.

“Yes.”

Suddenly, some things are starting to make sense. A major attack happened in town the evening prior, and the Mattarglos soldiers are still looking for clues. Some rumors say a dragon was present, but there are conflicting reports. Most of the witnesses seem to have been asleep, which is damaging their credibility.

Senn uses her magic to scan a proximity around her. She can find everyone except one; Daniel. What little mana he had during the fight with Yaulwembor has vanished completely.

Using another spell, though, she is able to find the sounds of life aligning with the lack of mana.

“Has Daniel used his mana?”

Yanidere stumbles. “P-Pardon?”

“I can’t detect him at all. Either he exhausted his mana, or something else…”

The elven woman has been alive for a very long time. She has studied faces with every race she has ever interacted with, and she has learned many of the tells in behavior for all of them. Gatonines, shenwulves, and feldroks have a built in disadvantage with their ears and tails, which are often extremely expressive. Humans, however, are plenty expressive without them, and in all cases, the young are the weakest at hiding their thoughts.

“Something else, then.”

“I… You should ask the Empresses…”

Senn smiles and nods. “Yes, indeed. Though, I suspect you know better than they do the importance of protecting one’s reputation in noble society.” They continue walking, finding the three Dragon Empresses and Hekate crowded around Wenlianna as they all work on something in the small lab belonging to the magic artisan.

“Um, excuse me, your Greatness, your Graces…” calls out Yanidere gently.

The five women turn to look, each greeting Yanidere and Senn.

“What brings you here today, Lady Senn?” asks Ryuogriar, who has a bit more of a scowl on her face than she normally does.

“I was hoping to speak to Daniel, but I believe one of my questions has been answered.”

The women wince, and the scowls on Ryuogriar’s and Geirahoel’s faces harden a bit, though it’s not directed at Senn.

Wenlianna glances around hesitantly, and she finally explains, “Daniel is resting. He was injured.”

“It seems he has lost his mana,” blurts out Senn, watching the reactions.

She obviously receives surprise, and the eldest of the three dragons grits her teeth, her jaw and lips trembling as she holds back pain.

The young orange dragon doesn’t contain her emotions. She tenses tightly for only a moment before storming towards the elf. She yells, “If you don’t have anything useful to add, you can see yourself out!”

Senn does her best to stand fast, but dragons can unleash a lot of damage quickly and without warning.

“Geira, calm down,” urges Reignleif gently. “She was simply stating what she can undoubtedly sense.”

“I don’t care! He didn’t trust us! How am I supposed to…?” Her expression twists, and Senn can see the glisten of tears appearing as she whirls away from the elf just as quickly.

The elven woman has no real investment in the situation other than hoping Daniel doesn’t destroy the world with his devastating superweapons.

Geirahoel finally growls coldly as she squeezes her hands into tight fists, “I just want to lock him away where he can never be harmed or taken away again.”

There’s an awkward silence in the room, and Senn has no investment in the outcome, since most of Daniel’s “power” are weapons that can be deployed by anyone who knows how, it seems. There’s not much disadvantage to letting Geirahoel have her way.

“Mukori would never forgive you,” retorts Reignleif bluntly, which in turn, makes Geirahoel go pale, and even Ryuogriar seems to deflate at those words, as if she was thinking the same thing without saying it.

“Th-That’s why we’re working on this project!” adds Wenlianna. “Actually, would we be able to pick your brain on the matter, Lady Senn? I know you don’t often choose to exchange the more ancient techniques with anyone, but it may be of some benefit to you, if you’re willing to help.”

Her interest piqued, the elven mage asks, “Oh? Before that, though, I wanted more information on what Daniel and Aramellianna encountered. I have some suspicions, but I need more information.”

Hekate replies, “They were separate instances. Both of which involved Neith, and are otherwise unrelated.”

“The grey dragon?” Senn ponders this for a moment. She knew Larvenmaouchoul when he wasn’t much more than an adolescent, and she encountered him briefly a few times over the centuries before the fall of the feldroks. He isn’t the smartest dragon in the world, and he doesn’t have much ambition other than to live an honest life. Morthybargaron’s death became his ambition after the betrayal. It’s unlikely Neith is capable of lying in a meaningful way, let alone choosing to betray someone like Daniel or the Empresses before Senn now.

Still, it’s adding up. There are rumblings that have started ever since Daniel and Rikuto appeared in this world. When Daniel disappeared for a time, everything seemed to return to the status quo, even with Rikuto making the changes he was making to restore Mornistae to a stable state.

But, now, the rumblings have started again, and seem to be getting more intense. Daniel is a threat to someone, and they are unhappy about it, as if he might drag them out into the light.

Naturally, Senn can’t prove any of this. The only other one who might sense what caused Senn to come investigate the otherworlder Emperor is Vaergraes, the former ‘Demon Queen’.

“Explain each situation as best as you know it, please,” replies Senn after her pondering. “I’m afraid this might be a link I have waited decades for…”

***

Geirahoel stands just inside of the stateroom with her arms crossed, watching. Doephluev the former-assassin is carefully tending to Daniel. He’s still incredibly weak after getting cursed, and his mana has still not recovered at all.

You idiot… Why? Why do you never…? She can’t even finish the thought as she watches. She’s not even sure why she came to his room. Her heart hurts, her body feels twisted in knots, and she feels unrelenting anger boiling in her.

You promised… Why do you promise and keep breaking it? D-Does he… Does he not l-love…?

She looks away, feeling the hurt and anger intensifying. She feels so helpless. Dragons aren’t supposed to be helpless.

And yet, this mere human with no magic regularly makes her fearful, helpless, worried, and… happy.

She never knew the kind of happiness she knows when she and Daniel are arranging flowers in the garden, or when he’s teaching her new recipes, and even how to work on his own hobbies, like tinkering on new devices. She has been happy to do anything and everything that he wants her to do, and she has plenty of her own things that she loves to do.

And yet… She can’t get over her immense disappointment, anger, frustration, and a host of other turbulent feelings that make her want to destroy something.

“Geira… Mukori?” asks Daniel’s voice weakly, and she flinches with a start. She locks eyes with him, staring into his expression for a long time. He only breaks eye contact to look at Doephluev when the archoneldwyn teases softly with her own disappointment, “I see the rumors are true…”

The human mechanic glances between each of them, since it’s late at night and they’re the only ones present at the moment. Wenlianna, Hekate, Reignleif, and Aoloan are working on the special teleporter they’ve been working on, Vaergraes is meeting with the elf woman Senn, Ryuogriar is discussing security with Neith, Magnir, and Roeta -as well as lecturing Neith-. Kera’tai is training with the knights to try to improve her own strength, and the three gatonine women are resting after looking after Daniel since early in the morning.

Daniel starts to say when he once more connects his gaze to the orange dragon’s, “Mukori, I…”

Tears well in her eyes. Each time, hearing that word now, is jabbing at her heart. She whirls and flees the room, unable to bear it any longer.

“Muko-!” calls out Daniel before coughing, and that’s the last she hears as she runs down the halls, up the stairs, and out to the weatherdeck of the airship. She summons her wings and lifts into flight before she can process her thoughts and feelings.

Before she knows it, she finds herself far away at a place that has only recently become familiar, and yet, is the only true home she can claim; the Citadel.

Geirahoel is one of the administrators of the Citadel thanks to Daniel, so she can fly directly to the rooftop garden without worrying about the barrier.

There, she drops to her knees, flopping down to her hands on the ground, panting as tears fall freely from her eyes.

If you only knew! If you only knew, you fool! I… I… The terrible thoughts I had… The terrible things I wanted to do… How could you look at me? How?

How am I his favorite?

She begins to sob, plopping down gracelessly to curl up in a ball on the grass of the rooftop garden.

In the morning, Geirahoel finds herself covered by a blanket, and her eggs are nestled nearby.

Gold, the second eldest female dragon, is seated cross-legged in her human form. Her own egg is nestled in the cross of her legs, and she is leaning rather casually on the shell. Thankfully, dragon eggs are fairly sturdy, but it definitely would make most nervous to see what she’s doing.

The junior orange dragon pulls her eggs close to hug them, and she murmurs, “How long…?”

“Have I been here? An hour or so. Balamae informed me that you had returned, but it sounded like you needed some time alone first, so I waited until this morning.”

Geirahoel nods absentmindedly. She let her emotions flood out of her, and now, she feels weary and numb.

“Did… something happen to Daniel?” asks Gold.

Geirahoel winces, and the elder dragon scoffs. “Figures. Humans are pathetic, temperamental bea-...”

“Enough,” snarls Geirahoel, and the golden dragon flinches. Unlike the regal appearance of Ryuogriar, Gold has a more rough appearance, like an unkempt woman who would rather drink and fight than rule a kingdom. She doesn’t attempt to appeal to Daniel in any capacity, and in fact, only cooperates with him and the Empresses because she has been granted immense freedom and luxury with very little responsibility.

Geirahoel surprised herself with the suddenness of her own response. Hearing Gold start to insult Daniel, however, was a line she won’t tolerate being crossed.

She finally murmurs more softly, “He’s not a beast… He… He just… He won’t… rely on… me…”

The elder dragon is a little surprised, and she blinks a couple of times. Finally, she lets out a sigh and leans on her egg once more. “I’m guessing there’s more, but I don’t really care about your family drama… Listen, no matter what you want to hear, you are a dragon. Once upon a time, that meant something. Dragons do whatever we want, because nothing is more powerful than us. That… human has no interest in collecting wealth or power. So, why does he do anything he does?”

Geirahoel gives it thought for a long moment, and Gold groans, “I wasn’t trying to make you think. I was asking because I don’t get him. Even without wanting those things, he defeats everything he comes across. But, then he just lets us do whatever. It’s confusing.” She scratches her head as she deliberates on the meaning of Daniel’s behavior. “I mean… He gave me the task of feeding a bunch of stinking shellfish because it would apparently make me richer than I ever was in Shialvolgarro’s Hoard. I told that foolish human ‘challenge accepted’. Know why?”

Geirahoel shakes her head, and Gold smirks. “He said he would give me all of the profits from the diamonds if he loses, in addition to my freedom and command of the Fievegal’s entire army.” She licks her teeth eagerly. “Dumb human. As if some disgusting puddle-bugs will ever make more money than what I had in the Hoard.” She laughs boisterously, continuing her taunt, “Hahaha! He’ll need a thousand more years to pull one over on me! Hahaha!”

“What if he wins?” asks Geirahoel, which halts the senior dragon’s jovial guffaws.

“What?”

“What if he wins?”

This completely baffles the rough-edged dragon. “What do you care? Afraid I’m going to become part of his harem?” She snickers deviously.

However, the orange dragon continues to catch her off guard. “Not at all. I’m excited to see our children, but yours and Daniel’s would almost certainly be beautiful as well.”

Gold stares at Geirahoel with her mouth agape, unable to form a thought for a long time.

She finally shakes her head, clearing her throat. “Ahem… Well, we can both rest easy. He reassured me he won’t make me be a part of his harem. He just asked me to accept a job if he wins.”

“What job?”

The golden dragon shrugs. “Don’t know. He’d be dead before he could win, and he only gave himself a year instead.” She grins wickedly. “Maybe I should have made him become a part of my harem instead, hmm?”

Geirahoel is unperturbed by the taunt. She doesn’t admire or care for Gold as much as she did Ryuogriar and Reignleif during their time before Daniel, but she never really disliked the second eldest dragon matron either. She has been frustrating before with her blasé attitude and arrogant behavior, but she’s harmless overall.

The gamble isn’t much of a loss for either side. Gold taking over the army would be a potential threat, but Daniel has the golems at his back, which are part of the Citadel specifically, not the army. 

Additionally, the light-hearted conversation surprisingly accomplished what it was intended to do.

Geirahoel isn’t quite as upset as she was, and in fact, feels a little better.

***