Chapter 113

The dragon, its face a horrifying echo of Ivetsa’s smile, met Elise’s glare. She recoiled from the name, the decision to call it “Ivetsa” instantly revolting. A moment’s thought provided a solution. “Change of plans, Becky,” she said, using the alias she’d chosen for the outside world. The dragon, now “Becky,” dipped its head in silent obedience.

“Excellent,” Elise continued. “Since the room seems rather chilly, would you mind drawing the curtains and tending to the fire?” She paused, considering. “Actually, while you’re at it, perhaps you could stand guard outside tonight? Keep an eye out for anything suspicious. No napping, of course.” A mischievous glint entered her eyes. “And come morning, gather the supplies we’ll need for our journey. The food here hasn’t been inspiring, so a shopping trip and a hand with breakfast would be lovely.”

The dragon stared at Elise, its gaze heavy. Perhaps it saw through her attempt at a haughty facade. But Elise had faced down the icy demeanor of Rezette Kyrstan before. This, she decided, was more bewildering than frightening. ‘It surely can’t be harder than dealing with him,’ she thought, a strange confidence blossoming in her chest. And, oddly enough, her confidence was well-placed.

***

Deep within the Argan Imperial Church’s catacombs lies the underground chapel where ancestors rest. Here, etched into the very walls, lies the unvarnished truth of Argan’s founding myth. Unlike embellished tales of other faiths, this account remains raw and unfiltered. It was recorded directly by Inashio Conrad, Gallian’s closest companion, who bore witness to every encounter with the legendary, mad dragon.

For Elise and Andrei, the twins who spent their childhood roaming these sacred halls, the founding myth was more than just scripture. They could recite it flawlessly, its words ingrained in their memory. A wave of nostalgia washed over Andrei as he recalled the myth’s captivating opening lines.

The story begins in the ancient continental year 1032, seventeen years before the dawn of Argan’s imperial calendar, which marks year zero.

At seventeen, Gallian, a boy hardened by the rugged northern mountains, scoured the peaks for the legendary dragon. Here, at the foothills, he stumbled upon Sameshita, lost in play. This chance encounter, the first between human and dragon, would later ignite legend.

“Almighty dragon,” Gallian rasped, his voice raw with desperation. “Orphaned by bandits, my last kin – my mother and Inashio’s sister – are threatened by another raid. We seek not divine whispers, but a path to save them. Can you help?”

“Prayers have failed us,” Gallian continued, his voice firm. “We crave action, not empty promises.”

Sameshita’s eyes narrowed. “Then the gods deem them unworthy. Why should I intervene where they turn a blind eye?”

“What can I offer to earn your aid?” Gallian pleaded.

Sameshita pondered, then rumbled, “Entertain me. Spark my curiosity.”

Gallian, for the first time, faltered. “Halfway there, then,” Sameshita chuckled. “You, brave human, are the first to reach my lair. Succeed in the remaining half.”

Before Sameshita could finish, the boy, a wildflower on the verge of being crushed, leaned in and kissed the dragon’s cheek. It was a fleeting touch, neither lingering nor passionate, but undeniably bold and provocative. The first human contact with a dragon.

This, roughly, is how the legend began.

Gallian, a youth of striking beauty and captivating spirit, quickly captured Sameshita’s attention. Intrigued by his boldness, the dragon sympathized with his hardships and found itself gradually enchanted by his unwavering spirit and boundless energy despite life’s cruelty. Thus began their unlikely partnership, a bond that would endure for two decades.

However, their relationship fractured with the arrival of a human woman who captured Gallian’s heart. The possessive dragon, yearning for Gallian’s undivided loyalty, lashed out in a jealous rage, brutally slaying the woman.

Devastated and disillusioned, Gallian severed ties and fled the Grenthern Mountains, igniting the dragon’s fury. A full-scale war between Gallian, his five disciples, and the enraged dragon soon followed.

Intriguingly, chronicler Inashio conspicuously omitted these events from the founding myth. Through Elise’s story, Andrei finally understood the prophecy – Gallian’s descendants forever bound to the dragon’s shadow.

“So invoking Sameshita’s name awakens the dragon itself,” Andrei murmured, a newfound understanding dawning.

Lost in thought, Andrei rubbed his chin. He remained within Riosa Castle, the familiar anxiety for Elise’s contact gnawing at him. As he drifted into a light doze, a jolt of his sister’s presence jolted him awake. It had been three long months since their last subconscious connection.

Relief washed over Andrei as he learned of Elise’s escape from Rotiara, but it was quickly replaced by concern. 

“The dragon’s involvement is unexpected,” Elise said, worry creasing her brow. “It’s never approached me like this. While it seems content playing maid, its true motives remain unclear.”

“The myth portrays Sameshita as simple, sister,” Andrei countered. “Perhaps it finds amusement in observing you, Gallian’s descendant, firsthand.” 

Elise raised a hand to silence him, her expression troubled. It seemed his voice wasn’t reaching her clearly.

“Can you hear me, Elise?” Andrei pressed. Her form flickered, shrouded in an ever-shifting mist. Her vision mirrored the distortion, blurring their connection. Andrei’s voice sounded muffled, as if filtered through a thick fog. The weakness of their usual subconscious link was amplified this time.

“Maybe it’s been too long,” Elise rasped. 

“Step back. I’ll try to stabilize the connection.” However, any magical energy Andrei sent forward seemed to hit an invisible wall, preventing it from reaching her.

“Elizabeth, are you certain the Duke isn’t there?” Andrei pressed, his concern shifting.

“He’s not,” Elise choked out, a memory of the cabin flashing in her mind. The storm-like presence of the man still sent shivers down her spine. Thankfully, Rezette hadn’t breached her magical barrier.

Alarm etched itself onto Andrei’s face. “Did he harm you?” he demanded, his voice laced with urgency. Elise, a wisp of a figure in his vision, shook her head weakly. 

“Your magic feels… tattered,” Andre murmured. “It’s as if the Duke is somehow… siphoning it, making it difficult even for us to connect.”

Andrei froze, mid-thought. The Duke was absent, yet something steadily eroded Elise’s magic. An unsettling, no, a horrifying realization slammed into him. He bolted upright, his chair tumbling to the floor with a crash.

“Elise… wait!” he cried, his voice rising in panic. Her form flickered, her voice fading into a whisper. Before it vanished entirely, Andrei forced the words out. “Are you… pregnant?”

If something was siphoning her magic from within, it explained the anomaly. But his question hung unanswered as Elise’s presence dissolved completely. Andrei jolted awake, a strangled cry escaping his lips. “No, that can’t be…”

Despair gnawed at Andrei. His sister wouldn’t succumb to that man – not physically, not emotionally, and certainly not bear his child! But the possibility, however remote, gnawed at him.

A child? The thought ignited a fresh wave of panic. A child would derail his plans, sowing discord in Grandel. He couldn’t allow it.

Rezette Kyrstan, the War Demon, loomed large as Supreme Commander of the Van Yela Army – a critical strategic asset in the North. With Argan remnants threatening Ugel and the Grandel Alliance, his inevitable presence on the battlefield was a nightmare. But the princess, essentially Argan’s spiritual leader, carrying the child of this enemy commander?

Andrei couldn’t fathom the chaos. A half-god child would be a magnet for ambitious factions. Despite a pang of guilt for the child, it simply couldn’t exist. Besides, the Bright Dragon’s sudden appearance near Elise was unnerving. Had it sensed something? If so, how long would its capricious hunger for power be satisfied with mere observation?

This can’t go on, Andrei steeled himself. We need to escape the Grand Duke and keep Elise away from that unpredictable dragon.

With a determined limp, he approached a cage. One of his carrier pigeons fluttered out. White light crackled around Andrei’s trembling fingers as he stroked its back. “Fly swiftly to Barnon. Tell him to reach Norella in the South immediately, to protect my sister at all costs. Go now!”