The dragon took two more steps. As long as it kept moving, the adventurers could not approach safely. Nadia pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear and shouted a command.
“Everyone, ready yourselves! We’ll stop the dragon where it stands!”
At her order, the mages unleashed all the magic they had to bring the dragon to a halt and keep it still. The monster’s legs sank into pitfalls, and the chunks of ice waiting within attached to its limbs like quicksand, blocking the dragon from any further forward movement. Rocky manacles of the magical variety then wrapped around the huge beast’s legs, further anchoring it to the earth.
The mages then focused their efforts on maintaining their spells and blocking any counterattacks by pummeling the dragon’s face with giant “fists” of earth and ice magic. While they did this, Zack’s forces rushed in, their eyes set on the dragon’s tail and wings. The dragon twisted its neck and opened its mouth to let loose a furious roar, but Nadia’s fire magic was waiting for it, the searing heat of her spells silencing the monster in an instant. But even then the beast continued to struggle to break free, and as it writhed, fractures opened along its magical binds—fractures that were quickly sealed with deft spellwork.
The mages continued to pummel the dragon while the supply squad provided them with magical recovery potions. They had to keep up the offensive to stop the dragon from retaliating, and so far things looked good—the dragon could do little more than let out short grunts under the pressure.
“Storydia’s mages are incredible!” said Frol. “I’ve never seen anything like this!”
He had been told that Storydia’s adventurers were kind and generous, but their merciless assault on the dragon left him pale with awe as he raised his sword and attempted to plunge its blade into the monster’s wing. Unfortunately for him, the blade slid away, leaving him scrambling not to drop his weapon entirely.
“What the—?!” he exclaimed, stumbling as he was carried forward by the momentum of his failed strike.
Clemens, too, attempted to thrust his pitch-black dual blades into a softer part of the dragon’s wing, but quickly discovered that he couldn’t—the blades didn’t catch, and instead slid along the wing’s surface.
What is going on?
The two peered at the dragon’s wing and saw a thick liquid oozing along its surface.
“What is that...?!”
The monster’s bat-like wings were covered in very thin, narrow feathers, and appeared to secrete an oil which kept them from drying out, providing a water-repellent effect.
“Damn thing’s just full of tricks!” said Frol.
“Oh no—our shoes!” shouted Clemens, having just noticed what had happened to their feet.
The sight was enough to make the blood drain from the men’s faces—their shoes were covered in the monster’s oil. Such a thing was fatal for a swordsman, as it would badly hamper one’s movement, making dodging and weaving almost impossible.
We need to wash them clean—but how?
Clemens’s first thought was to have a mage cast a stream of water over them, but he didn’t think that water alone, warm or otherwise, would be able to remove the beastly oil. They’d have to be washed with soap...
“Wait, soapy water...” he uttered.
If it was soapy water they needed, he knew just the person for the job. As the realization hit him, Clemens glanced around for Shiori, and though she was rushing around doing medic work, she quickly noticed his gaze. Perhaps she’d realized that something was up when Clemens and Frol stopped moving. She ran over, got caught up with the situation, and promptly whipped out some soap.
“Fantastic,” said Clemens. “You brought some with you.”
“I don’t go anywhere without it,” replied the housekeeping mage.
She cast her spell quickly and cleaned the oil off the men’s shoes in an instant, but was careful to rinse away any remaining soap bubbles as she did so.
“How’s that?” she asked.
“Perfect. Thanks.”
The whole thing took no more than two minutes. Frol was dumbfounded by the speed of it all.
“She would be so amazingly helpful to have at the camp...” he uttered.
The words fell from his lips in such a way that it was obvious they were no empty compliment.
“But what now?” he asked, as another realization hit him. “We can’t get close to the wing. The same thing will happen all over again.”
“In which case, we might have no choice but to cut it off at the root,” replied Clemens. “Easier said than done, however...”
The dragon’s wings were essentially a mass of skin that stretched from the beast’s arms to its trunk. The wing’s root, in other words, was part of the arm itself, and was powerfully built in order to support the dragon’s great weight. As such, cutting off the wing at the root might prove even more difficult than felling one of the nearby forest’s giant trees.
For an instant, the idea of giving up on the wing entirely flashed through their minds. It was an earth dragon, after all, and earth dragons were incapable of flight. It was possible that, given the patchy way in which limbs had been attached to the dragon, it would not be able to carry its own weight through the air. Even if it could, the dragon would not have complete freedom in the skies—the adventurers guessed that the best it could do was either glide or otherwise use wind magic in order to float.
“Given the lay of the land here, the dragon couldn’t possibly take off, could it?” asked Frol.
“Ordinarily, you’d be right,” replied Clemens. “Ordinarily...”
Clemens thought back to a record he’d read before, one that had been left by a foreign adventurer. In it was written a description of a dragon that had used a run-up in order to achieve flight. That particular dragon could only spend short periods in the air, but that was more than enough time to send some twenty or thirty men to their deaths. Even without any magic, the speed at which it ran before taking flight—its charge, in other words—was fatal. The writer of the record had survived the ordeal, but had been left paralyzed. They’d lost more than half of their companions too.
Though it wasn’t likely the dragon could do such a thing, it was nonetheless possible. The knights had also reported themselves that they’d noticed the dragon seemingly attempting to ready itself for flight. This was why Zack had given the order to dismantle its wings.
“Shall I wash the wings, then?” asked Shiori. “I’m not sure if that will do much, however; not if it has secretory glands.”
“No—even then, it’s worth a shot,” replied Clemens. “No need to do both. Just wash one.”
“In which case, I’ll go get some more soap. I’m not carrying enough for a whole wing.”
Marena quickly relayed Shiori’s request to the supply squad.
“Those knights use the good stuff,” muttered Marena, as she brought the disinfectant soap over. “It’s made by Rose Dvol. Unscented, but still.”
“They make the best soap around,” said Shiori. “Perhaps this is the only brand that meets the medics’ standards? I’ve heard that other soaps have too many impurities.”
Clemens and Frol didn’t understand much of the conversation between the women, who had strong preferences when it came to soaps, but both only really cared whether or not the soap would provide them the breakthrough they needed.
Shiori and Marena tore open the packaging and Shiori got ready—she broke the soap into tiny pieces with wind magic, then launched it at the dragon’s wing.