Witch and her spider vanish with a flash of silver light. No one is left in the throne room to witness their departure.
✦ ✦ ✦
HOW long has it been since I last put on chain mail? My body remembers its feel despite the length of time. Not a single day has gone by where I haven’t trained with the sword, but heavy armor isn’t necessary for forest living—it’s inconvenient if anything. But now the Fairy Barrier has been broken. I’ve no choice but to clad myself in metal and take steel into my hands in order to protect myself.
“By means of the sword, my body becomes a shield,” I recite internally, as I fit the armor to my body. In the past, I devoted my body to the king and to the lives of the weak, whose names I never knew. Today, I do it for Princess. I finish pulling the chain armor on over a padded vest. Then I don my black surcoat, leather breastplate, leather gloves, and cloak. The sole coat of arms imprinted on my armor is the Hunter of the Winter Star on my shield.
I leave the forest dressed in the same attire I wore when I first arrived. Perhaps this is a sign that “the time has come”?
I put my favorite wide-brim hat that had miraculously survived the fire on my head and yank it down. Black powder flutters off the brim. Did it get a little burnt? Well, shouldn’t be much of a problem. Shield goes on my back, sword sheathed at my waist. Last but not least, I grab the bow, arrows, and knife that have supported our lifestyle over the past year. With this, I’m done outfittin’ myself. It’s his turn next.
“Whoops.” There’s something I gotta do first. I place my hand on the wall made from the Millennial Tree. “Thanks for everything until now. Sorry we tore a hole open in you. He was desperate to save me…oh?”
Buds are already sprouting along the edges of the scorched hole. Remarkable tree. Not much time has passed since the fire went out either.
“You’re strong, aren’t you?” I praise the tree sincerely, the corners of my lips slightly turning up.
Interesting. I can still smile?
“I can still keep goin’. Yeah.”
✦ ✦ ✦
“HOW’S the strap feel?”
I’ve wrapped a belt around the base of Dragon’s neck and fastened it. To make it, I used whatever rope and cloth we had lying around to lengthen Buttercup’s harness, turnin’ it into an impromptu Dragon Harness and Saddle. Dragon’s the one who brought up using one.
“This is going to be a long flight. It is imperative that we reduce the strain on you. Preserve your strength for the battle ahead.”
“Err, what I mean is, it’s not rubbin’ against any weird spots or too tight, or anything, is it…?”
“There are no issues. Want to check for yourself?”
“No…” I was about to ask if it irritated his wounds, but I swallow the words as they reach my throat. “It’s fine as long as it won’t hinder your movement.”
My resonance with Dragon’s five senses has grown stronger. I experienced it firsthand during all that preparation—I couldn’t avoid being linked to him. The connection is much deeper than before…it can’t even be compared to when I didn’t have the scale burned into my flesh. Just by concentrating, I can sense the leaf falling onto his shoulder and the twig breaking under his claw.
“Hey, Dragon, why couldn’t you sense when Princess woke up?”
“What you perceive from me is only possible through your very own talents, Gideon.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Your own senses are what deciphers and interprets the information I take in. That is where your skills come in to play.”
Meaning that we receive twice the information but have two different sets of senses to examine it? I can detect and see through the things he can’t. And the opposite is also possible—probably.
“…That’s how it works?”
“Yes, that is how it works.”
I’ve realized we can get the point across to each other with fewer words now. Or maybe we were slowly becoming like this over the past year. And it’s just taken me until now to notice.
“For example, you currently have something in your chest pocket, yes?”
“Good guess. I do.”
“…Is it ale?”
“You can tell that much?!”
“The guess comes from my observations of your behavior.”
I shrug and pull out the bottle. It’s a flat, square glass bottle that can fit in the palm of my hand. Perfect size and shape for secretly carryin’ it ‘round on your person, which is what it was made for. Takin’ a good swig every night before bed has been a meager pleasure of mine.
“It’ll liven things up before we sortie.” I hold up the bottle. Dragon nods.
I pull out the stopper and throwback a mouthful. The sweet yet savory tang of the fermented barley followed by bitterness and thick heat engulf the inside of my mouth. The enriched water of life burns down my throat, tingles the inside of my nose, and slides into my stomach.
“Whew…that hits the spot…” I slowly exhale. “Say, Dragon, tell me…”
“What is it?”
Borrowing the alcohol’s stimulus, I ask the question I’ve always wanted to ask but couldn’t. “Did you save Princess Lala Lilia ‘cuz of what happened with the other princess?”
The sound of rain echoes in my ears. Rain pelts my hat, armor, and shield, making distinct musical tones. Steam rises from where the raindrops touch Dragon’s body.
“Nay, quite the opposite actually.” He opens one of his wings partway, then closes it. “I made up my mind at the time to never get involved with the human world again.”
Oppressive gloom creeps over my heart. A lump is stuck in the back of my throat. He still has something more to say. He’s hesitating. Then I’ll just hafta bring it out of him.
“But you didn’t do that,” I prompt.
“Indeed.” His long, vertical pupil expands into a circle in the center of his golden eyes. “On that rainy day over a year ago, my thoughts changed the moment I heard Princess Lala Lilia’s voice. I decided then that I would obstruct the rain pouring down on her with this body of mine. I would not let this princess be soaked by the rain further… That was all there was to it.”
For that simple reason, he had ceased battle with a knight, his mortal nemesis. Then he even allowed that same knight to ride on his back to the Self-Proclaimed Daemon King’s tower, and then he went and lived together with the knight for a whole year—all for that simple reason.
And now he’s about to go raid Lord Designs’ Castle.
Not to mention, for how brutally he’s been betrayed, this dragon doesn’t harbor even an ounce of resentment towards the witch. Hatred and wrath are absent too. Just how good-natured is he?!
I drop my gaze to the bottle in my hand. Half of the amber liquid is still left.
“How about it? Want to have a drink?”
Dragon turns his long neck toward the bottle, “I shall take part in it.”
His red mouth pulls open. White fangs line the inside. Each and every single dragon fang is as sharp as a dagger. I dump all of the remaining ale into that mouth.
“Hrm…it has got quite the…profound flavor.”
“Did’ja like it?”
“It is not half-bad.”
That’s the greatest praise anything will ever get from him.
“Yeah. It’s gone already.”
I pull back my arm, about to chuck the bottle and our bad luck with it at full force, when, suddenly, Dragon holds his foreleg out in front of me.
“Hm? What’s wrong?”
“Lend it to me.”
“Here ya go.”
I tuck the tiny bottle in between two claws of his outstretched foreleg. He’s a nimble creature. Impressed, I watch him bring his mouth to it, purse his lips, and blow a careful breath into it.
“Take it with you. My present, in return for your offering.”
“Oh, thanks.”
I accept it from his claws. I can feel the heat through my thick gloves.
“Make sure you take a sip before using it. Do not forget.”
“Okay.”
I put the stopper back in place and stash the bottle into the small bag hanging from my belt.