“Well, Father?”
“Ah, yes.”
The atmosphere between the long-separated father and son was as pleasant as one would expect. Count Deruth sipped some warm tea to settle his nerves. Cale had already caught him up to speed with a video call.
“So,” he began, “Faern’s knights went to Norland?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you think they’ll invade on an army of wyverns?”
“I do.”
“They’ll also enter Brek and our northwest side via Askosan?”
“That’s correct.”
Clack. Deruth set his teacup on the table, glancing at the flag displayed in the office. It depicted the golden turtle, the Henituse family crest.
He answered his son with two simple words: “All right.” That was approval enough. He then added, “The Henituse family was originally a martial arts clan anyway, the shield to Rowoon’s northeastern region.”
Deruth was not a warrior, but he knew how to handle a sword, and he hadn’t forgotten the art of combat. Why else would he have toiled to assemble a knight brigade in such a remote territory? The golden turtle represented the Henituses’ core principle: One must thoroughly prepare in order to live a long and peaceful life.
The count regarded his son. Cale was the only one in the household with red hair—his mother’s hair.
“This territory’s affairs are my business, as is helping my son.” Recalling the things Cale had asked for in their call, Deruth extended a hand. “Let’s give it a try.”
Cale had said the same thing to him some time ago: “Let’s give it a try, Father.”
Deruth remembered it well. Ever since late fall, he’d been recruiting more soldiers, and he’d stocked the warehouses with food supplies. He also made sure the walls were well equipped and ready to defend, along with the rest of the lands in his domain.
Cale clasped Deruth’s hand. “Please be discreet, Father.”
The count’s response came through in the firm squeeze of his hand. That sufficed for now; there was nothing else Cale needed to tell his father at present.
Thus, Cale exited the castle and headed straight to the Dark Forest.
✦ ✦ ✦
Standing where the black swamp used to be, Cale stared at the dry ground. The necromancer Mary, dressed in her black robe, stood beside him.
“It has been a while since I’ve been here,” she said. “This is wonderful. I missed it so much.” Her mechanical voice carried the slightest note of joy.
“You did?” Raon asked from beside her. “I like coming here with you and the weak human too! Our front yard really is the best.”
Both the black dragon and the woman in the black robe kept sneaking peeks at Cale. He had said very little since he’d learned Faern’s knights were on the move.
Raon scrunched his nose in thought, then said, “Don’t worry, human. Nobody will get hur—”
“Mr. Cale!” someone cut in.
Choi Han, Gashan the tiger shaman, and Lark the wolf boy were all approaching the swamp. Cale had summoned them here. Their expressions were grim now that they knew what was about to happen, though Gashan in particular felt a twinge of anticipation as well.
Even as they walked up to him, Cale never peeled his gaze from the swamp. He seemed to have no intention of moving.
“Lord Cale?” Gashan called out to him.
At length, Cale pivoted to face the confident Choi Han, the poised Gashan, and the hesitant Lark. “Choi Han. Gashan.”
“Yes, Mr. Cale?”
“Speak freely, my lord.”
Cale’s gaze shifted toward the west. “Prepare yourselves. We’re going to Death Canyon.”
He then focused on Lark. The wolf flinched when their eyes met, but his gaze held more spirit than before. He seemed nervous about traveling with Cale for the first time in ages.
Lark had clearly gotten stronger after training with Choi Han, but it still wasn’t enough. Though the Wolf Tribe treasured the bonds of pack and family, wolves only grew in solitude. They needed loss and loneliness, which they could only experience alone, to help them discover one other vital trait.
The auctioned item known as “the Wolf King’s remains” sat in Cale’s pocket. In truth, it was more of a remnant, not actual remains. The item in question was a diary—but this diary was written in blood.
Reflecting on this, Cale addressed the young wolf nervously awaiting his orders. “You’re coming too, Lark. Be ready.”
“Y-yes, sir!”
It was high time for the Wolf King’s name to spread throughout the world once more.
“Mary.”
“Yes?” The black robe fluttered as Mary moved toward Cale, but a sound from the swamp caught her attention.
Fwoom.
Something had materialized from Cale’s subspace satchel, a customized bag courtesy of Raon.
“Ngh…” Lark jerked back a step, his eyes locked on the heart of the swamp.
Gashan gasped, then muttered in disbelief, “It’s a dragon.”
A dragon’s white skeleton rested in the middle of the dry swamp. Despite having been reduced to bones, the massive, ancient dragon exuded an overwhelming aura. This was the dragon corpse Cale had seen when he found the Dominating Aura two years ago.
Mary breathed in sharply, and she swiveled back to Cale. Facing her head-on, he commanded, “Control it.”
After a few seconds of silence, a confident answer sounded from within her hood. “I can do it. No, I will do it.”
“Good.”
Mary clenched her fists at Cale’s response; he acted as if he expected nothing less from her.
Cale looked up at the blue expanse above. This dragon would gobble up the wyverns and dominate the eastern sky.