Sun's giant head drooped like a defeated rooster, and he said in a muffled, sullen voice.
"Fine... I'll learn."
"Excellent. I'll have Moonlight and Coal Ball keep you company."
Raylo smiled with satisfaction.
He turned to the petrified Evan.
"Evan, you heard him. Starting tomorrow, you will be Lord Sun's cultural tutor. I'm sure it will be a very... hmm, a very unique teaching experience. Go and prepare."
The Scribe, Evan, felt his legs still trembling. He gave Raylo a stiff, awkward bow, then clutched his ledgers and drifted away rigidly.
As he walked, he couldn't help but wonder, 'If I'm teaching a dragon, do the textbooks need to be made of iron plates?'
'Otherwise, won't a single sneeze burn them all to a crisp?'
Lunch at the castle was lavish and delicious.
Moonlight was enjoying a plate of pan-fried silverfish prepared especially for her. Her delicate tongue lapped up the flesh, her movements a delightful sight.
