Chapter 6. Offer Up Your Loyalty
The shadow-drenched stronghold of Dol Guldur.
The Defiler, Azog, strode across the ancient bridge with a swagger that acknowledged no one, stopping several paces before the swirling black mist.
"Smaug has awakened," came Sauron's distant, cavernous voice.
"He has refused to cooperate with me."
Azog didn't hesitate for a second.
"Then I'll go and butcher it."
"It knows about Dol Guldur," Sauron said, his tone growing heavier with irritation.
"It knows what we are doing."
"How could it possibly know?" Azog frowned, genuinely confused.
"I do not yet have that answer," Sauron replied coldly.
"But I still need it."
After a brief pause, he issued his command:
"Send word. Search throughout Mordor for gold and gemstones. The more, the better."
Azog fell silent.
Then he understood.
"…We're going to buy it off?"
"Do it," Sauron said flatly, offering no explanation.
The black mist dissipated.
Azog said nothing more. He turned away, his face twisted with ferocity, casting a long look toward the direction of the Lonely Mountain.
When the great army marches, he swore inwardly, I'll cut off Smaug's dragon head and turn it into a wine cup.
---
A new day dawned.
The sun rose.
Early that morning, Bard led more than twenty strong men, along with tools, out of Dale toward the lakeshore.
Erecting a boundary marker wasn't complicated.
All they needed were a few flat stones—carve words into them, then set them firmly into the earth.
Before long, Bard's group was hard at work.
At the same time, back in Dale, sheep were being slaughtered one after another.
"We only have so many sheep," a woman said reluctantly.
"Killing them all at once… where are we supposed to find more afterward?"
"We'll have to try Mirkwood," someone replied.
"We have gold now—we should be able to buy them."
The words carried little real hope.
"We'll need to buy a lot of sheep," another person muttered, then glanced nervously toward the Lonely Mountain and lowered their voice.
"Smaug is that huge… how many sheep do you think he eats in one meal?"
That was a very good question.
The women fell silent for a moment, then began chattering nervously as they tried to calculate it.
---
Time passed, and noon arrived.
Deep beneath the Lonely Mountain—
[Dragon Kingdom established. Mission complete.]
[Bronze Blind Box delivered to storage.]
Smaug, who had been sleeping, sensed the notification.
Because he had loved opening blind boxes even before transmigrating, he snapped his eyes open at once, excitement bubbling up.
Open it!
[You have opened a Bronze Blind Box.]
[You have obtained: One Advanced Farming Manual, and a large quantity of fruit and vegetable seeds.]
"?????"
Smaug froze.
What… was this supposed to be?
I am a mighty evil dragon—and you want me to...farm?
"Bronze blind boxes really are trash," Smaug muttered, half amused and half exasperated.
The moment the words left his mouth—
[New Quest: Obtain 20,000 Loyalty Points from citizens
(Each citizen can contribute up to 100 points of loyalty).]
[Reward: Bronze Blind Box (Upgraded).]
Smaug blinked.
Then suddenly—everything clicked.
Now he understood the purpose of the farming manual and the seeds.
Judging from the original films… Middle-earth's food situation wasn't terrible, but it was hardly good either.
The Shire and Bree were doing relatively fine.
Most other places? Not so much.
Lake-town had it worst of all.
The humans who had now moved to Dale—what exactly had they been eating for the past several decades?
With this farming manual and these seeds—
Asking those humans to offer a bit of loyalty suddenly seemed perfectly reasonable.
As for why loyalty was needed?
That was even simpler.
If the citizens weren't loyal, this newly founded Dragon Kingdom would be nothing more than an empty shell. When Sauron or the Dwarves came knocking, the people of Dale would probably shout—
"Sir! I'll show you the way—this way, please!"
The image popped into Smaug's mind, and he couldn't help laughing.
After laughing—
Fine. Time to get to work.
Smaug rose to his feet and, not long after, flew out of the Lonely Mountain.
---
Bard and his group had just finished erecting the border marker and were heading back to Dale, exhausted.
Smaug spotted them from the air and descended straight down.
At once—
Bard, as always, lifted his chin and stood tall, stubbornly unyielding.
The others reacted very differently—some instinctively scattered, others dropped to the ground and covered their heads.
There was no helping it.
Their fear of Smaug was etched deep into their souls.
"Lord Bard," Smaug said cheerfully after landing,
"I'm very pleased that you completed the task."
Bard said nothing.
His eyes were locked tightly on the wound on Smaug's belly.
Smaug noticed, of course—but chose not to comment.
He took the farming manual and seeds out of his storage and placed them on the ground.
"This is a farming manual, and these are fruit and vegetable seeds," Smaug said calmly.
"From now on, I want you, Lord Bard, to lead the people in reclaiming land and farming—so everyone can eat fresh vegetables and fruit as soon as possible."
The moment the words fell—
"?????"
Bard's mind went blank.
The other trembling humans were just as stunned.
"???"
One second.
Two seconds.
Almost everyone present, with uncanny synchronization, felt desire well up inside them.
Fresh vegetables.
Fruit.
Those were far more precious than beef or mutton…
Many people couldn't help imagining it—some were practically drooling.
"Oh, right," Smaug suddenly asked, a hint of malicious amusement creeping in,
"Lord Bard, you can read, can't you?"
That snapped Bard out of his daze.
His expression darkened instantly.
"I can read!"
"Haha—good," Smaug laughed.
He said nothing more, spread his wings, and took off toward Mirkwood.
He had already planned to visit that neighbor, Thranduil, today for a little chat.
Now, thanks to the new quest, he had an even better reason.
---
Mirkwood
Most of the near-immortal Elves continued their repetitive, unchanging lives—
Until the sharp blast of a horn rang out.
In an instant, every Elf in Mirkwood tensed and sprang into motion.
"Why has the alarm sounded?"
"What's happening?"
"I don't know—wait—look!"
"Smaug is coming!!"
High above, Smaug's massive form drew closer and closer.
The Elvenking Thranduil rushed to the highest point of his realm, frowning deeply as he stared at the approaching dragon.
The Elven Prince Legolas, bow on his back, arrived only moments later.
"Father—it's here!"
"I can see that," Thranduil snapped.
"Pass the order—prepare for battle!"
Legolas didn't know how one was supposed to fight a dragon, but he still turned and ran to relay the command.
Thranduil remained where he stood, his brow knitting tighter and tighter.
At the same time—
Memories of a nightmare from countless years ago—left by another evil dragon—surfaced uncontrollably.
As the nightmare sharpened, the hideous scars on Thranduil's face became starkly visible.
Thranduil felt fear.
---