Throne glanced at the tavern owner coming over to light a candle. He wasn't suddenly in a hurry; it was just that his teacher was too bold. If he went back now, he'd likely be pestered until his head throbbed. Dismantling the Ranni doll for research? Did she want to be frozen into an ice sculpture? Understanding that the doll wasn't that simple, Throne prepared to stall. In any case, with Sellen's personality, she would completely forget about it once the novelty wore off. He pulled out a handful of Runes and slapped them on the table.
The owner's eyes lit up as he reached for them, only to be held down firmly by Throne. "My Lord, you are..." The tavern owner exerted a little force with his hand, but found it wouldn't budge an inch. He instantly realized that this youthful and elegant teenager wasn't some fat sheep to be fleeced. "I'm giving triple the Runes." "Ah, that is your kindness, My Lord! May the Erdtree bless you forever!" "Cut the chatter. Sit down. The extra money is a consultation fee." Throne pointed to the booth opposite him.
The tavern owner's face first flashed with a fierce look, then he looked longingly at the Runes on the table before finally sitting down. Throne hadn't come just for a drink. Information exchanged fastest in places with such mixed company. It could be said that every tavern or brothel owner was an intelligence broker; opportunities were hidden within their boasts. Although he didn't need to look for map fragments, he didn't have the time to search everywhere one by one. "Tell me, is there anything strange or any unusual stories about Limgrave?"
The owner breathed a sigh of relief; he had thought this person was going to ask about the Lord's troop dispositions. He glanced at the Runes and scratched his head, which had few hairs left. "There are so many guests coming and going from north to south, how can I remember so many strange things?"
Clatter—
Another handful of Runes was scattered on the table. The owner's memory suddenly improved, and he began to tell weird stories in a rambling tone. Many weren't to be taken seriously, and some, like the dementia-like illness, were no longer fresh.
Throne only cross-referenced them with his memories and recorded the useful parts. The Misbegotten of Castle Morne, unable to endure the torture, had begun to escape, with some drifting into Limgrave to commit robberies. Strange sounds had started appearing in the nearby Fringefolk Hero's Grave; militia members who ran in to investigate never came out. Over by Fort Haight, a strange golden tree had sprouted, and a priest was leading people on a pilgrimage. And in Summonwater Village to the north, strange singing could always be heard; people drawn there would turn into monsters.
There were also strange birds flying around in the night, snatching away the souls of the living. All sorts of things like this were happening. As more time passed since the shattering of the elden ring, strange occurrences began to appear throughout The Lands Between. Ordinary people treated them as ghost stories, but Throne's expression was serious.
Within these tales were racial hatreds between humans and Misbegotten, traces of Those Who Live in Death, the Erdtree's own attempts at self-preservation, and one that should be the legendary Death Rite Bird. 'Setting the Misbegotten aside for now, I should keep an eye on Those Who Live in Death and the Minor Erdtree. Perhaps they can confirm my suspicions?'
Throne bit his pen. When he saw the priest performing incantations, he had a sensation that he might be able to use them too.
Thinking it over, the only thing linked to 'Faith' was that Ulcerated Tree Spirit, and the power of death within it could be verified through Those Who Live in Death. So, should he go chop the tree first, or go to Summonwater Village? He was hesitating when he saw the owner looking like he wanted to say something but was holding back, prompting him to raise an eyebrow. "Is there something else you haven't said?" "Uh, no, really nothing else." Throne didn't waste words and scattered another handful of Runes. The owner was tempted but still held back, gritting his teeth.
"This concerns the village. The Lords have issued a gag order, forbidding us from telling outsiders. I, Old Jack, have always been law-abiding—" He paused and reached out his right hand:
"So the Lord needs to pay more." Damn it, he really knows how to do business. Throne pulled out another handful of Runes, his gaze sharp as a blade: "I hope your next words have value." "Of course they have value. The ones before were just hearsay, but this matter is real." Old Jack leaned forward, the candlelight making his bald head shine brilliantly. "You saw those marks outside the village, didn't you?
Actually, those were left by a dragon..."
Roar—
A blurred sound came from the sky. Old Jack's voice stopped abruptly, and he froze in his seat. Hmm? What sound? Throne, who had been focused, also looked toward the ceiling. He heard a familiar sound, and gradually, his eyes widened. The sound of wind mixed with a unique screeching—he had heard it countless times in Liurnia. "Oh no, that wicked dragon is back!" The tavern owner sitting opposite him jumped up, not even bothering to collect the Runes covering the table, and bolted for the exit. "What? The wicked dragon is here!"
The tavern fell into chaos. People scrambled to get out, many not even having time to put on clothes. Some didn't forget to snatch a wine bottle while fleeing. Then, the church bells began to ring. Clang, clang, clang...
The piercing toll of the bell mixed with the dragon's roar as panic spread rapidly. Is this what they call a jinx? Throne reacted immediately. He had just been thinking about dragons.
Glancing at the crowded tavern door, he raised his fist, currents of air swirling around his knuckles, and slammed it violently into the wall. Bang!
A large hole was punched directly through the brick wall. In reality, a powerhouse wouldn't be blocked by a wooden door. Throne burst through the wall and saw the once peaceful village in utter chaos. Everywhere, panicked people were fleeing their homes, screams and cries blending together. Militia members who had just donned their armor climbed the watchtowers.
The church doors were thrown open, with several priests standing at the entrance guiding the crowd to take cover. The incident was sudden, but the villagers' evacuation speed was extremely fast; it clearly wasn't their first time. Before Throne could figure out the situation, he felt the sky suddenly light up. A pillar of fire sprayed down from the sky, instantly igniting the wooden wall on the outskirts of the village. A few unlucky souls running too slowly immediately became screaming human torches. By the light of the fire, Throne saw a massive creature gliding through the sky.
A Flying Dragon? But not the one from the Academy. This dragon's scales were pitch black, and it was slightly larger than the two Glintstone Dragons. What it breathed wasn't Glintstone breath either. A blast of flame swept past him, the scorching heat wave forcing him back several steps. Throne finally knew who had left the destruction at the edge of the village, but the situation was inevitably strange. Why would a Flying Dragon attack humans? And since it wasn't the first time, why hadn't the local Lord sent knights to defend the place?
With no time for deep thought, Throne immediately ran toward the village outskirts. He was surrounded by people fleeing in panic, yet the dragon in the sky was strange; facing the crowd, it didn't breathe a single puff of dragonfire down on them. It was at this moment that a militia member on the watchtower finally couldn't take the heavy pressure and released his bowstring. Swish, swish...
Several arrows flew into the sky, bouncing harmlessly off the dragon's wings.
Perhaps feeling its status as the overlord of the skies was being challenged, the dragon spread its wings and roared at the heavens. Roar—
The dragon's roar was deafening. The militia members all covered their ears, and before they could react, the dragon dove down. Boom!!
The several-meter-high watchtower shattered like toy blocks. Logs bounced away, crushing several people who couldn't dodge in time. Throne used Bloodhounds Step to leap aside, his expression darkening as he looked at the person pinned under a log.
Blood was spreading on the ground, and the person with pinned legs was screaming. When Throne looked up again, the dragon had already flown back into the sky. After circling twice and finding no one else dared to challenge its majesty, it flapped its wings and flew east. What the hell is going on? Throne's hand froze on his ring. He had been prepared to draw his blade and counterattack, but the dragon had actually flown away. No one could catch a Flying Dragon if it wanted to escape. The swordsman stood frozen in place, his mind filled with question marks.
It came without warning and left without warning. He thought it was going to slaughter the village, but it turned out to be all bark and very little bite. It burned a section of the wooden wall, knocked down a watchtower, and caused dozens of casualties. The damage was neither great nor small. With a dragon's intelligence, it shouldn't be doing something so nonsensical. "Apprentice, what's going on?" Sellen ran over barefoot, holding her staff, her face full of impatience. She hated being interrupted during her research most of all. "I don't know either.
I was just drinking when this dragon arrived. Then, before I could even move, it suddenly fled." Throne threw up his hands and pointed at the shadow on the horizon, asking, "So, are there any idiots among Flying Dragons?" "How is that possible? They are high-intelligence creatures. If it had fallen into a frenzy, not a single person in this village would be left alive." Sellen had never encountered such a thing either; at least, she hadn't seen it in books. Throne pinched his chin, his eyes narrowing slightly as he saw villagers running out nearby to move the logs and save people.
"In other words, it came to cause destruction while fully conscious. I remember books saying Flying Dragons are lazy by nature; they wouldn't come out in the middle of the night to pull pranks for no reason." "Indeed, they are by no means mischievous children." "Then it gets interesting. Do you know what this kind of behavior is usually called?" Throne didn't wait for Sellen to ask; he went to help lift a log while answering:
"It's called a demonstration of power." "A demonstration? I don't think the humans here are worth that much." The witch quickly caught up to him. "I think so too."
Throne tossed a two-hundred-pound log aside with one hand, his eyes reflecting the burning wooden wall as he lightly patted his hands. "So, this is worth investigating."
In the early morning, the burning fires had been extinguished. The charred wooden walls were emitting light smoke, and a group of men, women, and children were weeping outside. Before them were several newly buried grave mounds. Throne stood on a rooftop watching quietly. This scene made the lively tavern of last night feel like an illusion. After the anesthesia of alcohol wore off, the light smoke and graves pulled people back to reality. This was the cruel reality after the shattering of the elden ring.
In The Lands Between, where human life was as cheap as grass, too many civilians, soldiers, and even nobles and priests had lost their lives. In a sense, being killed by bandits, slaughtered by chaotic armies, or burned to a crisp by a Flying Dragon made no difference. And this wasn't even the peak of despair. When their bodies decayed yet they still couldn't die, many would likely envy those burned to death by the dragon for escaping the never-ending pain.
Thinking of this, Throne looked toward the Erdtree for the umpteenth time and murmured to himself, "Life and death, neither can be controlled by oneself. Is this the Law you have established?" "Apprentice, I've figured it out." At this time, Sellen climbed onto the roof somewhat clumsily, dusting off her blue dress. "By the way, why do you always like to come to such high places?" "Standing high allows one to see far, which helps me think." Sellen gave him a suspicious look and snorted, "You didn't pick up that bad habit from that princess, did you?" You actually saw through it.
Throne coughed twice and maintained his calm expression. "That's not important. So, what exactly is the deal with that Flying Dragon?" "I asked the priest at the church. This dragon is named 'Agheel.' It usually stays in the nearby Agheel Lake and has been peaceful for many years. But two months ago, it suddenly started attacking surrounding villages." Sellen caught her breath and continued:
"The damage it causes each time isn't severe, and as long as it isn't attacked, it generally doesn't kill people. Hey, are you listening?"
Throne looked toward the east upon hearing the name 'Agheel.' There was a massive lake there; this was an old acquaintance. "Yes, I'm listening. Did the priest say why the local Lord is ignoring it?" The Lands Between employed a feudal system. As the saying goes, 'my vassal's vassal is not my vassal.' As the owner of Limgrave, Godrick had actually divided the territory into many pieces. "He said the local nobles were managing it at first and had sent knights to drive it away. However, they suddenly washed their hands of it last month.
I heard they're letting the dragon destroy things while they ran off to Stormveil Castle to join the battle." "Last month?" Throne pinched his chin. Wasn't that during the Siege of Stormveil? On the surface, there was no problem because Godrick had certainly summoned his subordinate nobles to war, only to be beaten into submission by the Valkyrie. But he felt this matter wasn't that simple. As long as the nobles requested to deal with the dragon, Malenia would definitely allow it. This seemed more like active avoidance, shifting the blame onto the Haligtree Army.
Did the Lords of Limgrave want the Haligtree Army to leave quickly, or use this as an opportunity to reduce logistical support? Yes, that thought likely existed. He never overestimated the morality of nobles. Malenia's current logistical supplies were entirely provided by Limgrave; it could be said she was taking food from the local nobles' mouths. Every extra day she stayed, their losses grew. And the battle between the Valkyrie and the Starscourge brought them zero benefit, so of course they would try every means to find an excuse.
The nobles' schemes weren't hard to understand, but why would the dragon actively cooperate? It was impossible to say there was some kind of shady deal between the two. Flying Dragon, Flying Dragon... wait! "Teacher, what is the social structure of Flying Dragons like?" Sellen was nearby, bored and throwing pebbles. As a human encyclopedia, she thought for a few seconds before giving an answer: "They are both social and solitary." "Please explain."
"It means Flying Dragons generally act individually, but they are also members of the dragon race and possess a simple system similar to a 'tribe.'"
Dragons with human-level intelligence—of course they'd have a social structure. Throne leaned forward, urgency sharp in his voice. "Who leads them?"
"That's complicated." Sellen pinched her chin, her slender eyebrows tightening. "Too much time has passed. The dragon race has dwindled. When a dynasty falls, its people scatter. The survivors... they forge their own paths."
"Ancient Dragons are rare now," she continued. "But if you're searching for a leader, Greyoll might be it. The Elder Dragon. Legend says her body gleams white, her size matches a mountain, her wings blot out the sky." "Where is she?" Throne cut in, impatient. Sellen snorted. "You could stand to appreciate a good story." She gestured east, toward the jagged peaks and shimmering lakes. "Caelid." Throne nodded slowly, piecing it together. Cleanrot Knight Ivan's words came back to him.
Radahn was increasing his efforts to deal with the dragons in his rear, clearing the threat so he could focus entirely on Malenia. It made sense. Without a strong enemy at his flank, Radahn might not have swallowed Limgrave, but he'd at least have pushed the front lines this far. No one fights a decisive battle in their own backyard.