"Many, as long as you provide interesting choices."
The voice carried winter's bite and honeyed allure, dancing just beyond comprehension.
"Trust me. It will be... memorable."
Throne caught Melina's frantic eye signals—don't take the bait—and smirked.
"Rare to find someone who enjoys playing the fool, and this one—"
"—is a virtuoso at it!"
Lansseax could teach masterclasses in feigned ignorance. Without that half-Magma Wyrm's timely appearance, Throne might've swallowed her act whole. Now he saw the board clearly: dragonkin hierarchies, their simmering conflicts, every exploitable fracture.
The time has not yet come. No idle boast from some layabout. Throne harbored no racial prejudices. His dealings proved Flying Dragons and Ancient Dragons might as well be different species. The former reeked of primal aggression, making communication—let alone cooperation—a fool's errand.
Greyoll could stall Radahn at best. Expecting more was delusional. He hadn't trekked to Caelid to spectate. The dragonkin—no, Crumbling Farum Azula's sky-bound remnants—would join the coming war. Greyoll couldn't lead them. Lansseax, though? True bloodline. True power.
The choice crystallized. Only the execution made Throne's temples throb. But impossibility had never stopped him before.
"You actually believe her?"
Melina's voice cut through the night. She lay sprawled across the bed, head tilted toward Throne as he leaned against the headboard, eyes shut but restless.
As witness, she'd refused to dematerialize, her suspicion of Lansseax palpable.
"Not entirely. But it's manageable. She's less frightening than you think."
Throne opened his eyes. Sleep was miles away; strategy coiled in his mind.
"Who called her terrifying?"
Melina propped herself up, glancing at the mother dragon snoring on the floor.
"Her motives stink. And her personality's... twisted."
Throne gave her a deadpan stare. You're one to talk.
"That's immortality for you. We've barely established trust."
He shifted, the wood creaking beneath him.
"Think about it—the Dragonlord fades, yet their society holds. Something maintains order. They ruled an age. Even diminished, that strength is useful."
Farum Azula's dragon legion remained formidable, eclipsed only by the Erdtree itself.
"So you'll use her as your pawn?"
Melina chewed her lip. Ancient Dragons outranked demigods in rarity. This particular trickster was a prize. Still, she muttered, "Lansseax won't roll over for you. She's... unpredictable."
"Where there's leverage, there's a way."
Throne's grin turned wry.
"Remember another stubborn soul? Swore she'd die before helping. Just glared and repeated no like a broken chantry bell. Yet here she is."
Melina blinked. Processed. Her eyes widened.
"...Are you talking about me?"
Don't you even have that much self-awareness?
"Not bad. You're learning to play dumb too."
Thwack. Her fist connected with his ribs. He wheezed, rubbing the spot.
"Words exist, you know!"
"You think I'm some blushing maiden? Provoke me, pay the price."
Melina raised her fist again. Throne swallowed his retort.
The woman's temper was flaring dangerously—anger born of shame, escalating into violence. He shifted slightly, keeping his composure, and spoke with deliberate seriousness.
"Alright, alright. At least this dragon can be of use. If we need to find an opponent for Radahn, Greyoll isn't enough. An Ancient Dragon would be more fitting—someone who can follow my plan."
"Didn't Greyoll drive her away?"
"That doesn't change the fact that the Mother of Flying Dragons is nearing the end of her life. Even with history altered, a dying Flying Dragon can't hold General Radahn at bay. Besides, Flying Dragons are too volatile. Without someone to control them, the people of Caelid would suffer."
Throne paused, his voice quiet. He hadn't said everything. Lansseax was notorious. Even if she did nothing, the shadow of Crumbling Farum Azula loomed behind her. Who knew if she might summon reinforcements from the sky city? From Radahn to Leyndell, they'd be forced to divert their full attention to deal with the threat.
"How can you be sure Lansseax will replace Greyoll?"
Melina's curiosity burned brighter than ever. She was even more intrigued that Throne was discussing this with her now. Didn't he always consult the Lunar Princess first?
"By relying on this blade of mine. As for what the other Flying Dragons think—" Throne shot an annoyed glance to the side and muttered, "Idiot. Ancient Dragons have absolute dominance over Flying Dragons. Except for the core group of dragons, why would the rest care?"
It was true. At worst, they could kill the disobedient ones. But Melina's expression darkened. She gritted her teeth and raised her fist.
"Hey, I said use your words, not your hands!"
Morning light filtered through the window. Lansseax stretched, her long tail lifting like a tentacle, deftly brushing through her hair as if it were a comb.
"Haven't slept this comfortably in a long time," she murmured, yawning. Her tail acted like a pole, propping her body upright. She twisted her neck, eliciting a series of cracks.
No, it had been ages since she'd shared a drink and enjoyed herself with someone. The dragon girl smiled faintly. Since the Golden Age faded, heroes had become scarce. Ordinary riffraff weren't worthy of her company. Her golden pupils contracted slightly in the sunlight. When she turned her head, the smile at the corner of her mouth widened. The bed had collapsed.
Throne sat on the edge, his clothes torn, pretending to sleep. Melina had already gone out to buy breakfast. Sensing her gaze, he opened his eyes and met hers.
"You're awake. By the way, what's with that look?"
"Looks like your battle last night was quite intense. Why didn't you wake me?"
Lansseax's tail coiled, pulling off her cloak to reveal the clothes beneath—a black, midriff-baring short robe trimmed with luxurious gold edges and patterns, resembling a priestess's attire. Why did that sound so... suggestive? Among the people Throne had met, except for Sellen, who was utterly oblivious, the rest were reserved. Now, faced with this straightforward woman, he was momentarily stunned. But he quickly realized she was teasing him. If anything had happened, the Ancient Dragon's keen senses would have caught it long ago.
Understanding her game, Throne didn't panic. Instead, he chuckled lightly.
"Call you? To observe or to participate?"
"Oh? I thought you were the kind of rather old-fashioned, proper person." Lansseax said meaningfully. How could he be at a disadvantage in words? If I decide to get frisky, even I'd be scared.
"That depends on who the other party is. Did you think I'd blush with embarrassment?"
Throne sneered. As they say, speak the language of the person you're with. Of course, such words couldn't be said in front of Ranni; that would earn him a taste of the Dark Moon.
"Not to that extent. You're a mentally mature adult male."
The dragon girl raised her hand, tucking her hair behind her long ears, and said with a smile, "But I love dealing with energetic adult males the most."
For a moment, Throne couldn't tell if she was serious or teasing, only feeling that the term 'adult male' was both strange and suggestive. He also pondered from a scientific perspective the connection between 'dragonification' and reproduction. But before he could contemplate the difference between dragon py and human py, Melina returned.
"Caelid's breakfast is so awful. I had to send the cook away and make it myself... Huh? What are you two talking about?"
The girl stood at the door holding a leather pouch, her gaze wary and puzzled, sweeping back and forth. She didn't get an answer. The dragon girl's figure flashed, taking two pancake-like things from the pouch.
"Hey, this is for Throne..."
Melina didn't finish her sentence before seeing the dragon girl stuff the still-steaming pancake into her mouth.
"Tastes good. Didn't expect you to have this skill besides killing people. Mmm, you're interesting too."
Lansseax praised. She had discerned Melina's connection to the Black Knives and hadn't expected those assassins to also make pancakes. A cold-blooded assassin getting up early in the morning to make pancakes. See, isn't that extremely interesting?
"None of your business."
Melina shot her a cold glare, clearly ignoring her.
"Don't be so cold. By the way, you're not very capable. Lying in bed with a man and still letting him have the energy to wake up. Want me to teach you a few tricks?"
Melina stared at her blankly, blinking after a long while: "What are you talking about??"
"Huh? You seem like a child. Come, come, as thanks, I'll give you a little education."
"Enough!"
Throne finally couldn't take it anymore. Melina is still a child! Why talk to her about these things? He had a headache over this bizarre Ancient Dragon and also blamed her for appearing too late. If possible, he should have given Sellen this education instead.
"What are you looking at? Hurry up and eat. We'll leave Caelum soon."
Throne sat down, swept the clutter off the table with a wave, took out a pancake, and took a bite. The taste was naturally excellent. The pancake's surface was crispy, sprinkled with something like sesame seeds. He suspected he kept Melina materialized just for convenience. Lansseax seemed muddled, but she actually knew how to gauge the situation well. When she noticed Throne was genuinely somewhat angry, she shut her mouth and said no more. The meal was relatively peaceful. But as they ate, Throne discovered another problem. Something's off. These two can really eat. He had only eaten two pieces. The rest had been devoured like a whirlwind. And the money for this came from his pocket. Seeing the man's slightly stiff expression, Lansseax, as if she could read minds, immediately said with a smile: "It's fine, I'll cover food and lodging from now on."
That's acceptable. Having one gluttonous Melina already strained my military funds. This kind of thing obviously couldn't be advanced from Ranni.
"But you'll have to wait until I return to my nest in the Altus Plateau. I spent it all yesterday without realizing it."
What? You didn't bring money, yet you were so generous yesterday paying for the whole place? Throne stared at her blankly. The dragon girl responded with a brilliant smile.
"You're not that stingy, are you?"
"Throne is very stingy."
Melina muttered quietly, always believing he made her dematerialize to save money. The man's fierce gaze immediately shot over. Throne rubbed his temples, an idea surfacing. Why does it feel like I've been saddled with someone?
"Sir, they've left."
On the wooden wall, the sharp north wind blew through the long tassels on the Redmane Guard's helmet. Before him, Jerren watched the direction Throne had left. For some reason, this Flowing Swordsman felt somewhat familiar, but he couldn't recall why. In the end, he could only attribute it to having seen too much, perhaps having seen a similar person somewhere.
"Hmm, they're probably crossing the canyon to slay the dragon."
Jerren didn't pay it much mind, just said casually: "This person is quite strong. He might bring some surprises."
The Guard remained silent. As elites carefully selected from the Redmane Knights, their best possessed the power of heroes. They should have perished under the Scarlet Bloom, yet they lived perfectly fine now. The perception of such strong individuals was very sharp. He answered frankly: "Probably not inferior to Lord Ogha. The monsters among the Tarnished are becoming more and more numerous."
"That person is a hero to begin with. Probably older than you. But with these people stirring things up, it makes things difficult for the General." Jerren sighed. The Tarnished could also be divided into ranks. The top among them could already touch the threshold of demigods.
"I wonder, could he be one of the Roundtable Hold?"
"The intelligence reports never mentioned anyone from that nation being part of the Roundtable Hold. They've been making quite a stir in Limgrave recently. That 'Sir Gideon Ofnir' is somewhat formidable."
Jerren stroked his messy beard, clearly having been observing the outside movements. Limgrave and Liurnia had already changed rulers. Even if Caelid weren't restrained, the path to becoming Elden Lord was full of thorns. The men of the Redmane Army were all pragmatists. The Guard didn't boast about crushing them all, but his expression grew more serious.
"Limgrave has changed masters, Liurnia has been unified, and we are still stuck in Caelid, guarding futilely."
"Want to go out and achieve glory?"
"Who wouldn't? But guarding the General is our most important duty."
The Redmane Guard could clearly suppress his ambition. Over the years, they had been very unwilling, but they hadn't wasted time. Protecting the people of Caelid was also their obligation, and they had performed it well. Jerren pondered for a moment and asked casually: "You just came from Redmane Castle. How is the General's condition?"
"The lingering poison remains. Being close to the Scarlet Bloom isn't so easy to cleanse. But recently, the drowsiness has lessened a lot. According to the physicians, the General isn't suffering as much either, even drinking less wine."
The Guard's face was full of respect. That kind of pain was enough to drive ordinary people mad, yet General Radahn had endured it.
"That's much better. No wonder the Radahn Festival is being held."
Jerren breathed a sigh of relief, his heart also full of frustration. Caelid and the Haligtree were the biggest losers of The Shattering. If both were still intact, Liurnia and Limgrave wouldn't dare make a move. Precisely because the great beasts were licking their wounds, the other side dared to seize the opportunity to cause trouble. But thinking about it carefully, Malenia was probably even worse off, which made him feel a bit better.
"The General's plan has already begun. Just wait, the Redmane will soon bare its fangs."
"You mean this festival?"
"Hmm. Tarnished, warriors, Flying Dragons, and those Kindred of Rot... this is a grand play. Let them slaughter each other."
Jerren looked at the chunks of meat being buried in the ground and slapped the wooden wall heavily.
"And the first step is to take control of all of Caelid. The General will lead you to Leyndell to finish what we started ten years ago."
His voice cracked like dry kindling.
"This time, no Valkyrie stands in our way!"
Noon bled through the Erdtree's golden leaves. Two figures and a dragon cast elongated shadows across the cobblestones. Throne glanced back—Caelum had shrunk to a speck in the distance, barely visible. His sigh carried the weight of unfinished business. With that stinky dragon around, he hadn't had time to wander properly through the city's labyrinthine alleys. The scent of spiced meat from a vendor's stall made his stomach growl. He snatched a skewer, tossed coins, and marched onward. Lansseax's talons scraped stone as she nudged Melina with her snout. Throne watched them, fingers tightening around his purchase. The dragon's intentions were as clear as mud.