Mira felt a deep sense of sadness.

For a brief moment, when she saw the woman who had been so gentle just moments ago suddenly wear an expression of resentment, Mira felt an ache in her heart.

She wasn't sure if she should tell them that this wasn't the king's conscription. She didn't even know who had taken the townspeople. She was afraid that speaking carelessly might lead to false hope.

When expectations are shattered, it only brings more despair.

She clenched her fist, and the medium in her pocket warmed slightly, responding to her emotions.

Lance, standing beside her, furrowed his brows. His heartbeat quickened, likely due to the connection between his scales and Mira.

He raised his head and looked at Mira.

She appeared somewhat lost.

Lance had never seen Mira so uncertain. Although their time together hadn't been long, the blue dragon knew she was an unusual girl with many thoughts. Back in the tower, she had been agile and full of life.

Even the King of the Blue Dragons had to be careful in his words and actions, fearing that even a tiny slip might expose his identity in front of the girl standing before him.

Her eyes always sparkled with a joyful light, like bright stars.

But in this moment, the starlight seemed dimmed, clouded by a mist. She stood still, unsure of what to do.

Lance slightly nodded. He wanted to help Mira, because he didn't like seeing the hesitation and uncertainty on her face.

"It's not the king who took your husbands or sons, nor is it the magic dragon," a sudden voice echoed through the first floor of the inn, amplified by magic.

The sound reverberated, making it difficult for the women to immediately determine its source. They turned, searching the room, and finally saw the blue-haired man standing in the corner.

He leaned against the wall, tall and muscular.

There were many young men like him in the village, but they had all been taken just recently. Those who resisted were struck with large clubs, the size of a bowl, on their backs, waists, and the backs of their knees. These rebels were forced to kneel, unable to move, and then bound up and thrown onto a cart.

This man was clearly an outsider. His build resembled that of a hero, but he carried no longsword.

Lance struggled to take a step, his body swaying. Mira quickly rushed to his side and supported him.

"The people who took them are not soldiers," the blue dragon said, scanning the women around him. "The clothes they wear were stolen."

"Do you have any proof?" one woman asked. She clearly saw that Mira was with him, and if Mira was a princess’s maid, then anyone standing with her could be assumed to be aligned with the king.

Lance met her gaze, and the pressure of the dragon's presence made the woman feel an unnamed fear. She was brave, however, and despite the fear, she had no intention of backing down.

"I have no proof."

Mira thought Lance would reveal to the women the information they had bought, but instead, he simply gave a blatantly frustrating answer.

She sighed and tugged on Lance’s arm, softly reminding him, "You can’t say it like that." For the women who had just endured a catastrophe, his words seemed too rude.

Lance hadn't thought there was anything wrong, but Mira’s cautious gesture made him feel a twinge of guilt.

The blue dragon expressionlessly extended his other hand, palm open, and a ball of crimson flame appeared in his hand.

"Can this be considered proof?"

The appearance of the magic drew gasps from the women.

The women lived in a remote village far from the center of the world, but that didn’t mean they were ignorant.

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Magic, spellcasters—such an identity was enough to confirm the truth of the man’s words.

A spellcaster had no need to deceive them. They couldn't offer any rewards, nor would they be worth lying to.

A knowledgeable woman stepped forward from the crowd. She placed a hand on the shoulder of the sobbing rice shop owner, her long eyes scanning Mira and Lance up and down.

"Where are you two from? The Magic Hub? Or the Blade of Truth?"

Mira was surprised by the mention of these organizations—the most prestigious mage associations in the world today. There were many other smaller associations, but these were the most well-known.

"No," Lance calmly denied. "I am a free mage, not affiliated with any school or organization."

"Without a mage association's guarantee, how can we trust you?" The woman seemed to be the most respected person in the room. As soon as she spoke, the other women took heart.

"I know that almost all the people living in this town are descendants of heroes. If you have a true sword used by a hero, you should be able to tell if I'm lying." Lance calmly gave his suggestion to the women.

He had fought against heroes before and knew some secrets about them.

Mortal bodies couldn't resist the magical forces of nature. To avoid more unnecessary casualties, the ancestors of the heroes had once sought the help of the dragon clan.

From the blue dragons, spellcasters learned how to harness magic from nature and how to protect themselves using mediums. Meanwhile, the heroes learned how to transform pure human willpower into external strength.

Just like spellcasters need mediums, the heroes' power was also embodied in their swords. However, the weapon's design was not strictly uniform. Lance had seen long swords, bows, and even grappling hooks. Similar to magic mediums, the weapons weren't the deciding factor in becoming a powerful hero, but they were an important part of their strength.

The soul of a hero was composed of all the good virtues that humans could imagine: kindness, humility, bravery, integrity, and so on. The most important of these virtues was their steadfast belief in justice and their hatred for evil.

Heroes always stepped forward in the face of danger, and their repeated courage was absorbed by their weapons, making them stronger each time.

There were rumors that somewhere in the world was a sacred land where many true heroes’ swords were buried. Heroes called this place the Sword Burial Mound.

A true hero's sword.

After hearing this, many of the women in the room shifted their gazes to the woman facing Lance.

This woman was the widow of Fran Ellin, a famous dragon slayer. Before marrying the renowned dragon slayer, she had run a tavern in a southern city, where, on the surface, she served drinks and simple meals, but in reality, it was a black-market intermediary for mercenaries and bounty hunters.

Logically, honest and rigid heroes would never step into such a place, but she had met heroes, married one, and had two sons and a daughter with him before Fran Ellin was burned to death by dragon fire.

Her eldest son had also been a hero, but he died in an adventure. Her second son, now seventeen, was clamoring to join the Hero Association and become a true hero. Her young daughter, only thirteen, also enjoyed swordplay like her father and brothers, often chasing older boys around town with a stick.

Mira quietly observed the woman confronting Lance. She wore simple homespun clothes, and her brown curly hair was tied up at the back of her head. Although wrinkles had inevitably appeared on her face, it was still evident that she had been a beauty in her youth.

She met Lance’s gaze without fear, remaining calm.

But Mira knew that her children had also been taken. She had seen the young man claiming to be a hero—Ellin.

As a mother, she must be heartbroken.

"Lady Ellin," someone couldn't help but speak up. They knew there was a true hero's sword in the town that hadn't been sent to the Sword Burial Mound yet. "Try using your husband’s sword."

As the first voice spoke, more voices joined in.

The woman pursed her lips. She knew this was the only trustworthy option available.

Not just her—these women had all lost their husbands and children. Though there was still a group of adventurers out there who hadn't returned, she knew no one could say when they would come back, and there was no guarantee that those taken would survive until their return.

"Follow me," Lady Ellin said, glancing at Lance and Mira. As a former black-market intermediary, she had a sharp eye for people. She could immediately tell that the man and woman before her lacked experience in completing missions, but their strength was undeniable.

They seemed more like students of an academy on an adventure than seasoned adventurers who fought for their lives. The girl, she guessed, wasn’t just a maid.

Ellin hoped that her actions would bring some comfort to the other women. Before her youngest son was taken, she had secretly applied a tracking scent to his clothes, and with the right bees trained in the scent, she could learn where he had been taken.

She had originally planned to ask some mercenaries she knew for help, but now someone had gotten there first, and she wanted to see what would happen.

Lady Ellin knew what it meant to be a spellcaster. A spellcaster who wasn’t controlled by an association was strong and free. If he could lend a hand, it would be a huge help.

Lady Ellin led the way, followed by a crowd of women.

Mira supported Lance, bringing up the rear.

"Are you sure about this?" she asked, a little concerned. While she wanted to help the townspeople with this issue, Lance's legs hadn't fully healed.

He was putting most of his weight on her, and if something unexpected happened, Lance wouldn’t be able to run.

"Don’t worry," the blue dragon wanted to tell Mira that his legs were nearly healed. They had just healed so quickly that it didn’t match his human appearance, so he had to pretend to limp.

With that, the blue dragon shifted his arm off Mira’s shoulder to ease the weight on her.

Mira thought for a moment and said, "I still have two magic crystals left. I can cast healing again." She didn’t dare use the scales to perform this magic, as dragon scales were useful but often led to unintended consequences beyond the magic itself.

"Don’t waste them on me. Save them for emergencies."

"It’s not a waste..." Mira whispered. "I’m willing to."