The village had been burning for hours. Most of the wooden houses were reduced to ashes, with only some charred remains left behind. The weaker humans had mostly been burned to death, scattered across the village. Besides the crackling of flames, there was no sound. Oddly enough, a few houses made entirely of clay still stood.
Foolish, pitiful humans.
Actually, when Rang first told the villagers about the treasure, he was already quite drunk. It’s surprising that the villagers managed to get him to spill such a secret. Despite Rang’s warnings, they didn’t deter the villagers; instead, they only strengthened their resolve to steal Steel’s treasure.
But stealing a dragon’s treasure isn’t so easy. It’s said that dragons place spells on their hoards, and even if you manage to steal something, the dragon will know. On this continent, only the boldest and most powerful magicians dare to attempt such a heist. Removing the curses from a dragon’s treasure alone is enough to stump most people.
Yet those with such powerful magic often disdain common treasures. After all, gold and silver are trivial to human elites.
“Just my luck, running into this dragon…” From a small, unassuming wooden house, now reduced to little more than a charred frame, a soot-covered man suddenly emerged from the smoldering wreckage, muttering to himself.
It seemed Rang was right after all. There really was a survivor in the village, someone who had hidden in a cellar and lived. Still, Steel was right too—he didn’t care whether anyone survived. Though dragons were ferocious beasts on this continent, they rarely massacred humans. Most dragons simply didn’t care about humans, much like humans don’t concern themselves with ants. Would a person go out of their way to slaughter ants? Or care about what ants think or do? Even if someone wiped out an entire anthill, they wouldn’t fear retaliation. Dragons’ attitudes toward ordinary humans were similar to this—except for those who wielded great magic or had achieved a saintly level of physical prowess. Most of the time, dragons avoided conflict with humans.
But stealing a dragon’s treasure was a different matter.
The soot-covered man looked at the hellish scene of the village, brushing off the ash from his face and clothes. He headed toward the village well. He was in luck; although the well cover was damaged, the pulley system was still intact, and there was a metal bucket inside.
He drew a bucket of water, first washing his face, then pouring water on some still-smoldering areas. After doing this several times, he stopped and pulled out a leather water pouch from his backpack, filling it from the well. With a sigh, he muttered, “Foolish… all these lives lost for a bit of treasure.”
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Though he looked disdainful, he walked toward a few carts scattered with treasure and squatted down to examine the now even shinier coins, gleaming from the flames.
Wasn’t he afraid of the curses that might be on the treasure? Or did he not know?
Though the man looked disheveled, his clothes were perfectly intact. Judging by his hat and backpack, he was unmistakably a bard.
On this continent, many bards are registered with the kingdom. Their main duties include spreading royal decrees and gathering information from across the land, which they then report back to the Bard’s Guild in the royal city. Because of their official status, registered bards are typically received by kingdom-run administrative institutions wherever they go.
It was clear that this bard had likely been welcomed by the old man who had just died—the village chief. But why hadn’t the bard stopped the villagers from trying to steal the dragon’s treasure? Or maybe he had tried, and they just hadn’t listened?
The bard picked up a few gold coins and softly chanted something. The coins flickered for a moment.
At that moment, Steel, now airborne, seemed to sense something. With a low hum, he spoke to me from his back, “You were right. Someone did survive, and he knows magic. I just sensed that a few tracking spells on the stolen treasure coins have vanished.”
I was gripping tightly onto Steel’s scales, fighting against the wind pressure from his flight. Hearing his voice, which nearly shattered my eardrums, I shouted back, “Got it! I know, we’re almost there!”
The bard had just finished wiping off the gold coins and was about to place them into his bag when a gust of wind suddenly knocked him to the ground. Steel, still in his dragon form, landed with a furious glare at the bard. It was clear that the man’s actions had angered him.
I gracefully leaped off Steel’s back and landed on the ground, facing the man. I asked him, “Who are you? A bard? What’s your name?”
The man seemed frozen as if under a spell. After a long pause, he removed his hat with his right hand, twirled it twice in front of him, and then bowed, giving me a courtly salute. "My name is Barok, esteemed Lord Rang." He then repeated the gesture toward Steel, "And to you as well, esteemed Lord Steel."
"You know us?" I asked, intrigued. It was strange to encounter someone in such an unfamiliar place who recognized me.
"Yes, you are the most powerful magician on this continent," Barok began, then corrected himself, as if remembering something. "Sorry, I mean the most powerful sorcerer. And Lord Steel here is one of the mightiest members of the dragon clan on this continent."
"Well then, Barok, could you explain why you know us?" I asked, curiosity creeping in about this strange bard.
"The royal archives in the capital contain images and information about both of you. During our studies at the Bard Academy, we are taught to remember those on this continent who are powerful and not to be trifled with," Barok explained, bowing once more.
I turned my head toward Steel, my eyes meeting his. In my mind, I asked, "What do you think? Should we question him? There's something odd about him."
Steel nodded slightly. Although his mouth didn’t move, I could hear his voice in my head. "I find him strange too. After all, not just anyone can so easily remove the spells I placed on my treasure."
Hey, I suddenly realized that my magic had returned—I could use telepathy again, and it seemed I could now communicate with Steel this way as well, which made things much more convenient. I sent another thought, "So, do you want to speak first, or should I?"
Steel stared at Barok, trying to read his mind, but surprisingly, Barok had no thoughts at all. He simply waited in silence for us to decide his fate.
"I'd like to have a conversation with you, if that's alright?" I maintained a polite tone, believing that courtesy could yield more useful information.
"Of course, Lord Rang," Barok responded, seeming both pleased and slightly relieved. His voice carried a tone of respect. "It’s an honor to speak with you."
I turned my head to signal to Steel that he could return to his human form. Steel hesitated for a moment but then shrank down, transforming back into the form of a young boy.
(To be continued)