It probably wasn’t a good idea to just drop solutions like these so casually, but Benjamin had already given himself a break over it. He would gladly make untangling himself from all this and getting everything back to normal that much harder, just so long as the alternative was avoided. Clean up would always be preferable to rebuilding from the ground up after all.

Not like he had to explain the how or why either, nor did he even really need to accompany Kinsoriel. He could probably even do this all on his own a bit faster, but having him close by meant he could minimize any impacts he would need to correct later.

What actually did occupy his mind as they tread towards the giant cave was a more important question; how had Harax found his book? Just as he was supposed to be completely undetectable, it shouldn’t have been possible for anyone else in this world to see it. Whatever had allowed for this to happen in the first place could probably be blamed for that as well, though he was still completely in the dark as to what that actually is.

“Little author, what is it you write of?” Kinsoriel asked, still looking forward.

Benjamin looked up at the dragon suspiciously. “What was that? I didn’t quite catch it.”

There was a low rumble that had emanated from the dragon’s throat at this, but he reiterated nonetheless. “What is the subject of your writings?”

So he did say that. It was unexpected to have such a mundane question asked of him, given who had asked it. He would have expected angry comments or deriding put downs, and that was if he decided he would talk at all. This was eerily pleasant of him. He decided that he may as well answer him.

“Well, I like making stories about flawed characters overcoming their flaws. Happy endings and all that.”

It was silent between the two for a while, before Kinsoriel audibly grit his teeth. “Is that really all you have to say?” the dragon complained.

Of course it was. No matter how lax he felt disclosing events for this world, he’d be out of his mind to say anything regarding any others. He could still come out of this with some amount of dignity if any of his peers caught on. If he told this fantasy character about high end technology and out of universe concepts, he could kiss that goodbye. He didn’t lie though, he really did enjoy stories that had happy ends.

“I’ll tell you more about them later, they don’t seem like your type.”

Kinsoriel stopped to give Benjamin one of his many looks of frustration. He then gave it up, simply saying, “Very well.”

That was easier than he expected it would be. Something still seemed a bit off about it though. “Why do you ask anyway?”

He half expected his question to fall on deaf ears, but this was not the case as the dragon spoke up.

“Once we conclude our business, I will have your book for myself. I simply wanted to know how I should categorize it.” Benjamin looked on with lowered eyebrows and a slight scowl as the arrogant lizard continued. “It is an honor you don’t deserve of course, but I shall make an exception.”

Okay then, that was still on brand for him. It was unlikely that the dragon had just started to believe in his authordom, so maybe it was just an urge to be petty.

“That’s not happening.” he said defyingly.

Benjamin caught a short lived and malicious grin from the dragon before going back to a neutral look. “It’s comical that you think you have a choice.”

He felt like saying something, but didn’t. Let him have his moments for now, they wouldn’t last. When everything is back to the way it should be, he’ll get a nice dose of character development. Humility is in your future dragon, you can count on it.

----------------------------------------

He couldn’t wait. Kinsoriel could barely hide his glee at the thought of getting rid of this thorn in his side. It didn’t matter if that book he kept whining about existed or not, the dragon would shelve just about anything as long as it reminded him of his triumph. He wasn’t picky when it came to his trophies after all, it’s the thought that counts.

Based on where they were currently, he estimated that it would take until nightfall before they reached Harax. They could be there in minutes if he felt like carrying this living burden, but he would rather not. He could still come out of this with some amount of dignity if he handled the situation correctly. If another dragon witnessed him serving a deathbound, let alone letting Harax see such a sight, he might never hear the end of it. If it went really bad, he may even be labeled a Canon Breaker. At least having this extra sliver of time would allow him to think of how he would ask for assistance.

They both mostly kept to themselves save for Kinsoriel’s question, not really conversing in any significant way. Then there was a loud rumbling from the black dragon’s stomach. Famished. It occurred to him that he hadn’t been able to save any of his food from the tower, and the last time he had eaten was before that vile group of arsonists had come around. As much as he would like to get this over with as soon as possible, he couldn’t ignore his hunger.

“Little author,” he called over as he stopped, “you will wait here while I go hunt.”

The man shrugged and sat on a log nearby. With some galloping movements, the dragon sped off in search of some quick pickings. He followed the trail of what seemed to be a pack of deer, scents, hoof prints, and disturbed foliage. As he neared, he slowed down immensely and began to prepare.

In a tone softer than average, he cast a variety of spells upon himself. Silent Step, which covered his feet and hands in sound blocking mana. Transparent Body, which made the dragon almost see through. And Scent Scrub, keeping his scents close to him and not on the wind. This was the hunting method of a smart dragon, an efficient dragon.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

This string of spells ended up making him a bit fatigued, a surprise to him. He wondered how he could possibly begin feeling tired after casting only three minor spells, before remembering his predicament. If he had a smaller body, he would also have a smaller reserve of mana. If there weren’t so much else thrown at him today, he’d bite his own tail for forgetting such a big thing.

Having finished his preparations though, he stalked closer towards his prey. Just as he had guessed, it was a pack of deer. They were busy grazing in the middle of the clearing, with not a single care in the world. Ripe for the taking. He inched closer, salivating more and more with every step. When he finally got within striking distance, another smell came to him. It smelled like a-

BOOOOOOOOOOM

-dragon. While the dust gradually cleared, all that could be seen was the silhouette of said dragon and the two mangled deer in its clutches. Kinsoriel didn’t need to see anything though; the full bodied laughter that came out of the cloud revealed who it was in an instant.

“Harax.” Kinsoriel said while stepping forward, dismissing his spells at the same time.

“Hmm? Who’s there?”

The shape of Harax inhaled for a moment, blowing away the remaining dust. When it had all finally gone away, the gigantic form of the orange dragon was revealed. Worshippers of Valorian were usually on the larger end of dragons, and Harax was no different. Even at his original height, Harax outsized him by a good few feet. As he was now, it was like looking up at his parents. He had a much thicker frame as well, in contrast to Kinsoriel’s more slender figure.

“Kinsoriel? Is that you?” Harax said incredulously while looking down on the shrunken dragon.

“Yes, it is I. I am in need of your assistance.”

Instead of keeping a serious look about him, Harax went back to laughing. Oh wait, he was actually laughing harder than he was before. If he didn’t have a use for the lummox, Kinsoriel wouldn’t bother. Seeing as he did, he held his tongue for the moment.

“Oh sorry about that, you wee little thing. How’d you get so small?”

Kinsoriel’s very finite amount of patience for mockery was not exclusive to deathbound, so he found it hard to keep his face from taking an angry look. “That is not important right now, I have found myself in an awful situation and need your assistance.”

His reiteration didn’t seem to get the smirking orange dragon to listen any more than he had before. “Sorry ‘soriel, but I’m not moving a claw till you tell me what’s going on with ya.”

Of course he would want to push this of all things. Kinsoriel weighed his options; let his irritating neighbor in on this temporary weakness, or continue in the company of a lunatic for even longer. Deciding to go with the former, he would disclose some of what had occurred.

“All you need to know is that a pack of deathbound did this to me. I need you to kill one.”

The orange dragon looked on apathetically. Was this not serious to him?

“While I would take great pleasure in doing so, it sounds like you lost.”

What? What would that have to do with anything? “And?” he asked as he felt himself tensing up slightly.

“Woe to the conquered. They had every right to do whatever they like with you. Valorian’s word ‘soriel.”

He couldn’t believe what was being implied here, not one bit of it. “They burned my horde Harax! My entire tower! Are you really going to say that they were just in doing that?!”

Harax showed not even a speck of sympathy for his fellow dragon as he flashed an evil smile. “Yes I am, just as I might say that you shouldn’t lounge about in my land any longer, weakling.”

Confusion drowned out the insult in Kinsoriel’s mind. This land didn’t belong to the brute, that threshold was still an hour out. He hadn't thought much about it till now, but why was Harax here? Realization struck the black dragon like that arrow from today; out of nowhere, and completely throwing him off balance.

“You…” is all he could say.

The much larger dragon laughed to himself before ripping a leg off of one of the deer with ease.

“I’m very understanding of course, so I’ll let you off easy. Here.”

He unceremoniously dropped the shank of meat in front of Kinsoriel with plop.

“A gift for you as you look for a new home, I wish you much luck!”

Before the black dragon could do anything, Harax had flown off, laughing even harder as he left. Left broiling in rage with no outlet, Kinsoriel looked down at the leg that he had been given. Even as his stomach growled at the sight, he instead turned it to a pile of ash with his breath. That soft shelled bastard’s act of generosity was in fact just another insult, one he would not swallow. This was his territory, those were his deer.

Even if his involvement wasn’t completely clear, that little author was right; Harax was behind this. So much swirled around in his head as he thought of everything. A dragon, if he could even call him that, had engaged in an underhanded land grab. To pour salt on the wound, this ‘dragon’ was supposedly a worshiper of the god of honor! He shouldn’t even have his strength or his orange coloration if he acted like a treacherous snake!

Him being so wrong where that deathbound was right was irritating yes, but it was vital for him to see the bigger picture. There was no reasonable way Kinsoriel could figure out Harax had betrayed the dragon way so suddenly, and he had known Harax for decades at least. How then could this man have known? If he was in on it, why would he fess up so easily?

Nothing made logical sense, nothing in this entire day did. The foolish side of his mind considered, for a fleeting moment, if what he had claimed might be even slightly true. This foolish side of him was a consequence of being so open to new knowledge, and needed to be leashed accordingly. At best, that blessing the gods had given him also included some form of precognition. At worst, even a blind hog finds an acorn every now and then. That’s all that deathbound could ever be.

With both parts of him in agreement now, he decided to find another pack of what should be his deer. He emerged with a clean catch half an hour later, now starting to feel truly taxed from having to use so many spells in a short period. The hunt had helped to get him to simmer down from his rage, but he still had arrangements to make. As he was right now, he’d have no chance of taking on that filthy wyrm of a neighbor. If he wanted his revenge, he needed to focus on regaining his true size first and foremost. It seemed he would still need this loon, until a better alternative came up at least.

“I have returned.” Kinsoriel said as he got back to where he left the man. He had moved from his spot, earning a bit of annoyance from the dragon at the minor disobedience. Looking a bit closer however, he looked almost terrified, with a twitchy and hunched over stance. The black dragon said nothing of the weird behavior and instead got down to making a fire to roast his meat.

“If you beg hard enough, I may give you a morsel of food.” Kinsoriel offered smugly.

“I didn’t need to eat you know.” he said, looking on edge, “Now? Now I have to. Or I’ll die. I can die now. And if I die? I can’t come back.”

His oddness only seemed to increase. It’s like he only seemed to understand he was a deathbound now. Did something happen while the dragon was away?