—Jejung Market—

Iian stepped on the soft grass of the fields near the public teleportation gates. She glanced at the blue ions whizzing inside the portal before it was gone, leaving a skeleton of the gate. It connected the Council premises to the heart of the Ivory Realm, otherwise called the Land of the Blessed Dragons—Jejung market.

She shifted her eyes and spotted the central tower, and the hands of the clock told her that her father wasn't home by then. Well, for the sake of her broken back, she could at least take a stroll for the time being.

The young dragon placed her hands behind her back, and with small strides, skipped through the market alleys. She closed her eyes and let her ears and nose guide her through the alleys to the main street.

After crossing multiple alleys, Iian made it to the main street. She looked to her left; there was the central tower in a fading yellow, and people swarmed over the roads built with stones, cemented with mud.

She took a sniff in the air, and a fragrant smell soothed her soul. Iian crossed the street and peeked through the window of the shop, the owner of the scent. Under a dim light, a figure of a male stretched a flour dough and dressed it with fruit extracts and fried them into small balls. Then he sprayed sugar syrup on it and wiped the sweat off his brows with a cloth. A bitter, woody smell of the burning log met the syrup’s saccharine and gave the shop the depth of a sophisticated delicacy.

Iian turned to the noodle shop opposite her. Her eyes glittered as the chef stretched a dough into noodles. He added eggs, diced and sliced vegetables into the spice and gave the rich broth a stir, which made her tummy grumble. It was her favourite place to stare whenever she visited the market. But she ignored the temptation and moved forward. Yeah, she never went inside, ever.

And then, she stumbled upon the heart of Jejung’s business. Some dwarfs were selling weapons, metal instruments, and utensils. Medical clinics of elves prepared medicines and potions. Some lesser dragons were also selling their stocks.

From the corner of her eye, she found two cloaked people fidgeting near a herbal store. They pulled their cloaks over their faces with lips the only visible part.

“How foolish,” whispered Iian under her breath. “What’s the point of hiding your face when your affiliation is exposed because of the cloak itself?”

Aristocratic lineages of Ivory considered the market cheap and unsuitable to their tastes, but look at the irony. The market was their arena to gather back-handed supplies.

Iian chuckled. Jejung was an enormous market that served the economy of society. No matter how refined their tastes were, everything in their ancestry originated from the Jejung market.

She moved on and found a familiar emblem over a five-story building—The symbol of Timber trees. Anyone regular to the market would know the biggest warehouse in town. The people were unloading huge carts of mahogany and timber, while the mercenaries sat around in small groups, drinking water and eating nuts. They too had emblems with carvings of timber trees. Could be a goods express from their adjoining Realm, Timberella.

Iian looked at the big clock at the town square. Only five minutes to five. Her father must have returned home by now. It was time for her to go.

“Run!” “Get aside!”

“It has gone mad. The hounds have gone mad!”

Iian's ears perked up. The market’s chaos stole her attention as people fled in a hurry. And before she could register the situation, a few of them roughly brushed past her without apologising. Iian blinked twice but didn’t mind them. She forced her way forward towards the commotion, the approaching misfortune.

She tapped twice at the centre of her forehead and a blue, intricate peace sign appeared between her brows. She snapped her fingers and a jade brush appeared intertwined between them. Iian craned her neck and spotted the rushing trouble through the crowd.

It was a huge, out-of-control cart charging at the people. It thrashed around the shops, broke public property and trampled over some unfortunate folk, who couldn’t escape.

But the real culprits were the two low-intelligence beasts tied in front, pulling the cart under their will and vigour. They were dark, sleek-furred and their tongues rolled out, dripping wet with saliva. The hounds growled and howled as they wreaked havoc.

Some shopkeepers and dealers spotted Iian running in the opposite direction. They yelled, urging her to escape the same fate as the trampled people.

“Hey! Get away from there! Are you mad?”

Iian paid no heed.

Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

Timber logs tumbled out of the cart and rolled down the dirt path, crushing anything in its way.

Her jade brush vibrated with a hum as it glowed with a bluish aura. The insignia on her forehead flickered as well. She flicked the brush between her fingers and scribed a manifestation in the air. Ancient runes pulsed around it and powered the conjured figure.

The brush bursted with energy. The coded writings materialised into javelins and arrows. It pierced some of the rolling logs into the ground till harmless, and the javelins caged the others.

The panicked crowd stopped on their feet and stared at her in awe.

But Iian’s work didn’t end there. The hounds needed to be disciplined, and she had to stop them, uninjured.

She inscribed two different runes while dodging debris and activated them. They morphed into large grappling hooks. Using the grappling hooks, she seized the hounds’ reins and thrust the ropes into the crowd.

“Pull the ropes!” she said. "It would free the cart and stop some trouble."

None had to deny anything. In order to survive, people were ready to follow her without asking questions.

So, they pulled at the ropes and bit by bit the reins fell on the ground, its fibres cut unclean. The cart slowed down and the mercenary group running behind it stopped it. They rescued the shocked driver present from the cart.

Every eye was fixed on Iian, the show’s star. But what was she doing by abruptly stopping in between?

The hounds were over her head when she planted her left leg forward and thrust forward her right hand. The energy emitted suddenly overwhelmed the entire region with a soothing atmosphere. A blinding white light aura touched everyone, calming their nervous and panicked minds. It was her inherent magic, ‘Peace’.

The hounds growled, but they had stopped in their tracks. Iian lightly tapped her finger on their heads. The people stared, transfixed as the hounds stopped flaring their razor teeth and they submitted to her, barking in joy. They lapped her hands, coating them with saliva if she was their master.

She smiled slightly at them and called the driver to her. “Train your hounds better next time. The situation could have been fatal.”

The driver said nothing, but nodded. Iian patted his back in appreciation.

The locals, shopkeepers and the customers thanked her, and she politely took her leave.

“That's the Peace Dragon.” The people murmured amongst themselves.

“Isn’t that lady The Great Aide’s daughter?”

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

– Snow Palace, Ivory Realm –

Outside the white mansion, Iian stood frozen to her feet, observing. In front of her was the Snow Palace, known for its outstanding glow, be it day or night.

A wave of nostalgia took over her. She remembered playing in the corridors of the mansion as a child. It was a time when her mother was alive. That was until the tragic day when she was assassinated. But Iian had moved out as soon as she joined the administrative block as a palace official.

A sudden gust of wind blew her pearly locks and bangs. She focused on what brought her there.

The enormous doors of the mansion dragged open at the touch of her fingertips. As her father’s heir, doors would always open for her. Servants bowed down and showed respect as Iian passed by and then disappeared into a corridor. The corridor walls, thought Iian, were shiny. The sun shone above, and the windows reflected abundant light, making the path ahead gleam with adoration, pearls, and crystals.

“Miss Iian!” A loud, high-pitched voice came from the other end of the corridor.

A furry, reddish-brown child jumped on Iian from the back, trapping her waist with his little hands. The sudden contact startled Iian. She twirled around to see him grinning at himself silly and his yellow eyes in crescents.

“Char.”

He grinned again.

“Miss, how could you not visit us?” He pouted, faking his anger.

“I had work.” Iian stated as a matter of fact.

“That is something you always have.” He rolled his eyes.

“How’s your training for a butler?” She glanced at his dark suit and unbuttoned collar.

He sighed as he buttoned up his collar and smoothened his tailcoat. “No less than a disaster.”

Iian giggled. She ruffled his hair. “For now, can you lead me to my father’s study?”

“As you wish, miss!”

After navigating endless hallways and countless turns, they finally reached a colossal mahogany door. The door had intricate designs, but what made it unique was being the only mahogany door in the mansion.

Iian had to comment. “It’s a wonder you remember the path.”

The tips of Char’s foxy ears fidgeted as he knocked on the door. “Well, I did trouble brother Carson with it.”

The doors opened by themselves. Iian entered first, then Char stood by the door.

“It’s been a while.” A youthful voice startled Iian.

She turned her head a full ninety degrees to see her father gracefully resting on a royal blue diwan with golden trimmings and designs. Some formality papers rested in his, crumpled. He had the same pearly white hair as hers, a straight nose and his build was more complex than Ignia. He was two heads taller. And talking about age, he was the oldest dragon of ‘Dragonix’, with a youthful figure kept away from ageing by magic.

His peacock-green coloured irises finally looked up at her and he patted the seat beside him. Iian walked up to him, all the time avoiding stepping on the piles and mountains of papers and documents all along the way.

“If as a father and a daughter, then even longer. It’s been some time.”

Her being a very high-ranking official and the Great Aide being second to the Emperor, they met each other often in their official capacity, but only as The Great Aide and Miss Iian. Neither had the time to rejuvenate the father-daughter relationship.

The Great Aide looked at his daughter. “And what brings you here today?”

Iian made a face. “Can’t a daughter talk to her father just for leisure?”

“Of course she can. But you belong to one of those who would keep work first rather than leisure talk.” His eyes sparked sharply.

Iian shuddered at the thought of being read like an open book.

“An absurd solution, I would say. What you think Dragneel Bloom can do for Ignia, will never be easy.” Instantaneously, she questioned, “Also, Dragneel Bloom, who is she? And while she might be your important person needed in politics, where does Ignia come into the equation?”

“Why do you even say that?” The Great Aide confronted her in the eyes. “Ignia might be your friend, but he is also Trailblazer’s heir. While I let you do what seemed to fit with your life, Ignia is a prince. Politics is in his destiny.”

“So, what role is Dragneel Bloom playing for you?” If her father didn’t mean Ignia especially, then Dragneel piqued her interest.

“Her role?” The Great Aide thought for a moment and smiled. “She’s the scriptwriter of this story.”