Chapter 20
Through the Mirror of Remote Viewing, the proctors watched as an entire Gold-ranked party was consigned to an icy fate.
The Frost Dragon was not done, however. As she rose into the air and the Adventurers’ heads dipped beneath the waves, the Dragon blasted the surface of the water with her supercooled breath. The lake instantly froze over again, sealing the Adventurers beneath a thick layer of ice. She then went over and picked up her stolen egg, lowering her head to inspect it closely.
“That’s…that’s, um…hmm…” Pluton Ainzach struggled to put his thoughts into words, “Isn’t this difficulty a bit…extreme?”
He was still trying to come to grips with what had happened. Within six seconds, the party had been wiped out. Ainzach had witnessed the fierce agility of Gryphons and the martial might of a War Troll, but the Frost Dragon ambush left him with a chill that made him feel like he was standing on the other side of the mirror. It was the cold ruthlessness of a being that dominated the apex of the Azerlisia Range, delivering uncompromising death with swift and brutal efficiency.
It was one thing to be overwhelmed by the incomprehensible might of the Sorcerer King and his servants; your sheer insignificance by comparison resigning you to a dull acceptance of an impossible-to-challenge reality. It was another thing entirely to firmly grasp everything that happened before one’s eyes, understanding exactly how death would come to inexorably claim you.
“That was six Gold-ranks against a new Copper-rank, right?” Aura replied with a mischievous grin.
Ainzach sent a reproachful look in Aura’s direction. It was true that Shiver was now a Copper-ranked Adventurer, but that was due to a combination of her recent registration and the Adventurer Guild’s stringent procedures for training and promotion. As Ishpen had so adamantly asserted, she was bound to quickly make her way up the ranks once she could be formally run through their curriculum.
“I don’t believe that there were any losses, at least,” Momon said from behind his desk, “and it looks like Pestonya is already on the scene to make sure.”
No losses?
Ainzach looked up from his thoughts and saw that the powerful Priestess had already arrived through a Gate. She lifted the newly-formed layer of ice with one hand and effortlessly tossed it aside – it must have weighed several tonnes. Shiver openly gaped at the shattered disk of ice for a moment before Pestonya said something to her that was unintelligible over the howling wind.
The Frost Dragon nodded, transforming into her Human appearance and diving into the water. Seconds later, the Adventurers were ejected onto the ice, looking like so many stranded fish. Pestonya used healing magic to resuscitate them one by one, and Yuri Alpha came and brought them through the Gate. The Dragon and her egg vanished after the last Adventurer was delivered, probably returned to her makeshift lair.
“What was that ambush even?” Ainzach asked, “I’ve heard recountings and tales of Adventurers fighting Dragons, but it’s generally a bit more…”
“Fair?” Momon chuckled, “Indeed, those are the accounts that I’ve heard as well. Keep in mind, however, that these are the tales that people survived to tell. There are also many different types of Dragons. Frost Dragons are some of the weakest and least intelligent of Dragonkind, but they make up for that with predatory cunning and their opportunistic nature. The longer they live, the more proficient they become at these methods of fighting.”
“She didn’t seem particularly stupid to me,” Ainzach replied.
“It varies by individual, of course,” Momon told him, “just like the majority of other races. An Adult Frost Dragon should, on average, be the same as the average Human in intelligence. As with all Dragons, they become wiser, smarter and generally more powerful with age. Due to their awareness of being the weakest of their kind, you’ll have individuals with far less of the predictable, self-assured pride that other types of Dragons have. This makes them especially dangerous – what you may have learned to be an exploitable weakness of Dragons might not be present at all.”
Did that mean that the only thing that kept these Dragons from establishing a nation of their own was their feral nature? According to the stories brought back from the Dwarf Kingdom, the former Lord of these Dragons was doing exactly that. Another thought occurred to him.
“There aren’t any more Frost Dragons in the Azerlisia Mountains, right?” Ainzach asked, “They all follow His Majesty now? I’d hate for us to run into one of them when the expedition is underway.”
“That is unknown,” Momon replied. “The rivalry between the Frost Dragons and Frost Giants is an ancient one, with both races seeking to enslave members of the other. Our Frost Dragons mentioned that their kind was commonly enslaved by the Frost Giants. Seeing that the Frost Dragons had no Frost Giant slaves of their own, it’s fairly clear who was winning that contest. Though it resulted in a couple of fatalities, His Majesty’s actions probably saved the rest of the Frost Dragon enclave from that eventual fate.”
“But that leaves us to deal with those Frost Giants,” Ainzach frowned. “Our members stood no chance against a single Frost Dragon; how can we be expected to deal with these Giants? We’ll be dodging boulders before we can even get close enough to talk to them.”
“I-its a secondary objective anyways,” Mare said. “The main purpose of the expedition is to survey the route for the new highway – the focus for the training expedition was also narrowed down to related activities. The Frost Giants are just a bonus.”
“A bonus,” Ainzach snorted, then he frowned. “Wait, don’t tell me that you’re the source of that rumour…”
“I-I might have said something where the members could hear me…” Mare avoided meeting his gaze.
This kid…no – it would be a mistake to consider him as just another kid. Despite the new section’s straightforward design, the Adventurers were being taught many unforgettable lessons at once. Mare didn’t often speak with most of the guild members, but the strokes he delivered through the Training Area were unquestionably effective.
The course that every member of the upcoming expedition was being put through consisted of a path that had the training party come across the Dragon lair with the Ice Elementals standing guard in front of it. Just beyond that was the objective, where they would find the far end, fight a few Winter Wolves, then return the way they came. It drove home the value of expeditionary preparations, resource management in a hostile environment, and punished them for making decisions that they shouldn’t on the field. The ‘bonus’ here was just as deadly as becoming sidetracked in the Azerlisia Range and running into Frost Giants, and it wasn’t something that would soon be forgotten.
A part of him wasn’t sure whether it was due to Mare being eminently capable at his role as the Training Area Manager, or if he was naturally as ruthless as his decisions seemed to suggest. Over time, Ainzach had started to lean towards the latter: he used what could be used, and he did so with what might be considered perfect efficiency. He wondered if Shiver knew that she had also been co-opted into his planning.
None of the junior Adventurers had an inkling of this at all: everyone had an overwhelmingly positive opinion of the soft-spoken and outwardly timid Dark Elf. Personally, Ainzach thought Mare’s willingness to unapologetically correct problematic behaviours was a boon overall – better to suffer in training than face catastrophic failures on the field.
There was a knock at the entrance, and Ainzach turned to see Shiver peeking around the doorframe. Her stance seemed to compel him to stand and protect the entrancing woman from whatever was troubling her. If Ainzach hadn’t just witnessed her obliterate an entire Adventurer party, he might have leaned towards accommodating her in any way that he could.
Was she doing it on purpose? If so, her ability as a Bard was peerless – she appeared to be entirely authentic in her performance.
“There’s no need to wait at the door,” Ainzach called out to her. “Make yourself comfortable.”
The Dragon in Human form dipped her head shyly before entering, heading straight to Mare. Aura cast a critical eye towards them, as if measuring the distance between the two.
“How was it?” Mare asked.
“I think I can do it, Lord Mare,” Shiver replied. “Do they get any scarier than that?”
“The strongest should be Rainbow – Moknach’s team,” Ainzach told her. “We added a Platinum Bard and Wizard to fill out their number, so it should be something like a weak Mithril team overall.”
“I-is that the group with that Elf, Merry?” Shiver asked.
Ainzach nodded.
“Merry is scary,” Shiver cringed away. “It would be best if they just ignore the cave entirely.”
Scary seemed to encompass anything that Shiver imagined could possibly hurt her, even just a bit.
“You didn’t seem scared at all back there,” he said. “Can you describe what you did? I think we got most of it, but the mirror can’t convey invisible effects if there were any used.”
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Shiver looked at Mare with a question over her features, and he nodded up at her. Her hands lightly travelled over her body, fixing imperceptible flaws in her perfect appearance before she turned to address Ainzach.
“Um…when the Human female snatched one of my eggs,” Shiver explained, “I tried to scare her into dropping it, but she just ran off. I slipped into the lake from an underwater entrance that I tunnelled out beforehand, then used Dragonfear to freeze her party in place once she led me to them. I sensed where each Human was positioned and broke out of the ice to dump them all into the water. Once they went under, I froze the surface over with my Frost Breath.”
Aura walked up to one of the mirrors, looking around the cave while they spoke.
“…you devised that plan within seconds of encountering them?” Ainzach asked.
“Yes?” Shiver tilted her head with a puzzled look, “Hunting down our opponents and prey is natural – we don’t have to think about it at all.”
“Maybe I should level up Hejinmal…” Aura muttered as she continued to fiddle with the mirror.
“Hejinmal was a shut-in, Lady Aura,” Shiver said. “I did almost all of his hunting for him.”
“Eh? Does that mean you stole his eckspee?”
“E-ecskpee, my lady?” Shiver struggled with the strange word.
“Yeah, eckspee…you know, experience poi–bah, never mind.”
“I-its true that he has no hunting experience, so his instincts should be similarly dulled…”
“Muu…”
Ainzach idly wondered if this ‘Hejinmal’ was about to have something happen to him. He flipped through his notes, looking for other questions he might need answered.
“You sounded really mad when they took that egg,” Ainzach murmured, “I thought one of the mirrors was going to crack. Was that more instinct at work?”
“I suppose I was furious about that,” Shiver admitted in a quiet voice. “Maybe it was too much? Lady Shalltear told me that I need to learn how to master my nature if I want to truly improve.”
“I don’t think anyone would fault a woman for having maternal instincts,” Ainzach responded with a slight smile. “That should be the expected result if you steal a baby or egg from any mother.”
“Maternal instincts…”
“Hey,” Aura interjected from the side, “you have five eggs! Think I could have one?”
On the opposite end of the line of desks, Momon shifted in his seat. Was he about to admonish one of the Sorcerer King’s servants? Shiver glanced around nervously, as everyone appeared to be reacting at once.
“That’s, um…well, I should perhaps ask if Lord Mare would like one of them first?”
“Hah?” Aura said, “Why does Mare get one first?”
Shiver wordlessly stared at Aura, then a pretty blush appeared over her features.
“That’s because…” she brought her fingertips together lightly, averting her gaze, “that’s because Lord Mare was the one who finally helped me with my eggs…”
“WHAT!”
Aura grabbed Mare by the shoulders, shaking him violently.
“W-w-what have you done, Mare?!” She all but shouted, “You’re only 77! I can’t be an aunt at 77! Why do women keep happening to you?!”
Aura switched her glare to Shiver, who visibly flinched and jumped back.
“You! When did this happen?”
“A-after we finished making the training course, my lady,” Shiver replied. “I don’t understand what’s wrong!”
Mare was suddenly released, and Aura pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a deep breath.
“Okay,” she said. “Tell me what happened after you two finished the training course.”
The flush over Shiver’s neck and face started to rise again.
“Why are you blushing!”
“Because it’s embarrassing!” Shiver cried, “What would you do if people demanded to know about your first time?”
“B-big sis…” Mare looked over at Aura with wide eyes.
“I-I don’t have one!” Aura snapped.
“So, what happened?” Momon stepped in.
“Lord Mare fashioned the cave for me,” Shiver glanced up at the Dark Warrior cautiously, “and the conditions were nice enough in the training course that I could finally lay my eggs.”
“...and that’s all he did?”
“Well, my lord was very kind to me,” a warm smile grew over her face. “He made me feel safe and comfortable, and it wasn’t as painful as I had feared it would be. I was finally able to relax and it just happened overnight.”
A frown appeared on Aura’s face again.
“Just to be clear,” Momon asked, “who is the father?”
“The…the father?” Shiver’s shoulders slumped sadly, “T-there is no father: I was too late…”
“That so?” Aura breathed a sigh of relief, “I thought Mare was going to be a father.”
“Eh?” Shiver blinked, “Was that an option? What have I been doing all this ti–”
“Hoooookay,” Aura told her, “you just forget about that right now and never think about it again.”
“Wait,” Ainzach said. “Why were you so angry when Mag took that egg, then?”
“B-because they’re valuable?” Shiver replied, “Lady Shalltear mentioned something about nobles paying for them when we first met, so I figured I could sell them to the highest bidder after the training sessions were done. Dragons react poorly to having their valuables stolen, you know.”
“But they’re your eggs…”
“I never found a mate,” her voice seemed to shrug, “so they’re just eggs. Also, you mentioned maternal instincts – Frost Dragons don’t have them.”
“Y-you don’t?”
“Not in the same sense by which you mortals care for your young.”
“So you don’t take care of your hatchlings at all?”
“Of course not,” Shiver hid a smile behind her hand, but her amused expression spilt around it. “We normally lay our eggs wherever we think plenty of food will be available. Trying to take care of them personally…well, that would be a nightmare. I clearly remember when I was a Wyrmling: I would kill whatever I thought I could eat, then kill stronger things for fun. It was a good thing my parents moved into Feoh Berkana – without so many Quagoa around, I might have just eaten Hejinmal instead.”
Shiver lowered her hand, revealing a bright and beautiful smile. Her icy turquoise eyes shone as if she were recalling some fond childhood memory.
“Actually,” she said, “I did take a chunk out of Toranjelit’s tail once. He went screaming to his mother, and she just slapped him straight over the castle wall for not acting his age. Mother and Father were so proud of me – that’s when they started paying attention to my upbringing, I think.”
Ainzach felt the need to reorganize his thoughts about the outwardly alluring young Frost Dragon. His old colleagues would often complain about how terrible their children were at a certain age, but he was reasonably certain that it was nothing like this. Looking at her beaming face, he decided that he would need to wrap his head around what it truly meant to have so many different races with different values living in the Sorcerous Kingdom. The depth behind the Sorcerer King’s intent grew unfathomable, and he did not envy those who had to figure out how to integrate so many into one society.
“So you do have familial instincts,” Aura said. “They’re just focused on having strong kids.”
“Yes…I suppose so, my lady,” Shiver replied. “Rather than mortals who seem to so often shelter their children from the dangers of the world, we try to ensure that our offspring are armed with the weapons to face them. Usually, for every five or six clutches of eggs, perhaps a single Wyrmling will be strong and cunning enough to survive to adulthood. My mother encouraged us to seek paths to power beyond our natural strength, and my father encouraged us to grow stronger so we could hold our own.”
“That sounds about right to me,” Aura agreed. “You can’t be a weakling, or you won’t be able to defend what’s important!”
“I’m so glad we could finally find some common ground, my lady,” Shiver brought her hands together in a pleased gesture. “I truly look forward to working together with you.”
“Un,” Aura nodded and smiled back. “But I’m still gonna skin you if you try anything funny with my brother.”
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The Dancer
The glow of warm lighting accents a swirl of gossamer silks; within, a sumptuous figure enthrals assembled patrons – clients gathered around an exclusive stage. They can only watch, enraptured by a vision of ephemeral grace. In the haze of a tavern; on a wooden festival platform; under exquisite frescoes over marbled ballroom floors, the Dancer reigns over her audience. When she finally releases them from her enchanting embrace, dreams and longing follow in her wake.
Much like its core class of Bard, the Dancer exists in many forms throughout the races and cultures of the world. Dancers have turned their body into an instrument in its own right, capable of masterfully rendering Bardic Spellsong in basic and advanced form. The path to this mastery, however, is long and arduous – something few truly achieve – though Dancers with various levels of expertise will easily attract patrons wherever they go.
The vast majority of Dancers, like Bards, make their living in civilian vocations. These Dancers focus on entertainment, finding a place in venues for every walk of life. In addition, these performers may gain great fame, becoming icons of the fine arts in the lens of high society and popular culture alike. They are the focus of adoration and desire, as often pursued for their charisma and beauty as for their artistic talent…though most have difficulty discerning where one ends and the other begins.
Very rarely, Dancers may engage in martial pursuits, though this path is strewn with hazards. Many may equate the athleticism and grace of a Dancer to martial potency, but both survivability and proficiency in combat are rarely in an artist’s grasp or interest when they initially pursue their careers. Dancers forgo shields and even light armour to maintain the effectiveness of their form, as well as all but the simplest of armament. As such, Dancers who engage in battle tend to be found amongst races who at least possess potent natural weapons and durable bodies. Those without them, like Humans, Elves or Goblins, may find use in specialized equipment such as floating swords or other weaponry that allows one to maintain distance from sources of bodily harm.
In combat, Dancers possess agility and manoeuvrability equal to those of Monks, often also demonstrating similar unarmed technique. Like Monks, Dancers have stances, though unlike the stances of Monks – which purely confer combat benefits – the stances of Dancers are artistic forms that allow them to also render Spellsong. In place of Ki attacks or Martial Arts, they have Dances: sequences of movement imbued with bardic power that can unleash various effects for themselves, against their targets or over their surroundings. A master Dancer who has made her home on the battlefield is a force to be reckoned with: a singular point of devastating beauty and exquisite grace, weaving their art over a deadly stage.