"Oh, a living dragon. You should know, this is no easy task," the old chieftain promptly raised his price.
"Add ten more Alchemy Potions of Rage. You'll need them for this job."
"Deal," the High Elf replied with an indifferent smile.
"We need its recent locations and specific features."
Having struck this rare, large deal, the old chieftain was happy but dared not be careless. Dragons possess a much stronger and clearer sense of territory than wild beasts. Once the range was determined, it essentially decided which dragon's territory his men would be battling in and what type of dragon they would face.
Seeing the deal sealed, the High Elf officer didn't wish to waste any more words and gestured to his deputy with a lift of his chin.
The deputy immediately stepped forward, understanding. But before she could provide the detailed intel, a Barbarian Warrior rushed forward to report, "Jarl, according to the northern herdsmen, they might have found traces of a dragon. The beast has been ravaging the pastures in the Katjana Valley and has stolen countless yaks. They hope you can send men to drive it off soon."
Old Chieftain Rosinde shrugged at the somewhat astonished High Elves and said, "What a coincidence, the dragon is here."
"Is it coming from that direction, honorable guests?"
The deputy exchanged a silent glance with her officer. He shook his head, indicating it didn't matter, so the deputy nodded and said, "Yes."
In this terrible snowstorm, dragons willing to be active were scarce. Dragons moving in the same direction and within the same range were even less likely. Unless they were two dragons fighting over territorial boundaries or were irresistibly drawn together by the heat of mating season.
However, the dragon they were seeking was clearly still a juvenile.
Crucially, for the High Elves, the young Silver Dragon that had recently been harassing them was neither a deadly nor an urgent threat; it seemed merely to be trying to drive them away. The reason they had proposed this trade was simply because their officer had taken a fancy to that young Silver Dragon. That was all.
So, even if it weren't the same dragon, and the Barbarians did manage to capture it, they wouldn't lose. Exchanging a few cheap Alchemy Potions and a pile of military-discarded scrap metal for a dragon, without any risk to themselves, was a bargain no matter what.
For this reason, they had casually proposed this transaction to several Barbarian clans they encountered through trade. It was solely to increase their chances of acquiring that young Silver Dragon.
A young Silver Dragon that had awakened its nascent sorcery.
Bringing it back to present to the Elf King would surely cause a sensation throughout Devonshire, and even the New Continent.
They were determined to have this dragon!
Meanwhile, the old chieftain, having received a positive response, promptly mobilized his people: "Rosinde, my child, this important task is now yours. You are granted the freedom to select your warriors and equipment."
Even though young Rosinde was inwardly disgruntled, he could only reluctantly agree. "Yes, Jarl, I shall fulfill your trust."
But as he turned, he gave the proud High Elves an expressionless look, then took his leave, leading the Katjana warriors, and disappeared into the snowstorm outside the ancient castle.
「...」
The heavier the snowstorm, the more succulent the beef!
David, who had usurped a bear's den in the valley, was enjoying his fifth whole-yak feast. He was completely unaware that his sudden appearance had inadvertently made him a scapegoat for a sister he didn't even know existed. Now, he had attracted the elite forces of the Rosinde clan—the strongest in the Katjana region—who were approaching, following the fresh trail of blood.
But a dragon is not so easily dealt with. Especially a young dragon that had just ended a five-year hibernation. It was at its peak vitality, a phase of rampant energy, so fearsome that even Kobolds—whom dragons despised—were terrified to approach. During this period, young Chromatic Dragons often acted on impulse. It wasn't uncommon for them to hatch schemes to steal from their mother dragon's hoard or to fight amongst themselves, indirectly wrecking their lairs, which often resulted in angry mother dragons kicking them out.
Even as the Highland Barbarians approached the cave, moving cautiously and slowly under Rosinde's direction, David, with his owl-keen ears, detected them in advance.
David, who was coiling his tail around a tomahawk steak he'd been relishing, set it down. He licked his lips, suddenly finding the meat in his mouth less savory.
Damn it, I knew someone was coming; can't even have a meal in peace.
After all, this world wasn't like his previous one, full of nature reserves. Wherever there were people, they, much like dragons, naturally regarded the cattle in wild pastures as their own. He could understand their perspective but wasn't ready to forgive them.
Just as the Highland Barbarians outside the cave were preparing to move on command, David suddenly tilted his head back and, in the Ogre tongue, bellowed towards the cave entrance:
"SEBAN!!! (RUN!!!)"
The Barbarians exchanged bewildered glances, not understanding why the dragon, seemingly fine moments ago, had suddenly started roaring like that. Had they been discovered?
Only Rosinde, who had once been married to an Ogre woman, understood. But he still didn't comprehend why it would tell them to run.
"AWOO~ WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF!" The Winter Wolf beside him suddenly began to howl, agitated and terrified.
Rosinde instantly grasped the Winter Wolf's meaning. The murderer of his Ogre wife five years ago, the one who had toyed with his emotions—it was the dragon in the cave!
Overwhelmed by a surge of old hatred and fresh rage, Rosinde instantly saw red. Yet, he was puzzled. The killer of its former master was right there; why was the dragon also telling *him* to run?
No sooner had this thought surfaced than the ground began to tremble slightly.
Rosinde, belatedly realizing, abruptly looked up, his pupils shrinking.
Above the mountaintop, a furious line of snow was thundering down.
An avalanche!
"YONAI!!! (GET OUT OF HERE!!!)" In the life-or-death crisis, Rosinde instinctively also shouted in the Ogre tongue. He then kicked the howling Winter Wolf at his feet away, then turned and fled for his life, no longer caring about the dragon, sprinting desperately to the side.
His subordinates, hearing their leader's sudden shout, mistook it for a signal to attack and swarmed towards the dragon's cave. Only when they glanced back did they realize their young chieftain and his wolf had already bolted!
"Avalanche! It's an avalanche! Run!!!" The slow-to-react Barbarians finally understood and fled for their lives in Rosinde's direction, mustering every ounce of their strength.
Even so, the natural disaster triggered by David's roar engulfed these 'little ants' racing across the foothills like a colossal, cleansing wave of snow.
When the commotion outside finally subsided, David found the tomahawk steak in his grasp delicious once more. After leisurely finishing all the meat in the cave, even toasting the bones with his breath and gulping them down, he belched contentedly. Then, he dug himself out of the snow and flew from the bear's den.
I can't stay in this place anymore. So irritating!
No, this won't do. I need to pack some for a midnight snack.
PFFT!
Rosinde had just been dug out by the Winter Wolf from beneath several meters of snow. Filled with grief and rage, he looked around but couldn't see a single one of his men. Just then, he looked up and saw the crimson figure swooping down towards the pasture. It was dragging five yaks, flailing awkwardly, as it flew into the distance.
No... its tail even dangled a constantly bleating calf...
"AAAAHHHH!" Rosinde roared to the sky in futile rage, a sound that ended with a choked "PFFT..."
But a fresh cascade of snow immediately slammed him back to the ground.
He lay dazed in the snow, questioning his very existence, letting the Winter Wolf whimper, lick, and nudge him, completely unresponsive.
He was unable to rise.