Second level of Scorchsteel Fortress, reception hall.
"Sit."
The red iron dragon's voice echoed through the wide chamber.
His strong, majestic body was the first to recline across a huge, flat stone dais at the main seat.
These so-called "seats," like the layout in the third-floor council hall, were high platforms carved and polished from whole slabs of hard obsidian or lava rock. Their surfaces were broad and flat, large enough for giant dragons to assu comfortable postures—squat, sprawl, or, as Garoth did at this mont, lie down and relax.
Other giant dragons also casually chose stone-dais seats.
At the sa ti,
the low archways ant for servants around the hall silently opened.
Teams of varied, well-trained attendants filed in one after another.
They weaved nimbly between the massive beasts’ legs and claws.
Strong ogre attendants carried entire roasted giant rhino legs, golden and crisp with fat dripping; serpentfolk maidservants bore silver platters piled with exotic fruits and potent liquors... before long, the stone dais in front of each dragon was heaped with sumptuous food and fine wine.
A dozen or so serpentfolk dancers strolled into the central open floor of the hall.
To drums in the corner pounding an ancient, wild rhythm, they undulated like water-serpents, arms stretching like vines, dancing a ritualistic, primal dance that seed to originate from the tribe’s ancestral rites.
Alberto, however, had no leisure to watch. His gaze skimd briefly over the seductive serpent dancers, then shifted away.
He lay silently on his own stone dais, the great dragon claw lifting a roasted rhino leg offered by the ogres. With sharp teeth he tore off large, fragrant chunks of sinewy at and chewed quietly.
At the heart of a territory ruled by evil dragons,
surrounded by several dragons with powerful, ill-intentioned auras, even with Garoth's so-called "hospitality," Gold Dragon Alberto's mind remained on high alert.
No matter how lavish the food, in that mont it tasted like chewing on dry wood—utterly flavorless to him.
Other dragons appeared far more at ease.
Clearly accustod to the fortress atmosphere, they indulged themselves freely. Their teeth easily crushed hard beast bones; steaming liquor poured down throats like streams, eliciting low, satisfied roars or contented purrs as they enjoyed the feast.
"Let formally introduce myself. My na is Garoth—Garoth Ignas."
The red iron dragon’s deep voice broke the long silence punctuated only by chewing and drumbeats.
His gaze fixed on Alberto.
After a brief pause, Garoth cut straight to the core question: "Alberto, you crossed a great distance to the convergence lands not rely for trivial riches. Tell ... what is your true purpose?"
At this point, any more concealnt was unnecessary.
Gold Dragon Alberto swallowed a chunk of at, raised his head covered in gleaming golden scales, and spoke with clear, resolute voice, without a trace of hesitation: "My aim is to forge my 'Golden Law' beginning from the convergence lands—to establish an eternal 'Golden Order'!"
"'Golden Law'? 'Golden Order'?"
Garoth's eyes flickered with curiosity. "Why choose the convergence lands? In your grand blueprint, what foundational role does this land play?"
Alberto seed to have long considered the question.
He answered slowly: "The convergence lands are like a wedge, firmly lodged between the Ser Wilderness and the Permafrost Tundra. In tis of peace its value may have been underestimated, seeming unimportant."
His claws traced the stone dais lightly as he continued, "However, the Lothrian Federation is riven by internal strife, storm-tossed and on the verge of capsizing; to the north, the Permafrost Tundra burns with tribal warfare."
"In such a delicate and turbulent situation,"
"this ostensibly marginal territory will beco a crucial pivot, a fulcrum capable of prying southern and northern affairs apart."
Reasonable... a precise strategic eye.
Garoth thought this: while his ability to take hold of the convergence lands rests on his strength, it is also blessed by fortune.
The land was hardly fertile, but its unique geography could compensate for resource shortages.
"Then..." The red iron dragon leaned forward slightly. "Could you elaborate more on this 'Golden Law' and 'Golden Order'? I'm quite curious."
Talking about ideals with soone who could understand—or even accept—them, and laying bare one's convictions, is undeniably exhilarating to any ambitious soul.
Alberto could not resist this temptation either.
Garoth listened attentively, nodded at fitting monts, and cast encouraging looks. The young Gold Dragon’s taut nerves gradually relaxed without him fully realizing it.
Like a floodgate opened, he began to gush, describing his grand, precise, and sowhat radical blueprint: absolute authority of law, supremacy of order, and his ideal perfect realm.
He even let down his guard for a while.
He took to drinking lavishly as servants continually offered strong liquor.
As the conversation deepened and ti passed, as Alberto poured his heart out more and more,
the initially naive image of the land in Garoth’s mind slowly beca fuller, three-dinsional, and clearer.
At heart,
Alberto was like a hot-blooded youth born into privilege who had not yet been hardened by repeated, ruthless reality.
He possessed blazing ambition and lofty, seemingly unreachable goals, and inside him burned a fierce refusal to lead a diocre dragon life.
If dragon life were a grand ga,
evil dragons represented a nightmarish difficulty mode, each step strewn with bloody thorns.
Ordinary tal dragons equated to normal difficulty—sheltered but required effort.
Gold Dragons—especially one like Alberto with pure lineage and abundant favor—were practically on beginner protection mode.
They were the dragonkind’s natural darlings, bathed in the favor of ancestors and the dragon god Bahamut.
Raised in such near-carefree, resource-rich, bright-future conditions,
it is not hard to understand an anomalous individual like Alberto—soone who finds dragon life too bland, empty, and unchallenging, craving radical, unorthodox change and the chance to personally create sothing.
The reception hall’s atmosphere, with alcohol and confession as catalysts, grew considerably warr than at the start.
Seizing a pause while Alberto lowered his cup and drank, Garoth steered the topic back to practical matters:
"So... about the compensation thod we ntioned—what have you considered?"
His tone was even; there was no hint of coercion.
Without much hesitation, under the watchful eyes of the other dragons—Samantha stopping her chewing, Trixie licking her lips, Sorog’s gaze sharp as a blade—Alberto drew a deep breath as if to pull the surrounding air into his lungs.
The drunkenness drained from his face; in its place rose a solemn, near-sacred gravity.
He straightened his great body, speaking with firm, resonant voice as if reciting an oath in a temple: "I, Alberto Aurelius, in the holy na of the great platinum dragon god Bahamut, hereby swear an unbreakable oath—"
His golden vertical pupils swept over Garoth: "Within ten years, I shall repay every debt with interest!"
Hearing this,
Garoth barely shook his head.
What he wanted was not that sum of money, but a Gold Dragon himself.
Yet the other was a resolute young dragon—far from the gullible wyrmlings or naive juveniles one could easily fool.
Alberto harbored deep-seated ambitions and near-obsessive ideals. He was an extrely stubborn Gold Dragon.
Though the conversation had brought them closer and established a subtle rapport, truly "taming" him, folding him into Garoth’s own system, remained as difficult as scaling the heavens.
However...
Garoth did not feel discouraged or disappointed.
One more powerful Gold Dragon in Dragon Valley would be a boon—but if not, it was no great loss to him.
"The convergence lands already have a lord of your caliber in residence."
Alberto interrupted Garoth's thoughts. His tone held regret but also a fresh determination: "Naturally, that ans my original blueprint is no longer viable."
He paused, continuing: "But... there are still many unclaid lands around. I will make other plans."
"The Lothrian Federation’s control over the Ser Wilderness is dissolving like lting ice. I will likely head to that wilderness filled with opportunity and danger, and there I will personally build the first territory governed by the Golden Law!"
The Ser Wilderness?
Garoth mused: "I have a suggestion."
He looked at Alberto: "When the Federation’s great ship capsizes, countless powerful beings slling blood will swarm in like sharks—too many to count."
"At that ti, the seemingly barren Ser Wilderness will beco an arena for ambitious n, marauders, and erging forces to clash."
"This will, of course, include myself and the Molten Iron Tribe I represent."
It was precisely because Alberto had sniffed the huge opportunities arising from the Federation’s internal chaos that he had set his sights on the convergence lands as a stepping stone.
Garoth, likewise, foresaw the storm sweeping the south and decided to return to the even more chaotic but opportunity-laden Ser Wilderness!
The world never lacks ambitious figures.
For power, resources, expansion, survival... or for grander ideals.
As ti flows, more and more formidable beings with similar intentions will pour into this tumultuous land.
To gain the greatest profit and secure the best positions in the coming unprecedented chaos, Garoth knew preparations must be as thorough as possible now!
For example, to secure a potential, powerful ally.
If the young Gold Dragon before him were pressed into using a spell-inscribed scale, he could, for a ti, rival a half-grown adult Gold Dragon.
Garoth looked at the young Gold Dragon calmly, his words stark, almost nakedly frank: "At so point in the future, when our paths extend and expand across the wilderness, we may inevitably stand opposed—becoming competitors, perhaps enemies."
Then he shifted tone: "But before that, in the early chaos, when faced with other foes who are stronger, greedier, or more threatening,"
"As kin who share dragon blood, we can aid each other. We may be future rivals... but we can also be temporary allies and comrades-in-arms."
Alberto had decided to develop in the Ser Wilderness, and he still owed Garoth a debt.
Given this gold dragon’s stubbornness and magnificent aim, his process of carving out territory and building order would surely invite innurable troubles and challenges.
Form an alliance first, establish contact.
In the future, there may yet be opportunities to gradually bring him under control and truly harness him.
Taming a few naive, weak juvenile or young dragons is trivial.
Making this proud, stubborn, ambitious young Gold Dragon lower his noble head, beco submissive and loyal, and finally willingly serve—this would be a triumph sure to thrill a dragon’s heart.
Upon Garoth’s words,
Alberto did not hesitate much and gave a deliberate nod: "Good suggestion. I'm very interested."
He looked Garoth squarely in the eye: "Garoth, I can also feel your ambition and hunger for dominance. As an ally, I would gladly fight beside soone of like mind."
He paused, then continued in a deep voice:
"When the dust settles in the Ser Wilderness, when the chaos is ended, and when only the 'Twin Kings' stand upon this land—when you and I inevitably face off as each other's sole rival—"
He raised his head slightly, dragon might unconsciously radiating: "I will... give my all! As the highest respect to you as a formidable opponent!"
Still only two kings... the sa confident tone.
Garoth never sought to rule the entire Ser Wilderness—that land was too vast, too chaotic, with too many factions involved.
His aim was to seize, amid the chaos, as many of the fattest, most crucial slices of the cake as possible.
However,
if soday he could actually bring the whole wilderness under his control... Garoth would not miss the chance either.
He suppressed such thoughts without showing them on his face, maintaining a steady expression—unlike Alberto, who wore his thoughts plainly.
"Then, a pleasant cooperation?"
"A pleasant cooperation!"
It was only a verbal agreent, but Saint-Dragons usually kept their word; they would not break promises. As for Garoth, he could stake his evil-dragon blood on the pledge—he would not easily go back on it either.
Having confird a temporary alliance—
a temporary alliance based on mutual interest and recognition—
Alberto’s taut spirit finally fully relaxed.
He returned his head to the stone dais and resud eating.
A marvelous change occurred: the roasted at in his mouth seed to gain soul—its crusty aroma blossod, juices abundant; the chilled strong liquor sliding down no longer burned but brought a pleasant coolness.
The food finally had its proper taste; it was no longer a waxy burden.
Buzz—!
Suddenly,
a burst of potent arcane light flashed from Alberto’s massive dragon form. Under the slightly surprised gazes of the other dragons, his enormous body rapidly contracted and reshaped.
As the light faded,
a human male adventurer—Alberto in human form—stood gracefully on the stone dais. His posture was upright; golden hair curled and shone like sunlight; his face was handsoly sculpted; a radiant, passionate smile spread across his features.
Human form and draconic form—
their temperant and expression seed like two wholly different souls.
The majesty, obsession, and weight of his dragon form vanished, replaced by a nearly pure, sunny exuberance and casualness.
"Such delicious food and potent wine..."
Human Alberto lifted a cup, appreciating the not entirely clear liquid with a lively, infectious voice: "They deserve to be savored slowly and carefully so as not to waste their worth... and the cook’s hard work."
He arched an eyebrow and, focused and indulgent, began sampling the dishes and wines presented by the attendants.
After a cup of strong liquor,
a slight blush rose on Alberto’s cheeks, his eyes brightened and beca more uninhibited.
He set down the cup and turned to Garoth with a free-spirited look: "Garoth, you are the first... one so directly in tune with my ideals!"
He spread his arms as if to embrace the whole hall: "This recognition, this... understanding! It fills with imnse excitent and gratitude!"
He could not contain his excitent: "Allow ... to present a song and dance to express my joy!"
Before he finished speaking,
Alberto drew a harp from behind his waist that emitted a faint, elegant scent.
Then, as the dragons—Garoth with a hint of surprise, Samantha frowning in bewildernt, Trixie cocking her head with curiosity, Sorog expressionless yet stunned—watched,
the "adventurer" let the harp sing a lodious tune and leapt lightly to the center of the hall.
His tall, lithe body began to dance, movents sotis as ethereal as a forest spirit, sotis as graceful as a human court dance, and even incorporating the raw, primal rhythm of the serpentfolk dancers. The professionalism of his motions, the beauty of his posture, and his emotional investnt instantly made the serpentfolk dancers at his side look dull and stop, unsure what to do.
"Hey! Such a wonderful mont—who wants to dance with ?"
Spinning and leaping, Alberto cheerfully invited the dragons around him.
No dragon answered.
Still, his enthusiasm did not fade one bit.
He seed completely imrsed in the music, the dance, and the sheer joy of self-expression.
The harp's tune grew clearer and more plaintive; his steps beca freer and more ardent; his face radiated pure, heartfelt delight.
It was as if... he had fully forgotten the dignity of being a noble Gold Dragon, and utterly ignored that he was standing deep within the stronghold core, surrounded by powerful evil dragons.
"This Gold Dragon..."
A faerie dragon, perched at Garoth’s huge ear and watching the spectacle, poked Garoth’s scales with a tiny claw and murmured in a small voice full of puzzled concern only the red iron dragon could hear: "Do you think he might... um... be a little split in the head?"
Garoth paused, then let out a low, throaty laugh.
Split in the head?
Perhaps.
According to the vague records and descriptions passed down through bloodline lore, almost all Gold Dragons possess sothing of that trait deep within.
Otherwise, how could they so smoothly, so flawlessly switch between different roles, as if they housed multiple distinct souls?
Thinking more deeply...
Garoth’s vertical pupil reflected the golden figure dancing at the center of the hall, and a hint of understanding crossed his mind.
Maybe it is precisely because Gold Dragons lead such simple, pampered lives lacking sufficient challenge and turbulence that they resort to these near-splitting performances—actively seeking alternate thrills and amusents for their long, sowhat monotonous dragon lives.
"To be carefree enough to be split in the head... no envy there, nothing to envy."
Garoth steadied his thoughts, reflecting inwardly.
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