Deep within Scorchsteel Fortress, the red iron dragon’s consciousness slowly drew inward.
He temporarily severed the bloodline connection with Iron Dragon Gordon to wait for a response.
At the last mont, Garoth reiterated to Gordon several critical details that required extra attention and must not be neglected—how to gauge proper limits when conveying information, how to assess Elina’s true intentions and any shifts therein, how to avoid risks during the early stages of cooperation, and so on—ensuring that his brother embedded at the heart of enemy territory would not, through a montary lapse, expose himself or even compromise the plans of the entire dragon cluster.
“Cross-referencing Gordon’s detailed reports with the intelligence coming from the Gem rchant Consortium’s network,” he thought.
“It’s basically certain that this Crystal Princess Elina…is by no ans so sheltered, short-sighted simpleton raised in a court nursery.”
Garoth sched in his mind.
“On the contrary, she’s extrely clever, with sharp political instincts and considerable magical prowess. More importantly…deep inside her, a strong, burning desire to serve her country and to help the struggling Lothrian royal court still blazes—this is a potential collaborator with ambition and the ability to act.”
The red iron dragon raised his head slightly, his gaze flickering, thinking:
“I hope…in the end she will make the choice that benefits both sides…that correct choice.”
The massive body of the red iron dragon shifted a little, adjusting into a more comfortable posture that allowed the heavy, plate-like scales on his belly to fully relax.
The serpent-won sorceresses understood.
With their fingertips cool with magical energy, they began to gently and precisely massage the relatively softer area of the red iron dragon’s belly, helping him relax his body of steel-cast hardness.
Garoth enjoyed this rare mont of relaxation as he sank his mind into the invisible bloodline connection network.
He first contacted Iron Dragon Sorog, then connected with the red dragon Samantha overseeing the alchemist production line in the Black Iron Plains.
At the sa ti, he quietly waited for Gordon to return word from the Lothrian royal court about the Crystal Princess’s reply.
anwhile.
Spark Monastery.
“You little brats! Listen up!”
Iron Dragon Gordon shouted.
“The glorious Steel Lord is about to set off back to the court! Next ti we et, I hope your ‘spirit’ burns brighter and you can put on at least a shred of that great dragon majesty!”
Surrounded by a group of adolescent apprentices whose gazes mixed awe, curiosity, and a resigned familiarity, he—covered in dull tallic scales like a walking fortress—awkwardly planted his powerful limbs, each step causing the ground to groan slightly beneath his weight. He then held his massive dragon head high, adopting a posture he believed to be imposing though it ca off as sowhat comical, and left Spark Monastery.
Not long after.
In the Lothrian royal court, inside Crystal Princess Elina’s study that resembled a small magical museum.
Elina leaned against the window divan padded in velvet, one delicate hand lazily resting on Gordon’s cold, hard scales.
She was listening to Iron Dragon Gordon as he spit and gestured, colorfully recounting the deeds of his blood-relative brothers—powerful, wise, and on the verge of establishing an immortal dominion in the wilderness.
At first she paid little attention, rely treating Gordon as a raconteur.
To her he was like a pet, a companion, and—now that she’d grown older and had no offspring—an object of a certain maternal fondness that had blossod.
However, as she listened on, the faintly indulgent smile on Elina’s refined face slowly shifted into seriousness, then into a barely hidden doubt.
Her gaze drifted involuntarily from Gordon’s passionate, expressive dragon head to his corpulent, full body—made plump by long years of pampering in the court.
Compared to the savage images of brothers forged in the blood and fire of the wilderness that he described, the contrast was, to put it mildly, stark.
“Look! Elina! I knew you’d make that face!”
Gordon keenly caught the distrust in the princess’s eyes and imdiately growled in displeasure.
He twisted his neck with surprising agility for his size, extended a huge claw covered in tal scales, and plucked several issues of the Federation Daily from a nearby rack—different dates, but each with shocking front-page headlines.
Like displaying trophies, he slapped the papers down in front of Elina.
Death’s Harbinger Descends! Raymond Duchy’s Century-Old Gem Veins Bloodied by Giant Dragons
Blackrock Duchy’s Mine Outpost Turned into Hell Overnight—No Survivors; Suspected Attack by the Dreadful Dragon Wing of the Burning Mountain; Rewards of Tens of Thousands of Gold Coins Offered
Alongside the headlines were images.
A mining field lted into glassy craters by dragon breath, iron city walls torn as if pawed by a colossal beast, and…a magical image crystal capture of a blurred but nacing silhouette blotting out the sky.
“Look! Study these carefully!”
Gordon’s voice brimd with confident pride. “This is the work of my blood kin—the ‘Death’s Harbinger’! Hear that na! See these achievents! Is that weighty enough?!”
Elina inhaled deeply.
A dragon mistaken for the Wing of the Burning Mountain? She had heard of that infamous dragon before.
She straightened, her expression sharpening with focus as she examined the duchy reports she typically ignored, using the keen insight of a senior mage to parse every line.
Gradually,
an image ford in her mind of a dragon of astonishing strength, terrifying growth rate, cautious and steady thods—a being no force could dismiss.
Elina’s aura of light rose from the newspapers.
She looked back at the round mass beside her and appraised Gordon from head to tail several tis.
As if trying to find beneath his rotund exterior any bloodline credentials linking him to the Death’s Harbinger, she hesitated before saying, “Gordon, are you sure…that dragon called the Death’s Harbinger is really your biological brother?”
She paused, and the doubt in her tone deepened.
“You two…really share the sa source blood? You aren’t mistaken?”
Her unspoken implication was blunt: you two…this gap…isn’t it too extre?
One forged in ruthless wilderness savagery like a demonic lord.
One pampered and fattened in court until he’s a ball.
“Of course! Without a shadow of a doubt!”
Gordon’s answer was as firm as a sword strike.
“We have similar blood coursing through us, and there’s absolutely no error in that.”
Elina fell silent.
She inspected Gordon’s eyes and expressions repeatedly, attempting to catch a trace of deceit, but saw only pure pride and unshakable conviction.
She recalled Gordon’s origins—he was indeed discovered in the Ser Wilderness, far from civilized order, a place of primitive struggle and brutal law, and brought back to the court.
After questioning the iron dragon for more than ten minutes,
she gradually accepted this seemingly absurd fact.
“Ser Wilderness…Ignas Dragon Cluster…Duchy of Abbe…”
The Crystal Princess’s gaze grew deep and sharp, as if piercing the study’s walls toward the borderlands on the kingdom map—the vast, changeable lands there.
Always,
a strong sense of unwillingness had burned inside her like wildfire day and night—she refused to be nothing more than a decorative vase for Lothrian court. She wanted to prove her worth, to use her wisdom and power to do sothing useful for the kingdom she loved, which now rocked in turmoil.
Yet
she sat at the heart of the court. Her exalted princess status brought a halo but also beca a heavy fetter on her movents.
Those vying for the throne, treating her as a potential threat or bargaining chip, used rules and restrictions to limit her at every turn. In a ti when the Federation’s undercurrents roiled and the situation was as taut as a drawn bow, she had ambition and powerful high-mage talents but discovered, sorrowfully, that she could do almost nothing that truly touched the core or altered the situation.
Now,
things seed to be turning.
“Gordon.”
Elina’s eyes snapped back and refocused on the iron dragon; her voice took on an unprecedented gravity and clarity:
“Can your blood relatives conduct rational, effective communication? Would they consider accepting certain commissions from the royal court—for specific resources valuable to them, or for sufficiently generous magical compensation?”
She asked the decisive question that would determine whether cooperation could begin.
Gordon’s jaw muscles twitched.
The reply “Of course they would! They’d beg for it!” almost burst from his throat.
But just as that impulse threatened to slip out,
he rembered the red iron dragon’s admonition: Stay calm, Gordon. Never let the other side easily see our bottom line. Let them request, let them show their hand first.
He swallowed the eager affirmation and forced his expression into one of careful deliberation, even slight difficulty.
The iron dragon was silent for several seconds before speaking in a slow tone: “They…um…are not mindless beasts who only know destruction and plunder. They possess basic wisdom and the ability for rational exchange.”
Then his tone shifted: “However, perhaps because they’ve lived long on the fringes of civilization, in lands where order collapsed, their ways inevitably carry a fierce wildness and an unconquerable arrogance.”
“And they have built up a remarkable realm, gathering formidable monster followers. They already command a region and make neighboring forces wary—pride and lofty spirit that likely surpass even mine, Gordon’s.”
“Ordinary gold and gems, common magic ores…these no longer tempt them. They have their own grand designs and strategies for the future.”
“They probably won’t rashly accept commissions from unfamiliar forces—especially from a human kingdom.”
Not accepting rashly does not an there is no chance to accept.
Elina considered this.
Whether she could win their acceptance would hinge entirely on whether the offered terms were shocking enough—enough to move proud, battle-seasoned wilderness overlords used to spectacle.
“Gordon.” Elina’s voice returned to its usual elegant composure but carried undeniable royal authority. “Convey to your blood brothers, on my behalf and on behalf of the Lothrian royal court, a formal intention.”
“So say this—”
“The Lothrian royal court, with the utmost sincerity, wishes to discuss establishing a long-term strategic cooperative relationship with the powerful Ignas Dragon Cluster, based on mutual trust and mutual benefit.”
To ensure the princess’s status would be taken seriously, she expressly invoked the court’s na.
This both demonstrated the highest level of sincerity and signaled quietly: the one speaking isn’t rely a princess seeking personal aid, but an entity with supre authority and vast resources. That alone might cause the proud dragon lords to lower their heads and carefully weigh this proposition’s trendous value.
They might still doubt,
but at least this would buy her an opportunity for dialogue.
“All right! Leave it to !”
Hearing this, Gordon imdiately lifted his head and swore with a confident tone:
“My blood brothers value my judgnt greatly. They respect my opinions. Since it is you—Elina—seeking cooperation, I, Gordon, will spare no effort to act as interdiary and do my best to bring this about.”
“Then I entrust this matter entirely to you, Gordon.”
The Crystal Princess inclined her brow slightly.
Having said that, she seed to finally relax, leaning back against Gordon’s cold, steely scales.
She picked up a hefty to with a moonstone-embedded cover, opened it with elegance, and began to read quietly, as if the conversation that might change the kingdom’s fate were just an ordinary afternoon interlude.
Yet her eyes did not linger long on the pages; her thoughts had already flown to the lands called the Ser Wilderness, and to that cluster of dragons.
Convergence lands, Dragon Valley, Scorchsteel Fortress.
After a period of remote exchanges and internal deliberation, with the red iron dragon’s opinion dominant, the core mbers of the Ignas Dragon Cluster finalized the next detailed action plan for the Molten Iron Tribe’s formal march into the Ser Wilderness.
The tribe’s massive war machine was about to roar into motion.
First stop: Serpentine Earth Rift!
With the death of the Thorn Marquis, control of this trade route reverted to his superior family line, and they continued to operate it—relying on the reputation initially built by the Molten Iron Tribe—transforming it into a relatively prosperous comrcial lane.
Choosing this location was not only about reclaiming forr glory and taking back their prior holdings.
It was also because this place lies at the border of the Ser Wilderness,
making it an ideal bridge for further advances into the wilderness.
As for whether the Raymond Duchy would pursue them—those higher Federation powers might not intervene. Their garrison forces in the Ser Wilderness were not necessarily stronger than the Molten Iron Tribe.
The warriors of the Molten Iron Tribe and the dragons commanding them were ready for the national-strife battles with Federation forces.
However, regarding the specific strategy of whether to establish cooperation with Crystal Princess Elina, the red dragon Samantha expressed clear doubt and resistance.
In the intangible bloodline network, Samantha’s voice rose, brimming with undisguised disgust.
“Why? Why must we cooperate with those humans? I think it’s completely unnecessary— I despise those furless, scaleless little crawlers from the bottom of my heart.”
“Samantha, calm down.”
Garoth replied: “Because…she can bring us gems.”
“And not just any gems—an endless stream of countless, top-quality gems that could fill our treasury.”
“Not only gems…through her channels we could obtain rarer, more precious resources that even money can’t easily buy on the market, like solidified black oil crystals—those supre magical treasures found only in the kingdom’s vaults.”
After a few seconds of silence,
“Hmph.”
Samantha gave an instinctive snort, then her tone underwent a subtle and rapid shift: “But then again.”
“Humans—these furless, scaleless little things—when you look closely…can be strangely cute? Their round eyes and soft appearances.”
“Hmm, it might be worth contacting them, as long as they offer enough gems to show respect.”
At that mont, Iron Dragon Sorog said: “Gordon has replied!”
Gordon’s booming voice, with an obvious hint of self-aggrandizent, sounded in every bloodrelative’s mind.
“Brothers! Elina is very interested in cooperation. Her attitude is positive; she has a strong intention to cooperate.”
Hearing Gordon’s report, Garoth nodded without much excitent or agitation.
He had anticipated the Crystal Princess’s positive reply.
When he first learned of her nature and circumstances through Gordon, Garoth had already ford a picture of her in his mind.
She was a magical fla trapped in a crystal do of splendor—a fire burning with the desire to spread, yet lacking a fuse to ignite it.
Now,
he had offered the fuse.
If the princess’s original intention remained true—her unwillingness to be a vase and her desire to serve the kingdom still burning—she would undoubtedly grasp this chance tightly.
“Elina is still waiting for my reply; she wants to know our preliminary intent. Do we…give her an affirmative answer now?”
“Not yet.”
Garoth smiled faintly and said, “Let her…wait a little longer.”
In any negotiation, transaction, or cooperation, controlling the initiative is crucial to the final division of benefits.
In a contest of patience and resolve, it is often the party that can remain calm and appear less anxious that ultimately seizes decisive initiative.
No sooner had Garoth spoken than Samantha snapped in a vicious growl, “Gordon! You brain stuffed with fat, listen to !”
The red dragon Samantha snarled: “Don’t let your love-addled brain ruin our good deal!”
“If your pathetic, foolish infatuation with those human insects leads to us losing gem veins or black oil crystals…I’ll peel your scales, pull your tendons out, spit you like a pig roasted at a volcano mouth—I promise, that aroma will make every kobold in the tribe drool for three days.”
Samantha’s brand of ‘concern’ was always that warm.
“Shut—up!”
Gordon imdiately emitted a mocking laugh, as if he had just heard the world’s most ridiculous joke.
“You foolish red dragon! You muscle-brained Samantha, what do you take for? So clueless crawler bewitched by romance scenes from knightly novels?!”
“Yes, I am enthralled by Elina, but it’s an obsession akin to gems, to wealth—not blind, stupid sentint.”
He declared with weight: “I know what to do—rest assured a hundred tis over.”
ps: The surgery went very well, mother and child are safe.
Recovery requires a few days in the hospital; after returning ho recovery will be daily. Need to start earning milk powder money. First asking for a monthly ticket; will update heavily in a few days.
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