Chapter 1206: Chapter 1205: Sweeping Across the Wasteland Sky

After the two young dragons had eaten and drunk their fill, they tore around the Hatching Room several more times, finally burning off their overly boundless energy. On this autumn afternoon, the first sisters in a million years to be born on land outside Talronde huddled together and fell asleep in their temporary "little nest," necks resting on necks, tails twined around tails, their tiny sharp claws gripping the blanket patterned with little blue orchids.

A few pieces of eggshell were pressed under their wings and tails—these were the "pillows" they had picked out for themselves. Clearly, dragon hatchlings and human babies aren’t all that different when it comes to sleep; their sleeping postures are just as wildly unrestrained.

Melita Ponia carefully stood guard beside the two young dragons, reaching out to straighten the bedding and blankets the little ones had turned into a mess—these human fabrics were of course not made for Dragonkin, but the hatchlings obviously didn’t care. As long as these soft, warm things could be piled into a cozy little nest, the newborns could sleep peacefully inside.

"Have you thought about how you’re going to settle these two little ones afterwards?" Gawain watched Melita’s slightly inexperienced movements from nearby and couldn’t help asking, "Are you going to let them stay here?"

"I want to take them back to the embassy and keep them with me and Nuoletta," Melita thought for a moment, then gently shook her head. "Since we claimed this dragon egg, Nuoletta and I should take responsibility. Letting the egg stay here during the incubation phase already makes me feel quite guilty—and they need to grow up following real Dragonkin, to learn how to be ’dragons,’ otherwise..."

The blue dragon lady paused here, her expression turning a little odd as she looked at Gawain and broke into a smile: "Otherwise I keep feeling that if they stayed here with you, they’d grow up in all sorts of bizarre ways..."

Gawain felt he had to defend himself when he heard that, but before he could speak, his mind had already conjured up Tiel bumbling along the corridors, Rebecca being chased and smacked by Aunt Heidi, Amber slipping in every other day to pick locks, and Betty watering Enya... The words he’d wanted to argue with dissolved into a long sigh in his windpipe, and he could only cover his forehead and turn his face aside: "...You’re right. This place does seem a bit unsuitable for underage dragons to grow up in..."

There really were too many oddballs around him; two young dragons who didn’t even have a worldview living in such an environment—who knew how many strange things they’d pick up from the crowd? Thinking it over, it was definitely safer to let them go back with Melita... But then again, Gawain was also quite curious how all these abnormal people around him had ended up together. Looking back now, it felt like he’d been collecting a stack of buffs...

Melita held back her laughter as she watched Gawain’s expression change back and forth, then finally cleared her throat twice to break the awkwardness: "The embassy district isn’t far from here, so the two little ones can still come over to play often—I think they’ll certainly be fond of the atmosphere in this Hatching Room, and... and of Lady Enya here."

From the golden giant egg that had been silent for a long time came a soft chuckle; Enya sounded in very good spirits: "If you want to take them back, wait until they wake up. Young dragons have far stronger thinking and comprehension abilities than the young of other creatures, which means sudden changes in environment will give them more defined tension and confusion. So you mustn’t change their surroundings while they’re asleep—you should let them be aware that it is their mother who is taking them from one safe place to another safe place...

"Also, remember to bring their eggshells and the bedding and blankets along. That will give them some sense of security.

"Once you get to the new home, make sure you spend lots of time with them. If possible, have the other Dragonkin at the embassy all come and say hello to the young dragons, so the hatchlings realize they’re living within a ’clan.’ But don’t let them see too many unfamiliar faces at once; they’ll be confused, and it could even make it hard for them to distinguish their mother’s scent..."

Enya patiently guided the young Melita one point at a time, and Melita listened while nodding very earnestly. Gawain quietly watched this scene from the side, and a strong sense of déjà vu bubbled up in his heart—only after Enya’s lesson finally drew to a close did he glance over at her and ask, unable to hold back: "Didn’t you say before that you don’t have any hands-on experience in caring for young dragons... So how is it that you suddenly seem so well-versed in this field?"

"I don’t have actual egg-incubating experience—and it’s impossible for me to have that kind of experience," Enya replied with little concern, "but I never said my theoretical knowledge was lacking—I remember a lot from the days of old-style egg-hatching!"

From the tone of this former Dragon God, Gawain could hear thick pride and satisfaction, but he still felt she wasn’t being entirely honest. Even if she had retained some Goddess of the Night memories from the Ancient Era, those bits of "theoretical knowledge" gathered by observing the mortal world from a gods’ perspective shouldn’t be detailed and thorough to this degree... This former Dragon God had probably gone to someone for remedial lessons when no one was looking, hadn’t she?

But that was not something he was going to say aloud. Since it wasn’t any serious matter, he only smiled faintly and shifted his gaze back to the two young dragons sleeping snugly in each other’s arms. He saw the little ones squirming around under the blankets, switching to a new posture, and suddenly a question popped into his mind: "By the way, Melita, have you decided what you’re going to name them?"

Melita’s expression instantly turned a bit awkward at that; after thinking for a moment, she shook her head: "Nuoletta and I did discuss some options before, but at the time we never imagined the egg we’d brought back would be double-yolked—now the hatchlings to be named have gone from one to two. I plan to talk it over with Nuoletta again after we return. We’ll just scrap the previous list of candidate names..."

Gawain let out an acknowledging "Oh," and then saw the two young dragons start wriggling about again in their sleep. One of the little ones rubbed its neck around its eggshell pillow for a long while and then suddenly opened its mouth and let out a cute, satisfied burp—a wisp of green smoke slowly rose from the corner of its lips.

Gawain had still been smiling a second earlier, but as soon as he saw that wisp of smoke his expression changed. He turned to look at Melita: "I think before we discuss anything else, we should first enchanted all the flammable things around these two little ones with fire protection..."

...

In the study of Cecil Palace, Veronica Moen, platinum scepter in hand, stood before the broad floor-to-ceiling windows, her gaze long fixed on the direction of the main gate of the courtyard, as though caught in deep thought. Only when the sound of a door opening came from behind her did this "Saint Princess" turn around, and she saw Gawain’s figure coming into the room.

"Your Majesty," Veronica showed a faint smile and nodded slightly, "Ri An."

"It’s already evening," Gawain glanced at the sky outside and saw the slowly sinking sun hanging above the cluster of buildings at the far end of the city, the resplendent crown of the great sun casting a slightly warped curtain of light through the clouds. "Sorry, I was held up a bit longer over in the Hatching Room."

"It’s fine, and I haven’t been waiting long," Veronica replied with a smile, then asked curiously, "Did that Dragonkin Envoy take the two young dragons back?"

"Yes. Young dragons should still live with their ’mothers’—and there are many of their kin at the embassy," Gawain nodded and said casually, "Enya did seem a little reluctant to part with them though..."

"That’s human nature..." Veronica murmured thoughtfully, then shook her head. "I truly never thought that one day dragon offspring would actually hatch in a human being kingdom, with Dragonkin Envoys stationed permanently in the city, and races from all corners of the world gathering in one place, even including visitors from the deep-sea... This used to be the sort of scene that appeared only in certain fantasy-themed poems and plays in the Gondor era, yet now it has come true."

"Was this what you were thinking about just now while standing at the window?" Gawain asked with some surprise. "I always thought you were not the kind of person to sigh over such things..."

"It is precisely because I have existed for so many years that I must all the more maintain the parameters of my own personality. Losing one’s perception and comprehension of the world’s changes is a very dangerous signal; it is a sign that the soul is about to necrose—but I suppose Your Majesty did not summon me here today to discuss such matters," Veronica Moen said with a smile. "Miss Betty said you had an important matter to discuss, but she seemed quite busy and did not explain in detail what it was."

"...Then she most likely forgot," Gawain shrugged, and his expression quickly grew serious. "Your true body... it is still beneath the Gondor Empire’s imperial capital, is it not? Deep within the residual structures of the Well of Deep Blue?"

The smile on Veronica’s face did not change in the slightest; only the angle of the platinum scepter in her hand shifted a little, revealing her surprise at Gawain’s question. "Why do you suddenly think to ask about this? Of course, my ’true body’ is indeed beneath the Well of Deep Blue. I have mentioned this to you before..."

"Then can you monitor the flow of Magic Power in the depths of the Well of Deep Blue?" Gawain asked with a solemn expression. "I mean... those structures behind the Magic Surge Source, those conduits that run through the entire planet..."

"You mean The Deep Blue Webway." The expression on Veronica’s face finally shifted slightly, and her tone grew serious. "What has happened?"

"...Enya has noticed some rather ominous signs." Gawain did not hesitate much before sharing with this "Saint Princess of the Old Kingdom" what he had learned in the Hatching Room. "The newly born young dragons bear traces of erosion by pure chaotic magic. Considering the Dragonkin’s unique affinity for Magic Power, she suspects this is a precursor to a ’rising’ of Magic Power within The Deep Blue Webway. A similar phenomenon occurred two million years ago— the planet-spanning Magic system abruptly changed, which once led to a prolonged period of extreme climate."

"Magic Power in the Webway rising?!" Veronica’s eyes widened slightly. This "Defier Leader," who always maintained a faint, placid smile, could no longer restrain her astonishment—this clearly went beyond her previous experience and understanding of the Well of Deep Blue.

"It does sound rather inconceivable—after all, that system is a component of the vast structure running beneath our feet through this entire planet. It is as ancient and stable as the land itself, and in two hundred years it has changed only once—its frequency is even lower than that of the chaotic wave and divine calamities," Gawain shook his head. "But Enya’s warning cannot be ignored, so I want to know whether you can provide any assistance from your side."

"...Over the past several centuries, more than half of my energy has been devoted to studying that Magic Surge Source, including monitoring its depths," Veronica answered at once. "I have not discovered any anomalies—at least, among the few ’vein flows’ I can currently monitor, the flow of Magic Power remains as it has always been."

Gawain furrowed his brow. "Can your monitoring range be expanded a bit further? If this truly is a precursor to some large-scale transformation, we may need more data to confirm the situation..."

"Regrettably, I am powerless to do so," Veronica shook her head, cutting Gawain off. "That is the Gondor wasteland—I possess only limited resources and energy there, and I must also devote considerable effort to contending with the hostile environment that continually encroaches upon the surroundings of the refuge. Merely maintaining the status quo is already quite difficult; I have no spare capacity to monitor additional Magical Vein Flows."

"...I understand. My apologies, my request was a bit excessive." Hearing Veronica’s reply, Gawain immediately realized the unrealistic nature of his own thoughts. His brow then knitted slightly as his gaze involuntarily shifted to the "Known World Map" hanging on the nearby wall.

His eyes slowly swept across the map, over the imperial capital, over the Dark Mountain Range, over the vast Black Forest and the polluted banded flatlands, and finally came to rest on that patch of grey, detail-less wasteland that lacked almost any information due to insufficient data.

Veronica noticed Gawain’s line of sight and looked in the same direction, her gaze settling on the center of the wasteland.

It was the only region of the wasteland that contained any "detail," the sole "known" area. The colossal Gondor explosion crater lay there like an ugly scar, still and silent amid a grey expanse of contamination; at the center of that crater was her present true place of habitation.

This body named "Veronica" was merely an interaction platform walking outside the great walls; compared to the faint information perceived by this vessel, she could far more clearly feel the howling cold winds above the Old Imperial Capital, the foul air, the poisoned land, and the pure chaotic magic flowing within the Well of Deep Blue like the very "blood of the world."

"...I can endure in the wasteland for a long time yet, but I fear this world will not leave Your Majesty much time," she looked to Gawain and said softly. "My Iron Man Corps and I are all awaiting your support."

...

Southeast of the Dark Mountain Range, along the trailing extension of the Black Forest, the Giant Eagles cleaved the high sky with their wings. The afterglow of the setting sun in the west pierced the clouds, casting a brilliant golden radiance upon these massive, imposing creatures, and making the land below appear with sharper, stratified shadows and contours under the slanting light.

Dozens of Giant Eagles flew in formation, most of them bearing the royal insignia.

Azmole, the ancient Druid Leader with the oldest seniority in Elven Society, sat on the back of one of the Giant Eagles. To his front, back, left, and right were the "Royal Eagle Cavalry" assigned to escort duty. These "guards" flew close by; even across the distance of open sky, the old Druid could almost feel the taut tension in the air between them—these escorts were watching over this aged old man with such nervous attention that it even surpassed their concern for the Empress within the formation.

But Azmole merely smiled and turned his attention back to the land slowly receding beneath the Giant Eagle’s wings.

Employing certain delicate magic supplies, he invoked an ancient secret art to synchronize his sight with the eagle’s eyes. Through that additional field of vision, he saw the vast, unbroken sweep of the Black Forest, the polluted and aberrated wasteland, the towering Dark Mountain Range, and...

The faint stretch of human-made lights extending between the Black Forest and the contaminated zone.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.