Chapter 1203: “Taking Care of the Hatchlings”

After Enya spoke of those distant, ancient memories, the entire incubation chamber fell into a sudden hush. Even the two newly hatched dragonlings seemed to sense the shift in atmosphere. They nervously folded their tiny wings and tucked their necks in, cautiously crawling beneath Melita’s feet. Although Enya was the first “human” they had ever seen after breaking free from their eggs, it was clear that, compared to the round, smooth eggshells, Melita embodied the image of “mother” far better in their eyes.

The two little dragonlings, like playful puppies, wriggled and scurried at her feet, bringing a mix of joy and nervousness to Melita’s face. She bent down carefully, stroking the scales on their heads, then looked up at Enya. “So, you’re saying… the magical corruption marks on the hatchlings might be connected to the Deep Blue Conduit? That the magic within it is… rising?”

“I can’t be certain,” Enya replied softly. “After all, those memories are from two million years ago, and there’s no theory yet to prove that changes in the Deep Blue Conduit’s magic directly cause the mutations we see in the hatchlings. Back then, technology in Tal’Rond was still primitive. But I do think this needs to be reported to Hragor and the others. They might not have the means to monitor the conduit now, but at least they should examine the recently hatched dragons. If more show signs of magical corruption… then it’s a warning we can’t ignore.”

“I’ll contact Tal’Rond immediately when I return,” Melita nodded without hesitation. “Chairman Andal mentioned last time that they successfully repaired an energy extraction station. If the deep probes there still function, maybe they can still observe some changes in the Deep Blue Conduit…”

Gawain was lost in thought as well, pondering how he might intervene in a planetary-scale power structure like the Deep Blue Conduit. Soon, a name surfaced from the depths of his mind: Veronica/Ophelia.

Once a member of the ancient Gondor Empire’s royal family and leader of the rebels, she now controlled Veronica’s body in the human world through a consciousness projection. Her true self, however, remained deep within the ruins of Gondor’s wasteland. From Gawain’s understanding, she had transformed her life form into some kind of immortal state using ancient technology.

The ancient Deep Blue Well had been obliterated in a massive explosion long ago, but what was destroyed was only the human-built extraction facility above the “Conduit Source.” Veronica/Ophelia’s true body still resided deep underground in the Gondor base beneath that source, overseeing the remnants of the Deep Blue Well through ancient autonomous devices and an iron legion. Though her condition seemed fragile, she was likely the only one capable of monitoring the conduit’s subtle movements—something the mortal kingdoms, barred from entering the wasteland, could not do.

The Deep Blue Conduit ran through the entire planet. The abnormal “surge” phenomenon in Tal’Rond might leave clues at other conduit outlets elsewhere.

Hearing Gawain and Melita’s responses, Enya gave a soft “hmm,” then smiled faintly, a hint of wistfulness in her voice. “I suppose it’s up to you all now. These days, I feel powerless over most things happening in this world. I even need help with daily life…”

“Please don’t say that!” Melita hurriedly protested. “You’ve already done so much for the dragons. Now it’s your time to rest. We can manage on our own…”

“You’re right, Melita,” Enya interrupted with a smile. “I do need to rest properly. If I don’t, then Hragor, Andal, and Balogor won’t be able to rest either.”

Melita was momentarily at a loss for words, awkwardly smiling. Gawain, still deep in thought, asked, “If the magical marks on the hatchlings really are linked to changes in the Deep Blue Conduit… what can we do about it?”

Enya paused, then spoke slowly in a low voice: “If this truly means the entire conduit system behind the Deep Blue Well is undergoing some kind of natural cyclical change, then the mortal races have no power to stop it. It would be as impossible as trying to halt the planet’s rotation. So all you can do is prepare for disaster prevention and mitigation. The changes in the Deep Blue Conduit aren’t a ‘deadly catastrophe’ like a magical tide or divine calamity. Compared to those, it’s at least somewhat manageable.”

Her voice trailed off slightly, and Gawain noticed a subtle shift in her tone. He frowned. “It sounds like what worries you most isn’t the conduit’s changes themselves…”

“Yes,” Enya said gravely. “It’s the cause behind those changes. Aside from the upheaval I remember from the ancient era, the Deep Blue Conduit remained stable for two million years. It’s like the planet’s lifeblood—steady and constant, as unchanging as the earth itself. Not even the magical tides or divine disasters disturbed it. The Gondor Empire’s thousands of years of ‘extraction’ didn’t even scratch its surface. Such a stable system… why would it suddenly change? That’s what truly concerns me.”

Gawain and Melita exchanged a glance, both sharing the same grave expression.

A timid chirp from one of the dragonlings snapped everyone back to the present. Gawain looked down and saw one dragonling gently tugging at his pant leg with its tiny teeth, while the other nuzzled Melita’s leg, making short, urgent calls. The adults, caught up in serious discussion, suddenly remembered the two newborn “little ones” waiting for care. Melita’s face tightened with worry, her voice trembling slightly. “Ah, are they hungry? Should we get them something to eat now? Should I hold them? They…”

“They definitely need to eat,” Enya interrupted gently, sensing Melita’s flustered state. “Dragons are omnivores, and hatchlings have excellent digestion. Prepare some fresh meat—raw is fine—plus clean water and some soft cloths. After eating, they’ll need to rest.”

Gawain immediately looked toward Betty, who was quietly standing nearby. “Go get those ready.”

“Y-Yes, Your Majesty!” The maid, nearly dozing off, jolted awake, bowed hastily, then dashed toward the incubation chamber door, disappearing swiftly down the corridor.

The dragonlings, seeing Betty leave, stretched their necks and let out a series of sharp cries, flapping their still-clumsy wings wildly, the slaps against the floor sounding like “pat-pat.” Melita crouched down, trying to soothe them, but her efforts seemed clumsy and ineffective. Even as newborns, the dragonlings were far larger and stronger than typical young creatures, with robust bodies and surprising agility. Melita’s human form was clearly ill-suited to handle such strong “children,” and soon she looked up with a pleading expression.

Gawain groaned, holding his head. “See? I’m no help either. I don’t just not know how to care for kids—I wouldn’t want to deal with winged ones like these even if I did!”

“Sigh… I’ll take over,” Enya’s resigned voice came from nearby, like a heavenly relief to the two flustered adults. Gawain heard a soft humming from the golden eggshell, the same lullaby Enya used to sing while cleaning dragon eggs. Miraculously, the two restless hatchlings quieted down as if recalling the sounds they’d heard inside their shells.

Then, an invisible magical force lifted the two dragonlings and gently floated them over to another “egg pedestal” at the side of the room. The little ones looked around and quickly found something that caught their attention.

Their old eggshells.

The dragonlings squealed happily, pouncing on the cracked, dried shells. They began gnawing on the hard fragments and kicking them around in circles, clearly ready to play for a long time. Enya finally relaxed and stopped the ancient lullaby.

The former dragon goddess chuckled softly, teasing, “I never imagined that after ‘retiring,’ I’d be helping care for young dragons like this—especially since I haven’t even hatched yet.”

Gawain’s expression twisted into something between amusement and disbelief. Having an unhatched egg “babysit” two freshly hatched hatchlings was such an absurd idea that even bards wouldn’t dare spin such a tale. And yet, here it was, happening right under his nose.

Melita craned her neck, watching the gleeful hatchlings playing nearby, a worried look crossing her face. After hesitating, she finally spoke up, “…Do you think they don’t recognize me as their ‘mother’?”

“Hard to say,” Gawain muttered seriously. “They didn’t see you first after hatching—it was Enya. She’s the one they’re most familiar with right now. And the food they’ll eat later won’t be prepared by you, but by Betty…”

“What do we do then?” Melita’s anxiety deepened. “If they don’t recognize me, they’ll definitely reject Noretta when she arrives…”

“Melita, I understand you’re worried, but you really don’t need to discuss dragonling matters with a human who hasn’t even grown scales yet,” Enya’s voice sounded again, tinged with mild exasperation. Though she was just an egg, Gawain and Melita felt as if invisible eyes were scanning them. “One of you is bold enough to say it—and the other is bold enough to believe it.”

An awkward silence fell. Gawain rubbed his nose and stayed quiet.

“Don’t worry, Melita. Dragonlings are smart. They can sense the dragon aura in you—I don’t have that. I’m just an unhatched egg,” Enya continued. “You’re the only ‘kin’ they’ve seen so far, which is why they were so close to you earlier. When it comes to recognizing their ‘mother,’ you should trust them.”

“…Oh, that’s a relief,” Melita finally exhaled, feeling a bit embarrassed by her earlier doubts. She awkwardly scratched her nose and forced a smile.

Gawain glanced over at the young dragons nearby, all scrambling over a shard of eggshell, then shifted his gaze to Melita, whose attention seemed completely fixed on the hatchlings. Only then did he pull his eyes away and finally bring up the other matter—the very reason he and Melita had come to the incubation chamber in the first place.

“By the way, Enya, there’s something else we need to discuss today.”

“Something else?” Enya’s tone lifted with curiosity. “What’s happened?”

Melita’s focus snapped back to the conversation. She turned around, her expression serious once more. “Modir Vyrd… does that name ring a bell?”

“Modir…” Enya paused to think, then quickly recalled the events that, to her, felt like they had happened only yesterday. “Ah, yes. That was a human adventurer, wasn’t he? From about six hundred years ago… He appeared off the coast of Talrond. Wait, I remember now—he actually entered the tower. Melita, you were the one who brought him inside.”

“Yes,” Melita nodded. “At the time, I was under the influence of the ‘Reverse Tide’ and led the outsider into the tower. If you hadn’t personally intervened afterward to cleanse both him and me of the corruption, things could have gotten out of hand. And then you blocked my memories of the whole incident until a book—The Travels of Modir—resurfaced, revealing the truth.”

“That’s right. I remember it well… a small matter, but enough to cause concern,” Enya’s voice grew serious. “What’s going on? Why bring this up now?”

“…Modir Vyrd is still alive,” Gawain said quietly. “And he’s returned to Talrond.”

…

Above the arcane network terminal, a faint blue glow flickered. A holographic image from the distant North projected clearly onto the display. Victoria Vyrd’s cold, beautiful face appeared, her gaze fixed on Amber, who stood nervously before the terminal.

Even someone as carefree as Amber couldn’t help but feel a strange pressure in the presence of the so-called “Ice Duke,” the Northern Guardian. This stern, unyielding figure was clearly the natural nemesis of any shadowy strike force.

“Well… that’s basically the situation,” Amber said quickly, forcing herself to get through the explanation under Victoria’s icy stare—which was really just a neutral expression. “I want to stress, this is all on His Majesty’s orders. I have the utmost respect for the dead and their resting places, and I mean no offense to the Vyrd family ancestors. But we do need you to verify your family crypts, because we suspect—”

“No need to verify,” Victoria cut her off before Amber could finish. “Modir Vyrd does not rest in the crypt beneath Winterhold. There is only an empty tomb there. That’s no secret.”

The Northern Guardian took a deep breath and leaned closer to the screen. “Now, I want to hear the full details.”

(End of chapter)