Chapter 1205: Sweeping Over the Wasteland
After two young dragons had eaten their fill, they ran wild in circles around the incubation chamber several times, finally burning off their boundless energy. On this autumn afternoon, the first pair of sisters born outside Talrond in over a million years nestled together in their makeshift “nest,” necks draped over each other, tails entwined, tiny claws clutching a blanket patterned with delicate blue orchids.
A few pieces of eggshell lay pressed beneath their wings and tails—chosen as their “pillows.” Clearly, dragon hatchlings and human infants weren’t so different when it came to sleep; their postures were just as carefree and unrestrained.
Melita carefully watched over the two little dragons, reaching out to straighten the tangled blankets and throws the hatchlings had messed up. These human-made fabrics weren’t designed for dragons, but the hatchlings didn’t seem to mind. As long as they could pile soft, warm things into a cozy little nest, the newborns could sleep soundly.
“Have you thought about where you’ll settle these two little ones?” Gawain asked, watching Melita’s somewhat clumsy movements. “Are you planning to keep them here?”
“I want to take them back to the embassy, keep them with me and Noretta,” Melita said after a moment’s thought, shaking her head gently. “Since we claimed this dragon egg, Noretta and I should take responsibility. Leaving the egg with you during incubation already made me feel uneasy—and they need to grow up around real dragons to learn what it means to be ‘true dragons.’ Otherwise…”
The blue dragon hesitated, then gave Gawain a strange smile. “Otherwise, I just feel like if they stayed with you, they’d grow up… weird.”
Gawain immediately felt compelled to respond, but before he could speak, images flashed through his mind: Tyr prowling the corridors, Rebecca being chased by Hetty, Amber sneaking in through a barely closed door, and Betty watering Enya’s plants. The urge to defend himself dissolved into a long sigh lodged in his throat. He covered his face and turned away. “…You’re right. This environment probably isn’t the best place for juvenile dragons to grow up.”
There were just too many oddballs around him. Who knew what strange things two hatchlings with no real worldview would pick up living here? It was definitely safer to let them go back with Melita. Still, Gawain was curious how all these unusual characters had ended up together—looking back, it felt like he’d accidentally collected a whole bunch of buffs.
Melita stifled a laugh at Gawain’s changing expressions, then cleared her throat to break the awkward silence. “The embassy isn’t far from here. The little ones can come visit often—I’m sure they’ll miss the atmosphere of this incubation chamber, and… and Lady Enya here.”
From the golden egg nearby came a soft, gentle laugh. Enya seemed in high spirits. “If you want to take them back, wait until they wake up. Hatchlings have stronger cognitive and comprehension abilities than other young creatures, which means sudden changes in environment can cause them clear stress and confusion. So don’t move them while they’re asleep. Instead, let them understand that their mothers are bringing them from one safe place to another…”
“Also, remember to bring their eggshells and these blankets with you. It will give them a sense of security.”
“Once at their new home, spend plenty of time with them. If possible, have the other dragons at the embassy greet the hatchlings, so they realize they live within a ‘clan.’ But don’t introduce too many unfamiliar faces at once—they’ll get confused and might even have trouble recognizing their mother’s scent…”
Enya patiently gave Melita detailed instructions. Melita listened carefully, nodding seriously. Gawain watched quietly, a strong sense of déjà vu washing over him. When the lesson ended, he couldn’t help but ask Enya, “I thought you said you had no practical experience raising hatchlings… how do you know so much about this?”
“I have no experience actually incubating eggs—nor could I,” Enya replied casually. “But I never said I lacked theoretical knowledge. I remember many things from the old ways of incubation!”
Gawain detected a strong note of pride and satisfaction in the former dragon goddess’s tone, but he suspected she wasn’t telling the whole truth. Even if she retained some memories from the ancient era of the “gods,” theoretical knowledge from a divine perspective wouldn’t be so detailed. Maybe she’d secretly taken lessons from someone?
He didn’t voice this suspicion. It wasn’t important. Instead, he smiled faintly and turned his gaze back to the two hatchlings sleeping entwined in the blankets. They shifted, snuggling into new positions. Suddenly, a question popped into his mind.
“By the way, Melita, have you thought of names for them yet?”
Melita’s expression turned a bit awkward. After a moment’s thought, she shook her head. “Noretta and I had discussed some names before, but we never expected the egg to be a double yolk. Now there are two hatchlings instead of one. I plan to talk with Noretta again once we’re back. The previous name options are off the table…”
Gawain nodded, then watched as the two hatchlings fidgeted in their sleep. One of them nestled its neck near its eggshell pillow, then suddenly opened its mouth and let out an adorable, satisfied burp—a wisp of blue smoke curling from its lips.
Gawain’s smile vanished instantly. He turned to Melita. “Before we talk about anything else, I think we should enchant all the flammable things around these two with fire protection…”
In the study of Cecil Palace, Veronica stood by the large floor-to-ceiling window, clutching her platinum scepter. Her gaze lingered long on the courtyard’s main gate, lost in thought. Only when the door opened behind her did the “Saint Princess” turn around, seeing Gawain enter.
“Your Majesty,” Veronica offered a faint smile and a slight nod. “Good afternoon.”
“It’s already evening,” Gawain said, glancing outside. The sun was sinking behind the city’s skyline, its radiant crown casting a faintly distorted light through the clouds. “Sorry, I was delayed a bit at the incubation chamber.”
“That’s all right. I haven’t been waiting long,” Veronica replied with a smile, then asked curiously, “Did the dragon ambassador take the two hatchlings back?”
“Yes. Hatchlings should live with their ‘mothers’—and there are many of their kin at the embassy,” Gawain nodded casually. “Enya seemed a bit reluctant to see them go…”
“Human nature…” Veronica murmured thoughtfully, then shook her head. “I never imagined that one day, dragon offspring would hatch in a human kingdom, that dragon envoys would be stationed in the city, and that races from all corners of the world would gather in one place—including visitors from the deep sea… This was once only a scene in the poems and dramas of the Gondor era’s fantasies. Now it’s real.”
“Is that what you were thinking about by the window?” Gawain asked, surprised. “I thought you usually wouldn’t get sentimental about things like this…”
“I have lived for many years, so I must maintain my own sense of self. Losing awareness and understanding of the world’s changes is a dangerous sign—it means the soul is dying. But I guess you didn’t call me here to discuss this,” Veronica smiled. “Miss Betty said you had important matters to discuss, but she seemed busy and didn’t elaborate.”
“…She probably forgot,” Gawain shrugged, then grew serious. “Your original body… it’s still deep underground in the ancient Gondor capital, right? In the remnants of the Deep Blue Well?”
Veronica’s smile didn’t waver, but she shifted her scepter slightly, showing surprise at the question. “Why do you suddenly ask? Of course, my ‘original body’ is beneath the Deep Blue Well. I mentioned this to you before…”
“Can you monitor the flow of magic deep within the Deep Blue Well?” Gawain asked gravely. “I mean… the structures behind the magic source, the ones that run through the entire planet…”
“You mean the Deep Blue Nexus,” Veronica’s expression finally changed, her tone serious. “What’s happened?”
“Enya has noticed some troubling signs,” Gawain didn’t hesitate to share what he’d learned at the incubation chamber. “The newborn hatchlings show traces of corruption by pure magical energy. Given the dragons’ unique affinity for magic, she suspects this is a sign of rising magic levels in the Deep Blue Nexus. Something similar happened two million years ago, when the planet-wide magic system suddenly shifted, causing prolonged extreme climate.”
“Magic rising in the Nexus?!” Veronica’s eyes widened. The usually composed “Leader of the Rebellion” couldn’t hide her shock—this was beyond her previous experience and understanding of the Deep Blue Well.
“That does sound incredible—after all, it’s part of the vast system running beneath our feet, as ancient and stable as the earth itself. In two hundred years, it’s only changed once—less often than magical storms or divine disasters,” Gawain shook his head. “But Enya’s warning can’t be ignored. I want to know if you can help.”
“…Over the past few centuries, I’ve devoted more than half my efforts to studying that magic source, including monitoring its depths,” Veronica answered immediately. “I haven’t detected any abnormalities. At least in the ‘streams’ I can currently observe, the magic flows as usual.”
Gawain frowned. “Can you expand your monitoring range? If this is truly a sign of a large-scale shift, we’ll need more data to confirm…”
“Unfortunately, I’m powerless,” Veronica interrupted. “That’s the Gondor Wasteland. I have limited resources and energy there, and much of my effort goes into combating the harsh environment encroaching on the refuge. Maintaining the status quo is already difficult—I have no spare capacity to monitor more magic streams.”
“…I understand. Sorry, my demands were a bit too high.” Upon hearing Veronica’s reply, Gawain immediately realized how unrealistic his expectations had been. He furrowed his brow slightly and couldn’t help but shift his gaze toward the nearby wall, where a “Map of the Known World” hung.
His eyes slowly traced the map, passing over the Imperial Capital, the Dark Mountains, the vast Black Forest, and the tainted Ribbon Plains, until they finally settled on a gray, hazy wasteland—an area so poorly documented that it was almost devoid of detail.
Veronica noticed Gawain’s gaze and followed it, her eyes resting on the center of the wasteland.
That was the only part of the wasteland with any “detail,” the sole “known” zone. The massive Gondor crater lay like an ugly scar, silent and still amid the polluted gray expanse. At the very heart of that crater was where she now truly dwelled.
This body called “Veronica” was nothing more than an interactive platform wandering beyond the grand walls. Compared to the faint signals this physical shell received, she was far more attuned to the biting winds howling over the old Imperial Capital, the foul air, the poisoned earth, and the pure magical energy flowing like the “blood of the world” within the Deep Blue Well.
“…I can hold out in the wasteland for quite some time, but I’m afraid this world won’t grant you much more time,” she said softly, looking at Gawain. “My Iron Legion and I are all waiting for your support.”
…
Southeast of the Dark Mountains, at the far edge of the Black Forest, the great eagles sliced through the sky. The setting sun’s golden rays pierced the clouds, casting brilliant light on these majestic, formidable creatures and painting the land below with sharp shadows and defined lines in the slanting glow.
Dozens of giant eagles flew in formation, most bearing the royal insignia.
Among them sat Azmor, the ancient Druid leader with the longest lineage in elven society, perched atop one of the great eagles. Around him flew the “Royal Eagle Riders” assigned to escort him. Though separated by the air between them, the old druid could almost feel the taut tension radiating from his guards—they watched him with a vigilance that surpassed even their attention to the queen traveling with the group.
But Azmor only smiled and turned his focus back to the land slowly receding beneath the eagle’s wings.
Using some intricate magical devices, he cast an ancient spell to synchronize his vision with the eagle’s eyes. Through this enhanced sight, he beheld the sprawling Black Forest, the corrupted wasteland, the towering Dark Mountains, and…
A faint stretch of artificial lights flickering between the forest and the polluted zone.
(End of chapter)