Chapter 9

After confirming one last time how well they ‘went together’, Lady Shalltear teleported away, and Ludmila was left alone on the riverbank with Ilyshn’ish=Verilyn. The Frost-Dragon-turned-Snow-Elf remained where she was, her head turning as she tried to look in every direction at once. It was an indescribable sight, as her true appearance overlapped with her Elven one: the Dragon head swivelled around so quickly and she thought it might come flying off if it had really been there.

“Is something the matter?” Ludmila asked.

Ilyshn’ish stopped looking around, body visibly tensing as she focused her gaze in her direction. Ludmila couldn’t help but continue to compare her two appearances: the Snow Elf had irises of bright silver; the Frost Dragon, glowing topaz. Both blinked in unison at her.

“Many things are ‘the matter’,” Ilyshn’ish’s voice was filled with complaint. “I came here because Lady Shalltear reassigned me, then I got blasted out of the sky by sheep. Now, I’m some Human’s property! Well, do your worst, Human!”

Ilyshn’ish balled up her fists against her sides and squeezed her eyes shut. Ludmila wasn’t sure what to make of her true appearance.

“Why are you doing that?” She finally said.

“This is the same thing that happened to my brother,” Ilyshn’ish replied in mournful tones. “The Sorcerer King gave him to Lady Aura and he ended up as her pet! That’s what Lady Shalltear wanted, wasn’t it?”

“It’s true that Rangers sometimes have companions,” Ludmila said, “but Lady Aura is the first outside of the legends that I know of having something like a Dragon.”

“I’m not ‘something’!” Ilyshn'ish huffed.

How could she be so defiant and resigned at the same time? Ludmila cleared her throat.

“The point is that I’m nowhere near powerful enough to tame a Dragon like another Ranger might tame a wild beast if that’s what you were expecting.”

“Oh?” Ilyshn’ish peeked at her with one eye before turning her head away. “I-I guess that’s too bad, then. If that’s the case, we should just forget about it, yes?”

“Don’t worry,” Ludmila said. “I will do my utmost to carry out Lady Shalltear’s instructions. Fortunately for us, there is another way…”

Ilyshn’ish skittered away at her words, moving all the way to the water’s edge. Were Dragons really so timid? They looked powerful and majestic when flying over E-Rantel. In written histories and bardic renderings both, they were fierce adversaries that could only be defeated by powerful heroes. There were even a few that were styled as gods.

“Is there a reason to be so frightened?” Ludmila asked in a quizzical voice, “You are much more powerful than I am.”

“I have no idea what sort of tricky tricks you have,” Ilyshn’ish said. “Besides, I have absolutely no desire to be a pet!”

“Then this other method will not work,” Ludmila sighed.

“It won’t?”

“You must be a consenting partner to the relationship. Since you are not willing…”

“I’m definitely not.”

“Is there any particular reason why?”

“How would you feel if you were turned into a pet?”

“Does your brother voice any complaints about being one of Lady Aura’s companions?”

“No, but he’s probably the closest thing to a deviant among us.”

Ludmila restrained a sigh. As eager as she was to get along with her new acquaintance, there was no point in pressing her when they had just met. Even if she learned everything that Lady Shalltear wished of her, Ilyshn’ish had been made a permanent resident of Ludmila’s demesne, so they would have plenty of opportunities to interact in the future.

“Well,” Ludmila moved on, “the priority, for now, is to prepare you for your work in the Empire. Will you be taking any issue with that?”

“I-I don’t think so…”

“Good,” Ludmila smiled. “Then we will focus on that first. Once we get to know one another better, perhaps you’ll change your mind abou–”

“No.”

Ludmila’s cheek twitched. Lady Shalltear was right: despite the mysterious allure she exuded, this Frost Dragon demonstrated behaviours that would more easily pass as those of a Frontier Noble than a prim and proper inner noble. The cold beauty of her Snow Elf appearance also went well with that impression.

“It is rude to interrupt,” she admonished Ilyshn’ish in calm tones. “In addition to mentoring you in the legal framework of the Sorcerous Kingdom and its policies, I must ensure that you meet a bare minimum standard of aristocratic knowledge and etiquette as well.”

“What’s the purpose of that?” Ilyshn’ish furrowed her brow, “The Sorcerous Kingdom is so ridiculously powerful that all others have no choice but to bend. Why even pretend that rules and behaviour even matter?”

Compared to Chief Esess, who was mostly calm and quiet while receiving instruction, it seemed that Ilyshn’ish had no qualms expressing her own ideas about how things should be. Ludmila supposed that it was the response that a powerful Dragon, who was accustomed to being answerable to no one, might give. In Human society, however, it was the destructive mindset of criminals and megalomaniacs who could ruin the work of multiple generations in a very short span of time.

She understood that the Sorcerous Kingdom was not a wholly Human society, but they did not employ their unfathomable power in such an arbitrary and reckless manner. His Majesty was held up as a supreme sovereign by Lady Shalltear; an absolute ruler – but, with the matchless might of his reign, came order, structure and security. His was a nation where all could find their own place to live and prosper; a civilized society far above both the savagery of Demihuman tribes and the pretence of nations that lacked the means to enforce their policies.

“Because they do,” Ludmila told her. “His Majesty’s laws and policies are to be upheld in every circumstance. This is particularly important for anyone who represents the Sorcerous Kingdom in an official capacity, be they a member of the Royal Court or a sentry in a village crossroads.”

“Lady Shalltear said that I’ll be representing her,” Ilyshn’ish replied. “What does the Sorcerous Kingdom have to do with anything?”

“Lady Shalltear has her own interests and ambitions, but they are ultimately secondary to His Majesty’s Will. If you do something that you believe will please Lady Shalltear, but it runs afoul of His Majesty’s laws and policies, rather than being pleased, she will be furious.”

Ilyshn’ish’s face twisted in befuddlement. Ludmila observed her true appearance, wondering if her draconic expressions mirrored her humanoid ones. Ilyshn’ish peered at her suspiciously.

“Why do you keep looking around me like that?” She asked, “I’ve heard that Humans are effectively blind in the dark – are you just trying to guess where I am by the sound of my voice?”

“I have no issues with seeing in the dark,” Ludmila replied, continuing to compare Ilyshn’ish’s two appearances. “I’ve read that Frost Dragons learn better through experience. Is this true?”

“Yes…”

“How about we do that, then?”

“Do what?”

“I will induct you into the aristocracy of the Sorcerous Kingdom,” Ludmila said, “as a titled member of the gentry. Rather than having to rely on texts, verbal instruction, and the imitation of behaviour, you will learn everything required of your position by practising it in truth. Achieving the conduct expected of a member of the gentry should fulfil most of Lady Shalltear’s requirements for dealing in the Empire.”

“I-is that something you can do?”

“I am legally entitled to do so,” Ludmila nodded. “With the advent of the Sorcerous Kingdom, however, there’s been no real need to exercise this power for its original purpose.”

Ilyshn’ish fell silent, her face painted with a look of intense concentration. She tilted her head back and forth in thought, then looked Ludmila straight in the eye.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” the Dragon said.

Not only was she more difficult than Chief Esess, she knew far less on the subject matter and arbitrarily rejected what she didn’t agree with. At what point did she need to be ‘poked’? Ludmila stood silently amidst the sounds of the wind and the current, trying to figure out how she could convey herself effectively to Ilyshn’ish.

“I will be granting you a portion of my land,” Ludmila explained. “Your right of this land’s ownership is called a ‘title’. With this title will come a contract outlining the rights and obligations that must be maintained for as long as you hold it. Primarily, it is to provide you with a suitable residence, so it should not be too complicated. In addition, you will learn what you need to learn through practical experience as one who holds a title. Since you are a Dragon, there will probably be a number of special dispensations, but the contract between us should be roughly similar to what a Knight holds.”

“A Knight?” Ilyshn’ish started wringing her hands, “M-me? Do I have to go around riding a horse, slaying other Dragons?”

“Those are just stories,” Ludmila smirked. “In reality, a Knight is normally granted their title in exchange for military service. Many regular Knights indeed aspire to the more traditional image attributed to them, but it is not required. One only needs to be able to fulfil their obligations to retain their title, and powerful individuals can do so through their own means. To be frank, a Dragon is something like an ideal Knight for a border territory, though this notion would probably never cross the minds of most.”

Far from it, a nation would probably hire Adventurers or field their champions in an attempt to kill the Dragon, or at least drive it away. Had it actually been a missed opportunity this entire time? The Argland Confederation on Re-Estize’s northwestern border was presided over by a council of Dragons, so it was hard to imagine that the thought hadn’t occurred to someone at some point. Then again, it was generally untenable for a noble to have a vassal that they couldn’t suppress if they decided to rebel.

The worry in Ilyshn’ish’s expression grew as Ludmila spoke, and she looked about to cry.

“You’re…you’re going to make me fight?”

“You will be obligated to render military service…do Dragons not defend their territory?”

“They do…sort of?” Ilyshn’ish said, “We have a range that we may or may not share with others, depending on who they are. Our old range in the Azerlisia Mountains was filled with other peoples – the only ones we truly fought were the Frost Giants. Everything else was beneath our notice.”

“I see. I always thought that Dragons would be more competitive when it came to their territory.”

“Our territories are vast,” Ilyshn’ish said, “so it matters little if one tribe or another – or even a whole nation – exists within our territories. We only really fight things that represent a threat to us…maybe not even then. I’ve recently come across some horrible stories where a Dragon has been quietly living its life somewhere for centuries and some upstart Human nation sends assassins after them! It all appears self-serving to me. They even prop up the assassin as a hero…one day I’ll find the bigot who comes up with these shameless fabrications and have a word with them.”

Ludmila briefly tried to imagine a world where Dragons were the victims of unwarranted aggression, then shook her head. They were digressing from the topic at hand.

“As a Frontier Noble, my principal obligation is to defend the border of the Sorcerous Kingdom from intruders. As the Knight of a Frontier Noble, your duties would be to assist me in this. Honestly, the most valuable service you might be able to render in this regard is more related to a Dragon’s mobility and keen senses. If you do not wish to fight personally, you can still identify threats and bring them to the attention of the Undead security forces.”

“I’ll have power over Death Knights and Elder Liches?” Ilyshn’ish perked up a bit.

“It is not your power,” Ludmila told her. “It is the authority vested in you to allow you to perform your duties in His Majesty’s name. His Majesty’s servitors will heed your orders in light of this. Be cautioned, however: abuse of authority will, at the least, lead to the loss of it. If your transgression is severe enough, you will be executed.”

Ilyshn’ish cringed away with a whimper. Ludmila fixed her with a stern look.

“This is the price of a title: the obligations that come with your rights and powers. If Lady Shalltear says that you are to represent her, you must be capable of managing at least this much. The power of the Sorcerous Kingdom can shatter empires overnight; those entrusted with the direction of its power must be capable of wielding it appropriately.”

“Do you mean to say that every noble in the Sorcerous Kingdom has this power?” Ilyshn’ish asked, “Even the really weak ones that you see in the city?”

“No,” Ludmila shook her head. “Regular nobles do hold a degree of this authority in their respective territories, but only Frontier Nobles maintain a contract that allows them to exercise this power beyond their borders.”

“Does that mean I can go out and pillage our neighbours under you?”

Why did she go straight to that? Wasn’t she frightened of everything? The question was something still undergoing deliberations in the Royal Court. The subjects of the Sorcerous Kingdom were not allowed to eat fellow subjects – though exceptions for special relationships like the one shared by the Krkonoše did exist – but how subjects treated non-subjects outside of the Sorcerous Kingdom’s borders was a matter of some debate.

The Sorcerous Kingdom had a benign and mostly open foreign policy and desired to promote itself as a safe and civilized nation that stood superior to all others. While it was accepted by the Royal Court that different races and cultures had their own customs and behaviours, belligerent acts conducted by their subjects against other nations would be decidedly detrimental to that image. Thus, as far as could be determined, the Sorcerous Kingdom’s subjects were only allowed a free hand in territories unmanaged by any recognized nation. The three regions of note in the vicinity were the Katze Plains, which was a cursed wasteland where nothing lived, the Abelion Wilderness, and most of the Azerlisia Mountains, as the majority of the Dwarf Kingdom was underground.

“You will learn what is appropriate and what is not during the course of your instruction,” Ludmila said. “I believe it would be best to start with the basics that you should be able to immediately grasp.”

“Erm, yes – let’s do that.”

“Then first, we should find you a suitable demesne. Is there someplace you would prefer to make your home? I do not have the fancy rooms that they built in E-Rantel, but I do have a lot of undeveloped land.”

"Someplace high and cool,” Ilyshn’ish said. “Actually, it doesn’t need to be cool – our lairs will freeze over time as long as they are claimed.”

“Is that why the wall under the Dragon Aerie in the city is frozen?”

“It is,” Ilyshn’ish nodded. “We were told to refrain from doing any more than that, though.”

“Then…” Ludmila turned to point over the river to the southeast, “how about that mountain? It is the highest peak in the eastern barrier range. You can even cool it down as much as you wish.”

The mountain she indicated dominated the southeastern quarter of the horizon, looming high above the southern half of Warden’s Vale. Above the treeline, its bare heights resembled a towering fortress, and the winter snows that accumulated upon it did not fully melt away until midsummer. It had a story-like quality to it that begged the imagination to populate it with all manner of powerful creatures. Ludmila figured that she may as well house one there in truth.

Rather than a Knight that slew Dragons or a Knight that rode Dragons, her Knight would be a Dragon. It felt like just the thing one might expect out of a nation like the Sorcerous Kingdom.

“R-really?” Ilyshn’ish’s gaze followed Ludmila’s gesture, “The whole mountain?”

“Is it too much?”

“N-not at all!” Ilyshn’ish stepped forward to take Ludmila’s hands in hers, “I’ll take it!”

“Then it will be yours to manage in my name,” Ludmila smiled. “The way this has all come about has been rather unconventional, and there are still many details to work out, but I look forward to a long and fruitful relationship together with you, Dame Verilyn.”