Chapter 5

Ilyshn’ish and Ludmila continued their flight over the Empire, and only the occasional word passed between them as they focused on observing the lands below. Ludmila’s gaze often went to the east as she considered and reconsidered the Frost Dragon’s observations of her conduct.

You wish to lay a foundation based on truth, assured in the rightness of what you build upon it.

It was exactly what she wished for, so Ludmila couldn’t say that Ilyshn’ish did not understand her intent. The Frost Dragon’s pointed argument also merited serious consideration. While she could measure the ‘alignment’ of others with His Majesty’s Will, she could not do so for herself. Furthermore, when Ludmila used the Skill on Ilyshn’ish, she did not appear to be any more out of alignment than Lady Shalltear. With that being the case, it made her question whether she was doing the right thing.

Born and raised as a scion of a Frontier House, Ludmila understood that her views were not the views of a Human that lived in the comfort of a developed and mostly-secure interior. She grew up in a place where danger was ever-present and Demihumans could be found less than a day away. It was not a situation where one could deliberate over crucial decisions in comfort. As Ilyshn’ish noted, everything was either for or against. The stabbing part, however, went both ways.

Perhaps the greatest change to her life that came with the Sorcerous Kingdom was the increased sense of leeway in everything. The idea that threats to their existence loomed just out of sight was gradually dissipating from the perception of the citizens. People no longer needed to worry about starvation. Discretionary income, a thing nearly unheard of in the past, was now in the hands of every tenant. In a single season, a farming household netted more than House Zahradnik had for the last decade.

Foreign threats were even less of a concern. Armies that would normally ruin entire nations could be one-sidedly swept away by a single Frontier Noble and a small contingent of Death-series servitors. No longer did the feeling that everything was balanced on a razor’s edge – that the slightest error in judgement could cost her people everything – weigh on her shoulders.

As such, her approach to foreign threats, and even what she should consider foreign threats, was due for revision. Allowing things to remain as they were would result in her being unqualified for her title and station. Though she was often lauded for the progress she had made as a Noble of the Sorcerous Kingdom, it seemed that she still had a long way to go.

It was past midnight when Ludmila and Ilyshn’ish flew over the Empire’s northern shores. The imperial highway followed the winding coastline as it connected the port cities, towns and villages that drew their livelihoods from the waves.

She had thought that the inland sea southeast of the Katze Plains was quite impressive, but the northern ocean was something she never could have imagined. How the great mariners of song did not get lost in the vast expanse of trackless water was a mystery.

“Do you know what is on the other side of this ocean?” Ludmila asked.

“Up until about three thousand kilometres north of here,” Ilyshn’ish answered, “it looks much the same on the surface. After that, you’ll start seeing icebergs – think of them as floating islands of ice – that have broken off of the Frozen Expanse and drifted south with the current.

“You’ve been there?”

“My mother told me about it once, so I went to take a look. I only got about halfway to the Frozen Expanse until I was chased off by one of the local Frost Dragons. She wasn’t friendly at all, so I suspect that all sorts of unfriendly people live up there. I stopped to speak to a few of the people from the aquatic nations along the way – they’re much friendlier…or maybe they were just trying to avoid being eaten?”

Given how Ilyshn’ish was when they first met, Ludmila suspected that it was the latter.

“How many of these aquatic nations are there? Do they have any connections with the Empire?”

“Considering that there is supposedly more ocean than land, I would say that there are more aquatic nations than terrestrial ones…at least surface ones. I have no idea what goes on in the Realm Below. The area that I flew over had a dozen or so aquatic kingdoms. From what I’ve heard, all nations in the northern ocean are under the dominion or at least the influence of an abyssal empire that lies under the Frozen Expanse. As for their relationship with the Baharuth Empire…I suppose that’s a part of what I’m supposed to be investigating in these coming months.”

Roughly an hour after they crossed far to the north of Arwintar, Ludmila felt Ilyshn’ish shudder beneath her.

“Are you alright, Ilyshn’ish?”

“She’s here.”

Ludmila turned her head, looking for potential threats around them. She then tried following Ilyshn’ish’s gaze, but her head was pointed straight west at the Azerlisia Mountains looming in the distance.

“Who is?”

“That Green Dragon that I smelled when we first crossed into the Empire. She’s down in that forest in the middle of those mountains.”

A ring of mountains, roughly 150 kilometres in diameter, dominated the landscape just ahead. Nestled within it was a large forest. Being that it was in the centre of five major cities, the appearance of the forest was strange. There were no roads or any signs of management: it was simply a huge, primal blotch amidst the well-developed lands surrounding it.

“There is a fortification of some sort on the southeastern end,” Ludmila noted, “but that will not stop a Dragon from just flying out, would it?”

“Of course not,” Ilyshn’ish replied. “If I were to guess, it’s there to stop the Dragon’s minions.”

“What sort of minions would this Dragon have?”

“Whatever lives in that forest,” Ilyshn’ish told her. “That should be what is going on, anyway.”

“You sound fairly confident about all that.”

For someone who had barely explored the world outside of her mountain home and required direct experiences to properly comprehend new concepts and ideas, Ilyshn’ish’s authoritative tone felt out of place.

“It’s a Green Dragon down there, after all.”

“I do not understand what that means.”

“It’s natural for powerful Dragons to gather minions around them,” Ilyshn’ish told her. “Some Dragons treat said minions as slaves, while others rule over them like subjects. Others fancy themselves as benevolent overlords who treat the beings in their territory as precious children under their care. Green Dragons style themselves as masterminds whose machinations manipulate all within their domain.”

“And this domain would be this ring of mountains?”

“Every city you see around these mountains, most likely,” Ilyshn’ish said. “It appears that the Empire is not as monolithic as it seems.”

A furrow appeared over Ludmila’s brow at the Frost Dragon’s statement. She had never heard anything about a quarter of the Empire belonging to a Dragon.

“I’m afraid I don’t have any idea what's going on here.”

“It’s not complicated. This Dragon probably exacts some form of tribute from the cities around it. They can either pay willingly or have it taken from them by force.”

“That doesn’t sound like a ‘mastermind’ to me – just a tyrant.”

“Yes, well, that’s a Green for you,” Ilyshn’ish said. “A paper-thin veneer of civility masking a malignant covetousness only surpassed by Reds. The Sorcerous Kingdom is lucky that we Frost Dragons are simple and honest folk.”

It felt more that Ilyshn’ish and her family were lucky to be Frost Dragons. They wouldn’t have survived Lady Shalltear with the behaviour she attributed to Forest and Fire Dragons.

“I don’t suppose the Empire gets anything out of this arrangement…”

“Continued existence,” Ilyshn’ish seemed to shrug under Ludmila’s legs. “I suppose they are bestowed a sort of protection, as well. Other Dragons would have no qualms pillaging these cities if she wasn’t here. Also, considering the age of the Baharuth Empire, the Dragon was probably here first. It is these Humans who have settled in her domain.”

“So your father would have attacked these cities nearest to the Azerlisia Mountains if it wasn’t a part of this Forest Dragon’s domain?”

“If my father and his consorts did not have Frost Giants to contend with. I suppose if the Frost Giants were never there, the entire area around the Azerlisia Mountains would have probably become tributaries to the Frost Dragons. Not many nations can simply shrug off dozens of Frost Dragons like the Sorcerous Kingdom can. As it stood, however, we couldn’t leave our territory unattended for long.”

Rather than banking north to follow the highway, Ilyshn’ish cut directly over the ring of mountains. Ludmila eyed the forest far below.

“Is this safe?” she asked, “If this Forest Dragon is as powerful as you suggest…”

“I doubt she even knows that we’re here,” Ilyshn'ish told her. “I am the best hunter out of the Frost Dragons who are, in turn, the best hunters of Dragonkind. Well, at least the Frost Dragons around here. I’m sure there are a few Dragon Lords of my kind in the world that can best me when it comes to stealth.”

“Say that she has some way to detect you…”

“Even if she does, it’s like I said earlier: we Dragons don’t stop for every little thing. Additionally, following this highway is more dangerous than directly crossing over her domain should she decide to pursue.”

“How so?” Ludmila asked, “People usually go around threats.”

Ilyshn’ish snorted.

“That is how earthbound beings think,” she said. “In reality, flying high and fast along the shortest route is the best way to avoid interception. Going around means we’d be giving her time to gain altitude and intercept us at a point further to the west. I am a Frost Dragon, and she will assume that I’m going back to the Azerlisia Mountains. Even if she somehow detects me flying over her territory, I highly doubt she will do anything. Pursuit would not only be impossible, but it would make her look a fool should she attempt to do so.”

“I will remember that,” Ludmila nodded. “Thank you for your explanation.”

After completing their crossing over the Forest Dragon’s territory, Ilyshn’ish resumed her course over the imperial highway, banking to follow it back south. Ludmila eyed the cities below.

“I wonder if the Sorcerous Kingdom knows about this Forest Dragon collecting tribute from these cities…”

“Why would it matter?”

“Because the Empire is our protectorate,” Ludmila told Ilyshn’ish. “If what you surmise is truly the case, relying on the ‘protection’ of this Dragon is no longer necessary.”

“What about her being here first?”

“She does not have to go anywhere,” Ludmila replied. “But the tribute will have to stop.”

“No Dragon would accede to that without…I hope you’re not thinking of going down there and picking a fight.”

It would be a lie if Ludmila said she wasn’t even a bit curious about their chances. This was, however, purely academic: there was a proper order that any such challenge would need to follow.

“The Empire’s affairs are still mostly its own,” Ludmila said. “They could request assistance from the Sorcerous Kingdom in the case of this Forest Dragon.”

“From what I’ve heard from Lady Wagner,” Ilyshn’ish replied, “the Empire would rather trust, well, a Green Dragon than the Sorcerous Kingdom.”

“…are Forest Dragons really that terrible?”

“More than I can truly convey,” Ilyshn’ish said. “Greens are insidious – I highly recommend that you avoid engaging in conversation with one entirely. They are your antithesis: they thrive on an intricate tapestry of deception and manipulation, and they savour the power that they hold over those who are ensnared in their traps and schemes.”

“This feels something like the bigotry that you claim Humans display towards other races.”

Their course shifted slightly. Several moments passed before Ilyshn’ish spoke again.

“A Dragon’s nature is much stronger than that of a Human or Demihuman,” she told her. “We are as much the personification of primal forces as we are ‘people’ in the way that you perceive them. This ‘bigotry’ is not bigotry at all: it is about as reliable as assumptions made of the Undead.”

“You are not making a very good case,” Ludmila smirked, “considering your present company.”

“I am making multiple points at once,” Ilyshn’ish said. “Your perception of the Undead is extraordinarily skewed. Enough that you would consider giving naturally manifested intelligent Undead a chance to ‘prove themselves’. It is as if your ‘Human’ self has bled into your Undead existence and those favourable views for one’s own kind are being extended to Undead as well. I’m sure that anyone would declare your circumstances and thinking utterly strange if they were told of them – even the Undead. You do the exact opposite to species that fall outside of your…let’s just call it ‘good graces’, shall we?”

Perhaps she was right about that. She thought it a matter of courtesy when she spoke with Captain Iškur and went to see the other Elder Liches of the Katze Cabal. However, it was likely that events wouldn’t have played out that way if she had been one of the living.

“In that case,” Ludmila said, “what is the nature of a Frost Dragon, and how is it so different from that of a Forest Dragon?”

“You should already know the answer to the first part. Most may describe us as feral, but it is more accurate to say that we are simple and free-spirited.”

“And honest?”

“…and honest.”

Beneath her, Ilyshn’ish seemed to take a deep breath.

“Earlier,” the Frost Dragon said, “you asked me if I would lie if it suited my purposes.”

“That’s right.”

“There are two types of lies,” Ilyshn’ish told her. “The first are the lies you tell – the sort of lie that you were asking about. Second are what you might call ‘true lies’: behaviour that tarnishes the soul. I would employ the former, but never the latter. To avoid the latter, I will employ the former if necessary.”

The strange reasoning gave Ludmila pause. Was she trying to say that lying was a part of her nature, or that she would lie if it meant being true to herself?

“What do you mean by ‘tarnish the soul?’”

“It means what it means. I may seem out of character for what you might consider a Frost Dragon, but make no mistake: at the core of my being, I am as much of a Frost Dragon as the others. Perhaps more so. I will do everything within my power to remain true to my being.”

“That just sounds like you are being willful,” Ludmila furrowed her brow. “You can claim that you took any action for that reason.”

“Doing anything because I can would be just as bad,” Ilyshn’ish glanced back at her. “This isn’t some random and superficial whim I’m speaking of here. As one who now possesses a limitless lifespan, it would do you well to heed what I say. Souls can be tarnished. They can be twisted. Mortal souls are easily tarnished and twisted, but they are mortal and their souls will return to the world before long. As an immortal, you do not want this to happen to you. Perhaps, as one of the Undead, you will be subject to some compulsion that helps you remain untarnished, but this is not guaranteed to be the case.”

“What happens when the soul becomes tarnished?”

Ilyshn’ish’s scales rippled in disgust – one of many expressions Ludmila would not have picked up on if she hadn’t had the Frost Dragon’s Human-like appearances to use as a reference against her true one.

“You change,” Ilyshn’ish told her. “Perhaps you might even welcome it for a while, and perhaps others will express their approval over that change. But the dissonance will grow within your soul and eventually it will warp.”

“That does not seem as bad as you make it sound.”

“It may be as you say, for some,” Ilyshn’ish admitted, “but it will be terrible for you. You simply don’t understand this because you have not yet truly realised what you are. There is a purpose to your existence, and you were chosen because you are ideal for that purpose. If you no longer serve that purpose, the world will no longer suffer your existence. You are extraordinarily fortunate that I am around to watch out for you.”

Ludmila clenched her fists over her lap. Why did it always feel that there was more going on in her life than she knew, and others knew more about what was going on than she did? If she weren’t on the receiving end of everything, she would have dismissed what they said as cryptic nonsense.

“Then…would you lie to me, Ilyshn’ish?”

“No.”

“Was that a lie?”

A long silence stretched on between them.

『No.』

Ludmila frowned as Ilyshn’ish’s voice sounded in her head. No, it wasn’t Ilyshn’ish’s voice, it was Ilyshn’ish herself.

What was that?

『Telepathy, of course.』

“I wasn’t aware that you were capable of telepathy.”

Sardonic mirth seemed to fill her mind. Ilyshn’ish’s presence was cool, yet warm at the same time.

『In a limited sense, I am. As are you. This telepathy is a sign of our bond: the one between a Ranger and her companion.』