Polymath Redux

Chapter 23//Playing War games

Accompanied by the meditative tempo of the horse’s hooves and the slow turning of wooden axels, Demon Lord Morialia’s conquest was proceeding at a very… ‘leisurely’ pace. “Oww… my butt…” she silently voiced her weeping complaint while softly massaging her behind. Under the command of her spiteful owner, the mission was to oppress… ‘politely induct’ the gold dragons of the north into the ‘New Demon Lord’s Army’, yet she somehow found herself hitching a lackadaisical ride towards the north. “Damn, walking would’ve been faster… and more comfortable.”

“Even though I’m the Demon Lord, why do I have to suffer something this torturous?!” she shouted.

“Eh? You all right, missy?” hearing her screams, the aged driver of the cart who had so kindly let her ride with him turned back to check.

“No, it’s none of your concern,” she sighed. “That damned master of mine, just wait and see! I’ll use this newly established army of mine to teach him a lesson he won’t forget! Yes… Yes! That’s right! It shall be the rebirth of the great Demon Lord! Muahaha… hahahaahaa! Hah! Ow… it hurts…”

“Right… well, if there’s no problem,” the driver shrugged, concluding that it was merely the squirms of a delusional child.

“Now then,” she said to herself as she took out a small black box from her pocket and tilted her head to one side. “I still don’t get what this is for…” It had been an item given to her by Mordred and supposedly it was to ‘complete the overall image’.

“So missy, you were going to the dragon country?” asked the elderly driver of the cart. “I don't know why such a young girl like yourself is going to this dangerous place but do be careful, you hear?”

“I will keep it in mind,” she replied as she scanned over the map she received. It was a domain entirely of large mountainous ranges of rock and dirt. ‘I don’t really want to go somewhere that dull,’ she pulled a long face while groaning as though a child being forcefully brought to Sunday school. She knew dragons were a tough crowd that could thrive almost anywhere, but why did they always choose such boring locales? She personally preferred a more… opulent landscape; despite everything, she was still a young girl… at heart anyway.

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- Three days earlier –

“Hah?! Why do I have to walk all the way there?!” as Morialia was all set for her merry conquest and subjugation, her master stopped her one last time to issue a small addendum. That was, he wanted her to walk for most of the journey.

“You don’t have to walk for the entire journey, but it will be a pain if you’re rushing through with your powers and caught anyone’s attention. I honestly don’t trust that you have enough mental capacity to behave and keep yourself out of sight. At the very least, when you’re near human settlements use a carriage or walk.”

“But, but wouldn’t it be suspicious anyway if they saw a young, beautiful, charming, pretty and amazing little girl walking around by herself? If it’s going to be like that then who cares if one or two people see me?!”

For some reason her master scoffed condescendingly at the way she described herself. “Well, it might be, but it’s infinitely worse for my future plans if someone caught you doing anything. Besides, it’s only until the northern borders, so once you reach the edge of Drakenholdt territory, you’re free to do whatever you want.”

“But… but…! Mmmmmmhhh!! Fine, if it’s like that then I guess it can’t be helped.”

“There’s also the matter of these ‘annoying flies’ that are buzzing around me at all times,” she had noticed it as well, but ever since that woman- Petra- returned to the capital there had been suspicious men lurking around thinking they’re well-hidden. “I can’t say it was unexpected after letting that woman go, but this First Prince works especially fast. I’m quite impressed really. For this reason, my hands are currently tied, so I want you to take your time with this conquest.”

“Why can’t you just kill them? You’re the sort of guy who wouldn’t hesitate to wipe out an entire village or two just for a slight advantage to your own position, right?”

“That would bring its own set of headaches; they should leave once they’re satisfied anyway. Aside from the encroaching prospect of all-out-war with the neighbouring Empire, there’s nothing too time critical in my schedule. So, just take your time playing with the dragons.”

“Exactly how long are you expecting me to take with these flying lizards?”

“It shouldn’t take you more than a few days but stretch it out to about a month.”

“An entire month…”

“I’d estimate the travel time alone would take around three weeks. Why not take this opportunity to go sightseeing around the countryside?”

“Eh… Well, whatever. I’ll figure something out and take my time then.”

“Right, and before you go, take this,” her master tossed over a small black box made of stone. She inspected it but couldn’t really understand what it was.

“And this is…?”

“It’s a chair.”

“Huh? A… a chair? Why are you giving me a chair?” Thinking back on it, in their previous world humans were strangely obsessed over chairs. There were all sorts of chairs from quaint wooden ones to ornate thrones. She never really understood their fascination over them, and even now it was a kind of mystery to not just her but all the demons. Was there some secret meaning to this chair?

Her master, realizing her confusion, let out an amused chuckle. “it’s a special kind of chair to complete the overall image. All great and powerful tyrants started with their chairs.”

She seriously didn’t understand what that was supposed to mean. Sure, she had her own throne at the Demon Lord’s castle, but it wasn’t something they had put such emphasis on. “Well, don’t think too deeply into it. I think you’ll enjoy it anyway. All you need to do is smash that box and the chair will automatically be summoned.”

“Right… okay then, I’ll be off.”

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Suffice it to say, the champion of the red dragons was a young one. His fresh scales reflected the light of the sun with a brilliant sanguine lustre, and there was nary a scar upon his well-trained body. For the dragons who loved to exert their dominance over others through sheer physical stature, there was no doubt this one would be a serious contender. In his draconic form he dwarfed over all the others; they were like toys before a brazen child.

He breathed a fiery ferociousness and his eyes reflected a single-minded murderous focus. He stared down the Golden Dragon King- Aurendra Sinclair- who had returned to his more humanoid form equipped with an ornate golden shield and golden sword. The dragon king knew, that this would be a simple battle, not even a battle really.

‘Too tense, too green,’ Aurendra gauged and let out a long, disappointed sigh while shaking his head. It was just typical of the younger generations to believe physical size trumped everything in battle. Perhaps such naïve ideas may work against humans or other smaller races, but against fellow dragons was such a fatal misconception. ‘Do they understand nothing?’ the question pondering in his mind was directed at both the enemy and his own forces that seemed to dread the red dragon champion’s grandiose arrival.

“Why do you contest me in that form?” asked the mighty red dragon. His voice alone echoed powerfully through the valleys and mountains. The fighting between the gold dragons and the red dragons came to a halt as they both retreated behind their respective lines. This was more a customary gesture between dragons; they would let their champions fight one on one if ever they came across each other.

“That’s because you’re a whelp,” the dragon king replied sarcastically. “Perhaps it is a little early for you to be playing war games, no?” he asked. He could see it in the way the red dragon champion moved, and how easily he had been taunted by that insult. There was no question as to whether he was a champion or not, but if it was true then he was definitely a very recent addition to the rank.

‘The wisest becomes their king, yet I sense no wisdom in this reckless skirmish. Or is there something else they’re after?’ Aurendra wondered to himself. The red dragons should’ve been more structured and organized compared to the golden dragon that had a more liberal view of the world. A wise king… no, even a normal person would’ve seen that this red dragon champion was no match for Aurendra. However, that wasn’t the only thing; the red dragons’ forces were horribly organized and would’ve been much more apt described as a meandering horde.

“Do not mock me, king of gold,” replied the red dragon’s champion. He growled as he spat a volley of excessively hot, liquid flames. Each type of dragon had a ‘home element’; for the red dragons it was fire, and for the gold dragons it was lightning. That said, they weren’t exactly stuck with those attributes, merely more effective at using them. The red dragons’ flame was known to cause a burn that would never cease if hit by them.

Of course, the dragon king had no trouble dealing with this level of attack. With a gigantic swing of his golden shield, like a fan, he blew away the flames as though they were tissue paper.

“What is your name?” asked Aurendra.

“Names?” asked the red champion as he loomed over with his gargantuan size. “Traitors need not know such things!” he shouted while slamming down with his claws. The ground shook as though they were terrified, and clouds of dust fumed in the air. Yet, like Atlas shouldering the celestial heavens, the small figure of the dragon king showed no signs of panic as he casually supported the weight of the red champion with his shield.

“Traitor? Is that why you red dragons attacked? Exactly what have we betrayed?”

“For the king of the gold dragons to not even understand his own sins,” the red champion looked back at him as though he almost pitied them.

“Child, I need no pity from you. Only answers.”

Perhaps after that initial blocking of his attacks, the red champion instinctively understood that he was no match. He obediently replied and declared the sins of the golden dragons. “We have heard the voices of god,” he suddenly blurted. “They have told us of your grave sins. That in order to preserve your own pathetic lives, you have sold this world and delivered it to the hands of the invaders!”

“The voices of god?” Aurendra was mighty confused. Dragons were a notoriously proud race, one might even say arrogant. They certainly weren’t known to lower their heads to anyone- not even gods. So then, why were these red dragons suddenly talking about gods as if they were subordinate to one? “What are you talking about? And just who are these invaders?”

“Do not lie! We know you’ve allied yourself with them!” the red champion roared.

“Explain, you nitwit. Do you really have a brain under there? Exactly where do you see these ‘invaders’?”

The red champion looked around. Indeed, there were only red and gold dragons. “The invaders… they come to this world and corrupt it with their presence,” he explained in a low scowl. “I have been told! They have been here before! With Dreamland! With the unruly imperial corporations! With the war cults! Even the elven nation of Ygdra! They have come before and will come again! They will destroy this world!”

The red champion’s mental state clearly started to deteriorate. None of what he was saying made sense anymore and was merely repeating that something will come to destroy this world. It was unbecoming for a noble dragon to reduce themselves to such an unstable degree. The only act of mercy was to put them out of their misery.

Aurendra tightened the grip around his word and took a deep breath. “These are no longer dragons, merely minions of something else…”