“So you want to know how to kill a dragon ? It's easy, there are three steps :

First, find a dragon !

Then, kill it !

Finally, get famous !

Get it ? No ? You imbeciles ! That's why I can't stand teaching snotty-nosed brats.

-Roharl giving a lesson on dragon-slaying to first year students”

* * *

Azcheron

“An expedition to the Desolate Lands, you say...”

Anton was sitting in the armchair of his office in the Academy, pinching the bridge of his nose and frowning. The dim light of the morning sun casted a ghostly glow in the office through the thick, opaque glass window. There was one windowpane that looked different from the others, probably a new one.

Anton didn't seem extremely pleased by what had just came out of the mouth of a grinning Azcheron.

“Is that the only reason you want to meet a Dragon tongue specialist ?”

Of course not ! But there's no way I'm confessing all my crimes in advance ! This one is plenty enough.

“Of course, why else ?”

“Mnngh... I know that one guy, his office is in the easternmost tower. A linguist with loose ethics who wouldn't mind helping you dig your own grave by giving you what you want.”

“You have my thanks. I do know it is a dangerous project, thus my trying to minimize the risk. I've already had a blunder with the Dragon tongue so I'll be careful this time.”

“Indeed, you might want to learn as much as you can about the speech of dragons if you're planning on crossing the western mountains...”

Anton's eyes squinted briefly, as if a sudden realization just hit him.

“Hmm ? What's this blunder you speak of, by the way ?” He looked like he was rapidly growing suspicious of Azcheron.

Crap. Quick, think of something.

“EH ? Well ! You know how mother tried to learn the language ? I tried as well, but I failed, it surely is a difficult language, hahaha !”

“...You wouldn't happen to know about that strange incident that occurred a little more than a month ago, by any chance ?” Anton had an expression that said he didn't really need to ask, and already decided on the answer on his own.

“Whatever do you mean ?” Azcheron asked as innocently as he could, but realized it was so incongruous coming from him that he just had doomed himself. Anton rose and burst out in anger.

“YOU ! IT WAS YOU !!! I KNEW IT ! Those damn things from hell ! What the heck were you thinking, trying out forgotten summoning magic IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ACADEMY ! One of these nightmares BROKE my window and came FLYING in my office ! I almost died of shock ! I had bad dreams for two weeks ! CURSE YOU !”

Azcheron remained silent. There was no denying it now. He had not been worried about the consequences of the summoning seeing as he had confirmed that the creatures obeyed him, as long as he could manage a proper order. But he failed to consider the mental scars the incident could leave on the minds of the young and elderly.

So that's why he kept waking up and yelping and making noises at night ?

Those evil-looking bat-things certainly were nightmare fuel, he had to admit.

Anton finally calmed down and carried on in an irritated voice. “I knew it. I knew it. Who else would dabble in obscure draconic summonings ? You'd have to possess both an amazing mind to decipher this damn language, and a fairly twisted soul to experiment with it in the middle of the capital. That could be only you. I knew it.”

“I'm truly regretful of my actions.” Azcheron tried to appear as regretful and repenting as he could. Judging by Anton's scornful glare, it wasn't working as intended.

“How the hell did you manage to learn that crappy language in such a short time anyway ? Were you planning to go west from the beginning ?”

“Ah, don't misunderstand. I can barely read and speak it even with a lexicon at hand. I've been meaning to try it since mother told me it had analogies with the Rahal speech.”

Upon hearing this, Anton's expression harboured a faint change. Azcheron could guess what were the questions that popped up in the old man's mind. Surely, his mother had also shared her findings with him when she accompanied him to the capital...

There would be no need to elaborate on this subject yet, since Anton seemingly casted aside whatever thought he had concerning Azcheron's mention of his mother, to carry on about the more immediate matter.

“Well, I sincerely hope you won't have to use it. If you're lucky enough, you won't encounter any dragon while crossing the mountain range.”

Would that be lucky for me ? I don't know. I wouldn't be lying if I said the point actually was to encounter dragons. They may have answers after all, seeing how old they are.

“Surely you are right. Well then, I'll take my leave and see that linguist you spoke of, before he goes off somewhere for his lunch break.”

“Come back when you have time later in the day, I need fill you in about this week's reception.”

Azcheron nodded and exited the office, then set toward the easternmost tower of the Academy.

* * *

Irony, such an interesting thing. It turned out that the linguist was the old moustached professor that Azcheron and Erin had assaulted when they were searching for Anton's address. Assaulted, yes, that was how the old man had apparently perceived the event. He had felt very much offended when they delayed his departure from the Academy, as he was at the time impatient to have his dinner.

Needless to say, the situation here was largely similar. How unfortunate it must have been for the old professor to be halted in his decision to eat lunch, by the same person who previously hindered him. There were shouts and insults in place of greetings.

Had Azcheron nothing to lose, he would have laughed openly. But he had to play it smoothly with the angered scholar if he intended to ask for his help.

Oddly enough, the man's behaviour changed to a more pleasant and indulging one as soon as he heard that Azcheron meant to journey through the dragon-inhabited mountains and the Desolate Lands. He became suddenly eager to give the blonde youth all the tools he needed to start his dangerous expedition as soon as possible.

It couldn't be that the respectable professor wished for the Saint to quickly depart for a location where he had high chances to meet his demise, could it ?

As ill-intentioned the man might have been, he still did a proper job in aiding Azcheron and answering his questions. The guy was, after all, an expert in his field of research, and it seemed that he'd rather show off his knowledge with precision and exactitude, instead of giving false info like a petty man.

The Saint wanted to know anything that may prove useful in meeting – and surviving the act of meeting – with dragons. That involved a lot of talking, more than anything else. No one could really hope to win a battle with a dragon, with the exception of Roharl.

Just in case, Azcheron had also asked the Dragon Slayer for some advice, were he to actually fight one of these creatures. He had expected the hero to keep silent about his methods, or to act like a fool and say something like 'cast spells until they die!', but surprisingly he gave him interesting insight. It wasn't much, but it could perhaps save his and Erin's life, at least. Of course, he had not yet told Erin about his plans, nor about the fact that she was included in said plans.

But the priority wasn't to learn how to kill a dragon, it was to know how to negotiate and converse with them. Because Azcheron had many, many things he would dearly like to discuss with the mythical beings that lived for millenniums.

The moustached professor – Azcheron still didn't know his name, but at this point he didn't care – proved to be extremely knowledgable about dragons and their culture. The Saint came for pointers on polite and respectful speech in Dragon tongue, and left with a list of important facts regarding draconic etiquette, lifestyle and whatnot.

Truly a wise decision on my part. Well, learning things from an old grumpy man who supposedly hate me might not be that wise ? That guy better not have purposely fed me erroneous knowledge that would get me instantaneously killed !

As he exited the east tower and pondered on the things he had learned, he set off to find Erin. Convincing her would be the hard part. It was not far from being a suicide mission, after all. Whether the journey across the mountains passed with or without incident, Azcheron had resolved to check out the Desolate Lands.

He came to this decision recently. While reading documents in both Common and Dragon tongue, and asking Anton for information, he realized very little was known about the Desolate Lands. In other words, it meant that the smallest discovery could be extremely valuable. The few people who were brave enough to visit this barren desert did so because it could quickly bring them fame and glory. Most didn't come back, though. Everybody knew that the golems wandering the land were not particularly friendly to foreigners, and that the land itself was clearly not hospitable.

So, obviously, Azcheron intended to go there and come back with something interesting, whatever that meant. He needed the fame that would come with it. Fame was essential. The plan was as simple as that in his mind. The preparations, on the other hand, were troublesome. Lots of convincing, lots of information-gathering.

The first person he had to coerce into his expedition was, indeed, Erin, so he went to look for her while eating some dried meat. Wandering in the Academy, he figured she might be around the training grounds since it was time for the spellblade lesson.

If one just arrived at the Academy and wondered where Karlos' class was taking place, he would merely have to follow back the trail of injured students crawling toward the infirmary. As he would get closer, the attentive listener could hear to sounds of bones being broken by a wooden sword. Truly, the Academy's infirmary staff had to be comprised of talented healing arts users. Hopefully for them, they were given a bonus for their hard work on each day Karlos had lessons. Which would be... everyday. Night, sometimes.

Azcheron crossed the garden, walked into a covered passageway, and arrived at the large and muddy open area that were the training grounds. He stopped to look around, his eyes passing on the unconscious bodies laying in some places, and the small crowd of student waiting restlessly for their turn to join their slumbering comrades. He noticed Darius among the group of still conscious people, nervously trying to practise casting some enchantment on his weapon before facing the dreaded master Karlos in a 'pedagogic spar'.

According to Erin, the students had finally started to use spellblading and enchantment during actual fighting. Their swordsmanship wasn't really noticeable yet, but they tried, at least. Azcheron spotted Erin sitting on the amphitheatre's steps, watching the lesson from afar. He walked toward her and waved. She saw him approaching and flashed a smile.

“Having fun watching people getting smashed by the bald sadist ?” he inquired, pointing behind him with his thumb.

“Hey, it's highly educational. You'll be glad to know that Karlos seems very informed about which and how many bones can be broken without hindering sword practise. He has elevated punishment to an art form.”

“Very glad to know that, I am indeed.” They both grimaced as they saw one of Darius' friends, the one with the fuzz, getting heavily smacked on the elbow. It made a disgusting noise that could be heard all the way from here, but surprisingly the victim didn't scream.

“So, how did it go with Anton ?” she finally asked.

“I got what I wanted. Remember the old teacher we talked to back when we arrived at the capital ? He taught me a few interesting things about dragons.” He paused and looked at the training grounds again. “We're busted, by the way. Anton knows about the summoning.”

Erin frowned. “What did he say ?”

“He was angry. He doesn't know about you being there at the time, I think. Yet. Should I tell him ?” he joked.

“Don't ! He still believes I'm a respectable person for now.”

They both chuckled then kept silent for a while, watching as Darius' turn came up. After he got tossed away like a rag doll, Erin continued in a more serious tone.

“You said 'dragons', not 'Dragon tongue'. Are you planning what I'm thinking ?”

“That's why I'm here.” He was talking about him being in the Academy, but wasn't sure if she understood. “I won't beat around the bush. I'm going to the Desolate Lands when winter ends.”

Erin was obviously shocked but promptly composed herself. “And I'm assuming you'll go through the mountains ? Planning to meet and fight dragons ? I don't need to tell you how dangerous it is. And I'm sure you already know about what lays further west.”

“I'm preparing thoroughly. I'm not messing around. I know it does not sound credible when I say it, but that's the truth. This is important for me.”

“Because it's a quick way to get famous ? It's also an unnecessarily convoluted method if you want to commit suicide,” she said disapprovingly.

I know that won't be enough to convince you, but well, here goes nothing.

“Yes. And I'd like to ask you to accompany me. You're my bodyguard after all !” He tried to lighten up the mood a bit, but they both were serious underneath.

Erin casted her eyes toward the training grounds, thinking while blankly watching the students. The lesson was almost over, since soon there would be no one left standing.

After a minute or two, she looked straight in Azcheron's eyes.

“I know you just wouldn't ask me to come with you and throw away my life in a deserted crap-hole for no reason. That's what I want to believe, at least.”

She kept staring at him, waiting for him to speak.

Azcheron had no choice. He didn't want to betray Erin's trust by giving some random lie this time. Because this was not one of his usual plots, where he'd fool around. It was his cause, in a way. And she was asking him to tell her about this cause, she was asking for a reason that would be worth such a risky adventure. She wanted to know what she would be endangering her life for. She was trusting him, and he didn't want to disappoint her.

And he wasn't confident he could actually manage without her. In a place without mana in the atmosphere to draw in, he'd be relying on his own mana pool, and her skills would prove more vital than ever.

No, if he had to be honest, it was something else. Maybe he didn't want to go there alone. Maybe he wanted her to come, not because she could protect him, but because she was his friend.

Maybe he didn't want to leave the Academy without her, separating without knowing if he'd survive and if they'd see each other again.

I'll have to tell her one day anyway if we're planning to stay together. I might as well not wait until the very last moment, and explain her my goals right now. I know I can probably trust her with that, and it'll be relieving to have someone I can confide in...

He took a deep breath, and told Erin his intentions.

“I... will try to explain it, in a simple manner. Why I came to the Academy. Why I'm learning the Dragon tongue. Why I want to make myself known. Why I want to meet dragons. Not to fight them, but to ask them something.”

Erin nodded, and Azcheron kept on talking, taking pauses to put his thoughts in order when it was necessary. It was an heavy and important matter to him, and he had not spoken about it to anyone except his mother, and that was some time ago. So he tried to make it clear and concise for Erin.

“I want to know about my clan, about the Rahal clan's origins. I want to finish what my mother started before she passed away.

It began when she first went to the continent, and specifically the Academy. She noticed things. Just things, unrelated details, or she believed so at first. How our clan's customs seemed archaic, yet were undeniably similar to the Empire's. How our clothes looked like the ones drawn and described in history books, how our speech and manners felt sometimes old and out of place. How our magical potential was greater than the majority of people. How parts of our dialect were similar to the Dragon tongue, which hadn't been spoken by most humans for centuries.

Then she died, but before that I had to become the Saint, so I couldn't leave the island like her. She was only able to do so because I was given her position when I was seven, anyway.

Things happened recently, we decided to change our ways, and I left the island with Anton.

So I finally had the opportunity to see the world for myself. And to see what my mother told me about. I came here, tried to study that language. Tried to look for some hints in books and encyclopedias and diaries.

It's not very successful, I have to admit. It'll take me years to check the whole library. All I've learned for now is that if anyone could provide me with answers, it would be the dragons. They're old, so old that some are regarded as immortal, and they're knowledgable. They're bound to know something.

So I'll go to the mountains, and if I'm lucky enough to encounter one of them, I'll do my best to squeeze everything I can out of him. Then I'll go further west. For all I know, there could be something to learn there, too. But the main idea is to gain fame. Because with fame, I'll have authority and credibility. This... will be important for what could come next.”

He stopped for a while to let Erin think about what he told her. When she signalled for him to continue, he complied.

“What will follow is... something I don't know yet !” he said in a now more jovial manner. “But I want to be ready when I learn the truth, in case it's something big. Whether my clan is the result of a dirty secret buried by the Empire or something mundane like explorers getting lost at sea and founding a village on an isolated island, I want to be able to claim it proudly. Hell, wouldn't it be damn amazing if we turned out to be half-breed descendants of dragons or something ?”

Azcheron had that prideful smile. The Rahal's characteristic smile.

He looked at the training grounds that were presently empty. The pedagogic knocking out had ended. The bodies had been dragged away, probably to the now sure to be cramped infirmary.

Erin, who had been staying silent for some time, spoke in a low, soft voice.

“Alright.”

Azcheron turned back to her. “Hm ?”

“Alright, I'll come with you.”

He smiled to himself.

Thank you. Thank you. Erin, thank you. You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that.

“Of course you will. I'm sure you also want to know the truth, now that I confessed to you the greatest synopsis of all times. A quest for truth ! Against the empires, through the ages, and beyond the skies ! This'll prove to be a damn good story.” He said confidently.

She grinned, and he knew that he was right. He was right to trust her. He was right to choose her.

She was the right heroine for his story, after all.