《Goblin's Glory》Chapter 37 Dragon’s Den
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This is doing my head in. Estra's emotions are all over the place. They're a mixture of jealousy and denial. I don't think she even understands what she's feeling.
I can't handle much more of this, it's going to make me do something crazy. Like, tossing myself into a volcano.
Estra's turbulent emotions were bombarding Dink through the bond. He slumped tiredly in the back of the cart bed, the wife-pair fussing over him in concern. After almost a full day's travel, he lacked the strength to even acknowledge their presence. Earlier on, Estra had become aware of the effect she was having and began a full-blown psychological assault.
Murkuk didn't appear to be coping any better than Dink. He was huddled on the other side of the cart with his hands clamped over his ears in an attempt to block them out. Estra was focused entirely on the road ahead, devoting all of her energy inward.
"Enough of this, Estra. You win," Dink said, finally giving in.
Estra broke out of her trance, giving the Goblins a brief reprieve from her onslaught. She glanced over at them, choosing to continue her silent treatment. Dink worried she might double down on her mental attack. Instead, she reclined into her seat, crossing her arms. The turbulent emotions settled into a sense of self-satisfaction as she resumed watching the road. Dink pushed himself upright in his seat.
"Phew, I'm glad that's over with," Dink said in relief.
Murkuk removed the hands cradling his head to glare at the back of Estra's head in response. He bared his teeth in anger with a low growl. She merely glanced in his direction and he instantly deflated, his ears and shoulders drooping in submission. She snorted in amusement at his reaction. The cart crested a hill allowing the view of a small bustling township in the distance.
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“We’re almost at Burrowton, it’s up ahead,” Axion called over his shoulder.
“Look over there! We can see now see the Laughing Peaks. They’re the mountain range separating Hatral from the kingdom of Ruskor,” Tahlea said, pointing in excitement.
“That’s Mount Grace in the kingdom of Todrana. It’s the northern end of the mountain range. I wonder if the Sisterhood of Mercy still exists,” Dink corrected.
“The Sisterhood of Mercy?” Tahlea asked, her eyes opening wide in curiosity.
“The Sisterhood of Mercy is a secluded order located at the base of Mount Grace, dedicated to healing the sick. They worship a perverted God that requires them to devote their bodies entirely to them. That’s not even the best part, they have to take an oath of celibacy. If one of the Sisters breaks it, they’ll lose access to their divine powers. Not just one of them, all of them,” Dink informed her.
“All of them will lose their power, how do they prevent one of them from breaking their oath?” Tahlea asked in shock.
“That’s why I wonder if they still exist. They were a relatively large order, the last I visited. I think they must have loopholes to satiate those kinds of desires. I wonder what they are,” Dink replied, lost in a carnal daydream.
His ears twitched, and he could hear a faint mewling coming from under the driver’s seat. He extracted himself from between the wife-pair to investigate. Moving aside Estra’s pack, he discovered the iron cage containing the Myconid. The small mushroom creature had finally awoken, calling out in distress.
He retrieved the cage and lifted it to the sunlight. The Myconid pressed itself against the metal with a pitiful expression. Dink thoughtfully frowned, putting down the cage.
As they rolled into Burrowton, Dink suddenly blinked. The caustic scent of rock dust buffeted them, lingering in the air along with the faint odour of sulphur. When he inhaled, he could taste the chalky texture of it. Pedestrians paused in the street, pointing at the occupants of the cart. Murkuk also had his nose tilted to the sky, curiously sniffing. He had a bewildered expression like he was smelling something he should recognise.
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“What’s Burrowton known for?” Dink curiously asked.
“There’s an expansive underground mining operation nearby, mostly coal. Why do you ask?” Riva helpfully answered.
“Heh, no reason. If they continue to carry on like this, probably not for long. Or, maybe not,” Dink replied, he detected something in the scent.
“What do you mean?” Estra broke her silence to ask, turning in the driver’s seat to face him.
“Can you smell rotten eggs? It’s not quite sulphur. The miners are about to disrupt a dragon nest if they haven’t already. They might be keeping it hushed. There’s a fortune in dragon eggs on the black market. Especially now that dragons are so rare on the continent,” Dink casually responded.
“What? We have to stop them!” Estra exclaimed.
“Why? It smells like there’s more than one egg. If it was a true dragon, there would only ever be one. True dragons breed through magic so even twins share only one shell. You would be able to feel that after the nest was disturbed. They should be able to handle whatever it is. Even if it was a true dragon egg, they take centuries to mature,” Dink replied, waving away further questions. “Lastly, a true dragon wouldn’t have its lair this close to civilisation. They were exiled into the far reaches of the wilderness after the Draconic Dividing. They rarely cause any trouble for risk of angering a Legend realm Attuned or Magus.”
“But there aren’t any Legends left. The last to exist was the Sword Saint and he betrayed everyone. Now, there are only people in the Grand realm. That’s why the Expanding Woods are so dangerous,” Tahlea said in confusion.
Dink noticed upon hearing his previous title, Axion and Riva’s posture changed. They both simultaneously spat over the side into the dirt of the road. Their actions were ritualistically mirrored by nosey pedestrians that overheard part of their conversation. They didn’t even seem aware of their actions.
Wait, that’s strange. This isn’t the first time I noticed this. People don’t even realise that they’re spitting upon hearing my title. Something’s not right.
He angrily leapt upright on the cart flatbed, his actions attracting the attention of nearby passersby. He ignored the gasps of recognition as his hands balled into fists.
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