A dragon.
This creature hadn't appeared in the mortal world for a very long time. In fact, for the vast majority of intelligent races on Lorath, dragons were beings that existed somewhere between myth and reality. Everyone knew for certain that these formidable creatures existed, but virtually no one could expect to see a real dragon in their lifetime.
The southern elves were an exception, those mystical, extraordinarily long-lived beings had every right to call themselves witnesses to history. Over the course of the Elves' vast chronicles, there were one or two recorded encounters with dragons.
That creature with its deep blue scales and enormous wings, elegant and powerful, glided across the sky, raining down lethal breath as it went. The jets of flame, already searing white-hot, contained ancient draconic magic, making them far more than simple fire. Wherever the pillars of flame swept, the earth erupted into roaring infernos that burned without fuel, spreading ceaselessly. After just a few passes, the entirety of Seawright territory was engulfed in a sea of fire.
After finishing its work, the dragon circled overhead for a short while, as if inspecting the results, before finally beating its wings and climbing into the sky, disappearing into the gradually brightening clouds.
Wayne heard several deep gasps from those around him. Everyone, Hestia included, only now dared to take a full, open breath, if that dragon had lingered any longer, there was no telling who among them would have passed out from holding their breath.
"A dragon... a dragon..." Rebecca clutched her staff, murmuring ceaselessly. "Great Ancestor, I saw a dragon..."
Wayne cleared his throat. "Ahem, you don't need to tell me. I saw it too."
Rebecca snapped out of her daze with a start, gave Wayne a slightly embarrassed glance, then looked toward Seawright territory with a complicated expression.
Ravaged once by the magic Tide, then scorched by dragonfire, this place was well and truly beyond saving.
As for those monsters... while they had been quite dangerous for Seawright territory's lackluster garrison, they were ultimately nothing more than the lowest tier of Others. Under the dragonfire, nearly all of them had been incinerated to ash. Even if a few survived, their self-disintegration was only a matter of time now that the surrounding environment had so drastically changed.
"I thought dragons only existed in legends," even the taciturn Ser Byron couldn't help speaking up. The three soldiers beside him were still shaking too badly to stand, but the normally strict knight didn't reprimand them, only furrowed his brow. "My lord, have you ever dealt with dragons?"
"No," Wayne shook his head. "Dragons are extremely mysterious creatures. Even seven hundred years ago, when half of Lorath was being turned upside down, they never involved themselves in mortal affairs."
Though he said this, Wayne wasn't actually all that shocked by the great beast, he'd seen dragons through a different channel. During those days hanging in the sky, he'd spotted these creatures appearing on the continent more than once. But dragons were indeed elusive; even after dangling up there for who-knew-how-many tens of thousands of years, the dragons he'd witnessed were quite few, and given how fragmented and jumbled those images were, he couldn't piece together much about their characteristics or habits.
Just then, the shadow beside Wayne flickered twice. He turned to look and, sure enough, there was Amber standing behind him, the half-elf still looking rather shaken.
"I saw a dragon!" Amber hollered excitedly. "My mother would never believe it, I saw a dragon! It was thiiiiiis big!"
"All right, all right, everyone here saw it," Wayne shot a glare at this cowardly yet noisy thief. "Where did you disappear to just now?"
"Squeezed into a crack in the rocks nearby," Amber said, puffing out her chest. "My escape skills are top-notch!"
Wayne pressed a hand to his forehead and sighed. "Shadow affinity at master level, at least. Direct combat ability only marginally better than a goose's. And you're proud of this."
Then he shook his head. "We shouldn't linger here. Let's move quickly."
He started down the slope. The dragon was gone, but who knew what other bizarre things might pop up, so leaving promptly was the smart move. Hestia, however, cast one last look at the family's territory, her expression pained.
"Great Ancestor... that dragon burned our lands."
"It burned our ruins. Strictly speaking, it burned those monsters," Wayne glanced at Hestia. He'd been watching carefully when the dragon unleashed its breath, it had aimed predominantly at the areas with the highest monster density. Though several blasts had gone off-target for some reason, the overall intent was quite clear.
"Seawright territory was already gone before that dragon arrived."
"But..."
"You want to go lodge a complaint with a dragon?" Wayne shrugged. "Let's be practical. If there's anything to be done, it's getting back to civilization as fast as possible and reporting everything about the monsters and the dragon."
Hestia couldn't argue. She could only nod. "Yes."
Wayne understood Hestia's feelings quite well. Seawright territory was her homeland, where she was born and raised. Even though it had already been destroyed, the emotional barrier wasn't so easy to cross. Even knowing the dragon had merely set fire to ruins and had most likely been targeting those monsters, she was bound to feel conflicted.
After all, it was essentially desecrating the corpse right in front of her face.
But understanding was one thing; fully sharing the feeling was another, after all, up until the moment he'd crawled out of that coffin, he hadn't even been this House Seawright's ancestor...
With all manner of tangled emotions, the group left the area. What lay ahead was a dense forest.
Hestia held her staff in one hand while tracing several flickering sigils in the air with the other, then looked toward the forest. "We need to pass through these woods to get back to the main road. It's the only route to Gulltown."
Wayne watched the glowing sigils shimmering in Hestia's hand with curiosity and envy (though he tried to hide it).
"Magic really is convenient..."
"Great Ancestor?" Hestia looked confused, then her expression turned anxious. "Have my skills displeased you?"
Wayne blinked. "Huh? Why would I be displeased?"
"House Seawright has always stood on the strength of its knights. Martial prowess and horsemanship are the family's orthodox path. People like me and Rebecca, who took the path of the mage... if it were a hundred-odd years ago, forget inheritance rights, we might not even have been able to hold a place in the family," Hestia explained nervously. "It's just... after what happened a hundred years ago, the family's status plummeted and the bloodline thinned. Children who could master any supernatural power at all became scarce, so paths other than knighthood finally gained acceptance... But regardless, it still goes against the family's rules."
Wayne said casually, "Seriously? Which idiot came up with rule?"
He'd always harbored deep contempt for this kind of typical hidebound clan doctrine.
But the moment those words left his mouth, the atmosphere turned distinctly awkward.
Ser Byron immediately looked down and pretended to tie his shoes, despite wearing a pair of iron boots.
Hestia froze on the spot.
And two seconds later, Rebecca timidly raised a finger and pointed at Wayne himself.
Wayne: "..."
He searched his memories. Back in the day... there did seem to have been something like that.
The young, hot-blooded hero Gwayne Seawright, after a triumphant campaign, had sat down with Andraste's founding king, Charles Martell, for a victory celebration with plenty of drink.
The two best friends, deep in their cups, started boasting, discussing how their great enterprise was nearing completion, how all those people who'd miserably fled north leading their houses were now each becoming founding heroes and cornerstone figures.
It was foreseeable that in the near future, a whole wave of first-generation nobles would emerge, and as long as they could survive and breed, these utterly pedigree-less first-generation nobles would spawn one ancient, well-rooted family after another...
So the two inebriated founding rulers put their heads together and decided they should probably get ahead of things, lay down some rules and family precepts to prevent future generations from forgetting the spirit of their ancestors. And as the pioneer among pioneers, the founder among founders, Gwayne Seawright and High King Charles Martell naturally had to lead by example.
Thus, seven hundred years ago, Gwayne Seawright had drained most of a cup of high-proof liquor, glanced at the knight's sword at his hip, and dashed off a line of calligraphy on the table.
Knights are way more badass than mages.
Charles Martell saw this and was deeply gratified, so he too put brush to paper.
Ser Gwayne is abso-fuckin-lutely right!
The former became House Seawright's ancestral precept.
The latter... the latter was talked back into oblivion by Charles Martell's attendants and remonstrating officials.
The far-sighted ministers and the sobered-up king naturally weren't going to enshrine drunken bluster into national policy. But Gwayne Seawright had quite earnestly incorporated his heartfelt sentiments of that moment into the family code.
Emerging from the memory bank, Wayne looked at Hestia and Rebecca with a face full of embarrassment.
He sighed.
"Uh... I was drunk when I wrote that. So... just pretend that rule doesn't exist..."
Hestia & Rebecca: "...???"
And at that exact moment, a loud gurgling sound from Amber's stomach mercifully rescued Wayne from the situation.
"I know it's a bit awkward to bring this up while you grandparents and grandchildren are enjoying your family reunion," the half-elf girl said, rubbing her belly sheepishly, "but I'm a little hungry."
Amber's stomach seemed to act as a starting signal. The moment she finished speaking, several more sounds of rumbling intestines followed from every person present.
Wayne was no exception.
Only now did Wayne realize that since leaving that dark crypt, no one in the group had eaten for a very long time.
And the length of time since his last meal exceeded everyone else's by a spectacular margin, the last time he'd enjoyed the satisfaction of chewing food, the apes on Lorath had still been very, very far from walking upright.