Dwarf City, Dragon Heart Series Book 14

2

“The sixty-fifth square,” the dragon explained. “The one that can’t be reached.”

“It looks more like a prison,” Hadjar said, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

Chin’Ameh glanced at the forces gathering at the foot of the hill. “The younger a creature, the more often they get captivity and freedom mixed up.”

“Is it even possible to get polar opposites mixed up?”

“If you switch concepts,” Chin’Ameh nodded. “What most people take for freedom is really just a shackle that feels good to be in, and only by breaking these shackles can you become truly free.”

Hadjar sighed a little wearily.

“The sixty-fifth square means performing actions that are unexpected. The ones the game itself doesn’t allow for normally. Think about that when you’re fighting for the Princess’ life.”

Hadjar looked at the beautiful girl wearing flowing silks who was coming up in a cart that floated through the clouds, drawn by pink, six-winged birds.

“Do you think, wise Chin’Ameh, that the delegation will encounter many dangers?”

“Why do you think the Emperor is sending such an impressive army with his daughter?”

The army really was astonishingly powerful.

Chapter 1219

W

hen a bugle sounded, Hadjar left the Magic Dawn Pavilion, turning into a white lightning bolt to do so. Piercing the clouds of magical smoke formed from the incense and leaving behind a silhouette that looked like a dragon spreading its wings, he appeared at the head of the procession.

The long column of people, or rather, dragons, which stretched out for several miles, brought back memories of Rahaim’s caravan and the Sea of Sand. Admittedly, the dragon procession was far more magnificent and somewhat pompous compared to the caravan.

The rearguard, which consisted of a dozen riders, trailed after the procession. The warriors were wearing turquoise robes of incredible quality that probably cost a fortune, along with amulets around their necks, Imperial level armor, and weapons of medium quality. Most of them were armed with spears.

The ones not armed with spears held a variety of armaments, from simple infantry weapons, all the way to a kind of broadsword attached to a pole. Such weapons were so heavy that it was hard to guess how the dragons’ mounts could handle their weight with such apparent ease. The Princess’ entire entourage of guards, including the rearguard, the main forces, and the vanguard, were mounted, riding huge three-tailed tigers with strange, greenish fur and crimson stripes. The monsters varied in power, ranging from the initial level of the Primeval Stage to the mid-level Spirit Stage.

Hadjar hadn’t really understood why the dragons didn’t travel in their true forms, as they could reach a speed that not even the engineers who’d made ‘The Fury of the Mortal Skies’ could dream of imitating. Chin’Ameh had explained that once a dragon advanced to a certain Stage of cultivation, it was easier for them to stay in human form. Their dragon form was then used only in extreme cases, like during a fight, special training, or meditation.

Walking ahead of the rearguard were numerous servants. Tailors, cooks, artisans, potters, builders, and other representatives of the lower class made up their ranks. In total, there were about three hundred of them. Among them were Lords and peak-stage Spirit Knights, which demonstrated a high level of cultivation in the Dragon Lands, but the average level or Stage wasn’t as monstrous as it might’ve seemed back at the Ruby Palace. The servants, unlike the warriors, didn’t ride tigers, but traveled in some kind of lavish, spacious stagecoach pulled by magic clouds.

Then came the 2226 dragon warriors. There were also twenty mages mixed in with them, and all of them were either former or current disciples of Chin’Ameh and his Pavilion. They were easy to tell apart from the regular warriors as they carried no martial weapons. Their leader was holding a staff covered in runes and symbols that must’ve been very expensive in his clawed hands.

He looked at those around him as if they were little more than dust that might sully his fancy, pointed shoes. Every mage rode on their own personal cloud, which covered their legs up to the knees.

Next up was the Princess’ own carriage. Hadjar had rubbed his eyes in disbelief at the sight of a stone building resting on the clouds. It was made of magical marble. Adorned with three picturesque stained-glass windows, as tall as a two-story house, and as wide as the deck of a galleon, it was like a miniature version of the Palace. The Princess and her two personal maids travelled inside of it.

The carriage was guarded by the Head of this parade of magic and luxury — Officer Sin’Magan, the older brother of the mad swordswoman Tash’Magan. The one who’d tried to take the place of the Hero in the Delegation of the Ruby and the Dragon. And now she most likely hated Hadjar, who, because he’d been unable to defeat Tash in a fair fight, had resorted to a very dishonest trick in order to beat her.

Unlike his subordinates, Sin rode a five-tailed tiger. It was larger, scarred, more muscular, and had a sharp, calculating glare. It was a mid-level Spirit beast, equal in power to a peak-stage Nameless. Sin exuded the distinct aura of an initial-stage Heaven Emperor. Definitely a dragon to watch out for.

“Hero Hadjar of the North Wind Tribe,” Officer Sin’Magan greeted him with a nod. He stowed the old bugle back in his saddlebags. “Come. Let Sashkem sniff you.”

Sashkem was obviously the name of the dragon’s tiger. While it might’ve sounded a little wild — dragons riding on tigers — in the Nameless World, there were far more amazing things than that.

Hadjar reluctantly stepped forward. The tiger’s snout, which was the size of a boulder, not to mention the fact his fangs were as big as sabers, moved toward him and the beast sniffed him. Hadjar kept his hands away from the handle of his Scarlet Blade. His stance showed a casual lack of concern even though he was ready to fight to the death if anything did happen. The tiger might potentially smell the human part of him. After a few moments, Sashkem straightened his neck, turned to his rider, and gave a short growl.