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“My old friend, you’re right as always,” Sin said with a slightly wry smile, not because he had a bad temper or anything, but because half his face was hidden behind a steel mask, and deep scars peeked out from beneath it. By the High Heavens, Hadjar easily recognized whose blade had inflicted them. Raven’s Wing... What a busy life you lead…
“Well, I’m glad to welcome the Hero into our ranks,” Sin held out his hand. Given that he was several feet up, Hadjar had to use his energy and will to rise up into the air and shake the offered forearm. “You’ll be under my command for the next two years. You have one task — protect the Princess. Do so in a manner that doesn’t prevent me from taking care of my fellow citizens, and we won’t have any problems. Maybe this’ll even be the start of a great friendship.”
“I serve the High Heavens,” Hadjar replied with a phrase he’d been taught.
“May they extend over your wings,” Sin said in turn. “Now, go and get the wreath. We’ll be leaving soon. Two years isn’t a lot of time considering the distance we have to cover.”
Two years of traveling at speeds that no mortal or practitioner would ever be able to comprehend. The Nameless World was large and, as Hadjar had learned long ago, it wasn’t a normal planet at all. It was something different.
However, at the moment, he was more concerned with the gaze of the mage holding the staff. It was less than friendly. f*****g schemes…
Chapter 1220
W
hat was a single month to beings that lived for thousands of years? Probably what an hour was to mortals. And a year? Probably the equivalent of a day or so. In light of that, it wasn’t surprising that the delegation felt more like a casual stroll, rather than an important and dangerous event.
The guards were from the Magan family. As Hadjar had learned over the past month, the Magans were famous for their skills with weapons. As it turned out, the ability to walk the path of Weapons or Magic was considered a great gift for dragons. Even though the guards ranged from peak-stage Lords to advanced-stage Nameless, only a few of them possessed a True Kingdom. The mages were from the Min family. The same family as the Mentor whom Hadjar had almost sent to his forefathers.
Once upon a time, the Ameh family had been the one that held undisputed power in the Magic Dawn Pavilion. But over the course of the war for the throne and the rise of the current Emperor, many of them had died. Others still had gone to the Strange Lands — mages were always drawn to knowledge and secrets. So, the only ones left had been Chin’Ameh and his daughter — the heir to the title of Pavilion Head, which she hadn’t been able to inherit. She’d been born incapable of following neither the path of Weapons nor harnessing the Words. This sometimes happened with dragons, as cultivation was hundreds of times more difficult for them than it was for humans. In their true forms, they often couldn’t reach higher Stages simply because they didn’t have enough food to do so. Animals not only needed to fight for territory, but also the ability to hunt and grow.
After his daughter had left with Traves and subsequently died at the hands of the Emperor’s men, Chin’Ameh had been left completely alone. His last living relative, Minister Ju, had died at his own hands.
How had Hadjar learned all of this? Well, there was absolutely nothing to do during their travel, which had its advantages — chatting with the servants was quite easy and didn’t arouse any suspicion, for example.
At the moment, Hadjar was sitting at a table with some of the servants. They were on the platform that was floating on clouds a dozen feet above the ground, and traveling at a speed that made the forest look like a blurry, shapeless gray-green mass as it whipped past them.
“I never thought I’d pass the exam to become a cook,” a plump young man sighed. He had no horns, or vertical pupils. His appearance definitely meant he would be mistaken for a human. He was a dragon from the Curved Horn tribe.
“I don’t believe you, Pan,” a tall man wearing glasses replied. Actual glasses. Hadjar had choked in shock when he’d first seen them. “Your cooking skills are known even in the Ruby Palace. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were given mid-mountain lands when we get back.”
Pan, the fat and kind young cook closed his eyes dreamily:
“I really hope that comes true.”
The other guy, whose name was Shins, was also a commoner. He’d been able to pass the official accounting exam. That was why, at the moment, the commoner Shins was one of the most prominent faces of the delegation. He alone knew all the details regarding their provisions, ammunition, and other vital numbers inherent to such a large-scale enterprise. Unsurprisingly, he was often visited by the Head of the guard and the leader of the delegation, Sin’Magan. Considering that there were a decent number of young and beautiful women amongst the servants, this created a nice atmosphere.
Even now, in the common area that was technically the servants’ cantina, there were several charming dragonesses seated across from Pan, Shins, and Hadjar. They were smiling and kept trying to catch the eye of the trio.
“I’d move my mother and brothers there,” Pan continued dreamily. “And build a house, grow a garden, maybe even open a restaurant.”
“Do you really want to continue cooking even after you get a trade permit?” Shins asked him, adjusting his glasses. “That’s a little strange, my friend.”
“Why? I like cooking. You know, mixing the ingredients, producing something new and unique…”
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