Garon looked at the Duke of Thorns with an almost mocking smile and then gently opened his dragon mouth, revealing sharp, knife-like snow-white dragon teeth.
His action caused the surrounding guards' faces to drastically change color. Some moved to protect the Duke of Thorns from any forthcoming attack, while others raised their weapons towards Garon, ready to strike.
At the same time, the Duke of Thorns' expression became stern, and a heavy rebuke issued from his lean figure: "Stop!"
With the Duke's high authority, the nearby guards ceased their actions at his command but remained tensely focused on Garon.
The presence of the Duke of Thorns and his fearless demeanor against the dragon's imposing presence had greatly boosted the guards' morale.
The overwhelming sense of oppression from Garon's enormous size seemed lessened as if they had found a backbone to rely on, albeit one who was a mere mortal.
This trust was the result of long-standing respect.
There was no dangerous dragon breath glowing in Garon's mouth, which relieved the spellcasters who were preparing protective spells.
They truly could not imagine how they would defend against the breath of a massive true dragon at such close range.
If Garon were to strike, everyone present would undoubtedly perish.
Currently, the Mosha Duchy lacked even a seventh-level high wizard. The strongest among them was the first spellcaster who had spoken to Garon, a sixth circle mage who had exhausted his potential and had no hope of reaching a higher rank.
How could they possibly intimidate a massive true dragon?
Meanwhile, under the tense gaze of many, a faint red glimmer flashed inside Garon's mouth, transforming into a meter-long fiery red staff that he deftly picked up with his enormous dragon claw.
The appearance of the fiery red staff immediately captivated the spellcasters' attention.
The staff exuded pulsating elemental energy and was made of extraordinarily fine material; its core seemed to contain a fluid flame within its dark red gemstone. It was like a candle in the night, drawing the eyes of all the spellcasters present, as a high-quality staff was a coveted item for any spellcaster.
Garon lowered his head, looking down at the diminutive figure of the Duke of Thorns, his platinum dragon eyes emotionless as he coldly said, "Perhaps this Red Flame Staff might jog your memory."
The Duke of Thorns studied the staff for a few seconds and then shook his head, "I have never seen it before. It looks to be of excellent quality, a magical weapon that all spellcasters would desire. However, that it has come into the possession of a powerful true dragon is indeed its fortune."
His voice sounded sincere, as if he wasn't feigning ignorance.
Then, Garon's expression darkened slightly, and his tone grew heavier, "I have come from the northern ice fields."
The Duke of Thorns initially paused upon hearing 'northern ice fields,' then his expression subtly changed, and his look towards Garon carried a hint of unease.
According to intelligence reports, Morton's friend was a silver dragon. However, what puzzled the Duke of Thorns was that Morton's friend was supposed to be a female silver dragon who transformed into a woman when interacting with humans.
But the silver dragon before him did not appear to be female.
Noticing the shift in the Duke of Thorns' expression, Garon remained calm and spoke in an offhand yet pressuring tone, "I had a close friend who fled to the northern ice fields but was forced to die along with his enemies on the way, leaving behind only two offspring."
Pausing briefly, Garon leaned forward, lowering his head close to the Duke of Thorns, his breath nearly scorching the Duke's face.
"A force of two thousand elite troops went to the northern ice fields and were buried under the ice and snow."
"Their equipment bore the pattern of a thorn flower."
"You may not recognize the Red Flame Staff, but the thorn flower pattern should be very familiar to you."
Garon scrutinized the Duke of Thorns, watching his expression change.
He had suspected that the Mosha Duchy had acquired the lava demi-plane portal, or else they would not have sent people to chase Morton through such perilous terrain as the northern ice fields.
Upon reaching this city, Garon noticed many thorn patterns and similar equipment styles on some of the guards, confirming his suspicions.
The Duke of Thorns' gaze shifted, and finally, he sighed deeply, looking up at Garon and suppressing a trace of fear in his heart, "Have you come on behalf of Morton?"
After a pause, the Duke of Thorns spoke calmly, "The metallic dragon race always upholds kindness and justice, aiding the weak and combating evil, but they do not interfere in the normal conflicts among humans."
"Morton died in the conflict between nations; I personally hold no grudge against him."
"If the
Silver Dragon intends to exact vengeance on the Mosha Duchy for this, I have no words."
"But I hope you do not vent your anger on the innocent citizens of the Mosha Duchy, who know nothing of this matter."
As the Duke finished speaking, the surrounding guards' expressions darkened, their blades reflecting the cold night air in their tense grips.
The spellcasters began to chant spells softly.
This time, the Duke of Thorns did not stop them.
If Garon had come seeking vengeance, even if they were no match, they would not just await their demise passively.
Garon remained silent, smiling slightly at the guards ready for battle.
"Little one, I am not in the mood for slaughter today, but if someone wishes to challenge the limits of a true dragon, I wouldn't mind turning this place into a river of blood."
The Duke of Thorns showed a hint of confusion, then asked, "If not for revenge for Morton, then what is your purpose here?"
Garon shook the Red Flame Staff, "This staff is also a key. What I need is what the key can open."
Hearing this, the Duke of Thorns frowned, hesitating for a moment.
He harbored the unrealistic hope that if they could open a passage to the lava demi-plane, even if the Mosha Duchy was currently at its weakest, it might one day return to its peak.
"As a close friend of Morton, I cannot allow his relics to fall into the wrong hands."
"Now, I offer you two choices."
"Either hand over Morton's relics willingly, or I will turn this place to ashes and retrieve them from the ruins myself."
The Red Flame Staff glowed slightly, the surrounding temperature rising sharply.
The increasing heat made the Duke of Thorns uncomfortable, forcing him to step back, his face lit by the glow of the flames.
In nearly an instant, several pea-sized red orbs appeared in front of Garon, bobbing in the air like little red sprites, though each radiated an aura of destruction.
The spellcasters felt a sudden surge of pressure, their faces turning pale as they hurriedly constructed defensive spells.
Garon, however, appeared indifferent, paying no mind to their efforts.
Garon looked at the Duke of Thorns with an almost mocking smile and then gently opened his dragon mouth, revealing sharp, knife-like snow-white dragon teeth.
His action caused the surrounding guards' faces to drastically change color. Some moved to protect the Duke of Thorns from any forthcoming attack, while others raised their weapons towards Garon, ready to strike.
At the same time, the Duke of Thorns' expression became stern, and a heavy rebuke issued from his lean figure: "Stop!"
With the Duke's high authority, the nearby guards ceased their actions at his command but remained tensely focused on Garon.
The presence of the Duke of Thorns and his fearless demeanor against the dragon's imposing presence had greatly boosted the guards' morale.
The overwhelming sense of oppression from Garon's enormous size seemed lessened as if they had found a backbone to rely on, albeit one who was a mere mortal.
This trust was the result of long-standing respect.
There was no dangerous dragon breath glowing in Garon's mouth, which relieved the spellcasters who were preparing protective spells.
They truly could not imagine how they would defend against the breath of a massive true dragon at such close range.
If Garon were to strike, everyone present would undoubtedly perish.
Currently, the Mosha Duchy lacked even a seventh-level high wizard. The strongest among them was the first spellcaster who had spoken to Garon, a sixth circle mage who had exhausted his potential and had no hope of reaching a higher rank.
How could they possibly intimidate a massive true dragon?
Meanwhile, under the tense gaze of many, a faint red glimmer flashed inside Garon's mouth, transforming into a meter-long fiery red staff that he deftly picked up with his enormous dragon claw.
The appearance of the fiery red staff immediately captivated the spellcasters' attention.
The staff exuded pulsating elemental energy and was made of extraordinarily fine material; its core seemed to contain a fluid flame within its dark red gemstone. It was like a candle in the night, drawing the eyes of all the spellcasters present, as a high-quality staff was a coveted item for any spellcaster.
Garon lowered his head, looking down at the diminutive figure of the Duke of Thorns, his platinum dragon eyes emotionless as he coldly said, "Perhaps this Red Flame Staff might jog your memory."
The Duke of Thorns studied the staff for a few seconds and then shook his head, "I have never seen it before. It looks to be of excellent quality, a magical weapon that all spellcasters would desire. However, that it has come into the possession of a powerful true dragon is indeed its fortune."
His voice sounded sincere, as if he wasn't feigning ignorance.
Then, Garon's expression darkened slightly, and his tone grew heavier, "I have come from the northern ice fields."
The Duke of Thorns initially paused upon hearing 'northern ice fields,' then his expression subtly changed, and his look towards Garon carried a hint of unease.
According to intelligence reports, Morton's friend was a silver dragon. However, what puzzled the Duke of Thorns was that Morton's friend was supposed to be a female silver dragon who transformed into a woman when interacting with humans.
But the silver dragon before him did not appear to be female.
Noticing the shift in the Duke of Thorns' expression, Garon remained calm and spoke in an offhand yet pressuring tone, "I had a close friend who fled to the northern ice fields but was forced to die along with his enemies on the way, leaving behind only two offspring."
Pausing briefly, Garon leaned forward, lowering his head close to the Duke of Thorns, his breath nearly scorching the Duke's face.
"A force of two thousand elite troops went to the northern ice fields and were buried under the ice and snow."
"Their equipment bore the pattern of a thorn flower."
"You may not recognize the Red Flame Staff, but the thorn flower pattern should be very familiar to you."
Garon scrutinized the Duke of Thorns, watching his expression change.
He had suspected that the Mosha Duchy had acquired the lava demi-plane portal, or else they would not have sent people to chase Morton through such perilous terrain as the northern ice fields.
Upon reaching this city, Garon noticed many thorn patterns and similar equipment styles on some of the guards, confirming his suspicions.
The Duke of Thorns' gaze shifted, and finally, he sighed deeply, looking up at Garon and suppressing a trace of fear in his heart, "Have you come on behalf of Morton?"
After a pause, the Duke of Thorns spoke calmly, "The metallic dragon race always upholds kindness and justice, aiding the weak and combating evil, but they do not interfere in the normal conflicts among humans."
"Morton died in the conflict between nations; I personally hold no grudge against him."
"If the
Silver Dragon intends to exact vengeance on the Mosha Duchy for this, I have no words."
"But I hope you do not vent your anger on the innocent citizens of the Mosha Duchy, who know nothing of this matter."
As the Duke finished speaking, the surrounding guards' expressions darkened, their blades reflecting the cold night air in their tense grips.
The spellcasters began to chant spells softly.
This time, the Duke of Thorns did not stop them.
If Garon had come seeking vengeance, even if they were no match, they would not just await their demise passively.
Garon remained silent, smiling slightly at the guards ready for battle.
"Little one, I am not in the mood for slaughter today, but if someone wishes to challenge the limits of a true dragon, I wouldn't mind turning this place into a river of blood."
The Duke of Thorns showed a hint of confusion, then asked, "If not for revenge for Morton, then what is your purpose here?"
Garon shook the Red Flame Staff, "This staff is also a key. What I need is what the key can open."
Hearing this, the Duke of Thorns frowned, hesitating for a moment.
He harbored the unrealistic hope that if they could open a passage to the lava demi-plane, even if the Mosha Duchy was currently at its weakest, it might one day return to its peak.
"As a close friend of Morton, I cannot allow his relics to fall into the wrong hands."
"Now, I offer you two choices."
"Either hand over Morton's relics willingly, or I will turn this place to ashes and retrieve them from the ruins myself."
The Red Flame Staff glowed slightly, the surrounding temperature rising sharply.
The increasing heat made the Duke of Thorns uncomfortable, forcing him to step back, his face lit by the glow of the flames.
In nearly an instant, several pea-sized red orbs appeared in front of Garon, bobbing in the air like little red sprites, though each radiated an aura of destruction.
The spellcasters felt a sudden surge of pressure, their faces turning pale as they hurriedly constructed defensive spells.
Garon, however, appeared indifferent, paying no mind to their efforts.
