Chapter 19: Flames and Smoke

“Shatima?” Komer was momentarily stunned before saying, “Did she not tell you her origins?”
“No. Every time I ask her, she evades the question, refusing to give a direct answer. She says our meeting was purely coincidental, and there’s nothing special between us—just ordinary friends. But her expression never seems natural, yet it seems like there’s nothing hidden between you two. When pressed, she told me to ask you, saying it’s up to you to decide whether to answer. Komer, tell me, what’s really going on?” Vero’s bright eyes fixed on his changeable expression.
Komer wasn’t sure whether he should reveal the truth to Vero. In the entire Caucasus, only Mihayovich roughly knew Shatima’s origins. Although others were also surprised by her behavior, he had often encountered strange people around him, so it didn’t arouse much suspicion.
Komer didn’t want to hide anything from Vero. He had already confessed everything about his special relationship with the Secret Order, which had led to the pursuit by the Church of Light. In fact, he had few secrets left to keep from her. But Shatima’s origins were simply too shocking. If people learned that an ice dragon had taken human form and was living among humans, it would be utterly unbelievable. Dragons turning into humans wasn’t news, but living among humans, living like a human, and even being an attractive woman—such news would surely cause a huge stir. Now, she was pushing the question onto him, with an undertone that she didn’t object to him revealing the details to Vero. This really left Komer confused about her intentions. Wasn’t she worried that her own secrets would expose her as an outsider?
“You mean she wants me to decide whether to reveal her origins?” Komer asked back.
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean,” Vero replied, meeting his gaze curiously. “Is her origin really that shocking?”
“Well, it depends on how you view it,” Komer said, licking his lips helplessly. “To be precise, this Shatima isn’t human.”
“Not human?!” Vero’s lips formed a perfect O, her eyes filled with confusion. “What do you mean? If she’s not human, is she some magical puppet you created? It doesn’t seem like it. She seems to have vitality and intelligence. I can sense that.”

“I didn’t say she lacked vitality. In fact, her vitality is stronger than ours. She’s a female ice dragon. What you see now is just her human form.” Komer scratched his head and said, “I met her while going to the Jellyfish People’s Great Swamp, and she just came with me.”

After observing Komer’s expression carefully and confirming that he wasn’t lying, Vero finally understood why Miss Shatima’s words and actions were so different from those of ordinary women, and why her thoughts often seemed strange and rebellious, completely unconventional. So that’s how it is!

A female ice dragon! This reality almost stunned Vero. Her companion on this journey was actually an alien?! It was quite ridiculous.

“Can you explain why you think she’s a good person?” After pondering for a while, Vero finally accepted this reality and asked, tilting her head.

“Well, although she’s a dragon, her wisdom isn’t inferior to ours as humans. It’s just that because she’s lived in the relatively simple dragon world for so long, she doesn’t understand our complex human society. As a result, she often views things and thinks in terms of her dragon perspective, making many of her opinions and ideas seem out of place. But she has a very pure heart, free from the cunning and deceitfulness common among humans. That’s why I consider her a good person with a pure heart. Of course, this doesn’t mean her good intentions will always yield good results—I believe you can sense that too.” Komer suppressed his laughter and spoke slowly, “But the more you get to know her, the more you’ll like her.”

Vero frowned slightly. She detected a hint of mockery in Komer’s words. It seemed Miss Shatima wasn’t as popular in the Caucasus as she claimed. But Vero herself didn’t find anything annoying about Shatima.

In the silent night, talking by candlelight, this peaceful atmosphere quickly brought Komer and Vero’s hearts, which had grown distant over time, back to how they were before. Komer found himself always willing to relax completely around Vero, revealing everything in his heart without reservation. He even didn’t hide from her secrets like his impending attack on Homer, because he believed she wouldn’t be interested in such matters and wouldn’t use them to harm him.

“Do you really intend to go to war with Homer? No wonder Uncle Philip came to Gutenberg—he must have come to ask for help.” Vero said in surprise, “Komer, have you and Uncle Philip really reached a point where war is inevitable?”
Seeing a hint of concern in the girl’s green eyes, Komer was also moved. “Oh? Philip went to Calais for help? Hmph, he’s quite well-informed. I wonder how your father responded.”
“I don’t know. You know I never interfere in my father’s affairs. He arrived in a hurry and left after just two days in Gutenberg.” Vero shook her head, then quickly added, “Komer, please don’t go to war with my father.”
Komer smiled bitterly. Could this war really be avoided just by wishing it so? It seemed this damned old man didn’t want to sit idly by and insisted on dragging others into it. He just didn’t know where else he might seek support besides Calais—would it be the Haine family in Poznan or the Ferdinand family in Silesia?
“Vero, let’s stop talking about these depressing matters. How about you stay in the Caucasus for a while longer? Once we’re done with everything here, I’ll take you to the Cordillera Wasteland to experience the rugged charm of the barbarian lands. Or maybe we could go to the Southern Central Ocean to experience the southern civilization, which is so different from the north. Oh, right, you haven’t been to the Flemish territories in the Iberian Kingdom yet, nor have you seen the elegance of Athens. I really miss those places. I also have two castles there—Bamboo Castle and Crystal Castle. Vero, I was planning to give you Crystal Castle as a birthday gift.” Komer deliberately changed the subject.
Vero also realized her words had touched on some sensitive topics. A hint of worry crossed her face. Even she, who never got involved in worldly affairs, could sense Komer’s rising influence in the Caucasus. Her father, along with the government officials and those magicians, would often mention Komer’s name, either intentionally or unintentionally. Her father would also watch her expressions carefully. Vero could only maintain an indifferent appearance to avoid arousing his suspicion. In truth, she knew her father never stopped watching her.
Men’s conversations always revolved around power and conquest. Her father was no different from this man before her. She preferred the boy who recited Shelley’s poems in the wind. Though she knew that was just one side of him, she preferred to believe that image was his true self.

The dark iron leaf armor clad over the barbarian warriors’ tall and muscular frames made them appear even more formidable. The bizarre patterns in the shape of magical beasts covering their faces had been pulled down, revealing only two deep, sinister eyes fixed straight ahead. Holding spears as thick as arms, they moved in unison with the commander who waved a small red flag attached to his back. A thunderous sound from the turtle-shell war drums echoed through the camp, as if a dense forest had suddenly risen from the ground. The spears held high formed a dark shadow, and even the entire sky seemed to darken instantly. A fierce fighting spirit surged in the air, accompanied by the roar of thousands of barbarians reverberating across the plains, causing the entire Boson Plain to tremble violently.

The swirling yellow dust advanced like seismic waves, as the barbarian infantry formations rushed forward swiftly. Each barbarian warrior had become a fierce warrior beast brimming with combat spirit, yet they were tightly bound together by the rhythmic beats of the turtle-shell war drums, ensuring every step they took was precise and synchronized. The torrential rain of arrows and stones passed unnoticed by the barbarian warriors. Their raised shields could not fully block the arrows and falling rocks, and from time to time, projectiles struck the ranks, splashing dark red blood blooms that resembled bloody patterns woven onto a black carpet—gruesome yet vivid.

The half-elf archers followed closely behind the advancing barbarian infantry. For their fragile bodies, iron leaf armor was utterly unbearable, and even magically reinforced light leather armor could not withstand arrows and stones, only reducing the severity of injuries. Yet they could not stop moving. Facing the arrows and debris raining down from the castle, the barbarian infantry would inevitably suffer heavy losses before launching an attack. Meanwhile, the half-elf archers had to get as close as possible to the city walls to be within range of their longbows, providing maximum pressure on the barbarian infantry and offering the greatest support to the siege forces.

Mihayevich, for the first time, donned a mage’s robe—a rarity for a puppet mage who never cared about formality. His sinister snake-like eyes still appeared terrifying even under the midday sun. His staff was firmly planted in the mud as he stared motionlessly into the distance.