At dusk in Seagull Town, the sunset painted the sky a fiery red, casting a matching hue upon the sea. Seabirds wheeled above the jagged, rocky islands, their cries echoing the day's end. "Damn it, damn it!" Count Bakin Glafsen muttered anxiously, descending from his carriage with the aid of a stool his servant provided. A formidable figure had arrived in Seagull Town and was currently within Glafsen Castle. Whispers suggested the visitor possessed a volatile temper, prone to explosive anger. Middle-aged and carrying a corpulent frame that hindered swift movement, Count Bakin hurried back towards Glafsen Castle, the white city walls glowing under the crimson twilight.
"Rumble—" A deep, thunderous dragon's roar suddenly vibrated the air nearby. Count Bakin's head snapped up, his expression shifting instantly. Beside the white city wall, a bronze giant dragon lay like a slumbering mountain, its cold, bright copper eyes surveying the castle's towers. The salty sea breeze carried a faint, rusty scent, irritating the throat, as if threatening to choke. "Gods bless us," Count Bakin whispered, closing his eyes briefly in silent prayer.
Escorted by layers of guards, he entered Glafsen Castle, his home for half his life. Inside the great hall, a shadow like spilled ink seemed to smother the splendid white marble decor. Maids and knights stood silently on either side, heads bowed low. The silence, isolating them from the sounds outside, created a terrifyingly oppressive atmosphere. "Why aren't the candles lit?" Count Bakin complained, pushing open the heavy door and immediately sensing the room's dreadful ambiance. Silence! A deathly silence. Everyone trembled,不敢作声. Someone clearly understood the situation.
Accompanying him were two solemn knights in silver armor and white robes, Sir Ryan and Sir Harold, the captain of the guards. "Your Highness," Sir Harold said gravely, noticing the silver-haired figure with his back to the hall. He had been dispatched to Seagull Town to investigate the pirate situation plaguing the Three Maidens' Nation.
Hearing his words, Count Bakin squinted, finally noticing the two individuals in the hall's center. "The Count Bakin of the Glafsen family, I've heard much about you," one of them said, turning around with a smirk. "Y-Y-Your Highness," Count Bakin instinctively recoiled half a step. Emon crossed his arms over his chest and said slowly, "Did you not see my dragon?"
At that moment, the sun was sinking lower. Silver-blonde hair contrasted sharply with a lavish black outfit in the dimming hall. But it was his cold face that truly commanded attention. A line of sweat beaded on Count Bakin's forehead, and he wiped it away with his sleeve, forcing a smile. "I saw it; the 'Bronze Fury' left by His Majesty the Sage King has visited Seagull Town many times."
"Yes, he always comes to the noble's castle with good intentions," Emon's gaze was piercing. He continued casually, "I won't do the same." Won't do what? Count Bakin wiped more sweat, his thoughts spiraling chaotically. "It seems Lord Bakin doesn't welcome me," Aemon suddenly smiled, turning his head towards the shadow opposite.
Lannar, wearing a light blue dress, stood a few steps away, her hands at her sides, maintaining an air of indifferent elegance. She seemed more like an observer than someone seeking attention. Aemon glanced her up and down, then silently turned his head away. With her quiet and gentle demeanor, and a tall, well-proportioned figure, she naturally drew attention wherever she went. Lannar returned his gaze, a hint of teasing beneath her reserved exterior, as if to say, What are you looking at? Aemon, fully aware of her gaze, offered no response. As their eyes met, the others in the hall broke out in a cold sweat. Count Bakin kept his head bowed, muttering under his breath.
"Lord Bakin!" Aemon suddenly stopped him. "I heard that you have detained my cargo ship."
Count Bakin's face paled. He hurriedly stammered, "No, it is the spies who have infiltrated the Three Women Kingdom in the port and temporarily seized all the ships."
"Oh, your statement is very different from what I heard," Aemon feigned doubt.
Count Bakin stumbled over his words. "It's definitely a spy of the Three Women's Country, and the Graffson family is working hard to investigate."
The reality, of course, was far from this. Boarding the cargo ship under the guise of investigation was a pretext to search for its origin. So many goods were constantly flowing in and out, supposedly from a free trade city-state. If Seagull Town could establish this trade route, the profits would skyrocket.
"Barkin Grafson!" Just as he thought he might have convinced the prince, a sharp shout echoed through the hall.
Count Bakin started and looked up. "You detained my cargo ship!" Aemon's tone was aggressive. "What price do you plan to pay at the moment of being pierced?" Dragons, he implied, had no patience.
"No, I swear I didn't lie to you," Count Bakin said with a forced, weak smile, trying to conceal the fear churning within him.
Aemon's fingers twitched near his waist. He flicked out a Valyrian steel dagger, its edge as sharp as a dragon's tooth. "Which hand touched my ship?" He sneered, disbelief evident in his voice. "Or a lying tongue and an uncontrollable palm, which do you wish to keep?" The Targaryens acted on their words. Anyone who dared to lay a hand on what was his would pay a price.
Count Bakin's mind went blank. He opened his mouth but found himself unable to speak. The crisp sound of the Valyrian steel dagger landing on the stone floor echoed in the silence. Not only he, but even the guards and entourage behind him, paled visibly.
Aemon was unnervingly calm. "The tongue or the palm, it's all the same." He took a step forward, the sound of his boots striking the floor sharp and clear. In the stunned silence, he said lightly, "I will take it back to Riverdale and hang it on the city wall to warn the people of the fate of thieves and liars." As he spoke, a chilling smile touched his lips.
"Gollum~~" Count Bakin swallowed hard, instinctively protesting, "No, you can't do this to me."
Eamon's smile widened, but it held no warmth. "Then you are not only a thief and a liar, but also a coward with no spine."
"Prince," Sir Harold interjected, glancing around at the escalating tension. Count Bakin was drenched in sweat, his eyes fixed on the young prince. A sudden thought flashed through Sir Harold's mind: Dragon Slayer Emon.
Across the hall, Emon moved with sudden speed, swiftly stepping forward to retrieve the "Dragon Tooth" dagger. His face was like frost as he said, "If you don't give it, then I will take it myself." The Valyrian dagger glinted ominously, illuminating the dimly lit hall. Count Bakin's face turned ashen, and he stumbled backward in fear. The guards instantly drew their swords, positioning themselves protectively in front of their lord. Emon's advance did not falter, his eyes burning with cold light.
"No! No!" Count Bakin, unwilling to risk the prince's threat, cried out in surrender, "Your Highness, I am willing to admit my crimes. The Grafson family will do our utmost to compensate your losses." His voice was high-pitched and grating, betraying his noble status. His terrified expression was a silent plea for mercy.
At that moment, the young prince paused, his cold gaze scrutinizing the trembling count. "Hoo, hoo, hoo~~" Count Bakin gasped for breath, his heart pounding in his chest.
"Don't be scared, just a joke," Emon's icy demeanor melted away like snow, replaced by a disarmingly kind smile. "I believe your words, just release my cargo ship." The smile on his face bore no trace of the menacing figure who had just brandished a deadly weapon. Count Bakin stood petrified, his entire body shaking. Emon's unpredictable nature chipped away at his composure ounce by ounce.
"My cargo ship has been delayed for several days. You will compensate me several times the value of this shipment in golden dragons," Emon stated matter-of-factly, a playful smile returning to his lips. He flicked his wrist, sending the "Dragon Tooth" dagger spinning into a fleeting display of cold steel before smoothly sheathing it at his waist. No one dared to doubt that it could just as easily have been plunged into someone's forehead. Sir Harold quietly slipped out of the immediate group, standing aside. Lord Bakin had made a grave error, and fear of further misunderstanding gripped the hall.
Boom— A deep rumble shook the castle, as if a violent wind had been torn apart by an immense force. Everyone looked up, seeing through the vibrating stained glass windows the bronze giant dragon spreading its vast wings, soaring against the fading light of the sunset.
Emon remained unperturbed, slowly walking back towards the silver-haired beauty. "It's grown up," Lanal observed, looking out the window. Emon's voice held a subtle double meaning. "It's not the only one that's grown up." His words subtly addressed any unspoken questions about Wormisol's sudden massive increase in size, adding a touch of charm to her already captivating face.
Lanal met his gaze unabashedly, her voice resonating with a playful undertone. "Hmm, yes it has. The little one has become a great hero." Just past her twentieth birthday, she was in the full bloom of her youth, her every glance holding an enchanting allure.
"Hehe, the Dragon Slayer will eventually become the Evil Dragon," Emon said with a slight smile, uttering a profound truth. From the moment he rose to power, many would seek his downfall. Now, the first wave of trouble had arrived.
Count Bakin approached with a slight tremble, bowing low. "Your Highness, your goods will be ashore soon. The Grafson family will compensate for the delay." They had held up the cargo ship for four days, meaning they owed four times the total value in compensation. But thinking of the 'Bronze Fury' waiting outside, he could only grit his teeth and swallow his resentment. Emon glanced sideways, not even deigning to look directly at the count.
"Your Highness, the pirates of the Three Sisters Kingdom are causing trouble, and His Majesty the King is quite worried about it," Sir Harold interjected at the opportune moment, explaining the purpose of this unexpected visit. Seahawk Town's port was closed, indicating that the straits were also unsafe. The Valeryan family was proving unreliable, and they needed to find allies who shared a common enemy.
Emon raised an eyebrow. "Where is my father?"
"Prince Damon is stationed at the Stone Steps Islands, but recently we heard he is traveling around the Free Trade City-States, giving the pirates from the Three Sisters Kingdom a chance to take advantage," Sir Harold explained tactfully.
Emon laughed lightly. The Stone Steps Islands were not the kingdom's territory but a vital maritime passage. His uncle was neglecting the situation, and the Sea Serpent had not sent reinforcements. Old man Damon was too busy basking in his title of 'King of the Strait and Sea' to manage this crisis. This mess should have been entrusted to those who were truly capable.
Lanal looked up at the sound of his amusement, calmly stepping forward towards a blonde girl protected by the guards. "Miss Lanal." The blonde girl appeared nervous, holding a tray with bread and salt. She was Count Bakin's youngest and most beautiful daughter. Sending her to present the traditional offering of bread and salt to the young prince with true dragon blood held numerous unspoken intentions.
"Thank you for your hospitality. Please send some to him as well," Lanal said gently, pinching off a piece of bread, dipping it in salt, and eating it. The blonde girl paled, stealing a glance at the young prince, her legs feeling weak.
"Don't be afraid, he won't eat you," Lanal said with a knowing smile. The blonde girl gritted her teeth and went to offer the bread and salt.
"Thank you for your hard work," Emon said, glancing over and casually taking a piece of bread, dipping it in salt, and putting it in his mouth. Count Bakin's eyes lit up, a wave of relief washing over him. He no longer had to be consumed by anxiety. The blonde girl, hearing the polite words, unexpectedly lifted her head, her face flushing crimson. The prince's voice was so kind, and he treated others with such courtesy. Perhaps he wasn't such a terrible person after all. Emon didn't notice her reaction, his gaze meeting Lanal's.
"Your Highness, Seahawk Town will never disappoint you again," Count Bakin declared, regaining the enthusiasm of a merchant eager to please. He called for the maids to prepare dinner, intending to properly ingratiate himself with the powerful prince.