"Do you think this would fetch us a lot of money?" Inigo asked, his voice calm and calculating as he stared down at the massive, mangled beast.
Lyra didn't answer right away. She crouched beside the wyvern, her eyes scanning its scorched hide and twitching limbs. The rhythmic, ragged breaths told her it was still barely clinging to life. "The claws alone would earn a decent sum," she murmured. "And its organs—especially the heart—are worth something to alchemists and mages. Not priceless, but rare enough to draw serious interest."
Inigo's brow lifted. "So not some ancient legend, then?"
She shook her head. "No. It's just… big. Strong. Rare. Elder wyverns don't show up often, but they're not sacred creatures or anything like that. A high-ranking predator. Dangerous, yes. Revered? No."
"Then there's no reason to feel bad about making some coin off it," Inigo said, his tone firming.
