CHAPTER 440: CHAPTER 263: FOREIGN SHIT-STIRRERS (PART 2)

"To stand by and watch death is a betrayal of the very principles of their allegiance."

The emerging smile then became as poisonous as a flower.

"That is the limitation of the chaotic good alignment."

Nifadora’s words suddenly roused the dreaming Dragon.

David could not help but throw his head back in laughter, then he mounted the mother dragon, who was playing coy, once again.

Before long, the sounds of ’not suitable for young dragons’ echoed throughout the Dragon Nest.

"PAH! They’ve stopped... how boring..." Outside the Dragon Nest, Satilaesa, who had been eavesdropping by the wall, her ears flushed red, immediately started chasing away her curious sisters with a flick of her tail.

As they dispersed, they heard the wails of ’Aunt’ Tania, who cried out:

"Where’s the justice in that! You set off fireworks when I’m not around! It took me forever to rush back from Montero Town, and now I’ve missed everything! Where’s my brother! Make him come out and set off another one before I’ll forgive him! WAH!!!"

"..." The young Brass Dragon Satilaesa, despite her tender age, felt a sudden appreciation for her father’s difficulties.

However, as soon as she saw ’Aunt’ Tania charging their way, Satilaesa immediately felt her previous thoughts might have stemmed from excessive Pride.

Being this guy’s daughter is not easy either!

She must stop ’Aunt’ Tania, or they would all be exposed!

「...」

Meanwhile, David had already devised a net for the Gloomy Lyre troublemakers. In order to engrave the Teleportation Circle, he did not hesitate to journey back to the Old Continent personally to request his Dragon father’s help with the shipment.

Under Nifadora’s personal direction, the ’chum’ for their ’fishing spot’ had already begun to be deployed.

She had not contacted King Luwalden through a Messenger to ask for his assistance.

After all, who knew to what extent these professional spies would disguise themselves, or at what stage they would place their agents.

If she had done so, the possibility of the plan being exposed would be greatly increased.

So, on the surface, it still appeared as a normal supply request for the battlefield. However, both the transportation volume and the quality of goods had been raised by more than just one tier.

In the eyes of the Vitali Empire’s higher-ups and the Elves alike, those Dragons that had taken over Port of Wallens and turned Luwalden into a puppet regime were brewing something big.

And indeed, David and his group were preparing to make a big move.

But the first target they aimed at was not the precarious Vitali Empire.

It was the Gloomy Lyre, a loose organization mostly made up of Bards and Rangers, which had been heavily funded by the Elven Queen Arasya.

That day, as the bait Nifadora had thrown onto the battlefield grew richer, the members of the Gloomy Lyre active on the borders of the Vitali Empire quickly realized a problem: they were running short of agents.

But those far away in the lands of Central Earth faced a dilemma. If they were to call for reinforcements from the Elven Kingdom, thousands of miles distant, they would have to contend with delays and troubles regarding Telepathy and authorization. Even then, whether reinforcements could arrive in time was questionable. Facing such an urgent situation, they had no choice but to lower the standards for ’prospective members,’ using some less critical plundering missions as entry tests.

This immediately attracted the eager participation of some Elves living in Central Earth under less than ideal circumstances, such as a number of Elven mercenaries.

For some Elves who had made mistakes in the past, this was simply a golden opportunity to clear their names, ’turn over a new leaf,’ and return home in glory!

So Otis, once a captain of the High Elves’ naval patrol, who had fled to Central Earth out of fear of prosecution and spent forty years as an adventurer yet was still just the captain of an obscure adventuring party, was strongly tempted. After much trouble, he finally managed to contact the Gloomy Lyre.

But what chilled him to the core was the realization: Damn it, this kind of spy work really isn’t for ordinary Elves.

They actually expect me to lead a team to find a way to steal or plunder supplies from Luwalden’s transport convoys? As an entry test?

What the hell! An adventurer party taking on a regular army? And we might even run into those Dragons?

Is this seeking death, or seeking death?

Just as Otis was hesitating, contemplating his only legitimate chance to return to the Elven Kingdom after forty years abroad, he suddenly paused.

He suddenly remembered a unique being he had met during one escort mission.

If it’s plundering, and the target is the nefarious Chromatic Dragon puppet regime...

Perhaps he would agree?

After being forced to listen to stories for five days and five nights straight, nearly driving me mad, wasn’t the name I heard most often that of the nefarious Flame Steel Dragon, David Uthos?

"I’m going all in!"

One path meant certain death; the other, rotting away in this foreign land.

Otis chose to ’seek wealth at the peril of his life’!

But just as Otis, filled with this ambition, returned to the tavern to inform his adventuring party of his plan and hoped for their full support,

what he got was silence from all members.

Then came one ’notice of departure’ after another.

Rogue: "Sorry, Captain. Right after the last heist, I decided to ’wash my hands clean’."

Priest: "Uh, I’m planning to return to my village to serve at the church; my family has already arranged everything."

Bard: "Um, the tavern owner’s daughter has taken a fancy to me. I might be getting married, Captain. Could you perhaps advance me the wedding gift?"

Faced with an endless stream of polite rejections, Otis finally lost his patience. "Get lost!" he roared, slamming his hand on the table, effectively disbanding what was left of his party.

Facing the reality of becoming a lone Elf again, Otis felt a deep sense of melancholy.

Indeed, those legendary stories and friendships extolled in the bards’ tales were all lies meant to deceive Elves.

In the end, when faced with truly difficult situations, they all bloody ran off—not even as steadfast as my animal companions.

But I could vaguely understand. After all, human lifespans are so short. My companions, who once faced death alongside me, had been replaced again and again over the past forty years.

Predictably, they either saved up enough money to return to their villages and marry, or they took an arrow to the knee. Lacking funds for a Priest to cast a Regeneration Spell, they used connections to become city guards.

Even the human partners initially attracted to my Elven features would, after a mere five or six years, transform into matrons with waists as thick as buckets...

After a few such experiences, I grew tired of it all.

That was also why Otis’s desire to return to his homeland, the Elven Kingdom, was so unprecedentedly strong.

Driven by this obsession, Otis, now completely alone, resolutely took up his longbow, short sword, and baggage, and ventured into the forest where he and his teammates had once been captured.

I hope... he still lives here.

However, recalling the ’torture’ he had faced before, this time, as he approached that lair, he took out two cotton plugs soaked in beeswax from his sleeve and stuffed them into his ears.

Although this would make me more vulnerable to threats in the dangerous forest, compared to what I’m about to face, I’d rather be deaf.

But his heart sank as he entered the sandy lair.

Last time, I would have been dragged in by a tail like a python’s by now.

Why is it so ’quiet’ this time?

Just as Otis thought the one he came to see had moved away, he sensed a faint tremor from the ground.

Delighted, Otis dashed in, shouting as he ran,

"Mr. Fulatimir, I’ve come to visit you with gifts!"

But after turning another corner, Otis the High Elf froze in his tracks.

Because there were two Dragons in this lair!

Aside from Fulatimir, the Brass Dragon, there was also a silver one!

And they were behaving like two infatuated teddy bears, smacking their lips while rapidly communicating something, rubbing against each other quickly, one on top of the other, then eagerly switching positions, their movements as joyfully unrestrained as a spinning windmill.

The arrival of Otis the High Elf interrupted the two Metal Dragons, who were amicably strengthening their bond of friendship and sharing bardic tales. They stopped abruptly, as if startled, then both turned their heads to growl at Otis,

"Who let you in?/What do you want?"

The Metal Dragons thought they had run into those meddling peers from the Gloomy Lyre again—the ones who loved to interfere in Dragon affairs and spin false tales.

After all, in the eyes of that bunch...

’Friendship’ was a crime!

"Huh?"

Otis, earplugs in, faced the Dragons’ questioning with a look of utter confusion.