The two of them landed on an unremarkable residential building in the royal capital. The moment his feet touched the roof, Leopold shifted back into his human form. He crouched at the edge of the roof.
Isabella stood behind him.
“It's been a long time since I last flew,” she said softly.
“Yeah,” Leopold sat down beside her. “I think the last time I flew was when we were chasing the Dragon Slayers that day.”
“That was different.” Isabella tilted her head slightly to look at him, her eyes reflecting the soft glow of the night. “Last time, we were forced to rush. But this time...”
She paused, seemingly searching for the right words.
“...To clear our heads?” Leopold suggested tentatively.
“Something like that.” Isabella smiled and looked away. “It's just that the underground is too cramped. It's nowhere near as free as the sky.”
The tips of Leopold's ears burned slightly. He looked away, focusing on the distant rooftops of the residential area.
“Bella.”
“Yeah?”
“...You're right. The underground really is too cramped.” He paused. “Dragons belong to the sky. Dragons need freedom... not hiding away in cracks between rocks.”
Isabella didn't speak, listening quietly.
“But we can't leave yet.” Leopold's voice dropped. “We should only go out after we undergo our second slumber.”
After a moment, Isabella spoke up. “...Have you really thought it through about the second slumber?”
“The duration of our second slumber is forty years, Leo.” Isabella looked at Leopold. “That means we'll have to sign another long contract, locking away a whole century of our lives.”
“I haven't fully decided yet,” Leopold admitted honestly. “It's just that the surface is too dangerous. I don't dare risk everyone's safety on a gamble.”
A brief silence fell between them after Leopold finished speaking.
Isabella sat beside him, resting her hands gently on her knees as she tilted her head to look at him.
She didn't rush to speak. She just watched him quietly for a long moment before speaking softly.
“Leo, are you afraid?”
Leopold sighed and confessed, “...A little. I'm afraid of making the wrong decision and hurting everyone.”
Isabella didn't respond immediately. She sat beside him in silence for a moment, then gave a soft hum of agreement.
“Actually... I'm afraid too.”
Isabella continued to look straight ahead, not meeting his eyes.
“I'm afraid of far more things than you can imagine. I'm afraid of Thranduil finding me, afraid of the angels on the surface, afraid of so many things.”
“But in the end, we are outsiders. Outsiders don't belong underground...” Isabella lowered her eyes.
Outsiders? Not belonging underground, the free sky... Leopold's eyes flickered.
“Isabella, you're a genius!”
“A genius?”
“Yes!” Leopold stood up excitedly, looking out over the silent royal capital. “The underground world is so vast. How could we be the only four outsiders here?”
Isabella didn't reply immediately. Sitting on the roof, she quietly watched Leopold's excited profile, a faint smile slowly spreading in her eyes.
“So... did you think of someone?”
“I suspect the one hiding something is Elder Minnie!”
Two days later, on the other side.
Gorn stood before a sand table. With only two strongholds left, the Second and Third Regiments of the Bronzebeard Tribe would soon march upon the gates of Bratak.
The tent flap was pulled back, and an old soldier walked in, clutching a sealed scroll of parchment.
“Patriarch, urgent news from the rear.”
Gorn didn't look up. “Read it.”
“The Fifth Elder has been stripped of his logistics post on the grounds of 'withholding military supplies from the front lines and suspected collusion with the enemy.' Furthermore... the Fifth Elder has gone missing...”
A collective, suppressed gasp echoed through the tent.
“The Fifth Elder?” one general said in disbelief. “He's always been in charge of logistics. How could this—”
“The Fifth Elder is missing,” Gorn repeated. “He went missing after being dismissed?”
“No, the Fifth Elder didn't attend the Council of Elders meeting at all.”
“Give me the details.” Gorn turned his back, a faint sense of unease creeping into his heart.
Standing by the entrance, the old soldier tightened his grip on the parchment scroll before reading further. “The Council of Elders convened an emergency meeting two days ago, presided over by the Grand Elder. Allocation documents signed by the Fifth Elder himself were presented at the meeting, but the Fifth Elder was absent.”
“This is trouble. Who is the commander of the First Regiment currently stationed in the capital?” Gorn frowned. He had transferred Yune from the First Regiment and sent the original commander to the Third Regiment.
“The First Regiment Commander... is the Fourth Elder's nephew. He was appointed just last month.”
“If I recall, the Seventh Elder was also promoted by the Fourth Elder, right?” Yune remarked from the side.
Gorn didn't turn around. He stared at the model of Bratak on the sand table—the main city of the Greystone Alliance. In just two more battles, his flag would be flying beneath its walls.
But if the supply line was cut, the army would no longer be able to advance.
“...Who sent this message?” Gorn finally spoke.
“A letter written by the Sixth Elder himself.” The old soldier shook the parchment. “The letter says the Council of Elders has passed a resolution. The Fourth Elder will temporarily take over logistics, and the Seventh Elder will assist in supervision...”
In other words, the only one in the rear who could counter the Fourth Elder was the Grand Elder. Gorn trusted the Grand Elder, but without military power, the Grand Elder was fighting a losing battle alone and could only buy time through procedural delays.
Gorn finally turned around, his gaze sweeping over the faces in the tent—the old soldier, Yune, and several regiment commanders.
“Yune, take a detachment of—” Gorn started, but he suddenly realized something was wrong.
The Greystone Alliance had collapsed at the first blow, yet their leadership was still stubbornly holding out at Bratak. Looking back, this felt exactly like a trap to draw him away from the royal capital.
And the Seventh Elder, Minnie Gale.
She was the candidate recommended by the Fourth Elder under the pretext of “including commoner representatives and expanding the Council of Elders' popular support.”
At the time, he was busy preparing for negotiations with the Greystone Alliance. He needed public support and also had to show goodwill to the Council of Elders so they wouldn't perceive him as acting unilaterally.
He remembered that day. Minnie had stood at the entrance of the council chamber, wearing ill-fitting clothes, her head lowered, looking utterly lost.
He had been careless...
“Patriarch?” the old soldier called out tentatively.
“...Yune,” Gorn said, a cold sweat breaking out on his back.
“Here.”
“Take two hundred men and retreat to the capital immediately! Move at maximum speed!”
The remaining generals in the tent exchanged glances. One of them couldn't help but ask, “Patriarch, what about Bratak...”
“Leave it for now.” Gorn didn't hesitate. He had quickly made his judgment; as long as nothing went wrong in the rear, taking Bratak was only a matter of time.
“Pass down my orders: the frontline forces are to transition to a defensive posture immediately. Do not let the Greystone Alliance realize we've withdrawn men!”
“Yes, sir!”
One by one, the commanders filed out of the tent, leaving Gorn standing alone in front of the sand table.
Gorn let out a helpless sigh. He had originally been only two days away from reaching the city walls and ending the entire war.
Minnie, who on earth are you? And the Fourth Elder, what exactly are your intentions?
“Mr. Leopold, the capital is in danger...”
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