Dragonlord

Ep 47. Lords Are Mean. (4)

Ep 47. Lords Are Mean. (4)

Upon Serenis’ return home in the afternoon, a rather peculiar scene greeted her beyond the front door.

The house she lived in with Patrick was an ideal size for the two of them: two separate rooms, with a comfortable living space that separated them including the kitchen. Two opposing couches filled the space, with a low, large wooden table in between.

But right now, both couches were occupied by rather familiar figures. With his usual spots occupied, Patrick was sitting by one of the stools at the kitchen, greeting his little sibling who’d just walked in.

“Uh…welcome home.”

Serenis looked towards the dragon filling one of the cushions.

“…What’s she doing in our nest.”

“Uh…”

She then turned her gaze over to the opposing cushion, noting the female enforcer occupying it.

“…And what’s she doing in our nest.”

“You see…”

To make matters worse, a peculiar scent filled the household, one that even the dragonlord could recognize from her era: that odd drink every race seemed so keen to drink to their deaths, especially on celebratory occasions. Or depressing occasions.

“Is bringing intoxicated women to one’s nest a new human custom?”

“NO!! Of course not!”

“Then explain what this is.”

Serenis sarcastically wove her hand across the air towards the two sleeping figures. Ilias and Iris were sound asleep, reeking of alcohol.

“So you see…Iris, I guess I…caught her slacking? I took her back to work, but they told me to take her away since it was time for her to be off anyways…and I have no clue where she lives.”

“…And Ilias?”

“She, uh…fell asleep at the tavern, and the tavernkeep couldn’t move her out of the table, so…”

“So you decided that it’s a good idea to bring them here after intoxicating them.”

“They were already drunk when I found them! And what else was I supposed to do?! It’s not like I know where either of them lives!”

The dragonlord shrugged in response.

‘Well, I know where one of them nests, at least.’

Serenis wasn’t particularly concerned as long as Patrick wasn’t doing any harm to them; what did concern her, however, was Light going home to find that her big sister was nowhere to be found. The half girl had bolted home in guilt about sending Ilias off like that earlier.

And to worsen the dragonlord’s own guilt, her brother spoke up once more as he pointed at Ilias.

“And by the way, the dragon girl…Ilias? She kept muttering “lord” this, “lord” that in her sleep. Isn’t that you?”

“…”

Serenis neither denied nor confirmed the mage, instead simply looking away.

And Patrick only pressed her further.

“It IS you, isn’t it? Dragon’lord’?”

“…Perhaps.”

“What did you do?? Come to think of it, how do you even know each other anyways? Sounded like you two knew each other even before last night.”

“It’s a rather long tale. I’ll tell you another time.”

Sighing, the dragonlord walked up to Ilias and wove her hand in the air. The young dragon’s body began to slowly float upwards, and Serenis gently carried the levitating youngling towards the front door, waving dismissively at Patrick.

“I’ll be a moment.”

“Wait, where’re you going?”

“Her nest in this city.”

“You know where she lives?”

“I do. It’s next to a dinery cart that sells nuts.”

“Nuts?”

“Donuts.”

“…? That’s not a nut.”

“I know.”

“…??...?”

Serenis didn’t bother clearing up Patrick’s confusion, disappearing out the door with Ilias.

Patrick shook his aching head. His gaze drifted back over to his sleeping coworker as he muttered a few words in an exaggerated, agonized voice.

“…Get up, Iris. I’m the one supposed to be on leave, not you.”

✧   ✧   ✧

After a while, Patrick was leisurely leaned back on the opposing couch from Iris. He held a small book in hand, reading up on a biography of previous archmages.

He’d first began the read in hopes of gaining hints on reaching higher circles as a mage, but even historically, there were only so many individuals that had reached the level of archmage. Even reaching the 8^th had taken the enforcer years after graduation, and higher circles were notorious for being exponentially more difficult to achieve.

‘…’50’ my ass.’

Patrick’s little sibling had jokingly – well, probably jokingly – claimed to be at the 50^th circle before. But this system of measuring magical aptitude ended at 12, with the 12^th circle being a measure to describe the deity of mana herself. There was nothing beyond that in conventional measurements.

Then again, his sibling wasn’t exactly conventional.

The book closed shut. Nowhere in this book would the author have written how to become a dragon or an archmage. The mage sighed, placing it down on the table as his gaze drifted towards the other couch.

Iris was still laying on her side. Her posture remained the same. Nothing seemed to have changed at first glance.

But her two ruby eyes were wide open, staring into her friend. Which Patrick freaked out about immediately.

“HOLY MAKER- if you’re awake, say something!”

Iris’ expression remained absolutely static. When she slowly opened her mouth to speak, the enforcer’s tone was oddly different than usual – the usual work tone had been replaced with a sentimental, reflective voice.

“Patrick. You were aware, weren’t you?”

“? What?”

“That your little brother…”

Iris slowly fixed herself upright, straightening her jacket as she stood back up. Her eyes remained fixed on her friend, and her previous drunken self was nowhere to be seen.

“…Isn’t who they claim to be.”

Patrick belatedly realized he shouldn’t have been blabbering about the whole ‘lord’ deal in Iris’ presence, asleep or not. But what really didn’t make sense, was that Iris was taking that short previous remark seriously – as if she only seeking confirmation to something she already knew.

“…No clue what you’re talking about. Were you dreaming?”

“I wasn’t asleep, Patrick. Nor was I actually drunk.”

“That’s what all the alcoholics say.”

“…”

The two enforcers were staring at each other in silence with expressionless faces, but both of them knew the other was simply hiding what was really going on through their heads.

If Patrick had known about his little sibling’s identity beforehand, then it was a serious breach of duty to have remained silent about their false profile. And Iris was the last person to let such things slide.

But Patrick then quizzically tilted his head. Iris wasn’t saying a word, instead only staring at him like a statue.

‘Where’s the usual questioning? Where’s the usual ‘You’re under arrest’ phrase?’

When the female enforcer finally opened her mouth, the words weren’t anything Patrick had expected.

“…First’s…”

“? What?”

“Starchild, protector, second...heart…”

It didn’t take long for Patrick to realize his friend wasn’t even talking to him as her eyes dropped to the floor. She was muttering to herself, almost as if he wasn’t there at all. And he had absolutely no clue what his coworker was muttering under her breath.

“Uh…Iris?”

“Human, dragon…protector…how…”

“…Iris? You okay?”

“Human, dragon…wait, human. Human. That’s it!”

The muttering enforcer regained the gleam in her eyes as she came to her own conclusion. She finally seemed to take note of Patrick again as she pointed her finger at him; unlike the enforcer’s usual stern demeanor, Iris wore a faint grin on her face, her tone noticeably elevated.

“Patrick, you get along with Zion, don’t you?”

“Uh…I guess? Why?”

“Great. Thanks. Sorry in advance.”

“…?”

Just when Patrick was beginning to think the alcohol had done something critical to his friend, layers of thick, pure mana flooded the living room in seconds. The mana in the air suddenly grew overwhelmingly dense, almost to a point where Patrick felt like he’d be crushed by the pressure surrounding him.

When Patrick tried to speak, the mage found his voice completely choked in. His trembling arms struggled to pull the rest of the body upright in an attempt to rise, but the effort was futile under the invisible weight over him.

Meanwhile, Iris stood perfectly content under the same pressure. She nervously paced about the room, sparing occasional glances towards her choking friend.

“Don’t worry, Patrick. You’ll be a step closer to archmage if you manage to live.”

The pressure worsened as the surrounding mana began to crack into Patrick’s body, soon rushing into him in gigantic waves. It was hardly any different from water rushing into his lungs while drowning; his heart quickened uncontrollably while trying to regulate the sudden influx of mana, but his human body could only handle so much.

His body soon became limp as his consciousness was, quite literally, snuffed out.

Iris casually walked over to fix her limp friend’s posture so that he was lying down straight on the couch. Although Patrick was only unconscious, the practice seemed nothing short of Iris preparing to place him in a coffin.

“Hopefully your sibling isn’t anything like mine.”

Or else, Patrick really might end up in a coffin soon.

The standing enforcer stretched her arms as she felt the atmosphere’s mana coursing about her. After years of living in regular environments, the dense atmosphere even felt nostalgic in a way.

“Say Patrick, do you remember how long it’s been since we graduated?...Oh right, you can’t talk right now. My bad.”

Iris began to reflect on her years spent as a student at the Magic Institute. Although she’d never been caught, she was a ball of trouble in that place.

‘…Disguising as a student to meet a deity, huh? Might’ve actually worked a couple years ago.’

“Pft…haha.”

Enforcer Iris Alpid, an alumnus of the Magic Institute who joined the enforcement sector immediately after her graduation with astute skills and understanding in magic. But little was known about her background, and even less about her history before enrolment.

“You know Patrick, I know you can’t hear me right now, but I never liked my name. I like ‘Iris’ a lot better. It sounds so…normal. Don’t you think so? ‘Felicis’ just sounds like a demon’s name.”

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