Dragon Realm
Episode 37's
MITO PICA. ANOTHER name to add to the history of destruction.
The dragon horde of Duke Toma ransacked the unsuspecting city. The guards guarding the wall died quickly while walking slowly, the little drake who did not think hard hit the stone until they or the wall gave up.
There are always more small drakes.
Wyvern, firerake, airdrake—all wreaking havoc, wounding and killing those who fought or fled. The worst are those who take human form; they do not kill with the ferocity of beasts, but with sadistic calculations of the thinking mind. Even the little drake and its kind avoid.
There was some resistance, and a small part of it was still there. The troops stationed deeper in the city had obtained enough time to prepare themselves. The first wave of hordes that reached the barracks only found death. Unfortunately, the numbers are on the side of the invaders. The remaining human commander chose to retreat to the surrounding land and, if possible, went to Zuu, Wenslis, or Penacles, if the city had not fallen at that time. The citizens of Mito Pica are doing as the citizens of any region attacked.
They flee for their lives if they are fast enough and die if they are slow. More civilians were killed than soldiers, but there were always more civilians killed than soldiers. This is the nature of war.
In this case the Lady is.
His strength was still not normal. He was forced to stop twice before reaching the countryside near the dying city. The rural term is the best euphemism; most of the nearby land has been torn under the participants' claws, fingernails, and feet. Many trees fell. Lady had spent a day exploring the area. He did not want to patrol or, worse, Duke Toma himself. It is said that Toma was a powerful witch in her own right, a throwback to her earlier days. Only her egg pattern prevented her from joining the ranks of the Dragon Monarch. Nevertheless, he was second only to them and, with the Gold authority and power he controlled himself, he could even rule them at certain times.
Questioning refugees has given him a vague picture of his goals. It was far from the city, closer to the village that remained untouched by this massacre. Toma was smart and cunning, but this time he was wrong. It wasn't Mito Pica who raised Cabe—not directly—but this nameless village. His luck now depended on how close the hunter's house was to the village. If it was close, then it might have been missed. If not …
A small group of firearms, shaped like men and mounted, appeared out of nowhere. They chased three horsemen, one family. An old man and two younger people, maybe a newly married couple or the boys.
They would not be able to defeat the fearsome horse of the dragon man. Already, the gap between the groups was closing.
Gwen protected. He had cast a translucent spell around him. If he ignored the situation, he would be safe, undetected by Toma's strength. If he intervenes, he threatens his own chances.
He interfered.
The path used leads to a patch of trees that survived the battle. Madam smiled. Plants are his friends, his willing servants. He talked to them, told them what he wanted and why. They were happy with the idea of serving him.
Humans and horses passed through unscathed. Firerake wasn't so lucky. The leader, convinced that his prey is only moments from capture, pulls in front of the others. A stray branch hit him in the face; he brushed it off. Another stronger limb nearly knocked him off his mount. Firedrake barely ducked in time.
With a satisfying crack, the leader fell from the saddle, his head tilted. There is no doubt that he is dead. A rider tries to avoid his fallen comrade. The enchanted Drake underneath stumbled upon a root that had never been above the ground a moment before.
The poor rider was thrown to the ground, where he landed with a thud. He's not moving.
Two of the remaining firerakes went down. The others retreated, their half-shadowed eyes fixed on the trees around them. Gwen called out to her allies; she had already made her presence felt for too long. He hoped that Toma was involved in many things and did not concentrate his strength.
The remaining riders take their fallen friends and drag them off a dangerous path. From the safety of his spell, the enchantress could see that the second victim was also dead. The two bodies were stacked on the backs of one of the two additional animals. Firerake had given up on his prey; also, because they would never catch them after this long delay.
It was also clear that none of them wanted to pass through the seemingly innocent grove of small trees. Madam smiled.
The sense of victory did not last long. From here, he has to walk. There is no point in going popping up from one place to another in search of a cabin that may or may not be there. Toma would definitely be interested in him by then. Moreover, he could easily miss his target like that.
Strengthening her invisibility spell, Lady walks through destruction, destruction, and—dia thanks Rheena, the goddess of the jungle—an occasional plot of land that remains untouched by the horrors of the butcher Toma.
An hour passed. The land here is almost untouched. Here and there, the crushed brush showed great power movements, but Gwen had no training to identify which side it was on. The road seemed to be heading in the general direction he was heading towards. An unpleasant feeling crept into his heart.
Twenty minutes later, he saw something that must have been man-made. That it was a cabin could not be verified; it had been destroyed by robbers. He almost stumbles upon the dead form of a small drake, his charm gone. No one could have thought it was a horse now. Or a dragon, for that matter. It burned well. Gwen touched the remains and detected something very familiar.
There was another form nearby. One-third he found was only a few meters away from it. Both were firerakes, killed while in human form. It is evident from the fact that their weapons are still holed up that they have been caught red-handed.
What happened to the other attackers? In that case, where are the cabin dwellers? Calling to remember some of her stronger defensive spells, Lady moved cautiously towards the ruins of the building.
He found more traces of firearms near the front door. A person is actually in the process of changing shape at the time of his death. Half-grown wings, too long arms, and clawed legs. It hasn't been burned. They've frozen to death. Imminent.
More and more, the work dredged the memory of his subconscious.
A groan. He stiffened, hoping every second would be attacked by other robbers. The second groan erases that belief; this is the human voice. The sound of a dragon would be hoarse, even hissing. It's more high-pitched, like a singer.