"So, uh, how far do you want me to go?" Maple asked, flying over the easternmost mountains of Kasserlane. No reply. "Of course, nobody's home."
What did they even expect from her?
Bring over tonnes of books—oh, but don't get spotted, we don't want people to know you're a dragon. Then take over those overcomplicated illusions.
And, by the way, run a recon mission towards the Halaima Pass, too, because—
"Oh," she paused, hovering over a low-hanging cloud. "Some folks are actually coming."
She spotted about a hundred men, riding fast despite the rough terrain.
Nomads. But not the kind she was familiar with from a hundred years back.
Their clothes and gear should have been a cacophony of colours. Silk and furs, the luxury items of the Far East, but instead, they wore light leather armour and uniforms.
Not the usual tribal marauders, but an organised scouting force.
"Yeah, this seems like trouble," she mumbled to herself, flying further to the east. "It would be nice if someone answered me right about now."
At this distance, she could only contact those few people she knew well.
Konrad—who must have been in a strange space-time bubble—and his first haremette.
But for whatever reason, Lady Liliana ignored her messages the entire time, too.
Was she busy treating the wounded? Knowing her true capabilities, that couldn't be the case.
"Somebody?" she tried again, hoping that her new master would respond sooner or later.
Without his orders, she'd have to make her own decisions, and until now, all they've caused her were trouble. Should she explore further? But, she couldn't run the broadcasts then.
Should she return and ask that angel instead?
It would waste valuable time.
Why was that tournament even important to continue at this point?
Konrad was to fight in the next mock battle, but the angel ripped him away from this plane of existence. All she could do was keep probing his mind for an answer.
And, well, try to make sense of the things she saw down below.
"Nothing," she muttered, flying in a wide circle. "Not even animals."
Last time she had to explore the kingdom, she didn't go this far, so she had no comparison.
She expected the lands beyond the Halaima Pass to be less populated, but not devoid of all life.
Not a single settlement—well, these were nomadic people after all—but not much else, either?
And then, at the edge of her vision, far sharper than a human's eyes, she saw something dark.
A large city made of canvas, tents and yurts stretching over half the length of the horizon.
She wanted to take a closer look, but finally, a familiar voice echoed in her mind.
'Maple? You were asking?'
It was Konrad. At last.
She sighed, turning around, trying to explain the situation as best she could.
'You were right, master,' she started. 'I saw a company's worth of nomads racing towards the pass. And a camp larger than Aset and Halaima put together, far to the east.'
'How far exactly?' her saviour asked, his emotions more level than she had expected.
'Ah, um, on foot? About a week from the Pass,' she tried to gauge it. 'Their horsemen could make the trip in a good day, though. Want me to give them a warm welcome?'
It could have been her time to shine, to make up for the stupid mistakes she had made.
She was eager to let out some steam—and dragonflames—but Konrad rejected the idea.
'Return to me. Now,' he commanded, his thoughts firm, 'my bout is about to start. You're going to broadcast it. Better than the last one.'
He had a strange new authority in his mental voice, as if something had changed.
And it's been only half an hour—for her, at least.
'As you wish, bossman,' she thought, turning in a wide angle. 'I'll be there in a minute.'
No reply came; Konrad must have been back in that cursed bubble again.
She took a last glance at the enormous camp, trying to guess how many nomads gathered there. It had to be tens, if not hundreds of thousands. And their aim was rather obvious.
***
"So what's the plan?" Konrad asked in the now familiar stillness of time. "If I could contact my twin brother, the tribes could welcome the scouts, but—"
"No, let them roam," Gabrielle said, shaking her head.
He narrowed his brows.
"You don't expect me to sacrifice my people, right?"
"Sacrifice?" the angel scoffed. "You heard the dragon. These are scouts, not marauders."
That, he did. It was odd to read someone's thoughts from that far away, without actual telepathy. He improved his theoretical knowledge at a speed he thought was impossible.
Well, because it was.
He'd spend days reading, practising, organising his thoughts, but for the outside world?
They didn't even reach the location of the next bout yet.
"Maou Midori is not stupid," Gabrielle claimed. "He is careful. He didn't make a single move until he knew that the Green Mage was gone. Now, he's scouting. Removing obstacles."
"Like the king and Zoltan?" Konrad asked.
He focused on magic alone, so in strategic questions, he felt as clueless as before.
"I'm not sure about that scamster, but the king was an obvious choice," she said, nodding. "And the Silver Mage. Anyone with the potential to stand against him."
"So that's why you suggested I'd call Maple back," he muttered, putting the pieces together.
Well, the dragon was powerful, but she had already fallen into a trap once for a full century.
By the Green Mage, who shouldn't even be alive back then, and yet—
"Do you think we could find him?" Konrad asked, an idea starting to take shape in his exhausted mind. "The Green Mage, I mean. This Maou guy seems to be afraid of him."
Gabrielle sighed, her slender fingers drumming on her knees and her frilly blue dress.
In a sense, they've spent about a week together without a break.
Outside of this world's time, and—until Konrad's lungs got used to the strange pressure—they have kissed a lot. Now they shared this odd intimacy, and Lily's jealous mental probings.
'Konny sweety,' the demoness intruded on the frozen moment. 'You can't be this dumb, right?'
"What?" he asked, confused how her voice even penetrated the barrier between time and space.
"She infiltrated a while back," the archangel noted. "But since she wasn't a bother, I'd let her be."
'Oh, gee, thanks, Gabby-chan,' the ginger snapped, her thoughts echoing in the carriage. 'If I knew you brainwashed my boyfriend, I would've intervened, though.'
"Brainwashed?" he repeated, his earlier confidence evaporating fast. "What do you mean?"
'That you didn't make the most obvious of connections, dear,' Lily claimed.
Connections. What did he miss?
Sure, his head was a mess, the magic formulas and many different spells he learned overflowing. He got no sleep in the frozen time, and he was completely exhausted.
He figured out why it was important to prove himself.
Why the tournament was more than a simple show.
That the 'endgame' he was working towards was fast approaching.
So what else?
'Oh, dear,' Lily's thoughts scattered his own. 'You can't have those two fight each other.'
Silence. Then, an explanation that shattered everything he thought he knew.
'If you had read the clues, you'd know—Meow Midori and the Green Mage are the same.'