Ranni had long realized Throne wasn't just unlucky—he was a walking disaster magnet. Enemies flocked to him like moths to flame, and not just any enemies. The worst kind. The unexpected kind. How the hell had he crossed paths with a Godskin Noble again? Weren't they supposed to be hunting Greyoll? She had no idea why the Godskin was even in Caelid. But from the way Throne described it, this wasn't chance. This was an ambush.
But why? Caria had no history with the Godskins. Those freaks had vanished centuries before she was born.
"Ranni, any ideas?"
"None. Unless someone else dragged them into this."
Throne's gaze flicked to Millicent. No way the girl was involved.
He started to shake his head—then froze. His brow furrowed. Wait. Melina? Lansseax's words echoed in his skull—how this twisted the kindling maiden's purpose. Melina's ultimate goal wasn't scouting or killing. It was burning the Erdtree. The one obstacle no one could bypass. Except through the Frenzied Flame.
If Melina couldn't—or wouldn't—burn the tree? That'd be unacceptable. Unthinkable.
The pieces weren't enough yet, but Throne had one key clue. The Black Flame that killed Iji. The Black Knife corpse on the ground. Events that hadn't even happened in the Lands Between. No detective, no matter how sharp, could find clues in the future.
A hypothesis took shape in his mind, wild but plausible. Marika had ties to the Godskins. Maybe even controlled them. So they attacked Caria. Now they're coming for me—because of Melina?
"Interesting."
His voice was low, almost admiring.
"Just how big is your game, Marika? Even hanging from that tree, your spirit won't rest."
For a heartbeat, he felt genuine respect for the Eternal Queen. This scheme was vast. So vast even Ranni hadn't sniffed it out.
"What's on your mind?"
Ranni's voice cut through his thoughts. She'd waited long enough.
"Nothing concrete. Just a theory. Hard to prove."
He kept it vague. No point in speculation.
"Hmph. Cryptic as ever."
She didn't push. Throne hoarded secrets like a dragon with gold.
"By the way, that woman's looking for you."
"Hah. Sounds like you're running messages now."
"What's a 'telephone operator'?"
He bit back the truth. No need to wound Her Highness's pride.
"A noble profession. Bridging hearts through communication. Demands impeccable skill—and fluency in every language."
"Flattery won't work." But she smiled. It sounded important. Dignified.
She became the relay tower, her mental power the conduit. Seconds later, Throne heard Melina's ragged breath in his skull.
"Your status?"
"Wyvern down. Withdrawing now, but—" A pause. Too long.
"We found Greyoll. Near the Minor Erdtree."
What? Greyoll was east? The revelation hit like a hammer. Throne, the master planner, stood dumbstruck. He stared at the coastline ahead. Overthought it. This was the improbable outcome.
"Do these wyverns really intend to flee!?"
Throne's voice tightened. Instinct made sense, but something stank.
"Throne, orders? She's not moving."
Melina pressed.
"Give me a second."
He kept his cool. Scaling a half-shattered mast, he yanked out a telescope and scanned the shore.
Several wyverns were patrolling the sky, and there were surely more on the ground. He saw some wyverns tending to their wounds on the cliffs, yet they weren't irritably fighting each other. It was like a group of soldiers camping. It was too orderly, not at all like a pack of stray dogs fleeing for their lives.
"Give the Calling Mask to Lansseax. I have something to ask her."
Acting as the operator, Ranni could hear both sides of the conversation. She was a bit reluctant, but since serious business was at hand, she didn't say anything. Soon, she heard a slightly lazy voice and instinctively frowned.
"We can't hide for much longer, you know. Are you coming or not?"
The Dragon Maiden also knew the Lunar Princess was listening and deliberately drew out her words.
Throne ignored her tone and asked bluntly, "Tell me, what is a wyvern migration like?"
"They spread their wings and fly, taking their most precious collections with them. They must have accumulated a lot of good stuff in Caelid over the years. It's a pity they can only leave it behind."
As intelligent creatures, wyverns possessed traits like greed.
Then here was the problem: these guys hadn't brought anything. And those with injured wings—how could they possibly cross the storm-lashed central sea? There were no landing spots in the vast ocean. Flying across like that was equivalent to suicide. They'd be better off fleeing to some remote corner of Limgrave. "They can't fly long distances, yet they're gathering together. This doesn't look like they're preparing for a final meal before parting ways," Throne muttered to himself, a hypothesis suddenly forming. Is Greyoll trying to use herself as bait to lure the enemy into an attack?
"One more thing. What is Greyoll most proud of?"
"Strength and defense. You can tell just by looking at her size."
"What about speed? Can she catch up to a fleeing enemy?"
"She doesn't rely on speed, but an instinct. You can think of it as Gravity Magic—similar effect, different essence. Last time, I had to use my full strength just to break through."
That would be perfect then. If someone found Greyoll and excitedly rushed up to slay the dragon, only to find her health pool so massive she couldn't be killed quickly, they would exhaust their strength.
Then, when they tried to run, they'd be held back by 'Gravity Magic.' At that moment, dozens of wyverns would swoop down. Even if each dragon just spat once, they could drown you. It was possible—no, very likely. After controlling the wyverns for so many years, they wouldn't just disband on the spot.
Throne thought to himself that it was a good thing he had split his forces to explore and discovered the wyverns hidden in northernmost Caelid. Speaking of which, Greyoll wasn't clever enough. If it were him, he would have set up more decoys rather than gathering everyone in one place.
"Say something. What, are you scared?"
"Scared my ass. I know what Greyoll is up to. She's trying to fish you out!" If it were Melina, she would certainly ask why and how. But Lansseax and Ranni were both brilliant and wise; with a little thought, they knew the answer. Greyoll was exploiting the overconfidence in Caelid following the Battle of Sellia. She was fishing, and any catch would do. If Radahn advanced too carelessly, even he might capsize in this small pond.
This was the principle of 'do not press a cornered foe.' Anyone else would have pounced excitedly, but Greyoll hadn't expected Throne to be so cautious as to search in two directions without alerting the ambushers.
"But the one she wants to catch most is still you. If I'm not mistaken, she wants to use you to extend her own life."
"Exactly."
The Dragon Maiden answered decisively this time; now was not the time for riddles. So that was it. Throne sighed.
"And then you unhesitatingly swallowed the first bait. She's already noticed you."
As soon as he finished speaking, Lansseax's pupils contracted slightly a hundred miles away. Melina's expression also changed beside her.
She wanted to say she had acted cleanly and couldn't have been exposed, but the Dragon Maiden was already nodding gravely.
"You're right. What should we do now?"
If the premise was a total collapse, they wouldn't be noticed. But if the opponent was fishing, the possibility was extremely high. Throne said no more, pinching his chin as his brain worked at full speed.
This was a difficult situation; the opponent had already seized the initiative, and no one could be blamed for that. The current situation was that Lansseax and Melina had stepped on a pressure mine. The moment they tried to leave, it would explode. In the silence, Ranni, who had been listening, couldn't hold back anymore. The best option now was to retreat.
Melina wouldn't have much trouble escaping anyway, so why care about this Ancient Dragon? No one could stop dozens of wyverns. They could easily reinforce the battlefield and merge with Greyoll, which would be enough to cause a demigod to fall.
"Throne, I command you..."
"There's a way."
Throne spoke up suddenly, saying bluntly: "Indeed, no one can stop wyverns passing through the high sky. But you are a dragon, a more powerful overlord of the sky. You have absolute suppression over wyverns. Kill Greyoll's few confidants, and the rest will lose their will to fight." Throne couldn't handle aerial combat; it had to be Lansseax. His words stunned Millicent, Ranni, Melina, and even Lansseax. They hadn't expected him to want to continue.
Wouldn't a normal person be thinking about a desperate breakout right now? But on second thought, it was actually feasible. Ancient Dragons had bloodline suppression over wyverns, and it was impossible for every wyvern to be willing to fight to the death. Kill the core few, and the rest would either surrender or flee for their lives. But who would deal with Greyoll? "I'll deal with her. Ranni, tell Blaidd to stop running around and meet up with me quickly. You two stay put and act as if you know nothing. Once I arrive, Lansseax, you immediately head west and intercept those wyverns halfway!" His voice was hurried yet steady as he laid out the battle plan, leaving Ranni unsure of what to say. The Dragon Maiden blinked. She really hadn't expected this outcome.
She thought Throne would abandon her, or if he had a conscience, help her break out. But he was still thinking about a counter-kill?
"Aren't you afraid I'll sell you out? Leave you to face Greyoll's wrath alone?"
"I was before, but not so much after the Battle of Sellia. I have a bad habit—I hate owing favors."
During the Battle of Sellia, Lansseax, who shouldn't have appeared, did.
So now, he, who shouldn't go over, would go.
"Hahaha, Throne, I'm liking you more and more. Doing the impossible? Good, it sounds quite interesting."
The Dragon Maiden laughed, her laziness fading as she seemed to regain the heroic spirit of the ancient era. Throne's lips curled up at first, then his smile froze. Hey, hey, hey, Ranni is listening! What are you blathering about?
For a moment, he felt someone was on the verge of exploding, but she held back in the end, only letting out a soft hmph.
"Then wait for me."
Throne, whose heart had just leapt into his throat, breathed a sigh of relief. He quickly cut the mental connection and summoned Torrent.
"Millicent, let's go."
The girl jumped onto the horse's back with agility and wrapped her arms around Throne's waist.
"Master, are we really going to continue and help that Ancient Dragon?"
"Fortune favors the bold. And who said I'm helping that bull-headed dragon?" Throne urged the horse forward, darting south into the forest.
"I'm helping myself!"
The Spirit Steed tore through the underbrush, hooves pounding earth with the rhythm of war drums. Wingless but swift as any gale, Torrent devoured distance—a hundred miles vanished between one breath and the next. Throne rode with his mind sharp as a naked blade. His parting words to Millicent hadn't been empty comfort. Fortune did favor the bold.
Greyoll's worth alone justified the gamble, but controlling the wyverns meant shackling Radahn's Redmanes. Lansseax's connection to Crumbling Farum Azula? Merely a bonus.
"This battle can't be lost. Ranni will understand."
His grip tightened on the reins.
"Lansseax just runs her mouth."
He wished the Ancient Dragon took things seriously. At least she didn't look like some horned beast. Thank the stars Ranni had sense. A clever woman knew when to let a man's decisions stand. She understood him—once his course was set, no force in the Lands Between could alter it.
Understanding didn't mean forgiveness. The reckoning would come later.
"Focus on what's ahead."
Only the living carried such worries. Battle left no room for distraction. Eastward movement had its perks—putting leagues between him and that thrice-damned Godskin Noble. Torrent's passage left no trace, no alarm.
The wyverns never noticed their prey slipping past. Half were licking wounds, the others dozing. Dragons mirrored men—few bothered with duty after a rout. Defeat sapped vigilance. Even if hooves stirred the air, they'd lift scaly heads, see nothing, and resume snoring.
Throne counted on their laziness. A detour would waste precious miles. This was his test. He glanced back.
"As expected. No pursuit."
Friend or foe, the Godskin Noble's approach would send wyverns into frenzy. Their slumber became his shield.
"Past these trees lies a mound," Ranni's voice cut through the dark, toneless as a whetstone on steel.
"Climb it. The abandoned camp holds your quarry."
Her detachment prickled worse than anger.
"Time yet remains. Questions?"
"Many. But you need focus."
Ice edged her words.
"Blaidd marches under my guidance. He'll arrive."
She knew what awaited him. Displeasure wouldn't cloud her priorities. Expected, yet—his chest tightened. Gratitude? No, something sharper.
There was no need to say more at this time.
"Ranni, it's good to have you. No wonder kings rise on the backs of good women."
"Good woman?"
Her scoff could frost flame.
"I am Caria's Queen."