for embezzling the dragon’s treasury. Apparently, he hadn’t even come close to my treasury. The cart was loaded only with household goods and some unpretentious tools that were usually used for work in the mines. Gee, I thought he was afraid he’d run into my claws in his rush to satisfy Rosa’s greed. But it looks like he’s just going to relocate. But he did feel guilty about acting so cautiously. Maybe it was the shadow of the dragon in my eyes that scared him. Some people were said to have the gift of seeing it right above my head. It seemed especially creepy on a sunny day, since it was pitch black.
With nothing to do, I decided to follow the gnome. His footprints were still clearly visible in the road dust, and where the chain of footprints broke, I resorted to magic. It showed me by a golden thread the way to the very depths of the forest where the rogue had evidently lived before he met me.
There was indeed a tiny door in the trunk of an oak tree. It had been locked with magic before, like any such dwelling, but now it stood open. The dwelling had an abandoned look. There was a strong smell of fumes. There was some kind of experimentation going on here that had led to an explosion in an underground mine that was most definitely located deep beneath these grounds. I peered through the open door. Inside everything was coal-black. The stairway down was almost all burned out. The oak tree itself, scorched from the inside, had not collapsed only because of a spell cast on it long ago. No wonder why the owner of the house was in such a hurry to leave the place.
I should have helped the poor man and repaired the place with magic. I prepared to do so, but the smell of burnt grass reached my nostrils. I looked around and found that the trees nearby were standing with burnt branches. Curious, who would allow a forest fire on my property?
I walked a little farther and there were dozens of fallen, scorched trees. The dryads must have died in them! Would I be able to bring them back to life? I touched the scorched bark lightly, and it crumbled to ash beneath my fingers. The smell of burning was no less alarming than the noxious black vapors over the soil. Only dragon fire could smell like that! But I wasn’t burning anything here. Was I drunk and didn’t realize what I was doing. No, I immediately dismissed that notion. When I drink, I don’t usually get tipsy. It’s a peculiarity of mine. Still, the flattering ashes were very reminiscent of the aftermath of a quick dragon raid. The many burned trees looked like the houses of a ravaged settlement, with at least one spirit living in each trunk. What kind of scoundrel could have released a spell that caused such damage? Besides, the wretch was so strong and reckless that he dared to ride into my territory. The suspicion of Vincent was very strong. He must have found some way to break down all the magical barriers to the Empire from his return and seek revenge on me for sending him away. The idiot didn’t realize how easily I could snap his neck. He’d gained at the School of Witchcraft the meager experience, of which he was quite proud. He was quickly kicked out of the school, but he was easily the bane of anyone foolish enough to make contact with him. In this case, it was my curse.
The entire lawn behind the woods was burned. It used to be fragrant with forget-me-nots and a stream of healing water. Now it was only the scorched to ashes soil that gave off such noxious fumes as if a black monster had lain beneath it.
A memory immediately struck my head: a whole scorched country that had once flourished, and then there was nothing left but poisonous soil that would never bear fruit again, and underneath the layers of which a huge black monster was burrowing. That country was my homeland. Now there was no life in it, except for the ash monsters that swallowed ships lost at sea.
The memory was very unpleasant, and I hurried away from the scorched meadow. I’ll come back here later and use magic to fix it. For now, I needed to get out and about. It would be nice to catch the dwarf and ask him what was going on. But he’s gone to ground. Maybe he decided to go down to the Underground City, where Henri would catch him and bring him back.
The road back to the fields of hops and poppies was short. If it hadn’t been for the bloody trail dragging along it, it would have been a pleasant walk. I noticed the chain of blood. Not too bright, almost a woody hue, it looked more like the blood of a dryad than anything else. I looked around for the injured party, but only spotted a stunted mushroom fairy, looking more like a little girl wearing a huge mushroom-shaped hat on her head. To my surprise, she was crying. Usually these creatures are very cheerful, especially when there’s an opportunity for mischief.
“Why are you doing this, Monsignor?” She sobbed. “Why did you have to burn our clearing, aren’t there enough mortal kingdoms?”
“What do you mean?” I looked at her carefully, but she carefully hid her crying mushroom-colored eyes from me. “I haven’t burned anything in years,” and it was true, I was careful to keep the flames inside me, even though it was hard at times. The fire was like a rabid monster, and it took a lot of self-concentration and a lot of unauthorized charms to fight it. “Besides, it’s against my rules to start fires in my own Empire.”
“Is it really?” She looked at me questioningly. It was clear she didn’t believe a word I said. Strange, because usually no one doubted the truth of my words, let alone my orders.
“Go to some party, take some comfort. Tears are not good for you,” I said, and with a bit of enchantment I pulled out a shining flower from the void, covered with gems instead of dewdrops. A generous gift, but I liked the mushroom fairy’s pretty face, so I decided to please her. For a moment she hesitated to accept it from my hands, obviously expecting a trick. It’s a gift from the dragon. Now I’m giving her a beautiful thing, and in a second I’ll turn, grab her in my claws and take her to some black tract for reprisal. The pretty girl pondered, shuffling from foot to foot, and then quickly snatched the flower from my hands, curtsied, and was gone. Was the girl afraid of me? Not so long ago, absolutely everyone liked me. My handsome face and the power of a dragon hidden behind it had attracted a lot of people, not to mention my treasures. And now something subtly changed. I was becoming feared. I felt it most sharply when I went out into the field, where the leprechauns were rummaging in the grass. Most of them were working diligently, plucking straw, tying it into small sheaves and carrying it underground, probably to spin gold from it. They knew how to do that. Others just did round dances to make the crops sing better. Such were their charms and amusements. Usually they didn’t get distracted unless they saw someone nearby who could be pinched to death for trespassing on their territory. Humans were rare in the Empire, and I was everywhere I went. Today, for the first time, when the tiny humans saw me, they stirred, jumped up in their seats, and scurried underground as quickly as if they’d never been here. They even forgot to take off their hats and bow, which was their usual etiquette. Well, I forgave them. I didn’t want to shoot them for such a small thing.
Things were more complicated with the dryad, who was sobbing in a neighboring field. I found her by the bloody trail. A girl with skin partially turned into bark sat on the pressed poppies and wept bitterly. With fists that looked like dry branches, she wiped away brown tears. Her green dress, made of leaves, was visibly scorched. And there was almost nothing left of her legs, which went from her knees to the trunk of the tree as per the rules. As well as from the very tree she lived in. Quite tragic, as the tree was not just a home to her, but a part of herself. What if she couldn’t live without it anymore?
“It was the dragon!” She wailed. “The dragon swooped down and burned down my place. And all the trees around it burned too.”
Unlike the others, she wasn’t frightened when she saw me. She probably hadn’t been out of her tree for thousands of years, and she hadn’t even heard of who I was. Even gossip doesn’t reach hibernating creatures.
I tried to help her up. She seemed to be crawling here, not walking. As I touched her, fresh roots began to grow out of the scorched stumps that could easily replace her legs. In a couple minutes she could walk on them, leaning lightly on my shoulder. Under the long dress, it still couldn’t be seen that she had live tree roots instead of legs.
“Thank