Tale of the Red Dragon Without Dragon’s Might
Chapter 230 - 229: Helping Relatives, Not Justice

Chapter 230: Chapter 229: Helping Relatives, Not Justice

The Green Dragon, the size of a small hill, lay on the observation platform by the volcano’s crater. Its wings drooped weakly, the once jade-like deep and lustrous scales now shattered and peeling. Numerous wounds, some scabbed over, others still bloody and raw...

Leon was momentarily startled and asked, "What happened here?"

Watching Cecilia slowly open her eyes, struggling to breathe, Leon could roughly guess what had happened to her. It had to be something involving the Elf City—either a clash from negotiation or another conflict entirely. Still, he asked, "Did those elves attack you?"

"Almost didn’t make it back," Cecilia whispered weakly.

Leon’s gaze scanned over the Green Dragon.

"Master, what are you looking at?" Cecilia asked.

"For a moment, you really had me fooled," Leon rubbed his forehead. "I mean, come on... you’re usually so cunning, running faster than anyone else when trouble comes your way. How could you get hurt this badly?"

Cecilia blinked and replied, "I don’t understand what you’re talking about, Master."

"Stop pretending. Danalan is such a massive Elf City—it’s bound to have quite a few powerful elves... If you were a mature Green Dragon, maybe. But you’re just a young Green Dragon. If they really wanted to kill you, you wouldn’t have made it back alive." Leon analyzed calmly.

"You have a lot of wounds, but none are in critical areas..." Leon continued, "Just superficial injuries. No damage to your bones or tendons. Even if I had come back a little later, you’d still recover quickly—not perfect right away, but a week or two of rest would suffice."

"I knew I couldn’t fool you, Master." Cecilia stood up.

The atmosphere softened.

"Even if they didn’t actually want to kill me... hurting me is still an undeniable fact." Dragons are universally sensitive to pain; while her wounds were only superficial, the pain was not diminished. Cecilia spoke resentfully, "I went there as your representative for negotiation. Attacking me is the same as attacking you, isn’t it?"

"Don’t rush. Tell me what happened," Leon reassured her. "I’ll make sure this is addressed properly."

"It happened roughly after you went to the Lost Plateau, Master... I ventured to Danalan alone..."

"I remembered your instructions carefully and made sure not to act recklessly..."

"But those stubborn High Elves wouldn’t listen to anything I said..."

Cecilia recounted the events in full. She explained how she followed Leon’s orders to go to Danalan to discuss a trade deal. Although the elves didn’t harshly rebuke her as an Evil Dragon, their rejection was polite but firm—refusal was refusal.

She didn’t hold back; after being rejected by the elves, she resorted to threats of force at one point. Unfortunately, her threats failed, and in her frustration, she launched an attack. However, she was swiftly counterattacked by the elves and, overwhelmed by the mismatch in strength, fled in defeat.

"I swear that everything I’ve told is the absolute truth, not a single detail hidden." Cecilia raised a claw as she spoke. "I’ll swear my loyalty to Tiamat if necessary."

"No need for that. I believe you," Leon said, looking at the Green Dragon as he nodded gently.

Green Dragons were infamous for their honeyed words concealing hidden blades, sowing discord, and using others as tools. But after years of interaction, Cecilia had proven relatively well-behaved. She had never tried tricks like games of partial truths or selective ambiguity—if she had, their partnership wouldn’t have lasted this long, given Leon’s deep disdain for deception.

"So, what now?" Cecilia asked.

"What do you think I should do?" Leon countered.

"I was the one who initiated the attack. It’s my fault. I failed in my task..." Cecilia lowered her head, her eyes brimming with tears, the very picture of guilt and self-condemnation. The cunning Green Dragon had perfectly tapped into Leon’s temperament—playing on his tendency to succumb to emotional displays, preferring softness over confrontation. Tears worked better than anything else.

Compared to Tassera, the rational Storage Dragon who thrived in research—with clear distinctions between right and wrong—Cecilia was far more sentimental, adept at wielding emotion like a blade. Green Dragon? Green tea. No one could fault her for it.

Even knowing this, Leon still found himself moved. "Stop pretending," he said. "I said I’d settle this for you. You’re my ally—I’ll help you regain face."

Forget notions of fairness and impartiality. Leon firmly rejected those ideas. A good leader played favorites and protected their own; otherwise, who’d want to stick with them?

Cecilia let out an impish laugh.

"I didn’t demand tribute—thousands of Gold Coins every month in protection fees, or one or two beautiful Elven maidens. I merely proposed trade! And yet, they dared to treat me like this." Leon huffed indignantly. "Since they refused the olive branch, let them taste the iron fist. There’s no need for mercy."

"Master, when do we act?" Cecilia was already impatient.

"How about now?" Leon glanced at the sky. Dusk was beginning to fall, but it wouldn’t pose any challenge to him. "First, tell me about Danalan... I know you’ve always coveted that Elf City—you must’ve collected plenty of intelligence."

"I do have a lot of intel, but most of it is word-of-mouth from merchants and adventurers, impossible to verify..." Cecilia sighed. "I’ve long tried corrupting one of Danalan’s elves, but haven’t succeeded."

Cecilia shared everything she knew before asking, "Master, if you plan to take on the elves, should I gather an army for you?"

"Forget your army—your Hobgoblin troops might overpower common folk easily, but storming an Elf City is pushing it." Leon preferred relying on himself—a one-man army, singlehandedly confronting challenges.

"Then let me accompany you, Master. I want revenge." Cecilia growled low, briefly flapped her wings, and struck the ground with her tail.

"I’m coming too," Salovis interjected unexpectedly, eager to join in.

"No need. The two of you stay on the Volcanic Island and guard my home. Keeping base secure is far more useful than joining me." Leon refused outright. "Danalan isn’t weak. I can guarantee my safety—but not yours. Don’t make me worry."

Cecilia nodded; she hadn’t intended to join and merely wanted to express her stance.

"You’re looking down on me, aren’t you?" Salovis didn’t take it lightly.

"What else?" Leon gave her a sidelong glance.

Tassera, the Mage, served invaluable purposes. Cecilia excelled as a strategist and steward. But this younger sister, Salovis, was barely useful—a mediocre fighter without sufficient strength. Leon often wondered what role she fulfilled, aside from occupying the "little sister" slot in the hierarchy.

Salovis noticed Leon glaring at her. Her mind flashed to the image of her brother overturning the nearly matured Red Dragon Grice. Even Caslak’s squad leader couldn’t last more than a few moves against him. She backed down immediately.

Seeing Salovis lowered her head, Leon chuckled and turned his attention away. "Prepare some food for me. I need energy for what’s to come."

Leon ate heartily, rested briefly, then departed without delay.

With utmost confidence, he made no effort to conceal his presence. His massive form soared away from the Volcanic Island, past Watchtower Port, heading deep into the eastern woods where the Elf City Danalan awaited.

Years had passed, and it seemed his reputation had faded somewhat. It was time to make his name resound once more.