Night was settling in. Ethea and Ghomer had already dipped below the horizon, leaving the western sky ablaze in fiery reds and deep oranges. From the east, a shroud of darkness crept over the forest, the first stars beginning to pierce through the twilight veil.


    All around us, a chorus of cicada-like insects filled the air with their ceaseless mating calls, their rhythmic buzz creating a wall of sound that nearly drowned out the clatter of dishes and conversations drifting from inside the inn.


    A few campfires flickered, casting a shifting interplay of light and shadow over the gathering.


    I still sat at the table, with Ju and John, discussing our next move, while the peasants huddled nearby, whispering among themselves and casting wary glances in our direction.


    Some of them had probably already slipped away, unwilling to risk waiting around for whatever came next.


    That was fine by me. It might seem selfish—or even outright Machiavellian—to let them go, but fewer peasants in the domain meant fewer mouths to feed during the long winter ahead.


    I hoped to offset the loss of manpower with more magic and increased mechanization—I knew it should be possible. I was determined to prevent anyone from starving. But if they chose to take their chances elsewhere, why should I stop them?


    Why should I waste my energy convincing an idiot that I actually had their best interests in mind?


    Frankly, I subscribed to the Smithsonian view of economics—where more humans equal more resources, thanks to their ingenuity and innovation. That stood in direct contrast to Malthusian theory, which argued that population growth only led to scarcity and depletion.


    Sure, that was a theory from another world, but I hoped it held true here as well.


    And if it didn’t?


    If I failed?


    Then at least they had the freedom to choose their own fate.


    I wasn’t about to force it on them.


    A small burner in the corner of the table released a steady stream of incense, meant to ward off biting insects. Not that I needed it—my own mana was far more effective. I extended its protection to the others, letting the magic form an invisible barrier around us.


    Nearby, my eleven slaves sat in their canvas-covered wagon, settling in for the night.


    I had fed them, but afterward, I had to put them back in chains—a decision that left a bitter taste in my mouth. I didn''t want to watch over them constantly, but I also couldn''t let them run free.


    The thought unsettled me but What else could I do?


    I hoped to find a solution soon, but I wasn’t there yet.


    For now, I was already paying a couple of locals to guard them.


    Was I really much better than that merchant, Tcherour?


    I tried to shake off the thought and took another sip of my drink, refocusing on John’s voice.


    But no matter how I tried, I couldn''t fully concentrate on their conversation.


    I heard the cavalcade before I saw them. Lifting my gaze toward the East road, I spotted a dust cloud rolling in through the darkness.


    A smile spread across my face. They made it before nightfall!


    As the riders drew closer, their shapes became clearer. At the front, Alice rode ahead, flanked by Moran, Loretta, and Tenessar.


    Behind them, Hordius led his Black Knights—about thirty riders in total.


    Hordius, the oldest of Drackar’s lieutenants, was better known as the "Scarred Orc"—and for good reason. He had more scars than all the other lieutenants combined.


    But he also had the best riding skills, making him the perfect leader for a mounted company.


    I waved as they approached and Alice returned the gesture.


    At first glance, one wouldn’t even notice the orcs among the riders. Probably Alice arranged the formation that way—a smart move to avoid drawing panic or trouble along the route.


    As they got closer, I spotted that Xsoha girl, Hew’s apprentice, lagging at the rear of the formation. She looked exhausted.


    I chuckled to myself. She’ll definitely need some healing from Ju. Why did Alice even bother bringing her?


    Their arrival sent a ripple of unease and low murmurs through the humans around, especially once people spotted the orcs among them.


    But my peasants barely reacted. Well, I had already warned them that Alice and the orcs were coming and besides, they must have gotten used to them by now.


    We settled the orcs near the five wagons left behind by the dead merchant—in about the same spot where his former guards had camped.


    It was a huge relief to reunite with Alice—and to offload most, if not all, of my problems onto her capable shoulders.


    While we talked, the Xsoha girl—freshly healed—had already gotten to work. She had prepared and was now expediting papers for the peasants who wanted to continue their journey.


    These documents needed to follow a specific imperial format, so having someone experienced handle them was invaluable.


    Not every traveler had papers, of course. But for the poor and powerless, having something official in hand could mean the difference between being accepted or turned away.


    To my surprise, many peasants decided to return to the domain instead.


    It had started with just one couple asking for permission to go back. Now, more and more followed. I might be OK with them leaving but I won''t push them either. As I saw no reason to refuse them, we accepted them. By the end, forty-nine peasants had gathered in the camp of the returners.


    With Alice competently handling the situation and our presence no longer necessary, we bid her and the group farewell before setting off.


    John stayed behind, happy to be allowed to join Alice''s group. As he wanted to train in the dungeon on my domain, traveling with her group was the best way to get there.


    By the time Ju and I took the west road, it was already late into the night. Pebbles grated softly beneath our boots, the rhythmic grinding nearly the only sound in the vast stillness. Now and then, a strange, muffled call cut through the silence, distant and unplaceable. Behind us, campfires flickered, their glow casting restless shadows against the trees. Above us, the sky stretched black and endless, speckled with cold, shimmering stars.


    Behind us, Kargath, the red moon—nearly full—shone high, its blood-tinted glow staining the gray forest with an eerie crimson aura.


    Ahead, Frigg, the blue moon, hung low and waning, a thin sickle of cold light—too weak to balance the crimson haze swallowing the night.


    The atmosphere seemed to have wooed Ju, as she hesitated before asking,


    “Should we wait until morning? Does it even make sense to go now? Will you be able to find your way in the dark?”


    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    “Hmm...” I shrugged. “I was hoping you could help me navigate by the stars. Besides, I can see quite well at night—as a dragon.”


    She turned to me, her eyes wide with surprise.


    “Help you navigate? I know the stars, sure—but I’ve never actually used them for navigation.”


    “Oh, well, you at least know which way north is, don’t you?” I said. “We just need to fly generally northwest.”


    She snorted. “And if we get lost, we just land and ask for directions? That’ll work perfectly! Most likely, we’ll get shot!”


    I chuckled, imagining the scene.


    Shotguns and the like were pretty popular with lonely farmers. While useless against high-level magic users and beasts, they tore through low-level thieves and wandering monsters with brutal efficiency.


    One of the great disadvantages of gunpowder, aside from being useless against powerful characters, was that wizards could make it explode from a distance.


    Because of that, anyone using firearms had to keep their shotguns and ammunition stored in a spatial inventory, only pulling them out at the exact moment they needed to fire.


    "Oh well, we can at least try. Otherwise, we’ll completely miss the party…" I protested.


    “Nah.” Ju shook her head. “You know the celebrations will last for days.”


    I hesitated. Was she joking, or was she serious?


    “Let’s see how far we get,” I said. “I’ve always wanted to fly by night.”


    I had no intention of missing the first day completely.


    After a while, I glanced around, judging that we had walked far enough.


    We were nearly a kilometer away from the relay station now.


    Beyond the firelight, the forest stretched darker, deeper, more alive. Then— A violent struggle erupted in the bushes nearby, the sounds of a furious fight tearing through the night. Some beast was being slaughtered, not far from us.


    Ju stepped closer, alarmed, but I only shrugged, certain that no beast would dare approach us.


    I began undressing, tucking my shoes and robe into my inventory.


    Seeing that, Ju hesitated before reluctantly stepping back. She waited, casting occasional, uneasy glances toward the now silent forest.


    A dark cloud enveloped me— and then— I towered over the narrow road.


    I exhaled sharply, vapors swirling as my heated breath hit the cold air.


    The world shifted, my new perspective vast and slightly disorienting. Below, bushes and trees groaned as my massive dragon feet crushed them beneath me.


    I lowered my belly to the ground, making it easier for Ju to climb up.


    Once seated, she retrieved the saddle from her inventory and started fastening it in place.


    She grumbled under her breath, clearly unhappy about fitting it in the dark, then conjured a small light, checked her work, and finally settled into the saddle.


    “Alright,” she said. “You may go!”


    “Hmm.” I hesitated.


    I had never taken off from flat ground before—only from heights.


    “Hold tight. This might be a bit rough.” I warned her.


    “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.” She shook her head, already impatient. Then, rising in the stirrups, she kicked her talons against my sides in a mock display.


    “Now, let’s go! Hyah, my trusted mount!”


    I snorted in disdain at her antics, then gave my back a sharp shake, rocking her from left to right. She yelped in surprise but held on.


    Satisfied that she was secure in the saddle, I turned my head forward and started to run.


    Running on all fours felt unnatural.


    Instincts kicked in, but I didn’t fully trust them. Instead, I interfered just enough to throw myself off balance, breaking my rhythm and making my run clumsy and inefficient.


    The trees and bushes in my way didn’t help either.


    I should be able to take off from flat ground!


    The thought that I had problems irritated me. The damn road was too narrow. Couldn''t they have cleared more of the forest?!


    The moment I unfurled my wings, they sliced through trees and tree branches, sending splintered wood spinning into the air. The impacts dragged me down, killing my momentum.


    Frustrated, I dug my claws into the ground, pushing harder, my legs hurling dirt and debris behind me— but every time I spread my wings, I got the same result.


    I focused on creating a gravitational pull to help me lift off—but all I got was the deep rumble of rolling boulders and tree trunks tumbling behind me.


    “Faster! Faster! Or we’re walking the whole way!” Ju yelled from atop my back, having way too much fun at my expense. “Hyah!”


    We’ll walk?! I was the one doing the walking! But yeah, she was right—I needed to run faster.


    I finally gave in and let my instincts take over. My pace exploded, muscles burning as I accelerated. I lifted my front half into the air, running only on my hind legs, pushing off with all my strength. Then— I spread my wings. With them rising above the canopy, I finally gained more lift.


    I still clipped a few treetops, the impacts sending branches and debris tumbling in an avalanche behind me— but I took off. Somehow I avoided crashing back down, slowly gaining speed and altitude.


    “Finally!” Ju called out. “That was a rough start. You should really practice that.”


    *


    Lieutenant Horvath rode unhappily, covering the twenty-kilometer trek back to the relay station.


    Behind him, twenty riders and two companies of foot soldiers marched at a forced pace, their boots hammering against the dirt road.


    He had barely made it back to his unit—just as he was about to collapse into sleep, the captain had sent him right back to the relay.


    Why him?


    There were three other lieutenants who could’ve handled this.


    But no—his captain was convinced he had not properly clarified the situation at the inn.


    And now, the report of an orc invasion at the relay station had to be investigated.


    Horvath knew better. It was almost certainly just Lady Lores’ orcs.


    There was an unspoken rule between noble houses—they allowed each other small detachments of troops within their territories. These forces helped keep the roads safe, secure transports, or relocate peasants when needed.


    But for whatever reason, the captain seemed determined to teach this troublesome baroness a lesson.


    Horvath’s orders were clear: arrest the orcs. And if these were her orcs, then make it costly for the baroness to get them back.


    They had begun the march before dawn, but now, the first hints of daylight were creeping in.


    A dense fog rose from the forest, thickening by the minute, reducing visibility to just a few meters.


    Then— His horse halted abruptly. A tree trunk lay across the road.


    At his command, the column came to a stop behind him.


    He sent a rider ahead to investigate but the wait dragged on longer than expected. He ordered the soldiers to form up—shields locked, weapons ready.


    By the time he was debating whether to send more riders, the scout finally returned.


    “What happened? Why did you take so long?” Horvath snapped, frustration clear in his voice.


    “Sir, the road is gone.”


    Horvath stiffened. “Gone?”


    “There’s a massive barricade further ahead—trees, rocks, the whole thing stacked high. I didn’t go closer. It smells like a trap.”


    Horvath nodded grimly, then he glanced around, frowning. They were far away from the border, this area should be secure. Had they missed a turn? Was this even the right road?


    He turned to look behind them—no, the road was clearly marked, just as it always had been.


    His stomach twisted at the realization that this was a trap! His head snapped around as he scanned the fog-covered trees.


    But there was only silence. No war cries. No arrows whistling through the mist. Nothing.


    Tense, he ordered the column to retreat, falling back to a more defensible position that they fortified.


    When still nothing happened, he sent scouts to investigate.


    By the time they returned, the fog had thinned considerably.


    “Sir, the road has been completely destroyed for the next mile,” came the report. “Several chariots are stuck on the relay’s side, unable to pass. People are worried… but the orcs are gone.”


    Reassured by the scouts’ findings, Horvath mounted his horse and rode forward to see for himself.


    When he reached the barricade, he stared in disbelief. It looked like a natural disaster had torn through the land. A massive tangle of trees and boulders choked the path, forming an impassable wall.


    Beyond it, gaping holes—some several meters deep—were dug at regular intervals, as if the very road had been carved apart.


    The once winding path was now littered with shattered trunks, many of which had been dragged together to form the final barricade where he stood.


    His unit and mages would need days, if not weeks, to clear this wreckage.


    And all of this had happened in just a few hours?


    His gaze swept over the deep holes, their depths unnerving.


    He shook his head.


    This would take weeks to fix.


    The mage who had done this was at least as powerful as the kingdom’s strongest mages.


    No—stronger.


    Horvath shook his head, forcing the thought away. Heresy.


    The king was supposed to be the most powerful mage in the land, yet he had never heard of the king doing anything like this.


    And all of it—all this destruction—was used for one purpose only: to delay him. To make sure he never reached the relay before the orcs were gone.


    He let out a slow breath.


    Honestly? He was glad.


    Better this happened now—when they weren’t there—than when he and his men were caught in the middle of it.


    A chuckle escaped him. He wondered what the captain would say.


    They had no proof that the baroness was behind this.


    And even if they did— What good would it do?