Dragon Chapter 16: Expectations (Patreon)

“Vulcan is always right.”

“If Vulcan is wrong, refer to the first rule.”

….

Fear itself had no weight.

But it could bend your spine, seep into your flesh, and take root there.

Sakota knew that feeling.

Every time he came here, he experienced it all over again.

It was even as fresh as the first time—just as sharp, just as capable of making one want to curl up into a ball.

His two attendants had long since stopped trembling.

They lay limp on the ground like two shells whose souls had been emptied out. Sakota knew they were not dead, but perhaps they could no longer truly be called alive either.

Their bodies were merely still insisting on carrying out their functions. The souls inside had long since fled to some safer place.

Sometimes, Sakota envied them. Envied that they did not have to endure this pain.

But he could not. He had to wait. He had to answer when that voice sounded.

His dragon lord.

His king.

Those golden eyes slowly blinked once. A translucent nictitating membrane slid across the pupils and withdrew again, like clouds passing over the sun.

A dry terror rose from deep within Sakota’s throat.

No matter how long he had served as the other’s governor, this was unavoidable.

When you were being watched by some predator that stood at the very top of the food chain, every sentient creature would feel that most primal emotion.

“How long has it been since then?”

The passage of time, in the perception of dragons, was vague and slow.

“It has been five years, Your Majesty.”

Five years.

To humans, that was nearly one-sixteenth of their lives—enough time for an infant to learn to walk, speak, read, and even begin forming its first understanding of the world.

“Is that so?”

He paused.

They were still alive.

“Heh.”

Sakota did not know how to describe that sound.

It was like an extremely faint shift of airflow escaping from deep in the throat, like a string being plucked ever so lightly before falling silent again.

If his ears had not happened to catch that tiny ripple, he would have thought it was only his imagination.

A chill crawled up Sakota’s spine.

That sound—if it could truly be called laughter—was more terrifying than any fear he had ever experienced.

He had served at Vulcan’s side for thirty-seven years.

In thirty-seven years, he had never once heard that dragon laugh. He had never even imagined that the other could laugh.

“Interesting.”

They really had survived.

But what came after that?

How long could such a fragile relationship of theirs possibly last?