The Ballad Of A Semi-Benevolent Dragon - Chapter 34: The Princess and the King

Chapter 34: The Princess and the King

Harald gazed down at the sprawling fields full of thriving crops and felt a swell of emotion deep in his chest. Dwarves were renowned for their riches, for the wealth they drew up out of the earth. Gold, silver, jewels, and countless other rare and exotic materials were piled high in the great treasuries of the dwarves.

And yet so much of their wealth was spent on food. For dwarves were not elves. Though rock and stone had ever bent to their will, the same could not be said of crops. Hands that could craft the most wondrous jewellery or the mightiest weapons seemed unable to draw life out of the earth.

Some of it was simply the nature of their domain. Dwarves did best in deep caves or within soaring mountains. Such places were not kind to crops. Either the tearing winds and bitter cold killed them before they could grow, or the torch-lit interiors and cold gleam of magical lighting had them wither far from the warm light of the sun.

To be sure, the dwarves had occasionally cut terraces into the mountainside and then set up pillars to hold magic that would warm the air and block the wind. Yet those terraces rarely lasted long. The cold was unrelenting and the wind seemed to blow fiercer, as if insulted by their attempts to conquer it. Worse, monsters would be drawn to the terraces, vile beasts who knew the dwarves would come to defend them. Without the mountain to shield them, such dwarves were often easy prey.

Those few dwarves who had magic that could help them grow crops were honoured and prized above almost all others, gifted with high station and their choice of spouse, all in a bid to increase their numbers. Yet even in his brother’s kingdom, there were less than half a dozen such dwarves. Such magic often skipped generations or simply faded, never to appear again. Attempts to recruit outsiders had failed, either due to the extortionist demands they made or, more commonly, the inability of others to live as the dwarves did in halls of stone within the mountains or beneath the earth.

And so his people, the stalwart lords beneath the earth and within the mountains, would have to trade their treasures for what others took for granted. He had seen the fields where humans, elves, and others grew their crops. As a young dwarf, he had marvelled at the heads of grain, heavy with golden wheat. He could still remember the first time he had seen an apple tree. The old human who had owned it had been so struck by his awe that he had plucked an apple from it and given it to Harald.

He, a dwarf prince, had been moved almost to tears by such a simple thing. For the apples he had eaten had never been so fresh or given so freely. Instead, they were carefully preserved to survive the long journey from the fields to the Sky Claw Mountains, and each apple was expensive, a rare treat for any normal dwarf, and not something that even a prince could enjoy every day.

Their famed dwarven liquors were so expensive because the dwarves themselves paid hefty sums for the grain needed to make them, and there was always a balance to be struck. Any food that was used to make liquor was not being eaten, and in lean years, that was simply not an indulgence they could afford.

Harald could still taste that apple sometimes. Yet the taste turned bitter when he thought of the lean years, when those they bought their food from raised their prices or lowered supply. The dwarves would grumble and sometimes posture as if for war, but everyone knew what would happen. In the end, the dwarves would pay, and why not? The treasures of the earth were theirs for the taking. Yet in the lean years, when food had to be rationed, Harald sometimes wondered if the truest treasures were not the treasures of the earth but those of the field. For what good was gold if his stomach was empty and his people starving?

One of Harald’s keenest memories was of his brother raging when he had received a missive from the humans they bought much of their food from. War had broken out amongst them, and some fool had gotten it into his head to burn the fields to deny them to the enemy.

Burn the fields?

Unthinkable. No dwarf would dare, and any who did would be cut down by their fellows for their madness. But to the humans, whose fields often swelled with produce, it was seemingly an easy decision to make. And yet, those burnt crops meant that the dwarves would have to pay even more for food, if they could even find enough food to buy.

Doomwing had promised Harald that his lands were rich, and he had upheld that promise. Yet he had also spoken of the bounty that his lands could grow, and Harald had not been sure what to think. When they had passed this way before, there had been some crops but also clear signs of battle. Yet now those same fields were burgeoning with produce of every kind.

There were vast fields of grains and vegetables, along with orchards of fruits. How could this have happened so quickly? And then Harald remembered the dryad. This must be her doing. He had never really spoken to one before. If the stories were true, they had little love of dwarves and much preferred the company of elves. Yet Doomwing had a dryad in his service, and unless Harald missed his guess, her tree had nearly doubled in size!

“I promised you that your people would be able to eat their fill,” Corundum said. The doppelganger was beside him. Doomwing himself had headed east to examine the other villages and to deal with a few small matters.

“Aye,” Harald said. “You did. But what price shall we have to pay for this?”

“You speak as if you and these people are not both sworn to me,” Corundum replied. “I know well the troubles of the dwarves in this matter. It has been like that since the First Age. But you need never fear that your people will be exploited or overcharged or forgotten. Man or dwarf, all that matters is that you are sworn to me.”

Harald nodded slowly. “When we go down there,” he murmured. “Can I visit the fields?”

“By all means. All I ask is that you and your dwarves help these people as they will help you. They are skilled farmers, and there are those amongst them who can hunt or craft, but none can match the skills of your people. They need better houses, better facilities, and better roads.”

“We will do these things for them,” Harald said. “If they share the fruits of their own labours with us.”

“And they will.” Corundum gazed over the fields of produce. “Dragons were made so that they could live alone on whatever they could seize with their teeth and claws and flame. But dwarves and men are not dragons. You are stronger together than you are apart. The weakness of one may be the strength of the other, and so prosperity is most easily achieved when all strive together.” The doppelganger’s lips curled. “And even dragons, those who the First Gods made with the strength to stand alone, still seek company from time to time.”

Harald was tempted to go straight to the fields, and he knew his fellow dwarves felt much the same. In the same way that a typical human would be drawn to the shimmering gemstones and metals that dwarves pulled up from the earth that they had never laid eyes on before, so too were dwarves drawn to the fields that they themselves could never grow. But first, Harald had to meet the princess. They had not really spoken before, and if she would be accompanying them to the tournament, it would be rude not to seek her out first.

He had expected typical human nobility. That was not what he got.

Instead, the princess walked forth, somehow fiercer than any of the wolves at her side, despite each of them being larger than any of the dwarves. Her hair was black, and her eyes were deep violet. By any standard she might be called beautiful, but it was her bearing that drew the eye and held it.

The princess wore no finery. Instead, all she wore was a simple tunic and trousers, both stained with mud. More of that mud clung to her face and dripped from her hair, but not a single person would have dared to make light of it. The princess moved with almost inhuman ease, smooth and light on her feet, making not a single sound as she stalked toward them with predatory grace.

It reminded Harald of the time he had confronted one of the great, long-toothed tigers who dwelt in the mountains. He had been a young dwarf then, out on only his second real hunt. He had stumbled upon the beast by accident, and it had stared at him, teeth stained red by the blood of a fresh kill that lay torn open on the slope before it. For a long, long moment, Harald had been afraid even to breathe, for the tiger was huge, perhaps three times the size of the lions that lived in the savannah beyond the mountains. With the tiger so close and his companions so far what an overeager, young fool he’d been to rush ahead the tiger would need only a split-second to close the gap, and he knew as well as any dwarf what its teeth would do to even sturdy dwarven armour.

But the tiger had simply stared at him and then turned away, returning to its meal. It had not seen him as a threat and had been more concerned with filling its belly. Harald had retreated and warned his fellows of the danger. They had wisely steered clear of the area, and they had all been wary that day, the tension only leaving them when they were safely within the mountain again and away from the swirling snows and looming crags that could so easily conceal a white-pelted, feline shadow with teeth like daggers and claws like knives.

The princess reminded him of that tiger as she prowled toward him and his fellows. There was no hostility in her gaze, no outward sign of aggression, yet every instinct he had honed in his long life screamed at him to be careful, that if she wanted, she could fight him and all his companions and win. Her violet gaze seemed almost puzzled by his reaction, as if she could not understand why he would be wary of her.

Did she truly not know her own strength? What sort of hellish training and terrible foes had she fought to not realise the danger she radiated? Her eyes sparkled with something perhaps amusement and a smile crossed her lips. It took him a moment to realise why it unsettled him so much. It reminded him of Doomwing, and the way the dragon would sometimes smile when he was trying to make himself seem harmless a foolish pursuit for one so mighty as he.

“Welcome,” the princess aid. “King Harald. It is an honour to meet you. I am Princess Antaria.”

“The honour is mine,” Harald replied. He gazed past her at the wolves who trailed in her wake. “I can see you’ve brought an escort.”

The princess sighed. “I apologise for greeting you in such a state. One of these little ones thought it would be amusing to leap into a puddle of mud that was beside me.” Her eyes narrowed at the wolf in question. “Rest assured, he has been disciplined.”

“Little ones?” Harald asked.

“Ah, right. These are wolf pups.” Antaria pointed behind her. “There mother is back there. She’s a lot bigger.”

“” Harald blinked. “How big?”

“Maybe the size of a house? It’s hard to be sure. I’ve gotten used to her.” A wolf apparently a pup leapt at her, and Antaria sighed again and let it clamber onto her back. “Don’t let their appearance fool you. They’re a lazy bunch. They’d have me carry them everywhere if they thought they could get away with it.”

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“Is that so?” Harald was not oblivious to the ease with which Antaria carried the wolf upon her shoulders, or the nonchalant manner she eased it off her back and shooed it away. When the pup had leapt onto her, it had done so with enough force to crumple armour. Yet she had barely even noticed.

“A lot of the monsters are like that. You just have to let them know who’s boss, and they’ll fall into line.” She tilted her head. “By the way who is that?”

“I am Corundum,” the doppelganger said. “And I will be taking over for the construct that Doomwing left with you. Due to the way I was made, I will be able to accomplish substantially more.”

“Oh.” Antaria stared at the dragon construct beside her. “Do you think you could wait until after the tournament? I know this guy here is just an extension of Doomwing’s will, but he has been the one teaching me. It would be a shame if he didn’t get to see the tournament.”

Corundum considered the matter briefly. “Very well. I will remain here while the construct goes with you to the tournament. However, once the tournament is over, I will assume his duties.”

“What will happen to him?” Antaria asked.

“He will simply collapse into dust,” Corundum explained. “He is a puppet, nothing more, a direct extension of Doomwing’s will. I am a special doppelganger and am thus capable of much greater independent action without burdening Doomwing unnecessarily.” He bared his teeth. “I possess Doomwing’s memories, so you need not concern yourself with any lapse in training standards.”

Antaria grinned back. “I was almost afraid you’d start taking it easy on me.” She glanced back at Harald. “So would you like to meet Daphne? I’ve noticed you staring at the fields this whole time, and she’s done a lot of the work to make them this good.”

“Yes,” Harald said. “I would like that.”

Antaria kept one eye on Harald as the king and his fellow dwarves walked through the fields. There was something kind of funny about watching a bunch of dwarves who could have bought the fields dozens of times over marvelling at something as simple as wheat, but her mirth had faded when Corundum had explained it to her.

“It is nice to see someone appreciate what I do,” Daphne said. The dwarves had lavished praise on her, perhaps taken aback by how friendly she was toward them.

“Hey, I show plenty of appreciation,” Antaria said. “I give thanks before and after every meal, you know.”

“You do,” Daphne said. “But you don’t look at me the way they do.”

Antaria giggled. “That’s because they grow plenty of crops back in my kingdom. Yes, we often have to import, but the dwarves, from what Corundum said, barely grow anything at all.” She paused. “I think a few of them actually cried when you offered them some fruit from your tree.”

Some of the animals had not been happy about that, but Daphne had insisted.

“If they’re going to be working with us from now on as part of Doomwing’s empire, then we need to make them welcome,” Daphne said.

“Indeed.” Corundum nodded. “Fruit from a dryad’s tree is considered an offering of friendship. The dwarves will remember it long after this day, and they will think fondly of you for it.” He turned his attention back to Antaria. “I hope you understand what I expect from you at the tournament.”

“Basically, shock and awe, right? If we’re going to recruit people, I need to make it absolutely clear that joining you is a good idea. And what better way than beating the crap out of everyone else, right?”

“You know,” Daphne said. “I don’t think you were quite this vicious when we first met. I do think Doomwing is rubbing off on you.”

Antaria shrugged. “The way I see it, my father might not have been such an awful ruler if someone had beat the crap out of him earlier. Besides, I’ve been training until I collapse practically every day. It’ll be nice to finally have a chance to see how I stack up to other people.”

Daphne sighed. “You really don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?” The dryad shared a glance with the doppelganger, and Antaria huffed. “Anyway, the tournament isn’t supposed to involve killing people, so I’ll have to be careful.”

“Yes. I imagine that using your full strength against most of your opponents would be unwise. However, your uncle has informed me of several troublesome individuals who are entering the tournament.”

“Oh?” Antaria smiled as Filch, the shadow walking and tree walking raccoon, climbed up onto her head. However, her smile faded as he decided to start munching on some nuts. “Hey, no eating on my head.” She lifted him off her head and cradled him in her arms. “You’re going to get crumbs in my hair.” The raccoon snickered and sank into her shadow before reappearing back on her head. “Now, you’re just being obnoxious.”

“Your uncle announced your entry in the tournament at my behest. We both believe those troublesome individuals will attempt to assassinate you.”

“Oh.” That might have bothered her once. It didn’t anymore. “So, I can just massacre them, right?”

“Yes. Crush them so utterly that none ever think of trying again.” Corundum’s eyes blazed. “Dealing with them will not only remove enemies of yours but also make your uncle’s position as ruler more secure. If nothing else, his enemies will be much more enamoured with keeping him on the throne lest you take over and start murdering them all.”

“We could just murder them all anyway, couldn’t we?” Antaria asked. “Although I suppose that is a bit bloodthirsty. But you did warn them back when you put my uncle in charge.”

“It is better to let them scheme for a while. We shall allow them to ensnare the foolish and disloyal in their treachery and then we will destroy them, tear them out root and branch. That will be easier and more efficient than running a purge every few years.”

“You two are pretty scary sometimes,” Daphne drawled. “But I can see where you’re coming from. Anyway, you should probably give Antaria the things.”

“The things?” Antaria’s eyes gleamed. “Wait am I finally getting proper equipment?”

“It would make for a poor impression if you went as you are. Harald did not care, for he is a warrior. Appearances mean little to him, only ability. But others are not so wise. You will need to impress them with more than just your abilities.”

“Please, tell me that I can get a magical sword that can cut through the clouds or something like that. What about magical armour that can absorb magic to make me stronger? Or how about boots that let me fly?” Antaria paused. “Wait do those even exist?”

“They do indeed exist.” Corundum chuckled. “The first High King of the elves possessed a blade named Cloud Splitter. In his hands, it could slice apart the clouds from the ground. As for the armour, the first High King of the dwarves possessed something of that nature although it, of course, had limits as to the amount and type of magic it could absorb. As for the boots, there are charms that can be made that would allow it. However, you will not be receiving anything like that. Those who rely on overly powerful equipment tend to stagnate or even regress. They use their equipment as a crutch instead of honing their own abilities. Conversely, those with poor equipment will often find it getting in their way and may even be better off without it. What is best, especially for someone like you who is still growing in power and skill, is equipment that is not so weak that it hinders you but also not so strong that it does too much of the work for you.”

Antaria made a face. “So no magical stuff with awesome powers?”

“No.” Corundum gestured. “But consider yourself fortunate. I will craft much of it for you myself.”

“When?”

“Right now. For equipment of this level, I am more than enough.”

Light gathered before Corundum, and Antaria had to take a step back as magic beyond her comprehension took effect. When the light cleared, several garments where there. They were simple in design, mostly tunics and trousers, but their quality was unmistakable. The cloth was a rich green trimmed here and there with gold.

“Elerion was a farmer’s son,” Corundum explained. “And so he took green and gold as his colours the colours of healthy leaves and ripe wheat. His children took colours of their own, but given how your stubbornness and occasional bouts of stupidity remind me of him, I think it fitting that you should take them for your own as well.”

“What does the cloth do?” Antaria asked. She resisted the urge to touch the clothes since her hands were covered in a thin layer of dust from her most recent training.

“The cloth is based on the silk produced by the spider people that can be found in certain places. As such it is resistant to cutting and piercing. Unlike their silk however, it is also resistant to fire. More importantly, it is designed to channel magic. You will find that it is however strong you can make it.”

“Wait” Antaria’s eyes gleamed. “Are you telling me that if I use a basic or lesser rune of durability on those clothes, they’ll be able to handle it.”

“Precisely. I have no desire to make your victory inevitable by simply showering your clothing in powerful magic. Instead, it is your magic that will determine how strong this clothing is. Consider it further training since you should be able to keep up a basic rune of durability almost indefinitely at this point. But even without that enhancement, it will be difficult for any normal weapon to damage it or for lesser magic to pose much of a threat. However, if I see you relying on those innate properties too heavily”

“I get it. I get it. Harsher training, another pit of monsters, all that sort of stuff.”

“Daphne,” Corundum said. “Give her what we discussed.”

“Oh?” Antaria grinned. “You’re giving me something too?”

The dryad nodded and then handed her a wooden sword. “Here.”

“Oh.” Antaria blinked. “A wooden sword? That’s great. I can just enhance it and wait.” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as her magical senses got a better grasp of the sword. “This isn’t a normal piece of wood, is it?”

“No. It’s made from one of my branches,” Daphne said. “And before you worry, it’s not like I hacked off a branch or anything. I can have a branch fall off whenever I want.”

“Dryad wood has special properties. That wooden sword is much like the clothes unspectacular unless you make it so. It will be able to channel and hold far more magic than any normal metal or wood before breaking, so it will be as durable and sharp as you can make it.”

“Awesome.” Antaria could already picture the havoc she could wreak. Sure, it would be nice having some kind of invincible weapon, but she could understand the lesson Doomwing was trying to teach her. By giving her armour and weapons that were only as strong as she was, he was pushing her to use what she’d learned rather than rely on what she’d been given. Besides, it was better this way. If she was going to beat people, she’d rather she do it with her own strength and not borrowed power. “We’re leaving tomorrow, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, let’s invite the dwarves to share a meal with the villagers. We’ll be working together a lot from now on, so we might as well get to know each other now.”