The Red Dragon Just Wants To Do As It Pleases

Just as David charged toward his favored battlefield like a Ju87 Stuka dive bomber through the clouds, a unique 'tug-of-war' was unfolding on the West Coast within Saeolus's domain.

Or rather than calling it a tug-of-war, it might be more apt to describe it as a three-way standoff.

For the 'three sides' involved had no real intention of fighting each other:

The Barbarians, on their first visit to the New Continent, were busy looting, hoping to make a quick fortune before the Elves' main forces arrived.

The White Dragon patrolling the sky also feared the two Whaling Crossbows on the stranded ship; as long as it received its share, there was no need to fight the Elves to the death.

As for the group of High Elves led by Yevgeny, they indeed wanted to kill some Barbarians to earn military merit.

But that pesky White Dragon kept harassing them.

The whole scene devolved into the least warlike and most shambolic invasion in history.

Ever since the Elves led by Hiatt intervened, the three parties had been in a stalemate for over an hour, yet hardly anyone had died.

If David saw this, he would likely erupt in anger at the Elves' cowardice and mock the Barbarians for their lack of valor.

"Zenasaneya! With that White Dragon in the way, we simply can't get close to those Barbarians. Weren't White Dragons supposed to be as dumb as beasts? This one seems pretty cunning to me!" Alianna, a Drow of mixed heritage, withdrew in disarray, complaining to Hiatt, who, as the 'commander's personal guard,' was the one truly in charge.

Ever since hearing their Dragon Lord was en route, this newly pledged Drow from the Gloomy Region had been fired up, eager to lead the High Elf cannon fodder to an impressive victory. But that damned White Dragon kept circling above, continuously conjuring bone-chilling gusts with its wings and its spell-like Wind Creation Spell. Coupled with occasional interference from its Fog Spell and the sly, deadly ice lances that shot out from the mist, the several offensives organized by Alianna for the spirited High Elf troops were repeatedly thwarted, forcing them to adopt a more laid-back approach.

They had no choice. Although they desperately needed military merit to prove their worth after barely escaping the desolate and impoverished Old Continent, having survived there for three long years, the thought of dying right at their homeland's doorstep, just as they had finally returned to the Elven lands, was unbearable. It was downright frustrating! Was it worth it?!

After all, their newly elected interim commander, Yevgeny, had said, "Just hold off those Barbarians. As long as they persevere until the arrival of the Navy or the Defense Corps, they will be heroes!"

And that was actually Hiatt's intention. The Drow, who had seemed flustered when 'on the phone' with David, now stood calmly at a rocky hideout, hands on her hips. Noticing no other Elves were around, she spoke assuredly to the frustrated Alianna, "It is an adult White Dragon, after all. Even if it developed slowly in those frigid lands, its brain should be fully formed. And you've got to allow for some exceptions, right?

"Look at Mofei in our camp; he's quite intelligent. My brother always praises him to me; he's even planning to make Mofei his godson."

...Huh? Alianna was momentarily speechless. All she knew was that Mofei was a male Drow. If it had been any other Drow, she'd be racking her brains wondering if such a relationship was even proper.

Then she heard Hiatt exclaim in surprise, "Huh, wait, why does that White Dragon have a scar on its rear? I was wondering why it seemed familiar. It couldn't be the one whose Dragon Nest I plundered years ago, could it?

"Zenasaneya, it's actually quite possible. Stand further away from me. It'd be troublesome if she recognized me."

... Alianna was utterly floored. Seriously, bumping into an old acquaintance, and a Dragon at that? And weren't you just stealing Dragon Eggs? How on earth did you manage to leave a mark on the mother Dragon's rear? And just how many Dragon Nests had Hiatt plundered over the years?

Indeed, given a White Dragon's typical intelligence, its reaction to suddenly encountering the thief who stole its offspring was something few ordinary people could predict.

While Alianna was still reeling from the Drow leader Hiatt's revelation, the Barbarians who had occupied the Temple of the God of Wild Elves and Woodlands were arguing over the cowering priests in the corner, having nearly emptied the Temple of its treasures.

When King Gilal heard his foolish chiefs arguing about whether to capture the Elven priests and take them back to the Old Continent, he was enraged. He growled at these chiefs, who lacked basic common sense, "This is a Temple! The Temple of the God of the Woodlands! Why would you take those priests back to the Old Continent? Are you trying to incur a divine curse?"

He had been hesitant and even resistant to looting the Temple in the first place. But they had landed in such a remote and impoverished area, with only one nearby village offering scant valuables. The Elves were much more agile. As soon as the Barbarians landed, word spread, and the Elves all fled, leaving no captives to be taken. So the Barbarians, practically driven mad by Greed, had set their sights on the Temple atop the mountain. However, after praying to the War God and receiving no answer, they assumed divine acquiescence to their looting of the Temple.

And the Temple was indeed loaded with wealth! Piles of gold and silver jewelry, even Magical Items, simply dazzled the Barbarians' eyes.

Once the desire in their hearts was ignited, it became uncontrollable. A chieftain with bloodshot eyes licked his lips and said, "I've also prayed to my god just now, and my god did not forbid taking them back as slaves."

Bringing a beautiful High Elf slave back to the Old Continent could likely be traded to other tribes for a dozen strong slaves or an entire pen of cattle and sheep. As for male Elves? Their price might be even higher!

... King Giral felt a sudden urge to kill someone.

What puzzled him just as much was why their blatant plundering of the Temple hadn't provoked any divine wrath or curses. Could their War God have become so powerful that even an Elven god dared not intervene? That shouldn't be the case! As far as he knew, the Elven pantheon also had a powerful chief deity—Corellon.

King Giral, despite being a relatively intelligent Barbarian, was limited by his knowledge and perspective, and thus unable to fully comprehend the situation.

Just as he was considering how to use his limited authority—and the potential threat of approaching danger—to compel his greedy fellows to exercise some restraint and begin moving the loot, he suddenly heard a distinct, whining buzz.

As the greedy Barbarians exchanged confused glances, the voice of the female White Dragon sounded from outside the Temple, "Giral, it seems a nosy Dragon has arrived, a young Silver Dragon at that.

"I think you should consider retreating. After all, I can't kill him outright.

"And if the young one is here, the old one can't be far behind. This is the last time I'll help you on this trip.

"Remember to prepare my share. I want it by the time we set sail for our return."

Grateful for the excuse, Giral immediately ordered, "Pack up, retreat immediately! The loot from this raid is enough for us to spend a comfortable winter."

With Giral in the lead, a band of Barbarians, laden with treasure, streamed out of the Temple and hurried towards the coast. Yet, they had barely emerged when a barrage of arrows from the hundred or so 'Elven navy' members rained down on them.

"Shields up!" Giral barked.

But the volley was so dense that even with shields raised, many were hit. They groaned in pain but continued trudging forward like thick-skinned bears; only a few unlucky ones, struck in vital spots, fell. The Barbarians following behind would quickly check the wounded. Those who could be saved were carried, while the fatally injured were swiftly put out of their misery on the spot, their valuables collected. In this way, they also sent their fallen comrades 'ascending to the Divine Realm'.

However, they hadn't gotten far when the persistent, low-altitude buzzing whine grew louder and louder, making them wonder why the Elves' arrow storm had suddenly ceased. King Giral turned his head, only to see the High Elves fleeing the coast even faster than a charge.

... A sudden, ominous feeling gripped King Giral's heart.

Just as some Barbarians were still mocking these Elves for being as timid as mice, they heard the White Dragon, flying in mid-air, curse as if to herself, "Damn it, this Silver Dragon's speed is unnatural! How can it be so fast? Isn't it afraid of crashing to its death?"

In front of her, a dense mist quickly gathered, condensing into fist-sized 'hailstones' that she hurled at the diving 'Silver Dragon,' attempting to drive away this 'overly righteous' young Silver Dragon.

High in the sky, David watched the White Dragon's icy fragments scatter like shrapnel from a Claymore mine.

The White Dragon is wary because I look like a young Silver Dragon, David realized instantly. If I'd shown up with red scales, I bet she'd be using those more dangerous ice lances instead of hailstones.

But excitement gleamed in his eyes, devoid of the caution he had shown when facing the young Silver Dragon, Shalaina.

Sure, that's an adult Dragon, but it's a White Dragon! A White Dragon? What's there to fear about a White Dragon?! Is that all?