Chapter 398: What It Means To Be Dragon?
(30 Minutes Later, The Same Hidden Retreat)
Roughly half an hour after Leo had revealed that he had already memorized the contents of the lost scroll, the two elders finally decided to excuse him, sending him on his way back to the Hangar Bay area, under the guise that his role here was done.
However, in truth, they simply needed some privacy to candidly talk about future strategy without the boy’s piercing eyes weighing on their words.
Hence, with Leo gone, the room, once tense with underlying political undertones, now settled into a soft stillness as the First Elder reached for a fresh pouch of tea leaves and began preparing a new batch with deliberate, steady hands.
"So, what do you think about the boy?" the Twelfth Elder asked, breaking the silence as he leaned back slightly, arms crossed, his tone casual, though there was a faint edge of concern beneath it.
The First Elder did not answer immediately. Instead, he stirred the pot gently, watching the swirling steam rise before finally speaking, his voice calm and reflective.
"I think the boy walks a fine line between passion and restraint. He gives off the illusion of detachment, but every so often, you can see his expression crack... just for a fraction of a second.
So I think, behind those calm responses and cold stares, he actually burns.
There’s fire in him and he’s far more passionate than he lets on."
He paused for a moment, pouring the tea with a smooth hand before continuing.
"That said, he’s measured. Thoughtful. He never reacts before calculating the consequences, and even when the board is stacked against him, he doesn’t lose the will to continue fighting.
In my eyes, that alone sets him apart from most of the young fools who don’t know how high Mount Tai is."
He placed a cup before the Twelfth Elder, then sat down across from him with his own.
"Of course, he won’t be easy to control. He’s not the kind to nod blindly and follow orders. He’ll question everything. Push back on the little details. Argue over methods, over meaning. If we think we can keep him in line like any of our pawns, we’ll be disappointed."
The First Elder sipped slowly, then lowered his cup.
"But even with that rebellious streak, he’s still a good candidate to become Dragon. Perhaps even the best one we’ve had in decades. He has the quick wit the role demands, but also the arrogance that makes people rally behind him. That blend of intelligence and pride is rare, and it’s what can make others believe in his strength."
His tone darkened slightly.
"Still, let’s not kid ourselves. We only have him under our thumb because we control his family. That is our leash. And the day we lose it... is the day he stops listening. So we must remain careful not to overplay that hand."
There was a pause, long and thoughtful, as the statement lingered in the air like a stern warning.
"I agree. I’ll be careful," the Twelfth Elder said after a while, his fingers wrapped around the warm ceramic as he took a careful sip. "I won’t rely on the family card unless I absolutely have to. If we push too hard, he’ll start planning around it. And if he starts planning around it... we’ll have already lost him."
Silence returned for a few seconds, broken only by the faint trickling of a nearby stream outside the retreat walls.
"What about the upcoming annual meeting on Planet FrostBurn?" the Twelfth Elder asked, shifting topics with a note of tension in his voice. "Do you have a strategy in mind for how you’re going to play this?"
The First Elder looked upward once more, eyes drifting toward the open skylight above as a soft breeze rustled the leaves outside.
His expression was relaxed, as a rare, almost amused smile appeared on his lips.
"Yes, I already know how to play it."
He leaned forward slightly, his tone growing more deliberate.
"If the boy truly has the scroll memorized, then I can make a strong case for him to be named Dragon despite the physical artifact being missing. I’ll paint it as divine providence, the boy’s prodigious mind making up for our tactical failures."
He paused again, swirling the last of his tea before taking another sip.
"But to make that speech land properly... I may need to admonish you in public," he said with a glance toward his counterpart, his words neither cruel nor mocking, but pragmatic.
The Twelfth Elder’s face tightened, frown lines appearing at the edge of his eyes. Being publicly scolded in the Council Chamber was never pleasant, and certainly not good for appearances, but he knew it was necessary.
Pride had to take a back seat when political influence was at play, and hence he nodded without protest.
"If that’s what it takes, I’ll bear it."
The First Elder leaned back, satisfied.
"Don’t worry. Even if I can’t get Skyshard appointed as Dragon in this upcoming session, I’ll ensure Veyr isn’t either. The last thing we can afford is allowing the Fourth Elder’s faction to gain momentum. As long as we delay that outcome, we stay alive in this race."
He placed his now-empty cup gently on the wooden table, the sound crisp in the quiet retreat.
Then he closed his eyes, took a slow, deep breath, and smiled once more, looking calm, calculating, and ready.
The game had begun. And for now, the board still favored them because of Leo’s stroke of genius to memorize the scroll when he had the chance.
—--------
(Meanwhile, Leo)
After his brief meeting with the First Elder concluded, Leo was promptly escorted back to the Hangar Bay Area, where he was placed on the first available flight bound for Planet Vorthas.
This time, he flew aboard a small private carrier designed to accommodate a single pilot and no more than seven passengers.
Sharing the space with him apart from the pilot were a security guard assigned for his protection and a lone civilian who happened to be traveling to Vorthas as well.
There were only four of them onboard the aircraft, and with the scheduled flight time being less than two hours, Leo didn’t mind the limited legroom or confined interior.
He simply leaned back, closed his eyes, and waited patiently for the flight to arrive at its destination.
*Tap*
*Tap*
A few minutes into the flight, Leo felt someone gently poking him with a stick.
He stirred, eyes blinking open in mild confusion, and turned to look behind him, only to find the elderly man seated in the row behind, the sole civilian on the craft, peering at him with a curious gleam in his eye.
"Yes?" Leo asked, voice neutral but not unkind.
The old man, visibly trembling with age, opened his mouth to respond, but first had to wipe away the bit of spittle gathering near his lips, as he tried his best to speak clearly.
"Young man... has anyone ever told you that you bear a striking resemblance to Dragon Kevin?" the man asked with a kind smile, already reaching into his coat pocket. A moment later, he pulled out a faded, worn leather wallet, its edges fraying from decades of use.
"I met Dragon Kevin when I was just seven years old... and I even kept a photo to commemorate the day. Seeing you now brought that memory rushing back," the man continued warmly, extending the wallet toward Leo.
Inside was a photograph—yellowed with time—showing a young version of the old man standing proudly beside a figure who bore an uncanny resemblance to Leo’s father, Jacob.
In fact, the man in the picture looked about 80% similar to Jacob and, by extension, to Leo himself, which even made Leo take a double glance just to be sure.
’Oh yeah, he does look like me...’ Leo thought, as if he superimposed his own face over the photo, and adopted the same hairstyle and beard cut, he would definitely look like a brother or a relative of the man.
"That’s very cool," Leo said sincerely, offering a polite smile. "Must’ve been an amazing experience to meet the Dragon."
He gently handed the wallet back, but instead of tucking it away, the old man clutched it to his chest with trembling hands, his eyes misting with emotion.
"I couldn’t serve Dragon Kevin... I couldn’t serve Dragon Noah... my life amounted to nothing in the end," the old man said, his voice cracking. "The only wish I have left is to see a new Dragon named before I pass on... but the Elders Council hasn’t found a worthy candidate in decades."
The grief in his tone was so raw, so genuine, that it caught Leo slightly off-guard.
For the first time in a long while, he felt a pang in his heart, as he felt a quiet, unexpected pinch of empathy.
"Hang on tight, old man," Leo said with a half-smile, his tone lighter as he tried to lift the mood. "The future Dragon might still need your services."
The man chuckled at that, visibly brightening.
"If the Dragon calls for me, I’ll be there. These old bones still have enough strength left to take on a few righteous faction bastards! You better believe it!" he said, his spirit rising as his voice grew stronger.
Leo gave him a respectful nod, then turned forward once again, his eyes settling on the empty craft wall ahead.
’The Dragon... What does that title really mean to these people? For this old man to carry such deep emotion for it, even after all these years?’
That question lingered in his mind, echoing softly as he sat in silence.
Between this brief encounter and the reverent treatment he had received aboard the Cult ship, Leo couldn’t help but wonder—
What did it truly mean to be the Dragon?