Snow Leopard Cookie @snowleopardcrk - Tumblr Blog

Apr 10

Thousands of years have passed. I have to defend my thesis/diploma in less then a week. Whatever. Have the part four that I had to rewrite multiple times. I'm putting so much Chinese mythology into Flour Ridge worldbuilding

Warnings: violence, I think suicidal ideation to some degree (it's Mystic and Lamian), somebody unimportant dies for worldbuilding but it's not graphic, and not exactly cannibalism because Lamian is a dragon and nothing happened but they had... some thoughts mentioned. No beta we die like White Lily in game

BAAU by @cuppajj

-----

“Igh rawl theis–”

“Igh rawl thais. Like in the word ‘bar’.” The dragon corrected her.

It was an early morning in the Ivory Pagoda. The sun didn't rise yet. The Master of the Pagoda worked on the tapestry by the candlelight. The smell of smoke was almost nauseating to Lamian Dragon but the Virtue herself remained unbothered.

“I think it might be too early in the morning for a language lesson.”

“Why? You don't sleep.”

The dragon was sitting behind her on the cushion. Even when they were on the level of the floor while Flour of Volition was in a high chair – the dragon remained taller. She was the smallest of all Virtues. And yet in some way she seemed to be greater than anything. At least to the Imperial Dragon it seemed that way.

Lamian Dragon carefully pulled the comb through the woman's hair. Making sure there were no knots in it. On the blanket beside them were the hairpin and the headpiece with the souljam in it. The diamond shaped gem shined brightly.

“Indeed I do not. But this early I seem to be able to focus only on one thing at the time. Forgive me.”

“You're forgiven, despite committing no sin.”

They didn't tell her that perhaps she should have slept, at least a little. They had tried a few times, and were met with firm refusal. She was created to be a guide, and to help cookies in need. She believed she should be available at all times.

It was easier to get her to eat something. Although she believed that there were those who were in bigger need of substance, when she didn't need it for survival. For her eating was a type of indulgence that served no other purpose than perhaps pleasure. There would always be someone who needed that food more than her. But sometimes, Lamian, acolytes or even simple farmers were able to get her to taste something. Not fully eating, for even the bites she would take were almost not existent. But just tasting. Allowing herself to experience sourness, sweetness, spiciness or any other flavor in the smallest doses.

On one hand it could be worrying. That she was neither sleeping or eating. On the other this was Volition itself given form and consciousness. A concept, an action. In a way it made sense that an idea could exist on its own. No need to sustain itself. A cookie form simply made it easier to comprehend, to communicate.

Lamian Dragon looked up from their work on her hair. They stared at the tapestry she was weaving.

She almost finished it. It took her a few long months to weave it. Partially due to her duties as a Virtue and as a teacher. Many people everyday wanted their wishes granted, and there were liturgies, and teaching sessions. It took over most of the day. The time to weave was only at night.

On the other hand the issue was the complexity of what she was weaving, the size of tapestry and the technique she used. The fabric was almost as big as a blanket for a bed. And kesi weave usually was used in clothing. Because of the density of the knots. Each color had to be taken from a separate bobbin. It had to be woven carefully so only weft would be seen, no warp.

Thankfully she was using a loom. At first she had wanted to do it by hand. Lamian Dragon had knocked that idea out of her head. Flour of Volition had done no crime to subject herself to such specific and prolonged form of torture. If she were to do an entire tapestry by hand only, it would take her at least another century.

Additionally there was no need to pay for insane qualities of silk. She simply manifested them. Whatever color of thread she needed, it would appear. It saved on costs and also limited suffering of poor bugs.

The tapestry showed an illustration to one of the popular stories. A pair of colorful butterflies sitting on white lotus flower. Their wings were purple with accents of gold and white. In the background were mountains and tangerine ducks. It all had a decorative woven frame as well, it was of dark purple color. Underneath the frame were lyrics to a song. Translated from Flourian into a common language.

Mountain to mountain, cliff to cliff Bees come from deep in the mountains to gather nectar Bee dies for the sake of the flower Like Sa-te died for Zongzi

It was a bit of a shame that the rhymes from Flourian weren’t kept in the translated version. Although to some extent it would be hard to fit almost four rhymes per line, in such a short song. And to make sure it rhymed with the names…

They focused again on their work. Lamian slowly, and carefully started to tie Volition’s hair into a neat bun. Keeping it in place with pins. It was quite easy to do. Ivory Lady’s movements were minimal when she was weaving. At last they gently took the headpiece with a souljam. The power from that gem was almost radiating. Carefully they put it on top of her head. In front of the bun, close to the pins. They used the last, the smallest pin to lock it in place.

“Done.”

Flour of Volition stopped her task. She turned around a bit. To see her reflection in the mirror on the other wall. Because the only source of light were candles, she couldn’t see herself that well, but it seemed to be done well. And the hair did feel firmly tied, it didn’t come loose whenever she would move her head.

She turned her head around. Now staring directly at the dragon. Even in Cookie form Dragons remained many draconic traits. Only in full disguise they were able to blend in. Ivory scales were very visible in the darkened room. It nicely contrasted against the goldish color of their hair and beard. Lamian had a bit of a longer but more slim muzzle. Their lips were naturally curved downwards due to how their entire jaw was constructed. But seeing Volition gently smile at them, with the usual shine in her brown eyes, made their lips curve upwards as well. Even if only just a little bit.

“Your help is highly appreciated, Lamian Dragon Cookie. Thank you.”

She stood up from her seat. Turning around to remove the fabric from the loom, as the tapestry was finished. Lamian Dragon slowly stood up as well, stretching as they did so. Their joints made small cracking sounds. They moved towards a box that stood by the door.

The box was on the bigger side. Perfect to transport the tapestry. It wasn't signed in any way or form. It was as ordinary looking as possible. Many of such boxes would be used this week. As Flour of Volition wasn't the only one making tapestry. Many acolytes made their own. In villages and other kingdoms countless Cookies and dumplings did theirs as well.

A festival was about to happen soon. They had many of those. Although this one was particularly short. Just a few days, not a whole week. It was to people to show their craft of weaving. To appreciate work and art without attaching any names. Without status or titles affecting the interpretation. Afterwards those tapestries would be hanged in multiple sanctuaries and shrines. Be it in the Great Ivory Pagoda or any smaller pagodas, where other deities or ideas were being worshipped.

Flour of Volition didn't see a problem with those ideas coexisting. These things were here before her, and many worked to build those places of worship. If people had enough will to pray and take care of those places it was no issue. If people weren't forcing their beliefs cruelly onto others it was alright.

Similar rules applied to Ivory Pagoda. Everyone was allowed to participate in liturgies. To come meditate. To listen. To become an acolyte. Everyone was also allowed to leave if it was truly their will. Cycles were full of change but were repeatable. There were countless ways to find enlightenment to make the future cycle easier. Not everyone could walk the same road.

Though, it would be incredibly merciful if there was an easier way. If clarity could be given to everyone just as easily. Alas, this world was full of hardships. By granting wishes maybe she could at least make the current cycles not as cruel.

Lamian Dragon moved the box towards the Ivory Lady. They lifted the lid, and observed how she carefully put the object inside. She observed it for a moment longer.

“Would you be willing to translate the song into a dragontongue?” She asked as she took a step back so they could close the box. Lamian tilted their head in thought as they watched her walk away to slowly put out the candles.

Now, it wasn’t such a strange request. Lamian outside of their duties did enjoy translating documents, poems and songs. Be it into Flourian or common speech. Or even into a dragontongue. Although the last one was a tad problematic at times, given its… nature.

The issue with that was that it held magic within itself. A very special type of magic. Language that allowed one to cast a spell freely. Not to say, it was abnormal to use words when using any arcane knowledge. But magic users often needed not only words but other equipment. Drawn glyphs or sigils, a staff, crystal. Something to channel the magic properly, so as to not injure themselves by accident. It perhaps even extended to humans that so many Cookies worshipped. In a few depictions Lamian Dragon has seen of Witches they always held something or had their hands clasped together.

Dragontongue allowed casting a spell without other equipment. Maybe if a dragon was born with a gem, they mostly channeled the power through it for safety. Still, it allowed any Dragons to strengthen themselves temporarily, to claim the territory theirs for ages after their death. To easily cast countless spells that others would learn for ages. Whenever the Dragon spoke Dragontongue their voice would vibrate with power, even if no spell was cast. It was inherently a very powerful language.

But it was in the end, well, a language. Only Dragons could use its magic. But speaking it? Everyone could speak it. It was a language, for Witch’s sake. The only difficult thing would be a different alphabet, as it used draconic runes. But the structure of sentences was very simple. As nouns could be used like verbs without changing the original form of a word… as long as it was present tense. Past tense and future tense had more complicated grammar rules.

Flour of Volition was easily learning the language, although she sometimes had problems with pronunciation of some words. She had first picked up a few words from Lamian whenever they had played a game of go or mahjong with other acolytes or Dumpling Kings. The old lizard had a nasty habit of cursing when losing a game.

Lamian Dragon couldn't pinpoint when exactly they had started teaching Ivory Lady the Dragontongue. Definitely before the Azure Koi incident (the poor teenager had known only Dragontongue; sheltered child). They knew however she picked it up easily. She was good with languages. They had spent many nights just teaching each other things. She had taught them a lot of geography of other continents, as they themselves didn't really travel outside the Great-Yeast, while she had done the entire pilgrimage (she had been the last to arrive on this continent out of all Virtues. Choosing to first travel deserted lands, to understand the struggle of the poor).

Call Lamian a traitor of the Dragon kind, but they genuinely couldn't understand the stupid idea of making Dragontongue ‘sacred’. It was a language and a form of magic. Nothing more, nothing less. It couldn't be more or less sacred than any other language or any other magic. The only special thing about it was that it was tied to Dragons. So what?

Was lunar magic special because it could be separated into two types? Was solar magic strange because it destroyed as much as it healed? Was void magic evil because it was degrading other beings or the user? The magic came from specific sources, of course it would be reflected in its applications and effects.

Why worry about other Cookies using Dragon magic if they couldn't? Not unless a Dragon allowed them to, and no one is stupid enough to allow such a thing. And even then, the consent could be taken back, or in the worst case the troublesome Cookie could be crumbled, devoured even. It was a mostly theoretical problem, with an easy solution. If anything, making Dragontongue to be such a sacred thing attracted even more people eager to learn it for less noble or simplistic reasons. Stupid draconic pride. Useless need to make the dragon kind look higher. It only created more problems than it solved.

They shook their head a little. They pushed the door open with their tail as the Flour of Volition put out the last candle. To let the light from the corridor inside, so they wouldn’t be fully surrounded by the darkness.

“If you want me to include the original rhyming structure, it might take me a while. But it shouldn’t take too long. It’s easy enough of a song.”

It would be a nice, small challenge. It would also help with teaching. Flour of Volition was already quite good with dragontongue. But the Eel Dragon acolyte had problems with Flourian and common language. The young girl despite her devotion had a bit of a short attention span. Easily got bored. Maybe teaching the kid with some more engaging methods would be easier. She learned quicker when she got more to do than through endless repetition of the same words and letters.

The Imperial Dragon leaned against the door and kept it open as Flour of Volition walked out of the room. She moved gently, slowly. The combination of her colors, white and gold, and the shine of the souljam almost made her glow. Like a saint in these dark halls. A calming, gentle yet bright presence. Holy. Lovely.

“I'll see you at the liturgy as usual, no?” Flour of Volition asked as they walked side by side.

A tiniest bit of light was going through the windows. If one were to stop and look for a moment, they would notice a faint pink line on the horizon outside. The sun was slowly waking up. But there was still a while until it would even be a sunrise.

The dragon shortly nodded. “Yes, I have a meeting with one of the Dumpling envoys from the northern Kingdom, but I should be on time. It should be done in the afternoon.”

“An envoy? Has something happened?”

“Not really. Just silk prices went down, and the aristocracy doesn't like that. The usual problems like if the rich. Morons.”

“While I share the sentiment regarding vanity and greed, please refrain from using degrading language.” She scolded them shortly.

“Apologies.”

“... Why are they bothered by the low prices? Doesn't it mean they can have more of it?”

She didn't like greed. But she understood how it worked. How people under its influence acted. Why be mad about having more of something if that's what they aimed for?

“Because the lower class can afford it.”

Flour of Volition stopped in her tracks. Her light seemed to slightly dim. “... I don't think I follow.”

The dragon paused and turned around. They corrected their grip on the box.

“The higher class likes expensive things because they can afford it. It shows off their status and control. People don't really like when others dictate them.” Lamian started. They spoke patiently, but also with some level of boredom. “If the lower class can afford silk, then it's no more a luxury item. It both levels up to commoners and downgrades the aristocracy. They don't want to be put in the same category as those they see beneath them.”

“... What a disheartening way to be…”

The dragon simply shrugged. “Even animals have a hierarchy system. The more intelligent beings, the more complicated it can get, when culture, beliefs and politics are involved. I would say it is a common problem of curent times. No need to dwell on it for too long.”

“Lamian Dragon, you were the emperor of these mountains.”

“And I gave the commoners the right to choose who they work for. They can change their masters or work on their own if they desire so. The higher class had disliked that decision.”

“Did they send the envoys back then?”

“No.”

“Why so?”

“The residents of these regions were always very superstitious. They assign divinity to any ruling party. They assign divinity to me, they assign divinity to Dumplings Kings, and they assign divinity to you.”

And maybe she was the most deserving of that title. Of that reputation. Granting wishes with the sheer power of her will. Not having a limit as to what and how much she could grant. Meanwhile, the Dragon needed to channel their power through the flaming pearl. And even then they had the limit, each wish granted made them more tired. Needed to rest. Reminded of restraints a mortal vessel has. Regardless of how long Dragons could last, immortal they were not.

Ivory Lady, however… she fitted the idea of a god way more. Ability to endlessly grant wishes. To alternate reality just to fulfill one's wants. Her limitless generosity should be praised endlessly. And how she shined. So brightly. Not like a sun, for her shine didn’t hurt the eyes. Like something gentler, but just as warm. The patience she had, the love she carried for this world. Even if there was something she disliked, she still believed one could better themselves. If not in this cycle than another. Was this world not the most forgiveful one? To grant every living being endless chances? To allow them to grow spiritually and as a person? In her mind the world could be endlessly harsh, but it was just as forgiveful.

What a lovely mindset to have. And while the dragon did want to believe it, while they did try to believe it… to Lamian it seemed incredibly fragile, in quite a concerning way. They let themselves hope that fortuna wouldn’t let such ideas shatter. Too much of a loss it would be…

“If they consider you godlike, why are they disagreeing with you?” She asked, slowly moving again.

“I stepped down from the role of Emperor. Some of them probably believe I declined a higher status. I’m not sure what that is supposed to mean to them, as I’m certain I was a dragon before I was crowned an Emperor, and the last time I checked I was in fact still a dragon.”

That almost made Volition’s lips curve a bit upwards. Almost. “What will you do with the envoy?”

They shrugged. “Not much. Just gonna waste their time. I’m not gonna raise the prices, it’s moronic. If we have so much supply of it for once, it’s logical the price will go down.”

“Please, make them play a game of go, and inform me if you win for once.”

Lamian paused in their tracks. They watched Virtue walk past them. Their mouth slightly open. They watched her walking away. But never quite disappearing from their line of sight. They rolled their eyes, and they walked into the other direction. They had to put the tapestry away with the others.

-----

“I… I can’t see…”

“Hush now. Abandon the remaining fear.” Mystic Flour’s words were very clear. Even as just a spider.

It sometimes happened that pale enlightenment caused senses to cease working. After all, the vessel had to fall apart for the soul to be fully freed and transported. Out of this realm and onto the higher plane.

Lamian Dragon gently cradled the Cookie in their arms. The mortal’s head leaned against their chest. Listening to their heartbeat. Slow, rhythmic, deep. A soothing, pleasant sound.

Cookie was fully white. Even their clothes were covered in flour that was falling off of them. They must be from one of the villages close. Behind the mountains. Cloud Haetae had alerted Lamian that there was someone waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Usually Ghee was the one to help any blessed get up. Guiding them, supporting them. Alas, he wasn't here to do it. The task fell onto the dragon. They complained not. It was normal.

Visitors come here to depart peacefully. Already blessed. Already enlightened. Just struggling with fully giving in. And blessing while great and beautiful, it did weaken physical strength. Where they were going this vessel was not needed. It was never theirs to keep.

They were not at Ivory Pagoda. But at one of the mountains. In one of the grottos. In the past Mystic Flour could enlighten anyone easily. Cover up the entire kingdom in a fog of flour. Thousands, millions liberated in a blink of an eye. Oh how great it had been to watch, to witness such an event. Such a grand show of kindness.

But now… due to the damage she had endured… instant liberation was hard for her to grant. It was easier through pale enlightenment. Slow process, but allowed each being to slowly get accustomed. At their own pace. But sometimes they felt as if they were called. And they walked despite the sickness, despite the pain. Traveled to the Ivory Pagoda, wishing for a safe passage to the other Realm. And that was the only wish that Mystic Flour was still fully willing to grant. Even in her limited state.

In this particular grotto was a water source. It flowed down the mountain, creating the river that fell into the sea. It also created a few big ponds in this grotto. The water reflected the light that seemed through the entrance and cracks in the walls. There was soft moss around and mountain flowers growing. But most importantly: there were lotus flowers in the pond. They were all very big, oversized. Old magic flowed through those mountains still. Eras full of wish granting left a mark on the very environment.

Perhaps in the eras to come, it will fade away. Nature returning to its most original state.

Mystic Flour worked diligently. Her form of a small spider did not discourage her one bit. She was pulling the petals of the biggest flower further apart. To each petal attaching her silk string and lowering herself down. Pulling. Attaching to the pond leaf. It made it look like a lace made out of web. But it made the core of the flower more accessible.

Once the inside of the flower was fully open, Lamian Dragon fully stood up. Still carefully held onto Cookie. They breathed, but didn't react. The dragon took a few slow steps forward. It stepped into the pond. The water got slightly disturbed. Their shoes and bottom of the robes were wet. Their tail felt uncomfortable, as if the end of it started to melt. It probably did.

Gently, carefully they laid a Cookie inside the flower. As if one tucked a child to bed. Cookie only stirred a bit at the loss of warmth, but they did not fight. They complied with everything that was happening to them.

Once they were safe, the dragon moved their hand towards the web. Their claws touched the delicate art. But it didn't break it yet, no. They waited a moment. The white spider slowly crawled up onto their scally hand. A contrast against her fuzzy eight legs. She slowly made her way up their sleeve, and stopped once she was seated on their shoulder. Mystic Flour starred quietly. Small eight black eyes observing the scene. She tapped one of her legs.

That was enough of a cue for Lamian. With one small move they cut through the web with their claws. The delicate structure gave in immediately. All petals one by one returned to their original place. And then the flower started to close tightly. As if turning back in time. Going from blossom to a bud. Lamian Dragon pushed the plant away gently. It drifted towards the middle of a pond.

The lotus was originally of a pale purple color. But it quickly started to fade away. As it closed more and more. Any semblance of color soon became gone. It became pure white. Contrasting so much, looking so bright in this shaded grotto. Such a simple but beautiful thing. The flower slowly opened anew. Blossoming once again. The same but different.

There was no Cookie inside the flower anymore. What was left was a pile of flour. Some of it fell out. Dropping into the pond and mixing with the water. Lamian didn't care. Neither did Mystic. It would flow down the stream with the current. Down the mountains and into the great sea, into the ocean. It was simply flour. It contaminated nothing and did not cause any issues. With how little flour there was it would just dissolve in the water. For now it was. And soon it would be no more.

Lamian Dragon simply stared at the flower for a while before stepping out of the pond. The water dripped from them and their tail. They grabbed the pearl they had left earlier on the ground. It wasn't burning, thank Witches, but was quite warm.

Mystic said nothing for a while. She broke the silence after a moment. Once they were outside the grotto. Once the mountain landscape was clear in front of them, and cold mountain air hit them both.

“What a slow process.” She said simply. No judgement in her voice. Simple observation.

“But it never fails.” The dragon answered right on cue.

It was a slow method. Way slower than Ivory Lady simply enlightening others. They were lucky this one departed fast. That final push just had to be delicate. Usually it could take up to several long hours for the lotus flower to drain off color and open up again. For many that final step was the hardest.

The flowers had been used back in the Beast Era albeit very rarely. Usually when Mystic Flour would accompany Burning Spice in his rampages. However she never really had taken an active role in them. Only entering the destroyed cities or villages once the fire started to die down. Asking the Great Destroy to stop would have been foolish. He would always cause a reset of a cycle for his own entertainment, for that rush of violence. Trivial and short-lasting feelings. But to walk behind him? To extinguish any suffering as soon as possible?

No survivors ever. Only glowing flames of destruction. Burning ever higher. And then a soothing revelation. Pale and cold apathy. Black ashes and white flour mixing so easily. So naturally. A brutal finish of a cycle, and then an enlightening liberation from this sorrowful realm.

When she was gone Lamian was in charge. And it would be cruel to make the Cookies try to helplessly grasp at that final string leading to another Realm. At the final step, their bodies almost already gone, just a little more push. Just a bit. Of course, the entire procedures were approved by Mystic herself. Aware that while the blessing of pale enlightenment reached everywhere, she couldn't be in all places to monitor and ensure a smooth journey.

That was sadly a part of the cycle. Suffering. Pain. Those things would remain always, especially during the journey to enlightenment, to immortality in the realm beyond. If the Cookies are to suffer either way… may it be in the form of sickness. Something natural, not a harm brought by another man. May it slowly reduce their bodies to flour, so the pain would be as not existent as possible, only fever. May that fever grant them visions of the Realm of the Immortals. Of gentle seas, green valleys and peaceful mountains. The Realm that by Mystic Flour's will shall be open to all. Be it a child or an adult. A man, a woman or neither. A Cookie, a Cake, a Dumpling, a Spice, a Dragon, any species. Be it a baker, a miner or a huntsman… be it a scholar, a soldier, a king, a gardener or a prophet. Be it a saint or a criminal. None were worse or better. The crimes that have been committed, all the great deeds done… it mattered not in the end. All were trapped, tempted by the surrounding world, hearts of simple beings were too weak to resist endlessly. And so the Ivory Lady had granted them all a passage. Allowed them all the entry, so they may suffer no more.

May their bodies return to flour. Meaningless and temporary vessels shedded to let the soul ascend. Or may they be gently wrapped by the flowers, helping them commit the final step. Delicate petals protecting them. Like her cocoon had protected her back all those years ago.

Lamian Dragon walked down the stairs. Carefully navigating the steps that were too small for them by now. They were mentally running down the list of things to do. The ships they had destroyed were already moved. Easily had separated all the resources. The only thing was to wait for either Silent Legion or Spice Swarm to show up. In the meantime they could play their instrument. Or perhaps see if the overgrown orchard was bearing any fruit. There was no need for them to go hunting for themselves or Haetae. There was still enough dried meat… for now. Or they could teach Haetae fortune telling. If they were willing to resume their lessons.

Ah, speak of the devil.

The young Haetae was climbing up the stairs right now. In their animal form. Jumping two, sometimes even three steps at the time. Clearly aiming to get to Lamian Dragon and Mystic Flour as fast as possible. Lamian crouched down. To be more on their level as they approached. But even then they still towered over Cloud Haetae. The young fella heaved, trying to get some air in their longs.

“Cloud Haetae Cookie,” Lamian greeted them. They carefully moved their hand to pet them.

The little haetae leaned into their touch. It was much different from Mystic Flour's. Her touch was more delicate. More naturally gentle. Lamian’s gentleness was cautious. Always highly aware of their sharp claws that could cut through skin like a knife through butter.

They knew that. Mystic knew that. And Cloud Haetae knew that as well. The images of an attack were always fresh in their mind. So much blood, so much crumbs. It had been everywhere. On the stairs, on the floor, on the wall. The room had been full of smoke. There had been four loud sounds. One when their mom had been defeated, one when the cocoon had been cut, one when the fire started, and one when Dragon had entered.

So much blood. So much crumbs. Oh well… it didn't matter that much anymore…

“The visitors arrived to collect the resources from the ships.” The Haetae panted. Their tongue sticking out. Trying to cool themselves down.

“Is it Swarm or the Legion?” Mystic Flour asked.

With each they would need to approach it differently. Yes, the Flour Ridge was giving away the resources. The harvests could be abundant, but there was no need for so much food, even with a dragon around. And whatever was on the ships they didn't need. Even a very ship itself could be repurposed. Perhaps wood could be used for something. And the fabric of the sail could definitely find a new purpose.

But Spice Swarm was full of rowdy Spicelings. Almost as loud as Burning Spice himself. Almost. No one could be louder than him. They often broke things. Be it on purpose or on accident. Harsh in nature. Showing their authority by their strength and brutality. Violent beings, those ones.

Even more dangerous because they were quite smart. If you want to be good at destroying, at plundering, at taking over, one first needs to know a thing or two. What's the weakest point of a building? Which soldiers should be at front, and which at the back? What advantage does a terrain give them? Is one a tiger or buffalo, or maybe a cobra? Each Spiceling had traits that could be used. Buffaloes’ horns, tigers’ claws and teeth, cobras’ potent venom.

Despite Lamian's great dislike for the havoc the Swarm could bring with them, they were quite fond of Wild Spices. How they used their attributes in fighting. Allowing those natural instincts to guide them. It was quite sinful of the dragon, they had to agree. That they enjoyed something so low and so simplistic as almost animalistic brawl. That they found it interesting in any form.

Silent Legion in comparison to Swarm was more… united. More organized. Synchronized. Each soldier was perfectly trained, a mistake was not allowed in their army. They were also more practical. While Swarm found excitement in combat in gore, for Legion it was simply part of the duty. Defeat the target, defend the land, move on to another task. Of course, they certainly were proud of their job. They had to believe in it. Otherwise guilt would eat all those soldiers alive.

Which army was more brutal? More bloody? It would be useless to ponder over it. Both were cruel if one thought about it.

One was open about their drive for destruction. About how they plundered and annihilated. There was no reason to hide it or to lie about it. In Land of Spices they lived close to their natural urges. Survival of the fittest, survival of the strongest. The most natural form of things that without fail drove things forward for generations. So much change, so much development and in every single civilization it still stood. Only the definition of “strong” changed. Wild Spices had simply embraced nature and the brutal monotony of change. Or at least that's what it looked like to Lamian. Spicelings were firmly saying they simply chose to dictate when things change and how. That destruction builds better results later on. That the moment of something ending is the most beautiful one (with that one even Ivory Lady could agree to an extent). That it is an honor to fight until one crumbles alive.

That's what the Spices claimed. The strongest tribes at least. The Dragon wondered what the weaker tribes would say. Kulfi Monkeys or Turmeric Pigs. Or even Kaju Katli Lizards, who were stuck in between. Neither weaklings but rarely strong enough to join the ranks of the Spice Swarm.

Silent Legion was cruel in a different way. Silence and Solidarity mixing together. Protecting their land until the very end, and even after that. Because what else they had left? They claimed it to be the last safe place, and yet there was martial law. Not lifted for millennia. Claiming safety in that control silence. For a better good.

And they still had Cookies joining them. Venturing on their land. Becoming a member of one of the villages or the very capital itself. Maybe the poor souls found safety in that honesty. That the Legion would be one in charge and the inhabitants were to be quiet. But in exchange the Legion offered their absolute deviation to them.

Sloth had no place among the soldiers. There was always something to do. Places to patrol, ghosts to keep in check, monsters to slay, recruits to train, travelers to guard.

Destruction was not allowed to Salt Flatlands, if anything it was aimed back at any perpetrator. If an enemy wished to fight or threaten the home of Legion, they shall answer for their words and actions.

Deceit had no place. Legion was crystal clear with what they were doing. That they could imprison, execute or cast away those who tried to cause infighting among citizens, or the very soldiers themselves. Had there not been enough lies? Do people not have enough? To be lied to by one another? The Legion may lost their reputation of kindness, but that of protection was still adequate.

Apathy was more tricky. For there was clear care for their land. For their homeland, for the home they chose. If Apathy was present it was towards the enemies. They took care of them the same way day did with monsters. Simply, methodically. As if they were removing pests, not people.

Both were cruel. Just different kinds of cruel.

Cloud Haetae leaned into the Dragon’s touch. They took a few longer moments before speaking up. They swallowed their saliva, almost nervously.

“It's both…” they said. Sounding tired, annoyed, and a bit anxious. “They both came…”

There was a deaf silence among all three of them. Only noise of the wind blowing so high up. Finally, Mystic Flour broke it. There was a small noise. Almost like a sigh.

“Lamian Dragon,” she started. Carefully. Her voice was as calm as ever, although there was some sharpness to it. Almost unnoticeable. “Go get your glaive.”

-----

Mystic Flour against common misconception had her likes and dislikes. The Apathy was about holding no attachment. About not despairing when faced with a tragedy, and not overly celebrating or boasting when blessed by fortune.

She greatly disliked violence, for example. But she did understand that in some way it had its right to exist. It is one of the most natural things. Animals fight for survival. They fight for territory, for food, for mating rights. Violence, is one of the most natural things. It would always be part of Cookiekind, it would be idiotic to assume otherwise.

However, since Cookiekind was crafted in the image of humanity, violence was a choice. It was a natural part, but one could choose to not indulge in. Cookies and all other sapient beings have proven they can rise above it. There could be times, when violence was justified or downright necessary, but it was still a choice to do it. And if Mystic Flour could avoid it, she would. She had taught her followers the same thing. That it is natural but not everything that is natural should be indulged. Everything has its right and its limit.

People are not evil for trying to defend themselves. That was the original point of weapons. For hunting and for defense. People are not evil for trying to survive.

But it was such a fine line. Such a fine line between using the tool for its original purpose and turning it against a fellow person. For what? Because of anger? Jealousy? Greed? Such trivial feelings, such trivial things. Turning something natural into something truly disgusting.

She didn't dislike Wild Spices but she disliked the Swarm. They thrived on these trivial feelings aimed to constantly satisfy them in a very violent manner. She disliked violence, but they did listen to it. And she didn't need Lamian Dragon to immediately go on the attack. Simply caring their glaive was a good start. That was an opening statement. It always made Wild Spices more cautious. Even if they'd want to fight, they first analyze the opponent, and consider if it's worth the hassle.

Fighting a Dragon? Rarely worth it. An armed Dragon keeps waters calm. A shame such a quiet threat had to be made. Oh well… It was merely a temporary problem. In time the Land of Spices would be full of tranquility too. Everything has its place. Everything has its end. Such is the cyclical nature of the world.

The three of them, young Haetae, Dragon and Mystic, stood now behind one of the buildings. Ivory Lady still in her spider form and on Lamian’s shoulder. Obscured by the veil. Cloud Haetae behind them. Like a young pup hiding behind a parent. Lamian was observing the scene in the distance. Gripping tightly onto their old glaive. It was rusty, and still had a bit of dried blood. They haven't used it since the last time… So much blood, so much crumbs…

They narrowed their eyes and focused on what was happening. There was a lot of soldiers in the distance. From both armies. No surprise. They were here for resources. A lot of them. Transporting it all will require a lot of people, and probably several more just for protection of the goods. Just in case.

There was a lot of noise. Too much noise. That should be expected. Wild Spices are often loud. Be it because they're happy, sad, angry, anything. Always aware of their emotions and ready to show it to the world. Not hiding it. Flowing with. But the main reason for the ruckus was that the Legion was here as well. And while Salt Flatlands and Land of Spices traded it didn't mean their relationship was any good. They traded out of necessity. But if any of the sides caused anything things were probably ready to explode.

There was a fight going on. Not a brawl. A member of the Legion was put against one of the Swarm. A soldier against a soldier. Test of strength perhaps? There had to be some sort of arguing. That they decided to test themselves. Lamian’s tail wrapped around the pearl tightly. He could spot multiple cilantro cobras among the gathered. They always liked shiny things, those ones. Greedy kind.

They made one step forward, before they felt Haetae yanking on their robe. They were not looking at the dragon. Still eyeing the various soldiers. Soldiers who were fighting each other. Soldiers who were loud. Cloud Haetae liked visitors to some extent, but they never liked soldiers too much.

“May we do a fortune telling first?” The young Haetae asked meekly.

A poor attempt at stalling. At putting the situation away in time. Lamian Dragon had Yansheng coins with them. But both Haetae and the Dragon knew that wasn’t how fortune telling with the coins worked. They needed incense, the bowl, and fire first. And it would take a while. One fortune telling could take up to thirty minutes, maybe more.

Yet the Dragon kneeled down. To be on a similar level as Haetae. They handed them their bag with their coins. Cloud Haetae Cookie shook it for a longer while. For the coins to mix well. Then they opened it and raised it up. Signaling Lamian to grab a coin.

It would be useless. That's not how fortune telling works. This was merely a chance of drawing a coin. Not trying to glimpse what fate possibly had in store. This would lead nowhere.

And yet they did reach into the bag and pulled out one coin. If it didn't matter in the end, they could entertain the young one. Just a short moment before they have to go back to work. They observed the picture and the words on the charm.

“A lotus flower,” Mystic Flour hummed.

“Oh, that's a good one.” Cloud Haetae eagerly nodded their head and wagged their tail.

Well, of course the lotus flower was on its own a good symbol. It was always a positive symbol. But the rituals were to decipher what exactly it could mean. In combination with other charms. Alone these pictures can have so many various interpretations, they simply lost their meanings altogether.

They turned the charm in their hand a few times. Long claws scraping the surface of the metal. After a moment they put it back in the bag and stood up. They corrected their trip on the glaive. They eyed the soldiers fighting, again. They waited for a good moment.

And then there it was. Those two were circling each other. There was enough distance between them.

The glaive was thrown. It cut swiftly through the air. It hit the black brick floor of the Pagoda. The sound of the metal getting stuck in place echoed around. Putting all the soldiers of each army on edge.

They all looked in the same direction. The Dragon walked towards them. Their posture was straight. Their hands clasped behind them. Their sharp eyes slightly shone through the veil of their hat. Despite their size, they moved quietly. Only a delicate sound of flour falling off from their tail with every sudden movement.

“The rules of Ivory Pagoda remain unchanged since the day Volition herself arrived. No fights on these grounds are allowed.”

They spoke loud and clear. Lacking any speech problems like many others of their kind. No hissing sneaked in, not growls or purrs. Perfect pronunciation, spoke with authority. Not one that should be expected from a dragon, but from a person in charge. Lamian Dragon has been addressing crowds since they were as big as a crate. What is merely a fraction of the army in comparison to four giant kingdoms they had ruled in the past?

They paused for a second. Locking eyes on the main representative of Spice Swarm. Nutmeg Tiger Cookie was here herself, that's rare but not abnormal. But there was no messenger from the Legion. That was out of norm. The fae lately showed up more often. Always arriving before his other comrades if there was anything to transport. Probably a change in orders from Silent Salt.

“Violate this rule again, and Flour Ridge shall cease providing all of you with any resources.” Lamian Dragon said as they grabbed their glaive. They removed it from the floor in one swift movement.

Their ears twitched. The Silent Legion seemed to back down. The Swarm not so much. But they did move aside, to make way for Nutmeg Tiger. The woman stretched herself first. The golden nail rings on her fingers shined. A pretty piece of jewelry but a dangerous weapon as well. The woman acted as if the entire situation, the entire previous fight, was boring her. Clearly used to something more violent. She picked up her golden shield with a ruby at its center before she walked up to them. Her entire posture emanated confidence. The claws of her paws clicked as she walked. However, something in her did seem alerted. Or at least more aware of her surroundings. She tilted her head to look up at the Dragon.

“... May we be excused. But when two armies meet, we shall test ourselves against each other. Soldiers shall know which one is stronger.”

She sounded harsh. That was her natural way of speaking, regardless who she was addressing. But she clearly did try to choose her words carefully. To not cause another fight too soon. Even if her entire being was yearning to watch the bloodshed a dragon could wreck.

Lamian quickly glanced to the side before answering her. Cloud Haetae was nearby. Hiding behind one of the fountains that no longer was running (there was no need for water there, its purpose had been purely aesthetical). Curious about the situation, but not comfortable enough to come out fully.

“My statement remains unchanged.” They insisted. “If you wish to fight each other for useless measurements of strength, do it elsewhere. Not at the Ivory Pagoda.”

“What if we were to fight in one of the abandoned Dumplings Kingdoms? Are those empty husks sacred as well?”

They felt Mystic Flour move slightly. But she said nothing. In the end Dumpling Kingdoms were empty. Partially eaten by time. In eras to come time would be more cruel. Only later maybe they would be inhabited again. Long after she and her other companions would be gone. Inhabited by species perhaps different than Dumplings, by those who would know naught of Virtues or Beasts.

But about the future she cared not. That was not her purpose. It was to guide others towards the end of the current era. To liberate those trapped in the current cycle. The cycle to come afterwards? The future that was so distant? It was not hers to decide. It was nobody's to decide.

It was not hers to decide what happened to the remains of Dumpling Kingdoms.

Lamian didn’t answer Nutmeg Tiger’s question. “Where’s your messenger? Lately he has been here every time.” They asked the Legion instead.

That Fae always arrived here. Despite his dislike of apathy. Despite his dislike for Ghee’s uncaring nature for his own achievements. What a pitiful being. Putting so much value in one’s self.

“That is unimportant.” One of the soldiers answered shortly. “We’re here to pick up resources as established. That’s all that should matter.”

For people who valued silence – both in literal and metaphorical sense – they really wanted quite a lot of blackpowder. Quite a loud thing, very unsafe if handled without care (oh, but how beautiful it looked up in the sky…). And it didn’t fit quite well with how the Legion worked. It caused too much mess, too much noise… however, on the seas. Away from the land hunted by the spirits of the fallen… Land of Silence did have access to the sea and a functional harbor.

“Very, well.” Lamian Dragon nodded. “I will show the way.”

-----

In a way, the resources of the ships could be just stored anywhere. Wherever the closest it was. However, Lamian did like the order. Keeping things organized, running neatly. Even if there was no more reason for it. Whenever there was a harvest, they stored the food in kingdoms or villages in which they were harvested. Easier to keep track of things, and if needed the few inhabited villages behind the mountains, could take what they needed. Those storages always remained open. That food was nobody’s. Them and Cloud Haetae needed mostly meat in their diet anyway. Fruit, vegetables or grain were mostly a nice treat, which they ate rarely. Ghee did need to eat those things, and his rations were measured. He was just a single man, he didn’t need much. And then there was Mystic Flour. Regardless of her state – she had no need for mortal urges. And since she didn’t need to eat, she felt like others should have the said food. Therefore, whoever needed it, they could just take it.

The resources from the ships were kept in the Shrimp Kingdom. The one on the west side of the Flour Ridge. Despite being located in mountains, it was on the lower, more even valleys. The palace was the only thing truly located in the mountains. The places had easy access not only to the sea but also to the river… although the residents had used to be wary of that one. Although it was called a river, it was more of a creek… a creek of the ‘Yogurt River’ from the Spire. Here it was more water than yogurt. The white color of it was almost fully gone, and fish did swim in it even now… still the others had stayed away from it. They had heard the gossip of the Yogurt River of Rebirth. A magic water source that drowned everything in it.

It was quite funny, because that had come from miscommunication. The Dragon remembered very well how the Flour of Volition had invited Fount of Knowledge for tea and to explain to Cookies and Dumplings alike that there was no need to fear the creek. And The Fount had explained it to them. Successfully even, much to his own surprise. For that creek was in fact not a part of the infamous Yogurt River in any way or form. The creek was part of the Skim Milk River. A river that had no magic properties. Simply full of milk instead of water, therefore due to its white color it was easily confused with the actual Yogurt River. It was in fact actually easy to distinguish them: milk had similar consistency to the water, yogurt however was much thicker. Additionally, yogurt had a very distinctive smell. Milk? A bit but not as much.

Still… residents of the mountains had been a more superstitious bunch. Hence all the luck charms, all the many festivals and the rituals. People had been overly highly aware of the fate, and therefore had done a lot to either bend it to their will, or to avoid any bad omens. So they had kept on avoiding the river anyway. At least they had been no longer panicking whenever they had seen someone actually using the river. Each region had some sort of water trade. Those who hailed from Fount’s region had no access to the sea or ocean. But they had one normal river, and they had used it as much as they could.

Either way, because of Shrimp Kingdom’s connection to the ocean, it was most fitting to relocate any resources from the ship there. It was the most adjusted for such things, even if the current technology of marine voyages was much better than what the forgotten kingdom was used to.

Lamian guided both groups of the armies through the kingdom. Plenty of carts pulled by horses or Saffron Buffalos were in the back. There had been a whole lot more soldiers waiting outside of the Ivory Pagoda. Inside there had been only a handful. Reasonable, those ships had been big, and therefore a lot could be taken. Both Legion and the Swarm would be back soon enough. They couldn't take everything at once.

The Shrimp Kingdom looked worn by time. There was no more flour. After millennia the wind had carried it over to the other parts of continents and beyond. Spreading the enlightenment almost unknowingly. The flour was just flour. It didn't contaminate the water. It didn't ruin crops. But to any sentient beings? It exposed them to the liberty that was apathy. Didn't immediately grant it. But made others experience it smoother.

There were many decorations from the last festival still around. Many paper lanterns resembling sea creatures. There were also some of the Dragons. Not of Lamian, though. These ones were of Sea dragons… quite an introverted bunch. There were the most lanterns of Azure Koi Dragon and Eel Dragon. Those two had been more likely to interact, although the former had done that rarely. Lamian tried to remember which festival it had been at the time to cause all these ornaments.

Not a Ghost Festival. That had been Mystic Flour's first major blessing, her first public appearance after she had decided to share her kindness with the world. Mass enlightenment. It did turn to flour countless villages, and almost the entire Meat Kingdom of the West… but that still had left three other Dumpling Kingdoms. From there people either had run away, or accepted her ways and continued with Mystic Flour’s new teachings. Lamian remembered one of the Cookies in particular from one of the kingdoms… they later became a bishop of sorts, traveling further into the land to spread the word… too eager that one in their opinion.

A few soldiers walked slower. With curiosity observing the different architecture. How it was often symmetrical and horizontal. When there were taller buildings they never had four floors, either less or more than that. In Shrimp Kingdom there were many decorative ocean motifs. On the pillars, on the walls. Motifs of koi carps, of shrimps, of waves, of pearls. But most importantly–

“You had other Dragons here.”

Nutmeg Tiger Cookie stated as they all were passing by the fountain sculpture. It was large and made out of marble. It depicted two dragons indeed. Both young and in Cookie forms. One a child and one a younger teen. There were also two sculptures of Mystic Flour. The entire thing depicted two related events.

The first scene showed the saving of the Azure Koi Dragon. It had been so long ago. The prince had gone for a swim as a fish and got too close to the fishermen by accident. Ignorant fools would have slaughtered the poor teenager if Ivory Lady hadn't been around at the time. Feeling the unjust suffering of the other.

The second scene depicted how a different dragon, Eel Dragon, was approved as one of Volition’s students and acolytes. Azure’s younger sister. A bright beam of light, that one, even if she had been a bit snarky at times. Cloud Haetae had liked her a lot. She often had played with them, before she had been enlightened by Mystic Flour. How silly of Lamian. To be even slightly jealous of a child they had been watching over… at least the girl had been spared from watching the misery of the world she would have to grow up in.

“We had.” Lamian answered shortly. Not in the mood to go down the memory lane. At least not when surrounded by all the visitors.

“... Has Azure visited during my absence?”

Mystic Flour spoke quietly to not be heard. Others already couldn't see her from underneath the veil. It was alright by Lamian. After Mystic Flour's cocoon had been attacked she had developed a dislike towards interactions with crowds. Not fully against it, as she was willing to do it if she deemed it necessary or important enough. But she did prefer to talk with one person, maybe two, at the time. And for now there was no need to show herself to the public. But it was better to keep an eye on the visitors.

Lamian shortly nodded their head. Azure Koi Dragon had visited the Ivory Pagoda after the imprisonment of Mystic Flour and other Beasts. Beings of the sea… they had a natural dislike towards land dwellers. The ocean ruled itself by different rules than lands. A whole different world down there. But Azure owed his entire life to Mystic's act of kindness. It would have been outrageous to not show gratitude, to not pay respects after what had seemed like Mystic Flour's demise.

“Where have they gone now? Have they not protected the villages? Do they not consider it their territory?”

Many points could be made against Wild Spices, but they were not stupid. They paid attention to history and learned from the mistakes of their ancestors to grow stronger. The attacks at the Villages of Flour Ridge were common knowledge nowadays. It was also common knowledge that Kala Namak had been presented and helped resolve the issue, but they still had been late. The worst had already happened.

Nutmeg Tiger Cookie’s questioning was not due to calling out the other dragons’ inaction. Although anyone younger, more emotional than Lamian would possibly fall for what she was saying. Because those two had been esteemed guests. One had even been a member. To question when they stood wasn't wrong. But justice or whatever other noble thing was not her goal. It was to find out a possible foe. Dragon was a low but mighty creature. It was a strategic thing to do. To know if any of them could be a factor.

“Eel Dragon has achieved enlightenment, and Azure Koi Dragon doesn't meddle with affairs of land dwellers unless directly asked or if it affects him personally.”

Lamian found no problem with answering the question. None of these things were sensitive information. Just maybe not wildly known. Finding information on any Dragons… given how many there were and how they didn’t like to talk about themselves – it could be hard.

And there were many dragons. Both sapient ones – capable of speech and abstract thought – and the ones closer to animals in intellect. There were Dragons who could be classified into specific tribes or groups. Like fruit dragons or floral dragons. And there were minorities like Lamian whose ingredients were noodles, or like sea dragons who were more like fish.

There were a lot of semantics regarding relationships and hierarchy… semantics Lamian no longer bothered to keep track of or cared about. Why should they? They haven't been an emperor for a few eras now. The Dragon from Aromalice forest haven't shown themselves in centuries. They could be dead for all the Lamian knew or cared, and it really wouldn't change a thing. They had reached the end of their cycle, and Lamian would do as well.

The hierarchy can be put together and reshaped as times comes and goes. At some point there was no longer need to worry about something they were no longer part of. The Imperial Dragon was merely an old legend now, and it was something they liked. They could be remembered that way. Not like it would matter in another thousands of years.

Ah… speaking of legends.

“Any noise coming from the Aromalice Forest? It is in the Land of Wild Spice.”

Lamian sounded heavily unbothered while asking the questions. They just continued to lead the soldiers forward. The storage building was nearby. They could already see the roof. The roof tiles were worn by rain and were now bleak, their bright colors long gone.

Nutmeg Tiger huffed. Seemingly annoyed by the question, or mayhaps at the answer she was about to give.

“Nothing left but bones. Pathetic, for such a giant being to go out so quietly.” The click of her claws against the bricks of the road accompanied each of her words. Emphasizing her anger or sheer distaste. Because how dare a creature so mighty succumb to death so easily. Pathetic.

Lamian opened their mouth to speak but it quickly snapped shut. A minor pain in their neck. In a place where they were missing a few scales, where they had fallen out due to the blessing. They twisted their head, glancing at the white spider. Mystic Flour bit them.

Well, an easy enough message to understand. They were supposed to keep their mouth shut. They would talk later. Reasonable request. Better to not file up Wild Spices. Just give the armies what they needed and get them to leave.

It barely took them all a few more minutes to arrive at the storage. The Dragon easily opened the heavy double doors. They weren't even locked. The light entered the inside of the building.

The place was full to the brim. Countless barrels of black powder. Gathered alongside one of the walls, one barrel on another. Boards from the ships stacked and tied together. Sails rolled up and hang above. Those metal things, canons and the ammunition for them was there as well.

It was not the only storage. Just one of many. It was not the first time any of the armies came for resources, and it wouldn't be the last one. They couldn't take everything all at once. They would be back in a week or two. The ships arriving every two months made up for a great source of goods to others.

The Dragon took a place on a bench. On the opposite side of the street. It got them a view on how soldiers of both groups worked. Carefully loading their carts with equipment, securing it for the travel.

Lamian was seating on the bench with their legs crossed, how one would sit to meditate. Their rusty glaive was resting on their legs. As if it was no weapon, just a simple staff. They felt Mystic Flour move higher. Climbing up their neck and hair ever higher. Stopping near their ear. They restrained themselves from flicking their ear on instinct.

“Will you go on pilgrimage?” Mystic Flour changed a language. Speaking in Flourian. Probably to give the conversation a semblance of privacy.

“... No, I don't think I will.” Lamian answered her in Flourian as well. A whisper, as to not draw the attention of soldiers. If anything, they looked and sounded like they were repeating a mantra of sorts.

Dragons didn't really travel to pay respects to others. If one of them died, then they simply died. There was a reason why often dragon skeletons could be found on Earthbread. Half in ground, half overgrown, reclaimed by nature. If a Dragon died it simply opened a room for a territory to claim. If a Dragon got a burial it was not by their own kind but by other people who lived close to them, who were under their influence.

“Aromalice forest probably still has their scent. Still their territory.”

Dragon of Aromalice Forest wasn't… hadn't been an evil being. But they had been a territorial and greedy creature. A quality of many, many Dragons. They couldn't be really blamed for it. They had often treated any conflicts like a game, even if they had started them themselves. Often had arrived in the past to start trouble, or challenged Lamian to a fight over the pearl. Lamian wasn't even sure if they had a full knowledge of the object, or if they had used it as an excuse. While Aromalice Dragon had liked shiny things, they had often preferred fleeting pleasures and entertainment over riches.

They had been younger than the Lamian. At least good five centuries younger than them. Always loud, making themselves bigger than the mountains. Trying to be the main attraction. But always keeping quiet whenever something was actually wrong. As if nothing was happening at all.

It was not a surprise they had gone out quietly. Lamian would rather not see their corpse now. They had done everything to get remembered as loud, boastful, alive. Lamian Dragon could remember them like that.

“And Cloud Haetae still has trouble hunting goats.”

They were good at hunting sheep. That was good. Because sheep could be troublesome. The rams with their strong horns. And sheep’s wool was at times so dense it could be hard to land a bite of slice of claws. Not hard for a dragon, obviously. But for young Haetae? Quite a challenge. But for such a young creature (or young for its kind at least) it was doing great.

Goats however… Those were a bit more troublesome. They still struggle to consistently get them to paralyze. It didn't help either that goats were absolute menaces aiming to be reborn as evil spirits. Chaotic creatures. They could perhaps take Haetae the next day for another hunting lesson.

Mystic Flour made a short hissing noise. Lamian Dragon could only compare it to the click of a tongue. She didn't exactly like the idea of hunting after all, although she did understand the need for it.

Flour of Volition already hadn't eaten much. Almost nothing. Always preached of pacifism. To limit violence towards any living being. And that extended towards animals and bugs.

Of course, not everyone could just abandon eating meat. Meat and Shrimp Dumpling Kingdoms couldn't. Dumplings had to keep their ingredients stable, and it was easy for it to drop severely at times. Meat Dumplings had to consume meat, and Shrimp ones obviously needed shrimps or shellfishes at least. If there was a demand a supply had to be provided. If there was a need for a supply, there was a demand for jobs. Ranchers, fishermen, huntsmen.

A similar case applied to Lamian Dragon and Cloud Haetae. Both of them were sapient beings. Beings close to nature who couldn't fully go against the primal restraints.

Haetaes need a whole lot of meat. Especially a growing one. One of a few reasons why Ghee even bothered to still go hunting or took care of jade rabbits (although he only killed the old ones. Still too attached, poor soul). And Lamian was a dragon, enormous to one at that. Staying in more cookie shaped form was a choice of both preference and convenience. Whenever they were in their dragon form they were starving. As Cookie, hunger was easier to deal with. But they still needed to eat. A lot. There rarely was a cattle to hunt in these mountains.

Their mind for a moment switched to the memories of the past few months. When they had to take care of the ships in Ghee's absence. The screams of the crew, the sound of wooden ships snapping in Lamian’s jaw as if they had been merely toys. Small boats to watch sailing down a river, full of tin soldiers to complete the look. Those tin soldiers either already turned to flour or one step away from dying anyway. The smell of tempting sweetness as Lamian's stomach had kept on growling in hunger.

They hadn't eaten them. Obviously. Would be too sinful, sapient beings. Didn't change the fact they did remember a taste. Never had had a full meal, just… just a taste. Cookies taste different. Every single one of them. So many different ingredients. But blood was always the same. Every single time, the same metallic yet sweet taste.

Witches, how they loathed being in a full dragon form.

“Has the Jester been here yet?”

The different voice and the question snapped them back to reality. They moved their head. Their eyes now stared at the general of Spice Swarm. Nutmeg Tiger’s ears were slightly pulled back. Clearly annoyed by the entire situation, whatever it was.

“Precise your question.” They got a huff in reply. A loud one but not yet a hiss. What a temper. Lamian decided to continue. “Shadow Milk Cookie has been here on multiple occasions in his long lifespan. I cannot give you a concrete answer."

“Was he here recently?” An underlying growl. Her tail started to swing back and forth. Irritation. Anger.

“No.” They answered simply.

Why would he visit? There was no need for that. That jester had shown up once, around two weeks after Mystic Flour had been brought to the Ivory Pagoda by the Silent Knight. He had seemed… maybe disappointed. Hard to say, honestly. Shadow Milk upon seeing Mystic in a small spider form instead of a cookie one had a very blank expression. No joking, no annoyance, no anything. Just a very neutral expression, and a blank stare.

He had exchanged a few, but ultimately unimportant, words with Mystic Flour, and had said his goodbyes. He hasn’t visited the Flour Ridge since. Neither did any of his followers. Not like it was a problem.

Nutmeg Tiger's fur seemed to almost bristle. Her animal ears were still pulled back, and her tail was still moving. She started to bare her teeth.

Ah. Here was the Wild Spice. Loosing it, giving in to the fickle emotions. She was probably the most patient of the generals of Spice Swarm so far. But she was still one of them. And for centuries violence, power and anger had been rewarded in their lands. She might keep all her people in check, for whatever reason. But nature ran deep. And nature was a beautiful, gruesome thing.

“He was supposed to have talked things through! Either him or Black Sapphire!” She was loud. Not yet reaching the volume of a full roar, but close.

“I have seen that radio host twice in my life, and I remember his scent very well. I can assure you that none of them have been here.”

That guy might have been created in Spire, but his scent was overly sweet. Even when he had tried to mask it with various perfumes or disguises. That sweetness became faint but was always present. Sickly sugary grapes. Not a smell that could be ever found in the Spire normally. Garden of Delights was a better shot. Always full of fruit that could make teeth rot. Too sweet, too unhealthy, but so addictive one just kept on reaching for another.

“Forsaken gnats, both of them!”

They watched the woman walk off. Her claws clicking against the bricks. Scrapping against it angrily. Fingers of her free hand were twitching. Itching to cast a fire spell. To see something break. To have an outlet.

The dragon straightened themselves up. They grabbed their glaive. But they didn't stand up yet. Their tail wrapped tight around the pearl. They narrowed their eyes.

“Don't you dare cast a fireball in here.”

Her head snapped towards them. Her pupils fixated on their shining eyes. She raised her hand. And as if to challenge them, in a second a ball of fire appeared above it. A nutmeg fireball. Materialized but not yet casted.

“Or what.” She tilted her head to the side. “The only rule presented was not to fight in Ivory Pagoda. This is not the Pagoda.”

Other soldiers stopped in their tracks. Well not exactly. They were basically finished with loading up the carts. They were backing away. If it came to the worst they didn’t want the materials destroyed. Soldiers of the Silent Legion had their eyes narrowed. Judgemental. As if they were free of blood.

The soldiers of the Swarm however were observing with curiosity. Some, more anxious, seemed worried but kept watching as well.

“Let her have this outlet. If she wants to damn herself to return in the next cycle as a restless spirit, let her do so.” Mystic Flour said quietly. Still in Flourian. Not really caring if any damage was to happen to the place. It had lost its meaning a long time ago.

But the Dragon didn’t listen. A deeper part, a primitive part they loathed, was getting loud. They knew this place had already ran its course. They knew they had outlived it a long time ago. They knew it had already fallen. But that primitive part was a territorial one.

It was easier to ignore it when they couldn’t see what was happening around. But they could see. And they were seeing the fireball, and a lot of buildings that would soon go up in flames. That primitive part was loud.

The dragon stood up from the bench. They grip on the glaive firn. They heard Mystic Flour sigh but she said nothing. Not caring for what they did, but clearly disappointed to some extent with this outcome. But it was just a minor feeling. It would pass quickly enough.

“Is destruction the only way for you to control your anger?”

“Survival of the fittest is the rule of nature.” Nutmeg Tiger squared up her shoulders. She almost sounded heavily offended. That out of everyone a dragon was asking her this. “It's the strongest who prevail, and it must be shown in every action! Even in death our ancestors keep on raising the spice storms, showing their rage and strength!” There was a huff. “So either watch this building burn down, or fight me if you care so much about this grave of a kingdom.”

Of course, how could they forget? Not a lack of control over herself. This was a deeply rooted belief that has existed in her land for centuries. So not exactly a weak heart. A strong one but full of rot. That was actually worse. What a pitiful being.

Lamian Dragon rolled their eyes. But they changed their grip on the glaive. Their tail fully wrapped around the pearl. The object was almost not visible anymore.

“Not here.” They nodded their head towards the storage. “You haven't taken everything yet, and there's still a lot of black powder. I don't need a massive explosion.”

Nutmeg Tiger's ears flicked. But there was a shine in her eyes. And her grimace quickly turned into a grin. Showing plenty of her sharp teeth. Perfect for biting and ripping out flesh.

-----

The carts stayed behind. Of course some soldiers were left with it, to guard in case someone would try stealing anything. Lamian wasn't sure if that was because of the distrust between two armies despite them actively trading. Or if it was due to other outside reasons, because the Silent Legion was particularly stern on that.

“I'm not healing you if you get hurt.” They heard Mystic Flour in their ear.

That was okay. They didn't expect her to. Not in the state that she was. And not when they were bringing this fight upon themselves. They had only themselves to blame.

They were in one of the Shrimp Kingdom’s plazas. Back in the day a market had been here. Many stands with countless goods. Mostly fish, but not only. They remembered seeing a lot of lovely jewelry made from ocean amber.

There was a lot of space for a fight here. A lot of place for soldiers to sit and watch from. Because of course they did. Best entertainment in existence. Watching two people best up each other. Violence was always marketable, never went out of fashion.

There was a ring drawn on the floor. With one of the sharp rocks that lied around. The circle was uneven and wobbly. It didn't matter. It was temporary anyway. Rule was only one rule. Don't kill each other. Though that still seemed to frustrate Nutmeg Tiger. That she cannot go all out. Lamian was certain she didn't expect to succeed with such an idea. Wild Spices know their limits. They can destroy and plunder civilizations to the point it gets turned into dust. But killing a Dragon takes more preparation, more precision, more power. She was simply mad she couldn't fully show off. The Spices did like to show their strength.

"Well?! What are you wasting time for?!”

They rolled their eyes at Nutmeg’s yelling. She was already in that circle. Stepping from paw to paw. To be able to go straight into rhythm, to not lose a tempo in a fight.

The dragon was slightly fumbling with their changshan. The golden robe could get damaged in the fight, could get dirty in blood. Yes, it was just a cloth but… someone had woven it. Someone had dyed it yellow. And it was silk. Not only an expensive material, but one that requires death of smaller beings to make. Somebody’s labor should be respected. A sacrifice that has been made should be respected.

They undid the buttons of the silken robe. Gently took it off and folded carefully. It left them in white cotton clothes they wore underneath. A long sleeved shirt and loose pants tightly tied. Cotton was a plant, and plants couldn't feel. Plants were not sentient. It was somebody's work too, yes. And if it got damaged or dirty Lamian would clean it and sew it up. But between the two, it was better for the silken robe to be spared.

They grabbed their glaive and walked towards the circle. The metal scrapping against the bricks. An awful noise to the ears.

Nutmeg Tiger was already on alert. Already watching the way they moved their body, how they held themselves. Their arms were tense but the rest of the posture was relaxed, almost lazy. They were slouching a bit.

Her eyes for a moment fixated on one place in particular. Where their collarbones met. Or should meet. There was a hole, normally not seen because of the high neck of the yellow robe. The hole was not that big and circular. Like it could fit an object inside. Her eyes darted to their tail. It still held the pearl, refusing to part with it.

She didn't have that much knowledge about dragons. It was hard to acquire. Given these lizards rarely shared their secrets with outsiders. And out of three dragons that had been on Beast-Yeast, only two were native to the continent. And the last alive Dragon of Beast-Yeast was standing right in front of her.

But what she did know was that some Dragons had gems in their bodies and some didn't. It was one of the more commonly known things. She didn't know what determined the existence of the gem, but it was unimportant. What was important was that Lamian Dragon had their gem removed. Only carried it like a prized trinket. So they were not at their full power, and the pale ailment was already weakening then.

The fight would still be very one sided. She knew that from the beginning. But how often does one get a chance to fight a dragon? The Imperial Dragon? A fight is never lost if one survives. She might not win but she will survive a fight. And if she gets hurt? Why, those will be scars full of stories!

She hasn't been this excited in the long while.

The dragon and the tiger stood in front of each other. A second passed. Then two. Then three. Then there was a clap, a signal to start.

Then there was metal clashing.

The Dragon was surprisingly fast and agile. Given their age, the pale ailment, and the lack of fighting with a weapon. Always moving. Rising up as much dust as possible to obscure Nutmeg Tiger's vision. They moved similar to snakes, to cobras she was so familiar with. Side to side. Wavy, slithering movement.

But there were mistakes. They made them.

Their shoulders were weirdly tense. Not relaxed, not using their full movement. They sometimes stuttered. Like they couldn't catch air. They sometimes were coughing. And they constantly aimed for Nutmeg Tiger's shield. Clearly not aiming to actually hurt her.

Nutmeg Tiger however did aim to hurt. To at least scratch a scale. To at least leave a tear in the clothes. Because even while she was going to lose, she wanted some sort of personal win.

At first she mostly blocked. Getting used to the movement. To adapt, to not waste any future blows. To catch when the good openings could be. Then she attempted a few experimental blows. Not with full strength. Just to see how they blocked. The dragon would either move to the side or back, and then immediately attack from above.

Another mistake they made was that they seemed like they were somewhat distracted by bright things. Because something silver shined from the side, and their eyes darted there for a short moment. Perhaps their eyes got sensitive from the sickness. Maybe they were one of hoarding dragons, and shiny things got their attention easily. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that they could be distracted.

There was a rhythm to that fight. If they attacked from above Nutmeg Tiger would block with her shield, the sound echoing around. As if someone hit the kong. If they got down and struck from below (be it with their tail or with the glaive), she would need to jump above it. She attacked with her sharp nails. The gilded steel shining brightly. Making them move to the side or back. Just to attack again. And it started all over again. It kept going like a violent dance.

Until Nutmeg Tiger finally casted a fire spell.

It wasn't very destructive. There weren't enough elements to make it spread. To make it devour. The spell was just to make flames appear on the ground for a moment. Just to make the sparks fly up. To break the rhythm. To force an opening for her.

They were startled. The dragon flinched, tensed up. Their eyes were wide open. Their pupils became thin slits. The sudden brightness, the sudden heat. Almost as if it did hurt them. Almost as if they were afraid of it.

They backed away. Faster. Almost impulsively. They struck with their glaive from above. Harder than before.

Nutmeg Tiger lifted herself up. She stood on her hind legs. Making herself taller. She raised her shield up. Blocking the attack much earlier.

The sound was loud. It echoed like all the previous blocks.

She raised her empty hand and swiped it in front of their face. The metal of the claws swiftly cut through the air. It didn't reach the Dragon's face. But it reached the veil of their hat. The delicate fabric was torn. If it was any lower being this damage would be insignificant. But here it felt like a small victory.

Nutmeg Tiger’s smile stretched wide. Showing many of her sharp teeth.

The dragon backed away. To the very border of the drawn circle. They lowered themselves to the ground. Their hand covered their face where it was exposed. The glaive was gripped tightly. As if that shaft was about to be snapped in half.

Their left eye was still visible, glowing from underneath the veil of the hat. It snapped quickly towards the tigress. Nutmeg's smile dropped.

The dragon leaped. Towards her. Swift, fast movement. The sheer weight pushed her down on her back. Her red eyes stared back at the two golden ones. She could see half of their face. It was wrong. There were parts of flesh missing. A whole lot of their teeth were exposed. At the edges where the exposed muscles met scales there was flour. Slowly falling off. Getting into the flesh, and slightly irritating it.

Those infected with pale ailment usually turned all pale. Slowly turning into flour more and more before they started to actually fall apart. Getting internally accustomed to the idea of death and salvation before they crumbled. However, it clearly wasn’t always the case.

The glaive was stabbed into the ground. Next to her head. She heard the metal shatter from the impact. A few loose pieces cut her cheek. Their free hand grabbed onto the ruby she had attached to her clothing with gilded straps. They pulled it forward, slightly raising her upper part from the ground.

And they immediately pushed it down along with her. The sudden and violent contact with the pavement hurt. Her entire back ached. A few loose pieces of gravel scrapped the skin.

Then they did it again. There was exploding pain in the back of her head. Nutmeg Tiger felt her hair getting wet. The back of her neck was wet. She already started to pick up the strong scent of iron.

They pulled once more.

“Lamian Dragon, enough.”

The tigress didn’t know where the female voice came from, but the dragon immediately stopped. They let go of her and she was dropped back again. Just not as harshly. She breathed in and out. It was slightly painful. Thank Witches, there seemed to be no issue with her lungs or heart. Just mostly her back and the occiput hurt.

Then there was a slow clapping sound. There was that shine again, that one she had seen in the corner of her eye during the fight. The one that was slightly distracting the dragon. With a groan she turned her head around to see who was making the noise. The sight made her blood boil, and gave her enough adrenaline to make her forget the pain.

Lamian Dragon turned their hat around. So the veil would still cover their face, while the ripped part was at the back. They looked away from Nutmeg Tiger as they still held her pinned down. Their broken glaive was still in the ground next to her head. The fight stopped per Mystic Flour's order. They looked to the side. Where they heard the clapping noise.

And there he was. Legion’s messenger. With his shining silver wings. Lamian let go of Nutmeg Tiger as they straightened up. They paid no mind to the angered woman.

“It is truly a spectacle, watching a Dragon fight. Even if it's only against a Wild Spice.”

“You gnat!” The general of Swarm shouted at him. She picked herself up. A huge blood stain was left where she was lying. But she showed no signs of confusion, and all her movements were still precise. “How dare you minimize the significance of this fight?!”

There was a bit of murmur among the two armies. Calling somebody a gnat was a common curse word on Beast-Yeast. However, calling a Faerie that… it bordered on a territory that could be considered too offensive.

The messenger narrowed his eyes. His ears flickered. “Why an angry face, pussycat? I thought you're proud of your species.” There was a bite in his voice. But his words were too dragged out. Too slow.

Lamian looked the Fae up and down. He held himself properly. No slouching, no twitching, nothing. But the pupils of his eyes were too big, too wide. And there was no garlic scent around him, but something sweet instead. Just not as sharp anymore. Ah, he came here straight from the Garden of Delights it seems. That explained why it would take him so long to show up. Getting out of there could be a hassle, and while still being under influence of the Garden’s air? The Dragon wouldn’t be surprised if the fae had to take a few breaks, because everything was just too bright for them currently.

“Your comrades were here before you, Arsenic Cookie.” Lamian Dragon pointed out. They were curious what he would say. If he would admit it or if he had been instructed to not say, for whatever reason.

“Well, sadly there were some unforeseen… issues nearby Gooey Coast, but that has been resolved by now.” Only could say he was near paradise, but couldn’t precise why. “Did you load up all the carts?” He asked as he turned his head around.

The couple of soldiers from Legion nodded their heads. The people quickly started to walk away from the gathering. To get to the carts, and leave the place as quickly as possible. After seeing the dragon actually getting angry, even if just slightly, they didn’t want to see how far it was actually willing to go. How much damage it was willing to inflict if not ordered to stop.

“Well, it seems like the Legion will be departing now.” The Fae slightly bowed. A form of respect albeit a clearly rushed one. He didn’t manage to fly away even a meter before he was stopped.

“Halt, messenger.” A female voice called out.

Arsenic stopped dead in his tracks. He turned his head around. He watched how a white spider crawled up the brim of the Dragon’s weimao. Oh. Great. That’s exactly what he needed. As if he didn’t have to check up on two deliveries already. Well, at least the general was in charge of the delivery from the Paradise.

The faerie fully turned around. Hands folded behind his back, head raised high. Awaiting any commands or information. Whether he would say anything or actually follow the given order would depend whether it was in Salt Flatlands favor. Usually in their favor was not getting themselves involved in other regions’ business. Sadly, as of late the entire continent was involved in various matters.

“Your associate asked whether Shadow Milk or any of his followers had shown here recently.” Mystic Flour watched how the Fae glanced at Nutmeg Tiger for a short second as she walked past him. His brows slightly furrowed in concern, as she applied the pressure to the back of her head, successfully stopping the bleeding. Despite the pain the fighter seemed satisfied with herself. “May I know why his presence was expected?”

“I apologize, Master of the Pagoda, but I must decline the answer.” The fae spoke carefully. Weighing his words. Trying to keep conversation as short and as precise as possible. “However, I can ask the general whether to inform the Fool himself that he failed to follow through with his own idea.”

Mystic waited for a moment. Her eight eyes slowly blinked. “That would be highly appreciated,” she finally said. ”You’re excused.”

This time the Fae fully bowed. He waited a moment before straightening himself and flying away. Be it to catch up to his squad, or to the tigress. It didn’t matter neither to Mystic Flour nor to the dragon. It walked off slowly, as they heard how in the background the last of the carts were being moved by the Wild Spices. They paid them no mind. The dragon first walked back to grab their yellow robe. After putting it on again, they started to leave the kingdom.

Mystic Flour moved to the back of their hat. Where the tear in the vail was. She slowly lowered herself on the silken string. Carefully but slowly sowing it back together. They were quiet for a long while, as the dragon walked them back to the Ivory Pagoda. It would be a long walk back, they probably would arrive late in the night.

“If you must follow your instinct, I’d advise you to utilize it against something more dangerous than one of Wild Spices.” Mystic finally broke the silence between them.

If they still cannot fully give up such instincts… they can at least try to control them. Make use of it where it truly mattered, rather than wasting it on such inconsequential disputes. At least until salvation would finally reach them.

They didn’t really replied to her statement. Only hummed in response. It sounded somewhat annoyed. Old, grumbling lizard.

“... We should play dominoes.” It stated offhandedly. Not wanting to talk about the fight. Not wanting to think about it.

Mystic Flour could respect and honour that. There was no reason to drag it out. Such a conversation wouldn’t give much of a result anyway. The actions had already been done, the fight had happened, no taking it back now. However, regarding the new topic at hand…

“You’re not teaching Cloud Haetae how to play Pai Gow,” she said. Not stopping her work for a moment. “Mystic Flour…”

“You can gamble with the archer once he’s back. If you’re so bored, the three of us can play mahjong.”

“... You’re so certain of his return?” They had honestly made peace with the idea that the huntsman might never be seen in Beast-Yeast ever again.

“He’s apathetic, but he still holds attachments. I don’t believe him immortal or eternal. I don’t think he’s powerful or even brave, despite shooting down an elemental. But I believe him to be stubborn.” She answered simply. “He’s a common man. And a common man dies on the same soil he was born on.”

Oh, on that description they could fully agree with. His belief in apathy was strong and his situation in particular was truly extraordinary. But the archer had many traits of a common villager from these mountains. Even down to some habits born out of superstitions. Like skipping number four when counting. Or never leaving chopsticks in any dish, because it looked like incense for the dead.

Still. They couldn’t really picture Ghee coming back. They could do a fortune reading to check, though.

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