Toranjelit was one of Olasird’arc’s children by Munuinia. In terms of raw strength, he was the best among his offspring.
“But things will turn out poorly if you don’t think. If you send out your child — who might kill the Quagoa for no reason — who knows what they’ll end up doing?”
“That’s enough.”
Olasird’arc halted Munuinia, who was about to say something, and then looked at Mianatalon’s face. She seemed to find all this squabbling terribly boring.
“Let’s go with Kilystran’s idea and call Hejinmal over.”
“It’s no use. He won’t come.”
Olasird’arc sensed his plan falling apart right from the start.
Munuinia chuckled, a thin, unhappy sound. It would be troublesome if they argued again, and Olasird’arc raised his voice.
“Just break down the door or whatnot and drag him out.”
“Ara, I didn’t destroy your fortress because you asked me not to. Does that mean you’re giving me permission? Although, it may not just be the door that gets destroyed.”
Indeed, he remembered saying those words. While Dragons were skillful, they could not rebuild a door once destroyed, and they did not know magic which could do that. Therefore, if they destroyed something, they would leave it where it was.
As the White Dragon Lord, it would be a shame to live in a castle filled with holes. Therefore he had demanded his concubines and his offspring adhere to that rule.
Although his concubines would probably go if he ordered—
“It can’t be helped. I’ll go, then.”
“Please.”
Olasird’arc looked at Kilystran with an indescribable expression on his face.
The fact that he had to go in person despite being a Lord did not sit well with him. In response to that, should he allow a few Quagoa to live here and let them work for him?
However, Olasird’arc abandoned the many possibilities which appeared in his mind.
He could not bear the thought of having inferior lifeforms like the Quagoa running around his fortress. Someday, when he defeated the Giants, he would have them work for him as slaves.
Until then, he would have to bear with it.
When one considered the height of the Dwarves, their Royal Palace was of a staggering size. It was because it was so large that the Dragons could live here, and it was a long distance from one end to the other.
Olasird’arc climbed and climbed, until he reached the door on the highest level.
Then, he shouted:
“It’s me, open up.”
He waited for a while, but there was no movement from the other side of the door.
It was impossible that he was not in. The son who lived in this room was a hikkikomori[8]. He had not recalled him ever leaving his room. Even his meals were sent to him by his siblings.
It was deeply aggravating that he would dare pretend he was not in, in front of his own father, a Dragon Lord.
“I’ll say it again. It’s me. Open up.”
Dragons had very keen senses. The way he was shouting, anyone inside should have heard it, and they would have woken up even if they were sleeping.
However — the door did not open.
The anger which blazed up turned into motion.
He lashed out at the door with his tail.
Struck by a tail that was the size of a log and sheathed with scales that were harder than steel, the door creaked as it twisted. The Dwarves who had built this door had probably not expected it to take a Dragon’s tail slap.
There were signs of movement inside, but this was not enough to quell Olasird’arc’s anger.
He slammed the door again, breaking it half down. Shattered and scattered stones flew inside like buckshot.
A distasteful “Hieeeeee” came from within.
“Get out of there, right now!”
In response to the angry shout, a Dragon sprang up.
Frost Dragons had slender bodies, but not this one. Simply put, it looked obese.
It had a pair of tiny glasses on its nose, and it regarded Olasird’arc from head to toe with a nervous look in its eyes.
This was his son, but this shameful display made Olasird’arc sigh.
Well, given that he was standing in front of a ruler like himself, cringing and twitching like this was unavoidable. Still, he had hoped to see some strength in his own son’s eyes.
And then there was that disgusting fat body of his. He was more like a swine than a Dragon.
In truth, having to send a child like this out to fight on his behalf might damage his reputation.
As Olasird’arc contemplated this, his son — who seemed afraid of the way his father was staring right at him — ventured a question.
“F-father, what, what do you wish of me?”
That said, he might not be much of a Dragon, but he was still a Dragon. Dragons grew more powerful with age. With that in mind, perhaps even that flabby frame of his could still be of use.
“I have a job for you, Hejinmal.”
“A, a job?”
“Ahh. The Quagoa seem to have been invaded by the Dwarves or something. Repel them.”
“Hieee.”
“Hieee?”
“N-nothing. It’s nothing, Father. J-just, I, I’m, er, how shall I put this, I’m er, not very confident in my strength…”
“Then what are you confident in? Do you feel you can defeat the enemy with magic?”
Dragons slowly gained the ability to use arcane magic during their maturation, but those were little more than innate abilities. They could not be compared to magic casters at all. However, there were some Dragons who had learned to use actual magic.
For example, there was one of Olasird’arc’s own concubines, Kilystran=Denshushua. There was also one of the Republic’s Councillors, the “Blue Sky Dragon Lord” Suveria=Myronsilk, who had the powers of a druid and could use divine magic. It was also said that in the far east, there were Dragons who had attained the Paladin class and who could use magic from other systems.
“…Well, that’s one thing. I had to learn by myself because I had no mentor to teach me…”
“Then what the hell have you been doing in there all this while?”
There was a forceful gleam in Hejinmal’s eyes.
“Learning. I’ve been gathering knowledge.”
“…What? Knowledge? Weren’t you learning how to use arcane magic?”
“No, it’s not like that, Father. The knowledge I sought was not to use magic, but to further my studies, learn how this city was built, what sort of races live in this world and so on. I was learning about that sort of thing.”
“…I don’t understand at all. Does learning these things make you strong? None of that matters if you don’t become powerful.”
There was nothing more important in this world than becoming stronger. Since this was a world where only the strong survived, one needed to grow stronger to live. In contrast, one could say that not wanting to become strong was essentially rejecting life.
Just then, he spotted it. Hejinmal had tried to cover it up, but he saw that his son had done something, like a wordless gesture.
“What is it? Spit it out.”
His son remained silent. That disgraceful attitude of his made Olasird’arc flare up again.
Just as he was about to begin bellowing at him, he thought of why he had come here.
While he did not care what happened to the Quagoa, debts had to be paid.
“It doesn’t matter if you lock yourself up in your room until you lose your agility, but there’s no point losing yourself in books. If you want to acquire knowledge, leave this place and travel the world.”
Olasird’arc had already begun losing interest in Hejinmal. He had abandoned his body in exchanged for something utterly useless. There was nothing else he could say about this, and he had lost any semblance of concern for his own son.
“I, I was preparing for that. If I don’t know what sort of people there are in the world, I might die before I manage to see it.”
8
Hikikomori are reclusive adolescents or adults who withdraw from social life, often seeking extreme degrees of isolation and confinement.