For three consecutive days, Leylo had entered the abandoned mine at dawn, only to emerge at dusk, his face and clothes caked in grime and dust.
He had yet to find the Silver Dragon, but his efforts were not entirely in vain.
Deep within the shafts, he had discovered scattered fragments of magical beast bones, marred by jagged bite marks. It was clear that some sort of apex predator made its home here. Further in, he found animal droppings—dried, clotted, and emitting a faint, metallic odor laced with the sharp scent of sulfur.
"Empty-handed again?"
Beside the camp bonfire, Bolin's voice carried an unabashed sneer. He was scraping mud from his boots with a dagger, not even looking up as he spoke to the group of cynical veterans around him. "Our 'Lord' doesn't actually think he can squeeze gold out of cracks in the rocks, does he?"
A few of the veterans broke into low, derisive chuckles.
One of them chimed in, "Lord Bolin is right. This godforsaken place is like an icebox at night. We're eating dry rations and roasted game without so much as a drop of hot soup. If this continues, we'll freeze or starve to death long before any 'reclamation' actually happens."
"Keep it down!" another knight hissed, glancing warily at Ed's silhouette nearby. "If Captain Ed hears you, there'll be hell to pay."
At the mention of Ed, the grumbling instantly subsided. Knight Ed was like a silent iron tower, ever-vigilant and unwavering in his duty.
Ed, of course, had sensed the growing unrest permeating the ranks. Several times he had intended to speak with Leylo—to at least inquire why the Lord was so obsessed with surveying this derelict mine, if only to provide some solace to the men's hearts.
Leylo was far from oblivious to the undercurrents swirling within the camp.
However, he had neither the time nor the energy to soothe feelings or suppress dissent one by one. His objective was singular and absolute: to find the juvenile Silver Dragon rumored to be nesting here. Thus, he opted for the simplest solution.
He granted each man a bounty of five Gold Dragons and implemented a rotational shift, assigning five knights each day to scout for news in Blackstone Town. This "scouting" was, in truth, a disguised vacation for the resentful knights, allowing them a reprieve from the harsh mountains.
The system's intelligence was not omnipotent; at times, it provided only blurred fragments of information. These snippets were like marks on a treasure map—the actual location of the prize required his own digging to uncover. A disinherited noble status, a barren fief, a demoralized troop... Leylo understood his predicament all too well.
To shatter this deadlock and gain the capital needed to stand firm, he required a powerful catalyst. A juvenile Silver Dragon with limitless potential was undoubtedly the most crucial trump card he could seize.
A Dragon Knight!
The power and status represented by those two words were enough to silence anyone who dared to look down on him.
That evening, Leylo emerged from the mine once more. Pinched between his fingers was a small, hard, scale-like object that shimmered with a faint metallic luster—something he had discovered in a hidden crevice. The scale was tiny, its edges slightly worn, as if it had naturally sloughed off a creature.
He pocketed the item without a word, his expression remaining as calm as a placid lake. Dinner was roasted meat, as usual. Leylo sat by a campfire slightly removed from the crowd, with Ed sitting silently opposite him on guard duty.
Leylo picked up a skewer of sizzling, fatty magical beast meat and ate slowly, his gaze drifting toward the swaying shadows of the woods at the edge of the camp.
After three consecutive days of searching, he had practically turned the mine upside down. Aside from those bone fragments, droppings, and today's tiny scale, he had found nothing else. The target seemed to be hidden even deeper—or perhaps it didn't stay in the mine at all? He felt a flicker of frustration, but far more than that, he felt a stubborn refusal to yield. He had already come so far; to give up now was utterly out of the question.
The night deepened, and the chill grew sharper. Most of the knights had crawled into their rudimentary tents, leaving only the sentries on watch to pace through the freezing wind. Leylo remained by the campfire, the flames illuminating his youthful yet remarkably composed face.
He opened his palm, staring at the tiny scale. Under the firelight, it emitted a faint, silvery luster.
"Silver Dragon..." he whispered to himself, a flash of heat in his eyes. "Where exactly are you?"
Just then, a faint rustling sound emanated from a nearby thicket.
Leylo remained motionless, his peripheral vision darting toward the source of the noise. Ed, too, grew alert, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword. A moment later, a small, furry head poked out from the shadows of the bushes.
It was a feline creature, no larger than a common housecat. Its body was draped in long, snow-white fur, save for the tips of its ears and the end of its tail, which were accented with tufts of dark gray fuzz.
A pair of pale golden eyes flickered with a mix of curiosity and wariness under the firelight. It sniffed cautiously at the aroma of roasted meat permeating the air, its throat emitting a soft, low "purr."
A lynx?
Leylo was slightly surprised. These creatures typically inhabited the dense forests and snowfields further north; they were rarely seen in a region as barren as the Blackstone mountains. Furthermore, the pure, snow-white coat of this particular lynx was an exceedingly rare sight.
The little creature seemed intimidated by the bonfire and the strange humans. After poking its head out, it hesitated and pulled back, leaving only its darting eyes fixed intently on the skewer of dripping meat in Leylo's hand. Its longing gaze made it look as though it hadn't eaten in three days.
A thought struck Leylo. He slowly extended the meat toward it, his movements deliberate and gentle to avoid startling the timid creature.
The white-furred lynx tilted its head, seemingly weighing the intentions of this "two-legged being." The fragrance of the roasted meat continued to tease its olfactory nerves. After a moment of hesitation, it finally succumbed to temptation and stepped fully out of the thicket.
Moonlight and firelight bathed its form, accentuating its flawless, pristine fur. It approached the bonfire with cautious steps, stopping about three or four paces away from Leylo. Only after confirming there was no immediate danger did it stretch its neck, warily inching toward the meat in Leylo's hand.
Seeing this, Ed released the hilt of his sword, a faint, amused smile playing across his lips.
In this bleak and anxiety-ridden camp, the sudden appearance of such an adorable little creature served as a rare and welcome distraction.
Leylo tore off a small piece of meat—crispy on the outside, tender on the inside, and free of bone—and placed it on a flat stone beside him. Upon seeing this, the white-furred lynx darted forward, snatched the morsel in its mouth, and retreated swiftly to a safe distance before beginning to feast.
Its table manners were anything but refined; it gulped down the meat in a few quick bites and then looked back at Leylo expectantly. Amused by its gluttonous charm, Leylo felt the stifling irritation in his heart dissipate significantly. He simply placed the remaining half of the skewer onto the stone.
As if letting out a cheer, the little creature emitted a louder "purr" and pounced on the food without ceremony. This time, it ate even faster—like a whirlwind sweeping through clouds—quickly devouring the substantial portion of meat until not a scrap remained.
When finished, it licked its chops with lingering desire and even used its front paws to wipe its face.
"Looks like it was starving," Ed remarked in a low voice.
Over the following days, the white-furred lynx became a regular at the camp. Every evening, as the bonfires were lit and the aroma of roasting meat began to waft through the air, it would arrive punctually. It grew familiar with the surroundings, trotting straight to Leylo's fire and gazing at him with those pale golden eyes full of anticipation.
Leylo enjoyed the company and made a habit of sharing his meal every time. He used spices brought from the Duke's manor; though the variety was limited, the blend was rich and pungent—clearly a hit with the little creature's palate.
As the days passed, the lynx's guard dropped significantly. Sometimes, it would even huddle by his feet, rubbing its furry head against his boots while emitting a contented purr. Leylo's fascination with this white-furred lynx grew deeper and deeper.
It wasn't just its rarity or its newfound affection for him; it was the illogical details that truly caught his attention.
For instance, its bottomless appetite.
On one occasion, the knights had roasted an entire field boar, cleaned and weighing over a hundred pounds. He and the men had shared half of it; after feeding about five or six pounds to the little creature, the rest was hung by the fire for preservation. He assumed the little one was full, yet when he stumbled awake in the middle of the night to relieve himself, he discovered that the creature had devoured the remaining fifty pounds of roasted pork—every last scrap!
After finishing, it merely let out a contented burp and remained as sprightly as ever, showing not the slightest sign of being bloated.
This completely overturned Leylo's understanding of biology. How could a lynx with such a petite frame possess such a terrifying capacity for food?
An even more bizarre incident occurred a few nights later.
The wind was high that evening, causing the bonfire to flicker unsteadily. As usual, Leylo handed a freshly roasted piece of magical beast leg—still slightly rare—to the white-furred lynx. The little fellow snatched the meat but seemed to feel it wasn't quite done. It tilted its head, looking first at the meat and then at the bonfire, seemingly dissatisfied.
Then, under the dumbfounded gazes of Leylo and Ed, the white-furred lynx opened its dainty, delicate mouth.
A small jet of orange-red flame abruptly erupted from its throat!
The flame licked precisely over the meat pinned beneath its paws with a soft sizzle. Instantly, the surface of the meat turned golden-brown, releasing an even richer aroma. Having completed its task, the little creature retracted the flame with satisfaction and lowered its head to enjoy its "re-processed" meal, as if it had just performed the most mundane task in the world.
Leylo: "..."
Ed: "..."
The two men locked eyes, both seeing the same reflection of absolute, unmitigated shock. A... fire-breathing... lynx?
Leylo's heart gave a violent jolt. A thought, sharp and sudden as a lightning bolt, streaked through his mind.
White fur. An exceedingly rare breed. A colossal appetite. And now... the ability to breathe fire.
Could it be...?
He snapped his gaze back toward the "white-furred lynx" currently feasting with such gusto, his breathing growing shallow and hurried.