Chapter 27
Isabella quietly gazed at the book resting neatly on her lap.
The book tempted her as though it were a living creature.
Slowly, Isabella reached out her hand.
The moment her fingers touched the book, a dizzying sensation shot through her body like a sharp electric shock.
Startled, Isabella hastily pulled her hand back.
I have to read it.
Despite herself, her instincts screamed at her to open the book.
Taking a deep breath, Isabella picked it up again.
Carefully, she turned the pages.
Unfamiliar letters appeared.
They were not written in the Empire’s common tongue, nor in any script Isabella had ever seen before.
She had always taken an interest in foreign languages, so she was certain this was not a writing system currently in use.
And yet, strangely enough, she could read it.
How could she understand letters she had never learned, never even seen?
It was bizarre.
Being able to interpret characters she couldn’t even pronounce—simply by looking at them—wasn’t just strange. It was chilling.
“The Book of Dragons?”
Isabella read the title written on the first page aloud.
A story about dragons?
The tension she had felt before opening the book vanished, and a small laugh escaped her.
A tale about dragons—how predictable.
She had grown up reading countless stories of knights slaying dragons.
She had thought it would be a rare and precious book, but to think it was just another common tale. What a disappointment.
Isabella closed the book and placed it on the bedside table.
Then she lay down on the bed.
Pulling the blanket up to her neck, she closed her eyes.
But her attention kept drifting back to the bedside table.
Just like in the library, the book was calling out to her once more.
With a resigned sigh, Isabella sat up again.
She opened the book.
“The dragon, the only living being not created by the gods…”
That night, Isabella read the entire book without sleeping.
It was not a common storybook.
Nor was it a predictable fairy tale.
This was a story that had truly existed—and was still unfolding.
The beginning and the end of dragons.
After confirming the name of the last dragon sleeping in the north, Isabella closed the book.
There was no snowfall today.
For a northern winter—where relentless winds and heavy snow were the norm—it was remarkably pleasant weather.
There was no wind either.
Isabella quietly looked down at the snow-covered garden.
Without the snow, it was hard to believe it was winter at all.
The statues and trees caught her eye.
Ever since Cleor had dressed the trees, it seemed to have become a trend in the estate; every statue and tree in the garden was now adorned with knitted winter accessories.
Wool hats, wool gloves, wool vests…
Even the statue of a valiant knight, and the statue of a boy with angel wings, were no exceptions.
Watching the once gray garden slowly fill with color brought a small joy to her otherwise monotonous days.
Joyful?
Isabella startled herself.
Lately, she had been surprised by the growing range of emotions she felt.
Each time emotions she believed she was incapable of surfaced unexpectedly, guilt toward the House of Noverdic came crashing over her like a tide.
Isabella quickly turned her gaze away from the garden.
Knock, knock.
A knock sounded at the door.
“Please, come in.”
It was obvious who it would be—Cleor.
The door opened, and as expected, Cleor entered.
His face looked dark.
Isabella slowly lowered her eyes.
The deep shadows cast beneath her long lashes pained Cleor’s heart.
“Did you not sleep well?”
How did he know?
Isabella hadn’t slept at all last night, having read the book she had borrowed.
Still, tossing and turning at night was nothing unusual for her.
Her complexion was always poor enough that missing a night or two of sleep hardly showed.
“You look more tired than usual today. I had something to say, but I’ll do it another time.”
“You can say it now.”
There was no guarantee she would ever be in better condition than this.
And compared to when she had lived at the count’s estate, she was feeling far better.
Just being able to sit like this, listen to someone, and hold a conversation without longing to rest was already tremendous progress.
“Are you sure?”
Cleor sat down near Isabella.
At times, she thought his consideration was excessive.
“Yes, I’m fine.”
Cleor swallowed several times and sighed once or twice.
“Isabella… will you trust me and go to the Valley of Lamentation? Ah, the Valley of Lamentation is—”
“I know.”
Isabella answered as though she had been waiting for it.
“You do?”
“Yes, I do.”
She had read about it yesterday.
The resting place chosen by the last dragon remaining on the continent.
The cave in the Valley of Lamentation, at the center of the Forest of Grief.
“How did you…?”
“I read it in a book.”
Isabella glanced toward the bedside table.
Cleor strode over and picked up the book.
“This one?”
Isabella nodded.
Cleor flipped through the pages rapidly.
His eyes widened, then narrowed.
“You can read this?”
It was an ancient language.
Also known as the language of dragons, or the language of mages.
Only a handful of people in the Mage Tower could read it.
It was a language that only archmages—those who had surpassed the limits of humanity—could learn through years of study.
How could Isabella read this?
Even sensing his doubt-filled gaze, Isabella couldn’t answer.
She didn’t know herself how she had been able to read it.
But she could guess what Cleor was about to say.
“Are we going to meet the dragon?”
“Ah… yes.”
“And I have to go with you?”
“That’s right… unless you don’t want to.”
Isabella shook her head.
“I’ll go.”
Cleor blinked, then spoke.
Even if it wasn’t his preference, if it was what she wanted, then he would simply do what he could.
“I’ll do everything I can to ensure it’s a safe journey.”
Isabella nodded.
Morning at the duke’s castle was bustling.
“Is the First Knight Order ready?”
“Yes, sir!”
Bern, who had become the acting commander after Whitney’s absence, struck his chest and answered energetically.
Cleor scanned the long line of knights mounted on black horses behind Bern and nodded in satisfaction.
“How about the carriage?”
“We installed plush bedding made from Grand Ratterbit fur. Blankets are ready as well.”
“Well done.”
Cleor patted Jim on the shoulder and personally inspected the carriage.
He shook the brazier beneath Isabella’s seat to make sure it was secured, then pressed his cheek near the window to check for drafts.
“Hang even a thin curtain.”
He could feel a faint breeze seeping through the window.
Cleor gave the order to Jim.
“Yes, sir.”
After confirming Jim took care of it, Cleor moved on to the next inspection.
“Our knight order has to escort the young lady who isn’t even married yet? When we should be hunting monsters!”
Bern grumbled as he approached Demor.
Demor gave him a cold look.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that? I’m a commander now too, you know?”
“Acting.”
“Hah, acting becomes official eventually.”
Bern was skilled and fiercely loyal, but that personality was the problem.
And his loyalty was directed solely toward Cleor.
It was understandable—when his entire village had been slaughtered by monsters, Cleor had charged in alone and saved him.
All Bern thought about were monster hunts and Cleor—nothing else.
With such one-dimensional thinking, it was no surprise he was still only a vice-commander despite his talent.
“It’ll probably be an enjoyable journey.”
Bern scowled as if to say what nonsense is that.
Demor made an inscrutable expression, then quietly slipped away somewhere.
Cleor hesitated in front of Isabella’s door.
Three days ago, when he had suggested going to the Valley of Lamentation, he had still doubted whether Isabella truly was a Dragon Master.
But the moment she reacted to the mention of the valley—and after seeing the book she had read—he became certain.
Even so, he couldn’t help worrying about her.
If Isabella wasn’t a Dragon Master and they ended up waking the dragon for nothing, battle would be inevitable.
Could he really protect her in a fight against a dragon?
What if—what if…
That won’t happen.
Cleor was prepared to give his life to protect her.
Knock, knock.
Cleor knocked on Isabella’s door.
It was time to leave for the Valley of Lamentation.
Isabella had prepared thoroughly. Angela and Clara helped her get ready.
Compared to the two of them, Isabella looked down at her increasingly bulky outfit.
Angela and Clara wore riding pants, fur boots, and coats that reached their knees.
But Isabella—
Silk underskirts, a wool dress, and fur on top of that…
It was no wonder she felt like she was growing larger by the minute.
The types of fur draped over her were varied.
Marten, badger, fox…
Even the fox fur was snow-white and incredibly soft.
It was a luxury item that cost a fortune even in the commercially prosperous central region.
This is excessive.
Isabella thought so.
She was sensitive to the cold, but most of the journey would be in a carriage. This was too much.
“Hmm, but isn’t it still lacking?”
Angela asked Clara, seeking agreement.
“Should we wrap her in a quilt too?”
“A blanket won’t be enough either, right?”
It took Isabella a moment to realize they were talking about her.
“If I wrap myself in a quilt, it’ll be hard to ride a horse. This is more than enough already.”
When Isabella finally interjected, Angela and Clara nodded vigorously, as if enlightened.
“Our Isabella is so wise.”
Isabella fumbled for a response.
Angela smiled contentedly.
Clara took Isabella’s hand.
Isabella quietly stared at the small hand guiding her.
Normally, she would have pulled away.
But she couldn’t do that with the people of House Noverdic.
Isabella gently held onto Clara’s small hand and followed her without resistance.
