Fire in the Air and Secrets in the Smoke
“The Duke of Albarant…”
The name alone made Count Wolvart’s eyes widen in curiosity.
“The master of the Agryx species, is he not?”
“As far as I know, only the Agryx can alter the atmosphere around them just by standing still.”
Though dragons were powerful living beings, not all had such an overwhelming presence. Only a rare few could cause the air to shimmer and the ground to warm merely by their existence.
The peacock dragon… and the Agryx.
“Grrrhhh…”
Lou growled low in his throat. His pupils dilated, then contracted, over and over again. He lowered his head and tucked in his tail, fins raised high in alarm.
“…It’s okay, Lou. You’re alright. Nothing’s going to hurt you.”
I knelt beside him, gently running a hand down his trembling neck. But Lou didn’t calm down. His muscles remained taut, his breath shallow.
Is it the scent of the Agryx dragon that has him this frightened?
The Marcellid species—Lou’s kind—weren’t known for timidity. While they weren’t considered the strongest dragons, their ability to control wind and water made them highly adaptable, swift in the air and agile in water. In many ways, they were the elemental opposite of the fire-wielding Agryx.
Yet Lou was trembling in fear, and we hadn’t even seen the Agryx yet.
“There, boy. You’re okay,” Count Wolvart said, stepping forward to help. His voice was soothing, and he reached out to stroke Lou’s fins. Gradually, Lou began to settle, though his eyes remained wary.
“I didn’t expect him to react so strongly without even a visual…”
“Dragons see more than we do,” I replied softly. “Sometimes, I think they see truths we’re blind to.”
The Count nodded thoughtfully and turned his gaze toward Lou, who was slowly breathing through his nose, nostrils flaring as if still sensing a lingering threat.
‘Because dragons of the nobility often see battle…’
Not all dragons were bred for war. Some served in peaceful roles, like hauling cargo or providing leather and meat after death. Some were pets—tiny, soft-scaled creatures who warmed beds and hearts alike.
But the most powerful among them—the ones who formed bonds with humans and unlocked their latent potential—were destined for more. They were weapons. Partners in war. Chosen by dragons, and in turn trained by the Empire’s elite.
And the humans worthy of such selection were almost always nobles. Sometimes even royalty. Occasionally, a commoner might rise to noble status if chosen by a dragon—but such cases were rare.
And when war comes… nobles lead from the front. So do their dragons.
“It looks like Lou has good instincts,” I said with a smile, trying to lighten the mood.
The Count glanced at me, then quickly looked away, stroking his moustache.
“Y-yes, quite good instincts.”
He turned back to Lou and gently scratched beneath one of his horns. Lou, beginning to calm, tilted his head slightly, clearly enjoying the sensation.
“Given how alert Lou became without even seeing the Agryx… I can’t help but think Duke Albarant’s dragon must be truly fearsome.”
There was a quiet weight to his voice.
“…Are you worried?” I asked cautiously.
“There’s no such thing as absolute peace. Today the continent is calm. Tomorrow?” He shook his head. “Who can say?”
As he spoke, his hand moved across Lou’s neck with practiced familiarity. Lou let out a soft huff, relaxed now.
“I just hope Lou never has to face a dragon like that in battle.”
“I hope so too,” I whispered. “The thought of dragons turning their strength against one another… it’s unbearable.”
The image flashed through my mind—perfectly kept scales scorched and cracked, sharpened claws shattered, blood soaking into soil… I forced it away.
“If a dragon I trained had to go to war… I don’t know if I could bear it.”
“War is never noble,” the Count agreed. “Let’s hope such times never return.”
He gave me a gentle smile, as if to ward off the shadows.
“But enough of my rambling. Trainer Lithia, would you assist me in my next riding lesson?”
“Of course, Count. I’ll be sure to secure the saddle’s straps tightly. Lou may get excited and take off.”
At the training center’s administrative office, the director stood straight and stiff, his back bowed low in deference as sweat ran down his spine.
“It is an honor, Your Grace. Welcome, Duke of Albarant.”
The Duke did not respond.
His cold gaze swept over the room like a winter storm, and the chill of it made the director flinch.
“…I came because this is said to be a training center certified by the Empire.”
“Yes, sir. We take great pride in our top-tier expertise.”
The Duke’s lips curved slightly—but the smile never reached his eyes.
“We’ll see.”
The director’s breath caught as those sharp eyes scanned the surroundings.
The Duke… at my center? Could it really be…?
He had heard whispers. Rumors that the Duke of Albarant was searching for something. Or someone. But he hadn’t dared believe it might be true.
To entrust a dragon—that dragon—to me? To this place?
The Agryx dragon bonded to the Duke was the stuff of legends. Most dragons aligned themselves with noble families under strict tradition. They were guarded, kept secret. Especially rare species like the Agryx. Families protected their knowledge like sacred texts.
It would be madness to expose such a dragon to a public training ground.
And yet…
“I want to entrust the training of my dragon,” the Duke said flatly.
The director’s eyes widened.
“…I-I beg your pardon?”
“You heard correctly.”
He stared for a moment, then scrambled for the most logical interpretation.
“Ah! You must mean the dragons ridden by your knights? In that case, of course—we offer excellent programs for war training and formation flight—”
“No. I mean my dragon.”
The words hit like thunder.
The director’s mouth opened and closed like a beached fish. He fumbled for his handkerchief and dabbed the sweat from his brow.
This makes no sense…
“You mean… the Agryx?”
The Duke nodded once, slowly.
Is he insane?
It would be reckless. Dangerous. Irresponsible. Dragons like the Agryx didn’t tolerate just anyone. They were volatile, powerful, and deeply bonded to their chosen human. No one trained them but the family’s personal, hand-picked experts.
“Y-yes, well, it’s not impossible, but…”
“I understand your hesitation.”
The Duke’s tone was smooth, almost amused, as he tilted his teacup in one hand.
“But allow me to be clear: I am searching for someone to become my dragon’s exclusive trainer.”
The director blinked.
“A personal trainer?”
“Yes. But one capable of handling my dragon.”
The director’s mind whirled.
“…Will everyone have a chance to meet the Agryx?”
“They will,” the Duke replied. “But this must remain a secret. No one outside of yourself is to know.”
“With all due respect… I must protest.”
“Oh?” The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
The Duke’s eyes narrowed, and the weight of his gaze pressed down like a crushing hand. The director’s knees almost buckled.
“It could cause your dragon to reject all human trainers. If he feels threatened, or insulted… there may be no one he’ll accept. Not even your handpicked candidate.”
He swallowed hard.
“…If you truly want a dedicated trainer, wouldn’t a more selective process be safer?”
“Director,” the Duke said, his voice suddenly sharper, “isn’t that my decision to make?”
“I-I apologize, Your Grace!”
But then the Duke leaned back in his chair, his gaze glinting with quiet confidence.
“Besides… I doubt the scenario you fear will come to pass.”
The director looked up, confused.
And the Duke smiled.
“Kazen will choose.”
The blood drained from the director’s face.
The dragon himself will choose?
“That…”
“Oh, and one more thing,” the Duke added, his voice still calm. “I’ve heard rumors—of bribes taken, of favors exchanged under the table. Perhaps if that information were to reach the palace…”
The implication landed like a sword through the chest.
The director broke into a fresh sweat, his hands trembling slightly.
“Of course, Your Grace,” he whispered. “I will keep everything… confidential.”
“Good.”
The Duke stood, gaze dismissive.
“I’ll call the trainers,” the director said quickly. “And… I will participate.”
It was all he could do. He was a trainer, after all. And if there was even the smallest chance of being chosen—he had to try.
“Do as you will.”
The Duke didn’t even look back.
The director bowed his head low.
His only order: summon the trainers.
