Trapped in Another World With No Magic

Chapter 64.3: Bonus Chapter: Hekate and the Dragon's Hoard Part 3

Xyreko greets Hekate and Geirahoel as they approach the shuttle ready to take them to Shaiulvalgarro's Hoard, also known simply as the Dragon's Keep. This will be the second time in less than a week that either of them has returned, having otherwise abandoned the keep after Morthybargaron's defeat at the hands of the Harbinger of Calamity. 

The caretaker of the Citadel bows her head politely, greeting the two of them. “Your magnanimous Greatness; your unparalleled Grace; good morning. Do you have everything you'll need?”

“Yes,” replies Hekate. “Thank you for taking us.”

“My pleasure. Although, I must confess, it will be a remote golem piloting the shuttle.” She gestures at the pilot, who is already in the cockpit and preparing the shuttle for takeoff. The leading golem adds, “Fortunately, this is excellent timing, as I will be sending a transportation receiving pad to allow my golems to move more reliably to Shaiulvalgarro's Hoard, as well as more efficiently.”

“Just a receiving pad?” asks Geirahoel. “Can't we use one to return?”

“The two of you are welcome to use the return spell, of course. Our beloved Daniel asked me not to place a sending pad in case the old mine is captured by our enemies. We can send one last gift to them if that is the case.”

Geirahoel and Hekate glanced at each other, only able to speculate what horrors Daniel could concoct as a 'parting gift' for enemies capturing one of their strongholds. Given that it could range from anywhere along the lines of 'instant death' via a rifle to total annihilation via the god-killers, there's a lot of open ground for him to cover in between.

For now, they focus on the trip. “That makes enough sense. Will you be needing help?”

“I won't object, of course, but you may carry out your own missions. Setting up the receiving circle will take time. Once complete, I'll begin sending golems in force to begin clearing out the treasures hoarded within.”

“Be gentle with my flowers,” warns Geirahoel. “Daniel likes-... I mean, I worked very hard to grow them, so I don't want my effort to be wasted.”

Hekate smirks at the orange dragon, who is looking at Xyreko at the moment. She makes that claim, but she didn't worry about her 'precious' flowers for all of the months that she has been at the Citadel, never once wanted to return before. As soon as she finds out that Daniel likes flowers, she's ready to travel the whole world to find every single kind to grow for him.

And, then try to deny that's what she's doing.

Xyreko gestures at the shuttle, “Ready whenever you are, ladies.”

Hekate and Geirahoel nod approvingly, making their way onto the shuttle with their thanks. The shuttle ride is quiet, since Hekate and Geirahoel generally have one thing in common; their love for Daniel, and they’re both essentially caught up on things about him. Otherwise, it could stumble across an awkward topic like Hekate’s past before Daniel, or Geirahoel being nearly killed by him. Fortunately, both of them are content enough simply riding together in peace as the golem pilots them to the ancient dwarven mine.

The shuttle lands, and the villagers of the Unity of the Great Dragons approach. Upon seeing Geirahoel and Hekate, they kneel, speaking in the draconic bridge language. “[Greetings your Imperial Greatness Hekate, your majestic Grace Geirahoel. You honor this humble servant with your presence.]”

The draconic bridge language, often referred to as Yaulrent, is a simplified form of true Draconic, a language probably preceding the births of every living dragon in the world. Yaulrent was formed for slaves, servants, and worshippers to communicate with the dragons, while minimizing the struggle to pronounce some of the more difficult sounds that only dragons and feldroks can typically make. In fact, the ‘true names’ the dragons had to give Daniel in order to form the magic contracts are their Yaulrent equivalents, serving the purpose but not actually being the dragon’s true name.

That’s another part of why Hekate doesn’t bring up what’s on her own chest. It’s very possible that Morthybargaron is the only one who knew Hekate’s true name, meaning it’s likely impossible for the contract to be removed from her.

But, it’s alright. Daniel killed him, and Geira destroyed every shred of him. He’s gone. P-Probably…

Hekate stands tall before the villagers, which admittedly isn’t particularly noteworthy thanks to her diminutive size, but the villagers show her respect all the same. “[Greetings,]” replies Hekate in Yaulrent, though her less-educated accent is rather noticeable, since she’s gotten rusty on the language. “[I hope you all have been well.]”

“[We have, your Greatness. We are preparing for the journey to the Citadel, where we might continue to worship and serve the Great Dragons.]”

“[Do what you want,]” retorts Geirahoel. Though her reply was blunt, her dialect with the bridge language sounds far more natural and elegant, making her sound regal and mature. Hekate isn’t necessarily one to talk, but she can’t help but be amused by the contrast to how Geirahoel speaks in the Eastern Imperial Trade language. Draconic is a complex and poetic language, so it naturally sounds more noble, but Geirahoel seems to have a very well-developed accent for it.

“You know, Geira, if you talked like that all the time, people might mistake you for an eastern empress.” The feldrok empress smirks at her dragon counterpart playfully.

The dragon returns the amusement with a slight curve to her own lips. “I speak in the manner I choose for the people to whom I’m speaking.”

Hekate feigns a light gasp. “Does that mean you think Daniel is beneath you!? I’m telling~! Heeheeheehee!”

The auburn-haired young woman blushes a little, but she is otherwise unfazed, sporting the same confident and quaint smile. “It means I do not have to strangle my thoughts behind a mask.” She crosses her arms, adding softly, “I’ve been trying to teach him Yaulrent, but he’s always too busy.” She then states sternly, “[You there. High Truthsayer. We’re going into the keep. We’re not to be disturbed under any circumstances.]”

“[Your wish is my command,]” replies the High Truthsayer sincerely. He does clarify, “[As you may recall, your Grace, Minister Xyreko has restricted all access to the interior since the Grey Outcast attacked.]”

The orange dragon sucks her teeth in irritation. “[Tch! That idiot…]” She then adds more normally, “[Very well. You may resume whatever it was you were doing.]”

“[If I may, your Grace,]” starts the elderly cambion man.

“[What is it?]” growls the orange dragon, and Hekate just watches the show. She’s kinda glad Geirahoel came along for this exact reason.

“[Will… his Grace the Emperor be joining us?]”

“[Mukori is aware that he still needs to open certain doors to prove himself to your standards, Truthsayer. Do not mistake his easy-going nature for subservience.]”

“[I wouldn’t dare, your Grace! But, it has been passed down amongst our elders for centuries that beyond one such door lies Shaiulvalgarro’s greatest treasures and secret magic.]”

This causes the young dragon to twitch. Hekate knows of the door as well. Morthybargaron claimed it was solid rock designed to look like a door simply to fool intruders into wasting their time and effort. Strange magic protects the door, as well as the walls that would form the room itself. Any time someone seemed to make progress through the rock, they emerged outside of the mine with no ground beneath their feet. For dragons, this is no real issue, of course, but Hekate knows there were slaves that didn’t make it when tasked with attempting to get inside.

Considering his claims, Morthybargaron tried awfully hard to get to the other side of the supposedly fake door. Not that Hekate could or would dare to remark on that with the Red Tyrant.

With Daniel, it’ll be another story. However he plans to open an impossible door, she’s sure it’ll be amazing.

Geirahoel finally replies after seemingly pondering as well. “[Mukori is very busy, but I will remind him that Shaiulvalgarro was a prolific collector of seemingly mythical objects that could be of benefit to him. But, if you believe Shaiulvalgarro could defeat my chosen mate, then you are a fool.]” She huffs as she puts her nose high and walks away, definitively ending her part in the conversation there. The High Truthsayer bows his head respectfully with a quaint smile. He then offers to Hekate, “[Your illustrious Greatness, if there is anything this old sage can help you with, please do let me know.]”

The feldrok empress nods. “[I will, thanks. Er, my thanks to you.]”

He smiles and dips his head again in respect. She knows she doesn’t sound nearly as elegant or mature as Geirahoel, but she’s thankful he didn’t laugh. Maybe they’ll gossip about her later, but the only opinion Hekate truly cares about is, of course, Daniel’s.

Golems are guarding the entrance into the mountainside where the Keep officially begins. Two massive iron golems provide the muscle and intimidation, while rifle-carrying mithril golems that stand roughly Daniel’s height are the true strength of the defense. Hekate has seen Daniel experimenting with pieces that she suspects will become even bigger rifles, though she’s not sure what he is expecting to fight.

Regardless, she’s not upset that Daniel puts everything he can think of into protecting their home and their future together, even if it puts the Fievegal leagues above everyone else in the world.

At least for now.

Geirahoel and Hekate walk past the golems, which salute them even though they don’t really need to. Even the sentient golems like Xyreko are fiercely loyal to the leadership of the Citadel, making demonstrations of fealty redundant. Xyreko has even said that, if Lugrae the Feral Feldrok could have even accidentally restored maintenance functions, she would have maintained the Citadel’s defenses and protected him as she does Daniel. She seems to be more openly fond of and grateful for the fact that Daniel is the one who she is beholden to, as Lugrae wasn’t much of a conversationalist and didn’t have any clever ideas.

He was a monster in all but race, and he simply prowled his territory looking for prey.

That was the scariest time in Hekate’s life; when she laid eyes on Lugrae. She could feel the powerful aura rolling off of him, thicker even than the miasma that was choking her in the Keep a couple days ago.

Still, the evil that took place in this mine feels almost palpable, chilling the air and giving a spooky feeling to the walls and ceiling.

“Is there a reason you wanted to come alone?” asks Geirahoel gently.

Hekate flinches, having become somewhat distracted as she listens urgently for the one dragon she still can’t convince herself is gone.

“Oh! That? I… If Daniel is here, he steals all of the adventure…-i-ness… Right? He leads, he gets to push all of the buttons and open all of the doors and treasure chests…”

“I’ve never felt like he tries to deny anyone else…” murmurs the orange dragon as she thinks it over.

“W-Well, no, but… I also wanted to explore at my own pace. A-And… I…”

A noise deep inside the mine halts Hekate, and Geirahoel comes to a stop when she notices the teen’s reaction. It seems the dragon didn’t hear it. “What is it?”

“I… D-Did you hear that?”

Geirahoel listens for a moment, and she whispers, “I don’t hear anything.”

“I-It’s… It’s not continuous. It was one sound…”

The youngest of the three dragon consorts studies Hekate quietly for a brief while. Hekate does her best to swallow her fear and restore her composure. “It must’ve been nothing. Old mine and all that. Let’s keep go-...”

“You’re afraid to admit to Daniel that you’re afraid?” asks the orange dragon bluntly.

Hekate halts again just as she was taking a couple of steps. She doesn’t look at Geirahoel right away, trying to process how to deflect while hiding the fearful expression she has from being found out so easily.

Rather than pry or tease, however, Geirahoel simply does her haughty huff, and she continues walking. “It’s none of my business. I only came here to destroy Morthybargaron’s things and his memory.” She walks with purpose and without fear. Like the Citadel, their humanoid forms make the Dragon’s Keep much larger in relation to them, and thus a much longer walk. But, neither of them is in a true hurry, and Hekate bounds into step with Geirahoel.

“Y-You’re… not going to tease me?”

“Your rivalry with Ryuogriar is entertaining, but futile. It’s easy to see that no one will replace you. Even Ryuogriar knows that.”

Hekate pouts a little. It certainly doesn’t seem like that when the platinum dragon lays on the real teasing, coupled with the ease at which she can seduce Daniel.

Hekate swallows again, trying to clear her throat enough to speak normally. “Th-Then… what about… Aren’t you worried that… h-h-he’ll come back?”

“Who? Morthybargaron?”

Hekate nods. 

Geirahoel is sympathetic, and she apologizes gently. “My apologies, Hekate… If I had thought about it,... I should have let you destroy the bag. But, you saw me do it. I didn’t pull any deception. I wanted him gone as much as anyone possibly could.” She murmurs softly as her expression darkens a little, “That beast would have crushed our eggs just to spite Daniel, and he’d kill all of us before going after Daniel.”

“Wh-What if… his soul somehow…?”

“Is that what’s been bothering you these last couple of days?”

Hekate nods reluctantly. It’s not the whole truth, but it’s a big part of it. “Mostly… Partly… I don’t know… I just… When Daniel’s nearby, it’s easy to forget… But…” The feldrok girl trails off as she looks around them. As before, the deeper they get into the mine, the closer the walls seem to become. Even though the corridor is over fifty feet across, she feels like it’s starting to squeeze in towards her.

“I see… Then… Pardon me.” Geirahoel takes a sudden turn, approaching one of the rooms. Hekate was never allowed in this particular room. She heard it called ‘the nursery’ several times, but she doesn’t really have a reference for what that means.

The auburn-haired maiden tests the doorway for a barrier, finding none. She then waves Hekate over to join her, and the two walk inside.

The ravenette can’t help but marvel at the interior of the room. Bright mana-powered lights are arranged in long rows, while simplistic mangers are lined up beneath the lights. Each wooden trough has several extremely familiar looking eggs with varying colors on their shells.

Geirahoel says coldly, “This is the entirety of Morthybargaron’s progeny. At least, the ones he was able to preserve for that green fool to study.”

Just scanning the room, there must be over thirty eggs, though there are some shelves and enclosed boxes that may obscure even more.

“A-All of these… are… his?” asks Hekate, feeling a sense of terror at the thought of a multitude of cruel and selfish dragons like Morthybargaron or his younger brother.

The orange dragon simply nods. “Yes. Reina, Ryuo, and I were spared because we never conceived. Not for lack of trying…” She gingerly holds her own bicep as she looks away from everything towards the floor a fair ways away.

Hekate is respectfully quiet for a moment. All three of them acted like dopey airheads with their first eggs, seeming to confirm that they truly are each dragon’s first egg, respectively, with every indication that the offspring will be healthy.

“Are… any of them… going to hatch?” asks Hekate, unsure how to word it.

“Not any time soon,” replies Geirahoel bitterly. “These are simply the ones that are in magic preservation. They should be fertilized, but there’s almost no chance they weren’t ruined in one way or another by the cutthroat’s curse. All of the other ones either died mid-way through, or… after hatching…” This time, Geirahoel looks at Hekate gently. “It… was a terrible thing to see and hear…”

From the way the dragons avoid talking about it, the hatchlings and pre-hatchlings died screaming, with the dragon mothers helpless to aid the agonizing infants.

Hekate observes the eggs for a long time, processing the information. She finally asks quietly, having some suspicions already, “What… are you going to do?”

The auburn-haired woman is quiet for a moment, staring seriously at the eggs as well. She replies softly, “I came to destroy his legacy.”

“But…!” starts Hekate, before she falls silent. She doesn’t want a rise of Morthybargarons in the future, but she also doesn’t know what the right answer is. The children are innocent until they aren’t. But, they deserve a chance at life. Hekate was lucky enough that, in his hubris, Morthybargaron wanted a powerful slave more than he feared what Hekate could become. 

Thankfully, Geirahoel still hasn’t made a move. Still deliberating desperately, Hekate’s mind races in every direction to search for the right answer.

Unfortunately, her brain constantly returns to one question.

How would Daniel handle this?

She tries to shake her head clear of that. The whole reason she came here without him was to try and deal with her demons without using him as a crutch.

Her ears flick as she tries to think, and her tail sways back and forth. Geirahoel watches her patiently, though she could easily destroy the whole room without warning if she chooses to.

“Is there any way to know which eggs have a chance of hatching, and which ones don’t?” asks the feldrok empress after some deliberation.

“It might be listed somewhere on the boxes. But, why bother? These are all the would-be offspring of that tyrant. If you have some qualms about killing them, then allow me. Even if we try to take them back to hatch them, there is a very high chance the hatchling will suffer endlessly until it dies.”

Hekate looks up at the orange dragon pleadingly. She replies urgently, “A child is not guilty of the things their parents did. Less so when they haven’t even hatched yet.”

“Why should the bloodlines of evil dragons be allowed to live? That means the red tyrant wins, even in death. His legacy lives on.”

Hekate pouts, her expressive triangular ears flattening sadly along her head while her tail droops. “I don’t know my parents. Chaos told me their names, but I’ll never know them. I’ll never be their proper legacy.” She straightens back up, saying confidently, “The same can be true of these hatchlings, if any of them will hatch. They don’t have to be Morty’s children as long as we raise them correctly.” 

Geirahoel lets out a long, exasperated sigh. Giving in on that point, she asks, “And, the chances that they’re going to suffer painfully?”

Again, Hekate droops. “I… think we should make that decision if it happens.”

Geirahoel is the one to look away this time as her own tail sags a bit. “It’s easy to say when you’ve never witnessed…”

“I know,” replies Hekate. “But, if everyone ran around killing abandoned children,...” She grips the chest of her light armor, remembering that fateful day. Daniel had every reason to defend himself from Hekate, who tried to kill him, and instead, he clothed, fed, and saved her in every other possible way.

She then adds with a gentle smile, “Besides, if you were so set on destroying all of these eggs, you wouldn’t have waited to discuss it with me.”

The haughty orange dragon huffs as she flips her head to the side away from Hekate, and her auburn hair briefly flares out from the quick movement. “Hmph! I was merely following the hierarchy of the Fievegal. Don’t think it was kindness or anything.”

Hekate smiles with a relieved heart. Maybe it’s a mistake, but it’s the first one Hekate made completely on her own. It gives her a little more courage for what’s to come.

The two make their way back out into the hall. The eggs can be retrieved later, since they’re in magic stasis presently. It’s not quite as ‘perfect’ of a stasis as putting them in void bags, but they also won’t disappear into oblivion if they are forgotten in the void bags and it runs out of power.

The oppressive evil seems to be reaching towards Hekate from one particular room at the end of the hall; the center of the Dragon’s Keep and the most important space during Morthybargaron’s room; the Red Lord’s lair itself.

In terms of what Hekate saw with Empress Sundenelle and other things the feldrok empress has read, it also served as Morthybargaron’s throne room, where he would make all of the dragons gather, where he would give out orders, and where he would greedily show off his treasure, all but taunting anyone to try to take even a single trinket.

As they walk, though, Hekate’s gaze falls upon a small passageway in the wall that leads down a dark, cramped tunnel. She is drawn to the familiar corridor, as if by instinct. It’s one of the few places that, if she could reach it, she could sometimes escape the attention of the dragons.

“Hekate?” asks Geirahoel when she notices the ravenette drifting towards the hole in the wall.

Hekate murmurs, “I… I want to go down here, first.”

The young dragon hesitates for a moment. She can likely smell what is at the other end of the tunnel. But, seeing that Hekate isn’t stopping, she reluctantly follows the feldrok girl this time.

The tunnel is fairly long, and though Hekate can walk through with relative ease, only bumping the tops of her ears against the ceiling occasionally, Geirahoel has to crouch multiple times, as well as squeeze through a particularly narrow portion of the tunnel.

And, as both of them can smell, it lets out into the now-neglected inner stables where gulpoxen were herded into prior to becoming food for the dragons.

Large, flat piles of excrement have been broken apart and mixed into a near-total floor cover, rotting and filling the air with a foul smell that causes Geirahoel to recoil.

Hekate finds it unpleasant now, where once upon a time, she was able to tolerate it without thinking much about it. She truly has come a long way.

She walks across the huge stables, dwarfed by the size of the space due to how large gulpoxen are. She navigates the intricate rows with ease, and Geirahoel follows close behind, trying to find some way to alleviate the smell.

The dragon eventually settles on igniting her ignityal pilot flame in her mouth, licking her teeth constantly to create a fuel-rich environment blended with her venom to increase the smoke she’s producing. Her venom burning is toxic to most beings, but will do little harm to her, and it apparently is more tolerable than the closest thing Hekate had to a home prior to the Citadel.

Of course, the diminutive feldrok teen had to be mindful of the giant livestock, avoiding their massive footfalls and finding a place where the beasts couldn’t get to her or lay down on top of her.

That place is a small corner alcove in the wall, barely large enough for a child to crawl through, let alone curl up in a ball and try to sleep.

The rest of the world has faded out as a vision of a ragged little girl with black hair, triangular ears, golden eyes, and a ratty black tail shivers in the alcove, doing everything she can to endure.

The ravenette kneels before her hiding spot, murmuring gently, “It’s alright, now… I made it…”

The image looks up at her, as if seeing her. Hekate does her best to smile for the reflection of her past. She survived, and she has the greatest treasures anyone could ever ask for.

But, there is one treasure that she is drawn to. One thing is hidden in this small little alcove that she had nearly forgotten. It helped her get through the nights.

Hekate gets down on her hands and knees to crawl into the alcove, just as she had so many times before.

However, when she gets to her hips, it almost feels like the stone walls have closed on her. She wriggles as much as she can, trying to squirm into the hole in the wall, but to no avail. She grunts and whines in frustration, and Geirahoel simply watches, unsure what Hekate is trying to do.

When she finally decides she can’t get in, the feldrok teen tries to withdraw, and the walls keep their firm grip on her hips. “What!?” whines Hekate. “What is this!” She tries to push with her hands, but she can’t get enough traction to extract herself, and her knees slide in the detritus making up the floor of the stables.

“I’m stuck!” exclaims the teen.

“I can see that,” retorts Geirahoel dryly.

“How can I be stuck!?”

“I think it’s called getting fat.”

“Grrraaaahhh! I’m not fat!” Her tail rapidly swishes back and forth in time with her frustration, and she squirms every which way she can think of to try to free herself, all to no avail.

“You’re a lot bigger than you were. Frankly, I don’t even know why you tried that.”

The embarrassed teen growls impotently. She whines, “Well, don’t just stand there! Help me! Please?”

The orange dragon scoffs and steps forward. She gently takes Hekate’s legs and helps pull her out.

This time, the auburn haired beauty doesn’t miss the opportunity to tease Hekate. “Imagine if you had come completely alone. You might have been stuck like that forever.”

The feldrok girl spits filth from her mouth where her face fell in the dried mess. “Ptah! Gah! Yuck!” She then hums as she glares at Geirahoel. “Never speak a word of this to anyone. Ever.”

“You have to know I’m telling Daniel everything. He’ll enjoy this story.”

Hekate points at the dragon, who is undisturbed by the warning gesture. “Not. A. Single. Word.”

The dragon sighs. “Very well.”

“Good. Now then…” Hekate trots over to one of the guiding fences, and she uses magic to break off one of the boards longer than she is tall. She then jogs back over to the hole as Geirahoel watches with a fairly neutral expression, still fighting off the stench with her idle fire breath. The ignityal and venom mix crackles and pops lightly as it burns in the dragon’s mouth, and she occasionally puffs air through her lips to spit out rings of smoke.

Meanwhile, Hekate uses the plank to reach into her cubby hole, carefully scrounging around the back with it. She couldn’t let it get discovered, lest it be used to torment her before being destroyed.

Once she gets it with the plank, she carefully drags the delicate object out of the hole, tossing the board aside when she’s done so that she can claim her prize.

Upon seeing the item Hekate came to retrieve, Geirahoel’s expression drains of all color.

Hekate hugs it to her chest gently as tears form in her eyes. It may partly be from the eye-watering odors present in the abandoned and neglected stables, but there’s also a sentimental part of Hekate that is thankful this little object survived.

Geirahoel mindlessly murmurs in horror, “Hekate…”, even though it is a happy moment in this place of nightmares for the little feldrok girl.

The treasure she retrieved is nothing more than a few clumps of straw bundled into a humanoid shape with big protrusions from the ‘head’; an object so crudely made that it could barely be called a ‘doll’.

The orange dragon is speechless as she watches Hekate care for the wretched little doll almost as tenderly and affectionately as the dragons do with their eggs.

It is the only personal possession Hekate ever owned while Morthybargaron was alive.

***