I rubbed my temples, wincing in pain as I strained to remember that name—I could've sworn I'd heard it somewhere. Who exactly is Sylara, and why did the dragon king instruct me to summon her? I let out a deep breath as the maids dressed me in my usual training clothes. I was about to head for another one of those entirely fruitless training sessions, an activity I had no interest in participating in anymore; it had become incredibly draining at this point.
The dragon king's order came to mind briefly, but I brushed off the memory right away. I'm not part of his army, and I don't want to fight for something I don't even understand. It's just not who I am. I wasn't brought up to be a fighter, so his insistence on that doesn't seem right. I'm left wondering what these people really want from me and why they can't just be honest about it.
