Returning to their room at the Bright Moon Inn, Lancaster tossed Sackray onto the bed, wearing a triumphant grin.
"Looks like Mom was right—if you act like you don't want it too much, it's easier to haggle."
"Your Majesty!" Sackray, unwilling to remain idle, scrambled to Lancaster's side. "Why do we have to participate in something as bothersome as the Knight Festival?"
"What do you know?" Lancaster glanced at him, her eyes flickering with disdain. "Besides, the reason I came out this time is to—"
Realizing she had let something slip, Lancaster clamped her mouth shut.
"For what?" Sackray pressed.
"Nothing!"
"Come on, tell me!"
"I said it's nothing!"
"Ah, don't tell me you're planning to recruit someone for your harem this time, Your Majesty? That's too cruel! You've broken my heart!" Sackray moaned dramatically.
"Go die, you filthy perverted dragon with your mind full of rubbish!" Lancaster, enraged, grabbed the pointed candlestick from the table and hurled it at him.
Sackray nimbly dodged. "But really, why are we teaming up with that weak-looking kid? He's going to drag us down for sure."
"No, you're wrong." Lancaster shook her head. "He's strong. Not just strong—exceptionally so."
Remembering the chilling sensation she felt in the forest that afternoon, Lancaster shuddered. "Besides, do you think someone as young as him could become a High Council elder so easily?"
"Those old geezers aren't that impressive!"
"Forget it. Talking to you is like talking to a blockheaded dragon!"
"That old fox said it best—it's better to keep unpredictable elements close for monitoring." Sackray shivered as he saw Lancaster's smile.
Two days later, they arrived at Nayé and found the inns sporting peculiar signs:
"No entry for mages below Debel or knights below Alioth. Free for magisters above BUZZKA or knights above Phecda."
The streets were full of such signs, with only slight variations in the levels listed.
"Hmph, these shameless merchants. They're all desperate to host high-ranking knights and mages just to brag later."
Lancaster reached into her cloak. "Which badge should I use? Dubhe or Merak?"
If any knight on the street overheard, they'd be stunned.
The ranks of knights on the Continent of Stuart were divided by these celestial badges, from lowest to highest: Dubhe, Merak, Phecda, Megrez, Alioth, Mizar, and Alkaid.
There were only nine Dubhe knights on the entire continent, all of them over a thousand years old.
How Lancaster came into possession of a Dubhe badge, no one knew.
Moreover, one had to exchange their old badge for a new one upon ascending in rank, so even Dubhe knights wouldn't possess multiple badges.
"I've decided. That stupid dragon doesn't have any badges, so I'll give him the Merak one. I'll use Dubhe." Lancaster concluded.
"Hey, Sackray," she turned toward him.
"Which badge should I use? Dubhe or Merak?" Sackray muttered to himself.
"What? You have badges too?" Lancaster was shocked. How was that possible? She had seven badges because of who she was, but Sackray? He was just a dragon. He shouldn't have any badges at all!
"Of course. What's wrong? Your Majesty, did you forget I'm a dragon? These badges are beautiful! How could I resist collecting them?"
Forget it. Lancaster sighed. There was no point in being surprised anymore—nothing about this dragon ever made sense.
Given their current situation, Lancaster grabbed Sackray. "Let's not draw too much attention. Use a Megrez badge."
"Alright, fine." The dragon seemed disappointed, lamenting the loss of a chance to show off.
They pushed open the door of an inn. "We'd like a room," Lancaster called out.
But before they could settle in, Manning descended the stairs.
"Oh, fancy meeting you here!" Lancaster smiled.
"Indeed!" Manning smirked, his eyes drifting toward Sackray.
That same piercing gaze again. Lancaster instinctively shielded Sackray behind her.
Sackray grinned widely.
"Why haven't you dyed your hair back yet?" Manning asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
"What?" Both Lancaster and Sackray were dumbfounded.
Dyeing hair? What did that have to do with anything?
"Oh!" Lancaster suddenly remembered something and quickly dragged Sackray out the door.
Manning followed leisurely behind them.
Inside the inn, onlookers exchanged disdainful glances. "Blue hair, huh?"
"What's this all about, Your Majesty?" Sackray asked, completely confused.
"It's an old story—about 800 years old. Legend has it that this continent was once invaded by a fierce and cruel race, and their most distinctive feature was their blue hair. So even though dyeing hair is popular nowadays, it's still taboo among knights who uphold the ideals of justice."
"Bunch of old-fashioned fools!" Sackray scoffed.
"I agree," Lancaster patted him on the back, "but if you don't want to be barred from the Knight Festival, you'd better go dye your hair."
"No way!" Sackray retorted firmly. "I love the color of my hair!"
"I love it too, but I don't want to attend the festival alone."
"Really? Really?" Sackray's voice lifted in excitement.
"What do you mean 'really'?"
"You said you love my hair!"
"Mmm." Lancaster nodded.
"Alright then, if it's your wish, Your Majesty, I'll do it. But on one condition."
"Name it."
"Kiss me, or tell me the real reason we're going to the festival!" Sackray demanded earnestly.
Lancaster thought for a moment. "Fine. I owe you a kiss." Given how unreasonable the request seemed, even to him, he was willing to concede.
"Not right now?" Sackray's eyes sparkled with anticipation.
"No!"
"Oh, my Queen, you're so cruel! I'll have to charge you interest."
"Go die, you!" Several wind blades appeared out of thin air.
When they emerged from the barbershop, Manning was already waiting by the door.
"We should hurry to sign up. We're running out of time."
Seeing the sun sinking toward the horizon, Lancaster quickened her pace.
The crowd in front of the registration desk had thinned. "Hey, we'd like to register!"
Without looking up, the registrar asked, "Names, knight ranks?"
"Lancaster—Lancaster Brulin, Megrez knight."
"Sackray Brulin, Megrez knight."
"You scoundrel! Who said you could take my last name?"
"Oh, my Queen, shouldn't you bestow your most loyal servant with a surname?"
"Manning Felt, Megrez knight." Manning interjected, ignoring the squabbling pair.
"Alright, just the three of you?"
Lancaster was about to nod when she felt a tug on her sleeve.
"Excuse me, can I join you?" A timid voice asked.