"The most majestic and great kingdom, forged from fire and dragons."
The blazing white sun scorches the city that stretches as far as the eye can see. Countless ships raised sails of different colors, crowded like sardines in the same endless harbor. The wide River Lorne flows quietly. Above the river, a long bridge that can allow two four-wheeled carriages to pass side by side leads to the river mouth. The sphinx, dragon and manticore carved from black stone stare coldly at the crowds of people on the long bridge.
The powerful hunting falcon flew across the sky like lightning. The feathers fell off, and were carefully picked up by the slave with maggot tattoos, and put into the simple basket on his back. Men with tiger-striped tattoos wield whips and direct long lines of slaves to sweep the wide streets.
The falcon flew over the bustling port area, which was mixed with the smell of fish, flowers, excrement, and the strong smell of decay and decay. It flew over merchants and sailors from all over the world, and flew over slaves covered with tattoos. The nobleman on the golden seat on the elephant's back flew past, leaving behind a string of vague curses. Flying over the two hundred-foot-high black city wall.
Finally, the falcon landed on a strange-shaped black stone pillar. The pillar was carved with a laurel leaf surrounding a fire-breathing dragon. It was made of sterling silver and shone brightly in the sun. In the room opposite the stone pillar, an old man in gray clothes was holding a heavy book, leaning against the fountain decorated with dragons and manticores, and reciting calmly.
The handsome silver-haired boy raised his head with some joy and looked at the falcon quietly.
"Rodgraim, please listen carefully." The old man in gray stretched out his hand and pulled the necklace made of more than a dozen different metal rings on his chest, and said slowly.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I just miss Flame Wings too much. Master Vesalius, please don't tell my brother." The 12-year-old Rodgraim quickly withdrew his gaze and looked at the man who was staring at him quietly with pleading eyes. Dr. Vesalius. This learned scholar came from the far west, a place called the Sunset Land by the people in the Black Wall. But the Rodgraim knew that the real name of that place was Titania. My father and mother, now deceased, often mentioned it.
It is the hometown that my mother longs for and hates.
"Your brother will not give up on learning knowledge just because of a hunting falcon." The old scholar said earnestly and turned to the next page. "Unless it's a baby dragon."
"But we don't have any dragons anymore."
The boy lowered his head, thinking this, the old voice in his
ears continued to recite the chapters of history in Old Imperial.
"The dawn shines in the seemingly eternal kingdom. The descendants of light and darkness, fire and ice rule the earth and the sea. His rule lasts for ten thousand years, until the destined moment, the White Emperor sits on the throne and the Jade Emperor sews treasures. Clothes, the Black King forges armor, the Ferdum compiles books, and the Azure King stitches wounds, order dies, the world is in chaos, and then brother and sister fight each other, and the night is long, the hero draws his sword, and the night lion grieves."
"Old myths and legends." Rodgraim's mind has already flown to the hunting falcon "Flame". "But my brother likes it very much. Is it because Queen Amethyst also has purple eyes? He thinks it may be related to our ancestors?" The boy blinked his beautiful violet eyes and pretended to listen carefully.
"Your ancestors rose from the rolling mountains of the Fourteen Fire Peaks. They are the descendants of the mountains. They are brave warriors, outstanding scholars, mysterious magicians and excellent craftsmen."
"The legend is indeed still a legend. Our ancestors are the descendants of shepherds." Rodgraim whispered in his heart. "We still know this."
"They awakened the children of the Fourteen Fire Peaks." Vesalius suddenly lowered his voice. "Then the greatest of nations was born, the Archadians mounted dragons and launched great conquests. The darlings of the Harpy, the ancient Guslav Empire was burned by dragonfire until crops could never grow. The salt marsh. And Rores, who had water magic that could drown dragons, and their heroic Prince Kilgaeon also died in the rage of three hundred dragons."
"Now it's getting interesting." Rodgraim retracted his hand into his sleeves made of purple silk, and a small silver dragon statue came into his hand at some point. The boy rubbed the statue gently, and his mind finally returned to the thick book.
"At the height of the Ancient Archadia, forty dragonlord families tamed thousands of dragons."
"It's a pity that there is only one Dragon King family left that raises giant dragons. No, it is more like a lucky exile than a Dragon King." Rodgraim continued to rub the statue, recalling the noble lessons he had taken before.
"The dragon kings are scheming in the high towers of Archadia. The dragons are roaring on the volcano. Under the volcano, millions of slaves are working hard for the dragon kings in the mines. Looking at the known world, the Hubaks are like mice. The masters of Sador were running away in the same panic, the ancient Dria people were slaves of the dragon kings, and the proud Emperor Sergir regarded marrying the silver-haired noblewoman as a great honor." The old scholar's voice gradually became louder. It's like singing a poem.
"The wise Fyre Aragon foresaw the brewing disaster, so the failed family brought the dragon to the west. Then came the doomsday catastrophe that destroyed everything. The dragon kings turned into ashes, and the dragons disappeared from the sky. The sky fell, and the mighty kingdom was wiped out from the dust overnight."
The old scholar cleared his throat and continued: "Your ancestor, Vildrid Aragon, the last Emperor of Archadia, is stationed in Hunok with his dragon at this time. The proud Dragon King thinks that This was an excellent opportunity. Greed swallowed up his sanity, so he spent all his wealth and recruited an army of thirty thousand. Among them were free mercenaries and farmers who were eager for wealth, and wandering Archadian warriors who were eager to return home. There were also the Black Goat Riders of Hunok, who had obtained supplies in Dwargon, and the Dragon King had left his heirs here."
The old scholar looked at Rodgraim. As wise as he was, he had already seen the boy's absent-mindedness. "That is, your direct ancestor, the 'Lost Dragon' Vildrid Aragon."
"I know him." Rodgraim's violet eyes lit up, finally reaching his favorite family anecdote. "In order to avoid assassination by people with ulterior motives, his mother, a noblewoman who also came from the Dragon King family but did not have a dragon, broke the dragon egg left by Dragon King Vildrid to her son. Of course, he failed to hatch a dragon. "The boy said in his heart.
"The army disappeared in Archadia, and no one saw Dragon King Vildrid and his red dragon again. Therefore, he once ranked seventh among the forty dragon kings and had one hundred and fifty adult dragons at his peak. The Aragon family has declined." The old scholar sighed and turned to the next page of the big book, continuing to tell the history of the Aragon family after they moved to the Walls of the High Heavens
".At the time of Theos Aragon's death, the Aragon family had accumulated huge wealth. Not only did they own a large area of fertile land from the Lorne River to the Valanna River, but they also owned twelve sugar beet estates. Twenty-five wine estates, six silk workshops, two privately owned woods, one gold mine, two silver mines, and seven rich iron mines."
The old scholar turned the book to the last page.
"Cleolius Aragon, the most legendary head of the family in family history. Some say he is a madman, some say he is a genius, and some say he is a terrifying wizard. In the first twenty years, he He was a libertine who squandered two- thirds of the family's wealth. In the intervening twenty years, he was a miracle worker who tripled the wealth of the Aragon family based on Gaimon. The glass he made was crystal clear. It is sold as far away as Slaver's Bay and the nine Free Trade Cities. The silver wine he brews is mellow and sweet, and even the Winfor King is fascinated by it. He triples the production of silk, with silver dragons and bay leaves. The luxurious silk with patterns was even sold far away, increasing the output of wheat, rice, sugar beet, and saffron every year. The smelting method he designed doubled the output of gold and silver mines. His improved metal smelting process, He can forge steel that is second only to Archdian steel and Servtu blood steel, and the ship he designed can be as good as the Purple Sail Warship of Volvander and the Hulber Ship of the Summer Islands.
"If I hadn't witnessed the glory of the old master with my own eyes, I probably wouldn't have believed that a nobleman who had never received a city education could do this." Dr. Vesalius said in his mind as he spoke.
"He organized the great voyage to Berdulin and Titania, and earned countless gold from sea trade. He liberated the slaves of his family and promoted them to indentured workers and servants. And among them Six thousand brave boys were selected from them. From that day on, Volvander' Silver Blood Army and the Weeper were born. The nobles in the Black Wall said that he was conducting magical experiments semi- publicly. The shadowbinders, cloud mages, fire warlocks, blood wizards, the wizards of Qer, the moonsingers of fordor, and the red monks of the Great Temple have all come and go from his palace. No one knows about you. What did my father want to do until he stormed out of the palace like crazy and stormed into a notorious brothel in Volvander with as much treasure as nine elephants could carry."
"He married our mother." Rodgraim said to himself, staring into the old scholar's eyes. "The mother who died when I was born."
"In my hometown, people call her the 'Whore Princess', and her name is Sorne Aragon." Dr. Vesalius paused, with regret in his eyes.
"She is the ninth daughter of Alaric I, the late king of my hometown. In the first half of her ridiculous life, there were more men around her than her silver hair."
"I know." Rodgraim has never respected his mother. When he was young, he often felt sad because of his mother's past. "Just beside my brother, there are bloodlines left by several mothers. There is also that silver-haired bastard from the former consul's family." The boy cursed.
"Twenty-three years ago, the princess ended her dissolute life in Lys, came to settle in Volvander, and a year later established her own brothel, also known as the infamous 'House of Dragons'. No one understands you Why did your father want to marry a prostitute though she has the blood of the only dragon king family in the world? No one understands the reason why the princess agreed to your father's request and married herself. He was imprisoned for two years to purify his bloodline."
Dr. Vesalius closed the book. "I can't understand it either, but history happened. In the third year of marriage, your brothers Longzel Aragon and Valance Aragon were born. The birth of twins almost killed the elderly princess, who has been bedridden ever since. The old master seemed to have reduced his enthusiasm for his wife and turned his attention to your wise elder brother. Master Longzel was as wise as the old master. When he was 7 years old, he was in charge of all the family's industries and affairs, and when he was 9 years old, he independently completed the trade with Brodwin and Lyr. In the last days of his life, the old master gave all his wisdom to your elder brother until he died in his laboratory. Hmm? Where are you going?"
The old scholar's voice stopped abruptly, and the silver-haired boy suddenly jumped up like a monkey and ran towards the main courtyard regardless of anything.
The silver dragon statue in his sleeve suddenly became hot, as if it was burning, and Rodgraim immediately realized what was happening. "My brother is back. I'll go see him. Master Vesalius, we'll make up for today's class tomorrow." Rodgraim's crisp voice echoed in the corridor where stone pillars and vines intertwined.
The old scholar smiled bitterly and shook his head. He whispered, "But your class today is over." He adjusted his gray robe and necklace. Longzel was his master, so he naturally needed to go and greet him.
The silver dragon statue in his sleeve was getting hotter and hotter, but Rodgraim didn't feel any pain, but felt very comfortable.
The boy ran through the corridor and just turned around the giant dragon statue carved with dragon crystal. A round thing rolled to the boy's feet.
Rodgraim's heart seemed to be grasped by a pair of big hands in an instant. His hands involuntarily raised up to cover his mouth, and he forcibly suppressed the scream that had reached his throat.
It was a human head.