The dragon mulled it over. Since leaving its parents' nest, life had been hard. Its damp, smelly cave and diet of tasteless magical beast meat left much to be desired. It longed for the roasted venison its mother used to prepare.
[Deer. I want deer too, roasted.]
Michael nodded eagerly. Compared to the benefits of becoming a dragon knight, the cost was negligible.
"Then please extend your foreleg. It will sting for a moment, but it'll be over quickly."
Hesitant, the dragon finally held out its foreleg.
Michael drew a knife, making a small cut on the dragon's foreleg and his own finger, mingling their blood.
As he did, Miaomiao chanted an incantation:
Haec pactio sub praesentia divinae creaturae conficitur!
[Thus, the contract between Marcus of the dragonkin and Michael von Crassus is complete.]
As Miaomiao's words ended, Michael felt something sear itself onto his soul.
