Chương 75: Antlers Beneath the Aurora

Antlers and teeth. Kichan could not simply walk past either word. Especially not when Argaon had brought them up first. If a dragon who claimed to know every material in the world went out of his way to mention a place, it was unlikely to hold cheap scraps. Kichan walked a little farther before stopping.

"Where are they?" Argaon pointed his chin toward the northern range. The morning sun had not yet risen far, leaving the peaks washed in cold blue. Frostlike mist still lay between the valleys.

"Beyond those mountains is a highland where the light of the sky descends close to the earth at night."

"The light of the sky?" Riphiel answered quietly.

"He means the aurora." Argaon nodded.

"On some nights, the light lies very low. Beasts that watch it for many years come to hold both cold and light in their bodies. The antlers of the reindeer glow faintly, and the tips of the wolves' fur turn white as though soaked in light." Kichan went straight to the practical question.

"Does that make them good materials?"

"By your standards, they should be."

"Why didn't you say so earlier?" Riphiel listened to the exchange before cautiously stepping in.

"It would be difficult to treat the northern highlands as nothing more than a hunting ground." Kichan asked bluntly,"Why?"

"The human border overlaps with the demihuman roads there. Merchants and guides pass through, and every winter there are rumors of each side blocking the other's routes." Kichan's expression soured at once.

"What are the humans doing now?" Riphiel lowered her eyes. Things she had heard from the Holy See and things dropped by travelers mixed together in her mind.

"I do not know who started it. But many say the fighting has grown more frequent lately. There are also rumors of missing children."

"So we have to be careful."

"We just don't get involved." Even as he said it, Kichan stared directly at the mountains. It would be best if they could enter, collect materials, and leave without getting tangled in anything. The problem was the peculiar smile Argaon had been wearing for some time. Argaon spoke low.

"It rarely ends that easily."

"It sounds more suspicious when you say it."

"You will still go." Instead of answering, Kichan tapped the magic bag. The valley materials alone would last several days. Rock salt and red herbs could provide basic flavor, and the garlic-flavored roots worked in anything from soup to grilled food. But the thought of adding antlers that held light and white wolf teeth made his feet move first. The saber-toothed tiger lifted its forepaws as though it had sensed Kichan's mood. A new road carried new smells.

Valkyrie bounced at the end of his sleeve, while Dust refused to leave the horn fragment inside the bag. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Kichan glanced at Argaon.

"Does the reindeer taste good too?"

"Its fat is cold."

"Was that what I asked?"

"I knew you would ask it eventually." Kichan touched the cord of the bag as if avoiding the answer. Argaon was not wrong. Teeth and antlers were obviously materials, but catching one also meant meat. If its fat was cold, even the cooking method might be different. Riphiel tried once more.

"Are you truly going?"

"We just look around and collect materials."

"That 'just looking' has always been the problem."

"This time I mean it." Riphiel said nothing more. Whenever Kichan said he meant it, he usually did not—not from malice, but because another material inevitably caught his eye along the way. Before choosing the road, Kichan sat on a rock and loosened his wrist. The shock from hammering dragon scales the day before still lingered. While rubbing his bruised arm, he took the horn fragment from the bag. Fine water-blue grain ran beneath its black surface. Sunlight did not flash from it like glass.

The light lingered as if deep under water.

"What could I make if I used this with those antlers?" Argaon thought for a moment. While the dragon searched his long memory, even Riphiel waited in silence.

"A vessel that holds light." Kichan's hand froze.

"A vessel?"

"It should preserve either aurora light or cold for a long time." Kichan returned the horn to the bag and cinched it shut. That one word was enough. In his mind, the vessel took on other forms. It could be cookware. It could be material storage. It would never end as a decorative object that merely looked nice.

"Let's go." Riphiel sighed deeply.

"That decision was far too fast."

"If you're late to a material, someone else eats it first."

"Something larger than a person may already be eating it in the north." Argaon gave a peculiar laugh. It bothered Kichan slightly, but it was already too late to back out. The party turned onto the northern mountain road. Once morning fully arrived, the scent of the valley receded behind them. In its place rose the cold trapped in stone, dry pine needles, and old earth. The lower path was gentle, but soon filled with rocks. The saber-toothed tiger bounded between them.

Valkyrie flattened its droplet body against Kichan's shoulder. Argaon walked quietly in the crude shoes they had made him. He still did not pass perfectly for human, but he looked less uncanny than when they first met. Odd moments still slipped through. He would turn his head too quickly at a passing bird, or lift his nose openly toward the sky to catch a scent. Each time, Kichan tossed out a correction.

"That gives you away." Argaon would put on his learning face again.

"Humans do not smell the air that way."

"We do. Just not as obviously as you." Listening to them left Riphiel with a strange exhaustion. A human teaching a dragon to imitate humans. An elf beside them correcting the limits of common sense. Dust guarding a horn fragment inside a bag. It was not quite the journey she had imagined. Near midday, they rested beneath a sunny ledge. Kichan took a bottle of valley water and some dried fish from the magic bag. Valkyrie dampened the rim of his cup.

The saber-toothed tiger paid more attention to the surrounding scents than to the fish. Argaon sat on a rock and listened to the wind coming down from the north. Even while resting, Kichan kept asking questions.

"How big are the reindeer antlers?"

"It varies."

"The big ones?"

"Wider than your outstretched arms." Kichan's eyes changed again.

"Then one pair would give me plenty." Riphiel cut in immediately.

"Should you not discover one before deciding to catch it?"

"Once we find it, the next part is obvious." Argaon laughed low.

"It seems you have already finished half the butchering in your head."

"You have to imagine a material in advance, or you'll miss things." Kichan bit the end of a strip of fish. Even with valley materials left, his hand was already on the cord of the magic bag. Reindeer antler for a vessel. Wolf teeth for grinding or crushing. Fur for insulation. He had not seen any of it, and his hands were already calculating. Riphiel warned him again.

"Beasts are not the only things that may entangle us in the north. If there is a market, there are people."

"Then we avoid the people."

"That is not always possible." Kichan went quiet. Riphiel had noticed the subtle stiffness in his face whenever anyone mentioned a human border. Memories of the Holy See, the disturbance in the capital, the way trouble grew once people began talking—Kichan disliked all of it. But disliking something and giving up materials were separate matters. Near noon, he slowed and tapped the bag again. Not because he doubted the materials inside, but because he could feel the true long journey beginning.

"How long to the northern highlands?" Argaon answered,"It will be shorter if we hurry, and longer whenever you stop to look at a material." Kichan shot back,"That's because you mention the good ones too late." Argaon smiled.

"That is why I am warning you in advance this time." Kichan asked nothing more. It was enough. Glowing reindeer antlers. White wolf teeth. Materials that could hold cold light. And a northern market where human and demihuman roads crossed. The more trouble a place promised, the better its materials often were. He pressed the opening of the bag one last time.

"Can't afford to miss them."