Chapter 304: Post-war Arrangements

"Well, I really have you to thank for that!" Ron's mouth twitched. He'd thought he would be hearing news of the Golden Dragon's death one day!

"You're far too kind," the Golden Dragon's humor was fleeting. He suddenly remembered something and his expression turned serious again. "Oh, and if you should meet another golden dragon—or a Canary—who comes to visit Aiksuuri, please, do not mention that I was injured."

"He's my superior, and also my great-grandfather. If he finds out, he'll worry, and I'll get a scolding."

That wasn't a problem, so Ron agreed. It was perfectly normal not to want your elders to worry when you were far from home. If the roles were reversed, Ron wouldn't want to have to explain things to his own great-grandfather, either.

The Golden Dragon relayed a few more details about Aiksuuri, then unfurled his immense, sky-darkening wings. A sonic boom and a whirlwind tore through the ruins of New Green Swamp Town as the mighty creature shot into the air, vanishing from sight in a heartbeat.

"Ah, Old Jin's gone already? He didn't even say goodbye," Mazarino said wistfully, walking over to stand beside Ron and gaze at the sky. "But I suppose it makes sense. From our mortal perspective, it seems like Giant Dragons, being among the most powerful creatures, are completely free. But in reality, they have their own jobs and lives, too."

"You're a chosen of the Magic Goddess; cut the talk about 'us mortals'," Ron shot the Elder Mage a sidelong glance. "Speaking of which, how's that task your goddess gave you coming along?"

"Regaining my power, let alone refining it further? It's easier said than done," Mazarino said with a wry smile. "Besides, I have a new problem—I contacted some friends on other planes a while back. Turns out the Cloud Giant I stole from is now hunting me across the worlds."

"He won't find his way here, will he?" Upon hearing this, Ron grew restless. He instinctively glanced toward the Hill Giant, which was busy stuffing its face to recover its strength—a Cloud Giant was far more terrifying than this one.

"It's hard to say." Mazarino couldn't be sure, and his brow furrowed even more deeply. "Which is why I wanted to bring this up with you. Thank you for your hospitality, but I'm preparing to resign my post and flee to another world to lie low for a while."

"Cloud Giants pride themselves on their nobility. Even if he does track me here, as long as he doesn't find me personally, he won't make trouble for any of you. You just need to give him this string of numbers: 'Z7-P1-8934'. I'll leave a clue on the plane at those coordinates. He won't bother you after that."

The Traveling Mage smiled apologetically. "But please, don't worry. I'm not in as much of a hurry as Old Jin. The town is almost completely destroyed. I think I should still have time to help you rebuild it. That way, I can consider my job well and truly done."

"Of course, it would be even better if you could get that Elf to help. Then I'd have more time to plan my getaway, haha."

"I can't guarantee she'll agree," Ron said, glancing over at Jilannis, "but don't worry. The territory's focus is definitely shifting this way. You won't be short of helpers during the reconstruction."

"That's wonderful!" Mazarino departed gratefully and immediately ran off to find Annie to discuss the rebuilding efforts. He truly didn't have much time to spare.

Meanwhile, Rurik had already been taken by Kao Jia and his devils to the trading post to deliver the ore. Seeing they had not yet returned, Ron turned his attention to the two races that had sacrificed the most in the defense: the goblins and the Kobolds.

Though individually weak and ill-reputed, these creatures had, for their own reasons, proven incredibly loyal during the territory's many crises. Ron was more than happy to repay their kindness in any way he could—for instance, by repairing the Kobolds' battered canyon and erecting an even larger statue of "The Great Aiksuuri."

Although the little dragon they worshipped hadn't actually participated in the battle, all the Kobolds believed that they could never have been victorious without the wise and brilliant Dragon Race directing them from behind the scenes.

In contrast to the goblins and Kobolds, who were focused on the outcome and joyfully celebrating their victory, the Beastman Priest and Zandia were far more somber.

The exceptionally strong Centaur from before had been Zandia's deceased father, the former chief of the Centaur Tribe. The Beastman Priest, in turn, had found his own former leader among the pile of bodies. The source of the new feud between their tribes was finally clear.

"Undead Creatures... a Witch Demon..." After hearing Ron's explanation, a dejected look crossed the Beastman Priest's face. "So that's it. The entire timeline finally makes sense."

"The former Centaur chief died of unknown causes, was reanimated by the Witch Demon to attack us, and then killed our leader. The Split Tooth Tribe, of course, would not take that lying down, so we retaliated by attacking their camp outside Fromm."

"And all our warriors became nothing but pawns for a cunning undead!" Zandia, still lying on the ground, pounded a fist against the earth in frustration. All four of her hooves were injured to varying degrees; even with Healing Potions and Magic, it would be a while before she could stand. "We completely lost our heads!"

"You can't be blamed for that. The two tribes have always had friction; it's perfectly normal that you suspected each other first," Ron said. "But now that things are clear, what do you plan to do next? Fight each other to the death?"

"The feud between our tribes runs deep. It can't be cleansed in a generation or two, not even with blood," the Beastman Priest said, shaking his head wearily. "Times are hard. It's difficult enough just to survive."

The old Beastman looked up at Ron. "Lord, we are all deeply impressed by the restraint you have shown. Even under these circumstances, you still gave us a chance to live. I was wondering... if your territory is in need of more people, might our Split Tooth Tribe be allowed to settle here?"

"Please believe me, we are not the rude savages that rumors claim. Even if some of our customs conflict with the traditions of your domain, we will do our best to adapt. Most importantly, we are all natural-born Hunters and Warriors, much stronger than goblins and Kobolds. You will surely have use for us."

"If you can guarantee that nothing like this will happen again, I see no reason to refuse," Ron said with a smile, then turned to Zandia. "And what about you? Do you plan to stay as well?"

"I'd love to..." Zandia returned his smile, a bit bashfully. "But you see, our hooves have a hard time with this terrain. Unlike the Centaurs in Cloud Port who are accustomed to city life, our clan much prefers wide-open plains and the Gobi. Swamps and rainforests are just..."

"I understand," Ron nodded. The anatomy of the Centaur meant the race couldn't adapt to just any environment. "In that case, why don't you rest here for a while before you set out? My territory is still in its early days, but we're certainly better-provisioned than you are right now."

"I'll also write a letter of recommendation for you to the City-State Alliance in the south. I can't guarantee it will help, but it should save you from a great deal of trouble."