Ambrosia didn't flinch at the prospect of owning her own flock of dragons. She was by many levels the greatest wizard of her time, which spanned centuries. Living on so high a pedestal for that long of a period gave her confidence unending. Adding Sir Williamdale's warrior prowess to her talents, along with his obsession with killing the creatures, made joining his company a no-brainer.
Now, after traveling thousands of miles, and engaging in countless bloody battles together, she'd successfully trapped four dragon souls. She could have stopped at four. Four was enough to grasp the world over, but five sounded all the sweeter.
There was one massive problem with this, as far as Williamdale was concerned. In combat there is absolutely no reason to be toting around prisoners of war, let alone the ghosts of your defeated enemies. Although the sorceress was sure of her control over the gems, he was equally sure that if they were released the demons wouldn’t want to have a picnic with their captors.
Taking account of how difficult it is to kill one big lizard, four would give zero chance of victory, no matter how he looked at it. Especially when factoring in that a demon reincarnation of any creature is easily twenty times stronger then when it was living. To him, the box in her arms represented a disaster waiting to happen.
“What then, were my men carrying back to Somerlund?” The thought suddenly hit him. Williamdale had to muster every bit of self-control in his body not to scream out.
“And what of the orders," he mumbled. "The orders that I wrote for the king?”
“I wrote a new letter," she said.
"A new letter?"
"Informing him that the last dragon’s death is close at hand, and that everything is proceeding according to plan,” she said. Ambrosia then produced the original scroll that he had given to his men from a fold in her sleeve. His letter was a request to assign a high level of security to the black box until their return.
“What was in the box we sent to the castle?” asked Williamdale, snatching the scroll from her hand.
“Oh, there are four stones in the box. Only they aren’t diamonds, nor do they have souls bound to them.”
“You Foolish witch,” he hissed. “I didn't give you thirty of my men to go back empty handed. That was a full third of my men! Do you have any clue as to what you've done?” Indeed, if not for the bogus errand Sir Williamdale would have nearly a hundred of his best soldiers to contend with the dragon, instead of about seventy. When it came to battle, it was a drastic difference.
“I saved the lives of everyone who will perish, if these stones fall into the wrong hands," she countered. "Like it or not, general, I stand on the side of good.
"I'm beginning to wonder."
"Oh? Would you prefer our little weapons falling into the hands of an ogre? Perhaps a troll, or heavens help us all, a dark elf? We are defenders of the goodly folk, and I intend on keeping the scales tipped in our favor.”
Ambrosia's eyes glared with confidence, and Sir Williamdale couldn’t help but to be impressed at how such delicate, sky blue eyes could also be so fierce at the same time.
“Like it or not, sorceress,” he mocked, “I don’t agree with your deceptive tactics, no matter how sure you are of your reasoning. Let me ask you something. What makes you wise enough to handle the scales of good and evil?"
“Well then who are you, to question my wisdom?” she snapped back. “You are nothing but a machine of death. A tool controlled by your inner rage.”
“My rage fuels me, It’s true,” he said, and was slightly taken aback, wondering if that was all that she thought he was. A simple killing machine.
"I can’t deny my hate for the beasts," he said. "But even though rage fuels me, it doesn’t steer me. There is no ulterior motive. My goal is to rid the world of wrong and make it a safer place. I do good for the sake of doing good. I’m not so vain as to think I control
Now, after traveling thousands of miles, and engaging in countless bloody battles together, she'd successfully trapped four dragon souls. She could have stopped at four. Four was enough to grasp the world over, but five sounded all the sweeter.
There was one massive problem with this, as far as Williamdale was concerned. In combat there is absolutely no reason to be toting around prisoners of war, let alone the ghosts of your defeated enemies. Although the sorceress was sure of her control over the gems, he was equally sure that if they were released the demons wouldn’t want to have a picnic with their captors.
Taking account of how difficult it is to kill one big lizard, four would give zero chance of victory, no matter how he looked at it. Especially when factoring in that a demon reincarnation of any creature is easily twenty times stronger then when it was living. To him, the box in her arms represented a disaster waiting to happen.
“What then, were my men carrying back to Somerlund?” The thought suddenly hit him. Williamdale had to muster every bit of self-control in his body not to scream out.
“And what of the orders," he mumbled. "The orders that I wrote for the king?”
“I wrote a new letter," she said.
"A new letter?"
"Informing him that the last dragon’s death is close at hand, and that everything is proceeding according to plan,” she said. Ambrosia then produced the original scroll that he had given to his men from a fold in her sleeve. His letter was a request to assign a high level of security to the black box until their return.
“What was in the box we sent to the castle?” asked Williamdale, snatching the scroll from her hand.
“Oh, there are four stones in the box. Only they aren’t diamonds, nor do they have souls bound to them.”
“You Foolish witch,” he hissed. “I didn't give you thirty of my men to go back empty handed. That was a full third of my men! Do you have any clue as to what you've done?” Indeed, if not for the bogus errand Sir Williamdale would have nearly a hundred of his best soldiers to contend with the dragon, instead of about seventy. When it came to battle, it was a drastic difference.
“I saved the lives of everyone who will perish, if these stones fall into the wrong hands," she countered. "Like it or not, general, I stand on the side of good.
"I'm beginning to wonder."
"Oh? Would you prefer our little weapons falling into the hands of an ogre? Perhaps a troll, or heavens help us all, a dark elf? We are defenders of the goodly folk, and I intend on keeping the scales tipped in our favor.”
Ambrosia's eyes glared with confidence, and Sir Williamdale couldn’t help but to be impressed at how such delicate, sky blue eyes could also be so fierce at the same time.
“Like it or not, sorceress,” he mocked, “I don’t agree with your deceptive tactics, no matter how sure you are of your reasoning. Let me ask you something. What makes you wise enough to handle the scales of good and evil?"
“Well then who are you, to question my wisdom?” she snapped back. “You are nothing but a machine of death. A tool controlled by your inner rage.”
“My rage fuels me, It’s true,” he said, and was slightly taken aback, wondering if that was all that she thought he was. A simple killing machine.
"I can’t deny my hate for the beasts," he said. "But even though rage fuels me, it doesn’t steer me. There is no ulterior motive. My goal is to rid the world of wrong and make it a safer place. I do good for the sake of doing good. I’m not so vain as to think I control
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