Martial Arts Vs Magic - Chapter 136

Chapter 136 – A Draconic Dilemma

The teacup hit the floor with a crystalline crash, amber liquid spreading across polished marble like spilled sunlight. I watched the fragments scatter, catching the dying light through the window.

"Well," I said, pushing off the doorframe, "that's seven years of bad luck. Though I suppose dragons measure time differently."

“We dragons and elves actually do. Otherwise, I won’t meet the 50-year requirement of the Arcane Tournament,” she replied softly and snapped her finger as the broken cup rearranged itself. My next words made the cup shatter mid-way through.

“You’re older than fifty? Impossible.”

Amelia's purple eyes narrowed, but I caught the twitch at the corner of her mouth. She was fighting a smile. "How presumptuous. Do I know you, stranger?"

"You tell me." I stepped over the broken porcelain, glass crunching under my boots. "I'm just a humble tournament participant who got terribly lost. These floating islands all look the same after a while."

"Lost?" She tilted her head, golden hair cascading over one shoulder. "How convenient. Lost men usually don't find their way to the third floor of the most exclusive tea house in Aethelgard."

"What can I say? I have excellent taste in establishments." I gestured at the spreading puddle. "Though apparently not in timing."

"Apparently not." She finally let the smile break free, transforming her face from regal beauty to something achingly familiar. "You always did have a talent for dramatic entrances."

"And you always did have expensive tastes in tableware."

The hallway filled with footsteps. "Your Highness! We heard—" Two guards in golden scale armor froze, taking in the scene. Their eyes went from the broken cup to me, and steel rang as swords cleared sheaths. "Step away from the Princess!"

I wondered where these guards had been before. They weren’t guarding the door. Given Amelia’s distaste for room service, she probably told them to remain away as well. As if fate wanted me to have this smooth entry. "Gentlemen, please." I raised my hands in mock surrender. "We were just discussing the weather."

"Silence!" The larger guard grabbed my arm, yanking me back. "You dare intrude on—"

Amelia's laughter cut through the tension like silk. Both guards froze, looking at their princess as if she'd grown a second head.

"Release him this instant," she said, voice dancing with amusement. "I summoned him."

The guards exchanged bewildered glances. The one holding me loosened his grip but didn't let go entirely. "Your Highness, we weren't informed—"

"Must I inform you of every private meeting?" Her tone shifted, gaining an edge of authority that made both men straighten. "Or have the standards of the royal guard fallen so low that they manhandle my guests?"

They released me as if I'd turned to molten metal. "Our deepest apologies, Your Highness! We didn't—"

"Leave us." She waved a dismissive hand. "And ensure we're not disturbed."

They bowed low and retreated, pulling the door shut with exaggerated care. I heard their armored footsteps fade down the corridor, probably wondering what madness had seized their princess.

I turned back to find Amelia already moving, her fingers tracing patterns in the air. Golden light followed her gestures, and I felt the subtle shift as privacy wards snapped into place. The sounds of the tea house faded to nothing.

"There." She lowered her hand. "Now we can speak freely."

“The Gold Dragons will think their Princess is being scandalous.”

"You got your right arm back?" She stepped closer while ignoring my comment, her eyes tracing the limb that had been missing when last we met.

"It's a long story." I flexed my fingers, still marveling at the sensation myself sometimes. "Involving a sweet Jinn girl, a Leviathan Remnant, a floating city, an android with identity issues, and more blood than I care to remember."

"Everything with you is a long story." She reached out, hesitating just before her fingers touched my hand. "May I?"

I nodded. Her touch was gentle, clinical almost, as she examined the regenerated limb. But I felt the tremor in her fingers, the careful control she maintained.

"Perfect regeneration," she murmured. "No scarring, no mana displacement. Considering you lost it to a Holy Knight… How?"

"The Heavenly Demon Body has its advantages." I caught her hand before she could pull away. "Though I'd rather discuss other things."

She didn't pull back. For a moment, we stood there, her hand in mine, the weight of all that was unsaid pressing down like a Demigod’s willpower. The air between us crackled with more than magic.

"Want some tea?" She finally asked, gently extracting her hand and moving to a side table where another pot waited. "This blend is from the Eastern Provinces. Much too fine to waste on the floor."

"I was expecting a kiss, to be honest."

She laughed, a sound like golden bells. "My father would murder you if he heard that."

"I've survived worse." I accepted the cup she offered, inhaling the delicate aroma. "Though I suppose antagonizing an Arcane King might be pushing my luck."

"Might be?" She settled into a chair by the window, gesturing for me to join her. "Iskandaar, what have you been up to lately?"

I took the seat across from her. Outside, the impossible beauty of Aethelgard spread before us—floating islands connected by bridges of solidified flame, dragons wheeling through air thick with power.

"Would you believe me if I said I missed you?"

"I'd believe you're avoiding the question." But her smile softened the words. "Even if you’re here for Solara, you shouldn't be here. You know that. I knew you’d take part in the Regional Tournament, so I was going to meet you anyway. More privately."

"I know a lot of things I choose to ignore." I sipped the tea. It tasted like moonlight and memories. "For instance, I know you're deflecting. You returned to Aethelgard, Amelia. After decades of running, you came back… for me. Why?"

The mask slipped. For just a moment, I saw exhaustion in her eyes, a bone-deep weariness that made my chest tight. Then she straightened, the princess reasserting herself over the woman.

"You know why."

"Yes, I met Aurelius. Lovely dude. But tell me anyway."

She looked surprised to hear I had met her fiancé. Initially, I thought she’d arranged that, but well, I did stumble upon that garden by accident. She slowly set down her cup with deliberate care. "My father, Sahrazzakhan, rules the Gold Dragons. Has for millennia. When I fled the engagement and… left to pursue my education, to build a life outside these floating prisons, he let me go. Do you know why?"

I waited.

"Because he loves me." Her laugh was bitter. "He loves me enough to let me play at being human, knowing I'd eventually return. And I did, didn't I? Walked right back into this beautiful cage."

"For Solara."

"For both of you." The admission seemed to surprise her. She looked away, studying the view as if seeing it for the first time. "When I saw you restrained by Holy Light while staring at Solara’s broken body with rage and sadness, when I saw you in so much pain, what saving that city had cost you... I couldn't let that sacrifice be meaningless."

"So you sacrificed yourself instead,” I said. “Despite not knowing the exact reason why I sacrificed so many people.”

"Don't be dramatic." But her voice lacked conviction. "I’m an 8th Ascension Dragon who knows how magic works. Although when I first saw you do that, for a moment I nearly lost my mind, I quickly realized you were on our side. My side. So how could I hate you…? I made a strategic decision. Solara needed healing only dragon magic could provide. You needed time to recover, away from those who'd hunt you. And I..."

"You needed to face what you'd been running from."

She turned back to me, and the pain in her eyes made me want to reach for her. "The engagement to Aurelius isn't just politics, Iskandaar. It's a cornerstone alliance between Gold and Silver, two clans that nearly destroyed each other in the War of Falling Stars. My marriage seals a peace that's kept the northern and southern continents from burning."

"Aurelius seems like a decent sort," I said carefully. "For someone who'd rather be reading romance novels."

Her eyes widened. "You saw him reading those?"

"He found me wandering his private gardens. We had an illuminating conversation about the burden of expectations." I paused. "And about preferences that don't align with dynastic requirements."

"Of course he did." She buried her face in her hands. "That man has no sense of discretion."

"He cares about you. In his way."

"We're friends, nothing more. Have been since we were hatchlings." She looked up. "But friendship doesn't dissolve political necessity. My father wants grandchildren, wants the bloodlines united. And after everything—the wars, the treaties, the delicate balance we maintain—how can I deny him that?"

"By saying no."

"It's not that simple—"

"It's exactly that simple." I set down my cup harder than necessary. "You're treating this like you have no choice."

"Because I don't!" The words exploded from her. "Do you understand what's at stake? It's not just my happiness, it's the stability of two continents. Being born a Princess doesn’t simply come with power, but responsibilities. How can I only enjoy one and ignore the other? And now, with you here..." She pressed her palms against her eyes. "Gods, why did you come? I would have sent Solara out once she fully recovered anyway…”

"You know why."

"That's not an answer."

"Then let me be clearer." I leaned forward. "I came not just because of Solara, if she were truly the only reason, I wouldn’t have bothered finding you after learning you have a fiancé. But I came because leaving you to fight alone isn't an option. Not after what you've done. Not after what we—" I stopped, the words catching in my throat.

She lowered her hands, meeting my gaze. "What we what, Iskandaar?"

The silence stretched taut between us. Everything I wanted to say crowded behind my teeth, fighting for release. Three simple words that would shatter whatever careful distance we maintained. In the end… it wasn’t as if we had anything solid between us. Amelia was just a flirty teacher, and I was her flirty student who happened to share a kiss or two.

"Solara," she said suddenly, breaking the spell. "You came for Solara. She's awake, you know. Has been for three days. The healers say she's recovering remarkably well."

The deflection was transparent, but I let her have it. "Is she safe?"

"As safe as anyone can be here. She's under my protection, listed as my student. Even the court gossips can't find fault with a princess sponsoring a phoenix's recovery." She managed a wan smile. "Would you like to see her?"

"Yes. But not yet."

She blinked. "What?"

"There's something else we need to discuss first." I stood, pacing to the window. The view was breathtaking, but I barely saw it. "Tell me about the real danger. Not the politics or the engagement. Tell me why you're actually afraid."

Her silence was answer enough.

"Amelia."

"You don't understand." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "The reports from Merasca have reached every corner of the realm. The Heavenly Demon who slaughtered hundreds, who wielded power that shouldn't exist. Both Emperors want your head."

"Let them try."

"Stop." She was on her feet now, closing the distance between us. "Just stop. This isn't a game. The Ethenian Emperor lost dozens of noble children in that plaza. The Erebian Emperor's seventh son barely escaped with his life. They've formally requested that any kingdom harboring you turn you over immediately."

"And your father?"

"My father..." She laughed, but there was no humor in it. "My father has two Arcane Kings breathing down his neck. He's not afraid, after all, nothing in this world frightens Sahrazzakhan. But he is pragmatic. If he discovers I brought you here, if he learns what you mean to me..."

She stopped, eyes widening as she realized what she'd said.

"What do I mean to you?"

"Don't." She turned away. "Please don't."

"Amelia—"

"You have to leave." The words tumbled out in a rush. "Take Solara and go. You have Nevaramis, a floating fortress beyond any kingdom's reach. You can protect her better than I can. Now that she’s awake, you should be able to do the rest of the treatment on your own. Keep her safe while I handle things here."

"Handle things." I tasted the words, found them bitter. "You mean marry Aurelius."

"It's not—" She spun back to face me. "What would you have me do? Start a war? Watch everything burn because I'm too selfish to do my duty?"

"I'd have you stop martyring yourself."

"I'm not—"

"You are." I caught her shoulders, gentle but firm. "You've been sacrificing yourself so long you've forgotten there might be another way."

Amelia's eyes flashed. "That's rich coming from a man who collects women like trophies. Why does my arrangement bother you so much anyway, when you have Nebula waiting for you? And Solara? And Lilian? And who knows who else." She stepped closer, voice dropping. "At least be honest about what this is, Iskandaar. Is it me you want, or just the challenge of claiming another woman?"

I flinched as if struck. "...That's not fair."

"Isn't it?" She opened her mouth to insult me more, but perhaps there was something in my expression that made her eyes tremble. She looked away. "Ugh… I've watched you since Lockdarn, Iskandaar. I've seen how you draw people to you, how effortlessly you inspire loyalty and... more. But this isn't just about us, please understand. My father may be overbearing, but his alliance prevents bloodshed between two ancient powers."

"I understand that better than you think," I said quietly. "But there's a difference between duty and sacrifice. When you wanted to stay behind at Lockdarn to face the Vampiric Father on your own, when you took all that risk to save me at Merasca, when you sheltered Solara despite the risk… those weren't just duties. They were choices that defined you."

Amelia stared at me silently. I hoped that, at the very least, my noticing these things brought her some comfort, even if it was the bare minimum. 

"There… there is no other way. I’ve been running for nearly a century, so I know." Tears gathered in her eyes but didn't fall. "If I run with you, we'll have both Emperors, my father, and the entire Silver Dragon clan hunting us. How long do you think we'd last?"

"Longer than you think."

"This isn't one of your stories, Iskandaar. There's no clever trick that solves this. No perfect ending where everyone lives happily."

"I know." I released her, stepping back. "But there's something you're not considering."

"What?"

"I met your fiancé. Had a lovely chat about books and preferences." I watched as she stared at me. "He didn't arrange our meeting, did he? He told me where to find you, and… you know why he did that."

"That manipulative silver snake." But there was fondness in her exasperation.

"He truly is a good friend. He wants you free as much as you want him free. Which means this isn't as hopeless as you're making it seem."

"Even if Aurelius and I could find a way to break the engagement without causing a diplomatic catastrophe, it doesn't solve the larger problem. You're still wanted by two Empires. My father would still be obligated to act if he discovered you."

"Then I'll make sure he doesn't want to act."

She stared at me. "What? That’s not how things work at the larger scale, Iskandaar. Don’t worry too much. I believe I’ll find a way out of this engagement myself or… well, worst case scenario, I’ll just marry Aurelius. It’s not as if he’s a bad man. All my father wants are grandchildren anyway, and even if Aurelius likes men, it’s not as if he’s sterile. So I’ll give father what he wants, and…”

"Tell me something," I said, voice low. "If there were no empires depending on your marriage, no father's expectations to fulfill. What would you choose?"

The question hung between us, dangerous in its simplicity. I watched her face as she processed it, the way her composure faltered for just a moment.

"That's a cruel question," she whispered.

"It's the only question that matters."

She turned away, but not before I caught the shimmer in her eyes. 

"Amelia, you realize your reaction is answer enough, don’t you? It doesn't have to be that way."

"Doesn't it?" She faced me again, centuries of resignation in her eyes. "My people would suffer if–"

"Your people will prosper under a ruler who chooses her own path," I insisted. "A queen who understands freedom creates stronger bonds than one shackled by obligation. Your father’s era would come to an end one day, be it a hundred years from now or ten thousand. You’d rule then. Would you be happy?"

“What does my happiness matter to you, Iskandaar Romani? You’re just–”

“Amelia,” I interrupted her. "You're mine, Amelia." The words fell between us like stones into still water. She went very still, eyes wide.

"You can't just say something like that."

"I can. I have that much power, at least." I moved closer, watching her breath catch. "You think I survived everything I have just to walk away? You think I'll let you marry someone else, have children with someone else, live a life that's a beautifully decorated lie?"

"Iskandaar…"

"No." The word came out harder than I intended. "I've been patient. I've been understanding. But I'm done watching you sacrifice yourself. You want to protect me? Fine. I'll protect you right back."

"How?" The word was barely a whisper. "How could you possibly do that?"

"I've already won the tournament outside. I’ll win the regional championship too. Then the Arcane Tournament, if necessary. Or whatever else your father throws at me." I touched her cheek, thumb brushing away a tear that had finally escaped. "I'm going to become someone even an Arcane King has to respect."

"That's impossible."

"I specialize in impossible." I pulled my hand back, already missing the warmth of her skin. "Take care of Solara. Keep her safe and healing. I'll handle the rest."

"You can't just decide something like this on your own, Iskandaar Romani."

"Watch me."

I turned toward the door, my steps feeling like tearing away pieces of myself.

"Iskandaar!"

I paused, hand on the door handle.

"This is insane. You're going to get yourself killed."

I looked back, letting her see everything in my eyes. The determination, the fury, the love I hadn't spoken aloud.

"Maybe. But I'd rather die trying than live knowing I let you go."

****

The moon hung over Aethelgard like a silver coin, its light catching on the crystalline bridges and turning them to paths of frozen starlight. I walked without destination, letting my feet carry me through districts that shifted from opulent to practical.

My mind churned with the weight of my promise. Sahrazzakhan, the Gold Dragon King. Even the name carried weight, pressing down on reality like a mountain given form. In the game, he'd been mostly a background figure, mentioned but rarely seen. Here, he was Amelia's father, and that made him my problem.

Win the tournament. Impress an Arcane King. Simple.

Except would merely winning impress a being of that calibre? That logic itself is stupid. I laughed, the sound bitter in the empty street. Nothing about this was simple. I'd thrown myself against impossible odds before, but this felt different. 

The sounds of conflict pulled me from my brooding. Raised voices echoed from a plaza ahead, the kind of tension that preceded violence. I should have walked away. I had enough problems without borrowing others.

But the voices were speaking Valtherian, the harsh consonants unmistakable. The barbarians from the tournament.

I rounded the corner to find them squared off against five dragons in humanoid form. The dragons wore the casual arrogance of those born to power, while the Valtherians stood like coiled springs, ready to explode into motion.

"—dare bring dragon slayers here!" One of the dragons, scales of deep bronze showing at his collar, jabbed a finger at Moui. "Your very presence is an insult!"

Moui, massive even among his own people, kept his voice level despite the provocation. "We come as warriors, not hunters. The Volcanic Island’s ways do not reflect us when we outside—"

"The Volcanic Island’s ways saw our kin skinned for armor!" The bronze dragon's companion, younger and more volatile, stepped forward. "Your tribe bathed in dragon blood!"

"And dragons burned our islands!" Yavanna snarled, her hand moving to the volcanic glass blade at her hip. "You speak of old wounds while standing on stolen land!"

This was escalating fast. I could see it in the way both groups shifted, preparing for a fight that would end with someone dead and everyone in trouble. Dragon law was clear about violence outside sanctioned matches.

"Fascinating discussion," I said, strolling between them like I had every right to be there. "But perhaps we could have it without the imminent bloodshed? I just had my clothes cleaned."

Every eye turned to me. The dragons' expressions ranged from outrage to confusion. The Valtherians looked ready to add me to whatever violence they were planning.

"Who—" The bronze dragon started.

"Someone who'd rather not see anyone executed tonight." I positioned myself at the exact point where any attack would have to go through me. "Especially over what sounds like a misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding?" Yavanna's voice could have curdled milk. "These scale-wearing fucks—"

"Language, lady," I interrupted, which earned me a glare that promised creative violence. "Look, everyone here has legitimate grievances. Dragons killed Valtherians. Valtherians killed dragons. If we catalog every historical wrong, we'll be here until the next Arcane Tournament."

"You dare lecture us about our own history?" The younger dragon stepped forward, and I felt the pressure of his power. Early Seventh Ascension.

"I dare point out that you're about to make history repeat itself." I met his gaze steadily. "In the middle of Aethelgard, where the penalty for unsanctioned violence is death. For both sides."

That gave them pause. The bronze dragon's eyes narrowed. "You're that outsider. The one with the white petals."

"Guilty. And you are?"

"Kethrax of the Bronze Flight." He said it like it should mean something. "These... people... were speaking their barbarian tongue in our sacred spaces."

"Your sacred space is a public plaza," Moui rumbled. "We spoke our own language among ourselves."

"Which included words of power. Dragon-slaying words."

I looked between them, pieces clicking into place. "Let me guess. Someone overheard Valtherian battle-speech and assumed it was a threat?"

Silence.

"We were discussing tomorrow's matches," one of the other Valtherians said. A man with scars that told stories. "In our tongue."

"Using words that translate to 'dragon-render' and 'scale-breaker,'" Kethrax accused.

"Those are technique names!" Yavanna exploded. "Ancient forms from before your kind ever—"

"Enough." I held up a hand. "So. Valtherians discussing fighting techniques in their own language. Dragons overhearing words that, out of context, sound threatening. Everyone gets offended, honor gets involved, and now we're thirty seconds from a bloodbath."

"Oversimplified," Kethrax said, but some heat had left his voice.

"Most problems are." I turned to Moui. "Your people here for the tournament, yes? Not to reignite ancient feuds?"

The big man smiled widely and nodded. "We seek glory in honorable combat. Nothing more."

"And you," I faced the dragons, "are concerned about security. Understandable, given history. But these warriors passed the same trials everyone else did. They're here legitimately."

"That doesn't mean—"

"It means exactly what it means." I let steel enter my voice. "They have every right to speak their language, practice their forms, and compete for glory. Just as you have every right to be suspicious. What nobody has is the right to start a fight that ends with executions."

The groups exchanged glares, but the immediate tension had passed. Violence delayed, if not prevented.

"You should be careful," Kethrax said finally, the words aimed at the Valtherians. "Not everyone will pause to consider context."

"And you should remember," Yavanna shot back, "that not every word in our language is about you, Bronze Dragon."

The dragons left first, Kethrax shooting me a look that might have been respect or warning. The Valtherians remained, tension slowly bleeding from their stances.

"You," Moui said, studying me with dark eyes, "either very brave or very stupid."

"If I had a nickel for everytime I heard that phrase…”

He laughed, a sound like boulders tumbling down a mountain. "I am Moui Valteria. This my sister, Yavanna, and my cousins, Royua and Gralani."

"Sunder," I replied, sticking with the alias. "Pleasure to prevent your executions."

"We not scared of those lizards," Yavanna protested, but her brother placed a massive hand on her shoulder.

"No, but we would have been dead." He squeezed gently. "Dragon law is absolute here. Sister's rage would have cost us everything."

She subsided, muttering in Valtherian. I caught maybe one word in ten, but the general sentiment was clear.

"You speak like diplomat," Gralani observed. He was quieter than the others, watching me with intelligent eyes. "But you fight like warrior. Strange combination."

"I'm full of contradictions." I shrugged. "Keeps life interesting."

"Interesting?" Moui tested the word. "Yes! You interesting, Sunder. Come! We seek food when those dragons interrupted. You join us."

It wasn't a question. I considered my options. Brooding alone about impossible promises, or dinner with warriors who might prove useful allies?

"Lead the way."

We found a tavern that catered to outsiders, the kind of place where the food was hearty and nobody asked questions. The Valtherians ordered enough to feed a small army, their appetites matching their frames. Somehow, I surprised them by eating a plate more.

The night grew a little less emotionally taxing, and I was thankful for that.

**

**

**

The Veiled Man: The post likes speak for themselves, but I must still ask, how are you guys liking this arc so far?