Gardenia’s Heart

Bahamut possessed one of the remaining volumes of the Book of Truth.

When that information finally settled in, the silver-haired girl could not stop unease from taking hold of her.

One of the six copies of the book written by Sylvan, the Archmage, was something the girls had sought for all these years. Still, this was not how they had imagined finding it.

“Nia, are you feeling better? We can go back if you want.” Placing one hand over her heart, Lily asked softly, her other hand firmly intertwined with her daughter’s.

(Mm… I’m fine.)

Although her instincts screamed at her to run, that reaction came from the sheer unreality of Bahamut’s presence—her mind simply could not envision a victorious outcome against her.

Nia had already faced beings who were undeniably stronger than her in certain aspects. Nerine, a fairy capable of becoming the World Tree itself, unquestionably possessed more mana than she did. Moreover, her ability to seal mana was extremely dangerous. However, because she could only project her body in that state and draw out a mere fraction of her power, she was not truly a threat.

Drelkos, on the other hand, wielded undeniably powerful magic. Attacking and devouring souls was a dangerous spell. Still, only the destructive capacity of that magic surpassed her own, and Nia knew that, with the right countermeasure, she could secure victory.

But none of that applied to Bahamut.

More mana than her. More strength than her. When Nia met the dragon woman’s eyes, she could not see a single aspect in which she herself was superior to that hero.

If they fought, she would lose—and because of that, her body remained on high alert simply by staying within the range of that woman’s aura.

(I don’t know how she knows me, but even after everything, she never showed any bloodlust. It doesn’t feel like she wants to attack us.)

Tightening the purple tentacles around Lily, Nia gently extended one toward Rose. The girl laughed happily and stretched out her own. In an instant, alongside their joined hands, two tentacles—one purple and one bluish—also entwined together.

“They really are an unconventional family,” Selene commented awkwardly, scratching her head as she watched the girls leading the group.

“I don’t think anyone here has the right to comment on that, Lady Selene.” For a brief moment, Thelira mirrored Selene’s expression, tightening her grip on her daughter’s hand before quickening her pace.

Even with the appearance of the dragons’ hero, what they needed to do had not changed.

In just a few minutes, they crossed the entire plain, and the sound of many voices blending together finally became clear.

On the open grassy field, the banquet unfolded beneath a star-speckled sky. At its center, bonfires cast orange and golden flames, projecting living shadows across every face.

The tables were like islands of gathering—separated not by walls, but by atmosphere.

Directly ahead of them, a small table with three chairs held an assortment of smoked cheeses and fruit. However, the delicate color patterns that spoke of a bountiful harvest clashed with the mood of those seated there.

Draining a large bottle of alcohol in a single gulp, a long-bearded dwarf waved toward the group with a provocative grin. Beside Ipomoea, another dwarf—much thinner and younger—clung to the elder’s arm, desperately trying to stop him from grabbing another bottle and repeating the feat. Unlike the two of them, a noble girl in a black-and-yellow dress casually picked up a piece of fruit using her fingers like pincers, only to toss it back onto the plate with indifference.

Judging by the number of empty bottles, Lily concluded that the dwarves’ delegation had been there for quite some time.

They were the last to arrive, and as such, it was impossible to avoid having all eyes turn toward them.

At one end of the venue, a group of more than ten people with four wings on their backs sat around a rectangular table. Although various richly scented meats and brilliantly glowing drinks were set before them, none of the indigo-haired dragons touched the food. Their reptilian eyes were fixed solely on the girls who had just entered.

“They really aren’t making any effort to hide their hostility toward us,” Selene murmured, hugging her own body as if trying to escape the discomfort of having so much bloodlust directed at her.

“It’s all right, Lady Selene. None of them can do anything to us, and precisely because of that, they’re resorting to such behavior.” Without letting any discomfort show on her face, Thelira took the lead and guided the group through the area.

A little distance away from the others, an empty table with exactly five seats stood waiting. Even without a guide—or the presence of vegetarian food—it was more than obvious that this was the place reserved for the elves’ delegation.

The luxurious table set directly on the grass was an unusual choice for Lily, and unlike other events, the food had already been served in advance, meaning there would be no attendants. Although she would normally place Rose on her lap, since this was a formal event, Lily thought it more appropriate to follow proper etiquette.

Even so, once seated, Lily carefully selected a variety of breads to place on her plate, helping Rose choose her own as well.

“From the way they’re seated, with Ignis at the center, it’s already clear that she’ll be chosen as Fafnir’s successor, taking the title of leader of the Wing Clan.”

While using a napkin to wipe her daughter’s cheek, Lily turned her face toward Thelira, who spoke in a low tone as she used her cutlery to cut Cherry’s food.

“Tiamat mentioned that Fafnir had no descendants. Does the choice of leader usually follow bloodlines?” Lily asked.

“Not necessarily. As I explained before, dragons value strength above all else. The clan will never follow a weak leader, even if they share the same blood as the previous one. However, as long as their strength is at least notable and they have accomplishments to their name, it’s possible to earn enough respect to assume the position.”

After finishing cutting some vegetables and fruit, Thelira slid the plate toward Cherry, who cheerfully began eating, waiting for a chance to offer some to the silver-haired girl beside her.

Seeing her daughter smile, Thelira’s tense expression softened. She picked up her own plate before looking back at Lily.

“The Wing Clan is the political clan. It handles crimes and external agreements involving the dragons. As the one who serves as a judge, Ignis undoubtedly has the qualifications to take the post—along with, of course, the strength required for it.”

Even though it was clearly not even a fraction of the power she had felt earlier on the plains, Lily could still sense Ignis’s anger pressing directly against her back. In terms of mana alone, the indigo-haired woman possessed nearly the same amount of power as Fafnir, the dragon they had killed. In that sense, it was only logical that the other members of the clan would choose to follow her.

“So it seems she won’t be taking part in the banquet,” Lily murmured, her eyes cautiously scanning the surroundings in search of Bahamut.

Even though she was curious about how the dragon hero knew her wife—and even more so about how she possessed one of the volumes of the Book of Truth—there was nothing she could do about it during the banquet.

The crackling of firewood blended with soft music. In one corner, Lily could see several members of the Fang Clan holding instruments, the gentle rhythm they produced spreading throughout the area. Around them, many tables filled with other clan members were occupied by families chatting cheerfully. Between the tables, a few couples held a small egg close to them, positioned near the bonfires.

For a moment, the thought of questioning exactly how dragons laid their eggs crossed Lily’s mind, but she shook her head and decided it was better to remain blissfully ignorant about that.

Another thought soon followed.

“Don’t dragons form relationships between clans?” Lily asked, turning to Thelira.

Hearing the question, the elf paused to think for a moment, her emerald eyes narrowing slightly. “To my knowledge, due to their culture, it is forbidden for dragons of different clans to mate.”

“Wait, it’s forbidden?” Selene exclaimed with a startled grunt. “What kind of absurd rule is that?”

Just as the girls were about to continue the discussion, they were forced to stop as the ambient music slowly began to fade.

At that moment, everyone’s attention was drawn to the central bonfire. Wearing a long white mantle that reached the ground, a majestic woman with hair as pure as freshly fallen snow descended from the sky.

Two wings, like a pair of frozen auroras, gently beat as they lowered her body to the ground. Each white feather reflected the orange glow of the fire, while the golden helm that covered her eyes gleamed softly.

“Tonight, we gather once more to honor our traditions.”

Placing her hands over her full chest, Tiamat spoke in a gentle tone, yet her voice carried across the entire plain, as if the air itself bore her words.

“Even without the presence of all clans, this banquet, which brings our people together, seeks to celebrate the deeds of our founding dragon, who thousands of years ago gave rise to our lands.”

Walking slowly around the bonfire, the beautiful woman in ceremonial robes regarded each table in turn.

“As three parts of our founder, each clan must remain unique and coexist with the others. Individually, we are but roots of a single oak. When intertwined beneath the soil, we give strength to the great tree. Each clan, however, must preserve its distinct form above the ground, never forgetting that it is sustained by the same origin.”

Extending her hand toward the heavens, Tiamat spread her wings, her golden-scaled tail swaying in rhythm with her breathing.

“No part of our history must be lost, and nothing must be disrespected. For that reason, we gather to remember and to celebrate.”

Turning toward Thelira and Ipomoea, Tiamat raised her arms before her face and inclined her back slightly in a gesture of respect.

“To our guests, I wish you an excellent banquet. May the good fortune of the founding dragon reach each one of you.”

With her words finished, Tiamat withdrew from the center of the celebration. Built exclusively for her, a small elevated structure resembling a modest altar held a solitary table, where the dragon woman sat and began to observe the event.

Watching the dragon woman, who remained isolated from everyone else as she sipped her tea, Lily reflected on what she had just said.

A banquet was an event where everyone gathered to celebrate something. Whether it was someone’s return home or a victory, a celebration was meant to be something all those present could feel excited about. Yet, as she turned her gaze to the surroundings, Lily couldn’t say for sure whether this truly felt like a celebration.

Even with music and food, each group remained isolated, not interacting with one another. Like small islands separated by the sea, there was no sense of unity—something an event like this would normally have.

“Hm?”

Pulled from her thoughts, Lily let out a confused sound as she felt a small hand tug at her dress.

With a subdued expression, Rose looked up at her mother before stepping closer and speaking in a low voice.

“Mama Lily, can I go talk to her? Just for a moment?”

Hearing her daughter’s request, Lily followed the girl’s line of sight. Contrary to anything she had expected, those blue eyes were fixed on the dragon woman in ceremonial attire.

Rose wanted to go talk to Tiamat.

The unexpected request made Lily raise her eyebrows in surprise.

Turning to Thelira, who had overheard the conversation, Lily tilted her head slightly, silently asking what she should do.

“Well, since Tiamat specified that she wanted the entire delegation present, perhaps it would be best for them to introduce themselves… I suppose,” Thelira replied. Shifting her gaze to the small elf beside her, who had been discreetly holding onto her dress the entire time. Having heard the conversation, the little girl shook her head several times, clearly not wanting to go.

Although she wished Cherry would introduce herself as well, Thelira didn’t want to force her daughter into doing something she didn’t want to do.

“I want to go alone, if that’s okay.”

Speaking again—this time to both Thelira and her mother—Rose insisted, her tone determined despite her obvious nervousness.

“If it’s just to introduce yourself, I think that’s fine…” After a long moment of reflection, Lily spoke, noticing that Thelira had little choice but to agree as well. “I’ll be right here, so don’t worry, alright?”

Smiling as she placed a gentle kiss on her daughter’s forehead, Lily watched Rose return the smile before hopping down from her chair.

Walking carefully toward the slightly elevated gallery where Tiamat sat, Rose approached the dragon woman, observing her with visible unease.

“Well now, my little one… you’re traveling with the elven delegation, aren’t you?” Setting the teacup she had been drinking from onto the table, Tiamat turned toward the silver-haired girl, her wings—soft as feathers—gently swaying.

With her hands clasped behind her back, Rose timidly rubbed the tip of one foot against the ground, her sky-blue eyes fixed on the white-haired woman with anxious curiosity.

“Um, Miss… Lady Tiamat, don’t you want to go sit closer to the others?” Rose finally asked, stumbling slightly over how to address her at first.

Hearing the little girl’s question, the beautiful woman rested one hand against her cheek. Even though her eyes were hidden behind the golden mask, her lips curved into a smile.

“The role of the mistress of ceremonies is to remain attentive to the needs of all guests. Favoring any specific group would be disrespectful of me as the cultural leader of my people—”

“But you’re so sad.”

Cutting the woman off, Rose looked straight at the smiling face without a trace of hesitation or doubt in her voice.

The sudden statement made Tiamat freeze for a brief second.

“What are you talking about, my little one? I am happy. There’s no way I could be unhappy at such a monumental event.”

“You lied.”

The words—spoken so naturally and instantly—pierced the air like an arrow straight into her chest.

The little girl didn’t attack her with arguments.

She didn’t use statistics, rhetoric, or clever phrasing.

Just a single statement.

Simple. Pure.

And because of that, Tiamat couldn’t think of an answer.

Even though she was only speaking with a small child, the white-haired dragon woman needed a moment to steady herself and adjust her posture again.

“What?”

Even after controlling her breathing, that single, genuine question was all she could manage.

“From when you spoke to everyone earlier until now… your glow has been sad this whole time. Every time you lie, it gets dimmer and hurts more. It’s really sad…” Rose said, unable to hide her discomfort at the woman’s state. “Are you sure you don’t want to go talk to the others? The food is really good!”

Nodding eagerly and leaning forward, Rose spoke energetically in an attempt to cheer her up, her blue eyes shining with renewed life.

“My… glow?”

At Tiamat’s confused question, Rose suddenly froze. Turning her head toward the empty space beside her with an agitated, almost pleading look, she stared at nothing for a few seconds before looking back at the dragon woman.

“Your expression… or something like that?” What started as a statement turned into a question at the end, Rose waving her arms as she spoke. “Anyway, let’s eat! I know you’ll feel better! I’ll sit on Mama Lily’s lap, so you can take my seat and eat with us!”

A sincere and honest nature—one whose sense of morality defied every standard expected of a political representative.

Without backing down, the little girl continued insisting, her sky-clear eyes staring at Tiamat as if refusal wasn’t an answer she would accept.

“What is your name, my little one?” Tiamat finally managed to speak again, placing a hand over her chest as she whispered to the girl.

“Rose!” the silver-haired girl declared brightly.

“Rose…” Tiamat repeated.

It wasn’t a political ploy.

Nor was it an attempt to favor any delegation.

It was a pure, genuine request from a child.

Without realizing it, the rigid lips slowly curved upward. A faint blush formed on the woman’s cheeks.

Tiamat wondered how she should respond. This strange, small girl had simply come to her and invited her to eat—without any ulterior motive. She couldn’t simply ignore her.

Having made her decision, she finally opened her mouth, about to answer Rose, when a visible tremor ran across the bridge of her nose.

“This…?” Tiamat rose as if in a trance, her jaw falling open as she stared at the little girl. A visible tremor ran through her entire body until, at last, she dropped to her knees in front of her to meet her gaze. “How do you have this?”

“This what?” Tilting her head in confusion, Rose wondered what Tiamat meant as the tall dragon woman grabbed her shoulders.

“How do you have that fan— Blargh!”

The woman never finished her sentence.

Collapsing onto the grassy ground, Tiamat went completely limp. From her already pale mouth, a horrifying amount of blood poured out. Wings, tail—her entire body convulsed violently in spasms.

“M-Miss?” Panicking, Rose crouched down, trying to hold the woman as she seized.

“Get away from her!”

Suddenly, a powerful shout tore through the air.

Moving quickly toward her sister, Cicuta caught Tiamat in her arms.

The sudden shift in the situation made Rose stumble backward, but before she could fall, the little girl was caught and held tightly. Turning her eyes, Rose saw her mother swiftly pulling away from the crowd of Fang Clan members who had begun to surround the unconscious Tiamat.

“There are no wounds on our leader’s body—what’s happening?”

“What’s going on? Why isn’t she regenerating?”

“There’s no doubt about it! She’s been poisoned!”

Shouts upon shouts spread across the plains. The music had been cut short, and everyone’s attention was now fixed on Tiamat.

“Elder Sister! Elder Sister!”

Still calling out to the unconscious woman with desperate cries, Cicuta tried to draw any reaction from her sister.

However, no matter how much strength or determination she poured into her voice, Tiamat showed no response, continuing to vomit blood.

“She collapsed after getting close to that girl!” Ignis stepped forward, fury lacing her voice as she pointed toward the elven delegation—or more precisely, toward Rose. “It must have been her who poisoned Tiamat!”

Followed by the members of the Wing Clan, Ignis shouted in rage, each one echoing her hostility.

“Mama Lily, I didn’t do it!”

Calling desperately for her mother, Rose cried out, visibly shaken.

“I know, my love.”

Holding her daughter with one arm, Lily placed her other hand on the hilt of her sword, stepping forward to shield her from the others. At her side, Selene drew a brush of stardust from her dress, taking a defensive stance.

“I understand everything now—they must have used the children to make Lord Fafnir lower his guard and poison him! There’s no way our Lord could have been defeated in a direct confrontation!” Ignis snorted, baring her fangs as the mana around her body surged.

“Are you implying that we’re responsible for this? You have no proof whatsoever!” Certain that Cherry stood behind her, Thelira shouted back at the indigo-haired woman.

“Proof? Are you serious? Or are you trying to tell me this was all a coincidence?” Lifting her chin, Ignis glared at Thelira with fury. “But fine—if that’s how you want it, hand the girl over and we’ll conduct a proper trial. I’m sure she’ll confess her crimes after a little interrogation!”

Drawing her sword, Lily wrapped her entire body in mana, grinding her teeth. Not even she could remain calm after hearing those words. Lily would never hand her daughter over to those people, no matter what happened.

“That’s enough!”

Before either side could take another step, a furious shout rose above all others.

Cradling Tiamat in her arms, Cicuta yelled at the Fang Clan members surrounding her, her hands stained with her sister’s blood.

“The safety of Elder Sister comes first! Move!”

Watching the Fang Clan withdraw, Ignis narrowed her eyes before finally letting the mana around her body subside.

“Tsk.”

Clicking her tongue, the indigo-haired dragon woman prepared to leave. Yet as she walked away, she cast one last glance at the elven delegation, a wide, fang-filled smile spreading across her face.

The banquet was over…

But a far greater problem had just begun.