The Melkevi family encountered something peculiar.
Generally, a normal hatchling dragon can start speaking two months after being born.
As for Noa, the so-called "Involuted King" who began her competitive streak while still in the womb, she was able to engage in simple language exchanges with those around her less than twenty days after birth.
However, oddly enough, Aurora, now almost three months old, showed no signs of beginning to speak.
No matter how Leon and Roswitha prompted her, Aurora's only response was always:
"Ah-wah ah-wah~"
The little dragon girl’s pink pupils conveyed no curiosity about the world, much less any desire to learn language.
Compared to her competitive eldest sister, the Involuted King, and her mascot-like second sister, this youngest daughter seemed somewhat... slacking off.
One evening, the couple lay side by side in bed, with Aurora nestled between them.
Over the past three months, Aurora had grown considerably. Though she still couldn't talk, she had learned to interact with her parents using her tiny tail.
The level of activity of a hatchling dragon’s tail is one of the standards used to assess their health.
Judging by Aurora's tail, her physical health seemed perfectly fine.
Yet she still couldn’t speak a single word—unless "ah-wah ah-wah" counted.
Roswitha lay on her side, propping up her cheek with one hand, teasing Aurora's tiny tail with her finger.
Just like a kitten chasing a teaser wand, the little daughter kept lunging for her mother’s finger with all her might, always coming tantalizingly close but never quite catching it.
Over and over, her failure to succeed didn’t dampen her spirits; instead, she played with gusto.
The queen, however, bore an expression wore a hint of concern. "It just doesn’t make sense. Muen started talking around two months old, but Aurora is already three months old and hasn’t said a single word..."
Leon felt at a loss as well.
Dragon hatchlings weren’t human infants; they could not be analyzed through human developmental knowledge.
Roswitha had noted before that normal baby dragons should be able to talk by around two months.
If Aurora's delayed development was due to her being half-dragon and half-human, one might expect slower milestones compared to other hatchlings. Yet Noa and Muen were also mixed-bloods—Noa had could practically fight right out of the womb, and Muen at the average pace.
Leon furrowed his brows, muttering, “What could be the reason...?”
Roswitha’s thoughts clicked into place as she suggested, “It must be because you've been trying to get Aurora to say ‘Daddy’ these past three months—it probably scared her, and that’s why she won’t talk yet.”
Leon spread his hands in defense, “You’ve been prompting her to say ‘Mommy’ just as much as I’ve been pushing for ‘Daddy,’ haven’t you? If that’s the reason, the blame here is split fifty-fifty between the two of us.”
The couple had indeed been vying for the pivotal parental acknowledgement. Each wanted “Aurora’s first word” to be directed at them.
For the past three months, they’d both been creatively attempting to “brainwash” their daughter.
Even Muen occasionally joined the fray.
Although their second daughter wasn’t particularly fixated on whom Aurora would call first, it was an opportunity to join in and have some fun.
However, as her parents and sister eagerly anticipated Aurora's choice, the baby had selected an unforeseen path:
She remained indifferent.
Little Aurora, still so young yet already a master of one phrase—her triumphant 'Ah-Wah' conquers all occasions.
Exhausted from play, Aurora tucked away her tail and fell sound asleep under her parents’ tender care.
Leon tucked in her blanket to make sure she wouldn’t catch a chill. Then, looking up at his wife across the bed, he asked, “Didn’t we take Aurora for a check-up last week?”
“Mm-hmm, the clan’s physicians said Aurora is absolutely healthy top to bottom, but they couldn’t explain why she hasn’t spoken yet,” Roswitha replied after recalling.
She added, “Tomorrow, let’s take Aurora to Sky City for a thorough examination. The physicians there have a broader range of expertise.”
“Tomorrow, huh…”
Leon grimaced briefly, then shook his head. “Tomorrow won’t work—how about in a few days?”
Roswitha tilted her head, puzzled. “Why? What’s happening tomorrow?”
“When I left the Empire, I made a promise to my mentor to meet every three months at the mountain stream cavern. Tomorrow is the appointed time,” Leon explained.
Roswitha nodded in understanding. “Ah, I see—sounds good then. But…”
The queen grinned mischievously and asked, feigning ignorance, “Do you need me to escort you there?”
“… No need, Your Majesty. I can manage that on my own. By the time I return—roughly six months from now—Aurora should already be talking, I bet.” Leon teased lightly.
Roswitha giggled and playfully tapped his shoulder, “Escort you, my foot. Sleep now, sleep!”
With that, Roswitha turned away and switched off the bedside lamp. Silence enveloped the room as moonlight streamed in.
Leon lay flat with his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling as Aurora and Roswitha’s steady breathing filled his ears.
He mentally prepared the intel he’d be sharing with his mentor the next day:
The Dragon King collaborating with the Empire might not be limited to Constantine. Moreover, someone close to Constantine—perhaps a trusted confidant—might know the identities of other Dragon Kings.
Once Leon resolved the internal turmoil within the Red Flame Dragon Clan, his next step would be investigating this confidant.
For now, the information he had was limited, shackled by complex political dynamics and uncertainties.
Once the upheavals settled, Leon knew he’d need to speed up his investigations.
As he thought through these matters, a wave of drowsiness overtook him. Soon after, Leon slipped into slumber.
Night quietly gave way to dawn.
The following day, after instructing the maids to carefully look after Muen and Aurora, the couple set off for the border between Dragon Clan territories and human lands.
During the journey, Roswitha suddenly asked, “Are you nervous?”
The wind roared past them, disrupting Leon’s hair as he gazed down at the silver dragon beneath him. “Nervous? About what?” he queried.
Roswitha pondered briefly before continuing, “Three months seem like quite a stretch of time for you humans—plenty could happen. If your mentor doesn’t show up as agreed...”
Leon paused, scratching his temple.
He didn’t take Roswitha’s remark as jinx; it was merely practical consideration of a less-than-ideal scenario.
After mulling it over briefly, Leon replied, “I trust my mentor and Rebecca—they’ll stick to the plan and show up.”
“Good to hear,” Roswitha murmured distractedly. Her tone hinted at preoccupation.
Leon caught on immediately, sensing her sudden shift might hint at deeper emotions. Pondering Roswitha’s line about “three months and not showing up,” he connected it to something personal.
Blinking in realization, the dragon hunter finally understood.
He chuckled while patting her back affectionately. “Hey, my lady dragon… Back when we were apart, we had our own agreement to meet every three months, right? You must have worried about this exact scenario back then.”
Roswitha’s flying rhythm hit a sudden stumble, nearly causing Leon to lose his seat.
Beneath him, the silver queen remained silent, focusing entirely on their journey.
Leon smirked inwardly, confirming that his hunch was correct.
He pressed further, “If, after I’ve rooted out the traitor in the Empire, I don’t leave and you visit the cavern per our agreement only to find me absent, what would you do?” Leon asked playfully.
“I—what? What do you mean, ‘do’? If you go, we’ll chat about life and the kids. If you don’t, then I’ll just, uh… I’ll just…”
“You’ll just?”
“I’ll just head home and bring Noa and Muen along to set up your memorial service.”
“I don’t believe it—that’s just you being cheeky.”
“Cut the nonsense—that’s the truth.”
“Oh please, Mother Dragon, you absolutely—Wait—slow down!”
Roswitha punctuated her retort with a supersonic acceleration, forcing her cheeky husband to swallow his unfinished sentence.
