At last, Eliza dug up a few barely edible rations from the state granary—mystery-preserved, like frost sealed under stone. For Lilith, starved for ages, it was a brief feast.

“Ah, bliss. This must be heaven.” Lilith stroked her little belly like a warm loaf, then let out a contented burp. “Feels like a whole year since I tasted meat.”

“Are dragonfolk really living that hard?” Eliza’s curious gaze slid to the Little White Dragon, light catching like water on jade. “You’re the Dragon God’s daughter. Don’t tell me you can’t get meat. Dragons are carnivores, right?”

“It’s sweet as honey back on my territory.” Lilith sighed, shoulders rising and falling like gentle waves. “But I’m wandering alone. Not every corner of the continent serves delights. Since entering Spuiset months ago, it’s been nothing but hardtack.”

“Aren’t you a dragon? Why not just fly instead of trudging like humans?” Eliza pointed at the bat-like little wings tucked behind her. The Little White Dragon only popped them out from instinct after eating.

“Big target, big trouble.” Lilith fluttered those small wings, then spread her arms to trace a huge circle in the air. “Imagine a whole dragon sweeping the sky—how wouldn’t the folks below panic? I get this big when I turn into a dragon. Nations would quake. How would I savor local customs then?”

“Hard to say. Not talking about other dragons, but after seeing you, most people wouldn’t feel fear.” Eliza watched the tiny dragon’s earnest gestures, then thought, a bit rude, It takes a very small heart to get spooked by this silly dragon.

“Don’t shade me.” Lilith puffed her cheeks like storm clouds gathering. “In dragon form I’m terrifying. If you saw it, you’d be running scared, pants practically wet. I’m a very mighty dragon—don’t underestimate me.”

“Alright, alright.” Eliza’s smile softened like spring thaw across ice.

“Hey!” Feeling slighted, Lilith glared, temper sparking like a brazier. She wasn’t lying. When she becomes a dragon, the Taint spills out unchecked, like smoke from a cracked kiln. That’s why she avoids fighting in dragon form—better not turn into a moving pollution source.

“I understand.” Eliza pitched her voice into mock reverence, solemn as a court scribe reading decrees. “The esteemed Lady Lilith is a dreadful war-dragon, one misstep and Spuiset falls into ruin.”

Lilith’s teeth ached with fury; she almost lunged to bite her. Who’d expect the iceberg-faced princess to hide such a sly, ink-dark streak?

Very angry, she readied her killing glare. Her eyes went wide—two round O’s of outrage.

“Alright, let’s get to business.” Eliza clapped, like dusting away stray thoughts. “I’ll take you to the Royal Library. After that I have state affairs to handle, so I can’t accompany you.”

“No problem. I’m not some exalted guest.” Lilith nodded, voice steadied like a calm lake. “You should prioritize governance. Morris depends on you.” She followed Eliza to the library gates, then they parted with a light wave.

“Okay, it’s on me from here.” Lilith planted her feet and gave herself a pep talk, spirit rising like a banner in wind. Chin high, chest out, she marched into the library.

“Welcome, esteemed guest. How may I assist?” The sudden voice cracked like a bell. Lilith shot up like a cat that spots a cucumber, tail whipping on reflex. The bronze automaton took the blow, went click-clack, then straightened with a creak. “Oh my. Esteemed guest, you are rather rough.”

“S-sorry! I didn’t mean it.” Lilith curled into a small coil, words tumbling like pebbles. “I didn’t see you. I got startled and lashed out. I’m really, really sorry.”

“Please don’t worry, esteemed guest. How may I assist?” Magnanimous, the automaton forgave the reflex strike, then returned to duty like a clock resetting to noon.

“Uh, I need information on the Legendary Sword. If possible, also on the Grim Reaper, ‘Nameless One,’ their blade, and the war against the other three gods.”

“Understood.” The automaton nodded. Its chest opened with a hiss, and an old typewriter popped out like a relic surfacing from silt. Fingers tapped, clack-clack like rain on tiles. “Querying: Legendary Sword, Deathly blade, and the War at the Summit. Progress: 20%, 50%, 60%. Index error. Re-indexing. 60%. Querying. 100%. Retrieval complete. Locations: B Sector, Column 26, Shelf 40; R Sector, Row 99, Slot 301; C Sector, Row 2, Slot 7. Shall I fetch them?”

“Please fetch them.” Lilith eyed the stacks—dense as bamboo, maze-like as alleyways after rain. A top-tier direction disaster, she gets lost even with a guide. Better to let the automaton handle it.

“Very well. Please wait in the reading area.” The automaton folded the typewriter back into its chest, planted its palms on the desk, and levered itself free with a pop. From below, it rolled out a wheeled base, mounted its half-body, then trundled forward, gears humming and latches clicking, leading Lilith toward the reading zone.

“Wow.” Lilith’s eyes shone like tiny stars. She picked the softest-looking chair and plopped down, cloud-sink and all.

“Please wait. I’ll retrieve the books now. It won’t take long.” The automaton dipped a polite bow and vanished into the labyrinth of shelves.

Lilith sat slack in the plush chair, mind drifting like mist over water. Right now, she wanted a cup of black tea.