One Hundred
After saying all that, Tara fell quiet. The Big Flower watched them like a still pond, then flicked its vines like green ribbons and shooed the Little White Dragon’s group out.
Before they left, it kept the tiny potted bloom Lilith had been clutching. The little blue flower, happy in her arms, leapt into the Big Flower’s embrace at Tara’s call, like a sparrow finding its branch. The Little White Dragon fumed, muttering “ungrateful brat” under her breath like wind hissing through reeds.
“This flower was clearly something we bought. Why won’t they let us take it?” the Little White Dragon shouted, her voice sharp as a pebble striking water.
“It wasn’t you who paid. Don’t talk nonsense.” Before Tara could speak, Nidhogg moved. The Black Dragon covered her mouth, then dragged Lilith out of the workshop as she squirmed like a caught kitten.
“Mmm! Mmm-mmm! Mmm-mm-mm! (No! I want to take it! It’s so cute!)” Lilith’s muffled protest fluttered like a trapped bird.
Nidhogg sighed, a long breath like mist on a cold morning. Just now she hid behind him like a timid fawn. For one little flower, she turned rowdy—that was so Lilith.
With Nidhogg hauling Lilith along, they finally left the factory. At the door, the Little White Dragon ran into the guard who’d let them in. Sticking to the full performance, Lilith spun a gleaming string of “magical principles” even she barely believed, words bubbling like soap in sunlight. She sought out the poor patrolling worker, straight-faced like a real researcher, and reported all her “findings” with solemn gravity.
The patrolman sent them off smiling, his cheer bright as morning. Lilith waved goodbye, her hand fluttering like a white moth. They hadn’t even exchanged names, yet Nidhogg tasted in the air that tender sweetness of kindred spirits parting, a late-autumn note of reluctance.
Maybe Lilith was thrilled to finally fool someone even a clumsy Little White Dragon could fool. Nidhogg thought that, the idea drifting like willow fluff.
“Then I’ll take my leave here.” The Archbishop halted as they reached the city center, his robe a dark wave in the street’s tide. He turned and said, “I’ll return to the Holy Mountain and meet the other elders of the Majestic Court. We’ll discuss what comes next, and I’ll bring you the answer.”
“Alright, please go ahead.” Lilith nodded, her eyes clouded like a sky before rain. She knew the Archbishop would be busy—a mountain of persuasion to make that sea of bishops accept the God of Mountains’ passing. There’d be a funeral to shape, somber as cypress. Afterward, the Majestic Court would have to settle the lives of its people. The old ones would manage, living on subsidies Aila approved, like coals kept warm in the hearth. But the nuns working inside the Majestic Court weren’t so lucky; their resettlement would need careful hands.
“Mm.” The Archbishop tipped his head, then turned. His silhouette thinned into the crowd, like ink fading into water.
“Ah, this matter’s finally wrapped,” the Little White Dragon said, watching him dwindle into a speck, then stretch like a cat and let out a long breath of steam.
“Tired?” Nidhogg caught the weariness in her tone, a low note like dusk.
“A little. We ran everywhere and did a lot.” Lilith yawned, mouth a pale shell opening. “I’m wiped. I want to go sleep.”
“Works for me.” Mio, the elf trailing the two dragons, stepped up, her smile wan as moonlight. She led them toward the inn. “I’m drained too. I need a five-day sleep to flush out the fatigue stuck in my bones.”
“Sleep five days and you’ll turn into a pig,” Nidhogg snapped, the retort popping like a seed. She turned to Lilith, voice steady as a hand on a shoulder. “Don’t copy her. Keep moving. Don’t stay in bed too long, or your body will sulk.”
“No worries. You’re a bully who’ll force me to do exercises I hate.” Lilith shrugged, a leaf shaking off dew. “I won’t lack training this time.”
“Now you don’t feel shy?” Nidhogg’s complaint drifted like smoke.
“I never feel shy.” The Little White Dragon tossed her chin, pretending not to remember cheeks flushed and tongue tied, memories like cherries hidden in snow.
“I hope you say that once you’re in bed too,” Nidhogg said, not pressing, his words smooth as dark silk.
“Hmph!” Lilith huffed, her breath a tiny gust that didn’t move a blade of grass.
“Speaking of which, how do you take Tara’s last words, Miss Savior of Lamter?” Lilith slid the quarrel aside like a door screen, wary of pushing the Black Dragon into using hands instead of words.
“No big take. It spoke well.” Nidhogg’s gaze wandered like a migratory bird. “Lamter’s changed a lot lately. I was gone only a few decades, and besides a few old friends, nothing felt familiar.”
Decades are long to humans, years like stones laid one by one. To elves and dragons with long lives, they’re spring rain—there and gone.
Their long span gifts them more horizons to see, more winters and summers to taste.
“Alright.” Lilith nodded, thoughts knotting like ivy. Tara’s words held riddles she couldn’t untangle now. She knew they mattered, but answers wouldn’t come. She tucked the question away, a seed in dark soil, to sprout later.
“At this point, sleep first,” Lilith decided, her will quiet as night closing over lamps.
