Page 68 of The Last Dragon
By the time I reach the quarters, several lieutenants are already filing out. One of them is Lieutenant Rylan. A few tankards sit abandoned on the coffee table in the corner. I count three, though only two lieutenants have left.
I stand firmly by the general’s desk as he instructs Lieutenant Wain to leave us. He squints, as if trying to ease the sting in his eyes—an irritation that’s hard to miss. What could this be about? Does he know about the Redsnout?
He slides a small patch toward the edge of the table, opening his palm to draw my attention to it. “Do you know what this is?” he asks.
I study the patch for a moment. My eyes stray on the three bolts lying on his desk—not far from the empty ink vials. I straighten up and look at the patch again.
“It’s an expedition Commander’s emblem, sir,” I say.
“Do you know which commander?” he asks, leaning against his leathery chair. But before I can respond, he says with a huff, “Jarris Hayrim. It was retrieved this morning by a Scout from the Eastern Front.”
My stomach drops.Eastern Front. That’s where my home is. Or used to be, before the dragon torched nearly everything, including my house. “It’s now confirmed that he succumbed during the expedition a few months ago.”
I remain silent. Waiting, fearing what this means—the reason he called me here.
“The problem, Commander Aaran, is that no other commanders are willing to lead an expedition after what happened during the previous one.”
I feel the blood slowly leave my face.
“I want you to lead the next expedition to the Western Front that will take placetwo weeks from now.”
I gulp.What? I look him straight in the eye, letting my stance slightly falter as I become more human, but try to keep myself together. “Sir,” I say firmly. “I have no experience in leading an expeditionthissize,” I state the facts. He can’t be seriously thinking I would be fit to lead an expedition. Not with my condition, and definitely not when I know that Nida willhaveto go with me. My entireunitwill have to. The expedition I led by the Gates wasn’t an expedition at all. It was adefense. Hundreds of rookies died under my watch. All I did was shout a few words of encouragement and tell them where to go, what to do.I’m not ready for this.I need more time.
“Unfortunately, this isn’t a request. You will be in good hands with Lieutenant Wain, who will be joining you as a Field Officer to help carry out your orders, as well as several sixth years.”
My eyes wander, my emotions slowly leaking through my body, making my hands twitch. No. I can’t let this happen now. Even with skilled and experienced units, this expedition could be deadly for all of us.
“What made you choose me for this expedition?” I ask.
“A little bird told me about your skills in the previous encounter with the dragon,” he says, sounding surprisingly satisfied. “It’s interesting how nobody else noticed that the dragon was going to ignite, but you showed good observation skills and, with that, good decision skills. You’ll be more useful out there, seeking out the dragon, instead of sitting here idle and waiting for a report.”
I sigh, words failing me. The general rises from his chair and moves toward the left side of the room, where a map of the world lies spread out on a table. I follow silently as he begins recounting the events of the previous expedition.
“The recent report of a dragon sighting came from the Western Front. It seems the beast has migrated.” He presses a stained finger lightly on the map, careful not to smudge the ink—though it’s already a few days old. “This is where you’ll be going.”
I study the map. Next to it lies a smaller one, marked with intricate lines crisscrossing diagonally and horizontally, forming a V-shape that fans out into small squares. Numbers dot each square where the lines intersect. The grid stretches from Karalia, past the Third, and into the Unknown beyond.
The Scouts’ map.
I focus on square thirty—where the Third sits—and the one after that—square thirty-one—the Front. That’s where the village of Garta lies. A small black cross marks it, signaling the area is clear. But the square next to it, thirty-three, bears a red dot—a sign that a dragon was spotted nearby.
I’ve only seen the Scouts’ map a few times, and its complexity isn’t easy to grasp. Still, it’s our best way to communicate between Scouts and the Corps in case of dragon sightings or other unusual discoveries. All they need to do is write the number of the square and a letter ‘D’ if a dragon has been sighted. After that, an expedition is formed and soldiers march to the area where it’s been spotted. Sometimes, the General sends out hawks to Scouts for confirmation—or to check if the Scouts are alive if we haven’t had a report in a long time. If there is no response, new Scouts are sent out, oftentimes to look for a body. But those are rare occasions. It’s the general who regulates the Scouts. He’s the one responsible for sending them out, taking in their information, and planning expeditions and their routes.
His hand traces slowly across the map, moving toward the unfinished section—the Unknown. Scouts are responsible for mapping the world for us, too, and the Unknown is a place no man has ever been before—a place we are trying to learn more about so that we can continue to expand.
“The last expedition, unfortunately, resulted in the loss of many Scouts who were patrolling and mapping the outskirts,” the general says, his voice tinged with bitterness. “However, a small portion of the new map was retrieved from one of the Scouts now operating in the western part of the forest.” He brushes his finger across the map, tracing from the Third through five adjacent squares. “The sighting occurred last night at exactly three thirty-seven past midnight, right at the border between the second and third squares of the forest.”
I glance at the mechanical clock ticking above us.
“Why would the dragon migrate?” I ask. A dragon traveling all the way from the eastern to the western edge of the Front is unusual—especially for a Redsnout. They’re extremely territorial.
“Our theory is that the Redsnout is expanding its territory. With no remaining threats to challenge it, the beast has adapted to its surroundings and begun exploring nearby regions. We’re still uncertain about its exact location—it may be somewhere beyond the mapped areas. However, we believe that our continued efforts to explore the outskirts have drawn its attention. It may be stalking us.”
“Stalking us?” I say, surprised. “You mean—like prey?”
He slowly nods, releasing a grunt indicating slight worry.
Shit.
