Chapter 8
After two days, then three, of unbroken flight, Ando began to feel it—a clear shift in the world around them.
The wind softened. The air grew warmer.
The conifer forests that had once blanketed the mountains thinned, then fell away entirely. In their place spread unfamiliar greenery—lush, vibrant, alive with color. Bright flowers bloomed everywhere, more vivid than anything he had ever seen.
On the fourth day, the land below opened into a sight unlike any Ando had known.
The earth stretched out, vast and level, with hardly a rise to break it.
He had never left Imresia, where mountains dominated nearly all the land. Even the widest pasture he had seen now felt small by comparison.
That such a place could exist at all—so open, so boundless—left him in awe.
That day, they crossed into the lands of Tatsuno and took lodging in a small settlement.
Those who came out to greet them were all Dracoserpens.
Every one of them bore scales across their bodies, horns rising from their brows, tails swaying behind them. Men and women alike stood taller than Ando—and not a single one wore clothing.
“Yuki, welcome back! How was the human kingdom?”
“Small. Kind of cute,” she said lightly. “Their decorations and clothes were incredibly detailed—like little works of art. But wow, it was cold.”
As their easy exchange carried on, Ando glanced around.
The houses, the well—structurally, they weren’t so different from what he knew in Imresia.
But the scale was.
Everything built for the Dracoserpens was vast. The designs were simple, even austere—but easily three times the size of anything in a human settlement.
Back in Imresia, Ando had been among the tallest, often knocking his head against beams and low ceilings.
Here, he felt like a child.
“…Huh? Who’s this little guy?”
He had heard that the entire population of Tatsuno numbered only around a thousand. Most knew one another by face, even by name—who lived where, who belonged to which settlement. An unfamiliar presence would never go unnoticed.
“Surprised?” Yuki said with a grin. “This boy is a demi-Dracotyrannus. Born to a human mother. He was serving as a soldier in Imresia, so I went ahead and recruited him.”
Her offhand remark was enough to leave the group reeling.
The Dracoserpens of the settlement exchanged startled looks, then turned to Kiba and the others.
Kiba only gave a small shrug, as if to say, You know how she is.
Seeing that, they went along with it—whether they liked it or not.
“Welcome to Tatsuno. We’re glad to have a new member of the family.”
The female Dracoserpens stepped closer and crouched to his level, her smile warm and easy—softening in a way that felt almost doting, like she was greeting a child. She spoke gently, as if there were no question he belonged here already.
“This is the Hokurin—north region. I’m Hasu, the head of the settlement. Stay as long as you like—and if Yuki wears you out, you’re always welcome at my place.”
“Hey, I don’t run anyone around like that!” Yuki shot back immediately.
“Oh, you absolutely do. Have a little self-awareness—those poor boys,” Hasu teased.
Their banter flowed easily, drawing soft laughter from those around them.
Even here, no one treated Yuki—the Empress of Dracoserpens—with any particular formality.
Ando hesitated, unsure how to respond, but no one paid his uncertainty any mind.
Perhaps, here, this was simply normal.
The Dracoserpens of Hokurin Village set aside a wooden house for Yuki and her party.
Their guide was Hasu—the one who had first greeted them.
Just inside the entrance was a packed-earth entryway, with the living space raised a step beyond it. Several small tubs of steaming water had been set out in front.
“In Tatsuno,” Yuki said, dropping onto the step and slipping her feet into one of the tubs, “we always clean our feet before going inside. No dirt in the house. And shoes off.”
Her feet caught Ando’s eye.
They were like a bird of prey’s—three forward toes, each tipped with a sharp, hooked claw. The joints were prominent, built for a crushing grip. Once caught, nothing would slip free. He couldn’t help but remember the pressure of her hand on his shoulder the other day, and a faint shiver ran through him.
Tien, Azu, Wani, Kiba—the others all had the same kind of feet.
Ando hesitated, then slowly unlaced his boots and pulled them off.
His own feet were nothing like theirs.
Five toes. Blunt nails. A proper heel. Made for standing, not grasping. Narrower, drawn in, almost cramped.
Years in stiff boots had left their mark. His toes bent inward, the arch tight and strained. Set beside the others’, they looked… small. Fragile.
He lowered them into the water. Warmth spread through them, slow and deep.
Yuki stared. Then Tien and Azu leaned in.
“…Doesn’t that hurt?” Tien asked.
Azu grimaced. “You’ve had them like that this whole time? That’s messed up.”
Ando instinctively drew his feet back a little, hiding them beneath the water.
“…It’s nothing,” he said, eyes lowered.
“Really?” Yuki pressed. “It doesn’t hurt?”
He hesitated. Just for a beat. Under her gaze, he looked away.
“…I’m used to it.”
He had been enduring it for years. It was simply how things were. The pain had long since faded into something he no longer noticed.
Kiba stepped forward and knelt beside him.
“May I?”
Ando hesitated—then nodded.
Kiba’s fingers brushed lightly over the top of his foot. The slightest pressure, just enough to flex the arch—
Pain shot through him.
He didn’t cry out, but his breath caught.
Azu winced. “Yeah… figured.”
Tien frowned. Wani said nothing, watching quietly.
Kiba withdrew his hand and looked at Ando.
“We’ll reach the capital tomorrow. Master Ko can take a look.”
A faint smile touched his lips.
“No need to rush.”
After wiping his feet, Ando stepped up from the stone entry and realized the house ran much deeper than it looked.
Inside, the floors were covered with tightly woven mats made from dried plant fibers—soft but supportive, with a slight give underfoot. The dracoserpens’ claws settled into them naturally. When Ando stepped on them barefoot, they felt surprisingly comfortable.
A straight corridor led inward, one side open to a garden, supported by slender posts. Light and breeze flowed freely through the space.
There were no heavy walls—rooms were divided by sliding paper panels instead.
It was nothing like Imresia’s stone keeps, built to shut out cold and danger. Here, the boundary between inside and out felt blurred, the space open and alive.
At the back, a wide hall opened up, with thick pillars and high beams overhead. The same woven mats covered the floor, softening every step.
Along one side, a raised alcove held a simple display of flowers and a hanging scroll.
Yuki and the others stepped into the main room, dropped their things—and without hesitation, shed their clothes.
Ando wasn’t sure where to look. Kiba noticed and offered a calm explanation.
“We don’t have much of a habit of wearing clothes—aside from cloaks in the cold. There’s no need for you to follow suit. Do as you’re comfortable.”
He added that fabric tended to catch on their protruding scales, sometimes even tearing them loose. That explained a great deal—Ando’s own uniform had always worn out quickly, and he’d often been scolded for it.
What he wore now had been altered for him—simple garments Yuki and the others had brought for themselves, adjusted to fit his frame. There was a part of him that didn’t want to take them off, wrapped as they were in their kindness. But the hesitation—embarrassment, really—was still there.
Even so, he made up his mind.
He had always hated the thought of his scales being seen. But here, everyone bore them. To his own surprise, he found himself accepting it—walking unclothed among them without much resistance.
“Um… if you don’t mind—could I take a look at your tail?”
Yuki’s tone was unusually careful, as if still bothered by having been called something inappropriate earlier. After seeing his feet, her curiosity had clearly gotten the better of her.
By now, Ando understood there was no hidden meaning in the question. After a brief pause, he nodded and turned his back to them.
Yuki’s expression tightened at the sight.
The remains of his tail had been crudely severed, roughly stitched closed.
“That’s awful… Maybe it’ll grow back after his Dormancy?”
“Full Dracotyrannus grow wings as they mature,” Kiba said thoughtfully. “If we’re fortunate, regeneration may be possible. But he’s a demi-Dracotyrannus… there’s much we don’t know.”
“In any case, we should return to the capital as soon as we can and have Master Ko examine him,” Tien added. “He needs proper nourishment—and we’ll have to decide what comes next.”
That last part caught Ando’s attention. What comes next? he almost asked—
But before he could, someone from the village arrived to announce that dinner was ready, and the moment slipped away.
The communal hall at the heart of the settlement was larger than Ando had expected—wider even than the great cathedral at Imresnople.
The floor was covered wall to wall in soft, woven mats, and round cushions lay scattered across the space. All throughout the hall, the Dracoserpens had gathered in small circles, each group seated around a pot set into the floor.
The sight was wholly unfamiliar to him.
In Imresia, a meal was something prepared out of sight and brought forth complete. Here, each circle tended its own pot—adding vegetables, meat, and whatever else they pleased. Open hearths had been cut directly into the floor, and from them burned a blue flame unlike any he had seen. It gave off no smoke. There was no wood—no fuel at all.
Yet the iron pots simmered steadily, steam rising in soft, fragrant curls.
Within the clear broth drifted root vegetables, leafy greens, mushrooms, beans, and cuts of meat. The scent of herbs rose gently, warm and savory, teasing the senses and stirring his appetite.
More of the settlement’s folk began to arrive, one after another, tails swaying lazily behind them as they slipped into the hall and joined the circles.
“A Demi-Dracotyrannus, huh?”
“Well, this is a nice surprise.”
“How amazing, we didn’t expect this!”
Voices came at him from all sides.
Each time, Ando straightened at once and answered with unwavering formality.
“I am called Andri—Ando, if it please you. It is an honor to make your acquaintance.”
He answered each greeting in turn, earnest to a fault—while the food was already being served around him.
“…Alright, that’s enough, everyone. Let the boy eat.”
Kiba stepped in at last, a low chuckle in his voice.
“Save the introductions for later—you’ve got to be starving.”
From beside him, Wani reached out and gave Ando’s arm a light tug, guiding him down to sit at his side. He filled a bowl from the pot and pressed it gently into Ando’s hands.
“If there’s anything you can’t eat, just leave it.”
“Your kindness does me great honor. I shall partake without reserve—there may be little left.”
The ingredients themselves were familiar—much the same as those he had known in Imresia. But at the first taste, he realized the difference at once.
The flavors were gentle, almost understated. It was the broth that carried the taste—subtle, lingering, and soothing. Warm, clean, and gently layered, it seemed to settle into him with ease, as though he could go on eating forever.
Not far off, in another circle, Yuki sat with a cup in hand. Azu and Tien were laughing; Kiba just shrugged, half put-upon, half amused; Wani grinned as the noise swelled around them. By the time the meal wound down, the hall was alive with laughter, the air thick with steam.
“Alright—bath time.”
After dinner, they were led around the back of the communal hall to the bathhouse.
A broad furnace burned there, fed by that same blue flame. It heated a vast iron kettle until the water inside rolled and steamed. The fire came from Springfire—a gas drawn up from beneath the earth and set alight.
Ando stopped in his tracks.
“…All this… without firewood?”
“Hokurin’s full of Springfire,” said Yuki, an easy laugh in her voice. “We pipe it straight into our kitchens. Heating water’s no trouble at all.”
She added that every home could have its own bath if they wanted—but it was more enjoyable this way. So they’d built a shared bathhouse by the communal hall and left it open for anyone, any time.
Even before they reached it, Ando felt it—the soft drift of warmth in the air, tinged with the clean, faint scent of wood.
The sliding door opened—and heat and steam rolled over him in a single, enveloping wave.
Inside, it was all wood. Walls and ceiling lined with knotty boards, darkened and softened by years of steam. Voices echoed faintly under the high rafters, mingling with the gentle sound of water.
Even the baths at the Royal Guard barracks felt small by comparison.
At the center lay a great wooden bath, set down into the floor. A pipe fed it constantly.
It didn’t stop.
Water flowed in without pause, spilling over the rim and slipping through narrow grooves between the boards, disappearing as easily as it came.
Ando felt his chest tighten.
—It’s overflowing.
Back in Imresia, hot water was earned. You coaxed flame from flint, burned precious wood, hauled water again and again, and waited.
You didn’t waste it. Not a drop.
And yet here—fire came at a touch. No wood, no waiting. The bath filled, and kept filling— overflowing, as though it would never run dry.
Tien glanced at him, catching on quickly.
“Hey—if you’d rather, you can go in first. On your own.”
Ando hesitated, then gave a small shake of his head.
“…Might I join you?”
It was no longer enough to watch from the outside—the circle of Dracoserpens laughing through the steam. Before he knew it, he had begun to wish, just once, to step into it himself.
Kiba started, “You don’t have to force it—”
but Yuki cut him off immediately, looping an arm around Ando’s shoulders as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
“That’s more like it! Then in you go!”
He barely had time to react—
—splash.
Water thundered through the bath. A spray shot up, the veil of steam rippling as droplets struck wood and stone.
Ando went pale.
He’d… made it overflow.
A chill ran straight down his spine.
But no one so much as blinked.
The water level, briefly dipped, was already climbing again—pouring in, rising, spilling over as if nothing had happened. It spread across the floor and slipped away through the drains, while the heat and steam never let up.
“Yuki, what are you, five?”
The others followed, wading in one after another, laughter layering over itself. Steam thickened around them, the air turning warm, heavy, almost soft.
Yuki scrubbed the water from her face, grinning.
“See? Way better together, right?”
The water buoyed him, easing the weight from his body. In the haze, everything softened—distance, outlines, even the boundary between one body and the next.
No one stared at his scales. No one flinched at the scar where his tail had been.
The heat rose to his shoulders. Tension drained from him, melting away like ice.
Slowly, Ando let out a breath.
Laughter echoed through the steam, sinking deeper than sound—settling somewhere inside him.
Being part of it still felt a little unreal.
And yet—This… was better.
Not something to think through. Just something he knew, settling gently in his chest.
It had only been four days since leaving Imresnople. Everything about the Dracoserpens—their ways, their thinking—had taken him by surprise.
And, he realized…he was beginning to enjoy it.
