Shut up, malevolent dragon! I don’t want to have any more children with you V2C41

Chapter 41: Casmode (Part Two)

The maids felt that His Majesty’s mood today was very good.

No.

Not just good.

It was extremely, extremely, extremely good.

And why did the maids feel this way?

Because the notoriously workaholic boss had surprisingly let them off early— and it had been two days in a row already.

Not only that, His Majesty had been smiling all day, not keeping a stern face as usual.

After dealing with some tricky tasks, she even hummed a catchy tune happily.

In conclusion, the maids had two bold guesses:

His Majesty might be pregnant with triplets;

His Majesty might be preparing to conceive triplets.

“I’ve let you off early already. Why aren’t you going back to rest? What are you all still doing here?”

On the throne of the palace, Rosvitha, buried in paperwork, didn’t even lift her head as she spoke.

The maids immediately nodded and bowed, not daring to speculate too much about His Majesty’s unusual behavior today. They nudged each other and left the palace one by one.

With only Rosvitha left, she unconsciously hummed a cheerful little tune again.

In her fifty years of reign, she had rarely been as happy as she was now.

For fifty years, she had almost been repeating the same day:

Wake up, freshen up, breakfast, work, lunch, work, dinner, overtime, rest.

Over and over, year after year.

The Dragon Clan’s long lifespan was like an endless sea, and Rosvitha was a lone boat adrift in it, aimlessly carried by the winds and waves, letting them take her wherever they pleased.

But what lay further ahead?

Still, it was a boundless sea.

Her work was the same. She’d tidy up the mountainous pile of work logs the night before, only to find another mountain spring up the next day.

Rosvitha never complained.

Because she knew complaining was futile.

Moreover, she was the Silver Dragon’s ruler; in the eyes of her kin, she was a leader, a beacon of faith, a spiritual anchor. She couldn’t afford to show fear or retreat in any matter.

But did she like being a ruler? Did she enjoy facing an endless stream of work? Did she relish spending half her life in this cage called a throne?

She didn’t know.

She thought with time she might come to loathe this life.

Yet in the end, neither loathing nor joy, Rosvitha felt no aversion, let alone pleasure.

Her heart was like a tranquil forest, occasionally disturbed by a few birds flying out, but otherwise, there were no ripples.

And what she never expected was that the one to infuse her monotonous life with joy would be a human.

That idiot with no particular talents besides dragon-slaying and child-rearing, whose drunken “I like you” lingered in her dreams, made Rosvitha couldn’t help but ask herself if she was truly starting to develop feelings for him.

But he was a human, and a contentious adversary who enjoyed challenging her. Why would she develop feelings for him?

The Silver Dragon Queen had solved countless problems for her tribe, yet when it came to her own, she couldn’t seem to find a way out. And unfortunately, she couldn’t ask anyone for help. The only person who could uncover the secrets in her heart was herself.

Suddenly, footsteps echoed in the temple, interrupting Rosvitha’s thoughts. She looked up to see who it was. Well, speak of the devil.

Leon carried two buckets of paint, with various brushes of different sizes and two aprons of sky blue in his tool kit around his waist.

Rosvitha eyed Leon from head to toe. “What, have dragon slayers been laid off and retrained as honorable… painters?”

Leon grinned, not responding to Rosvitha’s jest, and walked over.

“I’ve stipulated before that no one is allowed to bring paint or any similar substances into the temple, otherwise, it’s half a month’s pay deducted.”

She had a slight case of cleanliness OCD, and paint and similar stuff had a strong smell, and if it spilled, it would be hard to deal with.

But even though she said that, she didn’t actually stop Leon from coming over.

Well, because the good-for-nothing didn’t have a salary to deduct.

She put down the pen in her hand, propping her chin with one hand, and looked down at Leon below the throne.

Leon also looked up at her. “When do you finish work?”

“Depends on my mood. What’s up?”

“Help me out, change the color of the Black Gold War Chariot.”

Rosvitha immediately perked up at the mention. “Alright, let’s go.”

She closed the work log, rose from the throne, lifted her skirt, and briskly walked down the steps.

Leon was taken aback. “So decisive? It’s not time to finish work yet.”

“I said it depends on my mood.”

Leon raised an eyebrow. “So, you mean you’re in a good mood now?”

“So many unnecessary words. Are you coming or not?”

“Let’s go, let’s go.”

The couple walked side by side, leaving the Silver Dragon Temple.

They arrived at Rosvitha’s private warehouse set up in the back mountains, and the two of them entered one after the other.

When he was in the Dragon Slayer Army before, the dragonkind he fought against didn’t know his name or appearance; they only described him as “the person in black armor”.

Gradually, this nickname spread among the dragonkind. After all, someone from an outsider tribe wielding thunder and lightning, slashing dragons at sight, was impossible not to spread.

Just like Rosvitha’s grandmother said the day before yesterday.

And before he put on the Black Gold War Chariot and set foot on the battlefield, in order not to arouse suspicion from the Silver Dragon tribe, he casually applied some silver paint on the armor and no one recognized him under the cover of night.

But such crude disguises could only fool people temporarily, not for a lifetime.

Leon had a premonition that he would have to stay with Rosvitha for quite some time, at least until they uncovered the empire’s conspiracy.

Considering that the empire might become desperate and send more dragon kings after Leon, he decided to prepare in advance this time. They couldn’t afford to procrastinate like they did during the incident with Constantine.

After explaining to Rosvitha why they needed to change the skin of the Black Gold War Chariot, the two of them took out various parts of the armor one by one. They tied on their aprons, then sat on the ground to begin their “armor spa.”

“Speaking of which, why didn’t you ask the daughters for help? Isn’t Noia back?”

Rosvitha cradled the helmet of the Black Gold War Chariot in her arms, carefully applying paint.

Leon hesitated, “They… are with the old lady. It’s their first meeting, so it wouldn’t be appropriate to disturb them.”

That was a reasonable excuse. But Noia had returned yesterday, and the three daughters had spent the night with their great-grandmother. It was almost evening now, so it had been a whole day. No matter how close the generations were, they shouldn’t be sticking together all the time, right?

If Leon just said, “Who wants to help Dad paint?” Noia and Muen would probably rush to help. What? Little Light? He could barely walk properly; he’d better stay in his room.

Besides, the daughters didn’t know the origin of this armor, helping out wouldn’t tire them out, and it could even improve the relationship between father and daughters.

Thinking of this, Rosvitha’s mind stirred, and mischievous thoughts bubbled up inside her. “Oh, so you didn’t want to disturb the children and the old lady.”

Leon stole a glance at the mother dragon and replied in a muffled tone, “Yeah.”

“Oh.” Rosvitha pretended to look disappointed.

“What’s with the sigh?” Leon asked.

“I thought you wanted to do this thing alone with me.” She lightly scratched the helmet of the Black Gold War Chariot with her delicate nails, pouting as if she were a neglected little wife.

Leon sensed her teasing mood rising again. “…Mother Dragon, you’ve had enough.”

Rosvitha, seeing her little trick exposed, didn’t rush. She composed herself and looked up at him.

“What, now you’re saying I’ve had enough? Why didn’t you say that when you told me you liked me the day before yesterday?”

“That’s because—”

“That’s because what?”

“That’s because… I was drunk. Can words spoken while drunk count?”

Rosvitha snorted. “You got drunk after just one sip? Who are you trying to fool? You were definitely sober then.”

Leon gave her a sidelong glance, not wanting to continue this topic. Truth be told, he was indeed sober that night.

Though not much of a drinker, he could control himself after just a sip. He knew exactly what he had said at that time and the mood he was in. But bringing it up again now made him feel a bit embarrassed.

“Why so quiet? Regretting it?” The queen pressed on.

Regret? Not really. He only regretted doing something against his heart.

So that “I like you”… could barely be considered General Leon’s heartfelt words.

“Tch, who do you think you are, saying it’s said and done? Why would I regret it?”

Although Leon’s words were tough, he was indeed straightforward in this regard. Rosvitha had always admired this about him.

“Then say it again.” Rosvitha coaxed.

“Are you done? I said it and you didn’t respond. What’s the point of saying it again?”

Uh-oh. Getting impatient.

Rosvitha pursed her lips and muttered softly, “Forget it, nobody cares anyway.” She continued to paint Leon’s helmet.

As she brushed, Rosvitha noticed that all the paint Leon had brought was the same color—silver. What was he up to? Black Gold War Chariot – dazzling silver skin – Silver Dragon exclusive?

“Why is it all silver?” Rosvitha asked casually.

“I like silver,” Leon replied without hesitation.

Rosvitha was taken aback for a moment, then cleared her throat twice, trying to get the dog man’s attention.

Leon cooperatively lifted his head to look at her. Rosvitha was casually playing with her silver hair as if nothing was wrong.

Leon rolled his eyes speechlessly but said nothing, lowering his head to continue painting.

“Ahem—”

He looked up again.

Rosvitha was still nonchalantly playing with the tip of her silver tail.

Leon sighed but chose to remain silent.

“Ahem—”

“Alright, alright, it’s your silver then, okay?”

The queen’s hints were almost hitting him in the face. If Leon kept playing dead, Rosvitha would probably force him to say it. It was better for him to take the initiative.

Rosvitha was finally satisfied and continued painting contentedly.

After a while of busy work, the couple finally finished changing the skin of the Black Gold War Chariot. Looking at the newly refreshed armor, Rosvitha nodded in satisfaction. “Not bad, it looks quite nice.”

“Hmm.”

A rather dull “hmm.” Rosvitha glanced at him, noticing the lack of expression on the dog man’s face. His demeanor and mood were completely different from when they were in the temple.

Rosvitha could probably guess why he was like this—because of their recent conversation:

“Are you done? I said it, and you didn’t respond. What’s the point of saying it again?”

The stubborn boy had finally mustered up the courage to take a step forward, but that night she only hugged and kissed him without giving him any response.

Even though she hadn’t said anything these past few days, she couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy inside, right?

Rosvitha pursed her lips, hesitated for a moment, then quietly approached him and gently tugged at his sleeve.

“What’s wrong?” Leon asked in a low voice, but his gaze remained on the Black Gold War Chariot.

“Casmode.”

The queen tiptoed to his ear and whispered softly, her breath like orchids, “I like you.”