At the center of the palace courtyard, a massive dragon stretched its wings wide.
[Yawn~ That was a good sleep.]
Markus, having rested well overnight, had also devoured heaps of at specially prepared by the royal chefs.
Miaomiao had not refused the feast either.
The amount the two divine beasts consud far exceeded what ten magical beasts would eat.
By morning, dozens of palace chefs were working at full speed to lay out a grand breakfast banquet for Markus and Miaomiao.
Golden-hued silver platters were heaped with roasted ats and generous portions of lamb stew.
There was more—crispy fried turkey, beef marinated in a special sauce, fruits of all kinds, and bread slathered in rich butter.
Markus sprawled on the ground, happily devouring entire platters as if he might swallow them whole.
[Sis! Isn’t this amazing? If I could eat like this every day, I’d never ask for anything more!]
His tail wagged enthusiastically with delight.
Miaomiao smacked Markus on the head.
[Don’t eat so much! You’ll drain the entire royal kitchen!]
Despite her scolding, Miaomiao was equally gluttonous.
Only after exhausting the royal chefs did Markus and Miaomiao finally let out satisfied sighs.
[Haah, that was perfect. Alright, ti to get ready. You guys can climb on now.]
At his words, the knights—who had been watching closely—moved swiftly and in perfect coordination.
The journey had begun.
...
With swift and practiced movents, the knights leapt onto Marcus’s back and began setting up a tent designed specifically for Princess Astrid.
But this was no ordinary tent.
Made from magically reinforced waterproof fabric capable of withstanding fierce winds, the tent’s fra was constructed from a lightweight yet durable magical alloy—another creation of Leonardo.
Each knight moved efficiently, fulfilling their individual tasks with precision.
So unfolded the fra across Marcus’s back, while others secured leather straps between the dragon’s scales to minimize wind resistance.
"Tighten the anchor straps!"
"Angle adjusted—fra ready for locking!"
Iron rings clinked as they were fastened one by one.
The knights moved in perfect sync, fluid as one body.
Soon, the dual-layer tent was fully set up.
The outer layer was a weatherproof and wind-resistant shell, while the inner layer was made of velvet infused with warmth-preserving enchantnts.
Inside, there were soft cushions for comfort and a compact heating system to provide warmth during high-speed flight.
This tent, mounted on the back of a dragon traveling at incredible speed, would serve as a haven of stability and comfort for the princess, even in the harshest of conditions.
Once the tent was complete, the knights moved on to inspect their own harnesses.
They clipped carabiners on their belts to the long safety ropes and tightened everything to reduce sway during flight.
The tallic clicks of latching buckles echoed in succession.
Each knight tugged their own harness to confirm its security before partnering up for final cross-checks.
They ticulously inspected one another’s gear, nodding in confirmation once everything passed.
Their expressions were a blend of tension and anticipation.
To fly on a dragon to attend a summit that would determine the fate of the continent—
What greater honor could a knight ask for?
Only Marcus and Miaomiao would accompany them on this journey. No other magical beasts were brought along.
Their destination was the Kingdom of Telma, located at the very heart of the continent.
Its central location made it an ideal eting place for the summit.
Speed was essential for this mission, and traveling with more beasts would only hinder them.
Since the plan was to return promptly after the summit, minimal baggage was needed.
Bringing additional beings that required protection would only slow them down and complicate the route.
Thus, only Marcus—known for his unmatched mobility—and Miaomiao—intelligent and powerful in battle—were selected.
"You may board now!"
The knight captain called out in a loud, clear voice.
Michael was the first to climb onto Marcus’s back.
His movents were smooth and confident.
He quickly checked the saddle and handholds, adjusted his posture, and secured his balance.
Alfred settled behind him—his presence protective, as though watching over Michael.
Princess Astrid and Duke Capone entered the completed tent.
The interior was roomier and more comfortable than expected.
Enchanted velvet lining blocked the cold and wind, while thick sheepskin blankets were laid across the floor.
Harnesses were installed inside to ensure safety during flight.
Astrid fastened her soft fur cloak as she took her seat.
Michael approached and clipped her carabiner to the harness with practiced care.
Astrid glanced outside the tent, her cheeks slightly flushed.
It was her first ti traveling such a long distance this way, and excitent mingled with nervousness.
Duke Capone also took his seat and exhaled deeply.
Michael helped him fasten his harness as well.
"So... we’re really departing," the duke murmured.
At that mont, Marcus let out a spirited cry.
[This is my first ti going to the Kingdom of Telma! What kind of food is good there?]
Astrid answered in her usual calm voice.
"Telma is famous for its sweet, delicious fruits. I also heard their lemon-roasted fish is excellent. I’ll treat you to so when we get there—try it."
Miaomiao promptly smacked Marcus on the head.
[Ugh! You gluttonous little chick! After all that food, you’re still talking about eating? Try acting like a divine beast for once!]
Marcus, struck without warning, grumbled with clear resentnt.
[Says the one who ends every sentence with Miao.’ How divine is—]
He clamped his mouth shut and launched into the sky as Miaomiao’s fur began to bristle.
It wasn’t a good ti to push his luck.
Marcus’s enormous wings spread wide in an instant, and a fierce wind surged around them.
The servants and maids gathered to send Astrid off wobbled under the sudden gust.
Unable to suppress her rage, Miaomiao shouted:
[Stop right there! I swear I’ll roast you like a dragon kebab today!]
In the anti, Sigmund, Emperor of the Celeste Empire, lounged lazily at the head seat of the grand conference table.
To him, all matters of the world were dull and uninteresting.
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