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Dryadic Dragon Chapter 5: A Contemplative Breakfast
🕑 Added 2025-05-25 03:52:42 +0000 UTCChapter 5: A Contemplative Breakfast
Faint traces of sunlight pierced through the exuberant drapes attached to my bedroom windows. A deep yawn escaped my windpipe as I stretched my arms and legs as far as they could go, a relieving, satisfactory crunch echoing from them in perfect unison.
I wish I had been reincarnated as a Devil sooner. Not having to worry about the dreaded calf cramp while doing my morning stretches is a liberating luxury I can’t help but relish.
I sat upright on my feathery mattress, peering out the window in rumination. Surveying the mix of modern technology and medieval architecture and artistry that made up the bustling streets of the Buné territory.
How should I put this? I was expecting the Underworld’s image to be more—hellish.
Landscape-wise, it doesn’t seem all that different from what I’d expect to see up above. A bright-blue sky with clouds of varying shapes and sizes calmly drifting across the aerial canvas, grass, flowers, and all sorts of forestry and all sorts of flora—some recognize, some not, spanning across terrain—and a long, narrow river running through the border between our area and Tannin’s Dragon Mountain.
Supposedly, the sheer area of Dragon Mountain is so great that it not only borders us—but spans all the way to the Gremory Territory.
A fact I uncovered after doing some light reading in our library before going to bed, to hopefully give me a slight edge in my lessons with Thora going forward.
I also learned that our sky is supposed to be permanently purple, but to help Reincarnated Devils settle into the Underworld, the Four Great Satans—our ruling body—created an artificial moon using Demonic Power and adjusted the entire time flow of the realm to match the human world.
An awe-inspiring feat, one that was spearheaded by the greatest mind among Devilkind—Ajuka Beelzebub.
Oh, and we also share the land with a completely different species called Fallen Angels. But that’s a headache for another day. I’ve already got enough of them on my plate as things stand, I’d rather not overwhelm myself lest I want to crash and burn—as Sebastian likes to say.
At any rate, I can save my reverie for another day. There’s work to be done.
I walked over to my bedroom mirror to switch out of my nightwear into something more suited for physical activity, only to be temporarily distracted by the fact that my hair was in the exact same state as it was yesterday, despite my disruptive habit of constantly shuffling around in my bed sheets while I’m sleeping.
It’s like I’ve got an uncontrollable form of Hair Magic that serves no other purpose but to keep my mane as spiky as physically possible.
Eh, I don’t especially loathe it. I’ll just think of it as my iconic image from now on.
“Whew, he-llo handsome!” I couldn’t help but whistle at my own physique upon discarding my pajamas. Devils were already naturally muscular thanks to the passive effect of having Demonic Power coursing through our veins, and I had undergone the excessive training of the Buné family on top of that.
Not bad Alduin. Not bad at all. You can’t be a musclehead without the appropriate amount of muscle.
But soon, that’ll all change. I’ll have both brains and brawn; it’s the only way I’ll be able to climb towards the soul-crushing target that is my father’s level of excellence and renown—a goal befitting of a foolish second-lifer such as myself who is aspiring to become his perfect self.
Also, the old man said it himself. Physical strength is all well and good, but it won’t be enough to pass the awakening ceremony.
I won’t fail. No. I can’t fail. Otherwise I’ll be naught but a hypocrite who lied to himself about putting his second chance to good use.
That absolutely cannot happen. I don’t think my soul would be able to bear such a deplorable fate. Moreover, I don’t think I’m going to get a second, second-chance. As they say, lightning never strikes the same place twice.
I opened my awfully expansive wardrobe, my eyes drifting over rows upon rows of sumptuous regal clothing that I never bothered to wear—let alone even try on even though they had all been ideally suited to my measurements.
My attention gravitated towards a dark-gray tracksuit that complemented my hair, with dark-red stripes a similar shade to Thora’s fierce irises running down the sides—finished by House Buné’s draconic insignia pressed into both sleeves in a blood-red coloration.
“That’ll do.” I admired my family’s tailoring while turning from side to side to examine how the clothing looked on me.
Suddenly, I heard the sound of a familiar, rhythmic knocking tap against my door that I had memorized the day prior.
“Young Lord, breakfast has been prepared. Would you like to eat at the dining table? Or in your room?”
I know which answer the old me would’ve gone for, but the old me has no place in this lifetime.
“I’ll eat at the table.” I opened the door, facing Thora who was donning her maid uniform as per usual—and appeared to have woken up much earlier than I.
Fortunately, she doesn’t have to cook my breakfast herself. We have chefs here who cater to my family’s peculiar diets. As it would seem, our Clan Traits affect what food we’re capable of digesting without our stomachs attempting to regulate them like a cat coughing up a hairball.
The Dragonification Clan Trait restricts one to a purely meat-based diet, and the Dryad Clan Trait to that of explicitly vegetables. Which explains Sebastian and Martha’s dinner plates, as well as my own, since I possess both. Albeit, I am a little surprised that the meat part is already affecting me prior to my ceremony.
Sniff. I guess this means I have to part with my beloved donuts, pizza, toast, and a wide list of foodstuffs that I thrived on, including my most treasured of all—instant ramen—the lifeblood of any college student. Farewell, my beloved. You will be deeply missed.
“Young Lord, I’d advise against standing there with a birdbrained look on your face. The food will get cold if you dawdle too long, and then you’ll end up throwing another tantrum.”
Thora’s sharp tone snapped me out of my stupor. Also, I can’t believe Alduin really had a habit of code-switching from a musclehead to a bratty child whenever he didn’t like his food.
As someone who lived on the cheapest grub one could procure for his entire college life, I’m appalled at his lack of appreciation for this house's succulent cuisine. How shameful.
“Sorry, sorry. I just got lost in thought for a second.” While we were walking down the hallway, something came to mind. “Hey, have you eaten yet?”
She side-eyed me. “Young Lord, I fail to see how that’s relevant. I will eat breakfast alongside the staff once the time arrives.”
“I know, but I’d like you to eat with me for a change.” As I said, words alone won’t be enough to improve my relationship with her.
At the same time, trying to do something drastic out of the gate is not only bound to result in failure—but will also raise suspicion about my sudden shift in demeanor.
Her lips dropped into a slight frown, not that I wasn’t expecting her to be a little put off by the suggestion. It’s not like I could make myself more appealing without changing anything, the point is just to begin with minor changes and work my way up to something more major.
“Young Lord. This is the second day in a row you’ve suggested something that would be improper in terms of etiquette.” She chided me, unaware that I wasn’t planning on letting up so easily. “Is there something you’d like to tell me? If this is all just a part of you acting whimsically, I’d highly suggest you cease immediately.”
A mischievous sneer befell me. I was prepared for some resistance, but I’m not letting you go that easily.
“Oh? If we’re going to bring up proper etiquette. Then wouldn’t neglecting father’s orders for you to always keep an eye on me be an even bigger breach of conduct? I mean, just think of all the problems that could arise while I’m eating alone. I could accidentally stab myself with a fork, or my chair could topple over and result in me hitting my head or— “
“Young Lord, I think that’s enough—” She tried to intervene, but I still wasn’t done.
“Or worse! I could end up being late for my mother’s morning daily training session, all because the Head Maid sent to watch over me wasn't there to ensure I was punctual. Could you imagine how furious she’d be? Maybe she’d even—”
“I said that’s enough!” She yelled in irritation, her face reddening ever so slightly. “I don’t understand why you wish for me to eat with you so badly, but if that’ll make you stop acting like a quarrelsome toddler. Then I suppose I have no choice.”
The corners of my mouth stretched upwards as I looked at her knowingly. “Thora, I didn’t hear you call me Young Lord then.”
Her eyes widened in horror, as if Sebastian himself was staring her down. “I—”
“It’s fine. Actually, I’m happy that you didn’t refer to me by title for once.” I smiled warmly, feeling my expression soften. “Even though I’d much rather you call me by my name instead, I suppose this will have to do for a start.” I continued to stroll down the hallway without saying another word.
She silently followed me, but I didn’t need her to say anything to know that she was seriously considering my suggestion. Probably taking a hint that I was being genuine, and not just bringing it up on a whim.
“It smells good doesn’t it?” I remarked as the smell of what I initially believed to be bacon, but quickly dismissed upon recalling last night’s reading session.
As it turns out, meat consumed by most High-Class Devils in the Underworld comes from creatures called demonic beasts. They’re basically just animals capable of harnessing Demonic Power. Lord Sitri published a whole encyclopedia on them, but I’ll give it a gander at another time.
Maybe when it’s my turn on the familiar forest rotation.
“House Buné’s chefs are renowned for a reason.”
I took my seat, picking up a strip of—whatever the meat was with my fork and holding it towards Thora. “Here, say ahhhhh.”
She looked at me blankly. “You can’t be serious.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Either you take it from my fork, or you’ll have to take it from my tongue.”
If there’s one thing I’ve learned from Sebastian and Martha, it’s that threatening people is a very efficient way to get what you want.
“I’ll take the fork,” she said in resignation after swallowing a nervous gulp.
That’s what I thought.
“Hey, Thora. There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” I said with an analytical disposition.
“Yes?”
“Are Mother and Father—planning anything for our house? Considering me in particular.” My mind returned to last night’s conversation, particularly a subtle jab Martha had given Sebastian, which he refused to acknowledge.
She paused momentarily before answering, heightening my suspicion.
“No. Even if they were, I don’t see why someone in my position would be privy to such a thing.” She answered calmly while taking a sip from a cup of coffee. “You should be focused on preparing for your morning session with Lady Buné, she’s just as particular about punctuality as Lord Buné.”
Someone in your position, huh? Thora’s been watching over me since I left the womb. Even if her title is that of “Head Maid,” I know for a fact that Father trusts her more than he does any servant in this estate. As a matter of fact, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say he trusts her more than he does Mother.
I smell something awry.
“I see, I suppose you’re right.” I continued to eat my breakfast, sure that I wasn’t going to get any answers out of Thora anytime soon. But that’s fine, I’ll just find them elsewhere.
