Osamaru Ta
patreon
(AS) B2 - Lesson 53: "It's 5 o'Clock Somewhere."
🕑 Added 2024-09-17 18:33:50 +0000 UTCHow does one capture a drake without killing it?
Not easily, apparently.
Alpha had expected this, of course. Both Dr. Maria and the goblins had theorized as much, even if neither had any experience.
“That doesn’t mean it’s impossible, of course,” Garrelt said, addressing the meeting table. “Halirosa has a proud tradition of drake hunting. Being so close to the Forest of Giants, it’s not uncommon for drakes to wander into the Crimson Mountains from the north.”
Garrelt pointed to an enormous sea north of the Crimson Mountain range, labeled ‘Starfall Sea.’ Bordering the sea and the mountains was a thin strip of land that stretched the length of the northern edge of the continent. Two long peninsulas jutted out from either end of the continent, giving the entire thing a serpentine appearance. In fact, the peninsulas were even labeled ‘Serpent’s Head’ and ‘Serpent’s Tail,’ respectively.
In bold letters, surrounded by what Alpha could only assume were warning signs, was the region’s name;
Níohoggr’s Grave.
Garrelt’s finger slid across the map toward the east and paused on a forested area that took up nearly two-thirds of the eastern peninsula, the one labeled as the ‘tail,’ before suddenly ending in a jagged mountainous area near the tip.
It looked small compared to the rest of the planet and the massive mountain range to the south… Until one considered that if Alpha’s estimates of the planet’s size were correct, the forest was easily three to four times the size of the Amazon back on Old Earth, even after its restoration.
Garrelt smirked, “Though keep in mind, those that wander far enough south to be a problem are those forced out of their flocks for one reason or another. The sick, the old, the runts of the litter. Yet even they’re still dragon-blooded creatures. Every drake season, not a few fools underestimate the creatures and die horrible, painful deaths or —”
“Garrelt…” Robert growled in warning.
Garrelt raised his hands defensively. “Hey, I’m just making sure you all understand that while it might not be as hard or dangerous as fighting one head-on, capturing a drake is no simple task. If we do this, we do it right, or people will die.”
Maggy squinted her eyes and frowned. “Why do people capture drakes to begin with? Seems like a lot of trouble,” she asked.
Dr. Maria was the one to answer that question. “Likely the same reason our Dungeon Core friend wants one. A live drake is worth far more than a dead one — particularly to the dragon clans. With the right formations and methods, a living drake can be continuously harvested for materials for years. Not that those greedy bastards don’t use that as an excuse to rip others off.”
All eyes turned to the doctor. She folded her arms and smirked. “What? You think I run the business I do with just charity work? Please.”
Once more, Alpha wondered just how many cookie jars the old crone had her hand in.
“Right, anyway, as I was saying,” Garrelt addressed the group, “Capturing a drake isn’t easy. Their dragon blood gives them powerful spiritual senses. They can spot ambushes before the ambushers even see the creature. They can detect traps like pitfalls and snares easily. Even if hidden under multiple layers of stealth arrays. Nets or chains are equally ineffective, as their monstrous strength means they can easily rip through them unless they’re made of high-quality materials.”
“So, how do you capture one, then?” Antchaser asked.
Garrelt smirked. “Drake hunters have a few methods proven to work over the years. However, only one is known to be both safer and consistent,” the man said.
“… And that is?” Antchaser frowned and folded his arms.
Garrelt smirked, grew wider, and he turned to Bert, who met the man’s gaze with a wide grin of his own.
The giant man answered for Garrelt. “We get them smashed!”
——————————————————
“Do we really have to do this?!” Maggy asked as she stared at the waist-high pitch-black hole in the cliff face.
Boarslayer sneered at the slightly shivering human woman. “It’s a hole, girl. A well-explored and frequently traveled hole. Even if we come across something unexpected, that’s why we have a Forward. You’ll be perfectly safe.”
Maggy spun and pointed at the much larger woman. “It’s not what’s in the hole I’m worried about!” she said. “It’s the bloody mountain falling on top of me!”
Boarslayer folded her arms and leaned on her hip. “Fat chance of that. Tunnels like this don’t form if they can’t support their own weight. And that’s before it’s reinforced. Just don’t go blowing things up while we’re in there.”
Maggy threw her hands in the air. “Why do we even have to go down there?!” she asked.
Antchaser and Garrelt rounded the corner, carrying a strange, low-rimmed mine cart. Garrelt sat his cart down before turning to Maggy. “Because the village doesn’t have the necessary [Dragon Ale] for the plan. Importing it from Halirosa would also defeat the purpose, so we have to… improvise.” The scout leader flicked his wrist, and a glistening peach appeared in his hand. He took a bite out of the Everbloom Stone Peach and grinned.
Antchaser sighed. “We have nothing in the village strong enough to get a [Core Condensing] drake drunk, so we have to improvise,” he said, slicking back his mossy hair. “According to our scouts, there’s a massive peach orchard in the neighboring cavern. If we gather enough, we should be able to make a decent spirit wine using the village’s… technique.” Antchaser side-eyed the two human Adventurers.
It was actually Alpha who would make the wine, using his strange control over time, but the humans didn’t need to know that. The village leadership had agreed it was best for the expeditionary team to remain in the dark regarding the Dungeon Core’s influence over the village. For now, at least.
“That’s fine,” Maggy said before pointing at the hole, “but why do we have to get there through that?!”
Antchaser moved his cart to the tunnel entrance and locked it into a set of hidden rails. “This is the most direct route to the cavern in question,” he said as he fiddled with the cart. “It’s an old ant tunnel the village converted into a railway for the hunters. Like Boarslayer said, it’s frequently traveled and well maintained.”
Ok, so it was primarily Alpha’s ants that actually used the thing, but again, that wasn’t something the Adventurers needed to know.
“If we take the main tunnels, it would be a two-day round trip, not counting the time to gather fruit. We won’t make it in time if we rely on that route,” Antchaser continued.
Garrelt narrowed his eyes. “Make it in time for what, exactly?” he asked.
Antchaser flinched slightly but recovered quickly. “To capture the drake before… something happens, of course.”
Garrelt raised a brow but didn’t comment further.
There was a metallic click as the last mine cart was fit into place, and Antchaser stood. “Finished. Let’s get going. It’ll take an hour to get there,” he said, dusting off his pants.
Maggy eyed the linked mine carts warily. “How are we going to actually get there? Those carts aren’t big enough for all of us, and don’t feel like crawling on my knees through a cramped tunnel for an hour, regardless of how safe you claim it is.”
Antchaser grinned, then smacked the side of the nearest mine cart with his hand.
The carts shook slightly, and there was another click. One by one, the front and back of each mine cart lowered, then connected to the one in front of it. After a moment, the dozen mine carts fused into one long, flat-topped train, leaving just enough room for the four of them to lie down on.
Antchaser bent down and crawled on top of the carts, moving toward the front. He called out behind him. “If Dr. Maria’s estimates are correct, we’ll need several loads for the plan to work, so hurry!”
Boarslayer and Garrelt exchanged a look before shrugging and moving toward the entrance.
Maggy looked back toward the village and sighed.
I hope things are going well on their end…
——————————————————
Smack!
“Not here, fool! I said over there!”
“Y-yes, ma’am!” the Adventurer responded, rubbing his head as he dragged the freshly cut log toward the processing area. He could feel the old woman’s disapproving eyes burning into this soul the entire way and so quickened his step.
“Humph.” Seeing the slacker speed up, Dr. Maria rolled her eyes and turned to lock eyes with an older goblin woman directing another crew off to the side.
As she made her way in that direction, the goblin woman — Weaver — shouted something at working Adventurers and goblins, then walked toward Dr. Maria as well.
The two women stopped and sighed as one, their shoulders sagging slightly.
“I’m getting too old for this,” Weaver said. “I thought these were supposed to be to be your ‘elites?’ Why do I feel like I’m herding a group of toddlers?!”
“Kids these days. I doubt half these ‘Adventurers’ have done anything but kill spirit beats and mana monsters in years.” Dr. Maria responded. “It makes me wonder what they’re even teaching them now these days.”
“Good thing we’re here to set them straight, right?” Weaver said.
The two women exchanged a grin and cackled before heading off to find a new victim — eh, worker.
Alpha didn’t have a spine — or a body — yet somehow, he still felt a shiver run through his being. Weaver and Dr. Maria had gotten along from the very start, and Alpha was starting to question if it had been a good idea to introduce them…
The two men standing beside the activity echoed Alpha’s thoughts.
“Hey, Bert…”
“Yea, Robert?”
“What’s happening?”
“I’m… not totally sure.”
“Do… do we stop them?” Robert asked.
Big Bert slowly turned and looked at Robert with one raised brow.
Robert silently returned the look before he turned back to the controlled chaos.
“Right…” he muttered, almost to himself.
“YOU TWO! WHY ARE YOU JUST STANDING THERE? PICK UP A TOOL AND GET TO WORK!” Dr. Maria yelled from across the field, causing the two men to flinch.
Bert and Robert looked at each other again before Bert shrugged and walked toward a waiting group.
Robert pinched the bridge of his nose, and his shoulders sagged. A moment later, he followed the large man.
In the middle of the field, the skeleton of a massive wine press was slowly taking shape.
