The Color I Did Not Know
And yet the very hero-priest who had sparked this argument in the first place, Seherbian, was simply watching them with a blank expression.
As expected, Ren has an absurdly strong sense of camaraderie. It’s fine to want to protect your comrades, but does he really need to make an enemy of the emperor for it?
Pushed this way and that, caught in the crossfire from every direction—at this rate, it seemed only a matter of time before Varzian collapsed from within.
Seherbian tilted his head, then, just before the conflict could escalate further, lifted a hand.
“I’ll go.”
“...Priest?”
“...Hero-priest?”
Iren and Hanna, who had been locked in a taut stare-down, both turned to him with dazed expressions.
Seherbian slung his wine staff over one shoulder and repeated himself.
“You said I had to go by myself.”
“Th-that is... true, but...”
The noble from Hestallion, who had been bracing for a fight, nodded in bewilderment. Iren was just as shocked by the unexpected curveball.
“Priest, that’s a dangerous proposal.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
Did he even know what kind of place the Hestallion imperial family was, and still accept so readily?
Of course they had come all the way to this unfamiliar land in response to the imperial summons, but that had only made sense because they had all moved together.
Iren muttered with a hardened face, “It’s true that you wanted to meet a dragon, but it’s not something you should do at the cost of abandoning your comrades. We can make money elsewhere, so there’s no need for you to get dragged into something dangerous on our behalf...”
“Ah, that’s all right.”
“Huh?”
“Because I know them well.”
“...Huh?”
At that completely unforeseen answer, Iren froze, and then Seherbian turned to Hanna.
“Hanna Sel Yurk.”
“...Yes.”
“If the place I have to go to is here, you mean that one, don’t you?”
Everyone’s eyes followed the direction he indicated with the tip of his white staff.
As the soldiers who had been encircling them like a siege line backed away at Hanna’s gesture, something that had been hidden at last came into view.
RUMBLE—
Iren’s eyes widened as he too noticed the door, from which a roar poured out like the sound of crashing waves or a raging storm.
Door...!
For Iren, who had once visited Winter Bell’s lair in the snowy expanse of Blanconia, it was an all-too-familiar sight standing there so boldly before him.
The enormous door was entirely made of water, its frame adorned with ceaselessly flowing waves and shell-like ornaments that seemed almost too wondrous to be real. It was the teleportation magic used by the Bells—Door.
Seherbian, having found a familiar Door, smiled faintly.
“That works out nicely. I was just about to come looking for you.”
And Hanna, looking at him, stood in awe.
They say the hero-priest can communicate with dragons—so had he already sensed Asubell’s summons?
Of course, the only thing Seherbian had actually done was send Asubell a message that he would be coming over soon.
Unaware of that fact, Hanna lowered her head in reverence toward the hero-priest’s sacred power.
“Indeed, Hero-priest. Please pass through that door. The rest will be taken care of by the one waiting there.”
Seherbian gave a perfunctory nod and strode past the soldiers to stand before the door.
“Priest Seervi!”
But before he could enter, Iren ran up and caught him by the shoulder.
“You know what that door is, don’t you?”
“Yes. It’s Asubell’s Door.”
“...Really, really, are you sure this is okay?”
Iren stared straight into the priest’s sunset-colored eyes as if trying to measure the resolve behind his calm answer. Then he checked again, just to be certain.
“Can you come back?”
“Of course.”
“Your opponent is a dragon. You know dragons better than I do, priest, don’t you? Those freaks can’t be judged by human standards!”
“Well, yes, that’s true. But if you say that to their face, they’ll hate it.”
“As if I’d do that!”
He was acting as though Seherbian had two lives to spend, but the priest only looked up at him with a sour expression.
Iren didn’t stop there, either. He leaned in and muttered at his ear.
“Besides, even if they’re both dragons, Winter Bell and Asubell are different on a completely different level. Winter Bell has no interest in humans, but Asubell even made a guardian contract with the Hestallion emperor.”
“Oh...”
Seherbian was briefly startled that the other man knew he had no interest in humans at all.
Come to think of it, it was stranger that it hadn’t shown. Winter Bell did not merely refrain from involving himself in human affairs—he had even wiped out winter itself once because he didn’t want to work.
“I’m more worried Ren will lose his temper in front of the emperor. Mind your words in the imperial palace.”
“Seriously, who’s worried about whom here?”
“I’ll be back.”
Iren ran a hand over his face and let out a long sigh. Then, as if to encourage him, he gave Seherbian’s shoulder a light pat.
“All right. See you later, priest.”
Only after Iren finally backed down did the dangerous atmosphere ease at last. With the matter settled by the hero-priest’s sacrifice—not really a sacrifice, but close enough—both Hestallion and Varzian set down their weapons and took a breath.
Meanwhile, Seherbian approached the Door and placed his palm lightly on the surface of the flowing water. A cold current brushed against his skin.
Entry into the lair requires the other party’s consent. Would you like to wait?
“Yes.”
Seherbian quietly watched the tightly shut door. The wait was not long.
Chime!
Adrian Asul Bell has granted entry into Grassri.
Along with the clear sound of a bell, Mimir relayed Asubell’s answer.
At the same time, the firmly closed door slowly began to open. With a bubbling hiss like rising foam, dark waves rolled and surged before his eyes.
Seherbian strode into the door, where the water churned like a rough tide.
Splash!
With the sound of plunging into water, the door closed behind him. Bubbles burst all around as turbulent currents surged in toward him, whirling into a vortex.
By the time the spray settled, the surroundings had changed from a harbor into a quiet mansion.
Tick... tock...
The interior was so still that the ticking of a clock’s hands rang out with perfect regularity. Seherbian stood there for a moment, listening, then turned toward the window.
Beneath the clear sky, a neatly laid-out garden came into view.
There was a fountain carved from white stone, and roses bloomed brilliantly along the arches set around it, instantly drawing the eye.
And in the middle of it all was a tiny girl tending to the flower branches.
A human? No...
On closer look, she was no ordinary human.
She looked to be about eight years old. Her soft pink hair, like strawberry milk, shimmered smoothly in the summer sunlight. Around her, a water spirit in the shape of a small foal hopped and skipped about.
The child’s laughter rang out, bright and spotless, lovely to hear.
But Seherbian’s expression turned cold.
She’s a half.
A half-blood born between a dragon and a human.
In principle, it was an aberration: a fetus that should have perished under the dragon’s mana, yet had somehow been conceived and born safely for special reasons.
When they were young, half-dragons took after the human form and human traits.
But because dragon essence mingled in the blood flowing through their bodies, they underwent grotesque mutations as they grew—such as being able to draw upon mana without limit, or having wings suddenly sprout from their backs.
Many died suddenly during that process of mutation, and even those who survived without dying never aged, so human society treated them as monsters.
Needless to say, they were not accepted as dragons, either.
Half-dragons were like a strange disease that could not belong anywhere. No wonder, in human society, they were treated as slaves like Jack.
It was precisely at that moment, while Seherbian was looking down at the child through the window with a slight furrow between his brows, that a composed voice came from behind him.
“Have you arrived?”
“Ah.”
Seherbian tore his gaze from the window without a shred of reluctance and turned around.
“Long time no see, Adrian.”
At the doorway stood a member of his own kind, someone he had not seen in ages.
Hair like the sky, eyes like the sea—the blue dragon Adrian Asul Bell of the Azure lineage. Adrian hesitated with a somewhat troubled expression, then approached him.
“What brings you to Hestallion?”
“Nothing much. I was passing by and thought I’d stop in.”
“Honestly...”
Those eyes looked at Seherbian as if he could not possibly make sense of him.
“Where is your guardian?”
“I didn’t bring him.”
“You mean you came out of Blanconia alone?”
Guardian dragons almost never left their own territories.
They always stayed in the same place, fulfilling the duties entrusted to them—governing the seasons, making flowers bloom in their time and leaves fall when their time came, harmonizing the world.
Never before had a dragon dared to dream of deviating from the divine mission given to them. But Seherbian only smiled faintly.
“Mimir came with me, too.”
Chime.
At the mention of its name, the white staff gave a shy little jingle.
Adrian, too, possessed a blue staff of his own. Rather than a bell, Asubell’s staff was set with a large blue gemstone, which now sparkled and shed light as though answering Mimir’s ring.
“Seherbian.”
This time, Seherbian did not answer, only looked at him silently. Meeting those sunset-colored eyes, impossible to read, Adrian paused for a moment before speaking again.
“You seem tired.”
“Do I?”
Asubell gave a small nod.
“Would you like to sit here?”
Then he gestured to the sofa and offered him a seat. The two dragons sat facing each other with a table between them, a classical vase resting atop it.
Adrian swept his staff lightly over an empty cup he had set out in advance, and sweet-smelling tea water rose into it on its own. As they drank a little of the warm tea, the mood softened considerably.
“Do you remember the day I first came to greet you, Seherbian?”
There was no need to ask; Seherbian remembered that day vividly as well.
Back when Adrian had just become an adult dragon and taken on the duty of guarding the seasons, Seherbian had been struggling against the people who were fiercely opposed to “winter.”
I tried everything I could to change their minds.
When the world denied him, it felt as though he became a useless being.
He had been afraid. Now he could barely imagine caring what people thought of him, but back then there had been nothing more serious than that.
“You told me to find my own color.”
Watching the water dragon speak of the past in such a solemn voice, Seherbian gave a dry laugh.
“That was just the kind of generic advice an elder would give.”
“I found it.”
Those sunset eyes, cooled to a chilly temperature, fixed on the blue dragon as though they could pierce him. Adrian, pretending not to notice the warning in that gaze, went on.
“At first I thought it was a color I disliked, like oatmeal.”
“Right.”
“On some days it became the color of dawn, bright and shining; on others, it deepened into an old, dignified ash-gray.”
Seherbian, wondering where this was going, leaned back comfortably into the sofa.
“There was a person I’d say had exactly the clear blue I love most, but on certain days he would turn into a somewhat overcast sky-blue, and on others into a cold indigo mixed with black paint.”
Seherbian sipped his tea without replying. In any case, the other side was not speaking in expectation of an answer.
“And there was also a color I was certain I understood completely.”
Adrian smiled lightly at his seemingly indifferent senior.
“But one day it suddenly became a color I had never known at all, and without warning—as if someone had splashed tea across the floor—it rudely soaked the hem of my clothes.”
Oddly enough, his long sleeves looked spotless. As Seherbian set down the empty cup on the table, he asked as if tossing the words away carelessly, “Is that about the child outside?”