Wild Dragon of Rome 45 (Patreon)

Astrid’s footsteps quickened as I grunted in pain and frustration. I opened my eyes and looked at my scaled arm, expecting to find a mangled, bloodied mess, but only to find a pristine limb, one that was covered with scales.

That was good. Even better was the spread of the scales, which hadn’t expanded any further. But, that was all I was able to examine before Astrid arrived with a shocked expression on her face. “Are you well?” she asked, her hands twitching to reach my scales. Thankfully, she had enough presence of mind not to touch without my permission. She limited herself to a visual inspection. But, with my arm angled, she wasn’t able to see much.

“Yes. I was trying to make the scales grow just like you taught me, but it was more painful than I expected,” I said. I had been doing the exact opposite, of course, but it was an easy lie to tell. I was already dealing with a transformation I couldn’t stop despite my best efforts. There was no harm in believing that my pain was the result of trying to hasten the process like Astrid wanted, rather than reversing it.

“And, were you successful?” she asked.

“Check yourself,” I said as I stretched my scaled arm, and presented it to her.

The moment she saw my arm, she looked shocked. She didn’t exactly gasp, but it was a close thing. It was understandable. While today’s transformation had only added a few scales, it wasn’t an insignificant number.

After all, her explanation made it clear that raising a true shapeshifter — or, a holy warrior as she called it — required years even under ideal circumstances. She took my arm silently, dragging her finger over my scales. “Is there anything wrong?” I asked.

“Not particularly,” she said. “I was just surprised by the development of the transformation,” she said. “It’s … unusual.” Her attitude was enough to tell me that it was something more than just unusual, but I let her get away with that obvious lie.

“I tried to follow your explanation. Is there anything wrong?” I asked.

“Not particularly,” she said. “The scales look strong and correctly formed, which means you infused them with enough essence. Still, you need to be careful. Dilute the essence too much, and you might corrupt the transformation. And, without the original immaculate beast, we can’t fix it.”

“I’ll be more careful,” I said. For a moment, I considered pulling my arm back, not letting her check my arm magically, knowing that she would find something that ran contrary to her expectations. But, I killed that thought as soon as it occurred. My transformation was still not under my control, and sooner or later, she would realize the irregularity of it.

It was better to slowly introduce her to the secret, from an angle she would find the least offensive. “Why don’t you check it magically, just in case,” I offered.

“It would be my honor if you’re willing,” she said, and only after I nodded she extended her magic over the scales, caressing them like they were holy relics as she cast her spell.

As I watched her, I came to a sudden realization. She was not just fascinated by my scales, but also revering them. To her, holy warrior was not just a statement.

It was my Roman upbringing that had made me mistake that fact. To us, gods were to be respected, certainly, but other than certain days and ceremonies, religion was stuck to the temples, handled by the priests and priestesses who were forbidden from holding mortal positions.

It was one of the oldest laws, a leftover from the days when Rome was still ruled by the kings. It didn’t change, not when the kings were overthrown and the Republic was established, or when the Republic burned in the fires of civil war. Even when the Republic split into two, and the East declared itself an Empire, that rule was followed.

The only other law that was followed with such fervor was the sacred, untouched nature of Pomerium, a holy ground at the center of the city of Rome, the birthplace of Rome itself.

And, with the religion truly isolated from both politics and military — not that there was much distinction between the two as far as Rome was concerned — I had dismissed the significance of the name holy warrior.

An absurd oversight. In my defense, I had too many things to think about.

I watched Astrid with that realization, who caressed my scales absentmindedly, easily infusing them with her mana. She only examined the scales, never bypassing the limits I had requested of her, even though she had no reason to suspect I could actually control it, unaware of the true lengths of my mana sensitivity.

That kind of respect made it tempting to open more, and let her examine my body completely. Too bad that my possession of elemental cores made opening up a risky proposition, certainly when she was concerned.

However, soon, her expression of relevance shifted, turning into shock. She abandoned her attempts to contain her shock and gaped. “How could it be?” she gasped.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

She paused even as the power that gathered on her fingers got stronger. I could see the conflict on her face. Together, it was clear that she was considering she had finally noticed something extraordinary about the scales, enough to make her consider whether to violate her promise of only examining the scales and nothing more. I didn’t blame her for it. In her place, I would have certainly done so.

But, I was certainly happier to see she had ignored the temptation and kept her spell focused on my scales. It showed that I could trust her. Not with the full range of my secrets, and certainly not immediately, but it was still useful.

“What’s the verdict?” I asked.

“It’s not what I expected,” she said. “For such a quick progress, I assumed you have spread your existing essence thinner. It was a quick way to hasten the transformation, but an ill-advised method, limiting the future potential of a holy warrior. Yet, it’s not like that. The essence you have in each scale is even stronger.”

“Is there a problem?” I asked.

“Not exactly a problem, but creating new essence is a slow process. What you have just achieved should take at least a month, and that’s with external essence being continually fed from an immaculate beast.”

I made a show of frowning to look like I was in deep thought. “Maybe it was about my ability to collect mana from the environment. Lillian mentioned that mana I collected and kept in my body was much easier to convert to water vitae than mana she gathered herself.”

Astrid paused, looking thoughtful. “That makes sense, I suppose,” she said hesitantly. I could see that she was reconsidering the strategic implications of my ability, even though it was a much-reduced version of my true ability.

I could see her beautiful green eyes alight with greed and temptation. After all, it was one thing for Lillian to brag about the benefits of our special ‘mana transfer’ sessions. Maybe she took Lillian’s bragging as an exaggeration, not understanding the true extent of her improvement. She must have assumed that Lillian was getting just a minor boost. After all, Lillian was still plenty strong when they met.

Seeing the same impact on my scales, in a way she could quantify the impact was something different. Suddenly, it was something relevant to her. Something she could give the power she desperately needed, something that would help her once our deal came to an end and we separated.

I didn’t know just how strong she was compared to the other priestesses, but it didn’t matter. The allure of more power was always tempting.

It was something I understood. After all, I had spent years doing my best to get stronger, even though I yearned for freedom. One that I couldn’t just get by escaping from the estate. After all, what did freedom mean if I had to hide like a rat, bowing and scraping?

No, power was necessary for freedom.

And, at this moment, I could see that exact same expression on Astrid. Not that it was a surprise. Betrayed and hunted by her own tribe, and saved only by a coincidence, Astrid’s situation was one I could easily emphasize. Her temptation was equally understandable.

I had a feeling that all I needed at this moment was to make a move and kiss her to convince her of the benefits of our method. However, I decided not to do so, even though I welcomed to have someone else to assist me in keeping my mana levels below the limit.

The reason was simple. I had already taken advantage of her enough. I wasn’t willing to push her on such an intimate topic. If she wanted to do that, she needed to take that step on her own.

“I …” she muttered, temptation on her face clear. Yet, after a moment, she stood up. “I will leave you to your meditation. You’re making excellent progress,” she said.

And, retreated.