The afterglow of the Verican mansion’s liberation was short-lived. A new, terrifying missive arrived from the capital: The Great Wyrm of Aethelgard, a colossal dragon long thought dormant, had awoken, razing the city of Valeria and threatening to consume the entire eastern coast.
The King’s command was urgent: the Montclair Knights were needed.
Marin stood before her brother, her heavy armor gleaming, sword at her hip. "Malric, I need you ready. This is the biggest threat we've faced since Lumeria."
Malric, however, was slumped against his staff, his face unnaturally pale, a sheen of sweat on his brow. His usual sharp eyes were glazed, and his breathing was shallow. "My mana... it's like a damp cloth," he mumbled, his voice raspy. "I can barely hold a simple light spell."
Marley, ever the attentive healer, pressed a cool hand to his forehead. "You have a raging fever, Malric. The stress of the gem, the exhaustion from the Iron Peak... your body is protesting." She looked at Marin with concern. "He's in no condition to fight a wyrm. He needs absolute rest and powerful restoratives."
Marin's jaw tightened. A dragon required their full strength, Malric's strategic mind and magical defenses especially. "Then who will accompany me?"
Just then, Jessica stepped forward, her usual playful demeanor replaced by a steely resolve. "I will. My light magic may not be raw power, but it’s fast. And my instincts are sharp." She looked at Marin. "We’ve fought together before. We can do this."
Marley nodded. "I'll stay with Malric. He won't be alone." She gave a confident smile, though a flicker of mischief danced in her eyes. "Besides, I'm a healer. It’s my job."
The Unlikely Caregiver
Malric, though barely conscious, managed to groan. "Marley... please don't experiment."
"Relax, big brother," Marley chirped, patting his arm. "You're in the most capable hands in the realm!"
Elsa, who had arrived to help assess the magical fallout from the gem, surveyed the situation with her usual calm smile. "Perhaps this division of labor is precisely what is needed. Marin and Jessica, your combined focus and speed may be more effective against such a creature than raw, unrefined power. And Marley..." She glanced at the young healer, a knowing glint in her eye. "Malric will certainly emerge from this... changed."
The Call to Arms
The preparations were swift. Marin donned her heaviest dragon-scale plate, her shield emblazoned with the Montclair crest. Jessica, forgoing her usual flowing skirts for practical battle leathers, focused her silver light into a potent, shimmering aura around her hands.
"Be careful, both of you," Elsa warned, her staff glowing with a protective ward. "Dragons are cunning. This one will be expecting an army, not just two determined women."
As Marin and Jessica mounted their horses, the sun was already high. The road to Valeria was long and perilous. The weight of an entire city, perhaps an entire coast, rested on their shoulders.
"We will return," Marin vowed, her eyes locked with Jessica's. "And we will bring the Wyrm's head."
"You better," Malric mumbled weakly from his cot, barely audible. "Or I'll never hear the end of it."
Marley just grinned, already preparing her first "healing concoction"—a murky, steaming liquid that smelled vaguely of burnt herbs and something suspiciously like fish. "Don't worry, Malric. By the time they get back, you'll be feeling... brand new."
As the two knights spurred their horses toward the horizon, leaving a cloud of dust behind them, Marley turned back to her patient. Malric, now fully in the throes of fever, had already begun to twitch uncontrollably.
"Alright, Malric," Marley said, holding up the steaming mug. "Time for your first dose. Open wide!"
Malric let out a whimper, clearly regretting his earlier instructions. The long, strange, and undoubtedly hilarious saga of his recovery had just begun.
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