Chapter 36: Undercurrents of the Dragon Clan

Chromie hummed a light tune as she skipped through the bronze corridors of the Ruby Sanctum. She had dressed up today in a shimmering little gnome dress, the hourglass at her waist tinkling musically with every step.

"Your Majesty~" she drawled, pulling a small pouch embroidered with gold thread from her pocket. "I’ve arrived, and I have gifts."

Alexstrasza was resting on the crystal platform at the heart of the sanctuary; she lifted her draconic head at the sound. Her scales rippled with a weary crimson in the sanctuary’s glow, yet a flicker of warmth crossed her eyes upon seeing Chromie.

"Chronormu," the Dragonqueen’s voice was low and gentle, "what are you plotting this time?"

"Oh, I was just passing by!" Chromie giggled as she climbed onto the platform, dumping a handful of gold coins at the Queen’s claws. "Look, aren't these just beautiful?"

The coins tumbled between the dragon’s claws, reflecting the griffin emblems meticulously carved by Ironforge smiths. Chromie seized the moment to lean in. "Oh, and I also brought a copy of *Fairy Tales of the Eastern Kingdoms*!" She pulled a gold-leafed picture book from her bag. "The orphans in Stormwind say it’s wonderful..."

The Dragonqueen’s claw paused slightly.

"...though, of course, many of those children have become orphans quite recently," Chromie sighed, feigning indifference. "Silvermoon was burned so terribly; even the elves’ fairy tale books were turned to ash."

The air in the sanctuary suddenly solidified. Chromie pretended not to notice, continuing to flip through the book. "Look how interesting this story of 'The Little Red Dragon' is. It’s about a small dragon who saves a village..."

"Chronormu." Alexstrasza gently closed the book. "The dragonflights do not interfere in the wars of mortals."

"I know that~" Chromie swung her feet. "It’s just that I feel..." She suddenly pointed to the illustration on the final page, which depicted a village being razed by orcs. "If the Dragon Aspects had helped back then, wouldn't those villagers have been saved?"

The Dragonqueen silently pushed the book back to her, her claw tip leaving scorch marks on the stone dais. "The fate of mortals must be written by the mortals themselves."

Chromie blinked, suddenly adopting an innocent tone. "Then what if... and I’m just saying *if*... an entire race of mortals were on the verge of extinction? Like the High Elves?"

"Enough!" Alexstrasza’s draconic aura flared suddenly, blowing Chromie’s little braids about. But in the next second, the Queen returned to the guise of a gentle elder. "...Would you like to see my newly hatched eggs?"

Chromie chewed on a lollipop, her eyes crinkling into crescents. "I’d love to~"

Chromie sat on a small stool in the hatchery, swinging her short legs and sucking rhythmically on her lollipop. The Dragonqueen was nudging a shimmering egg with the tip of her nose, her movements as delicate as if she were handling fragile morning dew.

"Your Majesty~" Chromie spoke up suddenly, her voice laced with deliberate innocence, "When I flew over Northrend yesterday, I saw that ice-covered lump next to Wyrmrest Temple was still belching black smoke."

Alexstrasza’s pupils contracted slightly, but she did not stop her movements. "Icecrown Glacier has always been a place of bitter cold."

"That’s not it!" Chromie waved her small hands theatrically. "I mean that mountain peak with the giant ice spike! It’s less than three hundred miles from our sanctuary!" She counted on her fingers. "You see, it’s so close. I can’t help but worry."

"—The Lich King’s throne." The Dragonqueen finally looked up, her golden, slit-pupiled eyes fixed on Chromie. "What is it you are truly trying to say, Chronormu?"

Chromie blinked her large eyes. "I’m just curious~ That’s such a massive nest of undead, bubbling out abominations and ghouls all day long, and it’s just across a snowfield from us..." She lowered her voice. "What do you think will happen if the Lich King decides one day to send a legion of frost wyrms to pay us a visit?"

The temperature in the egg chamber soared, and the shells near the Dragonqueen began to show scorch marks. Alexstrasza immediately reined in her breath, but Chromie had already noticed the molten lava dripping from her claw tips.

"The Dragon Aspects do not interfere in the—"

"—wars of mortals, I know~" Chromie interrupted with a grin.

Chromie licked a newly produced strawberry lollipop, her little leather shoes tapping lightly against the crystal floor of the hatchery. The Dragonqueen continued to tend to the shimmering egg, but the scorching heat permeating the air betrayed her suppressed rage.

"Speaking of which..." Chromie suddenly stopped swinging her legs, her voice uncharacteristically low. "I saw Sapphiron in Northrend a few days ago."

Alexstrasza’s claws tightened sharply, and the shell of the egg gave a faint crack. She immediately loosened her grip, but the fracture remained.

"Oh dear, the shell cracked!" Chromie hopped off the stool, pretending to be flustered as she leaned in. "Should I call a bronze dragon healer to—"

"Continue." The Dragonqueen’s voice sounded as if it came from the abyss.

Chromie tilted her head, rolling the lollipop in her mouth. "Sapphiron looks so ugly now... covered in shards of ice, his eyes glowing with blue fire, flying around killing people for the Lich King." She counted on her fingers. "Circling around the Dragonblight..."

"Enough!"

The temperature in the room skyrocketed, and the Titan runes on the walls flared with blinding blue light. Chromie’s braids were blown straight by the heat wave, but she didn't budge, continuing in her innocent tone:

"The worst part is, the Lich King put an iron collar on him, with 'Arthas’s Most Loyal Servant' engraved on it..."

The red stone floor melted into magma beneath the Dragonqueen’s claws. Sparks erupted from between Alexstrasza’s scales, but in the end, she did nothing.

"We... cannot interfere." The words were squeezed through her teeth.

Chromie suddenly slammed her lollipop onto the ground, shattering the hard candy into fragments. "You can stand by while your own kind are turned into war machines?!" Her gnome disguise began to flicker, and the power of time bled from the corners of her eyes. "Is it Korialstrasz’s turn next? Or mine? Or—"

"—You don't understand at all!" Alexstrasza’s roar shattered the stained-glass windows of the hatchery. A wild gale rushed in, blowing away the magic that maintained Chromie’s disguise and revealing her true bronze dragon form for an instant—but in the next second, the Dragonqueen had regained her composure. She lowered her head to lick the cracked egg, her voice suddenly weary to the bone. "You are still young, Chronormu... some shackles are heavier than death."

Chromie was struck dumb.

Back at the Deren estate in Theramore, Chromie curled up on a sofa in Deren’s secret chamber, her bronze scales still trembling slightly with anger. She stared at the half-shattered lollipop in her hand, her voice lower than ever. "...Her condition is clearly wrong. She keeps repeating that 'cannot interfere in the wars of mortals' line like a broken record; she can't even come up with a new excuse."

Deren did not answer immediately. He stood by the window, watching the dark clouds on the horizon, his expression unutterably grave.

"No, she has already said it," he suddenly spoke.

Chromie looked up abruptly. "What?"

"You said Alexstrasza keeps repeating that the dragons cannot interfere in the wars of mortals," Deren confirmed. "That is her true thought and her true course of action. Because it is an order."

The hourglasses in the room suddenly stopped. Chromie’s pupils shrank to needles. "That’s impossible! No one can order us, the Dragon Aspects—"

"—Is it really 'no one'?" Deren sneered. "Have you forgotten how the Dragon Aspects came to be?..." He paused deliberately. "In the earliest eras, you were all just wild, primitive dragons. Who bestowed upon you the divine power to become the five Dragon Aspects?"

Chromie’s small claws sank deep into the sofa. "It was... it was... it was..." She lacked the courage to say the name.

"They haven't appeared for so long." Deren’s voice pierced her scales like an ice pick. "You have forgotten their existence." He pointed to the north. "When Neltharion tried to break his shackles, you saw only that he had 'gone mad,' never thinking—"

"—Never thinking that he might have been the first to wake up." Chromie finished the sentence, suddenly shivering all over.

"My father wasn't truly mad! This is insane." Onyxia cried out. Through the mist, she had discovered a new and terrifying world.

Deren walked to the bookshelf, leaning against it, and said faintly, "Noble houses in Stormwind love to keep dogs, whether for hunting or for guarding the house. But there is always a chain around the dog’s neck."

"This," Chromie said dryly, "we are just some kind of guard dogs as well. The title 'Dragon Aspect' sounds imposing, but in essence, it is no different from a dog belonging to a mortal noble."

"My father may have seen this truth at some point in time. That is why he had to go mad," Onyxia remarked. "And because of his madness, he bought my brother and me a moment of freedom."

"Could it be..." Her voice was as thin as a mosquito's, "that the Scourge was permitted?"

Deren did not answer directly. He opened the window, letting the salty sea breeze pour in. In the distance, the lights of the Theramore plaza were bright; people were preparing for the rescue operation the next day.

"Think about it: what if the races of Azeroth united because of the undead crisis?" His words mingled with the sea breeze. "Isn't this a very successful story of justice uniting to overcome evil? One that could be passed down for a thousand years."

Chromie suddenly felt a chill run through her entire body. As a bronze dragon, she knew better than anyone—stories like this didn't happen by chance; they happened constantly. The War of the Ancients was like this, the Orcish invasion was like this, and this undead invasion was even more so.

"What should we do?" she asked softly.

Deren rubbed the insignia of the agricultural company. "Save those who can be saved." His gaze turned toward the north. "We are the readers outside the story. Let us break the arrangements made within it."

"Interesting, oh haha..." Onyxia laughed. "So interesting! I love a good surprise." She walked over and hugged Deren. "Do you already have a plan? I can't wait to see the expressions on those old things' faces when they are stunned by the unexpected."

"Shh!" Deren pressed a fingertip to her lips. "Do not speak lightly of them. Their eyes and ears are very sharp."

Onyxia nodded.

Chromie hopped off the chair, pacing back and forth, her left hand supporting her chin, her eyes filled with doubt. "One last question: what is their purpose in doing all this? They are already existences beyond the mortal realm, possessing supreme wisdom. They wouldn't waste energy on meaningless things. Deren, what is your theory?"

"My theory is actually not that complicated," Deren said with a smile. "I heard a story back home. There was a noble with vast wealth and property, but he only had one son as his heir. He was getting old and his health was poor, so he wanted to train his son well. Can you understand that sentiment?"

The two female dragons nodded.

"Good. Now, to turn a young master who only knew how to enjoy life into someone capable of inheriting the family business in the shortest time possible, he had a few choices." Deren held up a finger. "One way was for him to teach him personally, showing his son how to handle various family affairs, how to deal with other nobles, how to haggle with merchants, how to manage servants—in short, to teach him all necessary knowledge. It meant letting his son observe and imitate him. That is what a normal person would think of. But the drawback is that the process is slow, and the effort might even be in vain."

"Of course, he could also hire professionals to teach him accounting, martial arts, noble etiquette, and so on. There are too many things to teach, and no guarantee he will learn them," Deren continued. "Finally, the old noble decided to test a brand-new method to let the child grow up in the shortest time possible."

"What method?" Chromie asked curiously.

"Faking his own death!" Deren’s words were shocking.

"What kind of method is that?" Chromie said dismissively.

"Right, it’s not a normal method," Deren explained. "But it has one advantage: it forces his son to take over the family business immediately, and he has to face and solve every problem on his own. Meanwhile, the old noble observes his son’s actions from the shadows. If there is a problem, he can offer suggestions through the butler. In this way, when the young master encounters difficulties, he follows the advice, solves the problem, and grows rapidly, becoming increasingly skilled at handling different situations."

"Huh, in that way, it really is a good method." Chromie nodded, then asked doubtfully, "Does the story you told have anything to do with the problem we are discussing?"

Deren nodded and continued, "Although the young master grows rapidly by handling daily affairs, some things aren't encountered just by chance, so the old noble who faked his death was terrified that the child wouldn't learn certain special skills."

"What skills?" the little gnome asked cooperatively.

Deren said blandly, "For example, the intrigue between nobles, secret conspiracies, bribery, espionage, or attacks by thieves. These things are far more terrifying than daily affairs. Once handled poorly, they lead directly to the destruction of the family."

"That’s true, these things are common among nobles. How could the young master learn to handle these dark matters?" Onyxia had once lurked in the noble circles of Stormwind and was very familiar with this.

Deren continued, "The method the old noble thought of was to hire a team of thieves himself, and according to a specific script, stage a plot of intrigue between nobles without the young master’s knowledge. Of course, this requires the butler to act as the head director, making both sides cooperate to act out this grand play."

"Ah—" Chromie shrieked. "You, you, you don't mean that's really happening, do you!"

Onyxia’s mouth was also wide open, too shocked to speak. Could the truth really be that simple?

Deren gave a cold smile. "Perhaps it is, perhaps it isn't! But does the truth really matter?"