Chương 282: 58. Flight Plan 2

According to what Ignicia had said yesterday, flying from the Three Rivers Fortress to Fort Louis would take half a day, assuming a tailwind. Theoretically, she was correct. The problem is, the thing most likely to get you killed on a battlefield is usually the phrase "theoretically correct." Especially when our squad was currently hauling thunder charges and fire oil.

The commonality between these two items is very simple: in peacetime, they are military supplies; when something goes wrong, they are your suicide note. There is no middle ground. You cannot expect someone to detonate into a spectacular firework at ten thousand feet and then casually respawn on the ground to say, 'Ah, my bad, minor miscalculation.' So, after flying for about two hours, I tapped the shoulder of the female rider in front of me.

"Signal the front. Ask Ignicia to order a full squad descent. We're taking a one-hour rest." The rider glanced back at me, as if trying to determine whether I was issuing a lucid command or if the high-altitude wind had finally given me brain damage. But ultimately, she didn't say a word. She simply raised her short flag and snapped out a series of crisp, efficient aerial signals toward the vanguard. Moments later, the massive crimson silhouette at the very front slightly banked its wings.

The next second, the entire Yinglong Guard folded inward like a closing fan, following the open, grassy slope bordering the forest below, and began a rapid descent. Honestly, it was a breathtaking maneuver. Six hundred female riders and their wyverns dove in perfect unison, their massive shadows sweeping over the grass. The morning wind was violently shredded, kicking up a chaotic storm of dirt, shredded grass, and dead leaves.

It was spectacular, yes, but as a man who had been strapped to a saddle and wind-blasted for two hours, my only coherent thought at that moment was: Thank the gods, I can finally put my life back on solid ground for a minute. After dismounting, my legs were still buzzing. I had to stomp the ground twice just to make sure I wasn't about to drop to my knees and worship the Earth Mother in front of everyone. Then, I dragged an empty wooden crate over, stepped onto it, and clapped my hands twice.

"Everyone, eyes on me." The riders, who had been adjusting saddle straps and checking securing cables, turned to look. Several wyverns were resting on the ground, exhaling thick plumes of white frost from their snouts. Standing on that little box amidst the monsters and elite soldiers, I felt exactly like a wildly overconfident traveling merchant pitching snake oil. Excellent, Cedric. You've unlocked a new life achievement. I used to be dragged around by destiny like a dog on a leash.

Now, I was standing on a box giving weather reports to six hundred wyvern cavalry.

"We still have about an hour of flight time left," I said, clearing my throat.

"I need everyone to cooperate and do a few things for me right now." The area was dead silent. It was a very subtle kind of silence. It wasn't impatience, nor was it absolute obedience. It felt more like a crowd of highly lethal female soldiers collectively deciding to pause and see what new, entertaining nonsense this human male was about to spout. The pressure was immense. But I was used to it. After all, I hadn't survived this long by relying on an imposing aura.

I survived by having skin thicker than a fortress wall.

"First, pull out your rain ponchos now. Don't wait until we hit the eastern sector and start panicking. The weather over there flips faster than a noble breaking a contract. The way those cumulus clouds were stacking up there... once we cross into the eastern mountain wind belt, we are very likely going to hit a flash storm." Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

I paused, pointing toward the rear where the small crates marked with hazard symbols were strapped.

"Second, I'm going to have people redistribute the fire oil and thunder charges. A few of the wyverns are running heavy. If the weather suddenly turns on us, or if we need to execute an emergency low-altitude dive, the wind pressure and your center of gravity are going to fail. I do not want to see anyone turn themselves into a cautionary military legend before we even see the enemy." This time, several riders in the crowd visibly nodded. However, someone immediately spoke up.

"How do you know it's going to rain?" The voice belonged to a rider adjusting her arm guards. Her tone wasn't openly defiant; it was purely skeptical. It was the standard, veteran-to-temporary-commander skepticism: You'd better actually know what you're talking about, because if you don't, we're the ones who are going to end up looking like drowned rats. I looked at her and smiled.

"When you've lived in that hellhole for almost twenty years, you learn how to read the weather." The moment those words dropped, the silence shifted. Then, a few low chuckles rippled through the ranks. It wasn't mocking laughter. It was the 'Alright, fair enough, I'll buy that' kind of laughter. I hopped off the wooden crate, yielding the floor to the logistics personnel who were already moving in.

Several squad leaders sprang into action, first tallying the rain gear, then aggressively unstrapping and rebalancing the explosive payloads across the wyverns. The Yinglong Guard was terrifyingly efficient in this regard. As long as someone gave them a clear, logical reason, they executed orders faster and cleaner than most aristocratic councils. After all, noble councils debate for half a day only to conclude with "we shall table this for next time."

If these riders delayed by half a second, the conclusion was usually "my lower half is missing." Just as I was breathing a sigh of relief, genuinely feeling like I had accomplished something vaguely competent today, a familiar, scorching heat pressed into my back. I didn't even need to turn around to know who it was.

"Don't pamper them too much." Ignicia had materialized behind me at some point. Her voice was kept low, yet it still carried that innate, unreasonable sharpness.

"They are soldiers, not your daughters." I turned my head slightly, glancing at her. She was in her human form now, standing in the morning wind. Her crimson hair was slightly disheveled, and the residual heat from her draconic transformation clung to her like a translucent veil. Honestly, the fact that a dragon capable of terrifying people into paralysis could land and look like this was the greatest insult to human rationality. And so, I very naturally did something highly irrational.

I reached out from behind, gently wrapping my arm around her waist, and leaned my head down close to her ear.

"So... do you want a daughter?" Her entire body noticeably stiffened. Just for a split second. But considering the target was Ignicia, that single split second was enough for me to brag about for the next six months.

"Y-you—watch that mouth of yours." Her voice stayed low, but the very end of her sentence wavered, betraying a trace of panic.

"Cedric, your tongue has gotten incredibly slick lately."

"So you prefer the days when I was just relentlessly sarcastic to you?"

"Your personality is so damn extreme!" I couldn't help but laugh.

"Evidently so." She reached back and smacked the back of my hand. It wasn't a heavy blow; rather than trying to stop me, it felt more like a symbolic gesture to salvage the last shreds of her dignity as the Fire Dragon Princess after realizing she had no actual counterattack. What made it even more lethal was that we weren't alone. In the distance, several female cavalrymen hauling crates were professionally pretending they had suddenly gone entirely blind.

Only one of them was trembling violently by the shoulders, clearly suffering internal injuries from trying to hold in her laughter. This was the true horror of elite troops—when it was time to play blind, they were absolute masters of the craft. An hour later, the fully reorganized Yinglong Guard took to the skies once more. This time, I wasn't assigned to someone else's backseat. Because Ignicia directly shifted back into her dragon form.

Her colossal crimson wings slammed open across the grassy slope, her scales gleaming like superheated steel under the daylight. She lowered her massive frame, turning those gold-and-red draconic eyes toward me. The message was as simple as it could possibly be: Get on. I stood there, staring at the gargantuan beast that by all rights should only exist in myths and apocalyptic prophecies, and for a moment, I felt a profound sense of absurdity.

Yesterday, I was in the Three Rivers Fortress, hauling wooden crates, rationing fire oil, and begging people not to pick fights with each other. Today, I was going to ride a literal fire dragon straight into Fort Louis. My life wasn't just full of ups and downs; it felt more like God had grabbed me by the ankles and was aggressively swinging me around a room. But at this point, playing hard to get was meaningless.

I stepped onto the lowered joint of her wing, using her forelimb armor as a foothold to vault myself up. The moment I grabbed the thick ridges of her spinal scales, Ignicia violently beat her wings— The grass, dirt, and loose leaves across the entire slope were instantly annihilated by the updraft. And we shot straight toward Fort Louis.