A Symphony Of Frost And Flame

13 • LARICE

Larice never thought she would have to waste her time talking to this weird man approaching her. She needed to head on her way now or else the dragon hunters from Shavath might arrive to catch her. But here she was.

The sunlight of noon had shone the young man's blond hair and green eyes even brighter. "I am Estevan de Alion." He offered his hand to her with a warm smile. Although Larice was tall, he stood with more height than her.

Larice only gave his hand a glare, then back to his face. "You're foreign. Where'd you come from?" she said.

"My lady, I'm from the country of knowledge and wisdom—Celestia," Estevan replied as he fixed his hair, blown by the sea breeze.

"Celestia?" She stormed her brows, trying to recall where she heard the name before.

"Yes ... In fact, I've come a long way to get here," Estevan said. "And you are?"

She let out a huge breath before saying, "Larice ... Larice Whitewind."

"Such name could never be from Drava, I believe. And those blue eyes are telling me the same."

"I was born in Glacia."

"Glacia ... the cold country and the northern lands of winter, you mean? Astonishing," Estevan said. "I've always wanted to go there. Well, I might after this chronicle I'm worki—

"If you're only here to chat, then you came to the wrong person. You're just wasting my time, sir," Larice replied coldly. She wouldn't trust this guy. The fact that he traveled overseas gave her the thought that he must have been gone to Sunvar City before. She had to be careful. He might have recognized her as one of the wanted criminals in Sunvar and report her to the authorities.

"That's exactly where I'm going," Estevan said, "You said you're a dragon hunter, am I correct?"

Larice nodded. She didn't lie though. She was actually a dragon hunter but had not slain a dragon yet. That almost did not make sense to her.

"As what I'm saying, I'm working on my first chronicle," Estevan explained. "I myself wanted to discover all about dragons and how they live ... how they interact with each other and—"

"And from what that hunter said earlier—that's ridiculous," Larice interrupted. "Dragons are only mindless beasts who burn everything alive."

"I have to disagree," Estevan said. "Because according to an old chronicler, Antonio Gregor, who had not finished his writing about dragons because of his accident ... may he rest in peace ... Dragons live their own lives just as we humans do. They have their own culture and religion."

"And why are you basing your make-up facts on an unfinished chronicle?"

"Because it's based on the chronicler's actual experiences," Estevan argued, adjusting his round glasses.

"Well, my facts are based on my experiences too." Larice sounded childish, but she couldn't help herself. "Those beasts know nothing but death and destruction."

"That ... is what I'm trying to find out." Estevan pointed at her face. "If you let me come with you, I'd finish what Antonio Gregor wrote on his chronicle and prove you wrong."

Larice snorted. "There's no way I'm letting you come with me."

"And why is that?"

A momentary silence filled the air between them.

Larice pursed her lips and glanced at the crashing waves on the shores for a moment. What good would it bring if she traveled with a company? Nothing, she answered herself. She never wanted to go with anyone. She grew up alone ... and independent. She had enough people coming into her life already. Faran ... she remembered, this guy would only end up like Faran by the time he discovers the truth about her.