Chapter 529 - 331: Dragons Cross the Sea, Without Special Abilities

Chapter 529: Chapter 331: Dragons Cross the Sea, Without Special Abilities

Early morning, in a clearing on the outskirts of Deepwater City.

A group of dragons sat in neat rows, ready to be questioned by Elsa. This was the first time she had ever seen so many at once.

But Elsa wasn’t nervous. After all, she was the one who had faced the Ancient Dragon Zog without batting an eye.

’Hmph, as if these mere dragons could possibly scare me.’

"Doudou, you walk in front," Elsa said, pretending to be calm.

She had leveraged the perks of her job to get a collection of signed photos from pretty female cosplayers, using them to bribe Doudou into being her temporary bodyguard—no, translator.

’That damn Zog, so inconsiderate.’

If the translation magic for the Dragon Language wasn’t perfectly accurate, she would need Doudou as her bilingual backup.

She never expected Doudou to be into cosplayers. And for someone who was supposedly the "king of the kids," he was so shy around them he could barely speak, let alone ask for an autograph.

Another thing that surprised Elsa was her discovery that, while she’d always assumed people who dressed up as fictional characters did it for fun, many actually made a living from it.

They got paid for attending events, had dedicated fanbases, and could sell all sorts of merchandise—mostly photos—as well as hold in-person autograph sessions.

Thanks to their outstanding looks, Half-Elves were the A-listers of the industry.

They possessed the combined advantages of being better-looking than most races and more hardworking than pure Elves.

Getting an Elf to run around at conventions all day was a tall order.

This was all legitimate income, of course. But there was also the illegitimate kind.

Who would have thought that putting on a fictional character’s costume would become a great way to jack up prices in... certain special industries...

Arriving at their destination, Elsa finally saw the refugee dragons.

They looked truly miserable. Though large in stature, they were all skin and bones, having likely not had a full meal in months. They hadn’t left so much as a crumb of the food the Beastmen brought last night; anyone who didn’t know better would have thought they hadn’t been fed at all.

The dragons came in a rainbow of colors, most of their bodies covered in unsettling scars. ’Come to think of it,’ she mused, ’it’s amazing Zog barely has any scars.’

As she got closer, she could smell a rather unpleasant odor.

It was the kind of smell that was fishy with a hint of gaminess, mixed with the distinct, pungent stench characteristic of large animals.

’It’s understandable. I suppose refugee dragons don’t have much time to worry about hygiene.’

’Before I find them jobs, every last one of them needs to be dragged off and scrubbed clean.’

Doudou took the lead. If it weren’t for the lollipop in his mouth, the manga in his hands, and the dragon-girl character printed on his shirt, he might have actually looked like a charismatic leader.

Although Doudou had a less-than-stellar reputation among the Ancient Dragons, he was an Ancient Dragon nonetheless. The moment he appeared, these young dragons lowered their proud heads in a show of respect.

He didn’t say a word. He simply sat down, started flipping through his manga, and jerked his head toward Elsa, signaling that it was her turn.

Elsa took a deep breath and pulled a simple table, chair, paper, pen, and a translator device out of her Treasure Chest Monster.

"Ahem. Hello, everyone. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Elsa, Zog’s assistant. Do any of you speak the Common Tongue?"

The dragons stared back at her with blank expressions.

Elsa couldn’t help but sigh. ’What era is this? Still can’t speak the Common Tongue. Aren’t they just a bunch of semi-illiterates?’

She activated the translator, which converted what she had just said into the Dragon Language and played it aloud.

"I’m here today at Mr. Zhuoge’s request to gather your individual information. This includes your age, special skills, everything you know how to do, any previous work you’ve done, and so on."

At this, a Green Dragon craned its neck, looking like it wanted to say something.

"If you have a question, raise your hand. Or your claw. Uh, foreclaw."

The Green Dragon obediently raised its claw.

"Go ahead."

"What’s a ’special skill’?"

"It’s what you..."

Before Elsa could finish explaining, the Green Dragon asked another question, "Also, what’s ’work’?"

"..."

Elsa fell silent. She took back her earlier judgment. They weren’t semi-illiterate, they were completely illiterate—utterly ignorant of modern society.

"A special skill is something you do often, something you’re best at. As for work... if you want to stay in the city, which is Zog’s territory, you have to perform labor in exchange for Gold Coins. You use those coins to buy food, or you can save them. It’s up to you. I imagine you all quite like saving Gold Coins."

Elsa explained it to them in the simplest terms she could manage.

’No idea if they understood any of that.’

"Let’s start with you," Elsa said, pointing at the Green Dragon. "Name, race, age."

"My name is Merkusor. I’m a Green Dragon, and I’m... probably around one hundred and sixty or seventy years old. I don’t remember the exact number."

’One hundred sixty or seventy. A dragon that’s not long past adulthood.’

"Can you read? Even words in the Dragon Language are fine."

Although the Dragon Language wasn’t used in Deepwater City, whether or not they could read its script made a huge difference. If they could, she could just give them texts to learn new things on their own.

If they couldn’t, it would be a huge hassle. She would have to find someone to teach them claw-in-hand with a translator, which would be exhausting.

"I can, but not many words. But I can write my own name!" he said, his tone brimming with pride.

Hearing how proud he was, Elsa knew that not many dragons in this group could likely write their own names.

’What kind of education level is this? Are they even a sapient species? They’re just coasting on their natural racial talents, aren’t they?’

Theoretically, dragons didn’t really need to learn how to read. They typically only had to grow another hundred years or so to activate the written legacy embedded in their racial memory.

Unfortunately, time waits for no one, and that method of inheritance was far too slow for the pace of modern society.

"Do you know any Magic?"

The Green Dragon listed several types of poison Magic.

’She could tell just by listening that he’d never had any formal training; it was just the same old innate stuff all Green Dragons were born with.’

"Special skills?"