Chapter 582: Stupid Idea
In the days that followed, the mansion’s pace remained frenetic. Hurried races ran through the corridors, dragons trained in the courtyard, lists were crossed out and rewritten dozens of times. The atmosphere felt like war was imminent, and in a way, it was.
Scathach, always the central figure, remained in absolute control. She oversaw everything: from balancing the weight of the weapons to affixing the runes that would allow for long periods of flight without exhaustion. But as the piles of supplies grew, a shadow of doubt began to creep into her demeanor.
The problem didn’t appear suddenly—it grew silently with each new shipment that arrived. Barrels of water, bundles of food, tents, extra armor, portable forges, even lumber for potential repairs… all of it was being stacked for a journey that, theoretically, would be made on the backs of dragons across an ocean no map dared to fully represent.
On the morning of the fifth day, reality hit her like a punch.
Scathach stood in the courtyard, watching Cassandra and Monica in their draconic forms, each with enormous nets strapped to their bodies, attempt to take flight while carrying iron and wooden crates. They flapped their wings vigorously, but their movements were heavy and unbalanced. Cassandra managed to glide for a few meters before landing with a loud thud that cracked part of the floor. Monica didn’t even leave the ground.
Scarlet, who was supervising the test, looked at Scathach with an almost bored expression and muttered, “This won’t work…”
Scathach ignored her. Or pretended to ignore her. She ordered them to try again. And again.
On the eighth day, however, there was no more hiding it.
The courtyard was strewn with supplies tied in nets, and everyone—dragons and humans alike—was exhausted from the attempts. Strax, leaning against a pillar, watched in silence, which was worse than any comment.
It was Monica who finally stated the obvious, gasping for breath as she undid the straps on the last load. “You know this is impossible, right? There’s no way to cross the ocean carrying half a city on your back.”
Scathach didn’t answer. Her gaze roamed the courtyard, taking in every detail: the stack of barrels, the strong smell of wet leather, the heavy wings of the dragons, the sound of crates being dragged across the ground.
Ouroboros approached, his voice ever calm but sharp. “Even if we could take flight, we wouldn’t last a week. The weight would kill us before hunger or thirst set in.”
Scathach stood still for a few seconds. Then she took a deep breath… and exploded.
“DAMN!” the scream echoed through the courtyard, stopping everyone. She kicked one of the nearest crates, which slid a few feet and toppled over, scattering supplies across the floor. “Eight days wasted to realize we’re trying to do something even a tavern idiot wouldn’t attempt!”
Samira, sitting on a barrel, raised an eyebrow. “You just called yourself an idiot.”
“I KNOW!” Scathach replied, turning to her with a furious glare. “And you know what’s worse? I knew from the start it was a stupid idea!”
The silence that followed was almost painful. Scarlet, leaning back a few feet away, crossed her arms and gave a humorless smile.
“I never thought I’d see you so…” she searched for the right word, but ended up letting out a short, disbelieving laugh, “…idiot.”
Scathach turned to her as if to respond, but the weight of the comment stopped her. Scarlet had always been the most sincere of the group, the only one capable of speaking to her as if she weren’t in front of a near-legendary figure.
Scarlet continued: “From the beginning, your plan was to use us as transport in the middle of the end of the world. To cross an ocean no one had mapped, carrying tons of supplies, as if we were winged caravans. You didn’t consider how long we could fly before crashing into the sea. You didn’t consider the winds. You didn’t consider…” she sighed wearily, “…anything other than your haste.”
Scathach clenched her fists, taking a deep breath. It was rare to see her like this: without a sharp retort, without a ready-made argument. Just the weight of the realization.
“So that’s it?” Strax broke the silence, her voice low but charged with meaning. “Are you going to give up?”
Scathach looked at him, then at the courtyard, then at every face watching her. The air was heavy, and not just from the stifling heat.
She took a deep breath and said, almost in a whisper, “Yes.”
The impact of the word was immediate. Some of the wives exchanged surprised glances. Cassandra took a half-step forward, as if in disbelief. Beatrice opened her mouth, then closed it again. Even Tiamat arched an eyebrow, though she remained silent.
Scarlet shook her head. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this.
“I said the plan was impossible,” Scathach corrected, lifting her chin. “I didn’t say the mission was over.”
Their eyes narrowed.
Samira leaned forward, resting her elbow on her knee. “So… what’s the alternative?”
Scathach closed her eyes for a moment, as if she were reorganizing everything in her mind. When she opened them, her gaze had regained some of its former brightness.
“The alternative… is to go anyway. Without half this crap.”
Monica laughed dryly. “So we’re just going to cross the ocean with only the clothes on our backs?”
“Not exactly,” Scathach said. “We’ll only take what we can carry without compromising our flight. Essential weapons. Runes. Supplies for a few days. The rest… we’ll find along the way, or on the mainland.”
“And if we find nothing?” Cassandra questioned.
“Then we’ll die trying,” Scathach replied, and there was a strange hint of satisfaction in the sentence.
Ouroboros tilted his head, considering. “It’s risky to the point of madness… but the chance of getting there alive is greater than trying to carry all that weight.”
Tiamat, who had remained distant until then, finally spoke. “If we go, we should fly in tight formation. Taking breaks in the air, using thermals. It will be faster and less tiring.”
Kali snorted, but there was something like approval in her tone. “Then we’ll cross an ocean with our hearts and our spirits. I love the subtlety of this group.”
Scarlet let out a short laugh. “At least now it’s a plan that makes sense… in our standard sense.”
Scathach took another deep breath and looked at everyone. “I want everyone ready in three days. No excuses. No delays. Anyone who isn’t ready stays.”
There was a brief silence, and then Samira stood, twirling the hilt of her sword with a smile. “Then bring on the worst continent in the world.”
The group began to disperse, each returning to their tasks—now with a clearer purpose. The courtyard was emptied of its enormous piles of supplies; crates were opened, barrels discarded, ropes cut. The sound that had once been of dragging weights was now that of sharpening steel, of wings beating the air to train their endurance, of voices shouting shorter, more direct orders.
As everyone prepared, Scarlet passed Scathach and stopped, staring at her. “You’re still an idiot for even thinking of that plan.”
Scathach arched an eyebrow. “And you’re still insufferable for never missing a chance to say it.”
Scarlet smiled. “That’s why we’re friends.”