Chapter 3357 Oxymoron (Part 2)

While Lith walked back to his group, he looked around the room and noticed that many Wyrms followed him with their gaze. Judging from their grimaces, whatever they were saying about him was nothing good.

"Thank you!" Kamila's eyes lit up at the sight of more potatoes than she could eat.

They were crispy on the outside and juicy and tender on the inside. The potatoes were also steaming hot, requiring small bites if one wanted to avoid first-degree burns. "From one to ten, how much do Fire Dragons blame me for Valtak's death?" Lith asked Erghak while passing the salt shaker to Kamila.

"Around two, but only because thick-headed idiots are a plague that even the best families can't completely eradicate." Erghak replied.

"Tell me about it." Lith shook his head, thinking back to Orpal and Trion.

"The other clans, however, I'd say range from five to seven."

"What? Why?" Aran and Leria were so outraged that they dropped their forks.

"Because first your uncle/brother injured Valtak while learning how to use his blue flames and then involved Valtak in the events that led to his death." The Fire Dragon shrugged.

"It's stupid, I know, but when someone you love dies it's easier to look for a scapegoat than accept some things are inevitable. Why do you ask, Lith?"

"I happened to overhear..." Lith threw a meaningful glance at Tista, Solus, and Kamila before nodding at the kids. "An interesting discussion about my family in general and me in particular."

The three women frowned, but quickly resumed smiling when Aran and Leria turned to them, their small faces puzzled by Lith's cryptic words.

"I'm sorry to hear." Erghak gave him an apologetic bow. "For what is worth, you are all honored guests of the Fire Dragon's Brood and will be treated as such.

"Is everything alright here?" A tall, burly man dressed in a midnight-blue suit asked. "More or less, mister..." Aran had no doubt the person in from of him was a Dragon. The man had sky-blue skin, crystal scales covering most of his face, and a long beard that looked sculpted in ice rather than well-groomed facial hair. The wings, red eyes, and vertical-slitted pupils were just the icing on the cake.

"How rude of me, not introducing myself." The Dragon glared at Erghak. "And even ruder of you, Whelp. Aren't you supposed to be their host? Where are your manners?"

"Right here." Erghak tapped the side of his head. "It's just hard to be a good host when a stranger ambushes me and starts addressing my guests without giving me the time to do the proper introductions."

The two Dragons exchanged a short, mutual reproving look before Erghak talked again. "My friends, this is Quashol, Father of All Ice Dragons and patriarch of his Brood. Quashol, you already know Lith and Solus Verhen. These are Tista Verhen, Hekate and candidate Father of Fire, Lady Kamila Verhen, mother of Elysia, Aran Verhen, and Leria Verhen."

"Nice to meet you." The Elder Wyrm gave them a polite bow that was returned in the form of a bow or a curtsy.

"Nice to meet you too, mister Quashol" Aran circled back to the original question. "The food is great but Dragons are less cool than I thought."

"Why do you say that?" Quashol blinked a few times in surprise.

Usually, making a good impression on children was quite easy. Showing a bit of scales and breathing a bit of fire was enough to do the trick.

"Because they blame my brother for what happened to Grandnpa Valtak" Aran replied. "They are mean."

"I see your point, Hatchling" Quashol nodded. "They are not mean, though. They are just hurt and scared. Death is an uncommon thing for Dragons and even we do stupid things when we are scared. Don't you?"

"Yes." Aran sighed. "But that's no excuse. I miss Grandpa Valtak too but I don't blame them for not helping my brother. I mean, if everyone joined him from the start, Grandpa Valtak would have remained home to rest, and he..."

Aran failed to find the strength to finish the phrase but there was no need to. His words struck Quashol like a punch to the gut and his guilty conscience filled in the blanks. Valtak would still be alive."The Elder Wyrm thought and he wasn't the only one.

Aran had spoken with a normal tone but with the lair's acoustics and the Dragons' keen hearing, everyone had heard him. Those who had rushed to the Fringe after Valtak's death felt horrible.

Those who hadn't come at all felt so ashamed that they turned towards the nearest wall, incapable of facing the rest of their brethren.

"Yes, it's no excuse." Quashol clenched his fist while doing his best to prevent the guilt that was devouring him from showing on his face. "Sadly, Dragons aren't as cool as people think. Sometimes we are really dumb and selfish.

"For what is worth, you have my word that no Ice Dragon will talk, or even think ill of your family." He swept the room with his gaze and many of his Brood turned silent or abandoned their previous conversations.

"Thanks, mister." Aran nodded. "You have a nice beard but Grandpa Valtak's was cuter. It was fluffy while yours looks as sharp as a knife."

"Guilty as charged, Hatchling." Quashol patted Aran's head. "Valtak was better than me under many aspects, beard included."

"Isn't an Ice Dragon an oxymoron?" Leria asked. "How do fire and ice mix?"

"Leria!" Aran went pale with shock. "Apologize immediately. I'm sorry for her rudeness."

The young boy started to bow obsessively, pushing Leria's head down to do the same under the perplexed eyes of the adults.

"Apologize for what? What rudeness are you talking about?" Leria was red from anger and embarrassment, afraid to have unwittingly violated one of the etiquette rules Lith had taught them.

"You called him a moron, dummy!" Aran said. "That's not nice to say to someone you just met, even if you don't like him."

Quashol couldn't help himself but burst into laughter despite the somber atmosphere of the funeral and so did several other Dragons, Erghak included.

"Oxymoron, not moron, you dummy!" Leria wanted to cry, half out of relief and half out of second-hand embarrassment due to Aran so casually flaunting his ignorance. "It's not an insult. It's a figure of speech that refers to conflicting terms coexisting.

"Like old news, dumb genius, or in this case, fire and ice!"

"Oh." Aran's eyes narrowed as he thought hard at the word oxymoron and engraved its meaning deep into his memory to avoid future embarrassment. "I stand corrected then.

I'm sorry."

"Don't be, Hatchling." The Elder Wyrm said amid laughter. "It was fun. As for your question, young lady, no, it's not. We can still breathe fire. It's just that an Ice Dragon mainly produces it by absorbing the heat of his surroundings rather than generating it." "I see." Leria nodded. "Your ice is actually the result of the lack of heat, not cold."

"I don't." Aran shrugged.

"I'll explain it to you at home, d- I mean, Aran."

"Nice to meet you again, Solus." Quashol changed the topic to stop the children from bickering again.

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