novelraw Chapter 8: The Map
Chapter 8: The Map
Night had fallen. The “research” was over.
Raphaëlle limped back to the room, filled with hate. Her right leg and left arm were wrapped in bandages. The pain was fierce, stabbing into the bone every time she moved.
Unable to move further, she lay quietly on her bedding for a long while before the others returned.
They’d been in cages for so long, with almost no chance to roam outside. Even as they walked in, a reluctant sparkle still lingered in their eyes. But that faded quickly when they saw Raphaëlle’s condition. Larr knelt beside her, carefully dragging her claws and wearing an expression full of worry.
“Lady Raphaëlle… your wounds…”
They all knew about the bullets she’d taken, and how the pain worsened at night.
“I’m fine…”
Raphaëlle barely opened her eyes. Her eyelids remained mostly closed, so her vision was still blurry.
But Larr wasn’t convinced. She lowered her head and gave a strong sniff at the bandages—then pinched her nose and cried out:
“It stinks… That human definitely poisoned you! I’m sure! My mom used this same kind of poison once—I saw her pigs scream in agony!” Cachil smacked the back of her head.
“Don’t talk nonsense. Your mom raised Lulu Pigs. Why would she poison them? Move aside…”
She sniffed the wound too, then looked up at Fassil and Mir and said:
“It’s blueflower herb. A medicine used for bleeding and healing… Lady Raphaëlle, he treated your wounds. That fat guy from before probably never treated them properly—that’s why they always hurt at night…”
“I didn’t ask him to treat me!”
Raphaëlle snapped, cutting her off and glaring at Cachil. But seeing her companions’ concerned expressions, she pursed her lips and closed her eyes again.
She knew full well the human had helped her—but she didn’t want to admit it. It was easier to believe he was mocking her, giving her false hope so her attempt to assassinate him would be more satisfying.
“…Either way, what matters now is that Raphaëlle gets some rest. Larr, stop squirming. Sleep over here. If your tail flails again and hits her wound, it won’t be good.”
Mir smiled and changed the subject smoothly. She looked to Larr and took over Raphaëlle’s role in organizing their sleep.
“Why do you always say my tail flails? It doesn’t!”
“You’re asleep—how would you know?”
Fassil smirked and flicked Larr’s tail before teasing:
“Raphaëlle always hugs her tail when she sleeps. I’m just copying her. I’ll hold mine still—promise.”
Larr quickly lay down next to Raphaëlle, mimicking her by hugging her blue tail. But her tail wasn’t as long, so it was awkward to hold—and it didn’t take long before the position became uncomfortable. She pouted when she realized Raphaëlle wouldn’t be hugging her tonight.
Mir, ever gentle, gathered her into her arms and tucked her into the bedding.
“Alright, alright. We get it. Your tail just doesn’t behave sometimes... But at least your heart’s in the right place.”
“You’re spoiling her, Mir. Her mom would say you’re making her worse.”
“My mom would not say that!”
Cachil lay down and muttered. She and Fassil were a unit—and didn’t have much patience for Larr’s mischief.
The room remained lit. Overhead, the same glowing device Raphaëlle had seen in Fischer’s room shone brightly. They didn’t know how to turn it off. They assumed humans simply slept with lights on.
Raphaëlle felt her exhaustion setting in. She closed her eyes. As her breath slowed, the pain in her wounds gradually faded into a cold, heavy numbness. Sleep crept in.
Just before drifting off, she wondered—
When was the last time they all chatted like this?
How long had they been prisoners? Months? Half a year? Longer?
The thought blurred and faded.
She just wanted… to go home.
“Looks like the pain’s gone.”
The next morning, Fischer summoned Raphaëlle to his room. She found him in a white shirt, sipping cold coffee behind the desk.
When she approached, he clapped his hands and turned on a nearby lamp. Just like the night before, he gently held her right leg. This time, her scales didn’t rise. No more steam.
This human became strangely serious whenever it came to “research.” His eyes scanned her body intently—like he could see every scale, every inch of skin.
The thought made Raphaëlle uncomfortable. She averted her gaze and looked at the decorations in the room instead.
“Mm…”
It was meant to be a reply to his comment. She took her time before responding.
Fischer didn’t seem to mind. After confirming the wound had stopped bleeding, he stood up and said:
“Your healing rate exceeds my expectations. At this pace, you’ll be running full-speed again within a day or two…”
“Dragonkin are born warriors. Our blood burns with fire from birth. This little injury—”
She retracted her leg and stretched it, her voice laced with pride.
Fischer didn’t respond. He simply washed his hands and told her:
“There’s no breakfast today. We’re changing course and heading to Keken City to resupply. We’ll stay there for a day and a night. Since we’ll be off the carriage, that gives you… an opportunity.”
“…”
Raphaëlle had no idea what city he was talking about. In fact, she wasn’t even sure where they were now. The Southern Continent was vast. To someone like her—born on its southern coast—it was impossible to grasp how far she’d been taken.
They had crossed half the continent without even knowing it, dragged toward the Western Continent’s doorstep.
Fischer adjusted his outfit, put on a vest, pocketed his watch, and once again transformed into a proper gentleman. With a flick of his finger, a map unfurled from the wall.
“Here…”
Before her eyes, a world map produced by the Royal Cartography Committee of Saint Nary stretched across the wall. She couldn’t read a single word on it, but the enormous landmasses gave her a rough understanding.
“This is your continent. Your homeland is probably somewhere around here—certainly not past the middle.”
He drew a small circle on the southern tip of the Southern Continent. Just a lazy flick of the hand… and it enclosed the entire history of the dragonkin tribes—dozens of generations.
Raphaëlle used to dream of leaving her tribe and seeing the world. She had run away many times, thinking she’d gone to the ends of the earth.
But in truth, she’d barely scratched the edge of a single corner of this land.
She looked toward the top of the map—there, across the sea, lay another vast continent covered in detailed markings and human writing.
“You… you really came from across the sea…”
They came across the ocean, bringing slaughter and fire, and claimed this once-peaceful land.
“Yes. More accurately, we came by steamship. If you fail to kill me, I might show you what that looks like someday.”
“I don’t want to see it!”
“Mhm. Go wake the others. We’re leaving soon.”
Fischer snapped his fingers. The map rolled up again.
He grabbed his hat and cane, pulled a cigarette from his coat, and walked out of the carriage.
Outside, the morning wind rolled across the dewy plains. He lit his cigarette and peered into the distance through the carriage’s purple magic ward.
On the far mountain ridge, a faint trail of gray smoke curled skyward.
A Western Continent human settlement—likely the very Keken City they were heading for.
With a sharp whistle, he dismissed the magical barrier. The ward shimmered and retracted into the carriage surface. The horses, roused, flicked their tails and trotted to the river to drink.