Leon blinked and nodded, "Makes sense. Then should I also stop working out, let my beer belly grow, wear a white tank top every day, smoke cheap cigarettes, and squat in the bathroom with a newspaper for half an hour?"
"You can describe a greasy middle-aged human man in such detail—do you have some personal experience?"
"I'm only twenty-three. No matter how you look at it, I don't seem like a man who's gone through a midlife crisis, right?"
"Heh… I advise you to just talk nonsense. As my captive, you have an obligation to maintain a good physique and physical condition."
"Since when do captives have such obligations?"
"Well, other captives have all been executed. Why do you think I haven't executed you yet?"
"Because you can't bear to."
"No, it's because I want you to be my captive for life, never even thinking of escape."
"How did we go from talking about clothing to a lifelong captivity conversation?"
After a few exchanges, the couple tacitly fell silent, quietly gazing at each other.
Black and silver eyes locked for a long time, and finally, the two simultaneously burst into laughter.
Their family might be fake, an illusion, but the unique tacit understanding and harmony between husband and wife were real.
Though they believed it was merely the mutual understanding that long-time arch-enemies should have.
But was it truly enmity, or was it fate? Who could say for sure?
.
.
.
Rossweise carefully applied exquisite makeup and put on a beautiful dress. Besides what she had just told Leon—wanting a style change after giving birth to their second child—there was also today's banquet.
A week had passed since they defeated Constantine. The maids and the guards had almost fully recovered. According to dragon traditions, they must hold a memorial for their fallen kin after each war.
Of course, while mourning fallen comrades, they would also celebrate this hard-earned victory.
"You Silver Dragons rarely hold such banquets. It feels a bit dull, unlike other dragon clans that go all out celebrating at every festival."
Leon said, "I remember years ago, our unit received a night raid order. When we charged in, that dragon clan was still throwing a party to celebrate the '100th Day Anniversary of Repelling the Empire's Dragon-Slaying Army.'"
Rossweise chuckled, "Yeah, we Silver Dragons don't care for those flashy things. The last time we held such a large banquet was three years ago."
Leon raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Three years ago? What occasion was that?"
Rossweise squinted with a smile, "To commemorate the day we defeated the Empire's strongest dragon slayer, Leon Casmodeous, and successfully captured him."
"..."
With a smile on her lips, Rossweise slowly walked forward and patted Leon's shoulder.
"You're really lucky, hubby. You've been the main character in the last two major Silver Dragon banquets. That's quite an explosive feat across the entire dragon race."
Leon swatted her hand away irritably, grabbed his coat from the hanger, and strode toward the door.
Rossweise called after his retreating back, "Where are you going?"
"To take care of the kids!"
"Don't stay out too late; we still have a banquet tonight, dear Prince~"
BANG!
Her answer was a resentful door slam.
Rossweise crossed her arms, staring at the now-empty hallway, where the sound of footsteps still echoed.
Recalling how that bastard had just puffed up in anger—
Like a pufferfish that had swallowed a bomb.
She smiled, and out of nowhere, the word "cute" popped into her mind.
The next second, the Queen's smile froze.
'Cute?'
'I-I thought Leon was cute?'
'No, no, no. Impossible.'
'The "cute" I meant was… was a derogatory term!'
'Yes, that's right. In the dragon race, "cute" is an insult.'
'So, thinking Leon is cute wasn't wrong at all.'
After finding a perfect excuse for her bizarre thoughts, Rossweise let out a sigh of relief.
She patted her face, adjusted her mood, and in a second, regained her usual aloof and dignified queenly demeanor.
After choosing an outer layer for her dress and putting on a few small accessories only worn on formal occasions, she finished preparing and stepped out of her room.
Returning to work just seven days after giving birth—giving the maids a small shock at her workaholism.
.
.
.
At 8 PM, the banquet began on time.
The almost fully recovered head maid, Anna, was in charge of overseeing the event's schedule.
Honestly, she hadn't expected Her Majesty to resume managing the Silver Dragon Sanctuary's daily affairs just a week after childbirth.
She asked why Her Majesty wouldn't rest a little longer. Though she was injured, she could still handle things on behalf of the Queen.
Rossweise said that though they had won, they had lost kin, and some soldiers were still in low spirits. As the Queen of the Silver Dragons, she had an obligation to uplift her people and get them back on track.
Anna understood and asked no further.
Her Majesty was still the same—dedicated and diligent. Decades on the throne, yet her passion and commitment remained as strong as ever.
The first thing at the banquet was mourning the Silver Dragon warriors who had died in the battle.
The dragon race had a very ceremonial way of honoring their dead.
They would write the names of the fallen on talisman-like charms, place them into specially made 'Spirit Lanterns,' and set them alight.
As the fire within the lanterns burned, the structures would expand and slowly ascend into the sky before the flames extinguished at a certain height—ensuring no wildfires were caused.
Releasing the Spirit Lanterns symbolized that the fallen souls would forever soar freely in the heavens.
That night, the Silver Dragons released 234 Spirit Lanterns—signifying 234 warriors lost in the battle against Constantine.
Compared to humanity's 'swarm tactics' and 'gacha-style army drafts,' the dragon race focused on quality over quantity. Losing 234 warriors was not a small number.
By the bonfire, the lanterns illuminated the night sky.
Some Silver Dragons wept quietly, wiping their tears in silence, unwilling to spread their grief.
Some called out the names of old friends and comrades, telling them to live freely in the other world.
When the emotions settled, Rossweise stepped onto the platform to deliver her speech.
Her words were predictable—something like "don't lose heart; we have a bright future" or "carry on their will and march forward."
However, she wasn't very good at these kinds of motivational speeches, and standing on stage in front of so many dragons always brought up some rather embarrassing social death memories for her.
So, after starting things off, she let Anna take the stage to continue the speech in her place.
Anna was already quite familiar with such tasks.
After the speech, people either chatted or mourned as they saw fit.
The banquet proceeded step by step as planned.
Leon had no interest in the Silver Dragons' victory banquet. He sat the entire time on the steps at the entrance of the temple, holding his little daughter, silently watching them light lamps, give speeches, laugh, or cry.
Just now, Shirley had come to find him, asking if His Highness the Prince would like to go up and say a few words. After all, it was thanks in no small part to him that they managed to defeat Constantine this time—he was a great hero of the Silver Dragon clan.
Every word was praise for Leon, but the more he listened, the more awkward he felt.
'I mean, I'm a human hero. How did I end up living with the Silver Dragons for three years and suddenly become their Silver Dragon hero?', Leon complained inwardly but still answered honestly, saying he wasn't good at giving speeches, "You guys go ahead. I'll just take the little princess home to sleep later."
Shirley nodded without insisting.
However, in her heart, she couldn't help but marvel. No wonder he and Her Majesty the Queen were a couple—neither of them were good at speeches, and both preferred to stay low-key.
'Ah, so this is the mindset of the strong? Worth learning!'
After Shirley left, Leon remained seated there.
His third little one was still full of energy, not sleepy at all. From time to time, she would grab his collar and punch his chin with her tiny pink fist.
Suddenly, she landed a hit that actually hurt Leon.
Lowering his head, he gently held his daughter's little fist, "Wow, baby, you're amazing. Even Constantine couldn't make Daddy feel pain, but you did. You're way stronger than Constantine!"
"Ah waa ah waa~~ mm~~"
Baby talk—completely incomprehensible.
Leon pinched the little one's nose, then lifted his head again to watch the Silver Dragons' banquet.
Banquets, after moments of mourning, inevitably led to drinking.
Rossweisse might not be good at speeches, but she was quite good at drinking.
Normally, human women aren't allowed to drink alcohol for several months postpartum, as it affects the nutrients in breast milk.
But when Leon read Dragon-related pregnancy literature before, he learned that postpartum female dragons don't secrete milk the way human women do. This means that newborn dragonlings need to drink other kinds of milk to supplement their nutrition.
At first, he was a little worried—without breast milk, would his little one's nutrition be sufficient?
But then, seeing how lively Noah and Luna were, Leon dismissed his concerns.
So Rossweisse drinking alcohol just seven days after childbirth wouldn't affect her or their daughter's health.
Leon watched as she drank with the maids near the bonfire. The firelight reflected her smiling face, and she accepted every toast from the maids.
It looked like a relaxed and carefree scene.
But after spending so much time together, Leon understood Rossweisse better than before.
He was certain that the smile and ease she showed now were deliberate, she was actually... really exhausted.
"This is part of your job too, huh... stupid dragon," Leon lowered his head and pinched his little daughter's chubby cheeks, "Don't learn from Mommy, okay? Make sure to balance work and rest. If you turn into a workaholic, Daddy will be heartbroken~"
———
Alcohol is a truly magical thing.
It can dilute sorrow and amplify joy.
No wonder it's always used to liven up the atmosphere at celebrations.
Unfortunately, Leon wasn't good at drinking.
He could kill a dragon king several times his size with his bare hands, but a single glass of red wine could knock him out.
Beer was manageable... barely.
After several rounds of drinking, the Silver Dragons either threw their grief aside entirely or vented it without reservation before letting it go.
In any case, just as Rossweisse had hoped, morale was gradually returning to normal.
Leon kept his head down, playing with his little daughter.
Father and daughter were engaged in a one-sided, completely ineffective conversation.
"Sweetie, what do you want to be called?"
"Uwah... aba aba?"
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