Ainz Ooal Gown: Noble Knight.

Chapter 104 The Real Lolita Complex

Notice that Sebastian was dressed in an elegant outfit.

The tavern owner, thinking of the newly arrived troops from the Aindora territory, immediately turned his gaze to them with eager anticipation.

"Esteemed guest, you must be Lord Aindora's attendant?" he said, quickly wiping the bar with a cloth. "Please, have a seat. What would you like to drink?"

Sebastian sat down at the bar, not denying the owner's statement, and ordered a glass of ale, a local favorite.

The drinks were served quickly. Sebastian picked up his glass, took a small sip, and calmly scanned the interior of the tavern.

Besides him and the owner, there was only one other drunkard sitting in the corner dozing off, snoring evenly, clearly having been asleep for a long time.

"Boss," Sebastian put down his glass, "I have something to ask you."

The shopkeeper paused slightly while wiping the cups, then smiled even more attentively: "Guests, feel free to ask. I've lived in this town for decades, and I know a little about everything, big and small."

3

"About dragons."

Sebastian's voice wasn't loud, but it completely stopped the boss from wiping the cups.

"dragon?"

The boss blinked, his expression shifting between confusion and amusement.

But he quickly suppressed the urge to laugh, put the glass on the bar, and scratched his bald head.

"The guest wants to inquire about—dragons?"

"Yes." Sebastian looked directly into the boss's eyes. "I've heard that this country was founded by a dragon, so there must be quite a few legends about dragons."

"There are legends, though." The boss wiped his hands with a rag, as if recalling something from a very distant past. "When I was a child, I heard from the elders that this country was founded by a powerful dragon hundreds of years ago."

"That dragon was incredibly powerful; a single roar could shatter a mountain. Later, the dragon passed the throne to its human descendants, and I've heard that Her Majesty the Queen still has dragon blood in her veins."

Sebastian frowned slightly. Was the power of that roar comparable to a super-tier magic? Although it was valuable information, it was still far too powerful.

"Then—" he continued, "besides these legends, what else? For example, has anyone actually seen a dragon?"

"Saw it with your own eyes?" The boss thought for a long time, then shook his head. "No, I haven't. Even if the Dragon Kingdom had dragons, that was hundreds of years ago. I've lived most of my life and I've never even seen a dragon scale."

Sebastian was silent for a moment.

"Thank you." He stood up, took two copper coins from his pocket, and placed them on the bar. "The wine is good."

Sebastian stood at the tavern door, preparing to push it open and leave.

"Hey, please wait a moment, sir."

The boss's voice came from behind, carrying the mercenary tone common among businessmen.

Sebastian turned around, and the boss had already put down the rag in his hand and walked around from behind the bar.

A few strands of gray hair on his bald head swayed gently in the dim light as he walked. He reached the door, glanced outside, and saw that dusk was falling and there was nothing unusual.

Then he lowered his voice and leaned closer to Sebastian.

"Guest," the proprietor's eyes gleamed with a shrewd light in the dim light, "I've certainly never seen a dragon in person. But—"

He deliberately dragged out the sentence, keeping everyone in suspense.

Sebastian cooperated without urging him.

The shop owner coughed lightly, lowering his voice even further: "I do have one of those items here. Are you interested, sir?"

A serious glint flashed in Sebastian's eyes, and his tone became more solemn: "Please show it to me."

The boss chuckled, turned around, and quickly walked back to the back of the bar.

He pushed open the wooden door leading to the inner room. The hinges made a dry, rattling sound, and the figure disappeared into the shadows behind the door. Then there was a rustling sound of something being rummaged through.

Several bottles and jars collided together, making a clinking sound.

A short while later, the boss came out from the inner room.

He carefully placed a long, rectangular wooden box on the bar and pushed it in front of Sebastian.

The box was unpainted, the wood grain was exposed, and the edges were polished smooth and shiny, clearly indicating that it had been frequently handled and rubbed.

"This is it." The shopkeeper patted the box. "It took me a lot of effort to get it."

Sebastian opened the box; inside lay a letter.

The edges of the envelope were slightly yellowed, but it was well preserved.

There was still a red wax mark at the seal, but the pattern on it was already somewhat blurry and could only be vaguely discerned.

"This is—" Sebastian raised his head, his gaze falling on the boss's face.

"A personal letter from Her Majesty the Queen, imbued with the blood of a great dragon." The boss puffed out his round belly, his tone full of pride, as if he had written the letter himself. "Genuine."

"How much?" Sebastian asked, putting the envelope back into the box.

"Three gold coins," the shopkeeper said, holding up three fingers.

A craftsman in town earns about ten copper coins a day, while three gold coins are enough for an ordinary person to live on without wasting money for a year.

Sebastian, without hesitation, took out three gold coins from his pocket and placed them on the bar.

The gold coins gleamed heavily under the light, and the shopkeeper's eyes lit up instantly. He stretched out his short, stubby fingers, picked up the gold coins one by one, and then flicked them near his ear. Only after hearing the crisp buzzing sound did he grin with satisfaction.

"The customer is such a straightforward person!"

Sebastian reopened the box, pulled the letter out of the envelope, and unfolded it.

The handwriting on the paper was crooked and uneven, with letters of varying sizes, some pointing upwards and others downwards, arranged together like a fence bent by a gust of wind.

Sebastian carefully read the text, which contained words of encouragement for the warriors of the Dragon Kingdom.

"To my valiant warriors: You are all heroes of the Dragon Kingdom. I swear in the name of the dragon's blood that as long as you are not afraid, I will not be afraid either. Orcs are nothing to fear; though I am small, I am not afraid of them."

One Drodilon Auriclus.

These words are less a morale-boosting statement and more a childish boasting, as if trying to appear taller by standing on tiptoe.

There was no information about dragons in it.

Sebastian folded the letter again, preparing to put it back in the box.

"How is it? Cute, right?"

The boss's voice suddenly came from the side.

Sebastian looked up and found that his boss was very close, his wrinkled face almost touching the letter, his eyes gleaming with a fanaticism that Sebastian couldn't understand.

"Look at this handwriting," the shopkeeper said, extending his short, stubby finger to trace the crooked letters an inch from the paper. "It's clearly the work of a child who just learned to write, writing with great effort. Her Majesty the Queen, with such a petite frame, sitting at her desk, holding the pen, writing these words stroke by stroke—just thinking about it makes one feel—"

His voice carried an indescribable sense of satisfaction.

Sebastian frowned slightly. Before he could respond, he saw the boss turn around and carefully take out another letter from a drawer under the bar.

The letter looked almost exactly the same as the one in the box.

The boss didn't open it; instead, he held the letter to his nose, took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and his face showed an expression of being immersed in something wonderful.

"There's also a faint scent of youthful vitality." The boss sighed, his tone full of emotion.

Sebastian watched all this, and a rare, obvious emotional fluctuation appeared on his wrinkled face.

His lips twitched slightly, and a vein throbbed faintly on his forehead.

The boss had taken his fill of the drug and opened his eyes to find Sebastian staring straight at him.

He immediately hid the letter behind his back, leaned back slightly, and looked wary.

"This one won't do." The shopkeeper's voice was a bit firmer than before, with obvious wariness. "This is my personal selection."

Looking at his boss's possessive face, Sebastian felt he had probably been attacked by some kind of powerful mental magic.

In the end, Sebastian simply nodded slightly, closed the box containing the letter, and held it in his hand.

"—Farewell." Sebastian's voice was a tone lower than usual as he turned, pushed open the tavern door, and fled as if running away.

As the sun gradually set, scattered lights began to illuminate the town.

In the distance came the soft clatter of cavalry hooves on patrol, and the faint sounds of laughter from the camp.

The evening breeze blew in from the end of the street, carrying the scents of earth and hay, which finally diluted the smell of ale that clung to our clothes in the pub.

Sebastian stood at the tavern entrance, letting out the pent-up frustration in his chest.

The information about dragons here is only slightly more specific than the kingdom's legends. Although it is a country that is inextricably linked to dragons, there seems to be no trace of dragons elsewhere.

"Perhaps things will be better in the capital. After all, that's where the royal family resides; there should be more detailed records or more reliable sources of information there," Sebastian comforted himself.

After leaving the tavern, Sebastian did not immediately return to his tent; he planned to visit several more shops to gather intelligence.

But the image of the tavern owner holding the Queen's handwritten letter and taking a deep breath remained in his mind, like a shadow he couldn't shake off.

"The owner of that shop must be acting strangely," Sebastian thought to himself.

The town was quiet, with only the occasional neighing of horses coming from the direction of the distant camp.

Just then, a laborious shout came from ahead.

Sebastian looked over.

At the corner of the dirt road, a horse-drawn cart loaded with building stones and timber was stuck in a rather large mud pit.

The wheels were stuck deep, almost a third of them submerged in the mud. The old horse pulling the cart had its head down and its four legs taut, but no matter how hard it tried, the cart wouldn't budge.

An old man was standing beside the carriage, pushing the shaft with both hands. His thin shoulders pressed against the rough wood, and fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

His clothes were soaked with sweat, clinging to his back and outlining his thin, bony frame.

"Hey—ha!"

The old man's shouts were hoarse, typical of the elderly. With each shout, his knees sank a little deeper, but the carriage only swayed slightly, the wheels making a gurgling sound in the mud before sinking back into place.

Just then, a young man rushed over from the side.

The young man wore mithril-plated armor, standard for the Aindora territory, the plates gleaming a dull silver-gray in the setting sun.

His short, golden hair was damp with sweat, with a few strands sticking to his forehead.

Without the slightest hesitation, he braced his shoulder against the other side of the carriage, gripped the edge of the carriage floor with both hands, and lifted it upwards with all his might.

He gritted his teeth, his lips pressed into a thin line, and his cheeks flushed red from the effort.

The shoulders of the armor were smeared with mud and wood debris, but he paid no heed.

"Sir, you can go ahead. Leave this to me." The young man's voice was clear and bright, carrying the indomitable spirit unique to youth.

But the old man shook his head and refused, saying that this was his own business and he had no right to hand it all over to someone else.

The two of them immediately put their strength into it, but they still failed.

The wheels slipped in the mud and sank back in, splashing mud and water onto the young man's breastplate.

"Huff—huff—" The boy panted heavily, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, but also smearing the mud on his face. He straightened up, looking at the stubborn mud puddle, a hint of resentment flashing in his azure eyes.

Sebastian walked over.

"Do you need any help?"

As soon as he spoke, the old man and the young man turned their heads at the same time.

The young man saw Sebastian in his impeccably tailored black tuxedo and immediately recognized him, his eyes lighting up. But then, a look of hesitation crossed his face.

"You are Lord Rune's guest, how could we trouble you with such menial work—"

As he spoke, he subconsciously turned to the side, trying to hide his muddy and disheveled appearance.

Sebastian did not answer and walked straight to the carriage.

He stood at the back of the carriage, bracing one hand against the timber. The carriage was fully loaded with building stone and timber, weighing at least a thousand kilograms. Combined with the suction of the mud pit, it was no wonder that even two people working together couldn't push it.

Sebastian gave a slight push forward with one hand.

The carriage began to move smoothly.

The wheels slowly rose from the mud pit, kicking up a trail of sticky mud, before landing steadily on the dry road beside them.

The whole process was as easy as moving a piece of paper.

The old man's cloudy old eyes were wide open, and his mouth was slightly open, revealing a few chipped teeth.

"This—I'm not seeing things, am I? Is this something a human can do?"

The young man was also stunned. His azure eyes sparkled with surprise and admiration.

"In an instant—you're truly amazing, Lord Sebastian!"

Even the old horse in front stared at Sebastian in astonishment, its mouth agape in disbelief.

Sebastian turned his head and glanced at the young man.

The young man's face was covered in mud and his hair was messy, but his eyes were surprisingly bright.

The old man quickly stepped forward and nodded repeatedly to Sebastian in thanks.

"Thank you so much for your help, sir. If it weren't for you, I'm afraid my materials would have been delayed until dark."

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