William’s awkwardly delivered bombshell, “And… it wants to come with us,” detonated in the tense silence of the ravine. He braced himself as four pairs of eyes swivelled between him and the small, white creature pressed against his leg. Input: High-impact, low-probability data point delivered. Awaiting stakeholder feedback. Expecting responses ranging from 'System Error' to 'User Requires Immediate Decommissioning'.

  The silence stretched, thick with disbelief and the faint murmur of the distant river. Roland recovered first, his commander's instinct trying to impose order on the utterly unexpected. His gaze, sharp and sceptical, flickered from William’s earnest, slightly flushed face to the dragonet, which flattened itself almost imperceptibly at the intensity of his stare.

  “A talking dragon?” Roland repeated, voice tight, incredulous. “Communicating telepathically? Exclusively with you?” He took a deliberate step closer, assessing the creature not as myth, but as an unscheduled, high-risk variable. “It appears harmless,” he conceded gruffly, noting its size, the lack of overt aggression. The dragonet watched his approach warily, emitting a faint tremor William felt against his leg, along with a thought like cold glass < Large… loud intention… danger? > Roland shook his head. “But appearances deceive. Dragons are power, inherently. Even juveniles are dangerously unpredictable. We carry royalty, William, on a mission where stealth is paramount. We cannot afford liabilities. We cannot adopt… strays.” The final word was dismissive, pragmatic.

  “He's hardly a stray domestic animal, Sir Roland!” Julia countered immediately, her voice hushed but ringing with passionate conviction. She moved forward, slower than Roland, her gaze filled with scientific wonder, not fear. “A creature capable of sophisticated telepathy, however young? That speaks to an intelligence, a magical potential far beyond any mere beast!” The dragonet observed her approach, blue eyes wide, head cocked with apparent curiosity. < Warmth… strange sounds… not loud… safe? > Julia stopped a respectful distance away, her hand hovering as if longing to touch the shimmering scales but restraining herself. “The oldest texts barely touch upon true dragons! Their connection to primal mana, their longevity… this creature could represent knowledge lost for millennia!”

  “Precisely!” Caspian practically vibrated, notebook already open, nearly stumbling over a root as he bypassed Roland to get a closer look. “An unprecedented opportunity! Living primary source material!” He beamed, oblivious to the dragonet flicking its tail nervously at his sudden proximity and buzzing energy. “William! Does it exhibit standard draconic markers? Thermoregulation? Any observable elemental affinity? That localized cold earlier, was that residual from its mother's passing, or its own latent cryo-kinetic field?!” He brandished his charcoal stick. “Ask it about the elves from Lumenar and whether it knows anything about them. Ask it…”

  “Caspian,” Roland interrupted curtly, cutting off the stream of academic fervour. “Threat assessment first. Research later.” He turned his attention back to Jett, who had completed a silent, cautious circle around the group and the dragonet, his eyes missing nothing. The dragonet tracked Jett with undisguised wariness, pressing harder against William. < Moves like smoke… like shadow… like predator… >

  “Well, Scout?” Roland demanded. “Your assessment?”

  Jett stopped, his gaze lingering on the dragonet's slightly gaunt frame, the way its scales didn't quite hide the ribs beneath, the almost imperceptible tremor in its delicate wings. “Malnourished,” he stated flatly, confirming William’s earlier assessment. “And weak. Favouring the left foreleg slightly, likely injured before finding the boar.” His sharp eyes met Roland’s. “Wouldn't last long alone. Easy prey.”

  He paused, letting the practical assessment land before adding the strategic depth charge, his voice dropping low, serious. “But more than that, Sir. Think. Virrerk’s army moving south through here. Bypassing Oakenfall. Why? We assumed Lumenar. But maybe…” His gaze drifted to the small white creature. “…maybe the target isn't just elven artifacts. Necromancers covet powerful reagents. Dragon parts, blood, scales, heart, are legendary, almost mythical in their potency. What if Neverus isn't just seeking Lumenar's knowledge, but also raw, ancient power believed lost in these woods? What if he seeks a dragon hoard, a nesting site… or even a specific survivor?”

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  The implication hung, heavy and cold as the earlier frost. Roland went utterly still, processing. Julia gasped softly, horrified. Caspian’s academic excitement instantly vanished, replaced by wide-eyed understanding of the potential atrocity.

  Recalculating primary threat vectors, William’s mind raced, EMMA processing Jett’s hypothesis against known data. Input: Jett Hypothesis [Dragonet = Primary/Secondary Enemy Objective]. Cross-reference: Neverus Profile (Power Acquisition Motive), Necromantic Lore (Draconic Reagents = High Value), Goblin Army Deployment (Anomalous Southern Vector, Diversionary Tactics Confirmed). Analysis: Jett’s hypothesis provides logical, high-probability explanation for observed enemy strategy. Risk assessment update: Leaving dragonet significantly increases probability of critical asset falling into enemy control. William compared it to realizing the obscure shell company discussed in merger talks actually held the target firm's most valuable, unsecured IP. The entire strategic landscape shifted.

  “That's... conjecture, Scout,” Roland said, though his voice lacked conviction, clearly disturbed by how neatly Jett's theory fit the facts. “Based on what? We act on verified intel!”

  “Based on the pattern, Sir,” Jett countered quietly but firmly. “The army's vector. The diversions. The unnatural cold. This creature appearing now. It suggests a hidden objective. Neverus seeks power, dragons are power.”

  Julia nodded grimly. “He's right, Roland. Necromantic texts do mention rituals requiring draconic life force. Considered impossible due to scarcity, but if Neverus believed one could be found...”

  “Exactly!” Caspian interjected, notebook momentarily forgotten again, his eyes gleaming with recalled lore despite the tense atmosphere. “The potential power is immense, theoretically! But the scale... consider the Saga of Frostfang Gorge!” He seemed to swell with academic fervour. “Ancient chronicles, likely embellished but rooted in geological evidence, speak of Skaldrathir the Glacial Maw, an elder ice dragon, mind you, colossal, battling the subterranean Magma Titan Bor'gorak! For three days and nights, the earth shook! Mountainsides reportedly sloughed off like melting snow! When Skaldrathir finally encased the Titan in abyssal ice,” he gestured dramatically, nearly losing his balance, “the resulting energy discharge supposedly shattered the gorge itself and vaporized a neighbouring peak!”

  He stopped, breathing heavily, then gestured emphatically towards the small white creature shivering slightly against William's leg. “But that was Skaldrathir! A cataclysmic force of nature, matured over millennia! This,” he lowered his voice, adopting a reassuring, scholarly tone, “is a hatchling. Look at it! Barely larger than my satchel! While its existence is academically astounding, suggesting this infant holds the kind of apocalyptic power Neverus would divert his main army for now, or could be weaponized in the short term? History and draconic developmental lore suggest power takes centuries to truly manifest!” He looked earnestly at Roland. “Legends often inflate the scale for dramatic effect, Sir. The immediate strategic risk feels... potentially overstated for this specific specimen.”

  Roland grunted, unconvinced by the academic argument but acknowledging the point about the dragonet's apparent current weakness. Julia looked thoughtful, perhaps considering Caspian's point about maturation timelines versus the potential value of even young dragon components. Jett remained impassive, his assessment focused on Neverus's potential belief and actions, not necessarily the dragonet's current power level.

  The dragonet, sensing the intense focus, the fear, the calculation directed towards it, pressed itself almost painfully against William's leg. < Danger… Mother fought Loud Ones… they search… seek… > The thought was fragmented, laced with remembered terror and infant confusion. William quickly projected a calming thought, while simultaneously trying a probe: < Loud Ones = Goblins? Search for… you? > The response was a wave of pure fear and a jumbled image of green skin and sharp metal. < Seek… nest… power… HURT! > Confirmation, perhaps, but terrifyingly vague.

  The weight of the decision pressed down. This wasn't just a lost hatchling. It was a potential strategic linchpin, a nexus of immense power sought by their enemy, and utterly vulnerable. Leaving it was unthinkable from both a strategic and ethical standpoint. Taking it… meant painting an even larger target on their backs, encumbering their already perilous mission with a fragile, demanding charge whose very presence might attract the enemy they sought to evade.

  Roland stared at the small creature trembling against William’s leg, then at the grim faces of his team, finally locking eyes with William. The question remained unspoken but hung heavy. What now?