I Have a Task Log

"See? I told you we should’ve come early, or we wouldn’t have gotten seats," Dorn said smugly, trying to take the credit.

"Morel booked these seats. No one was going to take them."

"You can’t be sure about that. Who knows if the owner here has the same sense of honor as a Dwarf. Just look at this tacky name. I bet you anything this place isn’t run by a Dwarf," Dorn said.

"That really would be terrible," Ale immediately chimed in. "If you had to stand, you probably wouldn’t be able to see the procession at all."

"Slander!" Dorn retorted indignantly, slapping the balcony railing beside him. "I’m much taller than this railing."

The group passed the time, bickering noisily around the table.

As time went on, the surrounding tables filled up one by one.

Young maidens, holding baskets of flowers, appeared at the second-story windows of their homes, opening them to place the petal-filled baskets on the sills.

Their faces flushed, they gazed down the street, terrified they might miss the young general returning in triumph.

After a while longer, the sound of rousing music drifted from the end of the street.

The procession then appeared at the end of the street.

At the head of the procession was a large contingent of the City Guard, armed with long staves.

They held their staves ready, forming a human wall on both sides of the road to prevent any incidents.

A soldier on a tall steed carried the naval banner of Thousand Masts City, advancing slowly. Behind him followed trumpeters and drummers, playing a lively tune.

Following them were several large, sturdy wagons, each pulled by a team of four fine horses. The wagons displayed a collection of absurdly large weapons and tools, such as Frost Giant Javelins as long as Siege Crossbow Arrows and Hemp Ropes of terrifying thickness.

As the wagons advanced, even more valuable trophies came into view.

Among them were enormous Gemstones, precious metals, and fine pelts, but the most eye-catching of all were several impossibly long Mammoth tusks.

"This is... did they wipe out an entire Giant tribe?" Kase said in astonishment, staring at the following wagons. "A tribe that had a dragon!"

"Even Kazad Keep on the World’s Roof would have to deploy an entire Dwarf army to win such a victory," Dorn agreed.

Colin followed their gazes toward the rear of the convoy.

Several Giant heads were impaled on stakes fixed to the wagons, displayed for all to see. The massive, blue-skinned heads still bore expressions of terror from their final moments, looking as if they had just been severed.

Though the trophies showed no signs of decay, their appearance still sent a ripple of retching through the crowd.

At the very end of the trophy display, three wagons advanced slowly, each carrying an enormous White Dragon head.

These three White Dragon heads were much larger than the one Colin had faced, clearly belonging to White Dragons that were past their youth.

Colin counted carefully.

In total, the procession displayed over forty Frost Giant heads and three White Dragon heads.

The memory of the earth-shattering volley of the Frost Giants he’d witnessed at Torrent Bay was still fresh in his mind, and he had faced a living, young White Dragon not long ago.

More than almost anyone else present, Colin understood what these trophies signified.

A Frost Giant warband of this size could easily destroy a small fortress. Even a professional army would be at a serious disadvantage if they encountered them.

What was more terrifying was that this couldn’t even be all of the trophies. The number of enemies on the battlefield must have been far greater than what was displayed here.

Just then, a tidal wave of cheers surged from up ahead.

The crowds on both sides of the road began to press forward, and the City Guards had to struggle to hold them back with their long staves to prevent an incident.

Samurai in blue and white Plate Armor emerged from the end of the street, the scraping of their armor plates distinctly audible above the cheers.

Behind a phalanx of several dozen Knights was the star of the procession—

a man on a white Warhorse.

The Warhorse, clad in platinum-and-gold barding, held its head high, its pale golden mane dancing in the wind.

Its rider wore a suit of gleaming white Full Plate Armor. Magic Runes were inlaid with gold upon each Armor Plate, the edges of which were trimmed with pale gold. A white cape embellished with golden patterns draped over the horse’s back, fluttering in the wind.

The surrounding crowd cheered and tossed colorful flower petals, welcoming the triumphant general.

Colin watched the scene before him, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind.

This was, without a doubt, a genuine triumphal procession, worthy of all the cheers and admiration. And at its center, bearing the weight of this glory, was a brilliant and acclaimed general who lived up to all expectations.

’That was what a hero should look like.’

Laine, on his white horse, drew closer.

He reached out with a leather-gloved hand, caught a flower petal, and rolled it between his fingers. Then, he slowly raised his head, his gaze falling directly on Colin, who was sitting at the edge of the balcony—one of the few people in the crowd not cheering.

Colin, in turn, got a clear look at the man’s face.

In that instant, he felt as if he were looking at a young lion.

He was a vigorous young man, his deep blue eyes brimming with energy and ambition. His chiseled, resolute features made it impossible to imagine his face ever contorted in fear. His thick, long golden hair and the sparse stubble around his chin were like a lion’s mane.

Laine’s blue eyes held no discernible emotion, only a confidence and resolve the likes of which Colin had never witnessed before.

After their eyes met for a brief moment, Laine lowered his head, gently spurred his horse’s flanks, and rode on.

’A true hero should be just like that.’

Colin silently watched the procession below.

Without a doubt, even after his own feat of Dragon Slaying, there was still a considerable gap between him and this resplendent general. And the man was even his contemporary.

Albert’s assessment of Laine rang in his ears.

’Wiped out a Pirate Group on his first campaign... annihilated a Sahuagin tribe at twenty...’

The scene before Colin’s eyes began to blur, replaced by the memory of their own victory parade in the Silver Star Court.

Questions flooded his mind.

’Was the feat of killing a single young White Dragon truly worthy of a parade? If you took away all the political factors, would we still have had that victory parade? Did I deserve that parade the Elves held for us?’

All the questions finally coalesced into one simple, direct thought.

’A triumphal procession... I want a triumphal procession! One that is truly earned, won with my own two hands!’

"Colin?"

Ale’s voice pulled Colin from his reverie.

He snapped back to his senses. His fingertips were still trembling slightly, and his heart was pounding in his chest.

Meeting Ale’s worried gaze, Colin suppressed the turbulent emotions swirling within him.

"That must be the Navy Governor," Dorn said, watching the procession recede. "He seems like a real force to be reckoned with. The last time I got a feeling like this was when I first saw Durkin."

Kase poked at the blood sausage on his plate with a fork. "So that must be the great Chief of the humans. He certainly looks the part."

Colin interjected without thinking, "If you guys were in a triumphal procession, what color Warhorse would you ride?"

"A triumphal procession? What are you talking about?" Dorn said instinctively.

Hearing this, Kase instantly understood what Colin was thinking.

"I’d want a white one. A Big Hoof Treasure as white as snow," he said with a grin. "Now do you get what I was thinking when I heard you’d killed a dragon, Colin my friend?"

"Maybe," Colin said, rolling his shoulders. "Alright, we should get to work now. Morel only told us to watch it through once."

As he stood up, he glanced at the procession that had already passed.

’It might sound arrogant and irrational, and maybe killing a White Dragon really has gone to my head a bit...’ Colin reached out and pinched a flower petal that had landed on the railing, the cool surface of the plant chilling his fingertips.

’But it’s only a matter of time.’