The Mighty Dragons Are Dead

Chapter 64: There is a Juan Fu in the Castle

Translator: 549690339

“Caw! Caw!”

“Caw! Caw!”

“Caw! Caw!”

In the castle’s study, an unpleasant bird call was heard from time to time. The fledgling Wind Falcons were quite ugly, covered only with fine down that was so thin it was almost invisible, and curled up tightly against the skin, making them look like plucked chickens. Compared to the streamlined bodies of adult Wind Falcons that roamed the skies, they were worlds apart.

Yet Liszt liked them very much, after all, they were flying Magical Beasts.

There was already a Fierce Earth Dog in the castle, which he occasionally took out for a walk, decking it out with a few Rock Spikes for a pleasing sight. If he could add a Wind Falcon to the mix, it would be absolutely cool to summon a Wind Blade whenever he felt like it.

Unfortunately, falcons don’t imprint on their owners and Liszt hadn’t figured out how to train it yet.

For now he could only feed it.

He had already had the castle’s maids sew a pair of leather gloves; he had seen videos of people doing falconry before, and they all wore a pair of leather gloves for the falcon to perch on. There seemed to be some sort of toy as well, which they threw to attract the falcon and then reeled it back in. Once the toy was back, the falcon would just circle nearby and not fly away.

“When I have time, I need to research this toy, or perhaps go to Coral City to inquire if there are any hunters skilled in birdkeeping, and find out how they tame birds.”

The dinner was roasted Fruit Thief Monkey meat.

It didn’t have the tenderness of roasted beef and was slightly fibrous, making it tough to tear. However, perhaps due to their frequent consumption of Fragrant Coconut Fruit, the monkey meat had a faint scent of coconut milk after roasting, which was a unique taste different from ordinary roasted meat, and it proved very popular among the people at the banquet.

“If the meat of the Fruit Thief Monkey could be made a bit more tender, it would certainly become a delicacy. I suggest that the town could rear them in large quantities,” Goltai said with his mouth full of grease.

Liszt was much more elegant, as he didn’t choose to eat the roasted Fruit Thief Monkey meat and simply watched others enjoy their meal: “Being able to breed them in large numbers is a good thing; that’s also my decision. But eating their meat is not a good idea, for monkeys have higher intelligence and should be trained to climb trees and help fruit farmers with their work.”

According to the theories from his hometown, humans and monkeys had a common ancestor and both belonged to the primate family.

This world didn’t have such a concept; humans were humans, with no evolution involved. Besides dragons and elves, all other creatures were considered inferior to humans—even in the eyes of many, dragons and elves were only slightly more magical creatures and couldn’t compare to humans.

There had been instances of eating dragons… eating elves… and even cannibalism was not unheard of.

So he didn’t eat, but he didn’t stop others from eating either.

Isaiah curiously asked, “Sir, can monkeys really be trained well enough to help fruit farmers with their work?”

“Of course, it’s the same as training dogs and horses,” Liszt was so certain because he had seen plenty of monkey performances.

He had also read a news article saying that in Malaysia or Thailand, local people trained monkeys to climb trees and pick coconuts. A fruit farmer who had mistreated his monkey ended up dead after the monkey, in a fit of rage, pelted him with wild fruits.

Now, since the ownership of the Fruit Thief Monkeys belonged to Liszt, once trained and handed over to the fruit farmers, he was sure no one would dare to mistreat them.

It was unlikely that the same situation of monkeys killing their owner would occur.

“If the Fruit Thief Monkeys are really trained well, that will be an interesting sight. I’ve never thought we could make monkeys work for us,” Blair said, laughing heartily as if he could already see the image of monkeys picking fruit.

Liszt said with a smile, “In that case, the task of training the Fruit Thief Monkeys will be your responsibility, Blair.”

“Er, okay, I think I can handle it.”

That’s when Marcus suddenly asked, “Sir, how should we deal with the carcass of the Wind Falcon? Do I need to make another trip to Coral City to sell it?”

The Wind Falcon was a Low-Level Magical Beast, and it wouldn’t be a problem to sell it for about a dozen Gold Coins.

If it had been before, Liszt would certainly have sold it to purchase living supplies.

But now, the town was not short on money to spend, as the income from the Black Tulip was enough to support his noble lifestyle for decades.

Feeling wealthy and powerful, Liszt said on the spot, “No need to sell it. Let the meat dry, and someday we’ll host a Wind Falcon barbecue party. As for the other parts, Teacher Marcus, do you have any good suggestions for their use?”

“Bird bones are hollow, especially the Wind Falcon’s bones, which contain wind attribute magic power. The joint bones can be made into signal whistles for sending messages, and they produce a very loud sound. Larger bones could be turned into tools; they’re light and strong, better than iron tools. Moreover, its feathers are excellent materials for making arrows,” said Marcus, quickly planning the use of every part of the Wind Falcon’s body: “You are about to learn archery, so you will need a batch of arrows.”

Liszt asked, “Does anyone in the town know how to make arrows?”

Marcus immediately replied, “I do. I make my own arrows.”

“Thank you for your hard work, Teacher Marcus,” said Liszt, lifting his cup filled with hop-flavored beer, “This drink is to honor you, and thank you for those two arrows this afternoon. They secured the Wind Falcon, otherwise, it would have been a great menace.”

“It’s my pleasure to serve you!”

Marcus, with a hearty gesture, raised his cup of hop-less beer and drained it in one gulp.

The bonfire had died, and the stars filled the sky.

Goltai, Marcus, and the others had already returned.

The servants busied themselves cleaning up after the feast, while Liszt was holding a cup of milk tea brought by Butler Carter—he had a habit of drinking a cup of milk tea before bed.

The rich nutrition of the milk was urgently needed by his body, being sixteen, an age for growth.

“Master, your bath water is ready,” announced the servant.

“How is the young Wind Falcon doing?”

“It’s still squawking a lot, but we have fed it plenty of little fish and shrimp. It’s certainly not hungry. However, Master, that little bird…is quite ugly.”

“I agree with you. Let’s go and see this little fellow. If it’s going to squawk all night long then take it outside; I don’t want to be woken up in the middle of the night,” said Liszt, handing his empty cup back to Carter, and walking inside the castle. Whenever he encountered servants working, they would stop and bow to him respectfully.

This sensation was very pleasant.

He was becoming more and more accustomed to his noble identity, aligning his mindset and loyalty with the noble class—if anyone dared to shake the foundation of the nobles’ power, it would mean crossing Liszt!

“Good night, gentlemen, ladies,” he said with an impeccable, standard noble smile, “I hope you all have sweet dreams until the morning.”

“Thank you, Master.”

Soon, Liszt had ascended to the second floor, which was his private area.

Carter pushed open the door to the study. The previously quiet room immediately filled with an unpleasant squawking—”caw caw,” “caw caw,” “caw caw.”

“No matter how many times I hear it, it still sounds unpleasant,” remarked Liszt, looking at the unsightly, curly-feathered little bird in a nest padded with some straw. “Mr. Carter, what do you think we should call it?”

“There is a ‘Douson’ outside the castle, found in the forest and shivering all over. Maybe this little bird found on the Fragrant Coconut Tree, shaking all over, could be called ‘Shivery Coconut’?”

Even though Carter misunderstood the meaning of “Douson,” Liszt still laughed: “Mr. Carter, you are becoming more humorous. However, I don’t like the name Shivery Coconut. It looks like it has curly, fine feathers, and I hope it will be lucky enough to live to the day it soars… Let’s call it ‘Juan Fu’.”

“Hmm, Juan Fu… Master, I think that name sounds nice.”

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