She lingered around the rest of the afternoon, finding excuses to be near Gen without ever admitting that was what she was doing.
She circled the kiln twice, pretending to examine the clay workmanship.
She sat on the log pile and stared at the treeline like she was contemplating something deeply important.
She walked over to the stable and poked at Baegun’s fur until the wolf gave her a flat look and moved to the other side of the pen.
Every time Gen looked up, she was somewhere nearby, arms crossed, expression carefully arranged into disinterest.
She was simply…
surveying the area.
It was what any responsible dragon princess did when visiting a potential ally’s territory.
Nothing more.
Gen ignored her completely and walked over to the small farm he had planted around day 105.
The plot was modest, about an acre, tucked against the treeline where the soil stayed damp.
The roots had grown tangled together, a dense mat of vegetation that looked like a single organism instead of individual plants.
He crouched down and broke off a small piece near the edge, dusting the dirt off with his thumb.
He bit into the outer bark.
The taste hit his tongue, extremely starchy, bland and dense like a cadaver root.
Not unpleasant exactly, but not something you would eat raw.
He scraped the outer layer off with his thumbnail and tried the inside.
Sweet.
Much sweeter, with a texture similar to a sweet potato but denser, more fibrous.
He chewed slowly, letting the flavor settle.
Edible.
Definitely edible.
The starchy outer layer would need cooking to break down, but the inside was good raw.
Probably high in calories too, which meant good survival food.
The vines climbing out of the root cluster had produced small purple fruits, about the size of grapes, hanging in loose clusters.
He plucked one and bit into it.
The skin burst and the flavor flooded his mouth, a mix of grape and pomegranate, sweet and tart at the same time, with tiny seeds that crunched between his teeth.
He was not a florist or a taxonomist.
He did not exactly know what all of this meant in terms of nutrition.
But he figured he could work with it.
The grape-pomegranate things could be day to day sweet snacks.
Something to eat when he needed a quick energy boost.
The mild starchy roots could be turned into a type of soup maybe, or ground up into a flour.
He sat back on his heels and let the ideas roll through his head.
He could dry the roots, grind them into dust, mix the powder with water and the pomegranate-grape juice, and fry the whole thing into a bread-type meal.
The fruit juice would add sweetness, maybe enough to make the bread palatable on its own.
Though he would need some eggs or milk to give it real taste and structure.
He snapped his fingers.
He could try it anyway.
If it failed, he would learn something.
If it worked, he would have a new food source.
The roots were finally in season.
That was the real win.
He had been waiting months for this.
He plucked one of the pomegranate-grape fruits and held it up, turning it over in his palm.
The skin was smooth and dark purple, almost black in the dim light.
He looked over at Vyxia, who had somehow drifted closer without him noticing.
She was standing maybe 15 feet away, pretending to inspect a tree.
“Hey,” Gen called out.
“Get closer. I want to show you something.”
Vyxia’s head snapped toward him.
Her face twisted into a sneer.
“I would never go to the peasants’ crop field. That is below me. That is beneath my dignity. I am a princess of the Elräänga bloodline. I do not wade through dirt and weeds like some common—”
She kept talking.
The words kept coming.
Blahblahblah its below me.
Blahblahblah I have standards.
Blahblahblah a dragon of my stature would never lower herself to inspect primitive vegetation.
But her feet were already moving.
She walked across the field without realizing it, her body carrying her toward him while her mouth continued its protest.
She did not stop until she was inches from him.
She blinked, looked down, and realized where she was standing.
Her face went red.
Gen held out the purple fruit.
“Do you know what these are called?.”
Vyxia snatched the fruit from his hand.
She held it up to the light, turned it over, squinted at it like it had personally offended her.
“It must be some crude vegetable native to the death continent,” she said, her voice dripping with dismissal.
“A common weed at best. Probably has no nutritional value whatsoever. It likely tastes terrible and will give you digestive issues. You should not eat it. You should throw it away immediately.”
Gen snatched it back from her.
“That probably means it is a completely new vegetable. Which means I get to name it.”
He cleared his throat and held the fruit up dramatically.
He paused.
Frowned.
Shook his head.
“Or maybe Graperanate. That sounds better. Graperanate. No wait, that is just pomegranate with a G. That is stupid. Okay. How about… Purpleveggiesubsetoroots. Fuck, I am bad at names.”
Vyxia stood there, watching him fumble through terrible name after terrible name.
She had no idea why she was still standing there.
She should have walked away the moment she realized she had wandered into the crop field.
She should have laughed at his incompetence and left him to his pathetic human naming attempts.
But something made her stay.
Without thinking, she opened her mouth.
The words came out before she could stop them.
“How about Vypluvi. Vy for small. Plu for purple. And Vi from Vitiara, which means good to eat in Fluven.”
She froze.
Her eyes went wide.
Her mouth snapped shut.
She had helped him.
She had actually helped him.
She had contributed to his naming process like some kind of…
collaborator.
Like they were working together.
Her face turned a shade of red that had never existed before.
Gen blinked.
He looked at the fruit.
He looked at her.
A slow grin spread across his face.
“Vypluvi. That is actually good. That is really good. Vy for small, plu for purple, Vi for good to eat. It works. It fits. Thank you.”
He nodded and tucked the fruit into his pocket.
“I am calling it the Vipluvi. That is official now. You named a vegetable. Congratulations.”
Vyxia’s face burned hotter.
She had done it again.
She had unconsciously helped the human.
She had let her guard down and let him see that she actually cared, even a little bit, even by accident.
She spun around and stormed off toward the log pile, her bare feet slapping against the dirt, her tail lashing behind her like an angry serpent.
She sat down hard, crossed her arms, and stared at the ground with the intensity of someone trying to set it on fire with her mind.
Gen watched her go.
He was still grinning.
“Vipluvi,” he said to himself, testing the name again.
“Yeah. That is a good name.”