Grynoth's words have stirred something within me.

It was such a... strange yet simultaneously pleasant feeling. As if I had never encountered such kindness before...

No... I hadn't appreciated the kindness I had already encountered so many times. Something sparked inside me... gratitude? Recognition? Devotion? I couldn't quite grasp that feeling.

I realized, just in time, that Grynoth had broken our contact... and that was a mercy, because a moment later, I was hit by a dangerous desire to kiss him.

...Either way, we began eating yet again.

I must say I was glad that Grynoth was feeding me regular porridge for breakfast instead of that grand delicacy.

However, that wasn't what I was thinking about at that moment.

"Well, what's wrong? Not tasty?" Grynoth asked with a puzzled look.

"No... No! Not at all! It's just..."

"You don't know how to express your gratitude?"

"...yes. Exactly."

I turned my gaze, blushing, surprised at how quickly Grynoth had gotten to know me by heart in such a short time.

"No need," he laughed, "your face already tells me everything I need to know."

"Am I really that open?"

"Even more than you can imagine."

For a while, I ate in silence, pondering how to continue the conversation, but

nothing came to mind.

"You know... — I finally said, — I... can't understand why you're still..."

I wanted to say 'lonely' but decided it would be too direct, so I rephrased.

"Living alone. I would definitely like to have someone as confident and reliant as you... to carry me when I fall."

Grynoth paused, his spoon hovering halfway to his mouth. Something flickered across his face—a shadow of emotion I couldn't quite place. He set his spoon down with deliberate care.

"Is that what you think I am? Someone to carry you?" His voice wasn't angry, but there was a weight to it.

Heat crept into my cheeks. "That's not what I—I just meant—"

"I know what you meant," he said, cutting me off gently. "But that's not what partnership is about, Gran. Not a real partnership, anyway."

"Then what is it about?" I asked, genuinely curious now.

Grynoth leaned back in his chair, his eyes distant.

"It's about walking together. Sometimes one stumbles, and the other helps them up. Then the roles reverse. But nobody carries anybody permanently—that would crush both spirits in time."

I pushed my porridge around the bowl. "Is that why you're alone? Because you couldn't find someone to walk with?"

"His voice simply stopped, the silence heavier than words.

"How should I explain this to you..."

Finally, he spoke.

"There is a certain... philosophy I have noticed, but it's a bit hard to explain in a way for you to understand."

"Oh, come one, I am not that dumb," — I said, smiling awkwardly.

Grynoth shook his head.

"No, that's not it. It's just...I need to hit a bullseye with this one."

'A perfectionist...' -- I thought -- partly mockingly, partly enviously.

But he didn't finish. Instead, he said:

"Give me one more day. I will explain in that way so you will understand clearly."

"Hey, no rush!" I said, throwing my hands as if conceding, "You are the boss, you rule the ship."

"Said the person who destroyed my tobacco?" he said, smirking slyly.

"That was a... necessary precaution", I said.

***

The rest of the day Grynoth was in mode of what I would call an "ancient thinker". I didn't disturb him, so I went to bed — feeling both closer and more distant somehow.

The next day, however, a certain surprise waiting for me.

...Namely, a poster and markers near Grynoth's table. I didn't know smugglers were giving even that kind of stuff to the dragon realm. Rogue traders, my ass.

But that was just the beginning. Right after that I saw a scroll with some inscriptions on the wall. When I looked closely, I saw:

"Current rank: slacker."

"Current points: 10."

"Rank to neophyte adventurer: 1000 points."

Next was a postscript of which points how many merit points I get. Involuntarily, this brought a smile of mortification to my face. My grandfather had once applied a similar incentive to me.

"This is your progress," Grynoth explained as he entered the room, "When you reach the rank of Neophyte, you can go on your first adventure."

"Wow... I'm right in the academy, hehe."

"Well, yes.. Any adventure requires preparation."

"That makes sense."

After looking at this huge piece of parchment, I asked:

"How did I get such a huge start-up capital of 10 points?"

"This is for your unpretentious help with my work yesterday, -he explained, -or did you want more?"

"To tell you the truth... I didn't want it at all. Otherwise, what kind of an act is selfless after that?"

Grynoth's gaze sharpened — piercing and unblinking.

"Are you sure you are willing to deny even that low of a reward though?" he asked, as if suspicious.

"Um, yes?..." I asked, confused. After a moment of silence, he said.

"Then, let me explain to you something important, first the one thing I didn't get a chance to finish yesterday. Here, sit right beside me".

I have sat down near the table opposing Grynoth.

"Your board game... Baldur, was it? Has an alignment system. Is that correct?"

"Yeah, of course! Chaotic Good is my favourite by the way, hehe"

"I figured", Grynoth smiled momentarily, before returning his stoic expression, "Now, let's imagine a slightly different alignment system."

My curiosity picked, and I have started listening attentively.

"Y axis — altruism versus selfishness", Grynoth stated, "Y axis — reason versus emotions. So far so good?"

"Yep. That's kinda fresh and creative, also. Didn't know you were a game designer in disguise!"

"Let's stay on topic for now", -- Grynoth said, -- "answer me this, Gran: What happens, when a person becomes way too altruistic?"

"That's like... being an actual saint!"

"And how do the saints end up in the end?"

Suddenly, I remembered. Promethea. Our Goddess. Our saviour. She was the one that dragged humanity out of rut. She was the one who showed us the way. Her fate is unclear, as different countries tell different stories. However, One of the versions is...

"She burned on stake for witchcraft." -- I said, my voice trembling, -- "Promethea! Our Goddess!"

Grynoth solemnly nods. "That is correct. Saints burn -- or become tyrants themselves. Now, what happens when a person becomes a little too selfish?"

"They become corporate CEO's...", I said immediately, "...and rot. Hopefully".

A nod again. "Or they redeem themselves in exceptional cases", Grynoth said. "Now, what happens if people become a little too emotional?"

"Well... you kinda also have a drama queen before you for that answer..." I replied, awkwardly, and ashamed.

"And what would happen to you if I wouldn't have intervened?"

"I would become a dinner," I admitted, "cuz I was a complete fucking moron who came to your realm thinking I could just bang-bang my way throught."

Grynoth nodded, and I felt no desire to get offended by that.

"What happens when a person becomes a little too reasoned?"

I knew the answer to that too. One Svabodian-Nippon cautionary tale of t "the wisest calamari" -- except he wasn't wisest at all: wasting his life away, always thinking 'he was not safe enough'.

"They become hermits so much worse than you" I said.

Nod again. Then he started:

"This isn't just a game's alignment system, Gran. It's the truth. Burn, rot, break, wither — that's what happens when you lean too far in any direction".

I sat in stunned silence for a moment, letting Grynoth's words sink in. This wasn't some trivial lesson about farming or magic—this was something deeper, more fundamental. A philosophy of existence itself.

"So you're saying... balance? That's the key?" I finally asked, my voice soft with realization.

"Not just balance," Grynoth corrected, tapping a claw against the table."Dynamic balance. Always adjusting, always aware. Like riding a dragon in flight—you don't sit perfectly still, you shift with the currents. Our realm is more dangerous -- the challenge is to shift to emotion and egoism, while avoiding going to extremes. Your, the human realm, is the opposite -- and will require you to adjust accordingly."

I nodded slowly, pieces clicking together in my mind. "Is that why you live alone? Because you're trying to... what, maintain your balance?"

Grynoth's eyes met mine, and for once, I saw no barriers in them—just raw honesty.

"I thought so... before realizing how misguided I was. People misinterpret balance all the time. Humans, Dragonkin, anyone. They preach balance, while rationalising stagnation and extremism as one — that is a blessing, and a curse of mortal, sentient being. All of our problems we have faced together so far were because of it. I was too rigid or too gentle with you , when I didn't need to. You were always a well meaning, honest, emotionally transparent — but had a clouded judgement due to inexperience and a high emotional capacity. That was the reason for our conflicts, and that is the reason for the world's tragedies at large."

I sat back, feeling as if I'd been struck by lightning. It was like Grynoth had just articulated something I'd felt my entire life but never had the words for.

"So all this time," I said slowly, "when you were pushing me with training, or being harsh, or..."

"I was trying to pull you toward a center you couldn't see yet," Grynoth finished. "Sometimes successfully, sometimes not. I am no perfect mentor, Gran, for I'm still learning this dance myself."

I glanced at the progress board with its measly ten points, seeing it in a new light.

"Is that why you made this? To teach me... balance?"

Grynoth smiled, a genuine smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "Partly. And partly because I think you respond well to games."

I couldn't help but laugh. "You're not wrong."

"The points system isn't just about accumulating numbers," Grynoth explained, rising from his seat to pour us both some tea from a pot I hadn't noticed before. "It's about learning that progress isn't linear. Some days you'll earn fifty points. Some days you'll lose twenty. The journey matters more than the destination."

"And what happens when I reach neophyte status?" I asked, accepting the steaming cup he offered.

"Then we visit the village," Grynoth said simply. "You meet other dragonkin. You expand your understanding of our world."

I shook my head slowly.

"All the adults preached the same, while always deflecting it with biases. But you... you made it sound so simple and clear... and so *real*. You are... incredible, Grynoth. The adult to rival us all."

"What century of experience makes you", — he smiled, — "now then, back to my original question: should you deny yourself a simple pleasure of ten points?

"Hmm..."

That question was clear now... but a certain much more volatile question replaced it.