Summoning Heroic Spirit?

In the bustling heart of Lionheart City, Lance found himself seated beside the cascading fountain in the central square, an invitation from the Valkyrie Temple's clergy heavy in his pocket. He lounged on a bench designed for the weary legs of travelers and tourists, his gaze occasionally drifting to the stoic face of the Valkyrie statue he'd observed in the temple earlier.

With a mischievous grin, he bellowed three times into the bustling square, "Sophia, pay back the money!" Despite his calls, the expression of the Valkyrie statue remained unchanged. It was said that if a statue imbued with a hint of divinity sensed a true believer's plea, it would manifest incredible transformations. Some of the clergy claimed to witness these changes, while others remained skeptical.

Lance knew well that the statues in smaller cities like this one lacked significant divine presence. To truly capture the attention of the gods, one would have to venture to the grand temples in the capital or other major holy sites, where the statues held greater power.

"If Sophia truly is the Valkyrie," Lance muttered, clenching his fists, "then she's an ancient being, far older than even me, a mere fledgling compared to the ageless black dragon."

Next to him, Joanna sighed deeply, her face buried in her hands. "Your Highness, I fear the Valkyrie Temple will banish me forever after today." She lamented how the guest she had introduced had shouted insolently at the sacred statue. Now, because of this, her welcome at the temple would be suspended, at least for a while.

The situation had escalated quickly when the temple's bishop, along with a Golden Wing Knight and a priest, had intervened personally to escort Lance away, an honor not even bestowed at her father's grandest banquets. She had noted the barely concealed fury on their faces as they led the blasphemous Mr. Brandon out; even the formidable Golden Wing Knights would not tolerate such disrespect lightly.

"It's all right," consoled the young dragon with a reassuring glance at Joanna. "You are a devoted follower of the Valkyrie. She will not forsake you." Her eyes then shifted back to Lance, who was now amusingly observing pigeons pecking at the square's cobblestones, seemingly oblivious to the potential wrath of a divine being. Even for an evil dragon, disrespecting a Valkyrie could spell disaster, after all, a Valkyrie's might far surpassed that of legendary warriors and epic heroes.

As Lance continued to watch the pigeons, she casually remarked, "Shall we head back to the City Lord's Mansion for dinner?"

"No, I think we'll feast on roasted pigeons tonight," he replied nonchalantly.

At his words, a plump white pigeon, which had been blissfully nibbling at scraps, paused and looked up. Its small eyes widened in sheer disbelief, echoing the absurdity of the day's events.

Could this audacious human truly be contemplating roasting it for supper?

The plump white pigeon had initially believed the human's interest was simply in its round body and pristine feathers, perhaps even to offer it some crumbs. But the genial smile that Lance wore was, in truth, a devil's grin!

"Such barbarity," it thought in dismay. "To think of eating a white dove, the very symbol of peace!"

Here, in the sacred confines of the temple, it wasn't just any dove but one raised by the clergy themselves, a dove imbued with a certain spiritual essence.

Lance, with a chuckle, remarked to the young dragon beside him, "Look at that dove, plump and promising. Should we dine on it tonight?"

The young dragon, never having tasted roasted pigeon, eyed the fat white bird that seemed to stare back in horror. She couldn't help but think how delicious it might be if prepared by Lance's skilled hands.

The poor dove, however, was petrified. It had never imagined that the seemingly foolish young dragon could harbor such sinister intentions. Wasn't a charming and chubby bird like itself usually adored rather than devoured?

In a flutter of panic, the dove backed away, its coos turning into alarmed squawks. It didn't dart towards the trees but instead made a beeline for the temple, seeking sanctuary. Before fleeing, it warned its feathered companions with urgent coos, "Fly! Before you end up on their plates!"

"Why did they all take flight so suddenly?" Lance mused aloud, puzzled.

"You were too loud," the young dragon replied with a sigh. "Seems like no roasted pigeon for us tonight."

Lance had hoped to snag the white dove, but it had been quicker and wiser than he anticipated, understanding his intentions and escaping to the safety of the temple.

"Um, Lance, did you actually confirm it just now?" the young dragon asked, shifting the topic nervously.

"Confirm what? Oh, if Sophia is the Valkyrie? Not entirely sure, but my gut tells me they're connected somehow."

"And you dare to demand 'Sophia, pay me back' in front of her statue just on a hunch? Just because they resemble each other doesn't mean they're the same," she scolded. "And who knows? Sophia might already be a heroic spirit, having perhaps sacrificed herself for the city. Even if she didn't, she could still ascend to such a status posthumously."

The young dragon's voice carried a tremble of fear; the thought of accompanying Lance on a global quest to extract debts from various Valkyrie Temples was terrifying. While the evil dragon had no fear of divine retribution, she, a mere fledgling, felt quite vulnerable.

"Just remind me later," Lance mused, almost to himself, "I'll try to summon her from the Valkyrie Temple tonight."

The young dragon could only blink in confusion and growing apprehension.

"Seriously?" the young dragon queried, her voice tinged with both skepticism and curiosity. As an imperial princess, she was well-versed in the lore and stringent conditions required for summoning heroic spirits.

Summoning these ethereal warriors was a privilege not just anyone could claim. It demanded more than mere desire; one had to embody virtues like integrity, strength, and honor, and be renowned in at least some capacity.

"Ordinary folks can dream of summoning Heroic Spirits all they want, but without the right virtues, those spirits won't so much as flicker in their direction," she explained.

"True," she continued, "royal princes, noble offspring, or descendants of celebrated warriors often meet these criteria, allowed to beckon Heroic Spirits in the Hall of Valor."

She glanced skeptically at Lance. "You're formidable, Lance, but summoning Heroic Spirits? You're not exactly the descendant of a famed hero or warrior."

Lance shrugged, his demeanor casual. "If having a heroic or royal ancestor were the only requirement, I might have a chance. After all, who knows what notable deeds my ancestors might have achieved back in their dragon days?"

The young dragon couldn't help but chuckle. "But considering you nearly fell for ancient scams in your youth, I'd say your lineage isn't exactly... royal."

"Heroic Spirits... Can they really be summoned just like that?" she prodded further.

Lance nodded, "There are special conditions, of course. Meeting them is one thing, but whether a Heroic Spirit answers your call is another."

"Have you ever managed to summon one yourself?" she asked, half-mocking, half-serious.

"Actually, yes, I did once," Lance admitted with a sheepish grin.

"Really?!" she exclaimed, eyes wide with disbelief.

Lance laughed, the memory clearly vivid. "I did, but it didn't go as planned. The Heroic Spirit I summoned ended up crying for mercy after being thrashed by my opponent's spirit. 'Don't hit me in the face, Lance, save me!' It was quite the spectacle."

The young dragon sighed. "So, summoning isn't just about who you are or your luck, it also depends on the character and strength of the spirit you draw. Sometimes, you might end up with a powerful ally, and other times... well, you get a mascot."

Lance nodded, reflecting on his earlier attempt. "Exactly. It looked cool, at least for the first three minutes of the fight."