REFDL 67

A month had passed since their return.

The relationship between Yuram and Kaelus grew increasingly awkward. More precisely, Kaelus was unilaterally avoiding Yuram.

For the first few days, Yuram understood and deliberately kept his distance. But when Kaelus’ avoidance stretched past a week, Yuram finally exploded.

He confronted Kaelus in a somewhat extreme way. He abruptly transformed into human and moved into the annex.

…But he was too scared to cause a complete incident, so he called Nitan first.

Nitan slapped his forehead and went to fetch Kaelus with hollow eyes.

A minute felt like a decade. He waited with his heart pounding like it would jump out, but only Nitan returned. With a strangely awkward expression, he relayed that Yuram could continue staying in the annex.

Instead, he must always be accompanied by Nitan whenever going anywhere.

“…What’s that supposed to mean?”

“…I, too, was wondering.”

As he muttered disbelief, Nitan hollowly laughed.

And so, Yuram ended up staying in the annex as a human, half-heartedly. This is the full story of the ‘Beauty of the Annex’ incident that shook the entire capital.

Meanwhile, Kaelus, who had made his office his nest, rationalized it to himself.

‘I’m… busy right now.’

He’d meet him later when he had time.

And so, he recklessly postponed the compounding karma, like interest on a loan.

He really was swamped with work.

The already heavy workload had swelled several times over, waiting for him.

The mountain of documents encircling his desk looked like a crouching monster.

This time, the campaign period was particularly long. Compared to previous campaigns, it had been delayed by at least double, so naturally, the accumulated workload had doubled as well.

Compound interest is worse than loan sharks.

Even Kaelus wore a slightly disgusted expression.

‘…Did the papers breed or something while I was gathering them?

Putting aside his brief escape from reality, the duke regained his composure and began his work.

But his concentration vanished almost instantly.

A pale, smooth face flickered above the papers.

“…….”

He knew now.

That the one who had shaken his stone-cold heart was a dragon.

That knowledge didn’t change much.

Yes.

That was precisely the problem.

He should shudder at the mere sight of a dragon, yet he didn’t.

His neck and wrists didn’t tingle. Neither did his ankles. Instead, he felt an urge to charge headlong like a moth drawn to a flame.

He wanted to wrap his arms around that slender waist that fit in his embrace, to bury his face in that soft body.

Crack.

He pushed away the shattered fountain pen fragments and clicked his tongue. His gaze, now even colder, fixed on the ink splattered at his fingertips.

He would try to wipe it away, but the outcome was doubtful.

He wasn’t simply a stain anymore.

He was a tattoo seeping into his skin without his consent.

“Ha…”

Kaelus sighed.

One month.

The anger hadn’t died, but it couldn’t be called persistent either.

It hadn’t been such a great fire to begin with. Only embers remained in the furnace lodged in his chest.

It hadn’t gone out, but it was a shallow ember that could die out at any moment without surprise.

What was lacking was a trigger.

“……”

If he had just one trigger, it was now ready to go out at any moment.

* * *

The days thawed quickly.

Once the river ice melted, spring arrived in an instant.

People who had gathered in inns or taverns to talk about the Monster Wave and the extermination campaign gradually shifted their topics to other things.

For instance, the Founding Festival, which was now just a month away.

“Goodness. Time sure flies. The Founding Festival is already approaching.”

“It really is. I’m so excited for the parade I can’t sleep at night!”

“Hey, you’re just like our kids.”

“How old are yours again this year…?”

“Shut up! Who can resist the thrill of anticipation?”

“Hahaha. He’s not wrong. I’m also really looking forward to seeing what kind of dragon His Majesty will ride this year.”

Hearing this, the man slammed his empty beer glass down with a flushed face.

“It’s have to be the Kremlis, right?!”

“Uh… well.”

“That… um.”

But the reactions around him were subtle. The tipsy man’s eyes narrowed. People exchanged glances. Before the excited drunk could overturn the table, one person finally took the lead.

“The news that His Grace the Duke rode the Kremlis and fought must have spread, right? You must have heard about it too?”

“Of course I heard!”

“……Then, wouldn’t His Grace be the one the Kremlis was imprinted to?”

“……Huh?”

His drunken, hazy eyes suddenly snapped awake. The drunkard gaped, his expression sober as a judge.

Dragons share similar habits to ordinary egg-born creatures. When they first hatch, they recognize and follow the first being they see as their parent.

The biggest difference is that while ducks or chickens can be raised without imprinting, a dragon without imprinting can’t even be kept in a stable.

Anyway.

Differences in imprinting effects existed between individuals, with the more ferocious and aggressive species showing weaker imprinting effects.

For example, the Knum, known as the capybara of the dragon world.

Once imprinted, these creatures generally behaved docile and unassuming.

On the other hand, known as the dragon world’s troublemaker, ‘Pensilta’.

While the knights are exceptionally well-trained, on average, more than three injury incidents occur annually. Most often, dragon knights are bitten or clawed by their partner dragon or another knight’s dragon. (Incidents like provoking them, playing with their food, or pretending to attack their partner knight—considered self-inflicted disasters—weren’t counted, so the actual number would likely be higher upon investigation)

Considering that a knight’s dragon even expelled its vessel and completed artifact work, there’s no need to elaborate on their temperament and the difficulty of taming them.

The drunken man blinked and retorted.

“Ah, no, but before that, His Majesty brought the Kremlis along to banquets and such? So the rumor that His Majesty imprinted and tamed him spread like wildfire!”

“…Huh?”

This time, it was the others’ turn to roll their eyes.

As they quietly considered it, their expressions turned stunned.

……Oh, right?!

“W-Well, what if His Majesty did the imprinting, and the vessel was claimed by His Grace?”

“Oh! ……But was that even possible?”

“W-Well, I suppose?”

“Knum vessels get traded all the time!”

“And there’s that dragon, about the size of a big dog and super flashy. Nobles trade those too.”

Most information about dragon breeding was classified as high-level intelligence, making it inaccessible for ordinary commoners.

It was indeed true that dragon trading was possible through vessel artifacts.

However, that was strictly limited to individuals with low aggression and belligerence, as mentioned earlier.

If someone tried that with a winged species like Pensilta…

Anyway, among the people drinking cheap beer in a shabby tavern, no one could say for certain about it.

They ended up stammering and wrapping up the conversation with something like, ‘You’ll see when you watch the parade.’

And this kind of conversation repeated itself until the day of the Founding Festival.

It was discussed everywhere people gathered.

* * *

Tortan dropped to his knees at Kaelus’s feet like a mermaid princess. He wrapped his arms tightly around his stone-like calves.

“Please!”

“……”

“It’ll be fine, I swear?! It was fine during the birthday celebration too!”

“…….”

The rumors spreading throughout the capital reached the emperor’s ears.

Tortan immediately sought out Kaelus. To throw a tantr… to propose riding the Kremlis in the parade.

To commemorate Firmus, the founding emperor. Every year on the Founding Festival, the emperor rode a dragon through the capital in an event called the parade.

Each emperor had a different attitude toward the parade. Some feared dragons and substituted intricately crafted structures, or skipped it altogether. Others were so enthusiastic they began selecting their dragon a month in advance (preferences typically leaned toward the splendid ‘Azura’ or the quintessential battle dragon, ‘Pensilta’) and rehearsed beforehand.

…Tortan belonged to this latter group.

In any case, the emperor was neither a dragon expert nor a dragon knight.

Naturally, even if one chose the latter role, riding behind someone else was the norm.

But Tortan, for some inexplicable reason, started insisting he would ride alone on the back of the Kremlis dragon.