REFDL 30

He wailed about being hurt, but the emperor quickly revived and stood up. The knights hid their gloomy expressions and efficiently cleaned up the aftermath.

They gathered the broken furniture to one side, found cleaning tools, and swept the floor.

…A moment of clarity hit. It really lasted only a moment. On one side, the man called the emperor was spouting nonsense.

“Why not just go ahead and be the real emperor?”

…Yeah. Let’s just clean.

“I’ll pass.”

“Tsk.”

“……”

Kaelus clenched his fist. But he held back, resisting the urge to hit him. True to his reputation as a dragon knight renowned for patience.

Some might think that.

……But no matter how you look at it, isn’t this situation strange?

It isn’t strange.

Because the emperor, Tortan, tolerates everything.

He was actually more than willing to abdicate if Kaelus desired it. Even the senile elders knew this, so they never provoked Tortan on that point.

Tortan was sincere.

Immediately after the civil war ended.

While the victors and survivors were still steeped in fervor and madness.

The new emperor granted his most loyal sword absolute and unconditional immunity.

It was immunity so broad that even rebellion could be excused once and spare one’s life.

And if the emperor so desired, that “once” could be extended indefinitely.

Crucially, in the will drafted alongside the coronation, Kaelus’s name was placed at the very top.

Meaning, should Tortan die without an heir, the reign of the Firmus imperial family would end, and the Irelion family would become the new imperial family.

Everyone was shocked, but that was only the beginning.

Tortan continued his unprecedented actions.

Now everyone knows.

…Tortan was the sort of person who, even if you threw something at him carelessly, he’d snatch it up and shout ‘Okay, I’ll take it!’ without batting an eye.

And surprisingly, the ones suffering the most under him weren’t the noble council elders.

It was Kaelus.

‘They say humans are creatures of adaptation…’

More accurately, they grew numb to the repeated situation. The knight sweeping up broken vase shards with a broom thought gloomily.

“Anyway.”

Tortan, brushing off his clothes, sat down on the sofa that had miraculously survived the chaos. It wasn’t completely unscathed; one armrest was broken.

Tortan deliberately sat on the broken side and casually crossed his legs.

“You set the condition. ‘Once safety is assured,’ right?”

“……”

“From what I’ve seen, it seems sufficiently assured? He has been playing hide-and-seek with the servants, and no one’s been bitten yet, right?”

Kaelus fell silent.

The past month flashed through the gruff knight’s mind. The daily life he’d been forced to share with the little dragon sped by.

“…….”

Insisting on riding the old swing, only to scream as he flew off when the rope snapped.

Stealing jerky from the kitchen.

When the retriever brought by the supply carrier charged at him to play, he squealed in fear and ran away…

“……”

Something about him…

Before any trauma-induced aversion could even take root, it just… went cold.

Instead, watching him only made him think things like, ‘What exactly is wrong with that thing?’ or ‘Is that even a proper dragon?’

At any rate, the kind of disgust that made his skin crawl was definitely less intense.

If he had to quantify it, it was about half as bad as seeing other dragons.

‘……No. It’s less than half.’

Aware of this fact, Kaelus tried hard not to show it.

But there were many sharp-eyed individuals around him.

Nitan was one.

And Tortan before him was another.

“Haha. Why no answer?”

Kaelus answered while imagining wringing Tortan’s face, which wore a dirty grin, with his hands.

“Yes. Someone was bitten.”

Tortan, who had been grinning the whole time, faltered for the first time.

“…Who?”

“Me.”

“…Really?”

“Yes.”

Tortan groaned in regret.

“Oh dear. But it was a Kremlis you worked so hard to get. You didn’t need to kill him…”

Kaelus, who had been silent for a moment, catching up to the suddenly skipped conversation, spoke.

“I never said I killed him”

“……You didn’t kill him?! But the dragon bit your hand?!”

Kaelus’s expression, visibly startled, became strange.

It was as if he only objectively realized he’d been bitten by the dragon after hearing it from Tortan…….

‘Look at this?’

Tortan’s instincts were awake.

‘Maybe this…’

Tortan outwardly put on an arrogant show, but inside, he was calmer than ever. Even at the end of the civil war, he hadn’t been this calm.

Just a little.

Just a little more prodding.

“Hah. So that’s how it is? Regrettable, but there’s no helping it. That Kremlis must be disposed of. No matter how precious a legendary dragon may be, I can’t trade my most cherished sword’s finger for something whose tamability is unknown.”

Even as he spoke, Tortan was tense.

He thought there was a high probability that words like ‘Now we understand each other. I’ll dispose of it immediately and report back.’

‘If that happens, I’ll have to stop him immediately.’

That wasn’t necessary.

“I’ll take care of my own finger.”

“……!”

“So, regarding the Kremlis…….”

Tortan’s mouth, which had frozen for a moment, twisted into a wide grin.

“……Why are you laughing like that?”

Kaelus, whose intuition was as keen as his skill, felt something ominous. Before the knight’s intuition could fully kick in, Tortan preempted him.

“Bring the Kremlis to the birthday celebration. Present him to the Council of Elders and the envoys that day.”

It was an imperial decree.

Kaelus, who had been about to protest, could only fall silent.

* * *

“……”

Kaelus returned to the mansion and replayed the conversation that followed.

‘The head of the delegation is Valita Denos, the Fourth Prince of Denos. He formally requested it. He said he absolutely wanted to visit the residence of the renowned Dragon Knights’ captain.’

‘It’s because of the Kremlis.’

‘I suppose so. Well, he probably doesn’t plan to do anything substantial in the heart of enemy territory. It’s not the imperial palace, but the Irelion residence. From their point of view, wouldn’t it feel like the lair of a monster?’

‘……What you are saying is….’

The smile vanished from Tortan’s face.

‘Denos probably wants war. It’s just my guess, but… I think the envoys’s report will likely influence whether war happens or not.’

Maybe.

Kaelus thought a little differently.

If they want war, things will happen regardless of the envoys’ report.

But he didn’t say that thought aloud in this situation.

After quickly weighing the options in his mind, he decided there was no need to instill alarm.

Tortan was a realist, not an escapist. Even if he disliked war, he didn’t neglect preparations for it.

‘Therefore, we must not give the visiting delegation any pretext. At the same time, we must demonstrate the Dragon Knights’ strength and the majesty of the Kremlis dragon.’

Tortan lowered his gaze as he finished speaking. He didn’t bow his head, but his posture was as if he had.

‘I’m sorry. …I always end up owing you.’

Kaelus pressed his thumb to his temple.

It was a habit he always resolved to fix, yet never managed to. At this rate, he might lose his temple someday.

‘Useless thoughts.’

He sighed as he lowered his hand, and pressed his forehead against the rattling carriage wall.

“……”

‘Seems the days wandering through the Sea of Trees searching for the Kremlis egg were better.’

The goal was clear.

The task was simple.

The means were limited, but precisely because of that, he didn’t have to agonize over unnecessary things.

Although he ruled over others like it was innate and played the role of a duke, Kaelus knew himself.

He was a sword.

A blade that cut through whatever lay before it.

One that simply needed a master to wield it correctly.

…Kaelus reflexively thought of Tortan.

“…….”

…He’ll wield it correctly…but something felt wrong.

He relaxed his shoulders. Pressing his forehead against the carriage window, he watched the vibrant, dynamic capital.

Sparks flew.

Whoosh.

Suddenly, the world dyed itself in crimson. Flames surged up.

Buildings collapsed as if hit by a massive earthquake. Dragons, once allies, now tangled and fought each other. They plummeted.

Corpses littered the ground. Knights snatched and hurled by dragons lay scattered across rooftops and spires, their mangled, impaled bodies looking brutally avant-garde.

The midday nightmare was weak.

Closing and reopening his eyes once was enough.

The landscape, redder than twilight, vanished. Bright sunlight poured down upon the capital.

“Hahaha!”

“Today’s fruit is cheap! Cheap!”

“Thief! Catch the thief!”

“……”