I Married the Dragon I Killed
Chapter 105
“What do you mean by that?”
“I don’t want to spread unnecessary fear to the others, but do you realize that what you just did was practically suicide?”
Hanson blustered at those words.
“What’s so dangerous about it? If their official lays a hand on me, it’ll only be their loss anyway….”
“Nonsense. You nearly lost your life just moments ago.”
“Administrator Isabella didn’t do a thing. How on earth was I about to lose my life?”
“People like you wouldn't know, but I was a mercenary once. I’ve traveled all over the Serdes continent doing every job that paid. During that time, I encountered Dragon Spawn once.”
Normally, Hanson would have dismissed it as typical tall tales.
However, the middle-aged man had a bloodthirsty look in his eyes that no pretender could fake.
“It was the day we were hunting an ogre. Since the target was what it was, we went in fully prepared with a large company of mercenaries. It was a fierce battle. The creature's regeneration and our preparation were neck and neck. That’s when a latecomer appeared. It was a Dragon Spawn.”
The middle-aged foreman swallowed hard.
“Whether that ogre was the Dragon Spawn’s target or not, we ended up taking it down together—in a manner of speaking. No, calling it a joint effort is embarrassing. The moment he arrived, he took its head clean off. All we did was leave a few scratches on the corpse.”
“What does that have to do with now?”
“Listen to the end. The real story starts now. After the ogre was dead, he cut off its ear and tossed it to our mercenary captain.”
“As proof of the subjugation?”
“Exactly. Since the Dragon Spawn had snatched the credit, he was showing a bit of goodwill in his own way.”
“Sounds like the matter was settled amicably. Why are you telling me this?”
“We thought so too. But we were wrong. Our mercenary captain was a former knight. And he was reckless. He tried to act tough with that Dragon Spawn. Do you know what happened next?”
With a frozen expression, he made a gesture of slicing a throat.
“He struck his head off right then and there.”
“…….”
“Do you think only that man died? No. He didn't stop the ruthless slaughter until ten more people, including that head, were down.”
“Why would he do such a thing…?”
“It’s simple. Because he talked back. To them, it is unacceptable for the young, weak, and foolish to show pride. Do you finally realize what you’ve done?”
The foreman gestured with his chin toward a certain spot.
It was the seat where the Armor Knight had been sitting.
“If that noble soul hadn't stopped you, it wouldn't have ended until you and several others here were dead.”
Having said his piece, the middle-aged foreman slung his tools over his shoulder and walked out.
Hanson couldn't follow him. He was inwardly chewing over the man's words—realizing just how absurdly reckless his actions had been.
‘Still, I was right.’
Because the Armor Knight was there, hadn't he escaped death? Regardless of the means, things were undoubtedly flowing according to his intentions.
* * *
Meanwhile, Isabella was also replaying a peculiar sensation in her mind.
‘For a moment, instinct overwhelmed me.’
The instinct of a Dragon Spawn boils down to a single thing: honor.
The most precious beings under heaven are the Father and Mother.
Make an example of any who defile their names and punish them a hundredfold.
Chase those who kill their children to the ends of Hell and put them to a painful death.
That nature had momentarily overwhelmed her. It was inevitable.
To such a Dragon Spawn, even when looking at humans, there are ranks. Those worthy of respect are duly respected, but everyone else is on the level of dogs or livestock. Their only advantage over beasts is that they can communicate to some degree.
It was the same for Isabella, a descendant of Iorga.
She respected Ferda because he was Valdroba’s fiancé and a capable Regent. She respected William for his exceptional martial skills and the mental strength that surpassed them.
But Hanson?
He was no different from any other ordinary human. In other words, he was on par with a dog that knew how to talk.
She had even brought him a snack, yet instead of wagging his tail, the insolent cur had bitten his master’s hand. She had gone through the trouble of proposing and receiving approval for an amicable solution, only for him to demand more.
A dog that bites a person must die.
That single thought had possessed her, and she had intended to kill Hanson. He alone would have sufficed as an example.
‘Until that man blocked me.’
The Armor Knight.
A tall, sturdy build. Armor that could not be penetrated by clairvoyance magic. While the design looked like something crafted at the level of a village blacksmith, it was undoubtedly made of the highest quality materials.
‘If that man hadn't stood in the way….’
Isabella would have acted on instinct. Hanson’s head would be rolling on the floor, or if he were lucky, his entire body would have been left a wreck. He certainly wouldn't have met a pleasant end.
‘I thought he was just dull and slow-witted, but he has surprisingly sharp intuition.’
Isabella, too, began to take an interest in him. He was too good to be left as a mere laborer.
* * *
The Armor Knight, Valdroba, thought to herself.
‘Why is everyone sitting here?’
This was before Isabella had entered. The atmosphere was unusual. The people in sight were all foreman-level figures. They were huddled together in the cramped office, waiting for something.
‘The manager definitely said something….’
Hanson had said a lot of things before this happened. However, because he talked for so long, she hadn't quite grasped the main point. There was only one thing she understood clearly:
—Sir Knight, I desperately need your help.
He said he desperately needed help. So, while she didn't know what was going on, she decided to help him.
‘It’s for the sake of this village!’
She had assumed it would be a task requiring some form of strength. Yet all she was doing was sitting next to Hanson. No matter how she looked at it, it didn't seem like a job that required help.
‘I’m bored.’
Since she wasn't moving her body, it felt like her muscles were stiffening. Even though she wanted to stand up, the heavy atmosphere kept her pinned in place.
‘Let’s wait just a little longer….’
With that thought, she sat there for several hours. After a while, someone entered.
‘It’s a child of Iorga.’
At the same time, Ruri’s warning came to mind.
—Master, please make sure you are never caught acting like a laborer here. Especially, those damn water lizards must never find out.
Because Ruri had looked more ferocious than ever when saying it, Valdroba didn't dare ignore her. She felt strangely nervous. Worried that she might be found out….
Meanwhile, some conversation was taking place. As Isabella’s speech was nearing its end, Valdroba managed to catch a few words.
—Please cease the ongoing strike and return to your livelihoods.
Livelihood. That meant to go back to work. Only then did Valdroba realize.
‘So that’s what it was!’
The reason they had been waiting like this was that the descendant of Iorga had forbidden them from working. That was why they were waiting here.
‘They must be so angry because they were being stopped from working.’
It was something that would have made Valdroba angry too. She felt happy on her own, thinking she shared common ground with the workers.
‘Now, time to go to work.’
But it was then.
“I cannot do that.”
Hanson had refused it.
‘Why??’
The person who told them not to work was clearly the child of Iorga, so why was he refusing now that she told them to work? Valdroba couldn't understand Hanson’s behavior.
‘If you work, you get money. Why doesn't he want to work?’
Working brings money. Money allows one to eat delicious things. They were even being told they’d get more money, so she couldn't understand why he was kicking the offer away. Most of all…
‘I want to work.’
Valdroba, who wanted to see another building go up as soon as possible, had no choice but to move and poke his shoulder. Fortunately, it seemed her message was conveyed; Hanson didn't say anything more, and the foremen headed outside to resume their tasks.
Valdroba looked up at the sky. She could see the sun already dipping significantly toward the west.
‘I have to finish today’s quota quickly.’
It wasn't that she was being chased by anything. She simply loved to work. That was why she liked Mondays more than Sundays when everyone else rested.
‘Off to work I go.’
The Red Dragon, Valdroba. Today, she headed to the construction site with joy.
* * *
The day of the council.
The building intended to be the Hestia branch of the Pascal Merchant Guild was chosen as today’s conference room. The reason was extremely simple: Ferda just didn't want to let those insolent fools into his own nest. Ruri also agreed with that sentiment, and only then did Isabella back down.
Of course, Isabella explained the reason differently. She framed it as a gesture of examining the actual conditions of Hestia Village and showing trust in the village’s architecture.
Since she was someone who already had a good reputation, it wasn't hard for people to accept it as her looking out for the commoners. She was adding momentum to her already positive image.
After finishing his morning preparations, Ferda moved to the council hall. As he entered, everyone stood up to show their respect.
“We shall begin the council meeting.”
As soon as Ferda took his seat, Isabella acted as the moderator and opened the session. While following the formalities and reciting the opening remarks, Ferda observed the expressions of those present.
A large group of people was already seated opposite him. All of them had the protest slogan ‘Give me life or give me death’ written on their foreheads.
‘Should I just kill them all?’
They were practically begging to be killed, so wouldn't it be polite to grant their wish? Or at least make them suffer enough to wish they were dead. The fact that he couldn't do either and had to deal with them through words alone was incredibly agonizing for Ferda.
Still, he had expected as much. Ferda also spotted an unexpected figure. A very familiar face. No, not a familiar face, but a helmet.
‘The Armor Knight.’
His feelings toward him were a bit more complicated. The fellow who had turned his back after refusing the offer of a knighthood. It would be a lie to say he wasn't resentful. After he had spoken to him like that, the man had kicked away his goodwill.
‘No, I can understand kicking it away.’
But to think the reason was to participate in something like this and muddy the waters.
‘Could it be…?’
Ferda considered one possibility.
‘What if that guy is the actual mastermind behind this situation?’
It was a possibility. What if he was aiming for a noble position with land, going beyond just being a knight? There were plenty of people in the Empire who did such things. What if he was drawing a big picture for his comeback?
‘And there’s no risk of failure.’
He could just put up a puppet leader like Hanson and back out if things got unfavorable.
‘Pathetic.’
A sense of contempt following the feeling of betrayal welled up. He had thought the man was somewhat noble, but to think he was such a materialist.
‘I’ll rip your mouth open one day.’
Ferda stared at the Armor Knight with eyes full of hatred.
Inside the armor, Valdroba saw those eyes.
‘Mr. Ferda is glaring at me….’
A gaze that didn't hold a shred of kindness. Yet, she didn't hate those eyes at all. She tried her best to suppress her pounding heart.
Announcing the opening, the first person to speak was Hanson, the representative of the workers' committee.
“I sincerely thank the Regent and the Administrator for listening to the common people.”
Hanson spoke while looking at what he had written down.
“Last autumn, we came here as laborers to help build Hestia Village and set foot on this land for the first time.”
The beginning was a reasonably ambitious story.
“However, due to a recent unfortunate incident, thirty casualties occurred, which threw the village into great chaos.”
There was some confusion, but it had been said it wasn't enough to make a fuss about. It was unclear whether Hanson was unaware of that fact or if he possessed the brazenness to pretend not to know even if he did.
“As a wise king and leader, I humbly submit this petition, asking you to listen to the pleas of the common people. First, we request an increase in wages for those employed in construction. Second, we request the creation of a construction union.”
Their demands appeared to be two, but they were actually three. Money and a home.
‘And power.’
Power naturally gathers where people unite. A place called a union or a guild is a power institution created under the pretext of representing the voices of the commoners.
‘One thing is certain: someone wrote this for him.’
Looking at the vocabulary and the way he read it, Ferda couldn't believe Hanson had written it himself.
‘Did that guy write it instead?’
If he could write text of that level, it would lend weight to Ferda’s mastermind theory.
‘In any case, everything is as expected.’
To be precise, it was Stefan’s expectation. Having managed a large company under his father, he was sharp in these matters and had caught on quickly.
“If,” Ferda asked, just in case, “what do you plan to do if I ignore those requests?”
Hanson grew tense at those words. Even though the Regent was young, Hanson was overwhelmed by a gaze that didn't match his age. Thus, Hanson gave a subtle signal to Valdroba.
‘It’s my turn to move.’
At that, she moved smoothly and placed her hand on the pen and paper. What she was to write was the slogan written on their foreheads.
‘He told me to write… Give me life or give me death, right?’
Valdroba was nervous. Everyone’s eyes were on her. She had thought it wouldn't matter since she just had to write the words, but…
‘…How do I write it?’
She had forgotten how to write the characters. No, it was closer to not knowing. She had become accustomed to reading, so she could understand characters when she saw them, but writing was a different matter entirely. In other words, her brain could take input, but it couldn't produce output.
It made sense, as the number of times she had written characters in her life could be counted on one hand. Naturally, she hadn't practiced, and she couldn't even remember the spelling properly.
‘Give me life or give me death, give me life or give me death.’
She muttered it frantically in her head while trying to imitate the letters. The resulting text she wrote was this:
—Giv me lyfe or giv me deth.
“……?”
“……?”
The handwriting looked cheap, and the spelling was all wrong. Not only Ferda, but even Hanson, their representative, was shocked and broke into a cold sweat. Looking at those characters, Ferda became certain of one thing.
‘He wasn't a mastermind after all.’
It was the moment his contempt turned into pity.
