I Married the Dragon I Killed
Chapter 84
The morning at Count Concilus's estate begins with the military songs of the morning jog.
“Hey! Hey!”
“One-two! One-two! Start the song!”
“Behold, we have arrived!”
“I can’t hear you!”
“Forward! Forward! The final line of defense! There is nowhere left to retreat! Use your wife as a shield and march on today! Forward! Forward! If you become a hero, go find a new wife!”
The morning jog song echoed as it circled the castle once.
Though they ran along the walls every morning, the difficulty varied wildly depending on who was leading the pack.
And among them, Arwen was a stickler for the rules among sticklers, boasting a maximum level of difficulty.
‘Ugh, damn it, he could’ve just let us go after half a lap.’
‘It’s pure agony every time this knight is on duty.’
Not only did they have to sing constantly while running, but between the winding course itself and the extra areas they circled under the guise of "patrols," the total distance easily exceeded two full laps.
“Good work, men! Eat breakfast and prepare for your morning duties!”
“Eh…”
“Where’s that spirit gone? Do you want to run another lap?”
“No, sir!”
“Then dismiss at the speed of light! Anyone I catch does one more lap!”
Terrified of being caught, the soldiers scrambled to disperse.
As Arwen was wiping his sweat with a towel, a gatekeeper approached and offered a salute.
“Loyalty. Officer of the Day, sir. You’ve worked hard.”
“Is something the matter?”
“Well, a knight from Valdroba Castle is here, and he says he wishes to see the Officer of the Day.”
Valdroba Castle.
There were only two knights there.
And only one of them would come looking for him.
Arwen instinctively furrowed his brows.
“Where is he now?”
“Hey, Arwen!”
“No, never mind.”
There was no need to ask; the man was already approaching with a wave of his hand.
Arwen watched the man while wiping his face with the towel.
Brown hair and a rather pretty face.
“It’s been a while, Sir Zed.”
“Yeah, been a while. You doing good?”
“I didn’t expect to see you here. What brings you?”
“Nothing much, really. I just came to ask you to put me through that thing you call knight training.”
“Knight training… you mean?”
Arwen’s eyes widened at the request.
“What, are parachute knights not allowed to do it?”
“It’s not that you’re not allowed. If anything, parachutes need training the most. I just didn't expect you to be the one to ask for it…”
“Tell me about it. I didn’t think I’d be doing this either.”
Zed scratched his head and admitted it matter-of-factly.
Seeing this, Arwen began to feel a genuine sense of concern.
Don’t they say that when a person starts doing things they never did before, they’re about to die?
“Did something happen?”
“You know about the wolf monsters appearing in Halim, right?”
“Yes. I heard the Regent played a major role there. The Empire has been quite abuzz about it.”
There were two main reasons for the stir.
The fact that seven wolf monsters had been summoned inside the city.
And the fact that despite such a crisis, there wasn't a single fatality.
“I heard you were active there as well. They say you toyed with the enemies while buying time, moving like a Sylph?”
“Toyed with them, my foot. I was sweating bullets because one slip meant death.”
“So what’s the problem? Valdroba-nim’s reputation has soared, and didn't you gain a heroic tale to use for wooing women?”
That was the character Arwen had pegged Zed for.
A man who believed being a knight was the best job for lying, and that with one exaggerated tale of bravery, seducing a noble lady was as easy as pie.
“When one of those wolf bastards charged toward the Regent, I blocked its path.”
“It charged the Regent, and you blocked it. And?”
“But I couldn’t stop the damn thing. I hit it once, and my body just went flying. Like a piece of scrap wood.”
Arwen shrugged at that.
“Isn’t that only natural? There aren’t many knights who can withstand a monster's attack head-on.”
“Could you?”
“I could.”
“And that’s the problem. Other people can, but I can’t.”
“I am a carefully selected knight who has undergone formal training, am I not? I shouldn’t be compared to commoners.”
Arwen meant it as a consolation, but Zed only scowled as if he’d asked a pointless question.
“So you’re saying you need the strength to stop an opponent in a head-on confrontation?”
“Even if it’s not a head-on fight, I want to gain something I can actually do in a situation like that.”
“You mean in terms of swordsmanship or self-defense?”
“Yeah.”
“It is something I can teach you, but… how old are you, Zed-ssi?”
“Twenty-seven. Soon to be twenty-eight.”
“Isn’t that a bit late to start training?”
“I’ve been training my body consistently for a long time. I’ve spent a fair amount of time in combat and as a mercenary, too.”
Arwen was well aware that his combat skills were excellent. He had noted his prowess during the mission to rescue the Chancellor of Escoleia.
“It’s not just a matter of physical training. Withstanding an attack from a creature like a monster belongs to the realm of manipulating Aura. That requires years of consistent practice, and you’re already at an age where it’s late to understand and apply such things.”
“You mean this Aura stuff?”
Zed clenched his fist and focused his entire body. A shimmering blue light flickered and surged across the surface of his form.
Arwen was startled by the sight. Though it erupted as unstably as a solar flare, it was unmistakably Aura.
“How are you able to use that?”
“I told you, I lived as a mercenary. You meet all sorts of people out there. So, can you do it? Or not?”
“With some Aura correction and drills, it should be possible. Being able to release Aura means you’re already halfway there.”
Arwen gave a stern warning.
“Even so, it will be difficult. Habits exist, and those habits become several times harder to break as the mind hardens. In the worst-case scenario…”
He paused, emphasizing his seriousness even further.
“You could end up a cripple who can’t even hold a sword.”
Becoming a cripple was a truly miserable end. For those who lived in the present like Zed, the horror of being a living corpse was a fact that could not be overlooked.
“I’ve already braced myself for that.”
Zed replied instantly, as if it were nothing.
“Is it really worth that much?”
“I don’t want to be like that again when the moment comes that I have to protect something.”
Only then did Arwen see what was dwelling in Zed’s eyes. Regret born of helplessness. There was something more than just the fact that he had failed to protect Ferda.
At those words, Arwen smiled.
Zed scowled at the grin.
“What are you smirking at?”
“Nothing. Well then, let’s start with some light physical conditioning.”
“What do you mean, physical conditioning—”
“Let’s just run five laps around the castle and then think about it!”
“Five laps?!”
“You need at least that much stamina to become a knight under Count Concilus. And we can’t have this taking years, can we?”
“No, I guess not, but—”
“Then let’s run.”
Arwen began to run, and Zed followed after him. Arwen thought that perhaps he could become friends with this man.
“Ah, Zed-ssi. Could you help me with something after training?”
“With what?”
“I need to write a letter, but I can’t seem to find the right words with my head. I thought with your skills, you might be able to manage something…”
“What use would my writing be…”
Zed realized midway through his sentence.
“Wait, is it that lady who was sending you those burning gazes during the Grand Council?”
Arwen looked back, his face asking how he knew.
“Yes, well…”
“Talking all that talk about knightly spirit and whatnot, you’re just a man in the end! Since when have you been in touch?”
“A letter came three days ago. She said she liked the way I was serving in the Far East and sent a message like that.”
“So she likes you. I’ll help you as much as you want. Just say the word. I’ll even teach you exactly how I used the wolf monster story to woo women.”
“Yes, well… wait a minute, the wolf monster?”
“Yeah, the wolf monster.”
“Isn’t that a very recent story?”
“That’s right.”
Arwen blinked.
“You had the energy to woo women even while wallowing in such existential agony?”
“Well, uh…”
It wasn’t that Zed particularly wanted to. But there was a reason he had to.
—Why! Why! Why won’t you do it! You said you would! I used my magic, so you promised to let me suck your energy! The harem buffet! You promised!!! Liar! Liar!
He had simply succumbed to the justified demands of Penelope, who had been throwing a tantrum and hitting his head with a pillow.
Not wanting to explain that entire process, Zed answered briefly.
“A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.”
“…”
“You have to eat to live, don’t you?”
“…Ten laps.”
“What? Why?!”
* * *
Stefan had returned. The joy of things having gone well was brief; inside the carriage, his mood turned uneasy again.
The words Ferda had spoken echoed in his ears.
—Then you would have no value.
That he would have no value if he couldn't obtain the Pascal Trading Company.
Was the only reason he had been recruited because Ferda coveted the value of the company?
If he went independent, he could grow sufficiently. It wouldn't just be growth; explosive growth was possible.
Ferda was a Regent who had been in power for less than a year. And his economic knowledge was only skin-deep. There was no way he could know how aggressive and groundbreaking this strategy was. He wouldn't know that it was something that would make the Pascal Company look like a common turnip in a field.
‘What’s the use in saying anything.’
Stefan just wanted to catch his breath. He wanted to sit at his desk and lounge, even if only for a moment.
“Have you returned?”
“Yeah, I’m back. But why is the atmosphere so murderous?”
“That’s because that person has arrived…”
“Me? Just because I’ve come back, you all are acting like—”
“No, not you, Manager…”
Only then did he understand. He knew exactly who could make the atmosphere this tense.
“M-my brother?”
The secretary gave a small nod. Realizing the situation, Stefan also grew tense along with them.
Everything that happened in Halim would have been reported, and he would know exactly what the situation was.
“…Could you tell him I had to go somewhere else?”
“I cannot.”
“No, then at least let me change my clothes before I meet him or something…”
“Manager.”
The secretary grabbed the shoulders of the rambling Stefan.
“You must go.”
Stefan’s heart screamed that he didn’t want to go. He forced his feet toward the stairs. As if opening the door to an execution chamber, he cautiously peered inside.
Sitting at his desk was a familiar, muscular man.
“Stefan, it’s been a while?”
The man offering a greeting like a street thug was Stefan’s older brother, Merchit Pascal.
Stefan’s eyes were drawn to the contours of his biceps, which looked ready to burst through his silk clothes. He swallowed hard.
“It’s been… a long time, Brother.”
“What’s with the ‘Brother’? Call me hyung, you punk. Over a hundred bastards call me ‘Brother,’ so shouldn’t blood relatives be a bit more intimate?”
“…No, Brother. How could I…”
“Frustrating little brat.”
Merchit grinned as he spoke to him.
“I heard you went to Halim?”
“Yes.”
“For what reason?”
“An exhibition was scheduled for the Far East, so I provided support for it.”
“Wasn't that a place Father told us to wash our hands of? You’re still hanging onto it?”
“Yes. I supported it because it has sufficient business value.”
“So you’re saying your eye for business is better than Father’s?”
“How could I ever insult Father…”
“This punk still has no backbone. Just speak your mind. Stop being so frustrating, man!”
Merchit slammed his hand on the desk. The desk, which hadn't budged even under mountains of paperwork, cracked under that single blow.
Merchit looked down at the crack and scratched his head.
“Ah, damn, I hit it too hard. I’ll pay you back later. Anyway, I’ve heard it all, punk. I hear you even opened up trade with Lord Ahmed there?”
“Yes.”
“You know that’s a place I’ve been putting a lot of effort into, right?”
“Yes, I know.”
“Did you do that knowing full well your hyung is conquering the South? You just decided to gulp it down? That prime cut of meat?”
Stefan scrambled to explain.
“It wasn't intentional.”
“You knew, and yet you ate it.”
“I had no reason to refuse. Above all, this deal was led and successfully concluded by Regent Ferda-nim.”
“Right, so since I was just standing by with my hands behind my back, I have nothing to do with it?”
“It’s not that you have nothing to do with it, but…”
His voice trailed off. Merchit looked at him with a dissatisfied face and let out a sigh.
“Well, what can I do? It’s not right for family to try and devour each other too much.”
Was that how the conversation would end? Unfortunately, that wish was not granted.
“Hyung doesn’t ask for much. You just need to let me share in the trade of goods moving through Halim. That much is fine, right?”
“Do you mean… you want it to be under joint names?”
“Yeah. We’re one family doing one business anyway, so you can do that much, can’t you?”
The path through Halim was a path to a gold mine. Even if the two of them shared it, they could easily sit on a mountain of gold. In exchange for backing off a little, for yielding a little.
However.
For some reason, the current Stefan did not want to do that.
“That is…”
Stefan opened his mouth. What came out was the first shot announcing a war.
“It is my business.”
Merchit’s face froze completely.
“Hey, Stefan.”
“Yes.”
“Are you saying right now that you won’t even lend your hyung a road or give him a carriage?”
It was as if a tiger were glaring at him. Stefan’s legs began to tremble. Merchit never hesitated to use violence. And once violence began, it wouldn't end until something was broken. Since Stefan had always been the target, he had a great fear of that pain.
Yet, something even greater than that fear was.
‘Losing trust…’
The trust of Ferda, who had believed in him as a merchant without question or doubt. He had already disappointed him once by withdrawing from the succession struggle.
Back then, Ferda had said this:
A merchant who gives up and compromises even on what they originally held is not the kind of merchant the Archduke's territory needs. That is what common, ordinary merchants do.
Compromise. Compromise is a good tool for mediating conflict. However, Stefan finally realized what the 'compromise' Ferda spoke of truly meant.
It was exactly this. Like a camel that first pokes its head in and eventually takes over the entire tent. Things that do not stop until they have snatched everything away.
Stefan could no longer disappoint the one who believed in him.
‘And I can’t disappoint myself either…’
Therefore, he took a step forward.
“The Halim matter… I will have the monopoly.”
“…”
Merchit rose from his seat. He was terrifying enough while sitting, but his stature was threatening when he stood up. Fear enveloped Stefan, making him feel as though a fist would plunge into his stomach at any moment.
“Fine. If that’s your will, I’ll take it as such.”
“…”
“But since you aren’t considering our circumstances, I won’t be considering yours anymore either.”
Merchit patted Stefan’s shoulder as he passed by him.
“Let’s see just how well you can eat and live without me.”
With that, Merchit walked out. No sooner had he realized that a storm had passed than the strength left Stefan’s legs. It was the first time. The first time he had stood up to his terrifying, seemingly invincible hyung.
“Whew…”
Ferda had promised to make Stefan the master of the Pascal Trading Company. What was needed to become the master? Herman Pascal’s seal of approval? Or more money and connections than them?
What was needed most was,
‘Having the heart of a master.’
The ability to protect what is mine. To be able to assert one’s rights without yielding to external pressure.
That was why Stefan forced the words out.
“I did the right thing.”
Even if that choice had created a path leading into a painful bed of thorns… or so he thought.
