Chapter 7
‘I am curious as well.’
Ferda had been studying in the guest room when Luri approached him.
He looked as though he might have misheard her and asked,
“You want me to meet the lords?”
“Yes.”
Luri nodded.
“……”
The Black Dragon Godwin.
The embodiment of darkness and the source of all evil.
He was a being of pure, genuine evil who desired chaos throughout the continent and had even contributed to the birth of the Demon King.
The one who had dealt the decisive blow that ended his life was the Red Dragon Valdrova.
“I heard that she earned the title of Dread Queen for that achievement and now rules a territory near the Far Eastern Front.”
“That is correct. You are more knowledgeable than you appear. Do you know how many territories there are?”
“Was it not fifteen?”
“…And their total population?”
“I believe it was five million, two hundred fifty-six thousand, five hundred and thirty-two. Of course, I have no way of knowing the latest births and deaths.”
After hearing even that answer, Luri openly frowned.
“You certainly know a great deal for someone who claims to have no interest in power.”
Her disgust carried a faint trace of Dragon Fear.
Ferda merely shrugged.
“Knowledge and interest are two different things.”
Naturally, Luri did not believe him.
Her suspicions, which had already made her regard him as dangerous, only grew closer to certainty.
In truth, Ferda had not studied those matters for such a reason.
‘I was simply bored.’
After forming his Circle, he had far too little to do.
His days had become unbearably leisurely.
There was no need to waste time studying things he already knew, so he had begun looking into stories and information concerning Valdrova.
“In any case, how about meeting them?”
“I have no interest. Unless it is absolutely necessary, I would rather not go.”
“Even if you are uninterested, once you marry Master, you will officially become her consort. You will have to oversee the internal affairs of the territory.”
“So I will become the lady of the household.”
“Yes.”
A man becoming the lady of the household.
That implied that the man was less capable than the woman.
Within noble society, it was humiliating enough to be considered shameful.
‘But this is hardly something to feel humiliated about.’
He would become the spouse of Valdrova, the dragon known as the Tyrant.
When her entire species existed on another level, the current Ferda had no power to stand as her equal.
Even so, merely becoming her spouse and managing the household was already an extraordinary responsibility.
‘So I will have to manage the lords…’
After considering it for a while, Ferda gave his answer.
“Very well. I will meet them.”
“Then I shall summon them.”
Luri bowed politely and departed.
Ferda had always possessed a keen eye, and he had noticed that there was something unusual about Luri’s gaze until the very end.
He had already understood her intentions.
‘As expected, she does not trust me.’
The sight of treasure awakens desire.
Even a fundamentally good person might wish to grasp power when it was placed directly before them.
And once someone obtained authority, they would never willingly relinquish it.
That was human nature.
‘But I am curious as well.’
Just as Ferda did not fully understand Luri, he did not fully understand himself either.
What choice would he make in a situation like this when he was no longer consumed by vengeance?
That was why he had decided to test himself.
He wanted to see what choice he would make within the trial she had prepared for him.
“Very well. Let us meet them.”
There was an old joke concerning the nobles of the Serdes Continent.
The farther one traveled from the capital, the more “local fat” the nobles supposedly lost.
Nobles near the center were generally plump, while those on the front lines tended to remain lean.
After all, their circumstances gave them no opportunity to gain weight.
However, the lords of the Far East looked nothing like the nobles described in that joke.
“Lord Bosch! Your belly has grown considerably!”
“Hoho! Has it really?”
At the headquarters of the Far Eastern Front Alliance, fifteen lords had gathered in one place, their double chins jiggling as they spoke.
It had been a very long time since all of them had assembled together.
“But why were we summoned so suddenly? There should not be any urgent matters…”
“You cannot afford to remain so ignorant of worldly affairs. Did you not hear? We have been ordered to meet the Dread Queen’s fiancé.”
“Her fiancé?”
A lord who was hearing the news for the first time reacted in shock.
“What madman in this world would become engaged to the Dread Queen?”
“It seems they found some complete fool.”
At the same time, they began wondering who had been foolish enough to accept.
“I heard that fool is the third son of House Rosnova.”
“A family of knights!”
“But apparently the third son is nothing like the others. I heard that he is weak even compared to ordinary soldiers, never mind the members of other knightly families.”
“If he is weaker than an ordinary soldier, then is he not genuinely defective?”
“Well…”
The elderly lords wore disgruntled expressions.
The thought of someone so young arriving and acting arrogantly was enough to make their tempers flare.
“So what do you all intend to do?”
“What do you mean?”
“If he is to become the Dread Queen’s consort…”
The oldest lord answered,
“He is destined to be torn apart by Dread Queen Valdrova sooner or later. Why should we bother bowing our heads to him?”
“Precisely.”
“What reason would we have to lower our heads?”
The atmosphere suggested that they were all in agreement.
“Lord Ferda Rosnova is entering!”
Everyone adjusted their clothing and adopted solemn, dignified expressions.
They were lords who governed the inhabitants of the front lines.
They intended to crush the confidence of this upstart from the very beginning.
At the gatekeeper’s announcement, the doors to the council chamber opened.
Gray hair and blue eyes.
Befitting the future consort of Dread Queen Valdrova, Ferda wore formal red attire embroidered in gold with Valdrova’s crest.
That much they had heard about and could have anticipated.
What exceeded their expectations was the impression Ferda himself gave them.
‘They called him defective…’
‘He is an awfully dignified and intelligent-looking defective man.’
His body might have been considered frail compared to those from a warrior family, but his every step revealed deeply ingrained etiquette and refinement.
However, what left the strongest impression on all of them was his gaze.
It was not the insolent stare of a child filled with adolescent defiance.
His eyes seemed to contain a perfectly still lake.
His appearance and atmosphere were so mismatched with his age that the lords instinctively tensed.
Ferda parted his lips.
“Speak.”
His voice belonged to a young man who had only recently left adolescence behind.
He continued,
“Before long, I will become the consort of Dread Queen Valdrova.”
Ferda clasped his hands behind his back.
His blue eyes slowly swept over each of them in turn.
It was an outrageously disrespectful gesture, yet not one of them opened his mouth.
They could not.
‘How can someone so young possess eyes like those…?’
‘Just what is this man?’
It felt as though they were facing a wild beast.
Without exception, they found themselves incapable of resisting and were overwhelmed by his gaze.
Only after confronting him directly did they finally realize it.
“Then should I speak respectfully to you, or should I speak down to you?”
The complete fool who had agreed to become engaged to Valdrova was no defective product.
About thirty minutes earlier, Ferda had arrived at the headquarters of the Far Eastern Front Alliance.
Since he was traveling on official business, he had come by carriage.
Ferda checked the time.
“We are quite late.”
Ferda was strict when it came to punctuality.
Even being one minute late irritated him, so arriving ten minutes late was practically a grave offense.
However, Luri, who was responsible for the delay, answered in a businesslike tone.
“You truly know nothing. Arriving ten minutes late is the most basic way to seize the initiative.”
“Is that really necessary?”
“It is fundamental etiquette among dragons and the most important moment for establishing the hierarchy.”
“Even when I have no interest in such things?”
“Never forget whose consort you are going to become.”
Valdrova’s consort.
The words instinctively echoed in his mind.
Luri followed one step behind him as they walked.
While proceeding along the red carpet, Ferda suddenly became curious.
‘Once I become Dread Queen Valdrova’s consort, where exactly will I stand in the hierarchy?’
The world of nobles was complicated in its own way.
Among the nobles of the central regions, rank generally followed official position.
However, in the borderlands, where the sword held greater authority than the law, those who had served for many years were treated with greater respect.
‘As her consort, I will officially hold a position no different from that of a king, but that alone will not be enough…’
Ferda was currently eighteen years old.
In other words, he appeared young and inexperienced.
If a fiancé who had suddenly appeared began acting like a king without warning, the lords were certain to resist.
As he continued walking, Ferda reached the entrance to the council chamber.
He saw fifteen seats arranged in a circle.
The seat directly opposite the entrance was vacant.
It belonged to Valdrova.
In other words, it would become Ferda’s seat.
Instead of walking toward it, Ferda remained standing in the center and looked up at each of the lords in turn.
“…”
It was a genuinely sincere question.
“Then should I speak respectfully to you, or should I speak down to you?”
Ferda looked around.
Every lord stared down at him with a tense expression.
They exchanged glances and hesitated to answer.
Ferda scratched his head.
“Hmm. Was my question difficult?”
“N-No…”
“That is…”
The reason they could not answer was simple.
The moment they said he should speak respectfully or speak down to them, they would establish which side of the hierarchy they stood on.
Who could have imagined that the young fiancé would begin by forcing them to define the pecking order?
The oldest lord spoke first.
“We are lords who dwell beneath the light of Dread Queen Valdrova. It would only be right for us to show respect to the one who will become her consort.”
“Is that so?”
“However, we are also men who have guarded the Far Eastern Front for many years.”
It sounded like an answer, but in the end, he had merely pushed the question back onto Ferda by implying that everything depended on how Ferda conducted himself.
After listening, Ferda asked him,
“What is your name?”
“Ulvera Consillus.”
“I see. Count Consillus, then? May I call you that?”
“Yes.”
The elderly lord smiled faintly and inclined his head.
“So?”
“Pardon?”
“So should I speak respectfully to you or speak down to you? You have not answered my question at all.”
Ferda narrowed his eyes and stared at him.
With an uncomfortable expression, the elderly lord answered again.
“It would be proper for you to speak down to us.”
“I see. That answers my question, Count Consillus. You would have preferred me to clarify that from the beginning, would you not?”
“N-Now that you have stated it so clearly, nothing could be better.”
Although this was Ferda’s first experience with politics, he understood the present situation well enough.
He had seized the initiative over the lords.
‘I had no intention of making them submit.’
Feeling that he should explain himself, Ferda addressed them.
“Do not worry. I doubt much will change simply because I become the Dread Queen’s consort. Continue governing as you see fit—whether that means exploiting your people or showing them mercy.”
A man abruptly rose from his seat, unable to let Ferda’s words pass.
He appeared to be in his mid-twenties and had a fierce countenance.
He was relatively young and wore the insignia of a mage on his chest.
Upon hearing his response, Ferda thought,
‘I misspoke.’
“I meant no malice. The words simply came out that way.”
“You insolent young fiancé!”
“W-Wait!”
“H-How can you speak to him like that?!”
The elderly, overweight lords broke into a cold sweat as they tried to restrain him.
Everyone held their breath as though watching a candle placed beside a fuse.
“Hmm…”
Ferda was not particularly angered by the man’s rudeness.
Instead, his words merely raised a question in Ferda’s mind.
‘Can I defeat that man?’
Now that he had awakened as a mage, Ferda could see mana with his own eyes.
The amount of mana possessed by the man called Thessalos was anything but ordinary.
Ferda tapped his temple with his index finger as he thought, then asked,
“What is your name?”
“Thessalos of House Wolcher!”
Ferda turned the name over in his mind.
Thessalos Wolcher…
He felt as though he had heard it somewhere before.
It was not important at the moment, so he set the thought aside.
“What Circle have you reached?”
“The Fourth Circle. I am a mage capable of using spells of the fourth tier.”
“…Adequate.”
“…Adequate?”
◇
As a Fourth-Circle mage, Thessalos found the remark absurd.
A mage who had reached the Fourth Circle would be treated as a valuable figure wherever he went.
‘Consort or not, should I just kill him?’
Thessalos felt his blood beginning to boil.
Had Ferda not been the Dread Queen’s future consort, he would already have cursed him to his face and launched a spell at him.
“You have caught my interest. May I ask you for one favor?”
“You still want something from me after displaying such an insolent attitude?!”
His face flushed red.
Seeing that expression, Ferda nodded.
“You will probably enjoy it as well. Spar with me.”
He had trained enough.
Now it was time to experience an actual battle.