Chapter 542
At Ian’s subtle nod, the attendants slid the doors open to the sides. Instantly, the sharp scent of blood hit the air. Akorella, who had been casually perched on the edge of a table, spotted Ian and waved cheerfully.
“Oh! You’re here?”
She had a cigarette dangling from her lips, her leg tapping rhythmically—her posture more like some street thug hanging out in a back-alley tavern than a court official. Romandro, who had come in with Ian, shot her a disapproving look.
“Why are you sitting like that?”
“Ugh, don’t even ask. I’m exhausted. How did the coronation go? Is it over? Looks like people are starting to leave.”
“They’ve mostly wrapped up. His Majesty has retired to his chambers.”
“Oh, ‘His Majesty,’ huh? That really makes it feel official.”
“And what about Lepin? You didn’t kill him, right?”
“Of course not. I’m no amateur. Though he looks almost dead, he’s still breathing. Over there.”
Akorella flicked her cigarette and pointed toward the bed. Lepin lay there, utterly drained, like a corpse. Dried blood stained the corners of his mouth, and on closer inspection, a few of his front teeth were missing.
Romandro gasped and turned to Akorella, who shrugged as if to say, “Not my fault.”
“That wasn’t me. He just lost it on his own, fell down, and broke his teeth.”
Whether that was true or not was anyone’s guess.
Romandro carefully lifted Lepin’s upper lip to inspect the wound, while Ian picked up a report lying on the table. It detailed the torture—or rather, the interrogation—in vivid detail.
“So, what did he say?”
“In my opinion, it’d be best to grill the others the same way. He’s been spouting so much nonsense, it’s hard to trust anything.”
She paused to gather her thoughts, then exhaled a plume of smoke toward Lepin.
“There are about fifty illegally crossbred dragons.”
“What? I thought Luswena officially manages only around fifteen.”
“Yes. Ten years ago, during the Haiman incident, we expected only a handful. But the numbers are surprisingly high. It seems the authorities actively pushed the breeding program. According to that bastard Lepin, the person in charge is a distant relative.”
“Wait a minute. How many suits of black armor can you make from one dragon? Ian, do you know?”
Ian hesitated briefly, then nodded, recalling a previous report.
Actually, the exact number per dragon wasn’t the main issue—they had ten years.
“Depending on the dragon’s size and manufacturing method, roughly ten suits of black armor can be produced per dragon annually. With fifty dragons, that’s five hundred suits a year. Over ten years, that’s five thousand suits.”
“Five thousand black armors…”
Romandro vividly remembered their power. During the civil war, the captain of the palace guard died because of them, and both Viviana and Beric barely escaped death.
Ian added quietly, “Assuming it takes a year for a dragon’s scales to regenerate, that’s about five thousand suits. If the regeneration cycle shortens to a few months, the number would increase even more.”
“This is… a huge problem. Even the palace guard captains couldn’t face those armors lightly. And if there are thousands ready… ugh.”
“This is serious! Serious trouble!”
Romandro clutched his temples in despair. Akorella pulled out another cigarette, signaling him to calm down and listen—this wasn’t over yet.
“There’s an even bigger problem.”
“More? What else is there?”
“Sometimes, during crossbreeding, dragons awaken lethal abilities. Like ‘Kyu.’”
“Kyu? Like Kyu?”
“But no one really knew Kyu was one of those. They just fed him scraps from other dragons shedding their scales, expecting him to die off. It’s a total mess for Luswena.”
Ian read through Akorella’s report and asked softly, “How likely is it that they’ll deploy those dragons in war?”
“Quite likely. I think Bariel planned to use Kyu as propaganda, and Luswena intended to bring dragons into the conflict as a pretext.”
“Wait! So Luswena anticipated our reaction?”
“They even considered that we might exploit the loophole in the treaty about Kyu not being a purebred dragon. But they assumed only they had dragons with lethal abilities, and we didn’t. That plan fell apart because of Kyu.”
“Ian! If that’s the case, we can’t bring dragons to the battlefield.”
Ian shook his head slowly.
Luswena was already planning to deploy dragons with lethal powers, including the black armor units. Whether Kyu was there or not, dragons designed for killing would inevitably be sent in, depending on how the tide of battle turned.
“This is a matter of Luswena’s national fate. If things go south, they’ll use every trick to turn the tide. Without mages, Luswena can’t afford to give up such weapons.”
“Oh no, what about our soldiers? This is really bad.”
On the ground, black armor; in the sky, dragons running rampant. Ian carefully folded Akorella’s report and tucked it into his pocket, then gestured to leave quickly.
“Romandro, we need to meet with the palace guard captains. We have to discuss the black armor situation.”
“Right. I’ll send word immediately.”
“Akorella, finish up here and take charge of the other Luswena envoys.”
“Yes, sir.”
Akorella playfully placed a hand over her chest in salute.
“But aren’t we leaving tomorrow? We’re moving with His Majesty, right?”
“That’s right.”
“Oh. So get everything wrapped up by then? Got it. I almost let my guard down for a moment. I’ll get back to writing the report right away.”
“Akorella.”
“Yes?”
Ian paused as he was about to step outside and looked back at her, just to remind her once more.
“Make sure to bring plenty of mana amplifiers and healing potions.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got enough to last me until I drop dead.”
The coronation had drained the mages’ stamina. For the next few days, they’d likely just rest and recover while riding in the procession.
Akorella made a reassuring circle with her finger. Once Ian and Romandro left, she finished off her cigarette and stood up.
“All right then—”
She stretched out her arms. Though she wobbled briefly from a twisted ankle, she called out cheerfully.
“Let’s bring in the next batch of Luswena test subjects!”
“Yes, I’ll fetch them right away.”
“Alive and kicking. Perfect!”
After the experiments, side effects had surprisingly improved. The problem had always been finding suitable subjects—everyone was too precious to risk, always running away!
“Oh, there was a mage too. What should we do about him?”
“A mage? Ah.”
“Did they say anything?”
“No, no special instructions.”
“Too bad.”
Though affiliated with Luswena, a mage was still a mage—connected by divine favor. The Luswena naturalized mages, led by Zaira, had tried to persuade him but apparently failed. Akorella ruffled her hair in genuine regret.
“Tsk tsk, bring him along. In a way, this is good. It’s been a while since we’ve dealt with a mage.”
“Yes, understood.”
The attendants hurried off, and Akorella stared quietly at Lepin sprawled on the bed. She smiled briefly, then grabbed his mustache with all her might and yanked it, shouting.
“Get up! Stop lying around like a corpse!”
Night had fallen. A night that had come after a long time.
Everyone in the palace felt the weight of the coronation’s end and looked up at the sky. The endless daylight of the white night was wondrous and surreal, but the night that finally followed the long day was equally magnificent and beautiful.
Tap tap tap!
Screech!
Ian’s carriage arrived in front of the palace’s main building.
Jin’s quarters had moved from the Crown Prince’s palace to the main palace, and the palace guard had always been nearby. Ian naturally climbed the stairs and entered.
“Is His Majesty resting?”
“He’s been awake for nearly two days straight.”
“Then let’s meet Captain Jaret first.”
“Yes, I’ll show you the way.”
The attendant in charge of the main palace bowed slightly and led the way.
Tomorrow, the emperor would leave the palace and head to the battlefield. Everyone was busy preparing for departure.
The palace guards were gathered not in the training grounds but inside the main building, a clear sign. They were spending their last night in the palace, busy with their own preparations.
“Oh, isn’t that Minister Ian Hielo? Hello.”
“Yes. Thanks for your hard work.”
“Here to see Beric? He’s getting punished out back right now.”
“…No, I’m here to see Captain Jaret.”
“Is that so? You’ll have to go that way anyway. The captains are all there. I’ll guide you from here.”
The guard signaled to the palace attendant to take over, and the two followed him. Romandro, who had been watching quietly, couldn’t hold back and spoke up.
“By the way, why are they being punished today?”
“Oh, Captain Jaret was sparring lightly earlier. They agreed not to use weapons, but he drew his sword first. He got his head cracked and ended up face-planting.”
“Hah! Honestly, with this happening almost every day, I’m about ready to lose my mind. If getting punished was a job, Beric here would be a model employee.”
“Hahaha, that’s true. He got scolded pretty hard just the other day, didn’t he?”
“That dragon incident… yeah. I swear, watching it up close, I thought he was going to faint and die.”
In the distance, Beric was indeed face-down on the ground. Around him, the squad members were casually gathered, polishing their swords and adjusting their armor, fully focused on preparing for deployment.
“Captain! The Minister of Magic has arrived.”
“Busy?”
“No, not really. Just a bit frazzled thanks to one crazy mutt.”
“Iaaaaan!”
Jaret glanced sideways at Beric, who was still face-down, only his eyes rolling around, and muttered under his breath. Ian just smiled faintly, ignoring him.
“Please, have a seat. Congratulations on the coronation.”
“Thank you. Everyone worked hard.”
“So, what brings you here?”
“We just received intel through the Luswena faction. It concerns the Black Armored—apparently, their numbers are quite significant.”
Ian slid a report from Akorella across the table. The mention of ‘Black Armored’ made Jaret react instinctively. He rubbed his chin, looking troubled.
“Five thousand.”
“You, Captain Jaret, know better than anyone that regular soldiers can’t handle them.”
“Yes, I’m well aware. How could I forget?”
“Our only option is to rely on mages and magic swordsmen to hold them back. If you have any suggestions, we came to hear them. We won’t face them tomorrow, but once they cross the border, we don’t know when we’ll run into them.”
“From previous experience, when six of my men and I strike together, we can break their helmets. We haven’t slacked on training, but if the Black Armored have improved since then, that changes things—”
“The dragon we captured was badly injured. If the quality of the supplies is declining, it’s likely the Black Armored’s armor quality is dropping too. But yes, I can’t say for sure until I see it myself.”
“The captured dragon? You mean the one Beric rides? Does it have a name? The Ministry of Magic is in charge of it, and I was going to suggest something. Unlike mages skilled in flight, magic swordsmen have limits when it comes to leaping—”
“It’s called ‘Kyu,’ apparently.”
“Pardon?”
Jaret asked in surprise just as Beric suddenly lifted his head to look at Ian. The palace guards passing by did the same.
“Akorella named it that, it seems.”
“Oh, uh… right…”
“Iaaaan! What did you just say? What’s its name again?”
“…Kyu?”
Ian turned to Beric, raising an eyebrow as if asking, ‘Are you serious?’
Beric clutched his stomach and rolled over, while the palace guards pretended not to hear and kept walking. Romandro covered his mouth with his hand, frozen in place.
“Iaan, what was that? Kyu? Kyuu?”
“…”
“Damn it, I never thought I’d see the day when he’s making ‘kyu-kyu’ sounds! Oh man, I’m done for! I can die happy now! Hahaha!”
“…”
Ian realized Beric was teasing him, then broke into a bright smile and tossed a small stone at him.
“Huh?”
“Keep going. Carry on, Beric.”
“What’s this for?”
Beric looked back and forth between the stone and Ian, clearly confused. Romandro, trying to hold back laughter, explained.
“Beric, don’t bury your head in the ground—aim for the stone instead. Yeah, put your heart into it. Give it your all.”
Ugh, seriously, you’ve got to read the room sometimes!