Chapter 241 - Odograsado the Golden Dragon

The end of a bloody war was always sweet, one way or another. Armies might ease the burdens of war by taking a castle's treasures as spoils and feasting on someone else's grain and livestock before disbanding.

But this war was different. At its end, only hardship remained.

"Move! Quickly!"

"There's no time to rest! The faster you move, the sooner we can go home!"

The knights gave orders with faces that looked as though they were still in battle. Ordinarily, half the troops would have been sent home while the rest handled the aftermath. They could not even manage that much because of the enormity of what had happened. Even the knights who should have been commanding were taking part in the hard labor.

Their king was dead. The king who had charged so bravely into enemy territory had died inside the castle.

A king was the symbol of his nation. His remains had to be recovered. Failing that, they had to retrieve even a single finger, even a speck of dust. United by this common goal, the coalition nations were working together to excavate the ruins.

"O-over there!"

Amid that desperate scene, someone pointed toward the ridge. People were coming over it, in numbers large enough to constitute a great army.

"Those bastards... Don't tell me they've come to steal the feast we've laid out?"

"Look at them flocking over at the first word of a feast..."

"It's a funeral, not a feast..."

Such things were common in war. But their unease was short-lived. They relaxed when they saw the emblem on the banner at the edge of the ridge.

That banner shone resplendently, as though declaring that it would never fall to corruption even if the entire world did. It was the flag of the Odograsado Holy State.

The newcomers arrived with a vast workforce, and those in charge gathered to welcome them.

"We are the Odograsado Relief Knights. I am Leo, commander of the Relief Knights and an acolyte. We come under orders from His Holiness Gregorio to be of service to you."

"We were just in need of more hands. We are most grateful to the Holy State for sending us its golden grace."

The knights welcomed them, but the priests were less pleased. They knew perfectly well what the newcomers intended. Converting soldiers by offering charity in their hour of need was a time-honored method of proselytizing.

Still, no one dared refuse or object. Hadn't they won the battle, only to find themselves clearing rocks instead of going home?

Had an ordinary soldier died, they would have left him to rot. Had it been a knight, they would have given it some thought before abandoning him. But these were kings. The Arken Empire had lost the highly favored Count Ruster and its Second Prince, Ureas Arken.

Even if the bodies lay at the gates of Hell, they would have had to risk death to retrieve them. They were in no position to judge whether an offered hand was dirty or clean.

The Holy State's Relief Knights healed the wounded, distributed supplies, and provided the much-needed manpower.

Their commander, the middle-aged man named Leo who had introduced himself as an acolyte, went elsewhere. His destination was the camp of King Heodret's army within the coalition.

As commander-in-chief of the coalition, Heodret was directing the recovery of the kings' bodies from the rubble. He was so full of energy that it was hard to believe he had slept only three hours after fighting through so many fierce battles.

He glanced at the man entering his tent. An erect back, fierce eyes, and a face that looked incapable of making a single joke. Heodret greeted him warmly.

"Welcome, Acolyte."

"It is good to see you, Your Majesty."

"Is His Holiness well?"

"Is he not a living embodiment of miracles, blessed by the golden light? He is as hale as ever."

"It must be hard on you, waiting on that old man for decades."

"I do not mind."

"I've heard the news. I was deeply moved to learn that the Holy State was sending us such support."

"Providing direct assistance in battle runs counter to the will of His Holiness, and beyond him, the great Golden Dragon. The aftermath is another matter."

"Is that so?"

Heodret did not like that answer. Nevertheless, he forced a smile and let it pass.

"Very well. I leave the work in your hands."

"Of course. But before that..."

Leo did not seem ready to leave just yet.

"Would you kindly return it?"

"Return what?" Heodret played innocent.

"The Golden Grace."

"The Golden Grace?"

"..."

"Ah, you mean Lord Odograsado's scale." Heodret scratched his head as though embarrassed.

"I lost it."

"..."

"Things go missing in a fight, don't they?"

"You would have had to embed it in your body to use it. Could it really be lost so easily?"

"Someone might have tried to gouge it out of my hand, mightn't they?"

"His Holiness ordered me to recover it by any means necessary. The Golden Grace is something even members of our Order cannot use. Simply claiming to have lost it will not suffice."

"How can you recover something I don't have? There's no reasoning with you."

Leo demanded it back, while Heodret all but dared him to do his worst.

"Commander, we need you for a moment."

"What is it?"

"There's a matter we need to coordinate with the priests regarding the healing efforts. It involves religious protocol. I think you're the only one who can sort it out..."

What extraordinary timing. Looking at Heodret's insolent face, Leo wanted to stand his ground, but his responsibilities would not allow it.

"... This conversation is not over. I will return later."

"Please do."

Leo left the tent. Heodret smiled mischievously, wondering whether he should run away right now.

After Leo stepped outside, another member of the Relief Knights entered the tent.

"Greetings, Your Majesty."

"What is it?"

"Your order has arrived, and I've come to deliver it. It was..." He checked the order slip again. "One hundred kilograms of ham, delivered in an oak barrel, correct?"

"... Yes, that's right."

"Where should I put it?"

"Bring it in here."

"Very well."

The soldier rolled the oak barrel over and set it beside King Heodret.

"I'll be going, then."

The oak barrel stood before him. The scent of wood and the faint aroma of cured meat tantalized his taste buds.

"This looks like some truly delicious ham."

After tapping the barrel with his forefinger, he reached for his waist.

"Shall we open it?"

Heodret drew his sword and slipped it between the barrel's wooden staves. The barrel gave a sudden jolt, and a lilting laugh floated out.

"Who in the world opens an oak barrel like that?"

It was a girl's nasal voice. Heodret chuckled at the sound and answered.

"It seems the ham has gone bad. It's talking, after all."

"What sort of ham would the Holy State send? Why, ham of unsurpassed holiness. It doesn't merely fill your belly; it imparts wisdom as well. How holy is that?"

"If it's holy ham, a blade won't cut it. How am I supposed to eat it?"

"Heh-heh. Despite appearances, this body is frail, child. Give me a good poke with that, and I'll jump out crying 'ouch.'"

"May I try?"

"Ha-ha, you impious thing. Go on, then."

Heodret unleashed his aura and thrust with all his might. The sword plunged deep. Then the barrel's lid shot into the air, and something sprang out.

"Oww!"

It was the most pathetic scream Heodret had ever heard. Its source was a girl small enough to hide comfortably inside the barrel, with rich golden hair and lovely features.

She was certainly not someone who belonged stored in an oak barrel, wearing a dark robe and reeking of ham. No, she was someone who must never be found in one. Who in the world would believe a dragon had been hiding among the ham?

Her pair of golden horns, deeper and darker in color than her hair, looked exactly like the emblem on the flags of the Odograsado Holy State. This girl was none other than Odograsado, the Golden Dragon.

"This damned brat stuck a sword into me! My side hurts so much I could die! Ha-ha-ha!"

The girl rubbed her side, though naturally there was not so much as a scratch on her. Instead, the sword had bent and become lodged in the barrel. Heodret frowned and glared at her.

"You'll have to pay for that sword."

"Don't be so stingy. Aren't your storerooms overflowing with swords like that?"

"That was the sword I swore to carry along my path of conquest. It has that much value to me."

"Pahaha! Nothing for it, then. Very well, I'll have a sword prepared for you."

Heodret grinned where she could not see. But however clever one might be, there was always someone cleverer.

"Which means I, too, must have something returned to me."

The girl gestured into the air. A pile of baggage shuddered, then something burst sharply through it and flew into her hand.

It was a golden scale—the very object Heodret had been arguing he did not possess just minutes earlier. He smacked his lips.

"You must have tens of thousands of those scales. Can't you spare just one?"

"Haha! And wasn't that merely one of your countless swords? Couldn't you have spared just one?"

"I didn't think that through."

"You should have been more generous, you silly thing."

The girl burst into nasal laughter, while the middle-aged man gave an incredulous chuckle. Odograsado lightly held the scale to the back of her head. Its light faded, then began to glow softly amid her hair.

"So you've snuck all the way here, when you should be in the Holy State, because you were afraid I'd make off with your scale?"

"Do you think I'd go to all that trouble? Crouching inside that cramped barrel was no small ordeal, you know. Oh, my aching bones."

"Then why?"

She arched her back and answered with a little smile.

"I've come to see my little one's fiancé."

"My boy is back at the castle, studying hard."

"Haha, how amusing. I'm not talking about your little one."

The languid-looking girl pointed a thumb at herself and declared proudly, "Mine."

Odograsado's little one. Heodret's ties with her ran deep, yet this was the first he had heard of her having a child. She looked more like a child herself. Who else could there be?

'And on a battlefield like this...'

Before Heodret could arrive at any conclusion, Odograsado pulled her hood over her head and started walking. He fell into step behind her.

"Where are you going, reeking of ham like that?"

"I'm going alone. Don't follow me."

"The great Golden Dragon is making an appearance. Shouldn't I serve as your palanquin?"

"Pahaha! That's quite enough, you! A hulking fellow like you carrying me would only draw attention!"

Odograsado walked on, chuckling. Heodret watched her go in silence. After some thought, he realized where she was headed.

"Her little one..."

The woman she called her little one might be small to Odograsado, but to Heodret, she was an all too immense presence.

* * *

Ferda opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was the tent ceiling. Then Luri. Sensing him stir, she was leaning over him.

"Luri..."

"You're awake?"

"Yes."

"..."

She started to speak, then stopped. From the way her lips had begun forming the question, she had surely meant to ask how he felt. Ferda knew perfectly well why she could not bring herself to ask even that simple question.

Unable to turn his head, he tried moving his right hand, clinging to a faint hope. He felt nothing there. It had been tightly wrapped in cloth, and painkillers had left it completely numb.

Heodret could not have been the one to administer that first aid. Ferda looked quietly at her. Just as he was about to speak, she beat him to it.

"Do you know what happened?"

In the end, Ferda closed his mouth and shook his head.

"The citadel collapsed, and so did the entire outer castle. But the victory celebrations did not last."

"Right. All the kings died..."

The coalition had lost five kings. Four had stabbed one another to death, and one had died at Ureas's hands. Ruster had then tried to kill Ureas, only for Ureas to kill him instead, before ultimately dying himself.

Whatever the sequence of events, no leaders had survived apart from Ferda and King Heodret.

Just before the castle crumbled, King Heodret had thrown Ferda to Luri. She had caught him and fled the scene at the greatest speed she could muster.

"Sir Zed and Sir Arwen, who followed me inside, also escaped safely."

"What were they doing?"

"They helped kill and weaken the demonic creatures in the castle."

"They did everything they could."

Ferda was relieved that none of those close to him had died. Luri continued her account.

"There was also a brief bout of infighting."

"Infighting...?"

"Not all the kings died. Some returned alive. Wouldn't that look suspicious?"

The senior commanders already knew what plans the kings had made. Since everyone who had sought sole possession of the book was dead, they must have assumed either Ferda or Heodret had killed them.

"So what did you do?"

"King Heodret resolved it."

"How?"

Apparently, these had been his exact words.

["I killed them all."]

He had reportedly admitted to killing the kings with the utmost confidence.

["They were all seduced by dark magic and intended to turn their kingdoms into another Heinkel Kingdom, so I killed every one of them on the spot. Before God and my own conscience, I feel not a shred of shame. If you would question my motives, I am prepared to wage war against you here and now."]

Ferda could not understand his actions.

'It would have been easier to pin everything on me...'

Ferda would have been the one in trouble, while Heodret needed only to point the finger and stand back.

On the other hand, he thought it might have been the right decision. Ultimately, it had brought things to the cleanest conclusion.

No one had dared utter a word in response to the king of Heinkel. They had lost too many people in the siege of the Heinkel Kingdom and were exhausted. Besides, recovering their kings' bodies was their highest priority now.

Moreover, despite claiming to have killed their kings, Heodret had shown them a modicum of respect by helping them recover the bodies.

Ferda had thought him nothing more than an arrogant man. Yet seeing him refuse to be swayed by emotion or hesitate to lend a hand where needed overturned every judgment Ferda had made of him. Surely this was what Heodret had meant by having the makings of an emperor.

"That is what happened."

"I see..."

"Yes."

"..."

"..."

Luri caught her breath. Ferda sensed a storm in that dry, constricted breath.

"... I'll prepare some tea."

She turned and began making tea at the table. The teaware trembled and rattled in her hands. Watching her, Ferda spoke again.

"Luri."

"Don't say it."

"Luri..."

"I don't want to hear it!" Luri shouted shrilly.