Common as Dirt
Stephan looked as though he had just been struck hard on the back of the head.
"W-What...?"
Ferda repeated himself without the slightest change in expression.
"I said you're no longer of any use."
"W-What do you mean by that? How can you suddenly say I'm useless now...?"
"I spoke with Ahmed Hashim alone. He offered me a partnership."
At those words, Stephan immediately understood the significance.
"A partnership... Then you've pulled off something truly extraordinary..."
It was an offer on an entirely different scale from the simple cooperative relationship between Stephan and Ferda.
The greatest city in the south—the place where wealth from all over the region flowed—had offered Ferda an equal partnership, even before the city itself had fully taken shape.
Unless they had completely lost their minds, the southern side stood to gain far more from the arrangement, making it an extremely favorable offer for Ferda.
"...Did you accept it?"
Stephan forced his trembling voice to steady itself as he asked.
"If I accepted that offer, there'd be no reason for me to maintain my relationship with you."
A sense of betrayal welled up inside Stephan.
Naturally.
He had made aggressive investments solely because he trusted Ferda's words.
Unable to contain himself, he protested.
"Didn't we sign a contract? I have exclusive rights to sell magitech products, and you signed it yourself. If this goes to court, Your Highness will be the one at a disadvantage."
"True. Even if I lose, all I'd have to do is pay a bit of compensation. Then again, you'll be lucky if you can even collect that much."
"On what grounds can you say that?"
"Because you're no different. You're not fulfilling the contract either."
Stephan froze.
"When have I ever betrayed you? Are you talking about what I explained just now?"
He replayed everything he had said in his head.
No matter how he looked at it, there hadn't been any clause meant to cheat Ferda.
Well... there were a few details tilted slightly in his own favor, but nothing major.
It was simply the sort of mutually beneficial arrangement commonly made between merchants and nobles—though admittedly with the noble receiving the better end of the deal.
"When I first brought you in, do you remember what I told you?"
Ferda asked.
"I said that as long as you cooperated with me, I would cooperate with you. And I promised to make you the owner of the company."
"That's right."
Stephan nodded as he recalled the conversation.
"Yes. That's what you promised. But that isn't necessary anymore. We don't need the Pascal Company anymore."
"How much is the Pascal Trading Company worth?"
"It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that half the goods within the Empire pass through our company."
"Exactly. A company with that kind of influence throughout the Empire."
Ferda's expression turned even colder.
"And yet you're the one saying you're willing to throw it away."
"We can always build another company. We're pioneers in magitech. As long as we continue our research—"
"Stephan."
Ferda cut him off.
"Yes, Your Highness."
Ferda picked up three grapes from the fruit basket and placed them on the table.
"How many grapes are here?"
"Three."
"That's right. Three. One represents me, one represents Burnell, and one represents you."
He pointed to the grape representing himself.
"I promised to become your network. Up until now, I've been working to build those connections for you."
"That's true."
Next, he pointed to Burnell's grape.
"And Burnell serves as your source of ideas, creating new products through research and development. After today's success, he'll be working just as hard again tomorrow."
"That's true."
Finally, he placed his finger on Stephan's grape and rolled it gently.
"And your role is to provide the capital and the distribution network. Each of us has our own role in this system, and we all have to keep fulfilling it."
"...Yes."
"And yet you're talking about giving up the greatest trading company on the continent. Do you understand what that means?"
Ferda's finger slowly pressed down on Stephan's grape.
"It means you're nothing more than one of countless ordinary merchants."
The soft grape burst beneath the pressure of his finger.
"Someone who compromises by abandoning even what he already possesses is not the kind of merchant this principality needs."
Stephan silently stared at the crushed grape.
Ferda's fingertip was stained red.
For a moment, he imagined himself being crushed just like that grape—snuffed out like an insect.
"...Then... what should I do?"
"I'm not asking for anything difficult. Fulfill the contract. Become the owner of the Pascal Trading Company. That's your job."
Stephan's head spun.
Once again.
The same overwhelming pressure he had felt back at his father's estate.
Now Ferda was the one imposing it.
"...Does it really have to come to bloodshed?"
If Stephan wanted to become the head of the Pascal family, he would have to throw himself into the succession struggle.
His older brother Merchant, who ran the mercenary business.
His younger sister Tilda, who was trying to expand the family's influence through a political marriage with another major merchant house.
And his father, Herman Pascal.
To become the owner, he would have to persuade—or defeat—all of them.
He didn't want that.
Fight his own family?
Did he really have to draw his sword as well in a struggle where relatives pointed blades at one another until someone died?
"Whether you fight or not isn't my decision to make."
Ferda answered coolly.
"I simply want you to prove that you're the kind of talent the Principality of Valdrova needs."
***
Despite the minor disturbance, the exhibition concluded with great success and, fortunately, without any fatalities.
The auction in Halim continued afterward, but nothing particularly caught Ferda's interest.
The only exception was a sword that looked promising.
Thinking it would encourage Malcolm, he bought it and handed it over.
He almost took it back when Malcolm started crying the moment he received it.
Even after passing the Imperial knight examination and earning his title, the young man still had a long way to go before he truly deserved to be called a knight.
Though that's exactly why he's worth keeping around.
There was no need to decide Malcolm's fate until he outlived his usefulness as a test subject.
In any case, affairs in Halim had come to an end.
With the auction over, the scholars began packing up and bringing the exhibition to a close.
Some left satisfied.
Others sighed in disappointment after making little to no profit.
Burnell, however, paid no attention to either success or failure.
Inside the carriage, he pored over the design plans for the magitech rifle as though every second mattered.
Apparently, testing it in actual combat had inspired a flood of new ideas, and he was working his brain just as relentlessly as he had while preparing for the exhibition.
Just as they were preparing to leave Halim, Ferda noticed a bright flash of sunlight reflected toward him.
The Chancellor of Escholeia, Bernard Wayne, was approaching.
"Did the exhibition go well?"
"Yes. There were a few incidents, but overall I'm quite satisfied."
"That's good to hear. I'm looking for Burnell. Would you happen to know where he is?"
Ferda subtly gestured toward the carriage.
"If you don't mind, may I speak with him for a moment?"
Ferda looked into Bernard's eyes.
He could faintly sense guilt over what the chancellor had done.
Is he planning to apologize?
He had deliberately provoked Burnell into a passionate fury.
Why pour cold water over that now?
To Ferda, it made little sense.
Then again... he has a new source of motivation now.
The success of the exhibition had become Burnell's new driving force.
Ferda decided that Burnell no longer needed his anger toward Chancellor Bernard and stepped aside.
Bernard climbed into the carriage and called out.
"Burnell."
Burnell glanced at him briefly before turning his head back to his work.
"There's no need for us to talk."
"I have something I need to say to you. I..."
"I already know."
"I know exactly why you said those things, Chancellor."
Bernard was left speechless.
"How did you know that?"
"Because I'm a scholar too, am I not? I once studied under you. Everyone knows that you're especially strict with geniuses. So naturally, you treated me the same way."
"..."
Burnell looked up at the ceiling.
He recalled the past, but there was no longer any pain in his expression.
"Back then... I was furious. I was disappointed. I felt betrayed. But I don't feel that way anymore. Because you were right, Chancellor."
Both Burnell's voice and his eyes carried the brilliance he had once possessed long ago.
"As you said, my vision was too narrow. I focused on the one percent and failed to see the other ten. Thanks to the opportunity you gave me this time, I was finally able to broaden my perspective."
"..."
"So next time..."
Burnell smiled.
"I'll bring you something so revolutionary that you won't have any choice but to acknowledge me."
"The light of truth..."
Bernard was secretly taken aback upon hearing those words.
It was a phrase every student of Escholeia Academy knew by heart.
Smiling in return, Bernard recited the rest.
"...shall set you free."
The subtle emotions between them still remained, but the deep chasm of hatred was gone.
Bernard gently patted Burnell on the shoulder.
"Then overturn heaven and earth with your ideals."
"And when I reach that day, I'll treat you to a cup of tea."
In the end, Bernard never apologized.
And Burnell never wanted that apology.
They were both people who pursued ideals and sought the truth.
Having confirmed that they were united by that single conviction, each continued walking his own path.
***
"Move out!"
At the front of the procession, Malcolm blew the horn, and the carriages began to roll.
It was time to return to the castle.
The journey here had taken ten days.
The return trip would take another ten.
As those long, tedious days stretched before him, Ferda found his thoughts drifting more and more toward Valdrova.
"My heart... what are you doing right now?"
With that question destined to go unanswered, the carriage continued onward without end.
***
A dragon's daily life is inseparable from its nest—its lair.
For dragons, displaying their power and authority is second nature, and they shape their lairs to reflect their own unique characteristics.
In that regard, Valdrova was different from other dragons.
Her lair was less a palace than a refuge—a place not unlike an underground prison.
It had originally been a damp cave filled with cold winds.
But after she made it her home, it became warm and dry.
Curled up inside, Valdrova sighed.
I'm bored.
Though she was an immortal who had lived for countless years, there were still moments when the slow passage of time wrapped her in unbearable tedium.
The only reason she had been able to endure living in such a dark place for so long was because Luri had been there.
And... I never really had time to think.
She had always been too preoccupied worrying about when her bloodlust would overwhelm her again.
Only after she no longer had to suffer from it did boredom finally find its way into her life.
Whenever she felt another episode approaching, Ferda would step in to help her.
And every time, he would casually try to make conversation.
"Greetings, Princeps Valdrova."
...
"O-Oh, h-hello."
"Let's begin."
"Y-Yes."
...That wasn't even a conversation.
It had been completely one-sided.
Ferda did all the talking while Valdrova merely nodded or shook her head.
It couldn't be helped.
Her entire life revolved around going outside and killing monsters.
What would happen if she actually tried to make that the topic of conversation?
"I went out and killed monsters today."
"I see."
"One of them wouldn't die even after I tore it apart with my claws, so I filled its insides with fire instead."
"...Ah."
"There were parasites hiding inside it too. They wriggled quite nicely while they burned."
"...Right..."
He'd definitely be horrified.
Valdrova could vividly picture the expression Ferda would make.
As though he were thinking,
"This... is my fiancée?"
The thought alone made her miserable.
I promised myself I'd change...
Yet all she could manage were simple greetings, farewells, and the occasional exclamation.
Her bloodlust no longer tormented her as much as before.
Instead, a different kind of pain had taken its place.
Maybe... I should ask them to send Ferda here.
Perhaps this time she could prepare a topic beforehand.
She had already thought that eight different times.
Nothing had changed.
The reason was simple.
Because I have nothing to talk about.
Just as no sprout can grow in barren ground where nothing has been planted, there could be no conversation when there was no subject to begin with.
Then she suddenly realized something.
Ferda said he'd gone somewhere called Halim.
It didn't sound like a pleasant place.
Luri's expression had darkened the moment she mentioned Halim, and she had even let out a sigh.
Valdrova simply assumed it was some sort of battlefield.
He's had even more work lately...
She also knew he had formed an alliance with Iorga.
Iorga...
Valdrova felt strangely uneasy whenever she thought of that name.
The Blue Dragon, Iorga.
For some reason, Iorga had always disliked her.
Whatever Valdrova said, Iorga would frown, criticize her, and try to crush her spirit.
Valdrova knew there was no malice behind it.
But that didn't make Iorga any less intimidating.
I hope... she's doing well.
It had been a long time since they had last met.
Her face had grown hazy in Valdrova's memory, but she still remembered her figure.
Brilliant.
Beautiful.
A Guardian Dragon respected by countless people.
Wherever she went, people admired her far more than they feared her.
A village...
One thought naturally led to another.
Come to think of it... it's been a very long time since I last saw a human village.
Curiosity quietly settled in.
How many centuries had it been?
What did human towns look like nowadays?
Were they still the same as she remembered?
Or had they changed completely?
The curiosity stirred her body of its own accord.
Her massive dragon form gradually dissolved until a lone woman stood where it had been.
"...I want to go."
She absentmindedly fidgeted with the hem of her skirt.
If she was going to leave, she had to do so in human form.
Valdrova never wanted to meet people as a dragon.
People would be afraid... if they saw my dragon form.
But she couldn't bring herself to go out as a human either.
...Because I'm the one who's afraid in this form.
It was a dilemma with no solution.
Her gaze drifted toward the suit of armor resting against the wall.
Maybe... that armor...
Would it work?
She had worn it when meeting Ferda before.
She was accustomed to it now.
Its slightly taller stature no longer felt uncomfortable either.
"...But isn't it still a little frightening?"
It was enormous, muscular, and imposing.
Most of all, it had been sculpted in the image of her true self.
Its helmet was shaped like the head of a dragon—
The same terrifying visage that made everyone tremble in fear.
"...Couldn't it... be less intimidating?"
Valdrova murmured wistfully.
At that very moment.
As if the armor had heard her words, it trembled.
"Huh?"
Shrrrk—
The fearsome dragon-shaped helmet began to melt away.
Not just the helmet.
Every decorative feature that had been crafted to emphasize a dragon's majesty slowly disappeared.
"What... what's happening?"
Before the flustered Valdrova could react, the armor completely transformed.
"Ah...!"
A gasp escaped her lips.
Before her stood something wonderfully familiar.
"It's... ordinary."
A plain, slightly weathered half-plate suit of armor.
So ordinary that anyone who saw it would simply assume its wearer was an ordinary knight.
"...It's ordinary."
Valdrova's golden eyes sparkled.
To her, something ordinary was a treasure beyond the value of gold or jewels.
As though drawn toward it, she hurried over and slipped into the armor.
It was time for the hatchling to break out of its shell.
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