Chapter 228
Chapter 228
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 228
Chapter Title: To the Dragon's City by Sea (1)
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"Cough! Cough!"
Ronan retched. It felt like his stomach was being wrung out like a rag. Even the sea breeze, which should have been refreshing, felt nauseating like filth. Beside him, Schlieffen staggered and wiped the corner of his mouth with a handkerchief.
"......It really puts a strain on the body."
"Ueeek! Ueeek!"
Asel clung to a tree, vomiting up everything inside him. Not a single one of the three had avoided throwing up. Ronan spat out bile-mixed saliva and growled fiercely.
"When we get back to the capital......huff, I'll break the legs of whoever made this scroll."
"Ugh......uuu......that's too much......this is really......"
Asel whimpered. Less than ten minutes ago, the three had arrived at the southern port of Tandrei.
The five prepared scrolls had been completely used up. The afterimages of the ever-shifting landscapes from unfurling the scrolls still seemed to dance before their eyes.
But despite arriving early, they had already been suffering in the same spot for about thirty minutes. It was the side effect of consecutive spatial transfer magic.
Ronan could once again appreciate just how meticulously crafted Kratir's or Navardoje's spatial magic was. Of course, even considering the side effects, it was incomparably more convenient than any other means of travel.
"Anyway, we've arrived."
He finally regained his senses and brushed back his hair. Under the deep blue sky just beginning to dawn, the full view of Tandrei's docks unfolded. The night sea, palm trees, and the distinctly more humid air than the capital confirmed they had reached their destination correctly.
"Those young fellas are still like that. Are they sick or something?"
"No, they appeared out of thin air! Why won't you believe me?"
A few people were chattering about Ronan and his group. Even at this early hour, quite a crowd had gathered at the port. Judging by their wild appearances, most seemed to be fishermen.
Women who looked like their wives or daughters moved about here and there. True to their southern origins, they had a captivating charm in many ways. The harmony of tanned skin and voluptuous figures! Ronan muttered as if entranced.
"......I really should have been born in the south."
"It, it wouldn't have been bad."
Asel didn't deny it either. That's how the bond between men worked. Only Schlieffen kept his eyes gently closed, as if shaking off worldly temptations. The nobility of blue blood.
They headed straight to the most secluded corner of the docks. He wanted to dip his feet into the southern nightlife, but there was no time for that. Soon, Ronan spotted a familiar face and waved.
"Hey, Ir."
"I told you not to call me that."
Itargand frowned. He stood by the pier with a somewhat tired-looking face, having arrived early to hand over the boat.
"Last question. Are you sure it's okay if I don't go?"
"Yeah, man. This is more than enough, so just study hard."
Ronan waved him off. He had never intended to bring Itargand along. Setting aside that he was a busy freshman, his status as Navardoje's blood kin would make him stand out inescapably in Adren. Understanding the implication, Itargand nodded.
"Got it. That does seem like the right call."
"I'll accept the sentiment. So, is this the boat we're taking?"
Ronan pointed to the sloop behind Itargand. It was a small vessel that could carry maybe twenty people at most. Compared to the red galleon he had sailed before, it was like a hawk versus a chick in size.
"Your tastes have gotten modest. Well, the previous one was too flashy."
"Don't underestimate it. It's far more valuable than that oversized log from last time. My Red Whirlwind can perform every action automatically, even without a single crew member."
Itargand boasted proudly. He explained that this sloop, the Red Whirlwind, was the pinnacle of magitech and the ultimate choice for sailing. Honestly, Ronan didn't quite get it, but judging by his expression, it really seemed like a top-notch vessel. Ronan patted his shoulder.
"Thanks, man. Lending us such a fine boat."
"Treat it like your own body. If you even scratch it, I won't let it slide."
"Yeah, yeah. Don't worry."
Ronan waved him off. Naturally, he had no intention of handling it roughly. It would only take about eight days to reach Adren—what could possibly happen in that short time? Just as he and his group were about to board.
"Wait, there's one thing I want to tell you."
"What?"
"It's been a while since I went to Adren, so I'm not sure about now, but......it's best not to go around advertising that you're my servant."
His expression and tone were serious. Ronan tilted his head.
"Why?"
"It's childish politics. The current Dragon King Azidahaka harbors immense inferiority toward my mother. With her prolonged absence, he might pick a fight and harass you over nothing."
"The Dragon Lord's nitpicking. How scary."
Ronan twisted his lips. It felt all the more dangerous because it was entirely plausible. Denial of lodging or forced deportation would be fortunate.
"D-Dragon King?"
"Not good news."
The two listening from behind reacted as well. With no other options, they boarded without complaint. The departure was quiet.
"We'll be off."
"As your servant, don't tarnish my honor. Achieve your goal and return."
Ronan waved to Itargand. As the mooring ropes were cast off from the pier, the boat slowly began to move forward. The rising sun was painting the eastern sea red.
Adren lay in the middle of the sea called the White Mirror Sea. Unlike the jewel-like beautiful southern seas, it was a desolate expanse of pale azure waves.
On the fifth morning after departure, Ronan's group entered the White Mirror Sea. Intense sunlight incomparable to land poured down onto the deck. Massive cumulonimbus clouds like ancient castles floated above the horizon.
"Damn, I just can't get used to this heat."
Ronan grumbled. He had long since discarded his shirt. The salty wind hit his bare skin, but it wasn't enough to cool the heat.
His skin had tanned to a bronze like Naviroje's. While the capital was starting to show autumn colors, the southern seas were at the peak of summer. Asel, reading a book beside an ice pillar he had made, spoke up.
"H-Here's cool......"
"That's no fun. No romance."
Ronan clicked his tongue. He had never ventured this far out to sea even in his previous life, so he wanted to savor the raw experience of this voyage as much as possible. Gazing at the sails billowing in the fair wind, he muttered in admiration.
"Still, this thing is amazing no matter how many times I see it. No wonder the young master was so confident."
"Yeah. For real."
Asel nodded. As Itargand had said, this was truly an incredible boat.
Not just routine tasks like steering or adjusting sails, but even sudden crises like storms or big waves—it handled everything flawlessly on its own. With Adren already set as the destination, the three only needed to watch for potential enemy ambushes or prepare meals.
"I-I hope it stays like this."
"Yeah."
Asel murmured. Ronan nodded vigorously. The grim resolve they had at departure inevitably loosened amid five days of unchanging scenery.
Fishing boats and uninhabited islands they occasionally passed were no longer in sight. Encounters with whales or flying fish schools provided the only variations.
The three quite liked this peace. They knew they'd suffer in Adren, so they hoped it would last at least until they arrived.
As the sun climbed overhead, Schlieffen, standing at the bow with arms crossed, uttered a single word.
"An island."
"Huh? Really?"
Ronan jumped up from his hammock. At the starboard railing, he saw dark green masses indeed floating on the horizon.
"It's real. And pretty big too."
"Looks like a named archipelago."
With multiple masses, it was clearly an island chain. Unfortunately, it was off the Red Whirlwind's course. Asel arrived late, unrolling a map as big as his torso.
"It's called the Pashanti Archipelago."
"Pashanti Archipelago?"
Ronan raised an eyebrow. It was a name he vaguely recalled hearing once. Remembering the Aurora Skull incident, he snapped his fingers.
"Aha."
It was definitely the base of those guys who were subordinates of some poison dragon. Their organization was called the Green Tusks, right? Frowning at the islands, Ronan muttered.
"Annoying bastards."
A crime syndicate ruled by a dragon boss— just imagining getting tangled up was tiresome. After telling the other two about the Green Tusks and the poison dragon, he spoke.
"Anyway, island with that kind of backstory. Let's just pass quietly to avoid trouble."
"Y-Yeah. Sounds good."
Asel nodded quickly. Since the boat was heading to Adren anyway, doing nothing would solve it. Ronan laughed, patting his pale back.
"Don't freak out, man. What could happen?"
"Y-Yeah. Right......?"
Asel finally sighed in relief. Returning to their spots, the three resumed their activities. Schlieffen maintained his sword, Ronan did sit-ups in a handstand.
The moment Asel opened the Vajra to finish reading.
Kwaaaaaang!! A deafening roar like bursting eardrums echoed, and the hull shook violently.
"Hiiiyaak!"
"Shit, what the hell?!"
Asel screamed and leaped up. Ronan and Schlieffen whipped their heads toward the sound almost simultaneously. The mast at the ship's center was dented as if bitten by an invisible beast. Thick smoke billowed, scattering in the sea breeze.
"C-C-C-Cannon? B-Bomb?"
Asel whimpered. Then the slowly tilting mast crashed onto the deck. Boom!! The pillar thicker than a giant tree smashed the deck and cabin roof completely. Ronan rubbed his forehead with his palm. Itargand's voice echoed in his ears: If you even scratch it, I won't let it slide.
"Fuck."
"W-What?! Where from......!"
Asel barely composed himself and looked around like a meerkat. Whirrr! A whistling sound rang out from somewhere. Schlieffen reflexively turned and swung his sword. Kwang! An explosion erupted in the air about twenty paces from the ship. Staring toward the sea, he spoke.
"From the islands. They're skilled at hiding their presence."
"What?"
Ronan rushed to his side. Sure enough, three brigs were cutting through the waves from the Pashanti Archipelago. All galleons several times larger than the Red Whirlwind.
Every bow featured a grotesquely ugly dragon figurehead. Instantly recognizing them, Ronan cursed.
"Ah. Fuck."
"This is the territorial waters of Poison Dragon Lord Drahavie! Stop your vessel immediately!"
As if confirming his suspicions, a booming voice echoed from the brigs. They had tried to pass quietly, but got caught anyway. The cannon fire clearly came from them too.
No choice but to crush or shake them off. Asel panted, repairing the broken mast to its place. Sighing deeply, Ronan turned to Schlieffen.
"Phew......Should I handle it? Or you?"
"I've already finished one."
"What?"
Ronan frowned. Glancing down, he noticed the blade missing from Schlieffen's hilt.
As Ronan opened his mouth to speak.
Slash! The wind suddenly grew fiercer, and the lead brig was cleaved vertically in two.