Stem of Eternity (3)
"This is my spirit's ability."
"That beastkin girl who just appeared—she's your spirit?"
"That's right."
"Hardly an ordinary one, I take it?"
"No. I believe she may be a spirit of knowledge or wisdom."
"Hmm. A spirit of knowledge… I've never heard of such a thing, but I suppose it's possible. There was a spirit of lightning, after all."
Roy's lies grew more shameless with every passing day. Swordsmanship was not the only skill that improved with practice.
The second son still hasn't drunk it.
Roy confirmed that the count had not yet passed the Dragon's Breath to his own son. The young man named Freddy possessed roughly the same amount of mana as his younger sister, Chloe.
Surely he didn't just happen to obtain a single dose and keep it for himself? Or has he simply not appointed a formal heir yet, and is holding it back for that reason?
His thoughts grew tangled. Did the count truly possess the Dragon's Breath—or the method of making it?
Even as those questions turned over in his mind, the conversation continued. The father and son, having grasped the sheer power of Spell Acceleration, could not contain their curiosity. They peppered Roy and Noah with questions and praise, practically spraying saliva as they spoke.
Talk then turned to Roy's plan to enter a dungeon with Chloe. Freddy felt as though another burden had been piled onto his already-overloaded shoulders. Still, he was curious about the boy's true strength. Above all, he could not gainsay a decision his father—the lord of the territory—had already approved. Before he was a son, he was the captain of the knights under the count's command; when his superior ordered, he obeyed.
"I will carry out the duty to the best of my ability. For now, I have expedition preparations to see to, so I'll take my leave."
"Do. Prepare thoroughly."
"Yes, sir!"
Once Freddy had gone, a brief silence settled over the room.
Right… from this moment on.
Roy drew a deep breath and steeled himself.
At Roy's request every door and window was closed—and locked. At last the time had come for a private conversation with the count alone. Roy had no intention of beating around the bush. Ever since he had set foot in the royal underground vault, he had spent long hours considering how he would handle Count Bacon when they finally met.
The words he had rehearsed countless times in his head spilled out without hesitation.
"Count, are you by any chance familiar with Dragon's Breath?"
"…!?"
The moment the boy spoke those words after Freddy's departure, Count Bacon jerked as though he had been struck by lightning.
"What in the world are you talking about all of a sudden?"
"I'm simply curious. That's why I ask."
The count seemed to ponder for a moment, then offered a few of the common rumors that circulated about Dragon's Breath. Roy had heard them all before. They were only the opening gambit in a longer game whose real prize was the genuine information the count kept locked away. Had the man spilled everything at once, that would have been more suspicious still.
In truth, Roy's question already contained a hidden snare.
He already knows the rumors about me. He must be starting to suspect…
The count had heard the stories of Roy's sudden leap in strength—stories of an overwhelming victory over a scion of a margrave's house. How? Could luck and cleverness alone produce such a result? Absolutely not. Even with magic weapons and amulets, bridging that vast gap in mana should have been impossible. The rumors mentioned no clever stratagems; they spoke only of raw, crushing power. That would have required mana at least equal to—if not greater than—his opponent's.
And now, while those suspicions were already swirling, the boy had uttered two words: Dragon's Breath.
The count gathered the scattered fragments of information in his mind and arrived at a single conclusion. The boy before him had unquestionably consumed Dragon's Breath.
"Roy, you don't mean…"
Yet what Roy had actually said was only a question—whether the count knew of Dragon's Breath. Nowhere had he implied that he himself had drunk it. So it remained mere speculation. In that delicate moment Roy struck first.
"You've already tasted Dragon's Breath yourself, haven't you, Count?"
"…!?"
"Just as I thought. Your reaction just now confirmed it."
Count Bacon cursed inwardly but gave no outward sign. Who was he, after all? Lord of these lands, current head of House Bacon. He had no intention of being toyed with by a child's clever tongue.
"Still too green. Trying to throw suspicion onto me to hide the fact that you drank it yourself?"
"Me? Drink it? If such a thing truly exists, I would beg for even a single mouthful. It would help with everything from crafting amulets onward."
Roy and the count locked eyes, each openly wearing a wicked smile.
As expected of the count. No ordinary man.
This slippery little brat…
"It makes no sense that you didn't drink Dragon's Breath. Your opponent was a blood descendant of a margrave's house. The world is whispering that you're some kind of mutant, but I don't believe that."
"I can hardly introduce myself as a mutant with my own mouth, can I? As you saw earlier, I had help from my spirit. Without her power I could never have defeated James."
"Months ago you told me yourself that your mana was too meager to draw out your spirit's full strength. Yet now you can. That means you drank Dragon's Breath sometime in these past few months, doesn't it?"
"I may have been mistaken. Perhaps back then I simply hadn't drawn out my full innate potential yet."
"Sophistry. Are you determined to the end to claim you're a mutant?"
"Not at all. I'm trying to tell you I never consumed Dragon's Breath."
"Impossible. Even if you were a mutant, the fact that you can now wield an Aura Blade—something you couldn't use mere months ago—proves your mana has increased dramatically. You drank Dragon's Breath. Am I wrong?"
Roy looked flustered. Seeing it, the count beamed as though he had already won. But this was Roy's second trap.
"So you do know a great deal about Dragon's Breath after all, Count."
"What?"
"If I think back over everything you've said, you've spoken as though Dragon's Breath is no mere rumor but a real substance, and as though you are certain of its effects. Had you believed it was only a legend, you would never have so readily accepted the claim that I drank it and gained mana. Yet from the very beginning you spoke with absolute conviction that I had consumed it. Am I wrong?"
"……"
"In other words, you yourself have drunk Dragon's Breath. That is why you are so sure of both its existence and its power."
"Ha… this is maddening."
A refreshingly straightforward man. He offered no excuses. With that, it was confirmed beyond doubt that he had consumed Dragon's Breath.
"You cunning little fox. From the moment you first asked whether I knew of its existence, you were already certain. Am I wrong?"
"I will neither confirm nor deny."
"One more thing. My own hypothesis is also correct. You drank it as well. Did you not?"
"Again, I will neither confirm nor deny."
"Then answer me this. Why bring the subject up at all?"
"I believe, Count, that you are carrying a great secret—just as I am."
"And?"
"What would you say to sharing those secrets with each other?"
"…!?"
The count's brows drew tightly together. For a long moment he said nothing. He was carefully weighing every possible outcome. Roy had not given a direct answer, yet he had made it clear that he held something important concerning Dragon's Breath—or knowledge of it.
From the count's perspective, though he had been tricked by a child's clever ruse into revealing his secret, the situation was far from threatening. Even if Roy spread the tale, how many would believe him? And who would dare challenge a regional powerhouse like Count Bacon? Even the king himself could not move against him lightly without proper justification. The royal army was hardly going to march on Bacon County tomorrow on the word of a mere boy.
More importantly, the boy had clearly approached him with a purpose. And that purpose was all too obvious.
"That spirit of yours—the spirit of wisdom, you said? You certainly look worthy of summoning one."
"You flatter me. It was pure chance."
"Hmph. Don't overdo the modesty. I am the lord of this land; I can hardly admit I was toyed with by some foolish child."
"……"
Toyed with? It wasn't quite that bad…
Roy waited for the count to lay out his information on Dragon's Breath.
The finished elixir? The method of making it? Or the way to obtain it? Which is it?
After long consideration the count finally spoke.
"Show me your cards clearly. Then I will show you mine—on the honor of my house. Everything spoken in this room will remain an absolute secret. From my family, from everyone. I swear it before the gods."
"I likewise swear before the gods that I will never speak of anything seen or heard in this place to my family or to anyone else."
"Then will you speak first?"
"Yes."
"Very well. First question: you drank it, correct?"
Roy quietly nodded.
"I did."
"As I thought…"
"And I have one more dose as well."
"…!?"
"I've shown my cards. Now it's your turn, Count."
The count gripped both armrests of his chair and half-rose. He stayed frozen in that awkward posture for a long moment before sinking back and leaning against the seat. A deep sigh escaped him. Even though the conversation had already led him to expect as much, hearing it with his own ears still struck him as something entirely new.
And well it might. This was no ordinary treasure. It was a colossal blessing that, in an instant, multiplied several times over the fixed quantity of mana a person was born with—something that never otherwise changed. That such a precious thing had walked into his life of its own accord left him both elated and strangely hollow; strength drained from his entire body.
"What if I simply seize you and take it by force? Why reveal something so valuable so easily?"
"I received it from His Majesty the King."
"…!?"
"If anything should happen to me here… well, I trust you understand the rest without my needing to spell it out. Oh, and of course His Majesty already knows I am here."
"Ha… haha… hahaha."
The count could only laugh for a long while, wearing an expression of pure disbelief.