Clash with the Bearded Dragon (3)
https://booktoki469.com/data/file/novel/5895/41730/16549818927717.jpg
Once Count Bobert handed over the letter of introduction and departed, Owen set about preparing to become a Dragon Knight.
The first priority was the saddle, reins, and other tack.
"Let me see...."
He laid out the items he'd taken from Magnus on the ground and pondered them.
The tack had been made for a medium-sized whip-tail dragon, so it wouldn't fit as-is.
"Eung!"
Super Red, who had been staring blankly at the gear from the side, threw a tantrum for no reason.
It was trying to get Owen's attention, but with him absorbed in the equipment, it huffed off with one piece in its mouth when ignored.
"You little shit!"
"Kekekegek! Eung!"
It bolted away at an astonishing speed.
"Aigoo!"
The man standing beside Owen flailed in panic at the sight.
"Young master, put that thing in the Dragon Scroll already. I can't take this."
"It's tamed, so it won't attack people."
"Still, please! Those teeth are no joke...."
A ten-meter crimson dragon lumbering around was clearly too much for his nerves.
"What a weak heart. Anyway, don't we need measurements to modify the saddle?"
The man before Owen was named Mardo, one of the Leire family's hired hands.
A blacksmith who also dabbled in carpentry, he was indispensable on this rural farm.
He'd fix leaking roofs or broken tools without missing a beat.
Owen had enlisted his idle help to modify the saddle and reins.
"Mardo, I'll put it away once we've measured everything, so don't worry."
"Young master! You have to keep your word."
"Ah, really—will it even work? Grab that measuring tape over there."
"That beast doesn't look like it'll hold still. How do you plan to measure it?"
"I've got my ways."
Owen's method was simple.
He called Super Red over and stuffed it with as much meat as it wanted.
Thanks to the encouragement money from Count Bobert, he'd bought a cartload on the way back from the city.
"Eung!"
After gulping down chunks of meat, Super Red sprawled out to digest, too lazy to move.
"No matter how rowdy the dragon, feed it and it quiets down."
"Heh... Young master, you've got real talent."
After that, Owen kept the trembling, pitiful Mardo at it for two hours, measuring Super Red's body all over.
"Done."
He returned Super Red to the Dragon Scroll, and Mardo collapsed with a huge sigh.
"Aigoo. Young master, you shaved ten years off my life."
Sweat-soaked from tension, Mardo wiped his brow and soon voiced his concerns.
"I've worked for Dragon Knight families before, but I know nothing about this gear. I'm at a loss on how to modify it...."
"That's to be expected. Our family were Dragon Knights in name only—no dragons left."
"Then what will you do? Sir Leire won't help, that's for sure. He's against you becoming a Dragon Knight."
"No need to worry. I'll draw up designs to spec, and you just build them as-is."
Mardo brightened at Owen's assurance.
"That I can do. My hands are steady."
As the two planned, an old busybody butted in.
"Think it'll be that easy? Huh?"
It was the elderly Dragon Knight Gunter.
A grumpy old codger who'd fought in wars in his youth, now little more than a farmer.
His dwarf earth dragon hauled goods or plowed fields.
His sun-darkened skin from farmwork stood out more than the scars on his face.
"Sir Gunter."
"Not calling me 'father' anymore? Owen."
He referred to the recent incident when the reincarnated Owen had mistaken him for his dad.
"Drowning muddles the mind."
"Heh heh heh."
Gunter stroked his white-bearded chin, chuckling.
"Still seems muddled to me. A green kid with no experience making dragon saddles and reins?"
"Think I can't?"
"Give it up. Every dragon's shape is unique. It's delicate work—mess it up, and you burden the dragon."
From the boy's memories, Gunter meant no harm but often said nasty things.
He clearly thought Owen's plan absurd.
"Listen to your father and head to the seminary like he says. Better than chasing pipe dreams. Priests make good money, wield power. What's the point of wrangling shitting, gluttonous dragons?"
The old Owen had inwardly feared this prickly knight.
A scolding would leave him tongue-tied.
But that was then.
This Owen feared nothing.
"I appreciate Father's concern, but I decide my own path."
"Hm?"
Gunter paused at Owen's unprecedented resolve.
"What?"
"As I said. And thank you for the advice, sir. But in life's journey, choosing the thorny path is my right."
"Heh heh, you rascal."
Owen's firm tone might've irked the much older man.
Yet Gunter just grinned in surprise.
"Drowned and came back a different man? I half-doubted when you said you tamed a dragon. But when did your eyes get so steady and manly? Heh heh! Kids change fast."
Gunter felt quietly pleased.
The timid boy, unlike his father, now spoke his mind—it was admirable.
"Sorry if I was rude, Sir Gunter."
"Nah. Young pups need some edge. Heh heh. But saddle-making's still tough."
"No need to worry."
"Heh heh! Stubborn as a mule."
Owen and Gunter bickered—possible, impossible—until it turned into a bet.
"Fine, you brat! Make tack perfect for a Tokay dragon, and I lose."
"Agreed, Sir Gunter."
"Simple terms. Fail, and go be a priest quietly. I respect your new guts, but no Dragon Knight for you."
"Understood. If I succeed, you grant me one favor."
"What?"
"I'll tell you after I win. Nothing excessive."
"Hmph! Do as you like. Outcome's obvious anyway. Tch!"
Gunter left for drinks, heading to Logan's building—clearly to gossip.
"Young master, can you pull it off?"
Mardo, silent till now, couldn't hide his worry.
Owen clapped his shoulder and nodded.
"It's fine. Just build to my specs."
From then, they dismantled and rebuilt Magnus's expensive gear. Logan watched quietly.
A week later.
The day old Dragon Knight Gunter had awaited arrived.
Owen had finished modifying the dragon saddle.
"In the warehouse. Go see."
"Good. I've been waiting. Let's go. Heh heh."
The old man's face brimmed with mischief.
'Don't need to look. Obvious, brat.'
He planned to nitpick everything.
Changed or not, Owen was a rookie to him. Rookies didn't belong on battlefields.
"Here."
"Empty grain storage, eh."
"Yes."
Owen opened the door. Super Red lounged inside.
"Eung?"
Reins, saddle, and complex tack fully fitted on it.
"What?!"
Gunter reeled at the exquisite work.
"What do you think?"
"Hold on!"
Stunned, he circled Super Red, inspecting closely.
The tack was flawless.
Designed to maximize a Tokay dragon's combat power.
Impossible without vast experience.
"Heh heh...!"
Amazed beyond words, Gunter soon glared.
Impressed, but a bet was a bet.
The picky old man hunted for flaws.
'Safety lines on the saddle—for wall-clinging Tokay trait. Needs experience... well done....'
Inner admiration only. Then he spotted something odd.
'Huh? Why's that there?'
Aflame device and torch dangled from the saddle.
Gunter puzzled alone—couldn't fathom why.
Asking bruised his pride.
In the end, frustration pursed his lips.
"Tch."
"What do you think?"
"P-pretty good...."
No other words.
Everything perfect.
Beyond what Gunter knew—meticulously so.
He had to ask.
"How'd you make this? It reeks of deep experience. You've never even seen a dragon?"
Owen had prepared an excuse.
"I've studied Father's old records from his youth. He quit as Dragon Knight, but kept the notes."
"Heh... Logan always loved documenting. Still had them, huh. Studying to this level... jaw-dropping...."
Gunter admitted defeat.
He patted Owen proudly, laughing.
"Ha ha, you got me good. Thought you were aimless, but wrong. Owen, I'm impressed."
"Thank you."
"How'd you grow so steady so fast? Heh heh! You win the bet. What's the favor?"
Gunter was a sore loser but gracious in defeat.
He nodded—name it.
"Help persuade Father."
"Knew it. Ugh... Your dad's stubborn as hell. Won't be easy."
"That's why I'm asking."
"Fine. I'll try my best."
"Thank you."
"Stubborn like your old man. Heh heh heh."
Lost the bet, but Gunter wasn't displeased.
Owen might make a fine Dragon Knight.
"Show this saddle to Logan. He'll gape like me."
That night, Owen lay against Super Red's belly in the large warehouse.
A good day.
Logan, convinced by Gunter to visit, gawked at the saddle.
He didn't fully approve Owen as Dragon Knight yet, but his mind had shifted.
Gunter's bet-fueled support helped most.
"Should convince him soon."
"Eung."
Could use the Dragon Scroll, but bonding this way built intimacy.
https://booktoki469.com/data/file/novel/5895/41730/16549818927722.jpg
The warehouse stayed empty until wheat harvest, perfect for now.
"Grrrng, grrrng."
Super Red breathed low and steady, relaxed.
Dozing off, but Owen spoke.
"Oh, right—need to name you. Hm... what to call you."
Pondering, he decided.
"Alright. From now on, you're Grenville."
"...Eung?"
A drowsy reply.
Didn't quite get it.
"Grenville's a great name."
Owen drifted into thought.
In his past life, a soldier in his unit who showed amazing courage.
To honor him, the name Grenville.
Tradition: name your dragon after valiant fallen comrades.
"Like it? Grenville?"
"Grrrng... grrrng...."
It slept before answering.
Owen chuckled, pulling up a blanket.
Cozy bed? Nah—leaning on a dragon was comfier.
The dragon's rumble lulled his eyes shut.
How long after?
Grenville suddenly lifted its head.
"Eut!"
"Wh-what? What's wrong?"
Owen, startled awake, asked puzzled.
Grenville growled low and fierce. Jaws parted, saw-like teeth gleamed.
Faint moonlight through the window made them sharp and shiny.
"Ah...!"
Owen grasped it instantly.
Tokay dragons sharply distinguished friend from foe.
Similar reaction to the dwarf earth dragon before.
Recognized ally, now ignored each other like cows and chickens.
Now tense, tongue flicking.
Sensing scent particles in the air.
One meaning:
"Another dragon, huh? Some other dragon showed up?"
An unknown dragon at a rural farm in the dead of night?
Definitely trouble.
Owen grabbed his sword.
https://booktoki469.com/data/file/novel/5895/41730/16549818927727.jpg