#14 Clash with the Bearded Dragon (7)
The galloping Malton was engulfed in flames in an instant.
No matter how desperately he struggled, there was no escaping the oncoming blaze.
“Gaaahhh!”
A wretched scream erupted.
The Bearded Dragon, warily eyeing Owen and Grenville, turned in surprise to its master.
“Like this! At this rate—gaak!”
Malton flailed his arms wildly, trying to extinguish the fire clinging to his body.
He looked on the verge of collapse at any moment.
Blanky, at a loss, glanced at its master before jerking its head back in shock.
“Kek!”
It had spotted the purple crystal dagger clutched in Malton's hand.
Blanky didn't know what it was, but instinct told it this was a grave threat.
At the same time, an uncontrollable rage surged within.
Even this dim-witted creature, mockingly named Blanky for its stupidity, realized its master had intended something vile against it.
“Kreuuk!”
Blanky gaped its jaws wide at Malton.
Its inflated jowls were even more swollen than when it had faced Owen earlier.
“Gaaah! Aak!”
Malton, shrieking in agony, knew it was too late.
'You damned bastard! It's all because of you!'
As those curse-like thoughts filled his mind, Malton's eyes met Blanky's.
For some reason, the furious dragon's gaze held a glimmer of sorrow.
Malton's heart sank.
He had never seen such eyes before.
They were nothing like the usual vacant, listless stare it had always given him.
In that fleeting moment, he wondered if he'd misunderstood this dragon all along.
It hadn't obeyed commands out of sheer stupidity.
Perhaps it was loyalty to its master.
Suddenly, Malton puzzled over why he'd never recognized it, why he'd treated the dragon so harshly.
Maybe because he'd never truly loved anyone in his life.
Only now, at the end, did something like regret stir in Malton.
“Ah… you stupid…”
But his words trailed off unfinished.
Kwachik!
Blanky had swatted him with its forepaw.
Malton's upper body flew off as the sharp claws tore into him.
Whether that final “stupid” had been aimed at the dragon or himself would forever remain a mystery.
“Fall back.”
Owen hurriedly yanked Grenville's reins.
He'd anticipated this, but the real trouble started now.
No telling what the enraged Bearded Dragon might do next.
But what Owen feared didn't happen.
“Seeeek!”
Letting out a strangely mournful breath, Blanky slumped right there on the spot.
It showed no will to fight anymore.
Legs splayed, head drooped—it looked utterly pathetic.
Even as its eyes met Owen's, it paid him no mind.
He glanced at the text hovering above Blanky and sighed.
“Ha…!”
Emotion State: Despair
Blanky seemed plunged into deep despondency over this miserable end.
Betrayed by its master.
Killed that master with its own claws.
Even for a dragon with emotions far simpler than a human's, the shock was immense.
It looked like it had given up on life entirely.
Owen urged Grenville closer, but it ignored him.
As if to say, kill me if you want, it even closed its eyes.
Left like this, it might really die from the dragon lance wound.
Owen dismounted swiftly.
“I can't just let a loyal dragon die like this.”
A few days later.
Owen continued treating Blanky in the wheat field.
It had thrashed wildly when he removed the dragon lance, but afterward, it just lay there motionless.
“Your name's Blanky, is it? That's what the dead knight called you.”
Owen often tried talking to it, but got no response.
“Eung!”
Grenville, watching from behind out of boredom, reacted instead.
“Not calling you.”
With practiced hands, Owen applied salve to Blanky's wound.
The Leire family servants were cleaning up the trampled field from a safe distance.
“Owen.”
Logan approached then.
“Father.”
“What do you plan to do? We can't keep it like this forever.”
“Time heals all wounds—not just for people. I think it'll leave once it recovers.”
“If that's your will, so be it. I'll warn the servants to be cautious.”
“Thank you.”
Owen had initially tried taming Blanky but gave up.
It just lay there like it was dead; nothing to be done.
Of course, with Owen's skill, persistence might have worked eventually.
But with preparations to visit the Surpuk Duke bearing a letter of introduction, he couldn't devote himself solely to this dragon.
“It'll leave suddenly one day…”
Owen, well-versed in dragons, predicted. And sure enough, three days later, Blanky was gone.
The wheat field felt eerily empty.
“It's really gone! Look at those traces—massive!”
The frugal servant Ben fussed over the spot where the huge dragon had lain.
“Good riddance.”
Thus ended the uproar in the Leire household.
But the next day, Owen couldn't hide his surprise.
“Ah…? What're you?”
Blanky, whom he'd thought gone, reappeared with a massive moose in its jaws.
Thud.
Like presenting a gift, it dropped the deer at Owen's feet.
“What's this?”
Before he could ask, it turned and left. The next day, the same thing happened.
Thud.
This time, a huge gray bear.
The day after, a wild boar; then several wolves.
It seemed to be repaying him for sparing and healing its life.
“Don't you hate me? Technically, I killed your master.”
Blanky ignored Owen's question.
It came and went from the farm, but stayed longer each time.
Threatening no one, it simply basked in the sun like a giant boulder in the corner of the trampled field.
The servants feared it at first but gradually grew accustomed.
Eventually, even stingy Ben started chuckling and mimicking his young master.
“It'll leave suddenly one day…”
Exactly like Owen's wistful words.
“Ugh!”
As Owen bit his lip, cheeks faintly flushed, Ben grew even more delighted.
“You looked so grave, young master—I thought you were rehearsin' a play! Heh heh!”
“Cut it out!”
“You're tremblin' so cute-like, young master.”
“Ben, you old coot!”
The issue was they couldn't just leave Blanky be.
Owen went to his father, Logan.
“Father, what if we take Blanky in at the farm?”
“Hmm, at the farm?”
“It'll be useful, surely. Please look after it.”
“Me?”
Logan's eyes widened slightly.
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“You're a dragon knight, aren't you, Father? No dragon to tend now—this is perfect.”
“Hah! It's been ages since I last rode one.”
“Old skills don't fade.”
“Hmm…”
Logan pondered his son's words.
Truth be told, though he hadn't shown it, these past days had stirred him deeply.
Watching Owen charge with dragon lance in hand had resurfaced long-buried memories.
His most glorious era.
No matter how much the great purge had buried in his heart, some things never faded.
“Haha…”
Discovering his lingering desire to ride again, Logan could only chuckle softly.
Gazing out the window, he saw Blanky quietly perched in its corner of the field.
A sudden kinship stirred.
“That wounded, weary form… mirrors me. Very well. No need to worry—I'll take it on.”
“Thank you!”
As Owen brightened, Logan grasped his son's hand.
“A dragon knight who doesn't ride? What use is that?”
“…Father.”
“I thought I was blocking your path needlessly. But now I've decided.”
“Blocking? No such thing.”
Logan had always wanted to spare his son his own fate.
But realizing he still cherished those dragon-riding days changed everything.
“I won't stand in your way, son. Achieve what you desire.”
“…Father. Thank you.”
Now Owen could prepare to depart in earnest.
A few days later, Logan succeeded in fitting Blanky with reins.
Owen was impressed anew at his father's veteran prowess.
Though Owen had beforehand asked Blanky to accept reins if it wanted to stay on the farm.
Whether it understood or not, it accepted Logan.
Perhaps, having lost everything, it needed a place to stay.
Whatever the reason, a massive dragon now guarded the farm.
For Owen, it meant he could leave with peace of mind.
“Ben, what about the bandits' gear?”
“Master ordered it distributed to the servants. Never know when trouble'll strike again. Rest's stowed in the warehouse.”
Ben shrugged proudly at his efficiency and led Owen to the warehouse.
Sure enough, loot seized from the bandits was piled high.
“Variety of goods—Master said you'd decide later. Oh, and take whatever you need, young master.”
Ben gestured invitingly.
Bags, belts, boots, tools—plenty of decent stuff.
Packing travel essentials, Owen found a leather map.
“This?”
“Beats me. Looks like a map, but…”
It depicted a hill with a fortress and three nearby ponds.
Symbols dotted around, with notes:
-Repair needed. Destroyed by wild boar.
-Damaged in recent typhoon.
-Repaired this week.
-Newly installed here.
Racking his brain, Owen sensed a trap.
No trails marked, but symbols at every viable approach to the hill fortress.
He intuited this was the bandits' hideout fortress.
'Periodic repairs and markings confirm it. Belonged to whoever managed this.'
Bandit knights hid in abandoned fortresses, emerging only to raid—infamously hard to eradicate.
Malton especially, with a dragon, had stymied local lords.
But his dragon stayed at the farm now.
The fortress was ripe for the taking.
Guards aplenty, but none could match Owen on dragonback.
“Hoo… this is good.”
Owen's mind raced.
The bandit knights had amassed wealth over years.
Plus, perfect chance for merit before presenting to the Surpuk Duke.
Better than arriving with just a letter—crushing a bandit crew would impress far more.
Money, honor—pure profit.
Might even uncover who commissioned the raid.
Questioning Malton would've been fastest, but he was dead.
The captured grunts knew nothing.
“Ben, to the basement.”
“Why there, with those vicious scum? Sir Gunter said he'd finish 'em soon.”
“Got questions.”
They might not know the plot, but they'd know their base.
In the basement, Owen began interrogation.
Sir Gunter had already beaten them relentlessly; they spilled everything, begging mercy.
“Spare us! Don't hand to the lord—use us as farm slaves!”
Lords meant certain hanging.
They groveled.
“Depends on your answers.”
Owen had no mercy for such vermin.
“Tell me about your fortress.”
“Of course! We'll tell all!”
Desperate to live, they detailed location and paths meticulously, then volunteered more.
“Oh! Days before we left, some noble got dragged to the fortress.”
“What? A noble?”
“Yes, Sir Malton nabbed him for ransom. But he seemed so dangerous, even the fortress folk called it reckless.”
Bandit knights kidnapping nobles for ransom wasn't rare.
But there were limits.
Wealthy enough for payout, not powerful enough to retaliate.
Cross that line, and fortresses burned with their captives.
This one stirred internal debate for being borderline.
“Who?”
“Not sure exactly. But it's important, right? Heh heh.”
“Hmm…”
Unexpected intel.
Owen decided: since raiding the base anyway, rescue the noble if feasible.
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