Valley (1)
#28 Valley (1)
2021.11.07.
In anticipation of Bobert Count's visit, Owen inspected the state of the 5th Dragon Stable.
'No need to go overboard, but it wouldn't hurt to look presentable.'
Thanks to John's crew pitching in, most of the manure was cleared out. A little more tidying, and it would shape up nicely.
But then, something utterly unexpected happened.
"What? John's gang is on strike?"
"Yessir. In broad daylight, no work—just boozin' it up!"
Ben came huffing and puffing with the report.
"Hm?"
Owen wasn't angry so much as puzzled.
He'd figured they'd resist a bit, but this outright?
Owen set out to find John and his crew.
He soon spotted them in the open lot behind the stable.
"Uhhahaha! Here's to ya—one more round!"
"Boss! Lemme pour for ya first."
"Someone fire up more meat!"
It was a full-blown party.
Owen stepped right in.
"What's this nonsense during work hours?"
Normally, they'd shrink back, but John shot back like he'd been waiting.
"Hahaha. We got some good news, so we set up a little shindig."
"Save the celebrations for after hours. Why booze it up in the middle of the day with work piling up?"
"Can't ya let it slide just this once? Uhhahaha."
John played the sly card, and his crew erupted in rowdy laughter.
"Hahaha! Pull up a seat!"
"Ain't fancy, but plenty to eat."
Owen shook his head firmly.
"Can't allow it. Back to work, all of you."
Surprisingly, John and his gang got up and dusted off.
"Got it, boss."
"Yer a hardass."
But the moment Owen turned away, they fired up the party again.
Real contrary bastards.
Ben saw it and came rushing back.
"Young master! Those thugs are poundin' the booze again!"
"Strange."
Owen could only tilt his head.
John had been properly cowed lately.
This sudden brazenness meant he had some backing—or a scheme.
"Leave 'em be."
"Yessir... Huh? Leave 'em?"
"Let's see what they're up to. Kinda lookin' forward to it, honestly."
Truth be told, Owen could thrash them into line with his skills.
A good beating on a rainy day, and they'd never slack off again.
But he decided to watch.
In fact, it played right into his hands.
Now he had the perfect excuse to boot them all out.
"Understood. If that's how you see it, young master."
As he'd said, Owen took no action against John and his crew.
This only made John antsy instead.
"This ain't right..."
"What's up, boss?"
"Nah, I figured the kid would blow his top if we pushed like this."
"Yeah, that was the plan."
"If he lost it and broke one of our boys' arms or legs, we'd have him. Perfect setup."
John had hoped for a physical clash with Owen.
Not that he'd strike first, of course.
Beating a noble? No way he could handle the fallout.
He just wanted to take the hits.
Then Maroon Baron could pounce on it.
Report to the higher-ups that Owen couldn't control his men, that there was discord.
But it takes two to tango.
Owen's calm indifference left John looking foolish.
"No choice. We'll call Maroon Baron tomorrow if we have to."
Owen wasn't budging, so no other way.
Pity, but still, they could screw him over.
The 5th Dragon Stable had a backlog of issues.
Just pin them on Owen, done.
"Time to show that pup how scary the world is. Heh heh heh."
"What about the party?"
"Keep it goin'. If he explodes the day Maroon shows, even better."
John had no doubt it'd work.
But the world has a funny way of veering off script.
His wasted time twisted things just so.
Because tomorrow—Bobert Count was due to visit Owen.
The next day, Maroon Baron set off for Owen's stable.
After a lavish lunch, a nap, and tea time, he was moving at a snail's pace.
As his massive gut jiggled atop the horse, the poor beast was panting already.
Onlookers—old folks on the street—clucked their tongues and tapped out their pipes.
"People's hard-earned blood fattened that gut. Yep."
"Stick a candle in his navel, it'd burn for weeks."
Stares bored into him from all sides, but Maroon ignored them.
He just admired his new ruby ring with a grin.
"This Owen punk's that cocky, huh?"
He asked his secretary.
"Yes. Word is he had a private audience with Surpuk Duke. You sure about tangling with him?"
"Kuhuhu! Still don't get His Grace? He doesn't coddle underlings. Use 'em if they're useful, ditch 'em if not."
"I see."
"Must've caught his eye by chance. Report he's botching the stable, and the kid's toast. Obvious."
Maroon's read on Surpuk Duke was spot-on—he'd risen fast under him.
Too bad he didn't know Bobert Count and Drun Count had a keen interest in Owen.
If he had, he wouldn't have bothered today.
"Disciplining a snot-nosed brat? Piece of cake. Dares touch my rice bowl—time to pay."
Snorting, Maroon suddenly reared back as his horse lifted its front legs. He yelped in panic.
"Gaaah! Wh-what?!"
Nearly thrown.
A little girl lay tumbled ahead, face pale with terror.
She'd run out blind; smart horse had braked in time.
"Eeeek!"
But Maroon's rage boiled over.
"How dare you! Filthy wench blocking my path!"
Humiliation from the near-fall—he snatched his riding crop.
"Kyaaak!"
The girl screamed, but nearby farmers didn't dare intervene.
"Oh no! What to do!"
"Gonna nab a young'un!"
Shouts and foot-stamping, nothing more.
Then—a thunderous command.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!"
Maroon froze mid-swing, eyes bulging.
An unexpected figure.
"B-Bobert Count!"
Bobert, flanked by four knights in gleaming armor, glared with feral fury.
Uncharacteristically hot-tempered for his cool demeanor.
"Your shitty riding skills—gonna take it out on a child?!"
"N-no, that's not..."
"She do it on purpose? Pathetic worm!"
Bobert bellowed; Maroon tumbled off his horse, prostrating flat.
"S-sorry! I lost my head—overdid it!"
Bobert's prestige in the East was unmatched—only Surpuk above him.
Maroon, no slouch himself, bowed low anyway.
"Mercy, please!"
Bobert scolded him at length.
Street-smart Maroon begged forgiveness without excuses.
Hard to stay mad now.
Bobert tsked and waved.
"Tch. Up."
"Thank you, Bobert Count."
"Watch yourself. Lowly or not, she's just a kid. If it were an adult, I wouldn't stop you."
"Wise words indeed."
Maroon rubbed his hands fawningly.
'Like lightning from a clear sky. Worst luck!'
He lamented inwardly, but the crisis passed smoothly.
Then Bobert asked.
"Where you headed? Heard you're hitting taverns even daytime."
"No! Ridiculous rumor. Duties keep me swamped! Heading to inspect a stable now."
"Stable?"
"Yes. The 5th Dragon Stable. Heard things, checking management."
Maroon's jaw dropped at Bobert's reply.
"Funny. I'm headed there too."
"Pardon? Wha—?"
"Ears clogged? To the stable."
"Why there?"
"Gotta explain myself?"
"N-no! I'll follow!"
Maroon bowed obsequiously and remounted.
Trailing Bobert, he spiraled into confusion.
'What the hell?'
Why would an Eastern heavyweight head to a dump like the 5th?
No clue.
'Bad vibes only.'
He wanted to bail with an excuse, but couldn't backtrack.
Maroon felt like a cow marching to slaughter.
No fix—he arrived at the 5th.
"Here we are."
The building loomed like a dilapidated fort.
Dragon Scrolls cost a fortune, so small dragons got stables.
Medium and large? No—scrolls cheaper than housing those beasts.
"Everyone's working hard."
Bobert nodded faintly at the sight.
Handlers bustling, greeting the group before hurrying on.
No Owen, but Bobert didn't mind—peak hours, he figured.
Loafing to wait? That'd irk him.
"His Grace called it hopeless, but seems fine. Right, Maroon Baron?"
Called out, Maroon spurred forward, bowing.
"Yes, sir. Handlers look diligent."
"Indeed."
Then—boisterous singing from behind the building.
Drunken, no doubt.
"Hm?"
Bobert frowned instantly.
Everyone else ant-like busy—who boozes midday?
"Hmph!"
Unforgivable.
Anger flashed; he spurred toward the noise, knights swarming after.
Maroon followed hastily—and gaped at the scene.
"Ah..."
Chaos.
John and crew sprawled amid a massive booze-up.
Owen had stopped interfering; they'd gone full wild.
He'd be gone soon anyway—no fear.
But the worst hit.
"Ah! Maroon Baron! You made it!"
Flushed John jumped up.
Strangers mixed in, but he shrugged—Maroon's entourage, surely. Shiny knights, nobles too.
Maroon felt his blood ice.
'Fucked.'
In crisis, he thought fast—leapt off his horse like a gazelle, charging John.
"You trash!"
Slap!
Backhanded him across the face.
"Daring open that mouth! You begged me to check the 5th, and this is what I find—a damn party?!"
"Huh? N-no? What?"
John, thinking ally, was baffled—pain forgotten.
They'd planned this.
The party was to frame Owen's poor leadership.
Why was he the villain now?
"Baron, we talked about th—"
John started; Maroon panicked, roaring.
"Still babbling shit?!"
Couldn't let Bobert catch the plot.
Consequences unimaginable.
Maroon vowed to shut this fool up for good.
"Insolent scum!"
He shoved John down, stomping his face viciously.