Two Eggs (5)
She must have been secretly watching Owen all this time.
‘No wonder I kept feeling eyes on me. But who the hell is she?’
It was a face he'd never seen before.
Still, one thing was clear.
He could see the dragon scroll hanging from her waist.
“A dragon knight?”
“That's right. Now answer my question.”
“Well, I haven't the foggiest idea what you're talking about. I just figured things were about to get rowdy, so I stepped out early.”
Owen had no intention of giving her a straight answer and brushed her off.
Her voice sharpened in response.
“Don't lie to me.”
“Even if it were true, I see no reason to tell you. Of course, if you satisfy my curiosity first...”
Owen glanced pointedly at the dragon knight's scroll.
She caught the look and let out an incredulous laugh.
“Ha! More interested in my dragon than who I am, are you?”
“Call it an occupational hazard.”
“...Fine. But you have to answer me in return. And promise to keep it secret.”
“Agreed. I'm not one to go blabbing about other people's dragons.”
With the area growing chaotic, she suggested they move somewhere quieter.
Shouts were already erupting from inside the hall.
“What the hell is this? Grab that bastard!”
“You conning son of a bitch! Give us our money back!”
“This is unacceptable! Stand down!”
It sounded like fists were already flying.
He didn't need to see it to know what a mess it was.
Owen chuckled and mounted his horse.
“And what might your name be, Lady Knight? I am Owen, son of the Leire family.”
“Alania Ventra.”
“Lady Ventra, I see. Very well. Shall we head to the 5th Dragon Stable together?”
“Aren't you worried about inviting a stranger when you're guarding something so important?”
“You sought me out anyway, didn't you? What's the harm? I'll go on ahead. Hya!”
Owen spurred his horse without waiting for Alania.
A stunned voice rang out behind him, but he didn't look back.
Thirty minutes later.
Alania dismounted, drenched in sweat.
Strands of hair clung to her face, fueling her irritation.
Owen, by contrast, looked as composed as if he'd just gone for a leisurely stroll.
“Y-Your horsemanship... is impressive.”
Owen shrugged at her words.
“I've got a knack for riding anything. It's the mark of a true knight.”
Alania felt oddly outmaneuvered, her pride stung.
‘Me, from the capital, losing ground to some country knight!’
Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but Owen pretended not to notice and led her to his office.
She tried to play it cool, peeling the golden strands from her face as she walked.
But when Owen offered her a drink in the office, she gulped it down desperately.
“Ah...!”
Embarrassment hit her late, and she turned her head, but the damage was done.
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She fanned herself lightly and spoke first.
“I'll tell you about the dragon in my scroll. But answer my question first.”
“Of course. It's nothing special, really. I could tell at a glance. That hatchling was promising, but it had defective lungs.”
“Lungs? But it broke out of the egg...”
Owen nodded calmly and began explaining.
“The environment before and after hatching is worlds apart for a hatchling. As you know, inside the egg, it's surrounded by a membrane and barely moves, focusing solely on growth.”
“That doesn't mean it doesn't breathe, right? The leading theory is that invisible pores on the eggshell let it breathe.”
“Correct. I don't disagree. But the air coming through those shell pores is minimal.”
“Isn't that enough if it's not moving?”
“Precisely. But what happens when it starts to move?”
“Ah...”
“Once the hatchling began wriggling, it needed far more air than inside the egg. Its faulty lungs couldn't keep up.”
“So the environmental shift post-hatching, combined with breathing issues, caused it to collapse?”
“Exactly.”
“Can you prove it?”
“There'll be an autopsy anyway. With such a valuable dragon dead, they'll want the cause of death. Dragons that suffocate have dark red blood that's still fluid and doesn't clot easily. Their lungs show severe congestion—you'll see it the moment you cut them open. Even without that, the underdeveloped lungs will tell the tale.”
“Ah!”
Alania was inwardly impressed by Owen's fluid, knowledgeable response.
He was young, yet his dragon expertise far surpassed hers.
Her pride took another hit.
But she also felt glad she'd come on the Third Prince's orders.
‘Someone this talented would be worth His Highness meeting.’
Now it was her turn to answer.
As Owen eyed her dragon scroll, she sighed and pulled it out.
“Here, take a look.”
Alania unfurled the scroll.
Owen let out a gasp at the dragon depicted on it.
“A royal dragon! So you're connected to the imperial family, Lady Ventra?”
“Right. Do you recognize the breed?”
Owen nodded, unable to tear his eyes from the small dragon's image.
It was covered in sharp scales, with long spines protruding from its tail.
“Depresa.”
The Depresa was a small breed, but among guard dragons, it was top-tier.
A cut above the nobles' whip-tail dragons, possessed only by the imperial family.
‘The emperor hates dragons, but it seems the rare imperial ones have survived.’
Owen recalled a recent rumor.
“I heard His Highness the Third Prince has come to Bris. Are you in his entourage, Lady Ventra?”
“Yes. His Highness is interested in you.”
“How could a humble soul like me warrant that?”
“No need for false modesty. We know all about what you've done in Bris lately.”
“Then I may have the honor of meeting His Highness?”
“That's for him to decide. I'll report our meeting as is.”
Only then did Alania's confidence return a bit.
Whether Owen met the prince depended on her.
Most people in his shoes would grovel to impress her.
But Owen was nonchalant.
“Ah, I see.”
His tone was as casual as if she'd told him the morning menu.
Whatever came for breakfast, it was all the same if his appetite was off.
In truth, he wasn't uninterested in central power.
He just had no fondness for the imperial family, thanks to memories of the emperor.
‘Probably just like his old man. I hear he likes dragons, but what's that scheming heart really after?’
Owen didn't see this as pure luck.
It could even turn poisonous.
“Report as you see fit, Lady Ventra. I'm worried I might fall short of His Highness's expectations, being so inadequate.”
“...Is that so?”
His unexpected attitude left Alania nonplussed, so he added,
“By the way, if His Highness is interested, he might enjoy visiting the 5th Dragon Stable.”
“Are you telling him to come first?”
“Heavens, no—how could I presume such disloyalty? It's just that in a few days, the moldy egg hatches. With all eyes on Bris, I thought His Highness might find it intriguing.”
“Ah...”
The excuse was plausible.
But his attitude said they could come or not as they pleased.
‘Not your average guy, this one.’
Alania clicked her tongue inwardly.
She'd expected him to bow for a shot at the prince, but she'd misjudged completely.
‘Wonder how His Highness will react.’
Alania finally admitted he was no pushover.
Staying longer might cost her more, so she stood.
Retreating now preserved her dignity.
“Understood. Until next time, Lord Leire.”
“Safe travels.”
In the days that followed, Bris buzzed endlessly about the stillborn from the 2nd Dragon Stable.
Especially since the dead dragon had looked so extraordinary, drawing pity everywhere.
Citizens chattered about it all over town.
“Such a shame. It could've grown into a fine guardian for the East.”
“Isn't it the stable manager's fault? Something went wrong in hatching, and the hatchling died.”
“Yeah, Albert's in a real pickle now.”
As the citizens said, Albert was in dire straits.
Nobles and commoners who'd bet on him raged like furious ogres.
“Albert! Get out here, you crooked-nosed bastard!”
“Where you hiding? I'll pluck every hair from your beard!”
Albert fled the mobs hunting him.
“Grr...! Such humiliation.”
He flew like a frightened bird to the mansion of Arhana, the moneylender.
“Don't worry, Lord Albert. I'll handle this somehow.”
“Arhana, thank you!”
With her help, Albert barely calmed the storm.
Her bribes softened the nobles' tempers enough to hear him out.
He quickly added that it wasn't over till it was over—Owen's egg could stillborn too, and he'd take responsibility once results were clear.
“As everyone knows, stillbirths happen. Especially in that notorious 5th Dragon Stable. No proper care there, so the odds are even higher.”
The nobles were stunned but helpless against Albert.
They secretly hoped for exactly that outcome.
Thus, Albert scraped through the crisis, and the next day, word came that Owen's egg was finally hatching.
“Let's go! Hurry!”
“To the 5th Dragon Stable!”
The early morning news had people pouring out of Bris without even breakfast.
Soon, the 5th Dragon Stable swarmed with crowds.
“When's the egg coming out?”
“Hatch it in front of everyone for fairness! Bring the egg!”
“Bet this one stillbirths too.”
Most had bet on Albert.
Thus, the crowd was largely hostile to Owen.
Albert seized the chance, ranting to stir them up.
“Everyone! This unworthy Albert has a few words.”
With that opener, he spouted nonsense.
Even if Owen's egg hatched normally, if it was worthless, it couldn't match his dead dragon.
A dead dragon better than a live one? Absurd, but he raved on.
“Think about it! My dragon was an unknown entity—no one knows the conditions for hatching or rearing. Naturally, that's an extreme challenge. But I, Albert, faced it fearlessly! Even in failure, is that worthy only of scorn?”
He claimed hatching a plain dragon was child's play.
“The world must sometimes remember hard failures over easy successes. Such efforts fuel progress for future generations!”
The bet was forgotten drivel, but the crowd ate it up.
Most had backed Albert, so even lame excuses sounded good.
“Right! Common dragons are a dime a dozen.”
“Yeah, Albert's feat means more!”
Those who'd bet on Owen protested, but numbers won out.
Watching, Owen smirked in disbelief.
‘What a desperate thrashing.’
It'd all end once the albino variant hatched.
It was no common dragon.
Even these loudmouths would go silent as graves.
Especially Albert's face—he couldn't wait to see it.
“Hmph...”
But the nonsense dragged on; maybe he should say something.
As Albert flailed his last and Owen pondered, a new figure arrived.
“His Highness the Prince!”
“What? The prince is here?”
The crowd parted in sudden clamor.
A dignified man appeared, escorted by knights in splendid attire.
The prince, in gilded armor, strode forth commandingly and bellowed,
“Where is Owen Leire?”
Ignoring nobles bowing and straining for eye contact, he sought Owen first.
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