Dragon Tournament: Team Battle (4)
Owen pondered how in the world intimacy could possibly be at zero.
'Maybe the owner ordered it to carry another dragon knight. Or perhaps they subdued it through some magical means...'
Either way, it was suspicious.
'Something's off.'
Thanks to his ability to see intimacy levels, Luke had instantly become a target of Owen's wariness.
It was the moment his carefully crafted identity disguise went up in smoke.
To Owen's great fortune, his enemies had no idea he'd received special powers from Tanares.
"Leire! Leire! Are you listening?!"
While Owen was lost in thought, Austin must have said something.
"Ah. Yeah, sure."
Lazily nodding to brush him off, Owen watched Austin puff up with pride and throw his shoulders back.
"Good! Smart choice! It won't be a bad deal for you either. I'll take that as acceptance! You better win this!"
He'd apparently tacked on some trivial condition.
But Owen didn't care much.
Austin kept talking after that, but Owen tuned him out entirely, scanning the dragons taking part in the tournament instead.
"Whoa...!"
Amid the swarm of dragons, Owen spotted one that stood out head and shoulders above the rest and let out a gasp of admiration.
Its potential was rated S-rank.
The first he'd seen since Grenville.
"Impressive..."
The dragon Owen was eyeing was a Northern Blue Tongue Dragon.
Blue Tongue Dragons came in many varieties, but the Northern ones were the largest of them all.
Its rider was no ordinary man either.
It was none other than Bernart Count, one of Surpuk Duke's famed Four Swords.
Finally, the last of the Four Swords had made his appearance.
"Hmmm..."
Owen couldn't help groaning at the aura emanating from the count, even from afar.
The count was still young, and Owen had no connection to him in his past life.
Yet Bernart Count, who appeared to be in his early thirties, exuded a presence that even made Owen Glendower—the hero of reversal—take notice.
'Remarkable. Even in my past life, dragon knights of that caliber were rare.'
Bernart Count was a lord, a dragon knight, and the commander who led the Eastern dragon knights in wartime.
While Bobert Count handled internal affairs, Russell Count diplomacy, and Drun Count military authority, Bernart had been put in charge of the dragons.
'He's a mountain I need to climb.'
Owen hoped to one day command all the dragons under Surpuk Duke.
The reason was simple.
Revenge against the orcs of the Eastern Plains.
In his past life, while Owen and Tanares had fallen into the emperor's trap and been hunted, there had been several legendary orc warriors among them.
He could never forget the orc axes clanging loudly against his armor or the spear tips tearing into Tanares's wing membranes.
'I remember it all. Wait for me. It won't be long before I come to sever your necks.'
As Owen silently vowed revenge, his eyes met Bernart Count's.
Though they were far apart, the count seemed to recognize him immediately.
"Hm?"
To his surprise, Bernart Count steered his dragon straight toward Owen.
The surrounding dragons parted to either side.
They were already keeping ample distance due to their massive sizes, but the way they hurried aside spoke volumes of the count's prestige.
Everyone murmured, watching the encounter between Owen and Bernart Count.
Even Surpuk Duke atop the city walls.
"That Owen kid draws eyes wherever he goes."
The duke watched with interest as the head of the Eastern dragon knights met the boy eager to take his place.
He planned to summon the count later and ask what they'd discussed.
"The count's coming."
Alania, standing nearby, spoke up.
The other imperial prince's knights, lined up with their dragons, nodded.
"Looks like he's coming to greet us."
Team leader Leon puffed out his chest, misreading the situation.
After all, the imposing Bernart Count was approaching first.
He took pride in being the prince's dragon knight.
But it was all wishful thinking.
Bernart Count ignored the prince's knights entirely and addressed Owen directly.
"You're Owen Leire?"
Arrogance laced the count's tone, but it suited him oddly well.
"Yes, Count."
"Call me 'Your Excellency.' I'm not just a count—I'm also commander of the Eastern Dragon Legion."
"Understood, Your Excellency."
With Surpuk Duke set to bolster his dragon forces going forward, Bernart Count's power would only grow.
Perhaps that's why he acted as if Owen was the only one worth his attention.
Leon, the group's representative, couldn't hide his displeasure, but the count spared him not a glance.
"I've heard the rumors about you, Leire."
"I'm ashamed it was such childish recklessness."
"Hmph! Already talking so slyly, kid. That Albert you took down—I was planning to deal with him myself. Thanks for saving me the hassle."
"You're too kind."
"But don't get cocky over it."
"I'll keep that in mind, Your Excellency."
"There are plenty who can brawl with lowly humans like you. But as Eastern dragon knights!"
Bernart Count bellowed, pointing east.
A week's ride in that direction lay the Eastern Plains, home to the orc tribes.
"What matters is how many orcs you can sweep away mounted on a dragon! Not wasting time slandering foes in taverns like you!"
The count glared at Owen.
Most people would fidget and bow under such a stare.
But Owen remained utterly composed.
"You're right, Your Excellency. I'd like to show you what I can do in that regard."
"Hmph, talking back even when I'm barking at you. Well, you've got spirit, at least."
Surprisingly, the count seemed to like that.
He said he'd keep an eye on Owen, then turned his dragon away.
As he departed, the prince's knights grumbled.
"What an arrogant bastard! We're the prince's knights. Ignoring us is as good as ignoring His Highness."
They seemed quite offended.
"We should show him what we're made of in the matches."
"Damn right."
They vowed personal revenge, but Owen just stared silently at the count's retreating back.
The dragons' parade ended amid fervent cheers.
Citizens atop the open walls screamed at the sight of the massive beasts marching by.
The older ones especially reminisced about the days when dragon knights had been plentiful.
"His Grace made the right call."
"Damn straight! Nothing else can stop the orc hordes."
Once the parade concluded, Surpuk Duke himself took the stage, declaring that this team battle wasn't mere sport—it was serious military training.
Draws for the brackets followed, and the prince's team got their first opponent.
The 3rd Dragon Stable.
Leon asked, "Sir Leire, you should know them well. What's the 3rd Dragon Stable like?"
Owen explained what he knew.
They were commoner dragon riders doubling as breeders, and overall, their dragons and gear were subpar.
Everyone perked up.
"Lucky us—easy matchup."
"From the parade, their dragons looked pretty pathetic."
"Team comp's two mediums and three smalls. With so few mediums, they had to pad with smalls. We can crush them in one go."
Owen cautioned against Leon, Dento, and Huid's optimism.
"The riders also handle breeding, so their intimacy with the dragons is sky-high. Don't underestimate them."
Alania added, "During the parade, I saw the 3rd Stable riders. Their eyes were piercing. One stared right through us—gave me chills."
Despite Owen and Alania's warnings, the others thought victory was a sure thing.
Leader Leon joked around, "Probably just mesmerized by Lady Ventra's beauty. Haha!"
"No, Sir Leon. He was definitely eyeing our dragons. Nodding to himself like he'd figured something out."
Leon downed his drink and shook his head.
"Even if so, no worries. I wasn't slacking either. Checked their two mediums—they're both old as dirt."
As team leader, Leon had his own sharp eye.
"Lady Ventra, you're the flag-bearer, so just focus on that. We'll handle the rest. Same for you, Sir Leire. Thief role's important."
"Yes."
"But you won't have much to do this match. First team battle, so roam free, scout the situation. Watch how the veterans do it."
Owen and Alania exchanged wry smiles.
No choice with the opponent talking like that.
Couldn't start infighting before facing a non-threatening foe.
"Got it."
"Understood."
With Alania and Owen agreeing, Leon dove into strategy.
"Alright, I'll lead the charge. Follow my lead."
Leon spoke with passion, but he seemed overly eager.
In truth, he was furious at being ignored by Bernart Count during the parade.
He felt pressured to rack up feats in the matches and grab attention.
Figured a stellar performance would force the count's respect.
Unaware of this, Alania and Owen just watched him uneasily.
Three days later, match day arrived for the prince's team versus the 3rd Dragon Stable.
Several teams had already fought, winners and losers decided.
'Bernart Count's Team'—all knights stabling at the 1st—and Austin's 'Erinyes' had both won.
"Erinyes?!"
Owen groaned at the blatantly obvious team name.
Erinyes meant the goddesses of vengeance.
"It's downright juvenile!"
Alania chuckled beside him.
"Bracket says we face them if we win this. They're thrilled."
"What a pain."
Alania mounted her massive dragon, a tall flag planted in the saddle.
She was flag-bearer today.
Surprisingly, she had two imperial dragons.
Besides the small 'Depresa' for VIP escort, she'd unleashed a medium Hosmer Dragon, stunning Owen.
"The more I see it, the more amazing this dragon is."
Owen kept admiring Alania's Hosmer Dragon.
Its scales blended black, white, and brown, with a long tail covered in spines.
"Perk of serving the prince. Not because I'm special."
"Modest of you. Imperial dragons aren't for just anyone. And you have two."
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Owen couldn't help raising his internal opinion of Alania Ventra.
Beyond pretty and smart, she had something.
"Match starts soon! Prepare!"
The mounted referee blew his horn as he rode around.
Bwooooo—!
Owen gave Alania a light salute and urged Grenville forward.
Today, he was free position.
Could join attacks or defenses as needed, or guard flag-bearer Alania.
Though Leon apparently wanted him to stand idle and let them show off.
"Hm..."
Owen surveyed the arena first.
Mostly open grassland, with a shallow ditch dipping down on the left.
The ditch ran through a gully-like depression, shallow enough for humans to wade.
'I see why they chose this as the arena.'
The gully was narrow—only smalls could pass.
While mediums clashed on the grass, smalls could flank through it.
A boon for teams short on mediums.
'Real battlefields have all terrains, and smalls are essential. Smart choice. Medium-heavy teams will struggle.'
Pure grassland favored medium-heavy comps, but Surpuk Duke wasn't having that.
"Match begins!"
The referee blew the horn again—two blasts signaling start.
Leon and Dento on mediums charged confidently. Huid, on the largest medium—a black spiky-tailed dragon—stayed back for defense.
His massive bulk was like a black rampart; the 3rd Stable's three smalls seemed helpless.
"Hm?"
But for some reason, the 3rd Stable riders looked thrilled.
No hint of surrender.
"...Something's about to pop off."
Owen had a sudden hunch.
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