The Dragon No One Could Tame (3)
People flocked in, their faces alight with barely contained curiosity.
"Come on, tell us!"
"Why does jaundice happen?"
Owen had completely taken control of the atmosphere.
Magnus, who had been watching the situation unfold, broke out in a cold sweat.
But there was nothing he could do right now.
"Jaundice occurs when the liver is overburdened from improper feed."
"Improper feed?"
"What do you mean by that?"
The crowd reacted immediately.
"First, let me mention something. As many of you know, whip-tail dragons are herbivores. They're said to struggle to build mass because they eat grass clumps."
"Is that not the case?"
A dragon knight asked with keen interest.
Owen nodded.
"Of course it is. If being herbivorous meant they couldn't gain weight, cows would just be bags of bones wandering around."
"You're right about that."
"The key point isn't their herbivorous nature—it's that whip-tail dragons aren't native to our continent. Coming from another land, they can't consume the vital plants from their homeland, and that's the root of the problem."
Owen's explanation sounded plausible, and many leaned in, ears perked.
"That's why the Empire needs so much time and effort to bulk up those dragons. But there's a shortcut that's harmful to the dragon yet immediately effective—and that's the cause of Sir Magnus's dragon's jaundice."
The murmurs swelled.
The area grew noisy on all sides.
"What the hell is that method?"
"Spit it out already!"
"Hurry up!"
Magnus now felt sweat streaming down, soaking even his nape.
The revelation that would ruin him was moments away.
He wanted to leap onto the platform and clamp shut that insolent brat Owen's mouth.
But then Magnus noticed something.
Bobert Count was muttering to him, and the swordmasters guarding the count nodded.
If he tried to intervene, those formidable swordmasters would surely block him.
As the two sides locked eyes in a tense standoff, Owen coolly dropped the bombshell.
"It's simple. Feeding meat to whip-tail dragons!"
"What?"
"No way! That's insane!"
"But they're herbivores!"
The crowd shouted in confusion.
It sounded too absurd.
But Owen faced them without losing a shred of composure.
He who had once addressed countless soldiers in his past life—this was child's play.
"Whip-tail dragons are indeed herbivores. But they can eat meat too. It's written in Dragons of Other Continents. Do any dragon knights here know of this?"
As Owen raised his hand and asked, eyes turned to the dragon knights.
Amid the baffled expressions, one elderly knight nodded.
"It's not wrong."
His words drew interest from the other knights.
"Really?"
"Yeah. Lately, fights with human enemies have dwindled for some reason—feels ominous, like the calm before the storm. Anyway... back in the day, wars washed blood with blood nonstop. I saw whip-tail dragons tearing into enemy corpses plenty of times."
"No way!"
"Normally, they devour lentils, cabbage, carrots, rabbit grass, zucchini. But in wartime, supplying wagon after wagon of veggies is no easy feat. Naturally, the hungriest ones started eating enemy flesh. But accidents always followed."
The old knight's testimony was decisive.
Owen seized the moment.
"Esteemed knight with experience. One question: Didn't those meat-eating whip-tail dragons show jaundice in their eyes?"
The old knight stroked his beard thoughtfully, then nodded.
"Hmm... yeah. Now that you mention it..."
Murmurs swelled again.
The area buzzed.
Owen called out to them.
"Obviously, it's disastrous for their health. They bulk up fast, but it wrecks the liver. Jaundice signals liver damage. And the side effects don't stop there."
Forcing a herbivore to eat meat triggers sudden bodily anomalies.
They fall into uncontrollable hunger, even devouring people in some cases.
That's why feeding meat to whip-tail dragons is strictly forbidden.
As Owen explained, the noise grew louder.
"Meat belongs in omnivores and carnivores. Sir Magnus, I must ask: Was this solely your retainers' unauthorized act?"
"You bastard!"
"Wartime aside, in peacetime, you can't claim proper management."
Magnus nearly lost his temper at Owen's trap.
This kid's silver tongue is dangerous.
But Magnus still had an escape.
"Amusing tale. But you know one thing and not the other."
"What do you mean?"
"Jaundice isn't always from meat. Even veggies can overburden the liver if contaminated."
Magnus summoned his retainer.
The man looked baffled.
But Magnus whispered a threat.
"Agree with me unconditionally. Or I'll have your head."
"Y-yes, Sir Magnus."
Satisfied, Magnus turned to Owen.
"Whip-tails are herbivores, but beets, broccoli, kale don't suit them."
"I know."
"And even carrots harm if the leafy tops aren't trimmed."
Owen instantly saw through Magnus's excuse.
Thinks he can slip away. But he's still in my palm.
He smirked inwardly and calmly countered.
"Is that so?"
"Of course. Looks like this fool slipped up."
Magnus grabbed his retainer's collar and shoved him forward.
The panicked man apologized profusely.
"I'm sorry! Sir Magnus! Carrots need tops trimmed, but the dragon eats so much, I fed them whole!"
Magnus's followers chimed in approvingly.
"Ah, that explains it! Your fault, you idiot!"
"Sir Magnus wouldn't err. Blame the retainer!"
Onlookers nodded one by one.
Sacrificing his own man as a scapegoat. Shameless for a knight.
But to Owen, it was laughable.
"Plausible explanation. But how do you answer this, Sir Magnus?"
"Answer what?"
"Everyone, look at Sir Magnus's dragon. White powder near its nose, right?"
People finally noticed, intrigued.
Owen revealed it was salt.
"That salt on its nose is ironclad proof it ate meat."
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"How can you be sure?"
Magnus now glared murderously at Owen.
But Owen's smile deepened.
He could see the foe's irritating mask cracking bit by bit.
Like fissures spreading.
"Sir Magnus. Whip-tail dragons excrete excess salt through mucus. Didn't you know?"
"I know. What does that have to do with meat?"
"Everything. Because salted meat is far cheaper."
Someone in the crowd gasped and clapped.
"Salted meat!"
"Exactly!"
In the Empire, new salt production had slashed salted meat prices compared to fresh.
Owen allowed no rebuttals.
"To cheaply feed that massive dragon, cheap salted meat is ideal. Can't give a whole cow per meal. But excess salt leaves those nose marks inevitably."
"No, that's..."
"Still not convinced? Haha, tougher than you look. Fine, Sir Magnus. One more: Why no grass clumps torn around it?"
Whip-tails don't live on weeds but nibble nearby like human snacks when bored.
Yet Magnus's sat on grass without a single grazed patch.
"It ate plenty yesterday, so..."
Magnus stammered, but Owen cut in sharply.
"Of course. But was it veggies? If so, may I check your baggage? Probably just wagons of salted meat instead."
"......"
Magnus went pale, speechless.
The crowd erupted.
"Show the baggage!"
"If nothing's fishy, what's the harm?"
"Come on!"
The public has a nose for this.
They already knew Owen spoke truth.
Stimulated by the scandal, they gleefully hounded Magnus.
"Hurry up!"
"This is getting good!"
Humans love seeing the mighty fall.
If Magnus remained revered, maybe restraint—but weakness exposed, they tore in.
Even rival dragon knights joined, whom he'd long irked.
"Sir Magnus. Comply. I trust you."
"Indeed. Reveal the truth and punish that arrogant Owen. I'll help then."
Concerned tones masked devilish grins.
Kuhahaha! Serves you right! Always acting superior!
Knew it from your solo swagger. Feels damn good.
As the uproar peaked, Owen raised a hand.
Like a signal, silence fell.
Bathed in attention, Owen asked Magnus.
"Your decision, Sir Magnus? Reveal the baggage yourself to clear suspicions?"
"You bastard!"
"Haha, I hear you. No need to shout. Of course, not your fault again? Your uneducated retainers neglected it?"
"Shut up! Shut your mouth!"
Magnus's composure shattered for the first time.
Eyes bloodshot, he bellowed.
Stunned onlookers murmured.
Some knights smirked secretly.
Owen looked down smugly from the platform.
"It's fine, Sir Magnus. How could it be your fault? But training wayward retainers is a knight's duty, no?"
Owen flung back Magnus's earlier sneer at Bobert Count verbatim.
Magnus's face twisted in humiliation.
"How dare you! Who do you think you're talking to?"
"Haha, not accusing you. Just saying: manage your retainers before badmouthing Bobert Count's."
Owen knew Magnus yearned to strike him dead.
So he emphasized being Bobert's retainer.
Not true, but if the foe assumed it, why correct?
Best to exploit.
As long as Owen played Bobert's man, Magnus couldn't attack here.
It'd clash with Bobert Count outright—suicide in the East.
Damn, toyed with by a whelp!
Magnus couldn't accept it.
He'd expected easy victory.
Yet dismissed this kid had played him fully.
His head spun with shame.
People whispered about him already.
No choice. Cover with something bigger.
Magnus figured taming Super Red would bury this.
But Owen had anticipated, clinging to Magnus's last card.
"Sir Magnus. If it's trouble, I won't dig further. But one thing clear:"
"What?"
"Insulting me needlessly shamed Bobert Count. If I deserved it, fine—but the issue was yours."
"......"
"Naturally, you should apologize to Bobert Count properly."
Magnus knew dragging worsened it. He sought quick closure.
"Ugh... what do you want?"
Owen smiled triumphantly.
"Simple. Forfeit challenging Super Red. You're not the man for it."
"What! You say what?!"
Magnus paled as if stabbed through the heart.
Owen stroked his chin, chuckling.
"Sadly, taming Super Red will be my solo challenge."
Of course, he had no such intent.
Let it bite off an arm? No point stopping otherwise.
Just pressuring since Magnus saw it as his lifeline.
Can't avoid both challenging. But extract concessions.
Dragons cost to maintain.
He could squeeze that from Magnus.
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