Dragon Tournament Team Battle (9)
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“An adopted daughter?”
Even the sharp-minded Owen couldn’t help but look dazed right now.
He’d chased a suspicious figure deep into the night, only to end up connected to the Surpuk Duke’s adopted daughter somehow. It made no sense.
A blade was at his throat, but the word “adopted daughter” gnawed at him more.
“That’s right. My adopted daughter.”
As Owen’s face filled with confusion, the Surpuk Duke confirmed it once more.
Owen quickly recalled his liege’s family tree.
The duke had three sons. The eldest commanded the fortresses on the eastern front.
He was a sturdy bulwark, standing against the orcs to protect humanity at the forefront.
The second son was held hostage in the capital.
Sent as a ward from boyhood, he was treated well there and seen as someone swayed by the emperor.
The third son lived in Bris but was frail, confined to his sickbed.
Whispers said the young lord was on his last legs.
But a daughter?
It was like thunder in a dream—totally out of nowhere.
“I knew of only three sons, Your Grace.”
“That’s the public story.”
“But isn’t she imperial royalty?”
Her wig was already off, revealing lustrous crimson hair.
It was too late to claim ignorance of her imperial blood.
“Indeed, she’s imperial. Is there a law saying royalty can’t be adopted?”
“Well, no, but…”
“Never mind that. How long do you plan to stay tangled up like that? Her figure’s exceptional, I grant you, but this is excessive.”
The duke swept the blade away with a tsk, and Owen snapped to his senses, scrambling up.
“Ah!”
The imperial girl darted behind the duke as well.
“Owen.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Why do you think I revealed she’s my adopted daughter?”
“Well…”
“Simple. To ensure you can’t walk away from this easily.”
“……”
“Now you know a vital secret: that I have an adopted daughter, and that she’s imperial. No brushing it off as a mere accident now. Heh heh heh.”
The Surpuk Duke stroked his neatly trimmed beard with a wicked grin.
He was clearly scheming something nasty.
Owen felt like he’d stepped into deep mire.
No backing out now.
The duke’s relaxed demeanor treated him like a rat in a trap.
In truth, the duke had been quite startled finding Owen entwined with his adopted daughter in the wine cellar.
But his shrewd mind seized the opportunity.
“Follow me. We can’t talk here.”
The duke grabbed a nearby wine bottle and led the way.
Up the stairs they went, into the palace’s private quarters.
The duke’s family living space.
As he walked ahead, the duke scolded Owen.
“Only my closest enter here. Never dreamed someone would sneak in from below.”
“My apologies, Your Grace.”
The duke led them to a small room adjoining his bedroom.
Overlooking the garden, it was where he sipped tea and read reports alone.
“Sit, Owen.”
The duke and Owen sat across the table.
The imperial girl stood silently behind the duke.
To Owen, it looked oddly natural.
Not just disguised as a maid—her demeanor was a maid’s.
A night full of rising questions.
“Make your excuses.”
“Understood.”
Owen calmly explained how the incident unfolded.
The duke chuckled dryly as he listened.
“Heh heh…”
He’d assumed some circumstance from the start.
But spotting her imperial traits at city hall and tailing her?
The duke glanced back; his adopted daughter looked embarrassed.
She’d realized her mistake.
Who’d have thought the wig was the issue?
Instead of scolding, the duke asked her.
“Is what he says true?”
The girl nodded.
“Yes. No lies, no excuses, Your Grace.”
“I see. I grasp the situation.”
The duke’s stern face softened. He even poured Owen a glass of wine.
His kindly smile was almost grandfatherly.
“Owen, I wrongly doubted your loyalty. Who’d have thought such a thing happened.”
“I regret the late-night disturbance. And for offending your adopted daughter—I beg forgiveness.”
“No need for that.”
The duke called her to his side.
“Her name is Tia. Sixteen, same as you.”
“I see. Imperial royalty, yet in maid’s garb?”
“Royalty, yes, but Tia’s never set foot in the capital. She’s spent her life in these quarters. Poor girl. No need to see her as royalty—she’s never enjoyed a single privilege of it.”
Tia stood expressionless, far more composed now.
The lively faces from the chase were gone.
The duke glanced at her and asked.
“Isn’t she beautiful? I’ve never seen such peerless beauty in my life.”
It was true enough.
Owen agreed.
His eyes hadn’t strayed easily since earlier.
“Many knights would stake their lives for her, I wager.”
“Hahaha! Quite right.”
Nodding in satisfaction, the duke asked slyly.
“What say you? Take her as yours?”
“Pardon? What do you—”
“Nothing strange about it. A lord forging deep ties with a vassal makes them family.”
“Your Grace.”
“You’ve earned my favor. I’ve watched you since Bris—my judgment holds. And as Leire’s son, all the more trustworthy.”
“I’m grateful for your kind regard.”
“I lack a true daughter, but I’ve this adopted one I’ve cherished long. She’d be the empire’s greatest beauty—no exaggeration. Any man would covet her.”
“But…”
“Her royalty’s no issue. Hide it, and all’s well. She’ll need to be more careful with that wig from now on.”
The duke added that accepting would mean his full backing.
“You know I favor you, Owen. You aim for eastern dragon commander, yes? With my support, it’s yours! Of course!”
Chuckling heartily, he turned serious.
“Will you accept?”
“Your Grace.”
“Simple: embrace this beauty. Tia won’t refuse. Right?”
Tia answered calmly to the duke’s question.
“I’ll follow your will, Your Grace.”
“Hahaha, good girl. Now, your answer, Owen.”
The duke watched Owen with a smile.
He’d been stern, demanding excuses moments ago—now pushing his adopted daughter on him.
‘He toys with people, reeling them in and out.’
Any ordinary man would accept.
Out of fear.
Knowing the duke’s whims ruled their fate, they’d yield to his smiling face.
Or covet the dazzling beauty.
But Owen fit neither.
Suspicion had bloomed when the duke played the benevolent sage.
“Your Grace, I’m grateful, but I must decline.”
The duke erupted in fury.
“What!”
He slammed the table.
Bang!
It shook as if to shatter; wine glasses toppled. Owen didn’t blink.
“As I said.”
“You whelp! You mock me? Dare refuse my offer!”
“I need no backing to rise.”
“What?”
Owen stated firmly.
“You know I seek eastern dragon command. But by my own merit, not a patron’s favor.”
“Such confidence.”
“Your Grace, a true man needs this ambition and faith for his dreams. Not chasing the empire’s top beauty.”
“Heh heh!”
The duke flashed a different smile—not the kindly grandfather act, but his true, cold one.
“Your Grace, positions must be earned by ability alone. That’s why I refuse.”
Owen had seen through the test.
So he gave the answer the duke craved.
The duke endlessly suspected and tested until convinced of loyalty.
His four swords—the counts—had all passed.
This trial itself showed high expectations.
Offering his adopted daughter wasn’t casual.
‘This one’s a gem. The more I see, the better I like him.’
The duke was pleased; Owen’s response mirrored his own values.
Tempted by backing or her looks? Disappointment.
Such men were useless.
“Then what? You learned two secrets I hid, even if from loyalty.”
“Secrets stay secret if lips are sealed. Why hold me accountable?”
“What? You—!”
“I pursued her royalty from duty; you revealed the adoption. I swear by the gods I won’t speak of tonight. That’s my full accountability.”
“Heh heh!”
Owen’s brazenness left the duke speechless.
It was fact.
The duke had sought leverage for obligations but faltered.
Owen pounced.
“Your Grace, true accountability demands one precondition.”
“What?”
“Truth. Too many questions about your adopted daughter. Why is royalty the eastern power’s ward? Why hide as a maid here? Why sneak out during the festival? All suspicious.”
“Hmmm…”
Pressed, the duke looked uncomfortable, loosening his collar and scratching his neck.
“Share those truths, and I’ll treat her with utmost responsibility. Otherwise, hold me blameless.”
Bold before the eastern hegemon.
Tia’s gaze shifted, watching silently.
Her earlier grudge from the chase faded; she saw Owen anew.
‘Of course, Sir Leire did no wrong. Anyone would find me suspicious.’
Tia was wise.
Shock gone, she understood his position.
She sided with him.
“Your Grace, Sir Leire is right.”
“What? Defending him? How’s his attitude loyal!”
The duke bristled at her.
Not about right or wrong—hurt feelings.
“Tonight was an accident. Should Sir Leire have ignored a suspicious figure?”
“Even so, keep going!”
Sulky, the duke dug in stubbornly.
“Accidents happen endlessly. Ignore every outcome? What happened in that brief moment! Now you side with him!”
Tia grew annoyed too.
“What happened? You’ve always demanded modesty—I’ve never disobeyed. How can you doubt me so easily?”
Faced with her stern retort, even the mighty duke was stumped.
“Ahem… well. Heh heh!”
“If you insist, I have a thought, Your Grace.”
“What?”
Tia glanced at Owen.
“Sir Leire, I’ll explain my outing. Your Grace ordered it.”
“What! Silence!”
The duke’s eyes bulged, but Tia dropped the bomb.
“I collected betting payout from the city hall clerk. But what money does a poor maid have?”
“I said quiet!”
“Truth is, Your Grace placed it through me—on the prince’s team, after Sir Leire joined.”
With that, Tia stepped behind Owen, pulling a check from her bosom and pressing it into his hand.
“Here, Sir Leire. The hilt is yours.”
Owen was caught off-guard.
The amount was huge at a glance.
The duke fumed at his own money, but Tia showed no fear.
Owen noted their odd bond was still father-daughter.
No true daughter would get away with such insolence otherwise.
Tia drove the wedge home.
“By eastern law, proxy betting’s illegal. You approved it yourself. No one dreamed you’d break it.”
“What!”
“Tremble your beard all you like—it changes nothing. If Sir Leire judges right, he should return that check to city hall.”
“Tia! You—!”
“Your Grace! Isn’t that the loyalty you preach?”
Stunned by her words, the duke gaped blankly.
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