Dragon Tournament Team Battle (10)
It's a common saying that daughters take after their fathers, and watching them, it rang true.
Adopted daughter or not, their temperaments are exactly the same.
While Tia and the Surpuk Duke bickered, Owen examined the check.
800 Gold Coins
It was more than the special budget he'd fought tooth and nail to secure.
Old fox. Sneaking his adopted daughter into the betting pool. How sly.
Owen had never imagined the lord of the East making pocket money like this.
A bit miffed himself, he slipped into the father-daughter spat.
"Your Grace, fairness isn't so complicated. It can start with returning this check to its rightful place."
"What, even you lecturing me now? Do you want to be stripped of your rank?!"
The Surpuk Duke bellowed, but Tia seized the opening and pounced.
"Your Grace! Is this how you treat the knights in your service?"
"What nonsense now?!"
"You beam with delight when a knight brings profit, but scold and push away at the first sign of loss."
"No, this isn't pushing away..."
The Surpuk Duke tried to backpedal in a hurry, but Tia latched on and wouldn't let go.
"Your Grace—no, Father. You've always told me: keep the loyal close, shun the wicked."
"Y-yes, I have. And that's what I'm doing."
"Then is an angry outburst reason to cut loose the loyal?"
"......"
"Even a fool like me can see it: reward the loyal to draw them near, punish the wicked to keep them at bay. Simple logic even a child grasps."
Sweat beaded on the Surpuk Duke's forehead.
He was growing anxious about what his adopted daughter might say next.
"If you preach it but don't live it, those who look to you alone will be disappointed. When Sir Leire exposed Baron Maroon's corruption, did you reward him? From what I know, you hanged the baron from the gallows but gave Sir Leire nothing extra."
"I approved a special budget for the 5th Dragon Stable because of that. That's reward enough..."
"No, that just benefits Your Grace's own stables, doesn't it? What did Sir Leire personally gain? Father, it's tragic how eager you are to punish but turn a blind eye to rewards."
"......So what are you getting at, Tia?"
"Simple."
Tia pointed at the check in Owen's hand.
"The check's already in Sir Leire's hands. Bestow it as is."
"What? What?!"
The Surpuk Duke's eyes bulged at the prospect of losing 800 gold coins out of the blue.
Owen was just as stunned.
He'd only been spectating the squabble, not expecting this windfall.
This is my chance!
Owen didn't hesitate, prostrating himself flat on the floor.
"Your Grace! Such lofty grace! I know not where to put myself!"
"This is absurd! I haven't bestowed it! Get up!"
It was like the man and woman were tag-teaming a massive prey: the Surpuk Duke.
Tia wielded refinement, Owen shamelessness, both hammering away relentlessly.
The pair who'd chased each other through the underground tomb moments ago now moved in perfect sync.
"Father, you've praised Sir Leire's merit many times, but empty words without grace are like a sack without grain or an empty cart."
Owen clasped his hands in feigned emotion.
"Your Grace! To think so highly of this unworthy servant—my heart overflows with gratitude!"
The Surpuk Duke could only clutch his neck at their scheme.
But refusing the check now would tarnish his image as the East's overlord.
Plus, using his adopted daughter for secret bets was undeniably shady.
"Father, if you're hesitating over a mere check, how will your reputation stay untarnished in the East?"
At this point, the Surpuk Duke figured taking credit might be the lesser evil.
He inwardly cursed himself for riling up his daughter's temper.
"Damn it all..."
Muttering under his breath, he swallowed his tears and decided to hand over the winnings.
"Fine. Upon reflection, I've neglected to reward you properly, Owen. Take the check and use it wisely. But squander it, and I won't forgive you!"
"Your Grace! Your nobility! I shall obey utterly!"
Prostrated, Owen fought a grin, unable to lift his head.
Thanks to the adopted daughter's bombshell, he'd fleeced the duke's fortune.
Never thought I'd live to see the day.
As the Surpuk Duke glared resentfully, Tia quipped primly.
"Truth stings the ears, Father. That's the way of it."
"Quiet! They say raising a daughter is pointless—I feel it today."
Thoroughly irked, the duke snatched back the wine glass he'd given Owen earlier and waved them off.
"Sneak into the palace like this again, and you'll regret it! Tia, see Owen out. Lest he wander astray again."
"Understood."
As the Surpuk Duke stormed off snorting, Tia beckoned Owen.
"Shall we, Sir Leire?"
With her father gone, Tia fell silent once more.
Her excited nagging seemed reserved for the duke alone.
The two walked the underground tomb in wordless quiet.
Click-clack.
Only the echo of her heels filled the passage.
Owen trailed silently, pondering her true nature.
Adopted daughter or not, mysteries abounded.
I need an excuse to meet again...
An idea struck him.
"Lady Tia."
"Just Tia. I'm merely a handmaid."
"A mere disguise. I dare not address my lord's daughter so."
"Whatever suits you."
"I'm grateful for the check."
"No matter. I just couldn't stand Father. Don't worry over it."
"800 gold coins aren't trivial. Since I didn't earn it alone, I'd like to give half to you, Lady Tia."
"Half?"
"Yes. May I deliver it later?"
Tia naturally refused.
But Owen pressed on.
After several polite declines, she wavered.
Guilt over hogging it alone? Or keeping the lord's adopted daughter as accomplice to the end?
If the latter, she ought to indulge him.
For me, a scolding at worst. But for a subordinate, terrifying.
Tia inwardly accepted.
She had no greed for gold anyway.
Take it or leave it.
But something fun to spend it on? Perfect.
"Ah!"
She clapped as it hit her.
"Give it. But I'll bet it instead."
"Bet?"
"Yes. On the prince's team winning the next match. What say you?"
"400 gold coins?"
"Why? Lack confidence?"
"No. I can crush them."
Tia smiled faintly at Owen's bold vow.
His charm seemed to glow in the gloom.
"With your confidence, I'll make a fortune next match."
"Do you need the money for something?"
"Didn't before. But now I have an idea. What to do with it."
A fun scheme bloomed in Tia's mind.
Owen would be shocked.
Curious about his face then, she felt a thrill.
"Hee-hee."
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The day before the prince's team faced Austin's Erynnis squad.
Three figures—man and women—scouted the arena under cover of night.
Baron Magnus, the moneylender Arhana, and the body-modified mercenary Luke.
Undaunted by the pitch blackness, they moved with purpose.
"Interesting terrain."
Magnus crested a hill, surveying the designated field.
A vast plain bisected by a small forest at center.
Paths to the enemy's flag flanked the woods on either side.
"Attack or defense means little here. Teams split two-two and clash on the flanks usually."
"Can't use the central woods?"
Arhana asked, and Magnus cited the rules.
"Paths thread the woods, but only small types fit. The Surpuk Duke ruled no damaging the forest. Otherwise, mediums could bulldoze through."
"Then that Owen boy could sneak through the center."
"Right. The prince's team has that massive black thorn-tail dragon. It'll hold one flank alone. Freeing Owen to slip through the woods. We target that."
"Perfect. Assassinate in the woods, hard to pinpoint what happened."
Match victory mattered little to them.
Killing Owen mid-battle was key.
Luke, disguised as Albert family, would slip away at the right moment and strike from the trees.
"But Sir Magnus, Similis dragons are medium-sized. Can it enter the woods?"
"No worry. It's a forest-dweller by nature. Long but slender. Slithers like a snake."
Extremely put, the Similis was sardine-shaped.
Elongated, unlike bulkier mediums, it navigated woods fluidly.
Unlike the goatee dragon Mungtungkuri from Owen's farm days, which smashed trees en route.
"What matters is after the boy dies. You care more about Owen's death, Sir Magnus, but for me, the aftermath counts."
"Spare the nagging. I know why you're cozying up to the Alberts."
Arhana the black widow didn't tank the 2nd Stable's Albert just to use him as dragon handler.
It was the Albert main house's unique position in the East.
The Alberts held land closest to the capital.
They'd long eyed jumping to imperial direct rule.
Emperors welcomed it, but clashes with eastern lords always thwarted them.
Thus, Albert lands were a powder keg.
"Sir Magnus, why do you think a dark elf like me schemes here? To tear this land asunder."
"Ha! Ambitious one!"
"Think I can't? Succeed here, and it's feasible."
A young favorite of the Surpuk Duke slain by an Albert knight.
An accident, sure, but awkward.
The Alberts already unpopular in the East.
Arhana planned to sow terror among them.
She'd infiltrated a key Albert post under another guise already.
Master of disguise and acting, it was child's play.
"This is just the start of my plan."
"We'll see if it works."
"Sir Magnus, you'd welcome the East fracturing into war. Or you'll stay a baron forever."
"Music to my ears. Finally starting? The East has been too peaceful..."
"Yes. The season of sword and death returns. Just before dragon knights rise again. Perfect timing."
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