Unexpected Visit (4)
Owen flinched at the swirling vortex of desire in Tia's eyes.
But the business that had brought him here came first.
“I need help from the 3rd Dragon Stable, Lady Tia.”
For starters, Owen brought up his conversation with the Surpuk Duke and requested medium dragons from the 3rd.
Tia took an immediate interest.
“Impressive as always, Sir Leire. You're really going up against the 1st Dragon Stable, home to the empire's finest specimens.”
“I absolutely need at least one medium dragon.”
“You think that'll be enough?”
“Pardon?”
“From what I hear, you're the only one in the 5th who can even ride a dragon.”
“...That's why I plan to contact the knights who've left their dragons at the 5th.”
Tia shook her head at Owen's words.
“Team battles hinge on coordination. You can't just scrape together a group on short notice and expect them to work together.”
It was spot on.
Owen had been bitterly missing the crown prince's team, which had returned to the capital just days ago, while preparing for this match.
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He'd planned to fill out the numbers somehow and build a strategy around himself and Finn as the core.
Tia had seen right through it and called him out.
“You're right, but I don't see another way...”
“What if you just shifted your thinking a little, Sir Leire?”
“Do you have a solution in mind?”
“It looks like the 5th Dragon Stable is short-handed for the team event and needs our cooperation from the 3rd, right?”
“Yes.”
“But what if, from the start, the 3rd and 5th entered as a joint team?”
Owen grasped her meaning instantly.
As excitement lit his face, Tia gave a small nod.
“That way, you could form a team with our skilled riders from the 3rd. And our abilities go without saying.”
The 3rd Dragon Stable was unique in that its breeders rode the dragons themselves.
This meant high intimacy with their dragons and top-tier coordination among riders.
In that regard, they weren't inferior to the 1st's knights.
The only shortfall was lacking high-grade or rare dragons.
But Owen believed skill could overcome that.
“A fine proposal. But I wasn't pushing just the 5th out of vanity. His Grace had given specific instructions, so I aimed for limited cooperation from the 3rd.”
“If you like this idea, don't worry about it. I'll speak to His Grace. It's a chance to make a name for the 3rd—and honestly, that's my real goal.”
Owen couldn't help thinking how convenient it was to befriend the daughter of a power broker.
If she was this confident, smoothing things over would be simple.
“Understood.”
Owen felt elated.
With Tia's help, he could assemble a far stronger team than expected.
Five days later, the Surpuk Duke's entourage departed Bris.
With around 1,100 personnel, preparing supplies had taken several all-nighters.
Even so, they couldn't stock everything and planned a second supply convoy to join later.
The citizens of Bris wondered where the duke was rushing off to in such haste.
But no one knew the answer.
Most of the duke's followers didn't even know their destination.
“Do you know where we're headed?”
“No idea. We just follow His Grace's orders.”
In this uneasy atmosphere, the Surpuk Duke revealed the journey's purpose three days in.
It was shocking.
The dark elf queen had arrived in the eastern region via the North Sea, and the duke was going to meet her.
Naturally, it sent ripples through everyone who saw dark elves solely as humanity's enemies.
“What? Has His Grace lost his mind?”
“Watch your tongue!”
“No, but with everything so chaotic already, dark elves?”
“He must have deep reasons. With orcs on the horizon, maybe he's seeking peace with the dark elves?”
Debate raged everywhere.
Some from the capital were open-minded about dark elves, but the eastern natives were not.
Owen felt the tension in the camp too.
The dragon riders from the 3rd Dragon Stable, now his teammates, voiced their concerns.
“Sir Leire, does that mean this match is happening in front of dark elves?”
Finn spoke for the group.
“That's right. You saying we can't fight in front of humanity's enemies?”
“No, of course not. We're the discriminated dragon riders. No reason to hesitate when glory's at hand.”
The others, who'd been uneasy, nodded at Finn's words.
There were four of them, including Finn.
The moment the Surpuk Duke approved, Owen had filled the team—excluding himself—with 3rd Stable riders.
“Thank you for that, Finn. We needn't concern ourselves with politics. His Grace meeting the dark elf queen must have profound intent. A splendid match is all that matters, no? I can already picture those dark elves gaping at our dragons.”
“Hahaha!”
The 3rd riders burst into cheerful laughter at Owen's words.
As he smoothed the mood, an utterly unexpected guest arrived for Owen.
Brasiana, the dark elf.
“...You're a master of disguise, indeed.”
Owen marveled at the Brasiana before him.
The inherently seductive dark elf now looked every inch the plump, elderly maidservant.
“It's my specialty.”
“So, what brings you here?”
“What do you mean? I'm here to connect you with Her Majesty the Queen. That's my mission.”
Brasiana explained she was devising ways for Owen and the queen to meet naturally amid the situation.
Owen informed her of the upcoming dragon match.
“Hmm... I see. That could be useful. Oh, but first, more important matters.”
“Like what?”
“Your humans are clueless about dark elf etiquette. I'll teach you now—handle any issues that arise.”
“But I'm just a mere dragon knight...”
“Looking for excuses already? If you can't manage this, how will you handle Her Majesty's curse?”
She was right.
He'd hoped to stay low-key until the dragon match, but no helping it.
Even I have to step up to prevent pointless clashes.
From Owen's view, the Surpuk Duke couldn't afford to fight the dark elf queen now.
Not with orcs breathing down their necks.
Otherwise, revenge would be the last thing on his mind as the east fell to orcs.
“Understood.”
Afterward, Owen began crash-learning dark elf etiquette from Brasiana.
To onlookers, she seemed just a maid tending a noble—no one suspected.
Only stingy old Ben, who'd followed Owen, looked baffled.
“Who's that lady? Never seen her before...”
“She's helping out this once. The road's rough; you can't handle me alone, Ben.”
“No, it ain't even rough...”
Owen winced at Ben's attitude, as if implying he was the only servant.
But it was a misread.
Ben wasn't sulking—he had other interests.
“What a fine lady she is.”
“Huh?”
“She got a husband?”
“Ben... drop it.”
Who'd have thought Ben would take a shine to Brasiana in her old maid guise.
They looked about the same age superficially, but Owen hurried to dissuade him.
Ben pouted grumpily.
“Young master got along fine with that blond knight fella Ventra or whatever before, but I can't even look? Aigoo, my fate...”
“No, Ben, it's not like that.”
Owen glanced at Brasiana as if to say help me out, and she chuckled before warmly engaging Ben.
“You're Ben, right? Young master talks about you plenty. Ho ho.”
“No kidding! Yes ma'am! I'm Ben, the young master's top retainer.”
Ben beamed, showing his happiest face in ages.
This journey continued for five days, until they finally spotted the dark elf queen's procession in the distance.
The picnic-like atmosphere vanished instantly, replaced by taut tension blanketing everyone.
“Good lord... that many dark elves!”
One knight couldn't hide his nerves and shouted.
Small wonder—the approaching group numbered nearly 1,500.
Nearly half were soldiers, densely surrounding what was presumed to be the queen's palanquin.
Such a force of dark elves appearing in the east was exceedingly rare.
Locals clashed directly with orcs, not dark elves.
But all had grown up hearing tales of their infamy.
Cunning masters of poison, more agile than humans, peerless in martial arts.
Like terrifying childhood nightmares made flesh in hordes before their eyes—naturally, the ranks stirred.
Yet true to sturdy eastern men, they stood in orderly ranks, staring down the foe.
How long did the standoff last?
A forward officer shouted.
“They've sent envoys!”
Sure enough, a few dark elves approached.
All in pitch-black armor, five in total.
The Surpuk Duke and retainers hurriedly conferred.
“We need someone to greet them. They look of decent rank—who's suitable on our side?”
“A commander-level knight, perhaps. Lordrek would be ideal; he joined us recently with a hundred men.”
“Good. Lordrek's known for his virtuous character. He won't err—send him with full honors. First impressions matter.”
“Understood.”
The duke took care to receive them properly.
Enemy or not, mutual gains called for friendly gestures.
But things went awry from the start.
Lordrek Knight, gone to greet them, seemed to speak—then got slapped across the face.
Onlookers erupted.
“The hell!”
“That bastard! How dare it!”
Soldiers surged forward; commanders barely held them back.
The watching Surpuk Duke, Bobert Count, and Russell Count were equally stunned.
A brawl wouldn't have been surprising, but luckily for the duke, Lordrek was a man of superhuman patience.
No one would blame him for drawing steel, yet he endured for his lord's sake.
He even restrained his rushing attendants.
“Everyone, calm down. What matter is one insult to me? I'm more worried about botching the mission.”
The dark elf envoys yelled something, then turned away disdainfully.
The duke's group was left dumbfounded.
Soldiers pounded spears in fury.
Dragon knights had scrolls at the ready, fearing imminent clash.
“We're outnumbered, but we've got dragons! We won't lose!”
“Time to sweep those pointy-eared brown-skins!”
“Waaaaah!”
In the chaos, the Surpuk Duke urgently summoned Lordrek.
“What happened? A prudent man like you wouldn't misspeak. Explain, Lordrek.”
Onlookers nodded in agreement.
They knew his temperament.
“Your Grace, forgive me, but I failed to grasp fully due to my inexperience. I sensed no breach of etiquette, but when I stated my rank, they flew into a rage.”
“Tell me about them.”
“A middle-aged dark elf woman, with four attendants. Their armor bore only simple bat emblems—not seeming high nobility...”
Everyone looked baffled at the report.
“Why send a woman?”
Some, ignorant of matriarchal dark elf houses, tilted heads.
Others guessed rank friction, but countered by the plain attire, dropping it.
Suggestions of deliberate provocation arose.
But no consensus, frustration mounting.
Then the Surpuk Duke slapped his knee.
“Right! Fetch Owen quick. He might've heard something from Archmage Bellatel!”
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