Clash with the Bearded Dragon
A raucous incident had just wrapped up, and now a tense three-way meeting was underway inside a tent at one corner of the tournament grounds.
Owen.
Bobert Count.
And Baron Magnus.
Yet the atmosphere among these three was worlds apart.
"This coffee has quite a nice aroma."
Owen, sitting face-to-face with Magnus, exuded calm leisure despite the man's murderous glare.
"Given Sir Magnus's unfortunate circumstances, let's wrap this up quickly."
The count in the middle strove to maintain a dry, impartial demeanor.
"Hrrgh…"
Finally, Magnus looked utterly wrecked.
He had always been the picture of a impeccably dressed young nobleman.
But now his head and arms were wrapped in bandages, caked in dirt.
Bloodstained in spots, his clothes ragged like a beggar's.
The epitome of a defeated soldier.
Owen curled his lips at the sight.
"Sir, if you're in pain, feel free to head out first. The terms were all settled beforehand, weren't they?"
"Shut your mouth. I'm fine."
"But you've lost an arm…"
"I want to rip that mouth of yours apart."
Magnus had never glared at anyone with such venom in his life.
He stared daggers at Owen, as if to kill him with his eyes alone, but the boy either had nerves of steel or simply didn't care.
"Enough, both of you. Let's settle this as discussed. Per the notarized terms, Sir Magnus must provide the following to Owen, son of Leire: one dragon scroll, dragon saddle and reins with all equipment, armor, and sword. That's it. Do you agree?"
At Bobert Count's question, Magnus's already sour face turned pitch black.
This was an enormous loss.
He absolutely hated having to answer, but there was no choice.
"Sir Magnus."
Urged by the count, he finally nodded.
Handing over his prized gear wholesale to this hated enemy made his blood boil; maintaining his composure was a struggle.
He forced out the words in a strangled voice.
"…Grgh. I agree."
"Thank you. Sign here."
Magnus scrawled his signature with his left arm like a drunken chicken scratch and rose from his seat.
"We'll meet again, you."
A grudge from a noble of Magnus's stature would chill most to the bone.
But Owen just grinned broadly.
"If you're bringing another gift-wrapped bundle like this, I'd have no reason to refuse. No need to go far. Safe travels."
"Grr… I'll see how long your joy lasts."
With that, Magnus turned away.
"It'll probably outlast whatever you're imagining, sir."
He paused at Owen's words from behind but soon bit his lip and stormed out of the tent.
"He came to hand it over anyway, but acted all high and mighty."
"Defeat is something you know intellectually, but accepting it is never easy. You'll understand someday."
Owen gave a wry smile at Bobert's words.
He too had refused to accept defeat, and that's why he'd returned from death.
"That's his problem, of course. Now, inspect your winnings."
"Thank you."
Owen stood and checked the piled items nearby.
The most precious among them was the dragon scroll.
He pulled it from its iron case.
It was an item coveted by countless dragon knights, though its exorbitant price meant few owned one.
"You're fortunate. A novice dragon knight acquiring a dragon scroll."
"Ah, about that."
Owen had a slew of questions.
Like how Bobert knew Logan Leire, or why he'd called him his squire.
Reading his expression, Bobert shook his head.
"Check the items first to ensure nothing's amiss. We'll discuss the details at your home."
"Even to that rundown place?"
"Truth be told, I came seeking your father on business. Never dreamed I'd meet his son here. Fate's unpredictable."
With the full story to come at Logan's place, Owen focused on the gear.
Unfurling the dragon scroll revealed a beautifully illustrated landscape.
"Excellent."
This scroll had a special feature: it could store one dragon inside the painted scene.
True dragons with immense innate magic couldn't use it, but most ground dragons could.
For dragon knights inconvenienced by their partners' massive size, it was revolutionary gear.
With this, they could travel anywhere with their dragon.
Bonus: the dragon recovered while resting inside.
Every dragon knight dreamed of one—except its price rivaled years of a knight's estate income.
"Sir Magnus must be tearing his guts out."
"Likely. He's wealthy, but a dragon scroll isn't something to toss lightly."
Owen's lips curved upward involuntarily.
The armor and sword he inspected next were top-tier as well.
"Just need to remove the Magnus crest. Lend me a dagger?"
"Here."
The sword's pommel counterweight bore an embedded coin with the Magnus crest.
Owen pried it out with the dagger.
"Much better now. The armor's crest will need a smith."
He then checked the saddle and reins.
"Hm, the size difference is too great. Half will need remaking."
Owen's new Super Red was a small breed.
Magnus's former mount was medium-sized.
No way to fit the saddle.
"You'll get good use from what Sir Magnus gave. The leather, iron fittings, ornaments—they're expensive. Disassemble and remake to fit your dragon."
"Understood."
"Now, to your home. Anything else here?"
"I came for work, but it's irrelevant now. I'll fetch Ben to help pack."
"Very well."
Owen sought out his scrawny servant Ben.
Ben, mid-task, flew into a rage at his return.
"Aigoo! Why not just live there? I said pop over quick, and you vanish! Heh heh! Unbelievable!"
He seemed plenty miffed at Owen's tardiness.
"Sorry. Unexpected stuff came up."
"This old codger hoeing alone till he drops—that'd ease your mind, eh?"
"No, don't say that. There was real work."
"Heh heh! Spill it then. Curious what fancy excuse ya cooked up, but I'll hear ya out."
"Got a place to go first. Talk on the way."
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Owen dragged Ben along and recounted the tournament escapades.
"What'd ya say?"
Ben gawked in disbelief.
"You heard right."
"Uhahaha! Uhihihit! Lordy! Our young master got a silver tongue too."
Ben clutched his belly laughing as they walked.
"Uhihit! Taught a rotten dragon knight a lesson, snagged a dragon to boot? And met some fancy Bobert Count?"
"Yep."
"Like the opener to a hero epic? Aigoo! Show off that writin' talent, lad. Sell books and live easy. Shoulda give ya a quill 'stead of a hoe."
Ben slapped his thigh roaring with laughter.
But even his cackling halted as his jaw dropped.
They'd reached Super Red.
"Eher… Heavens. What kinda ferocious beast is this?"
Owen finally convinced the skeptical Ben after much explanation and evidence.
Only then did he believe.
But Ben's first reaction wasn't joy.
"Tteak—!"
He bellowed in fury.
"Heavens! Why risk such danger? What if ya got hurt!"
Owen felt guilty toward the man fretting genuinely.
The emotion stirring in his chest felt like the dead boy's.
But now it was reincarnated Owen's too.
"Sorry. I'll be careful next time. Help pack."
"Right ya are. What good's this old fool if not workin'? Aigoo. Who raised ya from a babe?"
"Got it. Truly sorry."
"Truly?"
Ben grumbled awhile longer before helping.
They rented a cart and loaded saddle, armor, etc.
"Sigh! My lot. Hoe to armor. Liftin' metal my whole life."
Beside them, Super Red sat meekly with worn reins; Ben eyed it admiringly.
"Bright red fella, ain't he. Sorry for callin' ya ugly earlier. Handsome dragon now. Heh heh! Our young master's, right?"
Super Red growled lightly, displeased by the fuss.
"Eung!"
"Eek! Scary!"
Ben jumped, falling on his butt.
"Young master, he won't snack on this old bag o' bones?"
"Who knows?"
"Lordy! Stop him then. Nothin' but gristle left. Don't ya think it neither. Tough hide, all wrinkly."
Not much baggage, so they readied quickly.
"Good to go."
"Alright. Been ages since I saw Logan."
The Leire household was in absolute uproar.
Owen had returned from the city tournament dragging a massive dragon.
"Look at that red brute. Combat breed, right?"
"Yeah. Leagues beyond our dwarf ground dragons for farm work."
"Young master, where'd ya get it?"
Folks scattered about rushed to greet the guests.
Not just the dragon, but finely dressed men too—they gaped.
But Owen's father, Logan Leire, was most stunned.
"Heavens! Bobert Count! Truly you?"
"Haha, old friend. You've aged."
Like close comrades, they clasped hands firmly.
Logan was shocked by Super Red but figured it was the count's.
His jaw dropped at the next words.
"What think you of that dragon your son procured? Even I, no expert, see it's rare."
"What did you say?"
Logan gawked blankly.
Hard to believe this simple farmer was once a dragon knight.
Bobert relished his upright old comrade's unchanged ways.
"Stubborn as ever! Ears going?"
"Bobert Count, I still plow from dawn till dusk."
"Then why repeat? That prize dragon's your son's."
"Heh heh! Your gift? How on earth…"
"Inside, let's talk. Leires keep guests standing outdoors?"
"Never. I'll guide you."
The whole household bustled.
Servants slaughtered chickens for a guest feast after ages.
While Logan hosted, Owen tended the dragon.
Ben helping nearby asked,
"Young master, empty a stable?"
"Nah, why?"
"Your dragon needs night shelter. Can't let a beast sleep in dew. But that size…"
"No worry. Got the dragon scroll. Better than stinky stables."
Many dragon knights fretted over dragon quarters sans scrolls.
Owen solved it thanks to Magnus.
"In you go, rest. Tomorrow we'll tour together."
Offering the scroll, Super Red turned its head.
"Et eung."
"Inside's comfier. Promise."
After sweet coaxing, it relented.
Quite haughty personality.
"Sun's setting. Rest up."
"Eung!"
Finally, Super Red consented grudgingly.
Activating the scroll, the 10-meter dragon vanished tracelessly.
"Whoa! What sorcery?!"
Ben watching goggled wide-eyed.
Familiar to Owen.
A new image appeared on the scroll: Super Red inside.
"Eher! Magic fer sure. That giant in there? Master never had one."
"Yep."
A servant dashed up.
"Young master, Sir Leire calls."
"Got it."
Inside, the pair had finished a simple meal and shared drinks.
"Owen, come."
"Yes, Father."
The mood was heavy.
Unlike his warm welcome earlier, Logan's face was grim.
"Father, something wrong?"
"……."
Bobert answered.
"I said I'd take you on. Calling you my squire before Magnus wasn't just expedient."
He'd already approved Owen fully.
But Logan shook his head unexpectedly.
"I told you clearly. I oppose the boy becoming a dragon knight."
Bobert smiled bitterly.
"Because of the great purge?"
Owen perked up at mention of his past life's events.
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