Tanares's Legacy (3)
“No way…!”
The sword bestowed by the Empire wasn't just any fine blade.
A sword was originally a symbol of status.
Receiving one alone elevated a person to a new position.
Russell Count, realizing this too late, nearly collapsed as his legs gave out.
He felt dizzy seeing Elder Betshel smirking at him.
Surpuk Duke soon began explaining for the benefit of the bewildered onlookers.
“This was given to him by the late Emperor himself when he was still alive. I was twelve at the time. The sword is recorded in the Imperial Precedent Office as imperial property.”
“Then what is the role of that sword?”
“Good question, Bobert. This sword is for the commander of the Dragon Knights.”
“The Dragon Knight commander?”
“Indeed. By imperial law, whoever receives this sword can form their own Dragon Knight order.”
The listeners, of course, gasped in admiration.
“Incredible!”
“Ah, I think I've heard something about it when I was in the capital.”
However, according to Surpuk Duke, there were restrictions.
“The size of the Dragon Knight order depends on the recipient's rank. Hmm… In your case, as a knight bachelor, you can command a unit of five knights under you.”
It was a very modest scale.
From the follow-up explanation, it seemed a duke could command hundreds of Dragon Knights.
“But don't be too disappointed. It's a chance for a lowly knight bachelor like you to become a Dragon Knight commander. Even if small in number, it's an officially recognized order under imperial law.”
Owen wasn't one to miss the duke's point.
His face lit up like a full moon.
Even if small, it was an official knight order—and he would be its commander.
It meant he wouldn't just roll under others; he could execute independent operations.
“Your Grace!”
“Hah, the boy's overwhelmed.”
Surpuk Duke smiled with a benevolent expression.
For this hot-blooded lord, it was a rare sight.
It showed just how highly he valued Owen's recent achievements.
With his heart now fully at ease, he extended further consideration to Owen.
“Owen, the knight order you form will be under my direct command.”
It was like giving wings to a tiger.
Russell Count, who had been dazed, stepped forward again.
“Your Grace! Aren't all Dragon Knights in the East under Bernart Count's command? He is the supreme commander of the Eastern Dragon Legion.”
Surpuk Duke snorted in response.
“Hmph! That fool's too busy with the orcs on the eastern front to even follow me this time. Besides, Bernart favors the eldest son over me from the start.”
Those listening caught the duke's intent.
Power was ruthless; even Bernart Count, who led the dragons, was being checked for his closeness to the heir.
Of course, they were all in Surpuk Duke's grasp, but maintaining the tower of power never ended.
No matter how sturdy it seemed for a thousand years, someone like Surpuk Duke was needed to inspect and refine it constantly.
“As Your Grace wills.”
Bobert Count quickly stepped in, reading his lord's mind.
Opposing now would only invite wrath.
No matter how favored a vassal, interference with power meant purge.
But Russell Count couldn't give up.
This is a crushing defeat. No—a historic loss!
His rage choked his breath.
The cool diplomat's mask shattered completely.
His flushed face revealed his inner turmoil plainly.
A knight order? And directly under His Grace? The brat will be uncontrollable after this.
If under Bernart Count, he could beg favors to suppress him somehow.
But like this? No chance.
In that moment, Russell Count felt a strange premonition.
One more would join the East's famed Four Swords.
Fury boiled up naturally.
How dare a country knight!
Unacceptable.
“Your Grace! Such an exception will shake the legion's unity. There's a reason we've entrusted all dragons to one general since the previous generation.”
Surpuk Duke shook his head.
“Russell, everything must adapt to the times. Entrust to one general? Then tell me—where is that general now?”
“He is ably carrying out his duties on the eastern front…”
“I nearly died tonight. Would I have faced this crisis if that general were by my side?”
“That's…”
Russell Count had no retort.
Surpuk Duke drove the nail home.
“The reason we gave the dragon legion to one capable general in the past was simple. The orcs rallied like waves around a single great chieftain, so we had to concentrate our strength too.”
“…”
“But as today's events show, even the orcs have changed. We need countermeasures. And you yourself said you wouldn't oppose bestowing the sword.”
The silver-tongued Russell found no words now.
A stinging humiliation fell, with an unnatural silence weighing heavily on the gathering.
Surpuk Duke called to confirm.
“Russell.”
Russell Count even wished to turn back time.
But no choice.
In the end, he yielded.
“As Your Grace wills…”
That night.
Russell Count fell to his own schemes, and a new path opened for Owen.
A week later.
Bargulgu returned to the Eastern Plains.
The fearsome Human Reaper who once inspired terror was nowhere to be seen.
He looked like a beggar to anyone.
“Grrrng! Are you really Bargulgu?”
An elderly orc warrior greeting the exhausted returnee doubted his own eyes.
His body was filthy with blood and dust; his prized mountain goat helmet was lost somewhere.
His armor was shattered and ragged, his right arm severed, leaving his clothing dangling.
“Old timer, your eyes must be failing with age. Step aside. I need to see the great chieftain.”
“Fine. I'll guide you. But I wonder if you'll still be breathing after… Hmph!”
Bargulgu's defeat was already known.
He'd taken five thousand elites; only about a hundred returned.
Nearly annihilated.
With the situation thus, orc generals who long resented his arrogance hurled mockery.
“Our great Human Reaper! You harvested so eagerly you left your right arm in the East!”
“Kyakyakya! You advanced noisily like a flock of crows, but the returnees are all terrified pigeons!”
This was the plains where the great chieftain's tent stood.
Generals from various tribes had gathered.
Most sneered at Bargulgu.
Some swallowed reckless words, but none extended a comforting hand first.
The stain of defeat weighed heavily indeed.
Bargulgu walked to the great chieftain's tent like a prisoner, enduring humiliation.
If his status were any lower, mud and food scraps would have been thrown.
“Great Chieftain. Bargulgu requests an audience.”
The elderly warrior announced, and a heavy voice replied.
“Let him in.”
A voice like a pipe organ booming.
Its dignity made listeners shrink instinctively.
The old warrior sighed in relief that he didn't need to enter.
“Go in.”
Bargulgu nodded and entered the massive tent.
It was dim inside, with only thin light seeping through seams.
In the center loomed a tall throne of beast bones, where a massive orc warrior sat.
He was the great chieftain.
Kaladashyr, Lord of Hybrids.
Kaladashyr was said to carry the blood of a great ogre mage.
An orc-ogre mage hybrid: huge, heroic, skilled in magic.
“Bargulgu. You've returned.”
“Great Chieftain.”
Bargulgu advanced and knelt heavily.
Kaladashyr smirked, lifting one corner of his mouth.
“What a pathetic sight. Why return instead of dying on the field?”
“Truth be told, I intended to.”
Bargulgu's escape from the East was utter humiliation.
Surpuk Duke, naturally, didn't let the routed army go.
He raised the alert in the East and pursued the orcs immediately.
Bargulgu crossed the Arcane Mountains back to the plains, surviving countless near-deaths.
Yet he broke through that distance in a week amid battles—superhuman feat.
In truth, Bargulgu hadn't slept properly in that week.
But after the forced march, only about a hundred remained.
“Dying in human lands would have made you a hero. Why endure this shame?”
“I have a report to make.”
“Send a swift subordinate for reports. Is that your excuse?”
“I felt only I could convey it properly.”
“Hooh…?”
“After my report, I'll accept any punishment. What words does a defeated general have?”
“Very well. Speak.”
“Thank you, Great Chieftain.”
Bargulgu spoke of an impressive boy he'd met in the war.
After detailing the situation, he raised his severed arm.
“A dragon knight far beyond his years. He took my right arm.”
“You didn't drag yourself here just for that, Human Reaper.”
“Correct.”
Nodding, Bargulgu reached into his bosom.
His broken armor hindered him, so he tore it off. Undoing his leather vest, he revealed the necklace at his neck.
A large tooth crafted into an item.
The great chieftain recognized it instantly.
“The one I gave you before.”
“Yes. The tooth of the Empire's dragon, Tanares.”
What Bargulgu wore was the tooth of Tanares, former partner of Duke Glendower and a true dragon.
This tooth, imbued with immense magic, granted resistance to most spells just by possession.
Truly extraordinary.
“Before parting with the boy, something mysterious happened. This tooth necklace vibrated. I felt it shaking against my chest vividly.”
At Bargulgu's words, the great chieftain, listening languidly, straightened up.
“What?”
His eyes widened in surprise, then he chuckled lowly.
As if hearing nonsense.
“Kuhuhu, quite the amusing lie, Bargulgu. Death must have loosened your silver tongue.”
“Great Chieftain! Why would I report falsehoods? Consider that I forwent an honorable death to come here.”
“Hmmm!”
This shook the great chieftain.
Hard to believe, but he knew Bargulgu's character well.
He was no coward.
Indeed, he'd have died fighting humans if suicidal. For him to come…
Seeing the flicker in the chieftain's eyes, Bargulgu explained fervently.
He'd felt the same aura from Owen as the late Duke Glendower.
“Great Chieftain! I swear by my ancestors' names that everything I've said is true.”
An orc swearing by ancestors was the highest oath.
Falsehood meant eternal dishonor.
In tribal society, unparalleled punishment.
The chieftain had to take it seriously.
“Human Reaper. If false, all your achievements and honor crumble. Still swear by your ancestors?”
“Of course.”
“Khm…!”
The chieftain furrowed his brow, deep in thought.
Sorting the situation earnestly.
Tak. Tak. Tak.
He drummed his fingers silently on the throne arm.
Only after a long pause did he speak.
“There's one reason Tanares's tooth I gave you trembled.”
“What is it?”
“Resonance of power. It reacted to something—or someone—strongly linked to Tanares.”
“Does the boy have another of Tanares's teeth?”
“No, unlikely. A true dragon's tooth is precious, but not enough for such resonance. The boy surely has something we don't know.”
The reason was simple, in truth.
Tanares's power dwelled in Owen's soul.
Thus, the tooth resonated.
But the chieftain couldn't imagine that.
“Can't dismiss it lightly. When invading human lands, we must seek that boy.”
“Thank you, Great Chieftain!”
Bargulgu rejoiced that his report proved useful.
All the humiliations endured were worth it.
With a satisfied expression, he drew a dagger from his bosom and placed it on the ground.
“Great Chieftain. All is done. If you command, I'll end it myself.”
Normally, he'd have agreed.
But he shook his head.
He rose from the throne, approached, picked up the dagger, and handed it back.
“Put it away.”
“No, how can I?”
“Human Reaper. Since you've endured the shame this far, why not see it through?”
“Great Chieftain.”
“No need to answer now. I'll tell you something first. Decide after.”
“...What is it?”
Hiding his trembling voice, Bargulgu asked, and the chieftain grinned slyly.
“Reviving the dead true dragon, Tanares.”