Losers Delight Just Looking at Each Other's Faces - 4
The final cave he visited after drawing blood from three dragons belonged to a golden dragon. The moment he pricked that last specimen, he felt an omen that this one would be far rougher than the others. Sad omens, as always, proved true.
It was far too rough. The hide was so tough it made the previous three look like nothing; he had to put everything he had into piercing a single scale. The aftermath still left his hands trembling.
"Are you finished?"
While he was transferring even the blood on the blade into a bottle, a deep, resonant voice rolled down from above. The dragon was so enormous that even what sounded like a quiet remark filled the entire cave.
"Yes. Everything is done. Thank you for your cooperation."
"Think nothing of it. For a child to honor a parent's pact is only natural."
The dragon made a gesture that might have been a light shake of the head. From a human's perspective—looking straight up was all he could manage—it was impossible to say exactly what it was doing, but the friendliness of the reaction was plain enough.
Since the founding of the Empire, detailed records had been kept on every dragon: which region housed which dragon, their age and temperament, preferred food, and, if they ever moved, where they went and why. Thanks to those records, the Empire had managed to coexist with the dragons without a single clash.
And this dragon, born roughly three hundred years ago, was unusually well-disposed toward humans—more precisely, toward the Livnoman Imperial Family—compared to its kin.
"Speaking of which… how is young Corbus these days?"
The dragon asked lightly, as if the thought had only just occurred while watching the squad members haul the bottles. On the receiving end of that question, his whole body went rigid of its own accord. Casually calling the Emperor by his true name and treating him like a child—remarks that would have been enough to brand anyone a traitor. But the dragon before him had every right to say them.
"His Majesty has been handing work over to the Crown Prince. He will likely abdicate before long."
"Hah. Already? Humans age so quickly—it is a pity."
He could find no answer to that sighing lament. "Quickly" was a hard word to apply to a man who had sat on the throne for decades.
But this dragon had been born in the age of the Great Emperor Aimanka and had lived through the reigns of every successive Emperor of Crefelofen. It was the living history of the Imperial House. Emperors, upon finishing their coronations, would even visit this dragon in person with a few trusted retainers.
Having the Emperor himself come rather than a proxy might seem excessive, but there was no helping it.
"Still, I envy him. That child will soon be able to see his father."
Because this dragon was a child of the Great Emperor Aimanka—and at the same time the sole offspring left by the Dragon Lord of that era, who had carried Aimanka across countless battlefields. To both the Empire and the dragons, it could only ever be a being of special standing.
"Ah—there I go again, saying strange things to a child who has nothing to do with any of it."
The dragon, who had fallen silent for a moment as if lost in memory, spoke those words and shifted its tail. A heap of objects was shoved forward by that tail until it sat right in front of him.
"Labor deserves its due reward. These are my scales and claws. Take them all."
"…Pardon?"
The words were so unexpected that he only managed to question them after a beat. Intact dragon scales and claws were materials as precious as the blood itself. But unlike blood, which could be drawn periodically once a scale was pierced, obtaining whole scales and claws required waiting for a dragon to molt.
Unfortunately, molting cycles were random. And dragons, who did not look kindly on the remnants shed from their own bodies, usually burned them the moment they molted.
"I molted two years ago. Knowing you would be coming soon, I held on to them instead of discarding them."
This dragon had endured the irritation and set them aside.
"Thank you. We will put them to good use for the Imperial House and the Empire."
"No need. This is a gift for a hardworking child. Use them however you like."
At those words, he stared blankly up at the dragon.
However… I like?
"…So that's why you brought them to me?"
"Yes."
Looking at the Fourth Department Head sparkling her eyes as if begging for praise, he let out a hollow laugh. When she had shown up dangling scales and claws all over herself, he had half-wondered if she had class-changed into a dragon slayer—but she had simply been handed them in peace.
"The Minister of Special Affairs also said that byproducts obtained during a mission belong to the field commander."
When the awkward silence stretched on, the Fourth Department Head hurriedly added an explanation. She seemed to think he had gone quiet because he was fretting over whether he was even allowed to accept them. That hadn't been why he was silent at all.
"Thank you. Live long enough and you really do get to touch things like this."
He stroked the Fourth Department Head's hair as he offered his thanks. It was a little bewildering, but the fact remained that he had come by priceless materials for free. Dragons would hand over blood without much fuss, but they rarely considered giving anything else.
Honestly, putting himself in their place, it made perfect sense. Humans might donate blood, but if someone suggested stripping their skin and yanking out their nails, they'd unleash a string of curses. Mention even the tip of a scale to a dragon and they would probably look at you with pure contempt and ask, Are you looking at me the same way Apels did?
"M-Master… if it's all right, a hug would…"
As he kept stroking her hair, the Fourth Department Head carefully spoke up. Surprising—for someone whose heart rate rivaled the Demon Duke's, she had actually broached the subject first.
But that only made it all the more admirable that she had found the courage. Knowing her own weakness and still pushing forward—it was almost sublime.
"All right. If Penelia wants it, of course I should."
So he hugged her at once. Truth be told, he would have hugged her first even if the Fourth Department Head hadn't asked.
"Hhnn—"
With a sound like her breath catching, the Fourth Department Head's arms wrapped around his back. He felt a faint tremor, but deliberately paid it no mind. He could feel her will to endure as well.
He had worried about her—she and the Demon Duke were the absolute weakest when it came to physical affection—but she seemed to be improving without his even noticing. That was a real relief.
"You worked hard piercing those scales. Do you have time to eat dinner together?"
"Y-Yes… of course."
The way she nodded so hastily suggested it wasn't a lie. Not that the Fourth Department Head had ever lied to his face in the first place.
"Um, Master? If it's all right… Erzebet as well—"
"I saw Erzebet at lunch. You don't need to worry."
Even in the middle of all this, she was looking out for her friend, the former First Division Chief. A smile tugged at his mouth.
They really are friends, then.
The First Division Chief had also told him when the Fourth Department Head would be coming. That they were true friends to each other was genuinely touching—especially after he had recently watched Sera and Count Horpfelt's war of nerves.
The meal itself passed uneventfully. The Fourth Department Head was quiet by nature; with food in her mouth, how much quieter could she get? Still, whenever he spoke to her she answered diligently, careful not to let the conversation die. She must have known that after today it would be some time before they could meet again, and so she hungered for the talk.
Thanks to that, dinner ended smoothly and warmly enough—though there was a small commotion at the end.
"I-I cannot accept this! How could I possibly dare take something so precious…!"
"No—these are things you brought back in the first place."
The scales and claws the Fourth Department Head had received as payment for her labor. No matter how he looked at it, keeping everything himself would have been shameless, so he returned half of them to her.
As expected—or perhaps more than expected—the Fourth Department Head refused adamantly, until—
"Just carrying a scale increases magic resistance. Distribute them to your people."
The moment he brought up Mukgwangdae, she finally accepted them. To the Fourth Department Head, Mukgwangdae was as good as family. And for a unit that ran itself ragged like dogs both at home and abroad, a charm that boosted magic resistance was something you wouldn't part with for a fortune. Getting them free would have everyone overjoyed.
As for the claws, he made her swear to have them forged into a weapon. With dragon claws as the material, even master smiths would beg to take the commission and pay for the privilege. The result would outclass even the sword he had once gifted her.
"I will surely repay Master's grace."
"Your simply being here is repayment enough. Don't feel burdened."
"Yes, yes. I will bear it in… mind…"
After a bit of fuss, he sent off the Fourth Department Head—who kept bowing over materials she herself had brought—and looked at the byproducts still piled high.
What do I do with the rest?
It was a dilemma. If the amount had been small, he would have just swallowed it whole, but there was more than enough to share with others, so he couldn't. Hog treasure like this alone and sooner or later your stomach would burst or your mouth would split.
…Should I pass it to the Crown Prince?
After a moment's thought, a decent solution occurred to him. Why not just dump it on the Crown Prince? Giving him about half ought to do it.
Yes—call it an early pregnancy congratulations gift. He hadn't obtained the materials himself, but lovers were of one heart and mind, weren't they? Taking a little credit in the Fourth Department Head's place should be fine.
—Or so he had thought.
"Audit Department Chief."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"What sort of ornaments do you suppose one could make from these scales?"
That was before he met a Crown Prince who had gone thoroughly, thoroughly mad.
When he had walked into the Crown Prince's palace of his own free will, the Crown Prince had looked puzzled—until he saw the scales and claws and his eyes flew wide. Even for someone of the Imperial House, dragon byproducts other than blood were not everyday sights.
And before long, the shock in those eyes had filled with a bizarre gleam of mania. Anyone who looked at dragon scales and started talking about ornaments was not operating under ordinary madness.
This lunatic.
The words Are you out of your mind? rose to the tip of his tongue and then sank again. That dragon might not be the Crown Prince's direct ancestor, but it was still a child of the founding progenitor. In a sense, it could even be called a lesser progenitor.
At the same time, he nearly burst out laughing. How thoroughly must the Crown Princess have raked him over for him to start thinking of ornaments made from dragon scales? The moment he left the palace, he must have been thoroughly flayed. Suddenly, his heart felt perfectly at peace.
"Perhaps it would be better, Your Highness, to send arms forged from the claws to the Duke of Victory."
But reining in a superior lost to mania was a subordinate's duty. Before the catastrophe of actual scale jewelry could unfold, he offered a better plan.
Given the Crown Princess's temperament, a single piece of jewelry was unlikely to soften her heart. She would more likely fly into a rage over what he had done with such precious materials. Better, then, to court her father, the Duke of Victory.
"A fine idea. As expected of the Audit Department Chief."
Fortunately, it seemed plausible enough that the Crown Prince nodded.
You sorry fool. When you take the throne, make sure you apologize to that dragon.