The Dragon-Blooded Cargone
“Letters? Acting above your station...”
Syrin sneered at Adel.
“What do you think you're gonna do, learning to read? That's for mages. A guy without any mana, what the hell...”
“Letters aren't for learning magic. They're for living like a human being.”
“You saying I don't live like a human?!”
Adel ignored Syrin's shout. He knew it would only stoke his rage further.
“This bastard...”
Syrin clenched his fist, unsure how to deal with Adel, who kept provoking him at every turn.
“Father's right here. Watch your mouth.”
“Shut it. I know.”
Merka stepped in to block Syrin, just in case, but Syrin shook off his arm and snapped back.
Hiiiiiing—!!
That was when it started.
A horse's neigh echoed from outside the tent, followed by a sudden uproar.
* * *
“C-Careful!!!”
“...Whoa, whoa, whoa!!! What are you doing?! Hold the reins tight so it doesn't— Argh!!”
“Everyone, get out of the way!!”
Kwaaaaang—!!!
The screams came from not far from Hien's tent. The children who rushed out turned their eyes toward the chaos.
“Kuh!!!”
The man who had just yelled about grabbing the reins was flung into the air with a whoosh, crashing right in front of Adel.
“You okay?”
Adel helped him up.
“Aigoo, I'm dying... This is a total mess. Of all places, right near Hien's tent.”
He clutched his back, muttering with a pale face as he stood.
“What's going on?”
“It's a Cargone. A rare breed. We were barely transporting it in a cart when it went berserk—the latch broke.”
Cargones were one of the main mounts used by desert tribes. They resembled horses but had coarse manes and sharp spikes protruding from the heels of their hooves, which they used to strike with their hind legs in defense. Even seasoned warriors could lose their lives if caught off guard.
Like a unicorn, they had a spiraling horn on their foreheads, the color of which varied by lineage—and some wielded special abilities.
'That one...'
Adel eyed the rampaging Cargone. His expression hardened slightly.
“...Ren?”
But he shook his head. It looked just like the Cargone he knew, but on closer inspection, it wasn't.
'Ren's horn was dark red. But this one's is pure crimson.'
Ren was the name of the Cargone that had been with him in his previous life.
Adel knew why this Cargone resembled his old mount.
'Yeah. She's Ren's dam.'
A strange feeling washed over him.
“Whew. That one again, huh, Uncle Dawen? Still no one's tamed her?”
Merka spoke as if he knew the fallen man well.
“Sigh, don't even ask. No one in the tribe but you could handle it.”
The man shook his head at the question. His build was sturdy, befitting a Ulan tribesman. For it to hurl him like that meant the Cargone's strength was no joke.
“Brother, look at that. The mane's perfect blood-red. That's a rare among rares.”
“Hmm. Was there a beast like that in the village?”
“Hien brought it back recently. It's got Tesan blood mixed in. That's why it's so vicious.”
“Tesan... The dragon of Dunjal Gorge?”
“Yeah. Cargones come from unicorn-horse crosses normally... But sometimes mutants with dragon blood pop up.”
“Why?”
“Well...”
Dawen scratched his head awkwardly at Yoran's question.
“No reason. Just dragon whims. They can polymorph into anything. Not limited to human form.”
“Ah...”
“You're thinking right. It's filthy. They sow their seed anywhere, no discrimination.”
Merka cut in for Dawen, unable to stand it. Yoran's face flushed red at the answer, oddly enough.
“Being the strongest race doesn't mean they're wise or noble.”
“Got it.”
Yoran nodded in understanding, then startled and glanced at Syrin. He was sure Syrin hated him chatting with Merka.
“Dragons aren't great at all. Not worthy of worship.”
The crowd nodded at his words.
“But brother, isn't that... the same breed as Father's Cargone?”
Syrin fell silent at his words and stared at the beast. It certainly had the same aura as the one ridden by Hien, lord of the desert.
“Hmm.”
If it was the same breed as Hien's, it was special in itself—but more importantly...
'Being the only one in the tribe riding the same as Father would be enough to sway opinion later. Especially since we're sidelined compared to Merka...'
Syrin's eyes gleamed as he watched the rampaging Cargone.
'He's got his eye on it.'
Adel clicked his tongue softly at the sight.
'But you'd best give up, Syrin. If Ren inherited her temper, she's not for you.'
While Syrin nursed his pointless greed, Adel pondered.
“What's the commotion!”
Tribesfolk gathered one by one in the square, but none dared step forward amid the Cargone's frenzy.
“Nazan!”
They turned at Nazan's voice.
“Tch, that one again.”
Nazan glanced at the beast and clicked his tongue, as if it were a familiar headache.
“This won't do. Two trainers dead to its hooves already. Time to put down this troublemaker.”
“What? You mean kill it?”
Dawen cried out in shock.
“No choice. No matter the bloodline, an untamable Cargone's more trouble than a wild one.”
“But it's got Tesan blood. Dragon-blooded Cargones are one in a million.”
“Then you tame it.”
“...I-I can't.”
Even Dawen, a top trainer in the tribe, balked at the question.
“Looking at its temper, maybe Hien could, but not me or Muel easily.”
Nazan sighed deeply.
“Who in the tribe could tame it...”
His eyes landed on Adel.
“Hmm.”
Then they swept over Merka and Syrin behind him.
“Interesting thoughts you're having, Nazan.”
Just then, the tent flap lifted, and Hien emerged. Despite the chaos, the tribesfolk knelt as one.
“We see the Lord of the Desert!!”
“We see the Lord of the Desert!!”
Hien raised a hand, and Nazan nodded first, shouting,
“Rise, all of you.”
“A rare breed with Tesan blood. Dragon-blooded Cargones have great power, are hard to find—but just as hard to handle. Two trainers already down.”
“Your thoughts?”
“Binding it is easy. Taming it... even I wouldn't call it simple.”
“Yet you lowered your bow. Because of those boys, I assume.”
Hien eyed the four.
“Lucky timing. We were short on horses for the Hunting Day victor. Here's your chance.”
All eyes, including Adel's, locked on the rampaging Cargone.
“Hear me. Anyone may try. All who joined Hunting Day qualify. Whoever tames it claims it—and I'll grant a reward befitting the victor myself.”
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
“Hunting Day's not over?”
“We still have a shot?”
“If I tame that...”
Those disappointed by the basilisk's sudden death now eyed the opportunity hungrily.
Hiiiiiing—!!!
Others, seeing the Cargone rage fiercer, gave up hope.
“Who will step up?”
Nazan called to the crowd. No one moved rashly. Even Dawen, the best trainer who'd held its reins, had been flung.
'If Dawen failed, how could we...'
'No way.'
Most thought the same.
“I'll do it.”
“Me too!!”
Yet some went for broke.
Ooooooh—!!!
Cheers erupted. Adel gave a wry smile at the two familiar faces pushing through.
“Magan. Ur.”
Of course.
They were pains in the ass personality-wise, but no cowards. Fitting that they'd challenge first.
'Syrin plans to gauge it using them.'
He was clever. Dawen was a hunter first, no slouch—and Syrin figured these two would fail like him.
“What do you think?”
Nazan approached Adel. He couldn't explain why he'd looked to him first among the tamable candidates—over the two standouts, Merka and Syrin.
“An arm.”
“Hm?”
“One arm'll break, at least. Lucky, though. Cargones aren't carnivores. Otherwise it'd be ripped off, not just snapped.”
“You saying they can't even hunt one Cargone?”
Adel turned to him and said,
“Hunting and taming are worlds apart. Strength-wise, you can hunt equals—but taming needs at least triple that.”
“Triple... Then you? Can you tame a dragon-blooded Cargone?”
“Yes.”
Nazan was dumbfounded by Adel's unflinching confidence.
Wooduk—!!
“Graaaaaah!!!”
A bone-crunching sound rang out.
“D-Damn it...!!”
Magan rolled on the ground, screaming as his right arm shattered under the Cargone's hind hoof.
Adel shrugged as if it were obvious and turned to Nazan.
“Move.”
Then Syrin shoved his shoulder and strode forward.
“Hien's sons just standing around gawking.”
He glared at the pair.
He saw this as his chance—for a different reason.
'I'll surpass Merka here and earn Father's full recognition.'
“Be careful, Syrin.”
“Mind your own. Father sired direct and side heirs to make us claw our way up.”
Syrin bristled.
“He wants us desert wolves, not complacent sheep.”
He emphasized the last words.
“Watch your tongue. I'm your brother, Syrin.”
“Hmph. Expecting brotherhood from Hien's sons? Aren't we rivals anyway? Brother.”
The “brother” sounded like a warning, not warmth.
“And if you're just minutes older, earn it properly. Big brother. Yielding's for weak central folk.”
Merka sighed deeply at Syrin's back.
“Brother!! Let's go together!!”
Yoran hurried after him into the square.
'Eh, once you know his backstory, it's not hard to get. Merka's officially first but technically side branch.'
[Not the principal wife's son. Concubine's.]
'Right. He thought he was first—then Merka shows up late as the real eldest.'
[Feels his spot stolen.]
Hien, unconcerned with bloodlines, accepted Merka without hesitation. And Merka's superior talent made him undeniably first, as if fulfilling expectations.
[A true dragon of a man.]
'Yeah. Just like one.'
Adel wondered if Merka's words about dragons not being great or worthy of worship were aimed at Hien.
[Hmm... Thinks his place was taken. Understandable, but tough.]
Thud—thud—thud—
Adel stepped forward slowly.
“You challenging too?”
“This isn't a challenge. The outcome won't change. I'm just going to save Brother Syrin.”
“...What?”
Adel smiled faintly.
“Forgot? I was Hunting Day's real winner.”
He turned to Merka.
“And I will be from now on.”