A Suspicious Pet (2)

"If it were a dragon, it would have wings and scales. This thing is a spirit no matter how you look at it."

When Vitten retorted, Caroi glared daggers at him.

"Typical ignorant human—since when must a dragon fly to count as a dragon? Never heard of an Earth Dragon?"

Vitten shouldered up beside Caroi and peered into the hearth.

"Earth Dragon or not, there's no way a dragon hatchling could be this small."

"That puzzles me as well... I couldn't say. I'm no ecologist."

After that day, I threw myself into investigating the question Caroi had raised. I couldn't afford to let the word dragon pass unanswered.

The monster encyclopedia I'd pored over as a child proved useless. It was written purely for entertainment, concerned with little beyond sorting monsters into tidy threat grades.

For proper materials, I would have to go to the Academy. The Academy was a society of eccentrics bankrolled by noble patronage and determined to spend their lives on whatever pleased them, and among their number were the very sort Caroi had called "ecologists"—fanatics who would gladly lay down their lives to unravel the ecology of a monster.

After much digging, a single thesis finally landed in my hands. Its author was a researcher long since dead. The man had spent his entire life obsessed with dragons, and was said to have met his end crushed beneath the tail of the companion dragon that had imprinted on him.

The thesis opened on the researcher's lament.

The researcher had put forward a bold hypothesis: flying dragons were born superior to every other species, while Earth Dragons began as nothing more than lowly lizards.

An ordinary lizard, exposed over long ages to potent qi, mutating again and again until it reached the very pinnacle of evolution—that, he claimed, was the Earth Dragon.

Just as Caroi had said, dragons that produced their own magma did exist. A lizard that drank in the essence of volcanoes for eons would mutate into a rare breed that secreted magma, and as that individual continued to grow, it would transform into a transcendent existence known as the Magma Dragon.

Ruler of the Underworld.

Master of the Volcanoes.

Primal violence incarnate.

As those dignified epithets made clear, the Magma Dragon boasted strength on a wholly different plane from the flying dragons it was presumed to be cousin to—and it was said to utterly overwhelm even the Red Dragon, which shared its fire attribute.

"Honestly, it's nonsense."

The researcher who had fetched the paper offered his own two cents.

"A dragon ought to build a lair and lay eggs, as any proper dragon does. Lizards evolving into dragons? You might as well claim humans descended from monkeys—that would be more believable."

His tone was steeped in the particular cynicism of the academic.

"You did ask for every document we had, so this is what I found—but his thesis was never accepted as established theory. He wasn't even a scholar, strictly speaking. Just... an enthusiast. A monster enthusiast."

"Then what is the academic consensus?"

"That the consensus has yet to be discovered. The prevailing view is that Earth Dragon lairs remain unfound for the simple reason that humans have never descended deep enough underground."

"...Right. Good work."

"Not at all. It was a tremendous honor to be of service to you, my lord."

Once the researcher withdrew, the laughter I had been choking back burst out of me.

What, dragons building nests and laying eggs? Nonsense ought to know its limits—since when was a divine creature like the dragon some common beast?

A dragon is a serpent that cultivated for a thousand years, attained the Dao, took the wish-granting pearl in its jaws, and ascended to the heavens. Fine—different world, so let's say that here, lizards ascend instead of serpents. But eggs? Really? That was the sort of talk that would earn me a beating from Master's bamboo cane.

In my eyes, this nameless researcher had seen things clearly. Unlike the academics who did nothing but spin theory from their desks, this man had personally tracked dragons for a full twenty years.

But even if the thesis were true, nothing guaranteed that Squirmly, coiled up in my kitchen hearth, was some rascal destined to grow into a Magma Dragon. It really might be a lava spirit. We simply hadn't figured out how to raise it yet.

"...It is a phoenix."

Colin declared, peering into the hearth. Using Adras as his lever, he had been slipping in and out of the castle once every five days.

"Based on what, exactly?"

"The intuition of a man who has spent his life in holy orders. This sacred flame is, without question, the phoenix—the divine bird of Lord Solitas."

Listening nearby, Vitten offered a different theory.

"An Ifrit... the Fire Spirit King, no doubt about it."

"On what grounds?"

"Just a hunch."

Vitten, it seemed, felt he owed me for the financial damage his earlier misjudgment had caused, and was now reaching for a bolder answer.

"Could it not be a salamander?"

Thalia offered her own assessment.

"Its newt-like appearance closely matches a salamander."

"You may not know this, but fire is not all one fire. There exists a flame in which divinity itself dwells."

"It's an Ifrit. The reason it refuses food is simple—the Fire Spirit King has no need of food to begin with."

"It looks like a newt."

The three opinions were clashing at their sharpest when—

"Young Master, you have a visitor requesting an audience."

Lily announced the arrival of a guest.

"A certain Lucian Grey... he says he's come to discuss business."

Bewilderment saturated Lily's voice.

"Hah! That lowborn wretch has stretched his claws toward you, my lord?"

Colin reacted instantly.

"We merely agreed to look for ventures that would benefit us both."

"I see his serpent's tongue fed you that line. But his 'benefit' flows toward one man and one man only—himself."

Colin rounded on the two knights.

"What have you two been doing? Why did no one talk him out of this?"

"It's fine, Colin. Leave it to me."

He did not look fine about it at all. I understood—if I were in his shoes, I'd feel the same. If a beloved grandson announced he meant to match wits with a gambler cut from the very same cloth, I would trail him everywhere with a switch in hand, doing my utmost to stop him.

Still, it was a fine opportunity. I couldn't be treated like a child forever, and this would make a good foundation for showing what I was capable of.

Setting aside the mystery of Squirmly's identity for the moment, I led the three of them to the reception room. A ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠short while later, Lucian appeared, dressed even more lavishly than at our last meeting.

"Lord Iden."

His gaze slid to the white-haired elder planted squarely behind me.

"...And Auxiliary Bishop Colin is here as well. A pleasure."

"You are no pleasure to me."

"Dear me. The donations I pay to the diocese seemed to please you well enough."

Colin's brows bent sharply downward. It was the look of a man promising to pour the wrath of god directly onto the next skull that uttered such nonsense.

Lucian deflected the glare with a smile and folded himself into a courteous bow.

"An honor to find such distinguished company gathered in one room."

"Sit, Lucian."

I offered him a chair.

"What brings you today?"

"I've come to report on what I promised. First—all forty-three establishments that might have tarnished your name have been shut down. Settling their grievances and finding the workers new positions took considerable time, but the operational details need not burden you."

Colin stared at Lucian in open astonishment, as if he could not fathom what conversation he had walked in on.

"Now that your name is clean, I would like to move our discussions forward."

Lucian pressed his demand in a confident tone.

"State your specific request."

"Specifically... I would like to borrow your name."

"My name? Why?"

"Do you recall my telling you that thirty percent of the caravans ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠leaving the Holy City bear my name?"

"I remember."

"That, as it happens, is the problem. Grey is a rather poor surname for doing business."

Lucian laughed wryly at his own expense.

I recalled what Vitten had once said—that Lucian had bought his title with cold, hard coin.

"If I could hang your name over my merchant guild, that alone would shave a substantial portion off my tariffs. I project savings in the neighborhood of ten million Bart a year."

No one's jaw dropped, but their faces made their thoughts plain enough. The number ten million had apparently landed quite the blow.

"And what do I get for lending you my name?"

"Twenty percent of the savings. Roughly two million Bart, I should say."

He was proposing that I earn, by sitting perfectly still, a hundred years' worth of my allowance.

"Of course, this may seem a modest proposal to you, my lord, but I regard it as the first step toward a long-term relationship of trust."

Lucian drew a thin, folded sheet from his breast pocket. On it, sketched in red ink, was a familiar figure.

It was unmistakably one of the talismans I had sold to the adventurers. He laid the talisman on the table and topped it off with a wink.

"I remain entirely open to any idea you care to propose, my lord. Anything at all—just say the word."

"Give me a moment with my people."

"I shall wait."

Lucian stretched his legs out at his leisure and began sipping the tea Lily had brought.

I moved with my inner circle into the next room. The moment the door closed, Colin's storm of questions came pouring down—since when had I grown close to that man, how had things progressed so far without his knowledge, and so on.

I raised a hand and calmed him down once more.

"Here's where the specifics begin. I'll explain the full story later—for now, just tell me what I need to hear."

"You should take the deal."

Thalia said in her usual level tone.

"The reason no faction has attached itself to you, Lord Iden, despite your proven Awoken Ability, is simply that your personal power base is weak."

"And how does one build a personal power base?"

"Money."

She pronounced it flatly.

"Lord Mabel and Lord Chris each command personal knight orders backed by merchant guilds rivaling the Grey Merchant Guild. They gathered Awoken Ability users as children and raised them on monster materials—armed bands that would die for their lords without a moment's hesitation."

Raising children on elixirs—just the sort of thing the martial sects back home used to do. Add brainwashing to the mix, and you'd have a proper demonic cult.

"When the succession struggle truly ignites, blood will be spilled in the end. No individual strength can overcome the strength of a collective, which is why everyone keeps a wary eye on the two lords—Lord Chris in particular, who commands the Raven, the second most powerful knight order in the duchy."

The Raven, hm. Now that was a well-chosen name.

"Then if I had an income of two million Bart..."

Thalia nodded.

"Yes, my lord. You too could found a knight order."

"I understand why I need money. But why does it have to be Lucian?"

I could earn money without him. What I needed was a compelling reason to join hands with Lucian specifically.

"Because that man is a genius."

Vitten answered, looking none too happy about it.

"He ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠showed up with nothing but the clothes on his back and built one of the finest merchant guilds in the duchy. When it comes to smelling money, no one alive can touch him... not that I like the man."

I had all the answers I needed. Decision made, I returned to the reception room, where Lucian had meanwhile drained half his teacup.

"Have you reached a decision?"

he asked, the very picture of nonchalance.

"Provided you agree to one condition."

"Name it."

"It occurs to me that I only told you to withdraw from your dirty businesses. I never said you couldn't run them again in the future."

Lucian's eyes gleamed with sudden interest. He truly seemed to savor moments like this.

"We'll write that into the contract, and nail down exactly what you'll owe me if you ever breach it."

"Might I ask what standard defines 'dirty'?"

"Right here."

I pointed a finger at my own head.

"...That is a rather poisonous clause."

"Don't like it?"

"On the contrary. It's perfect."

Lucian smiled with evident satisfaction.

"Since we appear to be in agreement, I shall draft the contract."

He scrawled the whole thing out in a single unbroken flourish. I reviewed it together with my inner circle. Even Colin, who regarded Lucian with open distaste, could point to no flaw in its terms.

If anything, it was the opposite. The contract favored me so heavily that I found myself wondering why the infamous Lucian Grey was volunteering to take a loss.

He claimed my name would save him ten million Bart in tariffs, but the shuttered establishments had surely been bringing in more than that, not less.

"I'm delighted to be working with you, my lord."

As a token of the agreement, we clasped hands.

"You'll be doing all the work, though."

"By the way..."

Lucian slid his empty teacup aside and began.

"By now, the pet I gave you should have grown considerably. Might I trouble you for a look at it?"

"I don't mind, but it won't look the way you're expecting."

I led him to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the kitchen and showed him Squirmly in the hearth.

"Whose idea, exactly, was it to keep it in here?"

When Lucian asked, dumbfounded, Vitten raised his hand with confidence.

"As you can see, months have passed and it hasn't grown one bit."

"At this rate, one would think you never fed it at all. It looks too starved to even stand up straight."

"We tried to feed it. Offered it this and that, but it wouldn't take a single bite."

"Lizard feed can't be that hard to come by, surely?"

"...Lizard?"

It wasn't just me. Colin, Vitten, Thalia—every head in the room snapped around at once.

"...My. It seems I've misspoken."

He wore a smile that could not have looked more suspicious to anyone watching, then said with perfect composure, "It was not a lizard, of course. It was a Magma Dragon."