The Dragon's Devotees
“Come on in.”
I shook the bell he'd given me right in front of his face, flaunting it. It looked like a regular bell, but it didn't make a tinkling sound. Apparently, only Benjamin, its creator, could hear the bell's chime.
As I rattled it around carelessly, Benjamin looked even more annoyed.
“Don't shake it like that!”
“Then how should I shake the bell?”
“More politely, that's what I mean.”
“Hmph, hilarious.”
I snorted and set the bell down on the table. Benjamin grumbled but still sipped the strawberry milk I'd prepared for him. He seemed to like it. It was the same honey-drenched strawberry milk I made for Ren.
“How's this?”
I spun around once in front of him. Benjamin tilted his head curiously as he drank.
“What?”
“Can I do it with this much mana?”
I summoned the Dragon's Mana I could now handle quite skillfully. A dark crimson energy surged from my entire body, rippling like flames—beautiful yet eerie enough to earn the Carpoem Duke the title of the Flame Knight.
“You're a real monster,” Benjamin muttered with a look of disgust.
Pretending not to hear, I asked again, “Can I do it?”
“More than enough. Way more than enough.”
I shrugged and withdrew the mana. It was dragon-granted power, after all—overwhelming even for the Magic Tower Master.
We planned to use this mana to turn back the Duke's time. That way, we could lift the curse without interference from karma.
“Can you do it before the Magic Festival?”
“Hmm, that's a tight deadline.”
The Magic Festival was right around the corner. Benjamin stroked his chin, looking troubled.
“We have to. We need to catch the mage who cast the curse, too.”
“Planning to flush them out at the festival?”
“They're probably still watching the Duke closely. If the curse lifts, they'll panic and investigate.”
“I'll be the prime suspect, no doubt.”
“Exactly. So you'll have to be the bait.”
“Cheeky.”
Benjamin chuckled and took another sip of strawberry milk. Maybe he was only coming to my room for this.
I sipped my own tea, pondering the reasonable suspicion. A bitter taste filled my mouth.
“You actually drink that bitter stuff.”
“This is the bitterness of life.”
He sometimes gave me odd looks at my modern Korean sayings. Maybe because we'd grown so comfortable—Benjamin always stared at me like I was some rare specimen.
“No such saying in the Empire.”
“I know, right?”
We bickered until quite some time had passed. I asked him to say hi to Ren and sent him off. I planned to resume training tomorrow, so I turned in early.
* * *
The next day, before heading to the training grounds, I stopped by the Duke's office. He'd summoned me urgently.
I headed there puzzled, only to spot Dominic suspiciously lurking outside.
I snuck up quietly. “...Dom, what're you doing?”
“Eek!”
Dominic jumped in shock.
“Ah, Lady Abigail! You startled me!”
“What are you doing out here? Why not go in?”
He looked incredibly suspicious. Why was the Duke's adjutant hovering outside instead of entering? I eyed him up and down pitifully.
“Did Father scold you?”
“No, it's not that!”
Dominic shouted indignantly, then clapped a hand over his mouth, realizing how loud he'd been.
Definitely suspicious. I narrowed my eyes.
“So what's going on?”
“Well, uh, I...”
Dominic hesitated and edged away from the door.
Where do you think you're going? I grabbed the nape of his neck—he was much taller, but easy enough to catch.
“Eek!”
“Come on, let's go in.”
His nape was a bit high up, but manageable. And I was stronger than the unathletic Dominic.
He flailed but couldn't escape. I flung open the office door just like that.
“Ah, Abi?”
“...”
Awkward. The Duke wasn't alone. There were strangers inside.
I immediately released Dominic's nape, but they'd already seen everything.
“Ahem, Father, you called for me?”
I brazenly approached the Duke, thick-skinned as ever. Dominic's embarrassment was his problem.
“Yes, come closer.”
The startled Duke composed himself and beckoned me. I approached and glanced at the others.
A tall man and a boy slightly taller than me stood there. Strikingly, both had black hair and black eyes.
People from the northernmost regions were said to have black hair and eyes—likely this tribe from the edge of the north.
But their appearance was rough, filthy like they hadn't bathed in days.
“Greetings, my lady.”
The tall, stern-faced man bowed first. A perfect noble greeting.
He looked like a bandit at a glance, but clearly no commoner.
“I am Rald Servbo, high priest of the temple that worships the Dragon God.”
“Dragon God?”
Puzzled, I turned to the Duke for explanation.
“The Servbo are a northern minority tribe that reveres the Carpoem dragon as a god.”
“Ah, I see.”
Worshipping that nasty dragon as a god. What an odd clan.
I smiled back at him. “Pleased to meet you, High Priest Rald.”
“The honor is mine.”
Northerners often had dark hair, but not as pitch-black as the Carpoems'. Yet the Servbo matched us perfectly, with black eyes to boot. I felt an odd kinship.
“Ian, greet your liege.”
“Yes, Father.”
The boy behind Rald stepped forward and bowed.
“Ian Servbo, son of the high priest, greets his liege.”
“...Huh?”
Stunned, I couldn't respond and looked to the Duke.
“Ahem, High Priest. I haven't properly explained to my daughter yet. You must be exhausted from riding day and night—rest, and we'll talk later.”
“Understood.”
They left quietly, and I turned back to the Duke.
“Who are they? Why call me 'liege' and 'lord'?”
I recalled the boy named Ian. His black eyes stared straight at me, sending a chill down my spine.
No hostility or killing intent. His demeanor was excessively polite.
But something repelled me. I couldn't put the sticky feeling into words.
Then the Duke's words revealed it.
“They revere the dragon—a lot. They see ducal heirs as the dragon's incarnation.”
“Us as the dragon's incarnation?”
“Yes. They rushed from the temple upon hearing you'd been chosen by the dragon.”
Fanatics. My head already ached.
“The high priest offers his finest child to the heir. They swear loyalty solely to the heir.”
“Not even to you, the Duke?”
“That's their tradition. They serve the heir who has just inherited the dragon's power as its incarnation.”
Having subordinates loyal to me, not the Duke, felt alien. In this mansion, everything was his—Abigail owned nothing. The master of all was Adrian Carpoem, not me.
But something struck me as odd. If the high priest always sent a child to the heir, the Duke must have had a Servbo subordinate.
I'd never seen one in the knight order. Curious, I asked.
“Did the previous high priest send a child to you too, Father?”
“He did.”
“Where is he? I don't recall anyone with the Servbo name in the estate.”
The Duke fell silent, then answered in a subdued voice.
“He died protecting me.”
“Ah.”
“The current high priest's younger brother. He fell fighting monsters alongside me. I was still lacking back then.”
The Duke's bitter expression was unfamiliar. Clearly a painful memory.
And I realized: I'd accumulate countless such memories ahead.
“The high priest's son will train with you in the knight order from now on. But as your personal guard, not a knight. He'll never leave your side, no matter what you do.”
“Can't we send him back?”
“We could. But by their tradition, a high priest's child rejected by the heir must commit suicide.”
“Ha.”
I laughed in disbelief. Keep him and he dies; send him back and he dies.
Northern knights learn swordsmanship to slay monsters and protect themselves—they must survive to be useful.
But this fanatic's child seemed wired differently. Those blind eyes fixed only on me screamed brainwashing and obsession.
Honestly, burdensome. And knowing the Duke's Servbo protector died too left a bad taste.
Still, I couldn't send that young boy back to his death. What a vile custom.
If I become Duke, I'll smash these rotten northern temple traditions first thing.
“Got it. I'll accept Ian as my subordinate.”
“Good. And I've sent the divorce papers to the imperial family.”
“Really?”
My sunken mood lifted a bit.
“It'll take time for the Emperor's approval.”
“That's fine. Thank you, Father.”
If the Duke insists strongly, even the Emperor can't refuse. He'll drag his feet, sure—but once I'm official heir, no grounds to block it.
Until then, the smooth divorce proceedings even thrilled me.