A Loyal Hound
“What are you talking about? Didn't you see how I fought just now?”
I'd been shocked myself when I cleaved that mountain-sized brute of a monster with a single sword stroke. I hadn't realized the Dragon's Mana was that potent. Yet here he was, making a fuss over a tiny scratch like this—it was almost funny.
“I'm fine, Ian.”
“……”
“This'll heal if I just lick it.”
I even stuck out my tongue to prove it, but that's when Pel's reprimand rang in my head.
[It might be coated in monster venom. Be careful.]
“Oh, right.”
Especially that first plant-type monster—it had spewed out globs of foul, dark slime. Wherever it hit the ground, it melted everything around it like sulfuric acid. No harm in heeding Pel's warning.
“Ian, let's hurry back and wash up.”
“Yes, my liege.”
I grabbed the hand I'd briefly let go of. How to put it? Ian, who never left my side even for a moment, now felt like a brother. Abigail had no siblings, and I'd grown up an orphan, lonely as could be—so someone like Ian felt all the more precious.
But then, unbidden, the duke's bitter face came to mind. The face he'd made when he spoke of losing his Guardian.
Unconsciously, I gripped Ian's hand tighter.
“...My liege?”
“……”
A puzzled voice softly called to me. I turned to look at Ian's face. Jet-black hair and eyes. The boy who reminded me of Korea somehow soothed my heart. When we first met, his blind loyalty had overwhelmed me, leaving me at a loss. But now? It felt like I'd gained a loyal hunting hound—one with glossy black fur, trotting faithfully at my heels alone.
Of course, with power as ferocious as his, he'd need proper training.
“It's nothing. Let's go.”
“Yes.”
I pulled him along, feigning nonchalance. The previous Guardian who protected the duke had fallen in battle against monsters. I would never let Ian meet the same end.
With that silent vow, I moved forward.
* * *
Benjamin sighed. The familiar headache crashed over him. He pressed a hand to his forehead and groaned.
“Hoo.”
Perhaps things had already spiraled beyond saving. The war might have begun without his notice, poised to end everything in a flash. If he failed to fulfill his own role...?
That alone gnawed at him.
A small voice reached Benjamin, lost in thought.
“Master, may I come in?”
“...Enter.”
The magically sealed space rippled faintly, and someone stepped cautiously inside. It was Benjamin's disciple, Ren.
Ren approached the seated Benjamin quietly.
“What is it?”
“Well, um...”
Ren hemmed and hawed, struggling to speak. Benjamin eyed him curiously. Ren was always timid within the Magic Tower, but he'd never hesitated to talk to his master.
“What could possibly make you dawdle like this?”
“Master, the truth is...”
Ren swallowed hard under Benjamin's expectant gaze and finally confessed what he'd been mulling over for some time.
“Once I become a full-fledged mage, I want to go to the Carpoem Ducal House.”
“...What?”
Benjamin's eyes widened in shock. But Ren's gaze was resolute. It seemed he'd decided this long ago, on his own.
“What nonsense is this?”
Benjamin's tone sharpened with disbelief. Ren Magicus was the disciple of the Magic Tower Master—the next in line to lead the tower. To cast aside that inheritance for a ducal mage post? In the mana-barren north, no less?
Ren met his stunned master's eyes with calm composure.
“Do you truly believe I could become Tower Master?”
“That's...”
Truth be told, Ren had never imagined it himself. Branded as a cursed clan, no mage with their pride would follow him. Benjamin had foreseen that too.
“The Tower acknowledges only the strong as its master. In the end, all its mages will have no choice but to obey you.”
Becoming Tower Master required absolute power overwhelming every mage in the Tower. And that power lay dormant within Ren.
Not a half-baked master like himself—Ren would one day be the true lord of the Tower. According to the 'revelation,' no child surpassing Ren's talent would be born for the next century.
Knowing this, Benjamin grew anxious.
“Why this obsession with Lady Abigail Carpoem? Do you think her worth forsaking all this glory?”
“She...”
At Benjamin's question, Ren pictured Lady Abigail. Aside from his master, she was the first to treat him kindly even after learning of his Magicus blood. But that wasn't the only reason he wished to follow her.
“She needs me. Being by her side makes me feel useful.”
No one had ever wanted him. Every soul on the continent felt, great or small, an instinctive revulsion toward the Magicus clan—God's curse etched into their very bones.
Even Master Benjamin merely tolerated it to groom him as successor.
But not Lady Abigail. She alone saw him as an equal, sincerely.
“She's only using you. You know that—she leveraged our abilities to save her father.”
Besides, Abigail could treat Ren normally because she hailed from another world, not this continent. But Benjamin couldn't reveal that to him, making persuasion all the harder.
As expected, Ren's expression hardened further.
“It doesn't matter. I chose to follow her myself.”
If anything, her needing his power was a blessing. He'd hone his magic until she couldn't bear to let him go.
Benjamin scowled at his unyielding disciple.
“...Fine.”
“Really?”
“But I'll decide when you're recognized as a full mage.”
Ren's joyful face fell. To advance from apprentice to full mage required the master's approval. And Ren's master was none other than Benjamin.
If he played stubborn, approval might come in a year... or ten. Worst case, not until Ren's resolve broke.
“Must you go that far?”
Benjamin felt Ren's disappointment but had no choice. The continent would soon face unprecedented chaos. If Ren wasn't Tower Master by then, inheriting everything...
“I have my reasons too. Remember that.”
“……”
Ren vanished from the room without reply. Once his presence fully faded, Benjamin rubbed his throbbing forehead again.
“Hoo.”
It seemed his disciple's rebellion would drag on.
* * *
I stood atop a building overlooking the forest, surveying below. With sharp eyes, one could monitor the woods without tools.
Satisfied, I called down.
“This height should work fine, right?”
“Understood! You can come down now, milady!”
The construction foreman waved frantically from below. I circled my arm in an 'okay' gesture, then leaped into empty air.
“Lady Abigail!”
“Little Duchess!”
Various cries rang out, each with their own title for me.
Thud!
I landed flawlessly in the clearing, rendering their worry moot. Adjusting my mana, I touched down lightly on the grass without stirring a speck of dust.
“Th-that was dangerous!”
Jade rushed over at once, scolding me. I pouted at him.
“But it's such a hassle. All those stairs...”
“People watching nearly fainted! And mind your dignity!”
“Yeah, yeah.”
I nodded vaguely and pressed on. Fortunately, the outpost's framework would finish before winter.
“You've done great work. Keep it up.”
“H-ha, of course.”
The foreman gawked at me like I'd grown a second head. Well, who leaps off a 15-meter wall every day?
I snorted and eyed the towering wall before me. We'd cleared the monsters from this habitat with the knights and begun erecting the outpost. It had grown larger than planned—more fortress than base, walled and vast. The frame alone looked spacious and sturdy, thanks to the duke's unstinting support.
I'll have to thank him properly when I return.
Though when that might be remained unclear. With multiple such sites needed in monster hotspots, timelines stretched unpredictably. To avoid future woes, we had to prepare thoroughly now.
“Lady Abigail!”
“Ah, Teacher.”
Xavier Rector returned from outside with the knights. I approached with a smile.
“How's the research going?”
“Well, haha...”
No luck today, either. I offered sympathetic consolation, as expected.
“Don't rush it. We've got time.”
“A chance to unravel the north's mysteries, yet my heart races. Haha.”
We entered a newly completed building, Xavier scratching his head. He nodded approvingly.
“I was surprised when you first proposed this outpost, but seeing it now... wise choice.”
“You think so?”
“Yes. No one knows the future.”
Xavier headed to rest. Soon, workers swarmed, keeping me endlessly busy. Thus, preparations for the future progressed steadily.
And in the blink of an eye, six years slipped by.