My Slain Dragon Bride

Chapter 105: Chapter 105

Chapter 105 - Life or Death

"What do you mean by that?"

"I didn’t tell the others because I didn’t want to spread unnecessary fear, but do you realize that what you did was no different from suicide?"

Hanson put on a brave front at those words.

"What danger is there? If your administrator lays a hand on me, your side will only suffer the consequences..."

"What are you talking about? You almost lost your life just a moment ago."

"Administrator Isabella didn’t do anything. How could I have lost my life?"

"People like you wouldn’t understand, but I was once a mercenary. I traveled all over the Cerdes Continent, taking on every job that paid. During those days, I once encountered some Dragon Spawn."

Normally, Hanson would have dismissed it as the exaggerated boasting people often spouted.

But the middle-aged man had the murderous eyes of someone no braggart could ever imitate.

"That day, we were hunting an ogre. Since the target was dangerous, we brought a large mercenary force and prepared thoroughly. It was a fierce battle. The ogre’s regeneration and our preparations were evenly matched. Then an unexpected guest appeared—a Dragon Spawn."

The middle-aged foreman swallowed hard.

"It seemed the ogre was also the Dragon Spawn’s target, so we ended up fighting together. No... calling it a joint battle would be an exaggeration. The moment he arrived, he cut off the ogre’s head. All we did afterward was scratch up the corpse."

"What does that have to do with what’s happening now?"

"Listen to the end. The story only begins here. After the ogre died, he cut off one of its ears and tossed it to our mercenary captain."

"You mean the proof of subjugation?"

"That’s right. Since the Dragon Spawn had taken the credit for the kill, it was his way of showing us some goodwill."

"That sounds like it ended peacefully. Why are you telling me this?"

"We thought so too. But we were wrong. Our mercenary captain had once been a knight. Worse, he was immature. He had the nerve to talk back to that Dragon Spawn. Do you know what happened then?"

With a stiff expression, the man mimed slitting a throat.

"He cut off his head."

"..."

"You think only he died? No. After that, he cut down ten more people before finally stopping the merciless slaughter."

"Why would he do something like that..."

"Simple. Because he talked back. To them, it’s unforgivable for a weak and insignificant youngster to cling to his pride. Do you finally understand what you’ve done?"

The foreman jerked his chin toward a certain spot.

It was where the armored knight had been sitting.

"If that honored guest hadn’t stopped you, not only you, but several more people here would have died before it ended."

With those words, the middle-aged foreman slung his tools over his shoulder and walked outside.

Hanson couldn’t bring himself to follow.

He kept replaying the man’s words over and over in his mind.

Just how absurdly reckless his actions had been.

’Still, I was right.’

Wasn’t it because the armored knight was there that he had escaped death?

Whatever the case, things were unfolding exactly as he had intended.

***

Meanwhile, Isabella was also reflecting on the strange sensation she had experienced.

’For a moment, instinct completely overwhelmed me.’

A Dragon Spawn’s instincts ultimately revolved around one thing—honor.

The most noble beings beneath the heavens were one’s father and mother.

Anyone who defiled their names must be made into an example to warn all others.

Anyone who killed their children must be hunted to the ends of Hell and put to a painful death.

That innate nature had overwhelmed her for an instant.

It couldn’t have been otherwise.

Even among humans, Dragon Spawn divided them into different classes.

Those worthy of respect were respected accordingly.

Everyone else was no different from dogs or livestock.

The only thing they had over animals was that they could communicate a little better.

Isabella, the daughter of Iorga, was no different.

She respected Ferda because he was Valdrova’s fiancé and a capable Regent.

She respected William because he possessed exceptional martial skill and an even greater force of will.

But Hanson?

He was no different from ordinary humans.

In other words, he was on the same level as a dog that could speak.

She had even brought him a special treat, yet instead of wagging his tail, the insolent dog had bitten its master’s hand.

She had gone through the trouble of proposing a peaceful solution and obtaining approval, only for him to demand even more.

A dog that bites people deserves to die.

That single thought had consumed her, and she had tried to kill Hanson.

Making an example of him alone would have been enough.

’Until that man stopped me.’

The armored knight.

Tall, with a sturdy build.

Armor that even Surveillance Magic couldn’t see through.

Its appearance resembled something made by an ordinary village blacksmith, but it undoubtedly used the finest materials.

’If that man hadn’t stopped me...’

Isabella would have acted entirely on instinct.

Hanson’s head would have rolled across the ground, or if he were lucky, his entire body would have been reduced to a mangled wreck.

Either way, he would never have escaped unscathed.

’I thought he was merely dull and simple-minded, but his instincts are unexpectedly sharp.’

Isabella, too, began taking an interest in him.

It would be a waste to leave him as nothing more than an ordinary laborer.

***

The armored knight, Valdrova, pondered.

’Why is everyone sitting here?’

This was before Isabella had entered.

The atmosphere was far from ordinary.

All she could see were the foremen.

They were packed tightly into the cramped office, waiting for something.

’I’m sure the Chief said something...’

Before all this happened, Hanson had explained something to her.

But his explanation had dragged on so long that she failed to grasp the main point.

There was only one thing she clearly remembered.

—We desperately need your help, Sir Knight.

They desperately needed her help.

So, although she didn’t know what was happening, she decided to help.

’Because it’s for this village!’

She had assumed it would involve using her strength somehow.

Instead, all she had done was sit beside Hanson.

No matter how she looked at it, it didn’t seem like anyone actually needed help.

’I’m bored.’

Without moving, it felt as though her muscles were stiffening.

She wanted to get up, but the atmosphere kept her rooted in place.

’I’ll wait just a little longer...’

Thinking that, she remained seated for hours.

A little later, someone entered the room.

’It’s Iorga’s child.’

At the same time, Luri’s warning came back to her.

—Master, you absolutely must not let anyone discover that you worked here as a laborer. Especially not those damned water lizards.

Luri had worn a fiercer expression than ever before, making it impossible to ignore the warning.

It made Valdrova nervous.

What if they found out...

Meanwhile, the conversation continued.

Just as Isabella was finishing speaking, Valdrova finally caught the important part.

—Please end the strike and return to your livelihoods.

Livelihood.

In other words, go back to work.

Only then did Valdrova understand.

’So that’s what this was!’

The reason everyone had been waiting here was because that descendant of Iorga had forbidden them from working.

That was why they had all gathered here.

’So everyone was this angry because they had been stopped from working.’

Even Valdrova would have been angry.

She felt delighted that she had something in common with the laborers.

’Now it’s time to get back to work.’

But then—

"No."

Hanson refused.

’Why??’

Wasn’t the one who had forbidden them to work Iorga’s child?

Then why was he refusing now that she was telling them to work?

Valdrova couldn’t understand Hanson’s actions.

’Why wouldn’t he work when working earns money?’

Working earns money.

Money lets you eat delicious food.

They were even offering to pay more, so she couldn’t understand why anyone would reject that.

Most of all—

’I want to work.’

Valdrova wanted to see another building completed as soon as possible.

Unable to bear it any longer, she walked over and gently poked Hanson’s shoulder.

Fortunately, he seemed to understand what she meant.

He stopped arguing, and the foremen headed back outside to resume work.

Valdrova looked up at the sky.

Before she realized it, the sun had already tilted far toward the west.

’I have to finish today’s quota quickly.’

It wasn’t because something was chasing her.

She simply loved working.

That was why she liked Mondays more than Sundays, when everyone else rested.

’Time to get back to work.’

The Red Dragon, Valdrova.

Once again, she cheerfully headed to the construction site.

***

The day of the conference.

The building that would become the Hestia Branch of the Pascal Trading Company had been chosen as today’s meeting hall.

The reason was very simple.

Ferda simply didn’t want to let those arrogant bastards into his own home.

Luri agreed with him, and Isabella finally relented.

Of course, Isabella gave a different explanation.

She claimed it was because she wished to observe Hestia Village’s circumstances firsthand and because she trusted the quality of the village’s buildings.

Since she had always enjoyed an excellent reputation, it wasn’t difficult for the commoners to believe she genuinely cared about them.

Her favorable reputation only continued to grow.

After finishing his morning preparations, Ferda headed toward the conference hall.

As soon as he entered, everyone present rose to their feet and bowed respectfully.

"We will now begin the conference."

The moment Ferda took his seat, Isabella assumed the role of moderator and opened the meeting.

Following the customary formalities, Ferda recited the ceremonial phrases while quietly observing everyone’s expressions.

Many people were already seated across from him.

Every one of them wore a headband bearing the slogan:

"Life or Death."

’Should I just kill them all?’

If they were practically begging to die, wouldn’t it only be polite to grant their wish?

Or perhaps he should make them suffer until they wished for death.

The fact that he could do neither and instead had to sit here listening to them ramble was unbearably frustrating to Ferda.

Still, that much had been expected.

What Ferda hadn’t expected was another familiar figure.

Not a familiar face.

A familiar helmet.

’The armored knight.’

His feelings toward that person were rather complicated.

The one who had refused his offer of knighthood and walked away.

It would be a lie to say he felt no resentment.

After all the effort he had gone through to persuade him, the man had rejected his goodwill.

’No, I can understand rejecting the offer.’

But to reject it only to come here and stir up trouble?

’Don’t tell me...’

A possibility crossed Ferda’s mind.

’What if that bastard is the true mastermind behind all of this?’

It was certainly possible.

What if, instead of merely becoming a knight, he was aiming for a noble title complete with his own territory?

There were plenty of people in the Empire who did things like that.

What if that man was laying out a grand scheme to make a comeback?

’Besides, there’s no risk of failure.’

He could simply put Hanson forward as a puppet leader, then disappear the moment things turned unfavorable.

’Pathetic.’

The humiliation born of betrayal welled up inside him.

He had thought the man possessed at least a little integrity, yet he turned out to be this vulgar and opportunistic.

’One day, I’ll tear that mouth of yours apart.’

Ferda stared at the armored knight with hatred in his eyes.

Inside the armor, Valdrova noticed his gaze.

’Mr. Ferda is staring at me...’

There wasn’t the slightest hint of kindness in his eyes.

And yet, for some reason, she didn’t dislike that look at all.

She struggled to suppress her pounding heart.

As the meeting officially began, the first person to speak was Hanson, the representative of the workers.

"First, I would like to sincerely thank the Regent and the Administrator for listening to the voices of ordinary people."

Hanson spoke while reading from the paper he had prepared.

"Last autumn, we first set foot on this land as laborers who came here to help build Hestia Village."

The opening was, at least, a fairly respectable introduction.

"However, a recent unfortunate incident resulted in thirty casualties, throwing the village into great confusion."

There had certainly been some confusion, but nothing severe enough to make such a fuss over.

Ferda couldn’t tell whether Hanson genuinely didn’t know that, or whether he was simply shameless enough to pretend otherwise.

"If you are truly wise rulers and leaders, then we humbly ask that you hear the pleas of your people. First, we request that the wages of construction workers be increased. Second, we request the establishment of a Construction Union."

Their demands appeared to be only two.

But in reality, there were three.

Money.

A place to belong.

’And power.’

Wherever people gathered, power naturally followed.

Organizations called unions or guilds were, under the pretense of representing the voices of commoners, institutions created to wield power.

’Someone definitely wrote this for him.’

Judging from the vocabulary and the way he was reading it, there was no way Hanson had written it himself.

’Did that bastard write it for him instead?’

If the armored knight was capable of writing something at that level, then Ferda’s theory about there being a mastermind behind all this gained credibility.

’In any case, everything is proceeding exactly as expected.’

More precisely, just as Stephan had predicted.

Having managed a major company under his father, Stephan immediately recognized this sort of scheme.

"What if..."

Ferda asked, just in case.

"What do you intend to do if I simply ignore your requests?"

Hanson stiffened upon hearing the question.

Ferda was young, but the intensity in his eyes far exceeded his age.

Overwhelmed by that gaze, Hanson subtly signaled to Valdrova.

’My turn.’

Valdrova quietly moved and placed her hand on the pen and paper.

She was supposed to write the slogan displayed across their foreheads.

’ "Life or Death"... that’s what he told me to write, right?’

Valdrova tensed up.

Everyone’s eyes were on her.

She figured it would be simple since all she had to do was write the words.

But then—

’...How do you write it again?’

She had forgotten how to write.

No, it was more accurate to say she didn’t know.

Reading was easy enough now.

When she saw words, she could read them.

But writing was an entirely different matter.

In other words, the input worked.

The output did not.

It was hardly surprising.

She could count the number of times she had actually written words in her entire life on one hand.

Naturally, she had never practiced, nor did she properly remember how the letters were spelled.

’ "Life or Death," "Life or Death"...’

She repeatedly chanted the phrase in her mind as she tried to recreate it in writing.

The result was this:

—Life or Deth.

".....?"

"......?"

The handwriting looked cheap, and even the spelling was wrong.

Not only Ferda, but even Hanson, their representative, broke into a cold sweat in shock.

Looking at those words, Ferda became certain of one thing.

’So he isn’t some mastermind after all.’

At that moment, his contempt turned into sheer pity.