My Slain Dragon Bride

Chapter 51: Chapter 51

Chapter 51 - Damn It

The Grand Ducal Council Hall.

Representatives of every intelligent race across the entire Cerdes Continent had gathered in one place.

Although the hall was vast and filled with countless attendees, there were no assigned seats.

Instead, each delegation sat together with its own faction or neighboring allies, subtly displaying the extent of its influence.

’Back then, the balance of power was truly at a stalemate.’

To Ferda, it looked as though he were staring at a living map of the continent’s political landscape.

The largest nation on the continent was the Arken Empire.

To counter its strength, the surrounding kingdoms had formed alliances in an effort to match its scale.

That meant the continent’s balance of power was still being maintained.

As a member of the Arken Empire, Ferda took his seat among the imperial delegation.

Unlike the banquet hall, the Grand Ducal Council Hall lacked any sense of extravagance.

Its design was deliberately restrained, no different from other council chambers, so that no one would be distracted by luxury.

The semicircular arrangement of seats naturally drew everyone’s attention toward the center.

And seated at the very center was the master of the Grand Ducal Council Hall.

’The White Dragon, Blancaros.’

Snow-white hair.

Pure white eyes.

And the face of a handsome young man untouched by the passage of time.

His whiteness was so unnaturally radiant that it almost seemed as though he were glowing.

Such was the immortal beauty possessed by dragons.

’A dragon indeed.’

As Ferda quietly observed him, Blancaros’s eyes slowly shifted.

At first, Ferda thought it was his imagination.

But that illusion lasted only a moment.

Blancaros was staring directly at him.

Those white eyes were cold...

Yet utterly pure.

The instant their gazes met, Ferda felt every Circle within his body tremble.

It was the instinctive warning one felt before an overwhelmingly superior being.

Strangely enough, that warning carried no sense of hostility.

It felt just like the moment he had stepped into Valdrova’s domain.

Standing behind Blancaros were three white-haired men and women.

They were the three Dragon Spawn created through Blancaros’s Ascension Ceremony.

The Tongue.

The Scales.

And the Hand.

Blancaros raised a hand.

With the slightest movement of his finger, one of the women standing at attention cleared her throat before speaking.

She was Blancaros’s Tongue.

The one who spoke on behalf of the White Dragon and presided over the proceedings of the council.

Her voice echoed throughout the chamber.

"To all those who have come here in the name of peace upon the continent, we extend our sincere gratitude."

She began reading from the prepared script in her hands.

After the customary formalities, she moved on to the official agenda of the summit.

"We shall begin by mediating the dispute between King Hudret and Duke Yurei."

The opening case was a relatively simple dispute.

Though calling it a "dispute" was something of an understatement—it was, in truth, a war.

A man immediately stood up with a frown.

"I sincerely thank the representative of the Master of Great Order for arranging this assembly. However, before these proceedings begin, I must correct the record. This entire conflict—this tragedy—was brought about by King Hudret’s invasion."

Another man rose from his seat.

It was King Hudret himself.

"Our people were the first to die. How could I possibly stop my villagers after they rose to avenge them?"

"But you were the one who marched an army into our lands, King Hudret!"

"Please maintain order. This is a place for mediation. Final compensation will be determined based on the evidence submitted."

Blancaros’s Tongue cut off their argument before it could escalate into an endless exchange.

"Both parties will now submit the evidence they have prepared."

The Hudret and Yurei factions submitted their collected evidence in written form.

The purpose of the mediation was to determine compensation for the damages suffered during the war.

Each document floated into the air one by one before spreading out in front of Blancaros.

The ministers and officials of both nations had spent two months compiling those reports.

Yet Blancaros finished reading every single one of them in barely a minute.

He then gestured toward a young boy with a slight movement of his finger.

The boy held a set of scales.

He was Blancaros’s Scales.

The scales in the boy’s hands slowly tipped to one side.

As everyone watched, Blancaros’s Hand immediately began drafting the official ruling, while the Tongue announced the verdict.

"Judgment! Duke Yurei shall pay sixty thousand Goldens in compensation to King Hudret."

It was a moment where joy and despair crossed paths.

Having lost the case, Duke Yurei exploded with outrage.

"This is absurd! They were the invaders! Why should I be the one paying compensation?!"

"It has been determined that your forces violated the Laws of War by refusing to take prisoners and by obstructing the priests responsible for treating the wounded. After weighing all factors, the council has concluded that the greater fault lies with Duke Yurei."

Duke Yurei immediately objected.

"Every nation does the same thing! King Hudret’s knights undoubtedly committed those acts as well! Yet you’re saying only we are forbidden from doing so—"

"As previously stated, all you need to do is present evidence."

Blancaros’s Tongue repeated her explanation in the same emotionless voice.

"This is an absolutely neutral territory where law and order are upheld. Once mediation is requested here, everything proceeds according to the laws of the Cerdes Continent. Evidence takes precedence over custom. If both sides committed the same acts, then submit evidence proving it."

In other words, even if the other side had struck first and Yurei had merely retaliated, without evidence only Yurei would be judged guilty.

Depending on the strength of the evidence collected, the roles of victim and aggressor could easily be reversed.

Yurei’s face twisted with bitter rage.

Looking down at him calmly, Blancaros’s Tongue pointed toward the confirmation document lying before him.

"Duke Yurei, the mediation has concluded. Please sign the confirmation document."

Duke Yurei stared silently at the document, consumed by both fury and humiliation.

He had every reason to hesitate.

The moment he signed it...

There would be no turning back.

Whether he accepted the ruling willingly or not...

From this moment onward, history would record him as the aggressor.

’Its authority is absolute.’

Once a verdict was decided...

It could never be reversed.

’And refusing wasn’t an option either.’

Everyone seated in this hall served as witnesses.

As judges.

And, if necessary, as opportunistic predators.

Defying a ruling handed down by the Grand Ducal Council merely gave everyone present an excuse to tear you apart.

Yesterday’s enemy remained an enemy.

But yesterday’s ally could become today’s enemy in an instant.

"...I accept... the council’s judgment."

Duke Yurei lowered his head in submission.

His signature trembled across the page as though an earthquake had shaken his hand.

’So this is the moment the victim became the aggressor.’

Lacking the full story, that was all Ferda could infer.

"If he thought he was wronged, he should’ve finished the war himself."

Someone muttered quietly.

Ferda silently agreed.

If they had truly wanted unquestionable compensation, they shouldn’t have sought mediation.

They should have fought until one side was completely annihilated.

Ending things halfway only guaranteed future retaliation.

Blancaros’s Tongue proceeded to the next dispute.

Several more disputes followed.

Most of them were trivial.

Conflicts between dwarves and elves.

Civil strife among dwarves over royal succession and bloodlines.

Endless disputes that no one truly wished to resolve.

Arguments destined to continue forever.

Each case was postponed repeatedly as both sides continued bickering without end.

After two long hours...

The seemingly endless disputes finally came to an end.

"There are no further mediation requests. We shall now proceed to the next agenda item. This proposal was submitted by the Chancellor of Escolleia..."

The Tongue paused briefly, taking a quiet breath before continuing.

"The agenda concerns the increasing population of monsters and the possibility of the return of the Demon Race."

As the great city of scholars, Escolleia was led not by a mayor, but by a Chancellor.

The bald Chancellor stepped onto the platform.

Years of relentless academic pursuit had cost him not only his youth...

But every strand of his hair.

"It has now been one hundred and thirty-eight years since Godwin, the Master of Deep Darkness who plunged the continent into chaos, was slain. However, if you examine this graph..."

Using magic, the Chancellor projected an image into the air.

Pointing at the graph, he continued.

"Contrary to what one would expect after his death, this graph shows that the number of monsters has steadily continued to increase."

It was an upward trend.

Though admittedly, the increase itself was not particularly dramatic.

The moment the graph appeared, comments immediately began flying around the hall.

"The increase doesn’t seem all that significant."

"The issue isn’t how much they’ve increased. The fact that they’re increasing at all is what’s important."

"Those are merely projections, aren’t they? In reality, the numbers may yet decline. This seems overly alarmist."

Opinions were nearly split down the middle.

Some thought people were overreacting to such a minor increase.

Others believed even that slight increase was cause for serious concern.

Back and forth the arguments continued.

Yet upon closer inspection...

It had less to do with protecting the continent...

And more to do with finding excuses.

’An excuse for military expansion.’

Those advocating vigilance wanted justification for increasing their military strength.

Those dismissing the threat merely wanted to prevent unnecessary spending and stop their rivals from expanding their armies.

Whether the continent itself survived or collapsed...

They couldn’t care less.

Only their own interests mattered.

Just then—

"Watch your mouths!"

Someone slammed the table and stood up with overwhelming force.

Yet the voice itself was unexpectedly youthful.

Everyone turned.

It was Erdes Roton.

"Do you realize that Lord Valdrova’s fiancé is sitting right here?! Do you really think you can run your mouths like that and get away with it?!"

Everyone immediately began searching for Ferda.

Those who found him fixed their eyes upon him.

Inside, Ferda muttered,

You damned brat.

"Valdrova’s representative, is it?"

"So that silent Evil Red Dragon has actually brought a representative?"

Whispers spread throughout the chamber as people exchanged rumors about Ferda and Valdrova.

The Chancellor, whose expression had already looked as though he were walking barefoot through a bed of thorns, now appeared even more uncomfortable—as if sparks had landed directly at his feet.

Ferda glanced sideways at Erdes, the one responsible for this mess.

She looked absolutely delighted.

Like an arsonist happily watching a fire from across the river.

There would come a time when he had to step forward.

But he had hoped to observe the atmosphere a little longer.

Since all eyes were already upon him, Ferda decided he might as well speak.

"It is true that monsters continue to pour into the Far East without end. However, that issue differs somewhat from the matter currently under discussion, so I will refrain from commenting further."

"Thank you for your understanding, Your Excellency the Regent. The matter I am discussing concerns the frequency of monster appearances across the continent excluding the Far East."

The Chancellor looked like a drowning man who had just grabbed a lifeline.

His authority in this hall was clearly quite weak.

"Our current theory is... that someone is deliberately summoning and creating monsters. In other words, we suspect that the number of followers of the Demon Race may be increasing."

"Followers of the Demon Race..."

"They’re fanatics beyond comparison with mere Demon Followers, aren’t they?"

Although both Followers of the Demon Race and Demon Followers were despised throughout society, they were fundamentally different.

Demons sought to rule the mortal world.

The Demon Race wished only to see it destroyed.

Demon Followers had something to gain.

Followers of the Demon Race gained nothing at all.

They were evil for the sake of evil itself.

"And what exactly would they gain from that?"

"If they share the Demon Race’s wishes... then surely they seek the resurrection of the Black Dragon, Godwin."

"The resurrection of the Black Dragon, Godwin!"

That possibility was on an entirely different level from merely seeing an increase in monsters.

Even those who had dismissed the issue moments earlier fell silent.

Everyone’s attention shifted toward the Dragon Spawn seated at the front.

"...Resurrection."

For the first time, Chairman Blancaros himself spoke.

The instant the Master of Order opened his mouth, the entire atmosphere of the hall fell under his control.

"What are your thoughts?"

Blancaros directed the question toward the Dragon Spawn.

The first to answer was Silverwind’s Spawn.

The silver-haired men and women all bore scars across their bodies regardless of age or gender.

Those scars were the honorable marks of Silverwind, guardian of the Northern Tundra.

"Despite the increasing number of monsters, we have continued exterminating the remaining remnants without pause. I swear that no one hates the Black Dragon Godwin more deeply than we do."

"Your loyalty to Silverwind has always been beyond question. And what of Iorga?"

The representative of Iorga was a young and refined woman.

Though her face possessed the youthful vitality of someone in her early twenties, the elegance she carried had clearly been tempered by many years of experience.

"The Cerdes Continent has shown no unusual fluctuations in Mana. We also continue to receive regular reports from adventurers regarding any locations that could conceal such activities. If there had truly been an incident capable of turning the continent upside down, we would have been the first to notice it."

The priest of Orosagrado naturally picked up where the previous speaker had left off.

"Our Order of the Golden Scales is also continuously monitoring the movements of the Demon Race, and at present, we see nothing that warrants concern."

All three representatives of the Guardian Dragons attending the Grand Ducal Council agreed that there was no cause for alarm.

They all served the Guardian Dragons, whose foremost duty was safeguarding the continent.

They stood far above the political games of mere humans, and the weight of their words was entirely different.

After hearing their opinions, Blancaros quietly closed his mouth once more.

His Tongue spoke on his behalf.

"The conclusion of this agenda is that there is no immediate cause for concern. However, given the continued upward trend, vigilance is advised. Chancellor of Escolleia, do you have any objections?"

"I have none."

The Chancellor, who had been wiping sweat from his brow, shook his head and stepped down from the podium.

The matter had been too ambiguous to conclude that it was simply needless alarm, so he was satisfied that it had at least been officially reported.

"The next proposal comes from Ferda Valdrova..."

Blancaros’s Tongue suddenly stopped speaking.

This pause was different from the hesitation she had shown while reading the Chancellor’s proposal.

This time, she hesitated over whether this agenda should even be announced publicly.

That hesitation naturally drew her gaze toward Blancaros.

Sensing her look, Blancaros answered with nothing more than his eyes.

Receiving his silent approval, Blancaros’s Tongue continued.

"The agenda is... the recognition of the Red Dragon Valdrova’s status... as a Guardian Dragon."

Silence engulfed the Grand Ducal Council.

Those gathered here were all figures of ducal rank or higher.

Each ruled territories comparable to entire kingdoms and commanded immense military power.

Yet even they held their breath at the announcement.

Ferda had already drawn everyone’s attention once before.

There was no need for anyone to look around searching for him again.

This was an issue so sensitive that ordinary humans would never even dare to propose it, much less participate in the discussion.

It was tantamount to suicide.

Unless someone had a death wish, they would never attempt such a thing.

Yet the man who had submitted the proposal—

Ferda Valdrova—rose confidently to his feet as if inviting everyone to watch.

The way he walked toward the podium resembled a high-wire performance.

The spectators felt their hearts race with anxiety...

While the man walking across the wire himself remained perfectly calm.

Standing upon the podium, Ferda looked up at the council chamber.

There was only one thing he could do.

"This is my first time attending the Grand Ducal Council, yet I have presumptuously brought forth a proposal. I am Ferda Valdrova, Regent."

His eyes slowly swept across the assembled delegates before he continued.

"As this proposal makes abundantly clear, I came here fully prepared to make enemies."

Having submitted this proposal...

All that remained was to stand by his convictions.