My Slain Dragon Bride

Chapter 69: Chapter 69

Chapter 69 - The Fuse

Ferda inspected the bag he had taken from the Demon Race research facility.

Inside were several research journals and a few ampoules.

They were exactly as they had been when Zed had handed them over.

"He certainly knows how to get a job done."

Ferda couldn’t help admiring himself for recruiting Zed Swallow.

The only thing Ferda could offer him in return was a generous bonus.

’And information about Emilia’s whereabouts.’

He had to settle that matter somehow before Zed voiced his dissatisfaction.

That was the condition for keeping hold of a Master Thief who could never truly be restrained.

He had to find a solution before Zed started complaining.

"For now, I’ll just keep it in mind..."

Carrying the bag, Ferda headed to the study.

As always, a single young girl was there, quietly waiting for his orders.

"Mori."

Mori turned her head and looked up at him.

With her hair styled into luxurious curls, she looked every bit the noble young lady today as well.

"Could you decipher this for me?"

Ferda handed the journal to Mori.

Linne’s journal had been written entirely in cipher.

With Mori’s Library of All Things ability, decoding such ciphers should have been simple.

- Deciphering is impossible.

Yet the answer he received was a declaration of failure.

"What do you mean, impossible?"

- These are characters for which I possess no interpretive clues.

Characters that even the Library of All Things had no clues for.

That could only mean one thing.

"So... they’re an oral script."

A language passed down only by word of mouth, never recorded in writing, with meanings individually defined by each user.

There was only one race that possessed such writing.

’The High Elves.’

A race considered nobility among nobility, allowed to enter even the deepest parts of the World Tree.

Each individual developed a completely unique language that no one but themselves could interpret, making it unimaginably difficult to decipher.

If Director Linne had been a High Elf, it would make sense.

’So that Dark Elf was originally a High Elf?’

That was certainly unusual.

The High Elves were the most conservative and isolationist race in existence, living solely for the World Tree.

Yet one had fallen into corruption and pledged loyalty to Godwin.

It was as absurd as a headless chicken taking a stroll or a catfish breathing on dry land.

"Then do you have any records regarding the High Elves?"

- There are several observation records.

"Anything related to their writing?"

- None.

It felt like too much of a waste to leave it at that.

"Is there truly no way to interpret it?"

Mori nodded.

Then she quietly stared into empty space.

Creak... Creak...

Her body twisted unnaturally like a marionette puppet.

Her face flushed bright red, trembling violently as though it were about to explode.

"I take it back."

Pssshhh...

Like steam escaping from a kettle, her body gradually returned to normal.

Even if he wanted to understand the script, Ferda had no intention of breaking Mori in the process.

With a weary expression, Mori let her head droop onto her shoulder before looking back up at Ferda.

"How are things with work?"

Mori nodded.

- At present, there are no major issues regarding matters within Grand Duchess Valdrova’s territory. However, there are external problems.

"What are they?"

- First, Hellus Fovidas.

The man whose leash had been secured through the Extermination Squad.

In exchange for swearing loyalty to Ferda, he had been granted access to Mori’s wisdom, allowing him to continue living as a Sage.

"What about him?"

- Hellus Fovidas asks too many inefficient questions. At times, they lack logical consistency, and he frequently requests explanations involving imaginary scenarios.

Conversations with no clear answer always wore one down.

Recalling how Mori had nearly overworked herself trying to force a translation moments ago, Ferda could easily imagine just how inefficient Hellus truly was.

"So it’s interfering with work. What else?"

- Lady Valdrova has displayed signs of attempting to seize my authority eight separate times.

Surprisingly, that bothered him even less than the inefficient questions.

After all, Ferda had only intended to make use of her because he had never expected Mori to report something like that directly to him.

"From now on, limit him to five questions. If you determine in advance that a conclusion cannot be reached, you may refuse to answer. Would that improve efficiency?"

- Efficiency is expected to increase. However, one factor still remains.

"What is it?"

- Echidna Phyliaz.

He would have been lying if he claimed he hadn’t expected that.

He had seen Mori utterly overwhelmed by Echidna more than once.

"If Echidna’s behavior is causing problems, I can impose some restrictions. But I can’t completely control her."

- The influence of Echidna Phyliaz is approximately three times greater than that of Hellus Fovidas. She frequently requests that I address her using titles I cannot comprehend.

"What kind of titles?"

- Starting with ’Big Sister,’ then progressing to ’Mom,’ ’Mother,’ and even ’Your Majesty Mother.’ They are titles completely inappropriate for our relationship.

To Ferda, the request seemed simple enough.

"Why not just indulge her?"

- Once I comply, she immediately demands role-playing. If I participate, she becomes immersed in it and eventually starts believing it is reality. Her delusional disorder worsens.

So that was why she was three times more troublesome.

’She is a Witch, after all.’

Although Ferda understood Mori’s predicament, he still hesitated.

Only Echidna was capable of looking after Mori.

More importantly, because of Zed’s situation, Echidna had been working herself into a frenzy lately.

"For the time being, just humor her. That Witch is still necessary to us. Other than that, is there any way to improve your efficiency?"

Mori thought quietly.

She lightly tapped her pen against the paper before giving a brief reply.

- Please praise me.

"...What?"

- When I accomplish something, please praise me. The praise should correspond to the difficulty of the task.

That request was completely unexpected.

The words please praise me coming from the pen of the Slave Sage who possessed the Library of All Things?

"Is that really necessary?"

- Numerous studies consistently conclude that praise improves work efficiency and is highly effective at reducing stress.

"Those studies are about humans."

- In the Gladiator City of Colosenia, gladiators who received praise demonstrated a twenty percent higher victory rate.

"I don’t think it applies to you."

- In the mining city of Ophiles, miners who received praise achieved productivity that was twelve percent higher.

As if completely rejecting Ferda’s opinion, Mori presented fact after fact.

It was strange.

Mori was a Slave Sage devoid of an ego.

She was the ultimate rational being, incapable of emotion.

Why would something like praise matter to her?

Ferda decided not to argue any further.

Rather than wasting time on such a pointless debate, saying three short syllables would be faster.

"Thank you."

That should be enough.

Immediately, Mori’s pen rapidly scribbled across the page.

- According to research, when an adult man praises a child, patting the child’s head is especially effective.

What a hassle.

Even so, Ferda placed his hand atop her head as she had requested.

Her hair felt remarkably smooth.

"Thank you."

The praise was given in an absent-minded tone.

Yet as Mori looked up at him, a strange light appeared in her eyes.

The girl whose head had hung limply only moments ago straightened back to normal.

"Is that enough?"

After hearing him, Mori silently nodded before turning away.

I wonder if that really did the trick.

Putting the journal aside, Ferda opened a box.

"This is where they kept the drugs."

Inside the box were eleven ampoules.

Three Doppler reagents, along with eight ampoules labeled with the names of various Knight-class members of the Demon Race, each bearing the designation (Prototype).

All of them contained the same black, viscous liquid.

Without their labels, it would have been impossible to tell them apart.

’Including the Bouncer drug, that makes twelve.’

Ferda recalled the man who had transformed into a Bouncer.

Bouncers sacrificed intelligence in exchange for overwhelming strength.

His intelligence had unquestionably declined.

His strength had unquestionably increased.

’If the same situation happens again, the next one will be even stronger than that man.’

The only reason they had managed to win was because the drug was still merely a prototype.

The completed version would reduce the side effects while increasing its power.

’That woman undoubtedly escaped alive.’

Before Director Linne could make her next move, Ferda needed to act first.

Ferda possessed the samples.

Director Linne possessed the knowledge.

The starting line favored him, but no one could predict who would ultimately emerge victorious.

’Who should I assign to research this substance?’

That was where the real obstacle began.

Ferda mentally reviewed the capable people around him.

Vernel?

He was certainly intelligent, but his expertise lay entirely in Magitech Engineering.

He needed to stay focused on that.

Then Echidna?

She excelled with runes, but Ferda had no desire to involve her with this kind of substance.

President Bernard?

He still had no idea what that man was truly thinking.

For now, he couldn’t be trusted.

’Then... should I do it myself?’

Ferda had considerable experience conducting research himself.

Although it had mostly been limited to Mana Cultivation Methods and manipulating mana forms for the sake of becoming stronger, his persistence was second to none.

If he applied that same determination to research...

Perhaps it would work.

Just as Ferda was deep in thought—

Dong! Dong! Dong!

A warning bell echoed throughout the fortress.

It was a sound he had never once heard before.

How unusual.

The warning bell was ringing at the headquarters of the Red Dragon, the base of Grand Duchess Valdrova.

Moments later, the door burst open.

Luri rushed inside.

Her face was filled with unmistakable urgency.

"Lord Ferda."

"What is it?"

"They’re coming."

Luri repeated herself.

"The descendants of Silverwind are heading this way."

So... they’ve finally come.

Ferda walked out onto the balcony.

Tiny figures were visible in the sky.

Soon, even Ferda’s eyesight could clearly make out their distinguishing features.

The first thing that caught his eye was the enormous pair of wings leading the formation.

"That must be their leader."

"Yes. That is Lord Goz."

The fact that the commander himself had come meant this was no ordinary matter.

Whatever the reason, they had to prepare themselves.

"What should we do?"

Fear was evident in Luri’s voice.

She was usually good at hiding it, but this time her anxiety was unmistakable.

"For now, we wait."

"Even though the enemy is approaching?"

"We’ll know soon enough whether they’re enemies or not."

Ferda fixed his gaze on the figures drawing closer.

His clenched fist was soaked with sweat before he even realized it.

’Sitri.’

Did that bitch of a demon stab me in the back?

She could have subtly twisted the information, making it seem as though everything was Ferda’s fault.

But he refused to jump to conclusions.

Even demons valued their own lives.

The demons who had crossed into this world behaved recklessly, but in truth, demons were even more cowardly than humans.

A moment later, the result of Ferda’s judgment became clear.

Every one of Silverwind’s descendants landed before the outer gate and lined up in formation.

"That’s good news."

"The fact that they’re standing outside the outer gate is good news?"

"If they had come to fight, they would’ve charged straight toward the balcony. If they’d come looking for trouble, they’d have stopped at the inner gate."

Looking down from the balcony, Ferda’s eyes met Goz’s.

A strange exchange of glances passed silently between them.

"Luri, prepare to receive our guests... Hmm?"

As Ferda turned his head, his words trailed off.

Luri was staring down at the Silverwind group.

If she had merely been looking at them, Ferda wouldn’t have reacted.

"Luri?"

"Did you call for me?"

"Why are you holding onto my clothes?"

"W-What do you mean—"

Luri suddenly stopped speaking.

Just as Ferda had said, she was gripping his sleeve.

Even she looked startled by it.

She quickly withdrew her hand and awkwardly tried to brush it off.

"...There was some dust on it."

"Was there?"

There was no way dust had gotten onto Ferda’s clothes.

And even if there had been, Luri would never have brushed it off herself.

"I’ll go prepare to receive our guests."

With that, Luri quietly withdrew.

Ferda also headed downstairs to welcome Silverwind.

***

The alarm bell rang.

All the non-combat personnel inside the castle retreated into their rooms to hide, while the combat personnel took up their assigned positions.

There were only two combatants inside Castle Valdrova.

Zed and Malcolm.

As Knights, they were stationed in front of the outer gate.

’Damn it... what the hell kind of screwed-up situation is this?’

Zed cursed inwardly as he swept his gaze over them once again.

They looked exactly like the Silver Dragon Spawn one would see illustrated in a textbook.

Silver hair.

Silver eyes.

Ferocious faces crowned with sharp horns.

Although they wore armor, their bulging muscles looked ready to burst right through it.

Facing even one of them would have been enough to make anyone tense.

Yet they had arrived in an entire group.

The ring that suppressed Dragon Fear could do nothing against their overwhelming numbers or their intimidating appearance.

’Especially that guy.’

The man standing at the very front with the soldiers behind him.

One glance at his silver cloak was enough to identify him as the commander.

It wouldn’t have been an exaggeration to say that he alone accounted for eighty percent of the pressure filling the battlefield.

That was how terrifying the aura surrounding him was.

"Your master..."

He finally spoke.

"When will he appear?"

The words that emerged from his mouth carried a deathly chill, like the soul of someone who had slaughtered thousands of frost giants.

His deep voice nearly overwhelmed Zed, but he forced himself to answer calmly.

"Would you mind waiting just a little longer? He said he’d be down shortly."

"A little longer..."

His expression clearly showed his displeasure.

Even knowing that the hatred wasn’t directed at them didn’t make the pressure any easier to endure.

But Zed had another problem to deal with.

"Sniff... Hic..."

Despite calling himself a Knight, Malcolm was standing beside him quietly sobbing.

"O Almighty God of Light, Alte... please save me."

Not only was he crying, he was praying to his god as well.

Zed leaned his head slightly toward him and muttered,

"Just go."

"Sniff... As a Knight of this Grand Duchess’s territory... I cannot abandon my post..."

"No, I’m telling you to leave because you’re getting in my way. I can handle this alone."

Despite Zed’s suggestion, Malcolm refused to move.

His precious code of chivalry must have meant everything to him.

Even though his legs were trembling violently, he stubbornly forced himself to stand straight.

’Damn... my life sucks.’

Every time things finally seemed to calm down, something like this came along and smashed him over the back of the head.

Maybe he should quit being a Knight altogether.

Just as that thought crossed his mind, he heard footsteps behind them.

The footsteps of salvation.

"I’ve kept you waiting."

Ferda had arrived.

Stepping between Zed and Malcolm, he looked directly at Goz.

"So... you make your guests wait?"

Goz’s tone carried a subtle rebuke.

"Normally, guests send a letter before they arrive. Otherwise, they’re simply called uninvited visitors."

An intense battle of nerves unfolded.

Malcolm and Zed, who had thought everything was already over, realized this was merely the beginning.

"I’ll concede that point. I apologize for not notifying you beforehand."

Goz accepted it surprisingly easily.

Ferda narrowed his eyes.

’This isn’t like him.’

"But since I have apologized, you will also have to answer something clearly."

As expected.

Whenever someone took one step back...it was only to advance three more.

"Ferda the Regent, allegations have been raised that you borrowed the power of demon magic to murder Abel Silverwind and conceal the evidence. That is why I have come."

The moment he heard the words allegations have been raised, a name immediately surfaced in Ferda’s mind.

’Sitri?’

His instincts screamed the name once more.

She was still the most likely suspect.

It was simply in a demon’s nature not to let things end neatly.

Ferda continued wondering what kind of trap she was trying to spring on him.

Yet, to his surprise, he soon realized Sitri hadn’t been trying to sabotage him at all.

The reason became obvious almost immediately.

"Hello, Regent Ferda."

Among the crowd of sweat-soaked, intimidating men came a bright, cheerful voice.

A petite woman wearing a wide-brimmed mage’s hat stepped forward.

Emblazoned prominently upon the pointed hat was the emblem of the Cerdes Human Magic Association.

There was only one person who could wear such a hat.

Erdes Roton, President of the Cerdes Human Magic Association.

"We’ve met before, haven’t we?"

So she’s the one who orchestrated all of this.