Chapter 77

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 77
Chapter Title: Strange Tidings from the Border
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#77

The mouth that had been about to unleash a torrent of condemnation fell silent, opening and closing like a fish out of water.

Is-is-is that guy crazy? He's so damn annoying. Someone get him away from her.

His simple mind could only produce simple sentences. Geronimo squeezed his eyes shut, trying to choose his words.

Of all people for the brilliant, affectionate, and sensible Cocoche to be with... Atlind Kill.

That gloomy, one-eyed bookworm.

The sight of a man with such a drab appearance and personality—but smarter than him—clinging to the girl he liked made his blood boil. Geronimo opened his eyes again, his face a mask of irritation.

“Do you have any idea how naive Cocoche is? What are you going to do if she falls for him head over heels because he's being so pushy!”

“You’re the only one making such a misunderstanding… If you like her that much, you should have just confessed already instead of whining about it.”

“Y-You think it's that easy? If confessing were so simple, I would've done it a long time ago…!”

Struck by the piercing remark, Geronimo stammered, unable to form a proper sentence. Lucy called a maid to prepare teacups, then personally poured tea into an empty cup and offered it to him.

“I was wondering what brought you all the way here. So it was about Cocoche. They’re both struggling with interpreting an ancient language, so don’t get the wrong idea. Do you know what happens when you put two people interested in a similar field together?”

“They get all buddy-buddy, of course!”

“They’re too busy fighting over whose theory is correct. I swear, you’re such an idiot for not even knowing that… Anyway, stop with the pointless assumptions and just drink your tea.”

Geronimo, who had been puffing up his shoulders, debated whether to get angry at being called an idiot or to simply obey her and drink the tea. He chose the latter. He knew that if he got mad, the Arsinoe he knew would just snort at him with that world-weary expression of hers.

With a disgruntled look, Geronimo reached for the teacup. In stark contrast to his boisterous entrance, he drank the tea with polite decorum.

He might be a blockhead, but it seems the Marquess was strict with his heir’s education, Lucy thought as she unceremoniously tossed a cookie from the plate into her mouth.

“You think I came all the way to the palace just because of Cocoche? I’m not that stupid. I came today because.”

“You are that stupid. You’re the first idiot I’ve ever met who can’t tell the difference between a camel cricket and a regular cricket. Even if you were raised like a prince in a marquess’s house, how could you possibly…”

“You’re the weird one! Why does a princess even know about things like that!”

‘And she’s supposed to be a king,’ Geronimo muttered inwardly, biting his lip and composing himself.

“Never mind the camel crickets. I came to tell you that something strange is going on in my marquessate. You told me to report immediately if anything unusual happened near the border.”

At the word ‘border,’ Lucy’s eyes widened.

The Ras Marquessate, where Geronimo was the heir, was located in the southwesternmost part of the kingdom, its territory bordering Piloim, where Antevasila’s refrigerant stone mines were located.

She had instructed all the lords with lands near the border to report any irregularities at once, but she had specifically told Geronimo to be extra vigilant.

“Why? What is it?”

“I’m not certain, but… if you go up the volcano on the coast, you can see the refrigerant stone mines clearly. Lately, I’ve been seeing Imperial and Dopein forces coming and going near the mines.”

“At the mines?”

“Yeah. They’ve pulled out all the miners and are moving about in full armor. Something’s definitely off. I thought they were after the refrigerant stone, but apparently, no minerals are coming out, only soldiers going in and out.”

“Soldiers…?”

Strange.

They removed all the miners from the refrigerant stone mines, where it takes dozens of men working day and night to extract a single palm-sized stone?

And why soldiers?

As questions continued to surface one after another, Geronimo’s low voice continued.

“On top of that, it seems the soldiers don’t get along. A while back, there was a sword fight at the base of the mines, and some Dopein soldiers fled all the way to our border. They even ran into some of our private soldiers. We considered capturing them, but they got away too quickly, so I don’t have the details.”

They don’t get along…?

Had they turned their backs on each other overnight after having been implicit allies? Suddenly, Alex’s words from the coronation ceremony flashed through her mind.

“After this war, the Empire will no longer join hands with Dopein. The Grand Duke of Dopein was never close enough to me to maintain a long-term alliance, nor is he foolish enough to simply obey my commands.”

She had thought his words about not joining hands meant dissolving their cooperative relationship, but she hadn’t expected things to turn sour so abruptly.

“Did their relationship deteriorate because they’re fighting over the refrigerant stone mines?”

No, refrigerant stone isn’t an easy mineral to extract. Isn’t it a bit premature to be fighting over the mines already?

It would be better to leave the miners be and negotiate the distribution of the minerals. If they’re resorting to military force, then… are they fighting over ownership of the mines?

Why?

Refrigerant stone isn’t a particularly useful mineral to anyone but the Raphi.

Of course, its rarity and unique properties make it more precious than most gems, but the yield is so small that it’s questionable whether it’s worth deploying troops to seize.

It’s not as if having refrigerant stone allows them to command Raphi soldiers either…

The Raphi of the 8th Squad, whom Lucy commanded as if they were her own limbs, had originally come south for Walter.

To be precise, they were elite personnel specially selected to assist Whees, who was loyal to Walter, unlike other Raphi who only came south briefly during the winter.

The point is, simply possessing refrigerant stone doesn’t grant one control over Raphi forces.

So why would they fight over the refrigerant stone mines?

Is it simply for the profits from the mines, or is it a matter of pride…?

“I just can’t figure it out.”

The more she pondered, the deeper into a labyrinth she seemed to fall.

She had several hypotheses, but there was still too little information. As Lucy pinched the bridge of her nose, lost in thought, Geronimo’s voice reached her ears.

“We’ll have to wait and see for now, but there are more than a few suspicious things going on, so I thought you should know. What do you think? If it’s bothering you, should I look into it more closely?”

Geronimo set down his teacup and spoke with an uncharacteristically serious expression. Lucy set aside her worries and nodded.

“I’ll send one of the Raphi to you. Keep a closer watch. Let me know immediately if anything else seems out of place.”

⚜ ⚜ ⚜

At the edge of the mountain range, a single dot floating in the sky slowly descended upon the mountain.

The setting sun in the west cast a yellow glow over the world. A streak that had been circling the mountain descended as if to punctuate the sunset, emitting a burning red light.

The dot grew larger as it descended to the mountainside, soon revealing its presence with a colossal body and flames.

The Fire Dragon, Hertamriologos.

Incarnation. Annihilator. The Primordial Flame. He Who Awaits the Dawn.

It had many names over the ages, but most people simply called it the Fire Dragon.

Its origins and identity were all shrouded in mystery, and befitting its majesty, the creature possessed the form of a dragon as massive as a mountain.

Its body, hotter than the most scorching lava, forbade any from approaching. Flames shaped like fins burned ceaselessly around its massive, straight form, heating the air. A red horn, like a ruby roughly hewn from rock, adorned the tip of its enormous head, exuding an overwhelming presence.

The Fire Dragon, descending along the mountain range, swept past the cliff next to the Grand Duke’s castle at a slow pace, as it always did. At the sight of the dragon’s procession, which always followed the same cycle and the same path, the soldiers guarding the castle walls craned their necks toward the cliff, their faces a mixture of delight and awe.

A creature that existed on the very boundary between reality and unreality, it was both Dopein’s greatest concern and its greatest pride.

Unlike the soldiers, who were lost in wonder and uttering praise, the Grand Duke, who was observing it from inside the castle, clicked his tongue and harshly shut the window.

“The novelty wears off after a day or two… Tsk. It’s just hot and utterly useless.”

Dopein was already known as a land of scorching heat, and every time that damned dragon passed by, a wave of heat washed over the entire castle, making it a most unwelcome presence.

Flicking his neatly pressed loincloth to the side, the Grand Duke sat down in his chair with an irritable motion.

Nejep Ronmoge Bayen.

Nejep, known as the Grand Duke of Dopein, was famous for three things.

One was his bold personality, befitting his title as the Master of the Fire Dragon.

Another was his ruddy complexion, which made him look like a middle-aged man despite his advanced years.

And the last was the fact that he was a fiercely devoted husband, a trait that seemed at odds with his personality.

Nejep, who had been staring down at the documents on his desk with a displeased expression, shoved them to one side with a look of clear annoyance.

Each time he moved, the klaft on his head made a soft rustling sound. For a man on the cusp of sixty, his physique was remarkably robust, his muscles straining against the thin fabric.

His magnificent appearance, adorned all over with gold and jewels, was as stern as ever, but the fine wrinkles creasing his brow and the corners of his eyes betrayed his deep-seated worries.

Nejep glanced at the pile of documents and let out another long sigh.

“Your Excellency. Why do you sigh so deeply?”

A sweet, alluring voice drifted from beyond the shadowed doorway. Soon, a slender woman emerged from the darkness and approached Nejep.

“Grand Duchess.”

“When Your Excellency suffers, my heart aches as well. What troubles you so?”

The Grand Duchess of Dopein, Narkehatra, naturally perched on Nejep’s thigh and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Her fiery red hair, like the blazing sun itself, her alluringly bright red eyes, and her curvaceous body draped in a long, white shesmu skirt exuded a sensual charm so potent it was mouth-watering to behold.

At the sight of her beauty, Nejep felt the tight knot of his worries begin to loosen.

Her beauty had played the largest role in his decision to take her—a woman from a western nomadic tribe, and a former prostitute at that—as his wife.