Chapter 10
Chapter 10: Dragon’s Breath
The appointed month had finally arrived.
With a mere three days remaining before the official engagement ceremony alongside the Archduchess, Ruri pointed toward a clean piece of parchment and a quill, her face clouded with plain irritation.
“Please draft the formal vows to be recited during the rites.”
“Is there not an established traditional text for such occasions?”
“Naturally there is, however…”
Ruri’s throat twitched slightly. She forcefully held back an exasperated sigh that threatened to erupt into a genuine Dragon’s Breath.
“Given that this is an intimate, private proceeding, Her Grace wishes to forgo superfluous formalities.”
“And the result of that?”
“She desires to substitute the conventional oaths with vows composed by your own hands.”
Ferda offered a serene nod upon hearing the explanation. “She possesses quite the romantic spirit.”
“‘Romantic’ is an overly forgiving description. This barely ranks above exchanging vows inside a barn. Composing your own oaths… it resembles children playing make-believe.”
Ruri continued to mutter under her breath. In the end, the deep irritation she had fought to suppress within her chest escaped in an overwhelming rush.
“Haaaaaa….”
It was a Breath. A hollow, desolate exhalation carrying enough weight to plunge straight through the stone floor.
Entering a union with a mortal, conducting a secretive ceremony, and now obligating one another to author personalized vows…
Even for a Dragon Spawn bound by servitude, such grievances were bound to accumulate over time. Ferda could easily comprehend why she was sighing with such despair.
Even so, her devotion is dedicated to Valdrova as an individual, rather than her authority upon the Throne.
Had she prioritized the latter, Ferda would not even be breathing in this room. Ruri possessed more than enough power to orchestrate his assassination or fabricate an elaborate scandal to ruin his name if she truly desired to do so. Yet, Ruri refused to stoop to such vile schemes.
If anything, she has been remarkably accommodating.
He could clearly perceive the conflicting sentiments warring within her. She desperately wished for the prospective marriage to collapse, yet simultaneously held an earnest longing for Valdrova’s ultimate happiness.
Being caught between those contradictory desires is undoubtedly the source of her constant irritation.
It was genuinely regrettable. Ferda chose to cast a brief glance of quiet empathy in her direction.
“What is the meaning behind that expression?”
“I was merely reflecting on how truly pitiful your situation is.”
Ruri’s features contorted at the unprompted pity. “I hardly need to receive sympathy from a mere mortal like you.”
“I remain a temporary guest for the time being, so I will overlook the slight. However, in three days’ time, I will become your lord’s husband. How will our standing be defined then?”
“It will hardly change from what it is right now. I advise you not to indulge in the fantasy that you will be ordering me around.”
“Naturally not. That was not the intent behind my inquiry.”
“However, should you ever request that I strike you, I will gladly fulfill it without the slightest hesitation.”
“I shall decline that offer.”
“There is no cause for concern. I possess absolute confidence in my martial prowess. My physical restraint is flawless.”
“Did you not hear me? I said there is no need.”
Ruri raised her small, pristine fist. That very same delicate fist had previously obliterated a solid bed frame and pulverized the masonry beneath it. He had no desire to entertain such violence, even in jest.
“Regardless, once the engagement is finalized, you must recruit attendants to staff the stronghold. You will likewise be required to designate governors to oversee the provincial administration.”
“Attendants and administrators? Am I the one tasked with those appointments?”
“Indeed. As the royal consort, you will assume full responsibility for managing the territories subject to the Archduchess of Valdrova, along with handling all accompanying administrative obligations.”
Ferda tilted his head in confusion. “I was under the impression that you harbored disdain for those who covet power. Are you now instructing me to seize it?”
“My disdain is not aimed at mortals who wield authority; I despise those who become utterly blinded by it.”
The 3rd Prince of the Arken Empire had been corrupted by his lust for dominion, and it brought about his ultimate demise.
“Authority ought to rest in the hands of those who harbor no inherent desire for it. Because they do not thirst for greater control, they dedicate themselves to the prosperity of the realm. That is precisely the caliber of leader we require at present.”
Ferda tilted his chin thoughtfully. “Is the state of regional governance truly that dire?”
“If you observed the current behavior of the regional nobility, you would realize it is an utter catastrophe.”
Ferda brought to mind the lords he had previously confronted within the assembly. Their frames were bloated, sluggish, and steeped in decadence. Shivering in terror for their personal survival, they resembled livestock awaiting the butcher’s blade.
“Those who were meant to serve as the cornerstones of the territory spend their hours indulging in gluttony and carousing in pleasure houses. Under the pretext of being stationed on the front lines, they squander wealth, claiming their lives could end at any moment. The escalating resentment among the populace is held back solely by the armed forces guarding the perimeter; one day, it may erupt into a massive uprising.”
“I was unaware. I had no concept that matters had deteriorated to such an extent.”
The public welfare. Hearing those words sparked a lingering question within Ferda’s thoughts.
“Does the Archduchess of Valdrova not desire the happiness of mortals?”
“She certainly does.”
“Then would not the majority of these grievances be rectified if she simply came forward and issued a single decree from her Throne?”
“They would.”
“Then why has she remained entirely silent?”
Ruri’s voice cut off. Her demeanor froze over, and an overwhelming wave of Dragon Fear began to emanate uncontrollably from her small frame. She appeared precisely like an ancient dragon whose sacred Reverse Scale had been disturbed.
“I shall maintain my silence on that subject for the present. You will come to understand the circumstances soon enough.”
Ferda elected to yield the topic. “Understood. Then my sole task is to compose the written oaths?”
“Precisely. Now, permit me to take my leave.”
Ruri offered a rigid, formal bow before turning and exiting through the doorway.
Haaaaaaa.
The heavy resonance of her lingering sigh drifted along the corridor floor, reaching Ferda’s ears. He rested his fingers upon the quill, turning over her statements in his mind.
Vows, is it…
They often declare that taking the opening stride accounts for half the journey, yet Ferda found himself entirely paralyzed at the initial sentence. Perhaps it would have been wiser to solicit precise guidelines regarding the phrasing. It certainly would have streamlined the undertaking.
Should I set this aside for another moment?
Setting the oaths aside for the time being, Ferda chose to draft a series of personal missives instead. He had previously informed the nobility:
—I possess not the slightest interest in your personal affairs.
Yet now, circumstances demanded that he exert far more than passing attention over their conduct. That was the primary complication.
I openly proclaimed my indifference to their actions, so attempting to dictate their governance now will certainly spark pushback.
Ferda was acutely aware that his opening impression had been far from pristine. Because he was effectively reversing his earlier declaration, his standing would only suffer further damage. He had no alternative but to dispatch a formal dispatch to every single lord.
The correspondence clearly outlined his impending oversight of their governance, yet it concluded with a single, pointed clause:
—Should this arrangement displease you, do not bother to reply. I fully intend to honor your wishes.
Every single aristocrat delivered their enthusiastic consent before the sun had even set that very day.
The morning of the engagement rites arrived.
Ferda had thoroughly displayed his capabilities while simultaneously verifying that not a shred of falsehood tainted his declarations. Left with no grounds for dispute, Ruri begrudgingly permitted the ceremony to move forward.
“Your shoulder ornament is crooked. Furthermore, I went through the immense trouble of treating these trousers with starch; how could you crease them so carelessly?”
Instead of outright defiance, she inaugurated the occasion by finding fault with every minute detail.
“I would be immensely relieved if you happened to possess an additional set of hands and eyes to assist me.”
“Why not recruit a personal valet, then?”
“I find your services more than adequate.”
Ruri retreated a pace, swiftly tucking both hands behind her spine.
“I have no desire to lay a finger on you. I function strictly as the steward to the master I serve, so do not harbor unreasonable expectations regarding my duties.”
“Mmm, you truly are an exemplary hound.”
“Are you challenging me to open combat? Simply utter the request. I will gladly grant you a genuine battle whenever you wish.”
“Not at all; I was merely acknowledging your steadfast allegiance.”
Ruri let out a low growl, yet Ferda calmly endured her sharp critiques, correcting each flaw one by one.
The engagement ceremony…
The reality of the event failed to truly settle in. Typically, when a man enters into matrimony, his spirit is swayed by one of two sensations: the jubilation of sacred union, or the sorrow of being bartered away. Ferda experienced neither emotion.
It has remained this way ever since my return to this era.
A tranquil, detached heart, entirely uncharacteristic of one possessing a Red Circle.
Am I entering this union merely out of perceived obligation?
He questioned whether his actions were purely mechanical, driven solely by duty. With his blistering rage and consuming hatred having vanished, Ferda’s remaining sentiments felt equally muted.
Is it acceptable to stand before Valdrova harboring a heart as hollow as this?
A faint thread of unease stirred in a secluded corner of his mind.
Faint unease, is it…
A subtle smile touched Ferda’s lips. The experience of doubt was a fundamentally human trait.
Despite everything, my humanity remains intact.
For the moment, that single realization was sufficient. Ferda chose to anchor his resolve to that lone truth.
The ceremony of engagement was staged directly outside Valdrova’s Lair.
Within the cavernous sanctuary, illuminated by hundreds of burning candle clusters, the sacred rites were arranged to unfold a mere twenty strides away from a colossal iron gateway.
Having finalized the preparations, Ruri stepped forward and rapped upon the heavy metal barrier.
“My Lord, the time has arrived to inaugurate the ceremony.”
Upon her announcement, the immense iron gates swung open with deliberate slowness. A gust of stagnant atmosphere poured from the widening gap, mingling with the exterior air before rushing into Ferda’s lungs.
“Ugh.”
His chest seized up. Even devoid of overt bloodlust like the ravenous beasts he had vanquished, the very atmosphere was saturated with an overwhelming, primordial dread. Had Ferda possessed a lesser resolve, he would have collapsed into unconsciousness right then and there.
Ruri assessed Ferda’s strained condition and stated plainly, “You are required to endure.”
“I… am aware.”
“Then, we shall commence the rites of betrothal.”
Disregarding Ferda’s physical strain, Ruri proceeded with the sacred protocol. Having already reviewed the procedures in advance, Ferda focused entirely on maintaining an upright posture and regulating his labored breathing.
“Mortal and Immortal shall unite as one on this day, binding a golden thread that neither celestial decree nor the erosion of eras can sever.”
Ruri set a ceremonial chalice upon a modest low table before Ferda. Gripping the container with absolute poise, she poured the pristine fluid while reciting the ancestral liturgy.
“The Mortal shall attain unity by venturing forth from ignorance and purging their inherent terror.”
Following the earlier instructions, Ferda lifted the vessel and swallowed the contents. The liquid tasted remarkably crisp and untainted, perfectly matching its immaculate clarity.
I have never possessed a tolerance for spirits.
Ferda had never enjoyed indulging in alcohol, even throughout his later years, making this the very first draft of his entire life. Having drained the initial portion, he emptied the remaining half into the chalice and carried it directly toward the threshold of the iron gate.
“The Immortal shall attain unity by shedding the weariness of boundless eternity.”
The moment had arrived for Valdrova to partake in the union.
Slide.
Emerging from between the towering iron barriers came a massive claw, easily dwarfing Ferda’s entire physical frame. It was the exact same catastrophic instrument that had once rent through armies, now descending with fragile caution toward the vessel containing the sacred draft, and—
Clatter!
It instantly sent the chalice tumbling across the stone.
A suffocating, uncomfortable silence gripped the space. Accompanied by the scraping of metal, the colossal limb withdrew back into the shadows of the portal.
Uncertain if this clumsy mishap was an intentional part of the ancestral customs, Ferda cast a bewildered glance toward Ruri.
“…We shall restart the proceedings from the beginning.”
The entire sequence was literally repeated. The solemn oaths were spoken aloud once more, Ferda consumed his portion first, and the offering was extended toward Valdrova a second time.
Clatter!
The monstrous claw proceeded to topple the delicate vessel of wedding wine an additional three times in succession. Ferda was rapidly reaching the limits of his physical endurance.
I have consumed several servings by now… the alcohol is taking its toll…
His vision began to spin, and he could feel his command over his faculties slipping away. Instinct warned him that he could not withstand another repetition.
Snap.
All at once, a sharp cracking resonance reverberated through the air. One would have been foolish to assume the subterranean cavern was fracturing. If Ferda’s drunken senses served him correctly, the sound had originated directly from Ruri’s own limbs.
“Kindly excuse me for an instant.”
Ruri squeezed her slender frame through the narrow opening between the gates. Just as Ferda prepared to wait patiently, assuming she was retrieving fresh ceremonial supplies—
“What in the world do you believe you are doing, Master?!”
Ruri’s thunderous roar erupted from within the chamber. Every trace of Ferda’s intoxication evaporated on the spot.
“You were the one who demanded a union with a mortal, and you were the one who insisted upon this engagement! And how did I, your devoted attendant Ruri, respond?!”
The torrential Breath she had spent the previous three days fighting to swallow—
“I endured every bit of it!”
—she now unleashed with unrestrained fury.
“I tolerated the fact that this sacred union, which rightfully belonged before the entire realm for an Archduchess, was reduced to a private affair! And I accepted the absurdity of executing an engagement without you ever showing your face!”
Her volume surged higher and higher. He could tell beyond a shadow of a doubt that her wrath burned hotter than anything she had ever displayed.
“Yet you are so utterly terrified of confronting your betrothed that you repeatedly overturn the sacred wine! What kind of pathetic spectacle does that make of your partner standing outside?!”
The sound of heavy, panicked breathing echoed from the shadows, yet Valdrova offered not a single word in defense. Following a long, exhausted exhalation, Ruri’s sharp voice rang out once more.
“Present yourself with proper nobility and acknowledge your fiancé! If that ceremonial cup is toppled a single time more, I will not overlook it!”
Ruri, having vented her burning rage, pushed her way back out through the iron gates. Her expression had already reverted to its immaculate, indifferent mask.
Ferda could do nothing but stare at her in absolute shock.
Gauging the look in Ferda’s eyes, Ruri readily deciphered his thoughts.
“…Did your ears manage to catch that?”
“I suspect the nobility across the distant provinces heard every word.”
“…Hah. Well, what alternative is there?”
Ruri released a protracted, weary breath before admitting, “As you have undoubtedly deduced by now, my Sovereign suffers from severe social anxiety.”
“Social anxiety…?”
“It indicates that she harbors a profound dread of interacting with mortals.”
“Anyone who heard such a claim would take it for a ridiculous jest. A supreme Aspect who preserved the realm, cowering in isolation because she fears common mortals.”
“You have just shared a rather critical revelation.”
“It is a reality you were bound to discover eventually. I cannot conceal her true nature indefinitely merely because it might displease you.”
Her silver irises lowered as she continued.
“She is to become your lifelong companion. Consequently, her frailties will become your frailties as well.”
“You speak of shared liability, then?”
“Is that not the fundamental essence of a matrimonial bond?”
Ferda offered a quiet nod to her perspective. Shared liability within a union. For reasons he could not articulate, the concept felt somewhat grating. He had never once harbored an affection for the notion of ‘shared liability.’
Moments later, the heavy barrier parted once again. He anticipated the return of the colossal beastly claw, yet what crossed his vision was undeniably an anthropomorphic silhouette. Ferda locked his focus onto the being destined to become his bride.
“…What?”
The sheer disbelief forced an involuntary gasp from his lips.
…Full plate armor?
Standing before him was a figure encased in an overwhelming suit of heavy armor. The protective helmet was meticulously forged into the likeness of a draconic skull. Despite its metallic composition, the craftsmanship was so terrifyingly lifelike that one might easily mistake it for a living beast. It presented the exact visage of a dragon walking upon two legs.
While the astonishing intricacy of the metalwork was staggering—
She is towering.
—it was her sheer scale that eclipsed everything else. Ferda was tall by mortal standards, standing at a height of 180 centimeters, yet he was forced to crane his neck skyward just to meet her gaze. The figure had to reach at least 240 centimeters in stature. Even stripped of the thick plate armor, her height would likely measure around 220 centimeters.
I have long heard that a dragon’s mortal guise possesses transcendent beauty.
If that metric of perfection aligned with mortal standards, it implied that a 220-centimeter marvel was concealed beneath that iron shell… Yet could the entity inside actually be male?
“We shall proceed with the concluding rite of the engagement.”
Before his distressing doubts could solidify, Ruri restarted the ceremony. Ferda downed the wedding draft once more, having already consumed three prior measures. His eyelids felt as heavy as stone under the influence of the alcohol.
He braced for the possibility of another clumsy accident, yet Ruri gave no opening for failure. She firmly took hold of the heavy visor and tilted it upward herself, ensuring the fluid could neither be toppled nor wasted.
Beneath that frigid, unyielding metal casing, Ferda finally caught sight of her visage.
And the face of the Red Dragon Valdrova, unveiled before him for the very first time—
“Ah.”
—wrenched an involuntary murmur of pure wonder from his lips.
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