Chapter 30
Medo seemed to have something on his mind, but he told himself it couldn’t be what he was thinking.
“Fourth place, Your Majesty?”
“Yes.”
But Barbary’s answer was far too clear. Medo felt he had to confirm it just in case.
“Y-Your Majesty, wasn’t I ranked fourth?”
Medo wanted to believe Barbary had simply made a mistake. But she looked at him with a puzzled expression.
“You refused when I offered you the fourth seat, remember?”
“Well, yes, but still…”
Medo’s eyes wavered in confusion. Back then, he’d only declined because he didn’t know what the future would hold.
But now—he was serving as captain of the knights, wasn’t he? He’d assumed it was tacitly understood that he was fourth.
“Then… what position do I hold right now?”
“You? You’re just hanging around Sharon. No rank.”
Medo’s face twisted, his mouth working soundlessly. Then suddenly, like a dam bursting, his resentment poured out.
“Your Majesty! I am the Captain of Your Majesty’s own order of knights! I even serve as your bodyguard—your personal guard, so to speak. That makes me the Commander of the Royal Guard!”
Barbary folded her arms and looked at him with an amused, crooked smile. The idea that he thought he was obviously fourth was genuinely funny to her.
When was it that he’d said he didn’t want the position?
“Well, if you want to be fourth that badly, I suppose I’ll have to show mercy to your fickle heart.”
The wrinkles on Medo’s forehead and the flared width of his nostrils relaxed back to normal. Barbary, seeing this, teased him.
“Fourth place suits you. Since Sharon feels like a daughter to me, it only makes sense that you be my son-in-law.”
But as soon as she said it, she regretted it—it sounded no different from the kind of lame jokes Medo always made.
“Fourth place… son-in-law!”
Medo’s eyes sparkled as if he’d just realized something profound. His voice brimmed with delight.
“Your Majesty’s wit is as sharp as your swordsmanship!”
Though his admiration was genuine, Barbary felt oddly uncomfortable. Was being praised for her sense of humor by Medo really a good thing?
“Just remember—your rank isn’t set in stone.”
It can change anytime, depending on how you behave.
Barbary warned him. Snapping out of his euphoric daze, Medo straightened up.
“I will do my best to hold the position Your Majesty has granted me—until the day I close my eyes! Both as the fourth, and as your son-in-law!”
Now proudly seated as fourth, Medo eagerly wrote a letter and sent it to Mark Scavie.
Mark arrived in Rhondar far sooner than expected. Even the fastest horse should have taken two or three days, yet he arrived in just one.
Before Medo could even ask how, Mark spoke first.
“What were you thinking, committing something as reckless as treason?”
Barbary saw in his eyes the same look one gives to a child who knows nothing of fear.
“What was I thinking when I committed treason?”
Sitting in the audience chamber, she idly stroked her chin, then raised both hands and smiled faintly.
“I don’t even remember what I was thinking when I was born.”
“People sing songs of your great deeds—of Barbary the Dragon Slayer. You’re a hero of Tiris—no, of the entire Almerian continent!”
Mark sighed, exasperated.
“And now it’s ‘Dragon Rider’ this and ‘Barbarania’ that. Do you truly wish to be a queen?”
“If I weren’t serious, I wouldn’t bother with something this troublesome.”
Barbary spoke confidently—she was always serious when it came to revenge.
“You think you can be a benevolent ruler?”
“No.”
Her answer was so firm that Mark almost found her shameless.
“If anything, I’ll probably be a tyrant.”
Mark raised his hands in mock surrender and exhaled deeply. Then he looked her straight in the eye.
“Barbary. End the evil dragon this time—for good. Then testify that this wasn’t treason. Say it was all a misunderstanding during the suppression of a mercenary rebellion.”
He offered to stand by her side before Gloch if she did.
From the open balcony on the second floor, Medo, who had been listening, felt as though lightning had struck him.
In that instant, his impression of Mark sank to rock bottom. He almost regretted letting him live back in Madni.
“I should’ve killed that bastard back then…”
He was startled to realize he’d spoken his thought aloud.
At some point, Kurr had appeared beside him, glaring down at Mark with clenched teeth and a murderous look.
* * *
Two years earlier, Kurr had often visited the subjugation forces whenever he had time. Partly to scout, but mostly to see Barbary.
“How could anyone fail to recognize her even in human form? I knew at a glance!”
The first time he saw her, a chill had run down his spine and his heart had pounded. It was a primal fear he’d never felt before—not even toward any fully grown dragon.
Yet Barbary hadn’t suspected a thing about his true identity. To her, he was just another new drinking companion.
“If she doesn’t recognize me again tonight, I’ll just tell her myself.”
He muttered under his breath, frustrated, following her scent among the mingled smells.
“You came at the perfect time.”
When Kurr entered her room, Barbary greeted him warmly, completely unaware. She was usually alone at this hour—but that night, a pale-faced man with jet-black hair was with her.
“Speak of the devil! I was just talking about you. This is Kurr, the one I mentioned.”
Barbary introduced him, and the gray-eyed man sized Kurr up from head to toe.
The probing look made Kurr’s hand twitch—he barely stopped himself from striking the man. Barbary went on cheerfully.
“This is my friend, Mark Scavie. He’s suspicious about your true identity.”
Mark’s narrowed eyes widened at her bluntness. He shot her an exasperated glance, then resigned himself and looked back at Kurr.
“Kurr, was it? Which unit are you with? Your name isn’t on Tiris’s official mage roster.”
“Oh, come on. If not Tiris, then Lancaster.”
Barbary, annoyed, picked her ear.
She’s the one who told me to find out who he was, and now she’s acting all nonchalant while some twig accuses me?
Kurr’s brows twitched in irritation.
Do dragons have affiliations? Only weak humans band together like that.
He bit back the words, restraining himself. He’d planned to reveal himself that night, but changed his mind.
He didn’t want their fateful moment spoiled by some meddlesome human.
“I’m a mage from Lancaster,” he said flatly.
“There, see?” Barbary clapped her hands once, satisfied, and pulled out a bottle of liquor.
“Tiris and Lancaster may not get along, but for now we’re allies. Let’s drink to defeating the evil dragon together!”
Mark refused the drink, and Barbary laughed as if used to rejection.
For some reason, she was in especially high spirits that evening.
“He probably thinks I might have poisoned it. Isn’t he funny?”
Kurr didn’t find it funny at all. He disliked that Mark was there, that Barbary was laughing while being suspected.
He hadn’t even known she had other friends.
An unfamiliar, unpleasant jealousy bubbled up inside him. The feeling disturbed him so much that he avoided her for a while.
Then came the news—the slow-moving subjugation force had finally reached near Madni.
“Is she nervous about facing the dragon? Or too stupid to even feel that much?”
Curious, Kurr went to see her again.
Barbary was sitting alone on a rock, staring gloomily at two untouched cups of liquor. She looked anything but carefree.
“So even an idiot gets nervous before fighting a dragon, huh?”
He spoke, and Barbary’s head snapped up. Her face brightened instantly when she saw him.
“I couldn’t find you—I thought you’d left the expedition!”
“You were looking for me? Why?”
She filled a cup to the brim and, looking a little awkward, offered it to him.
“I was lonely and bored without you to drink with.”
Under the radiant moonlight, her eyes seemed completely sincere. Kurr’s chest fluttered strangely.
Her saying she was lonely made him ache—and feel oddly proud.
“What about that distrustful human?”
“Mark doesn’t drink. And all he does is nag—saying as commander I shouldn’t be stealing liquor. No fun at all.”
Barbary sighed.
“I really do like you better.”
The resentment Kurr had felt toward her melted away in an instant. He couldn’t help the twitch of a smile on his lips.
* * *
Mark’s persuasion, however, failed completely.
“Forget it. You should just join me instead. I’ll give you a real position—something better than that tiny little territory of yours.”
Barbary was actually trying to recruit him.
Her suggestion of open rebellion made Mark’s eyes widen. Apparently, he hadn’t received her letter yet—that explained his early arrival.
“That’s not the kind of decision I can make lightly.”
He seemed to seriously be considering it, surprisingly cautious.
Barbary decided to give him time and let him stay at Rhondar Castle. Then she wrote his name down, hoping another vassal might join her.
“S… what comes next again?”
Unable to finish writing “Scavie,” she turned to Kurr for help. One of his eyebrows twitched sharply as he glared at her.
“Your Majesty, after all the lessons I’ve given you, you still can’t remember something so simple?”
“It just slipped my mind for a second.”
She pouted defensively, and Kurr snorted.
“In my opinion, Your Majesty is an idiot.”
Already irritated, Kurr seized the moment to vent everything he’d kept inside.
“Do you even learn anything I teach you?”
“…”
“How many times must I tell you the same thing? Of all my pupils, you’re by far the worst.”
“Ugh, what a pompous jerk.”
Annoyed, Barbary stood up abruptly.
“Where are you going, Your Majesty?”
Kurr’s eyes widened, his anger faltering. Barbary gave him a mocking grin.
“To learn from Mark instead of a sourpuss like you.”
After all, it was Mark who’d taught her how to write both “Barbary” and “Actinus.” He had experience.
Kurr protested immediately.
“You said yourself that he’s boring and nags too much! You said you liked me better—”
“Did I? I don’t remember. Anyway, boring is still better than annoying.”
When she turned to actually leave, Kurr panicked. He jumped up, rushing to grab her arm.
“What? Why?”
She twisted her lips in irritation, trying to shake him off.
Her sudden coldness compared to two years ago cut him deeply. It felt like a hole had opened in his chest, growing wider and emptier by the second.
His hand almost slipped—but he barely managed to catch her sleeve.
“Don’t go to him.”
Kurr gritted his teeth, trying to put strength into a hand that no longer wanted to obey.
