TTDBK12

Chapter 12

Baberi’s eyes shifted between Medo’s face and the hand he held out to her.

“That’s the face of a man with ulterior motives.”

When she said it, Medo chuckled aloud.

“I get that a lot. My looks tend to give people the wrong impression, that’s all.”

Baberi didn’t believe a word.

“Then why suddenly try to recruit me? On what grounds?”

It was a fair question. If she’d shown her true skill, perhaps the offer would have made sense. But earlier, she had been a disaster—so clumsy it made her burn with shame.

If that was what he had judged worthy, then his eye for talent was highly suspect.

“That’s just how I find companions,” Medo explained. “Two years ago, I lost half my people in a dragon hunt. Ever since then, whenever I see someone who looks even a little promising, I reach out.”

“So this is nothing but a ploy to boost your numbers?”

Baberi still eyed him with suspicion. Medo only smiled faintly.

“Your skills aren’t that bad. With some refinement, you’ll improve quickly.”

He had meant it as praise, an acknowledgment of her potential. But Baberi heard only condescension.

“So if you refine me, my skills will grow?”

That meant he ranked her far beneath him. She knew it might be true—yet her pride writhed against it. Her jaw clenched until it hurt.

‘What can a traitor’s daughter know of swordsmanship? At best, she can swing it around.’

She’d heard such words many times before, and never cared. In combat, the truth revealed itself quickly enough. The higher their pride, the sweeter their despair when she shattered it.

But this time was different. She couldn’t prove herself against him. She knew—hated to admit it—that she would lose.

To think she could be beaten by a man she considered beneath notice—what a humiliation.

“I refuse.”

Her words ground between clenched teeth.

“I am a queen.”

Medo blinked. “…What?”

“If you wish to serve under me, I’ll consider it. But the reverse? Never.”

The smile he had worn, so warm in his attempt to recruit her, cracked apart.

“What nonsense is this? Are you insane?”

He had scouted many people, yes. But this time, he had another motive as well.

The Dragon Slayer had placed a bounty and was searching desperately for this woman. Whatever the reason—whether to kill her, or to keep her safe—it was clear she was of enormous significance.

If he had Margaret in hand, she would make an excellent bargaining chip against the Dragon Slayer.

But now she stood here, declaring herself a queen?

“Rejecting me is one thing, but to joke like this—you’ve got guts.”

“A joke? I’m deadly serious.”

She straightened, shoulders square, gaze unwavering. Medo found himself at a loss for words. He blinked several times, rubbed his face with a dry hand, and let out a hollow laugh.

“Ha… A madwoman, then. No wonder the Dragon Slayer is so intent on capturing you.”

So brazenly proclaiming treason—it must have been unbearable for her kin. No, precisely because she was kin, she must have been all the more intolerable.

“Not a madwoman. A queen.”

She jutted out her lip in defiance. Medo was beyond laughter now.

“Then tell me. Of what kingdom are you queen? Do you have land? Subjects?”

Her lips pressed together. She had no answer.

Land? Subjects? She had vowed revenge, dreamed of becoming queen—but possessed nothing.

“What’s wrong? Nothing to say? Don’t tell me you have nothing?”

“……”

“How can someone who has no land, no people, no one to even call her queen—how can that be a queen at all? That’s just a lunatic.”

His voice was sharp, final.

“…I have one subject.”

The words slipped out at last. Medo raised his hands, turned his head, and theatrically scanned around her.

“Where?”

There was no one near. He realized any further talk was a waste.

“Sharon, let’s go.” He pulled at Sharon’s arm. “Forget what I said. I won’t make a rebel my comrade.”

He turned away. Sharon looked back, hesitant, but followed.

Baberi was left standing by the dark riverbank, frozen like a statue. Then, abruptly, she flung her wanted poster to the ground.

The paper fluttered down mockingly.

“Aaaaagh!”

She screamed, kicking at the dirt. She had been made a fool of—and hadn’t been able to answer, to strike back even with words.

“No land, no people—how can you be queen? Of course not. He’s right. I know he’s right.”

The truth stung all the worse because she had admitted it in her heart. Forcing Kur to call her “Your Majesty” meant nothing.

She sank down by the riverbank, burying her head between her knees.

“What must I do to become queen?”

Her plans were in ruins. Even her last scheme—to bring Medo’s head to the slain lord’s son—was pointless. With thirty thousand gold on her own head, betrayal would only follow.

“Kur? He wants me dead as much as Glock did… Where am I supposed to find my people, my subjects?”

Her muttering broke off at the sound of footsteps. She whipped around—only to see Sharon, who should have gone.

The girl startled, gasping.

“What is it?” Baberi’s tone was sharp.

“I… I wanted to ask you something.”

Though cowed, Sharon drew a breath and forced the words out.

“What’s your real name?”

“What would you do with that?” She dismissed her with a glare.

“If you’re really who I think you are… then I have a request.”

“No.”

Baberi stood, dusting herself off. Sharon chased after her in a panic.

“At least hear me out before refusing! Please!”

Baberi only quickened her pace. She had no desire to listen—not from the woman who had stood by while Medo mocked her.

Small and short-legged, Sharon had to half-run to keep up.

“Baberi!”

She stopped cold.

“My real name is Margaret. Margaret Langs—the younger sister.”

A bitter smile curved her lips.

Sharon shook her head. “That’s impossible. The Langs family only ever has one child. That silver-haired man with you isn’t your brother either.”

Baberi turned sharply, eyes narrowing. How did this girl know such a thing?

“My grandmother worked as a maid at Langs Castle before she married. That’s how.”

“…Smarter than your foolish boyfriend, at least.”

While Baberi hesitated, Sharon slipped in front of her, face earnest.

“Knowing who you are, I want to beg you—please protect Medo.”

Baberi’s expression soured. Sharon pressed on, desperate.

“You’re hunted too. If people like us, the hunted, stand together, we can survive. We could even become friends.”

Friends? Baberi nearly laughed aloud. She bit her tongue instead.

“You know what I hate most? Working hard and getting nothing in return.”

“Then I’ll pay you. I’ll give you what you ask.”

“No—what I hate even more is when someone promises a reward, then withholds it.”

She shivered, remembering King Glock. Sharon laid a hand over her heart.

“I swear. Whatever you want, in whatever way you want it—I’ll give it.”

“You rich?”

“Not very.”

“Then what could you possibly offer me?”

Sharon straightened, her voice steady.

“I’ll be yours. I’ll be your subject.”

Baberi’s lips parted slightly. A subject. The very thing she longed for.

“I’m healthy—very healthy.”

Her cheeks flushed as she declared it, her vigor plain. Baberi thought briefly of a certain dragon, pale-faced and dizzy for hours after the slightest strain.

“And besides health? What else do you have?”

“Can you fight?”

“If I could, I’d be guarding Medo myself.”

Of course not. No money, no skill. What was the point of such a subject?

“But I do have one strength.”

“Which is?”

“I bake excellent pies.”

She said it proudly. Baberi almost scoffed—until the memory of Sharon’s divine pies made her throat work in a sudden swallow.

“That, I’ll admit. You bake well.”

Denying it would be lying to her own tongue.

“But do I look like the kind of woman who could be swayed by a pie?”

Her pride was still sky-high.