MTDIK 07

Chapter 7

“I’m Curious Too.”

Ferda, sitting in the guest room and studying, looked up with a puzzled expression.

“Meet the lords?”

“Yes.”

But Ruri nodded firmly.

“Do you know why our master is called Valdrova the ‘Duke King’?”

“I know. She killed the Black Dragon, Godwin, and was granted the title by the Arken Empire.”

The Black Dragon, Godwin. The Aspect of Darkness, the source of all evil. He was pure malevolence itself, a being who had sown chaos across the continent and even contributed to the birth of the Demon King. The one who ultimately put an end to him was none other than the Red Dragon, Valdrova.

“She earned the title of Duke King and was given dominion over territories in the Far Eastern frontlines.”

“That’s correct. You’re quite knowledgeable, aren’t you? Do you happen to know how many territories fall under Valdrova’s domain?”

“Fifteen, right? And if you include the outlying villages, it’s 108.”

“…What’s the total population?”

“It’s around 5,256,532 people. Though I wouldn’t know the exact count with births and deaths factored in.”

Hearing his response, Ruri frowned openly.

“You seem to know a lot for someone who claims to have no interest in power.”

Her words carried a faint trace of Dragon Fear, mixed with disdain.

Ferda merely shrugged.

“It’d be embarrassing for a future partner not to know anything about their spouse’s work, wouldn’t it?”

“Convenient excuse.”

Of course, Ruri didn’t believe him. Her earlier suspicions about Ferda were now tilting firmly toward certainty.

And in truth, Ferda hadn’t studied for such noble reasons either.

‘I was just bored.’

After breaking through his circle, he had too much free time on his hands. When he’d been struggling to achieve his breakthrough, even a whole day hadn’t been enough. But now? He had nothing but time.

He didn’t need to study further about what he already knew, so he’d decided to pass the time by reading up on Valdrova and her story.

“Well, regardless, wouldn’t it be good to meet them?”

“I’m not interested. If it’s not absolutely necessary, I’d rather not go.”

“Even if you’re not interested, once you marry our master, you’ll officially become her spouse. If our master handles external affairs, the spouse must manage the internal matters.”

“So I’d become the lady of the house.”

“Yes.”

A man as the lady of the house? In noble society, that was practically an admission of incompetence—a humiliating position for a man to take.

‘But there’s nothing humiliating about it…’

Not when the partner in question was Valdrova, the so-called Tyrant. Given that she was a being of another class entirely, there was no way Ferda could stand on equal footing with her right now. But to become her partner and manage her household? That alone was already an extraordinary feat.

‘Managing the lords, huh…’

Ferda thought it over and eventually gave his answer.

“Fine. I’ll meet them.”

“Then I’ll arrange for a gathering.”

Ruri gave a polite bow and left.

Ferda, ever sharp, noticed the peculiar look in her eyes. He had long since realized what she was thinking.

‘She doesn’t trust me.’

It was only natural. Even good people, when faced with power, often feel tempted to grasp it. And once someone grabs hold of power, they’ll do anything to keep it. That’s human nature.

‘Still, I’m curious too.’

Ferda didn’t just doubt Ruri—he also had questions about himself. What kind of choices would he make now that he wasn’t consumed by revenge?

So, he decided to play along. To see what choices he’d make in the situation she was about to set up for him.

“Alright. I’ll meet them.”

There was an old joke about nobles in the Serdes Continent: The farther out you go, the more fat the nobles lose.

Central nobles were often bloated and overweight, while frontier nobles were lean and fit. The reason? Frontier nobles were always on edge, ready for monsters to attack at any moment. They couldn’t afford to let themselves go.

But the lords of the Far Eastern frontlines defied that stereotype entirely.

“Lord Bosch! It looks like you’ve put on quite a bit of belly fat!”

“Haha! I’ve been so stressed lately that I can’t stop eating and drinking. What else can I do?”

The heads of the Far Eastern Lords’ Alliance had gathered in one place. Fifteen lords, all shaking their double chins, laughed and joked. It had been a long time since they’d all been in one room together.

“So, what’s the reason for this sudden meeting? Things have been quiet lately—what could possibly need our attention now?”

“Don’t you know anything about current events? Recently, the Duke King took a fiancé. We’ve been called here to meet him.”

“A fiancé?”

One of the lords who hadn’t heard the news looked shocked.

“Who in their right mind would agree to marry the Duke King?”

“That’s what I’m saying. No sane person would enter into that kind of engagement…”

“Did they dig up some idiot from the bottom of the barrel?”

The room was filled with curiosity about the poor fool who’d agreed to this.

“I hear the fool is the third son of the Rosnova family.”

“The Rosnova family? Isn’t that the house of the Arken Empire’s Guardian Knights? I thought all their descendants were extraordinary…”

“Apparently, this third son isn’t. From what I hear, he’s weaker than a common soldier. Even his father kicked him out.”

“If he’s weaker than a soldier, then he’s a complete failure, isn’t he?”

“Hah! A failure, and now we’re wasting our time meeting him…”

“And on top of that, he’s late. Typical.”

The elderly Lords grumbled, clearly annoyed. The idea of a boy barely past his teens acting important made their blood boil.

“What are we supposed to say?”

“If he’s to be the Duke King’s consort, he’ll have a title, won’t he? How do we handle that?”

The oldest lord in the room answered with a scoff.

“He’s doomed to be shredded by Valdrova anyway. Why should we bow to him?”

“Exactly.”

“Why bother showing him any respect?”

The group nodded in agreement, creating a tense atmosphere.

“Lord Ferda Rosnova is entering!”

Hearing the announcement, the lords straightened their clothes and put on serious, formal expressions. They were lords, after all, responsible for the residents of the frontlines. Their plan was to crush this newcomer’s confidence right from the start.

The doors to the council chamber opened.

Silver hair and blue eyes.

He wore a red ceremonial robe trimmed with gold, bearing Valdrova’s insignia—a fitting outfit for the Duke King’s future spouse.

This much was expected.

What wasn’t expected was the aura Ferda exuded.

‘They said he was a failure.’

‘But he looks sharp and dignified.’

He wasn’t weak, at least not by common standards. And while he lacked the physical build of a warrior’s household, his movements carried poise and refinement.

What stood out most of all, however, was his gaze.

It wasn’t the cocky, rebellious look of a young upstart. His eyes were like a calm, bottomless lake, holding a depth that felt far beyond his years.

The lords, despite themselves, tensed up.

Ferda opened his mouth to speak. His voice, just on the edge of adulthood, carried a weight and resonance that felt like it belonged to someone much older.

“Soon, I will officially become the consort of Valdrova, the Duke King.”

He clasped his hands behind his back, his piercing blue eyes sweeping over the lords one by one.

It was an audaciously rude gesture, but no one dared to say a word.

Or rather, they couldn’t.

‘How can such a young man have eyes like that?’

‘Who the hell is this guy!?’

The lords felt like they were staring down a predator. No one could muster a response. They were completely overwhelmed by Ferda’s gaze.

It was only after facing the situation head-on that they realized something crucial: The so-called idiot marrying Valdrova wasn’t a failure after all.

30 minutes earlier

Ferda arrived at the Far Eastern Lords’ Assembly Hall. Since this was an official visit, he’d traveled there in a carriage.

Checking his watch, Ferda frowned.

“I’m quite late.”

Ferda was strict about punctuality. Even being a minute late annoyed him. Being ten minutes late? That was practically a crime in his book.

But the person responsible for the delay, Ruri, answered matter-of-factly.

“You’re missing the point. Being ten minutes late is standard for establishing dominance.”

“Is that really necessary?”

“It’s basic protocol for dragons. The most crucial moment for setting hierarchy.”

“Even if I don’t care about hierarchy?”

“Don’t forget who you’re about to marry.”

The future consort of Valdrova.

Hearing that, Ferda instinctively repeated the words in his mind.

Ruri walked a step behind him as they followed the red carpet.

As they walked, Ferda suddenly wondered something.

‘If I become Valdrova’s consort, where exactly do I stand in the hierarchy?’

The noble world was complicated. In the central regions, rank was determined by titles and duties. But in the outskirts, it was more about power—those who had served the longest or wielded the sharpest sword commanded the most respect.

‘Technically, as her consort, I’d rank as high as a king, but that alone won’t cut it…’

Currently, Ferda is just 18 years old. To the Lords, he’d look like nothing more than a young, inexperienced boy. If he suddenly started acting like a king, it was obvious they’d rebel against him.

As he thought about this, they arrived at the entrance to the council chamber. Inside, 15 seats were arranged in a circle. The seat directly in line with the entrance was empty—that was Valdrova’s seat. Which meant it was meant for him.

But instead of heading straight to the seat, Ferda stopped in the center of the room. Standing tall, he slowly looked around at the gathered lords, meeting each of their eyes.

“Let me ask you something. Soon, I’ll be the consort of Valdrova, the Duke King.”

It was an honest, straightforward question.

“Should I treat you with respect, or should I look down on you?”

As Ferda scanned the room, locking eyes with each lord, he seemed to be gauging where he stood. The lords stared down at him with tense expressions, hesitant to answer.

Ferda scratched his head.

“Hmm. Was that a hard question?”

“N-no, not at all…”

“It’s just that…”

The reason they hesitated was simple. Whatever answer they gave—whether he should show respect or not—would set the tone for their relationship. None of them had expected this kid to start asserting dominance right off the bat.

The oldest of the lords finally spoke up.

“We are lords who serve under Valdrova’s light. It is only right that we treat her consort with respect.”

“Is that so?”

“But…”

He paused, choosing his words carefully.

“All the lords here have devoted themselves to the nation and its people. It would also be proper for you to show us the same respect.”

It sounded like an answer, but it was really just deflecting the question back at Ferda. Essentially, it depended on what he chose to do.

Ferda smirked slightly and asked, “What’s your name?”

“Ulbera Consillus.”

“Got it. Count Consillus, right? Is that how I should address you?”

“That’s correct.”

The old lord nodded with a faint smile.

“Alright then.”

“Pardon?”

“So, should I treat you with respect or not? You still haven’t answered my question.”

Ferda narrowed his eyes as he stared at the old man.

“It would be right to look down on us.”

“I see. That clears it up. Count Consillus, if I had shown you respect, it would’ve made everyone uncomfortable, wouldn’t it?”

“Y-you saying this now is… perfectly fine.”

Ferda had never dabbled in politics, but he understood enough to know what had just happened. He had completely dominated the room.

‘I didn’t mean to force them into submission, though.’

Feeling the need to clarify, Ferda spoke again.

“Don’t worry. Just because I’ll be Valdrova’s consort doesn’t mean much will change. I’m not particularly interested in what you all do. So whether you exploit your people or show them mercy, that’s entirely up to you.”

“Exploitation? How can you say such a thing?”

A man in his mid-20s with a fierce expression, shot up from his seat. He looked relatively young compared to the others and wore a mage’s insignia on his chest.

Ferda immediately realized he’d made a misstep.

‘Ah, I shouldn’t have phrased it like that.’

“I meant no harm. My words just came out that way.”

“You look awfully smug for someone who’s only here because you’re marrying the Duke King! Show some respect, you young upstart! As a mage, if you stood before me, you should be bowing your head!”

“What!”

“H-how dare you speak like that!”

The older, fatter lords began sweating profusely as they tried to calm him down. The tension in the room was palpable, like a candle flame hovering near a fuse.

“Hmmm…”

Ferda wasn’t particularly upset by the man’s outburst.

‘Can I beat this guy?’

Now that he was awakened as a mage, Ferda could see mana with his own eyes. The mana emanating from the man—who had introduced himself as Tesalos—was considerable.

Ferda tapped his temple with his finger, deep in thought, before speaking.

“What’s your name?”

“I am Tesalos of the Welcher family!”

Ferda repeated the name to himself. Tesalos Welcher… It rang a bell, but he couldn’t place it. It didn’t seem important right now, so he let it go.

“What circle have you reached?”

“I am a 4th-circle mage. I can wield 4th-tier magic.”

“Hmm, decent enough.”

“…Decent?”

Tesalos looked utterly dumbfounded. A 4-circle mage was rare and highly respected wherever they went.

‘Should I just kill this guy, consort or not?’

Tesalos could feel his blood boiling. If it weren’t for Ferda’s connection to Valdrova, he would’ve already cursed him out and blasted him with magic.

“You’re interesting. Mind if I ask you a favor?”

“You dare ask me for something after showing such disrespect?!”

Tesalos’s face turned red with anger, and Ferda simply nodded.

“I want you to duel me.”

The training was over. Now it was time to test himself in real combat.