Chapter 3

Several seasons passed, and the year changed twice. Abel’s daily life remained the same, but recently, his master had fallen ill. The cause was an unknown fever, which lingered for several days. Strangely, his master had stopped speaking, often staring vacantly into space. That day, Abel went to the city and returned within a day. He held a handful of medicine for his master, purchased with money from selling dried herbs and mushrooms. As he arrived, he heard the sound of a horse approaching his master’s dwelling. It carried the tone of someone filled with concern. “Well, if there’s anyone who might listen, it’s Duke Truyde, who is my superior. He’s only recently inherited his title, but he has the power and the flexibility to resolve matters. So, if there’s a chance, he might listen, but… sigh, anyone would think such a claim is absurd.” The voice belonged to Melmond, an attendant who served only one master. When his master fell ill, Melmond had sent a letter requesting contact, but he didn’t expect him to arrive so quickly. Like his master, Melmond had undergone training to become a Regas upon joining this faction. However, unlike his master, Melmond had entered the palace early, becoming part of the king’s Regas-appointed staff. The job of the staff was simple—dusting off old books in the palace library, neglected and untouched by others. One faction had claimed he was hired because a single faction couldn't fill all staff positions. According to his master, Melmond applied for the position, hoping for a stable occupation. His true aim, however, was to find a shortcut, as entering the King’s Heart was no easy feat. Perhaps that was why, while others would leave with bruised pride after a few days, Melmond had endured the task for fifteen years. And because of that, his master would occasionally become angry, lamenting that Melmond had entered the palace without proper training. Since his entry into the palace, Melmond had little contact with his master, and Abel only saw him once or twice a year. However, perhaps because they once spent time together, Melmond would often grumble but still send updates about what his master wished to know through letters. “The Regas has been with the prince for a year now. Usually, a regent starts assisting the crown prince with state affairs when they’re around 10 years old, so this is certainly early. Everyone keeps quiet about it, but it seems there’s something wrong with the prince. According to rumors…” The voice lowered, as if to whisper a secret, and then fell silent. Melmond, though an attendant, was still in his mid-30s, unlike his master, who was already 50. Sometimes, his master would joke that Melmond seemed more like a son than an attendant. Hearing his master’s muffled voice, Wiedel, Abel hesitated at the door, unsure whether to enter. “Pathetic fools! What’s so devilish about it? So what if he has snake-like eyes or something?! He was born with the mark of a dragon, so we should celebrate!” “But he hasn’t inherited any abilities.” “How do you know?! Abilities can manifest later!” “But I’ve never heard of such an experience.” “There’s never been a time when the mark of a dragon appeared on someone’s body.” “….” “Sigh, why is everyone so ignorant? The prince could be the one to rebuild the royal family’s crumbling power! Surely, his abilities will soon… cough, cough! Ahem, cough.” When his master’s coughing grew more severe, Abel threw open the door without hesitation and rushed in. “Master!” Melmond raised his hand, signaling Abel to stop as he entered. Despite everything, Abel noticed the smoke thickly spreading inside and took a moment to calm his shocked mind. Melmond was using dry branches from a tree known for curing coughs, trying to help the coughing master, who was slumped halfway on the bed. “Don’t worry. Your master won’t die right away,” Melmond grumbled, turning to Abel as he continued his work. But the master hadn’t finished speaking. Gasping for breath, he grabbed Melmond’s arm, his voice desperate. “Let me meet that duke.” “Ha, that’s not an easy task.” “They’re wrong! I have to wake them up. Come on, cough, cough, from now on, if the prince doesn’t have a proper Regas by his side, later, cough, cough…” Melmond wiped his master’s back with a frown, speaking awkwardly. “No one would believe in the country’s destruction seen in dreams.” The mountains darken quickly, and the air grows colder. Melmond, feeling the weight of his thoughts, sighed. He’d changed so much since he first arrived. After all, it wasn’t surprising. He’d had nothing before, but now he’d grown accustomed to the comfortable life in the capital and found the countryside uncomfortable. His body had grown heavier over the years. Stroking his round belly, Melmond sighed again. The place where the master had been raised, continuing the lineage with only one or two successors, had completely different standards from the King’s Heart when it came to raising Regas. Long ago, when the royal family’s ancient legends began, it was said this place produced more Regas than anywhere else. But over time, they clung stubbornly to old ways, and now only the King’s Heart and this place remained. If only they could use that heritage and compromise with reality. Melmond raised his head, remembering his master, who had left the world long ago. He was just as stubborn as his predecessors. Unlike the King’s Heart, who emphasized appearances to win the king’s favor, teaching dance and magic, his training focused on nature. Melmond had come here as a young man, but all he had learned was plant identification, animal communication, and physical training. But what good was it to know herbs and plants if he didn’t intend to become a pharmacist? Moreover, how was learning to communicate with animals beneficial when he wasn’t even able to communicate with the human king? Every day, Melmond endured unreasonable training, all for the sake of patience and physical strength. When the opportunity arose to enter the palace before his master returned, Melmond left without hesitation. He had been sent from his poor home with hopes of avoiding a life as a beggar in the palace. Once there, he endured all kinds of hardships, never complaining about the countless tasks, as long as it meant he could eat and live well. That’s why he never cared much about things like working as a Regas. It didn’t matter to him what happened to the king. He was content to eat and live this way, whether the king was a devil or the reincarnation of a dragon. Of course, he had heard the short explanation from his master as to why he sent Melmond to the palace, but he never dwelled on it. However, it seemed that the time wasted on training had affected him, as he began to worry about the nobles’ absurd concerns. “Oh, oh, Melmond, you’re here.” The sound of running footsteps grew louder, and Abel, who had grown large in stature, appeared before Melmond. Abel, now in his twenties, looked like a bandit—sunburned and rough, with a build that seemed capable of killing four men at once. Despite the intimidating first impression, he was an innocent man, with eyes so clear that they epitomized innocence. Perhaps Abel didn’t realize that he was the perfect embodiment of the teachings of this place, which stressed the importance of one’s character. But with that appearance… Melmond thought back to the King’s Heart faction and the Regas he had seen there. They were more beautiful than women, with voices that entranced anyone who heard them. Their charm was such that even if the king inherited the cruelty of a dragon, they could tame him. Nothing like this rough-hewn, bandit-like figure standing before him. “I’ve prepared a place for you to sleep.” “Who said I’m going to sleep?” Despite his blunt tone, Abel laughed, knowing this was a recurring exchange. “It’s difficult to go down the mountain tonight, even for the only disciple of the late master.” “Hmph, it must be hard for you. When I was your age, I could easily climb two or three peaks even at night like this.” Abel’s eyes widened in surprise at Melmond’s exaggeration. “Really? So, what my master said about the training I’m doing right now being nothing was true.” “Ha! Of course. Our master’s training was amazing.” “Oh, I always thought there was nothing harder than climbing a cliff barehanded.” “That’s right, a cliff…” Melmond had never climbed a cliff, but his determined expression remained hidden in the darkness, and Abel, still innocent, continued to be amazed. “But the most challenging training was facing wild animals eye to eye. I’m embarrassed to admit that I couldn’t subdue them with just my gaze. I was too busy running away.” “Wild animals?” “Yes. I barely avoided bears, but wolves travel in packs, so I thought I was going to die trying to escape. You must’ve been able to subdue them with just your gaze, right?” Melmond had never even managed to subdue a squirrel with his gaze. “Ah, well. Um, yeah, that’s right.” “Just like our master said, I still have a long way to go. I’m ashamed to admit that I can’t even handle wolf spiders. Those creatures don’t spin webs, they attack like this!” “Hmm.” As Abel continued speaking excitedly, Melmond flinched, though he made no sound. He didn’t realize that Abel had no idea what he was talking about. It was rare to see him so animated, having someone to talk to. “I’m especially afraid of wolf spiders. There have been times when my master purposely caught only wolf spiders and locked them in a small box. But it seems like the training hasn’t had any effect.” That’s torture! Melmond wanted to shout, but he held it in. Was the master trying to kill his only disciple? Looking back at the lit dormitory, Melmond recalled the days when he was training as a Regas. He only learned about plants and animals by wandering through mountains and rocks. It was clear now that his master had known all along. He never intended to make Melmond a true Regas; he only used it as an excuse to enter the palace. He thought that even with just one person in the palace, it would be helpful to accept Melmond. But what could a mere librarian do? Perhaps this was the master’s true intention—to pass on news from the palace like this. Melmond turned his head to meet Abel’s sparkling eyes. “What, what is it?” “Please tell me, Mr. Melmond.” “What should I tell?” “It’s about the palace. The palace is where the person who inherits the power of the dragon and where the king lives. They say that person is majestic and performs amazing magic just by looking at them.” Melmond thought back to the king he had seen from afar—always drunk and stumbling with his Regas by his side. To the people of this country, the king was a god. A living legend. Even if the king failed to govern and starved the people, in the end, there was only resignation after resentment. Since the king inherited the power of the dragon, they had to follow his lead. Currently, the king’s telekinesis could barely lift a pen. Rumors swirled about his addiction to alcohol and pleasure. Yet, the fact that the king lived such a rotten life was kept hidden within the palace. The King’s Heart, who controlled the power, ensured it remained so. They had to protect the king’s hollow reputation to survive. Seeing them tie the ruler to his own Regas, it was clear that the King’s Heart was not a proper Regas faction. “I mean… well, yeah. Do you have any other questions?” When Melmond asked, Abel leaned forward, his eyes shining. “I heard there’s still a magical place left by the dragon in the palace?” “A magical place? Ah, you mean the spring of prayer. It’s in the middle of the Dragon Forest. What’s wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?” Melmond leaned back as Abel moved closer. “If you pray earnestly, it’s said it will allow you to meet the person you desire. Wow, that sounds cool. Have you been there, Mr. Melmond?” “Me…” Of course, Melmond had never been there. The Dragon Forest was a sacred place for the king and his Regas, accessible only to them. Yet for generations, the forest had been covered with dense underbrush because the kings had been too busy indulging in pleasure with their Regas. “Inside, there’s a small spring, and it’s said to have special magic. But there’s no record of prayers being answered. The only record is of the king, heartbroken by the death of his beloved Regas, praying to meet him again before he died.” “The spring of prayer is just a legend. Don’t dwell on it, focus on your training. By the way, have you heard what your master saw in his dream?” Melmond cautiously asked, wondering how Abel would react. Would he think Wiedel was crazy like him, or would he worry it was just his weakened body causing it? Neither response came. Instead, Abel nodded firmly, his expression serious.