Chapter 119: The Black-Scale Dragon Queen
"Lord Aindra, please." The Prime Minister stepped to the side and made an inviting gesture. "Her Majesty has been waiting inside for some time."
"After you."
Lucian stepped toward the royal castle. Sebas followed half a step behind. The personal guards were led by gate sentries to wait in a side hall.
The Prime Minister walked at Lucian's side.
"I'm sure your lordship has already heard about this year's situation." The Prime Minister kept his voice low. "The beastmen's offensive is fiercer than in previous years. Three towns have already fallen at the front, and the garrison's casualties have been heavy."
Lucian gave a nod. "When we were at Talbach, Captain Marco had already briefed me."
"So..." The Prime Minister paused, his gaze moving briefly across Lucian's face. "This year, I'm afraid we must ask more of your lordship. Our nation will do everything in its power to ensure the necessary supplies."
Lucian had rarely sensed genuine feeling from Prime Minister Bergmann, but he sensed it now. The man's care for this country was probably no less than the loli queen's own.
He looked at that face, smiling slightly to curry favor for the sake of his people, and found himself thinking the man wasn't quite as insufferable as he'd always assumed.
"I'll do my best," Lucian said.
The Prime Minister's smile deepened. The two of them walked along the stone-paved road past the neatly trimmed low shrubs and toward the palace.
Sebas followed behind, watching Lucian's back. A quiet, genuine smile crossed his face.
Lord Lucian is still so well-regarded wherever he goes.
---
The party entered the palace.
Along one side of the interior wall, large relief carvings had been worked into the stone — dragons rendered with vivid detail, casting shadows of varying depth in the light pouring through the high windows.
Lucian noticed something.
It was too quiet.
He had walked this corridor leading to the reception hall more than once. In previous years at this hour, attendants would be standing along both sides in their matching uniforms, posture deferential. There would be the occasional sound of a secretary's quick footsteps.
Today the whole corridor was empty.
Lucian's brow drew together slightly.
He glanced sideways at Prime Minister Bergmann.
The Prime Minister was walking half a step ahead, hands clasped behind his back. His wrinkled face carried a calibrated smile, gaze level ahead, showing nothing unusual.
Lucian felt it anyway.
He drew his gaze back and let out a quiet internal sigh.
Here we go again.
Every time this Prime Minister adopted a more formal manner, something inconvenient followed.
He didn't slow his pace.
At the end of the corridor, the reception hall door was half open.
Lucian quickened his step and pushed it.
Light flooded in.
Before his eyes could adjust from the dim corridor to the brightness —
A small hand closed around his finger.
Very small. The fingers were slender as branches, their pads carrying a faint coolness. They had taken hold of the pinky of his right hand.
Lucian's body went rigid in an instant.
The hand rocked back and forth with a slow, coaxing motion, the way a child might tug at an adult's sleeve to get their attention.
"Count Lucian—"
The voice came from below.
Soft and gentle, the end trailing slightly, with a small tremor somewhere underneath, like someone who had been burdened for a very long time and had finally found someone to tell it to.
"You're finally here."
Lucian looked down.
In front of him stood a small girl in a pale pink dress. The dress was short, almost the entire length of her legs visible below the hem. Black hair hung loose over her shoulders, like silk ruffled by the wind, with a few wisps falling at her ears that made the face beneath look even smaller.
The face was exquisitely made, every feature as though carved by a master craftsman given unlimited time. Large eyes held a thin, hovering mist. Lashes trembled lightly, as if a tear might roll free at any moment. The tip of her nose was faintly pink. Her lips were set in a small pout. Her entire bearing gave off an atmosphere of I'm pitiful, I need to be protected, please don't refuse me.
Lucian's mouth opened.
His jawbone nearly came unmoored. His eyes went wide and round. Something in the face was pure, unguarded shock.
What happened to the queen?
His mind began working slowly.
Draudillon had played the pitiful little girl before in previous years...
His gaze dropped to the hand closing around his.
But why now, specifically when I came with Sebas, suddenly grabbing my hand and being this spoiled — what is this? Is Sebas going to get the wrong idea?
Lucian's mind stalled.
---
The timeline returns to before Lucian arrived at the capital.
Dragon Kingdom royal castle.
Draudillon Oriculus sat on the wide throne. Her feet hung in the air, toes a small distance from the floor. The pink hem of her dress spread across the dark stone below her like a flower blooming in shadow. White hands rested on the armrests, nails neatly trimmed.
Prime Minister Bergmann stood below the throne. Composed face, spine perfectly straight, dark formal coat without a single crease.
"Hah?" "What?"
Draudillon's voice came from the throne, carrying unmistakable displeasure and disbelief.
Her brow furrowed. Black hair slid from her shoulder, swaying with the movement of her head.
The large eyes narrowed. Lips pressed flat. Her entire bearing shifted from regal to ready-to-push-back.
"You want me to be even more adorable this year?"
Her voice rose.
"And to allow at least minimal physical contact?"
"Yes, Your Majesty." The Prime Minister's reasoning was almost cold. "It will more effectively stimulate Lord Aindra's protective instincts."
The corner of Draudillon's mouth twitched.
"Is the entire world made of lolicons?" The displeasure in her voice carried a personal affront. "Older is objectively more comfortable in every possible way."
She looked down, glanced at her flat chest, then looked back up, expression even less pleased than before.
"Speaking frankly, Your Majesty." The Prime Minister didn't lift his eyelids. "Only the young-girl form can stir the protective instincts of the entire population. If Your Majesty wishes to maintain a different form, the nation's current situation will need to be resolved first."
Draudillon's face flushed.
"Don't say form!" Her voice sharpened, bristling. "That is my actual appearance."
"Be that as it may." Not a flicker of emotion from the Prime Minister. "If things continue in this direction, Your Majesty may maintain whichever appearance she wishes — there won't be anyone left to see it either way."
Draudillon's lips pressed flat.
She stared at the Prime Minister's calm face, searching for any crack to get a word in.
The Prime Minister gave her no time to breathe.
"This year's beastman invasion is different from previous ones." His voice took on a heavier quality, sharp eyes fixed on the queen. "With an army that size, they're clearly planning to conquer our nation and turn it into a feed yard."
Draudillon's fingers tightened on the throne's armrests.
"The Adamantite-ranked team is fighting hard to resist, but the gap is too great. Gathering the people to the capital and waiting for the enemy to exhaust their food supplies is one option — but our own food situation is equally precarious. Our supplies may give out first."
His gaze settled on Draudillon's face with a rationality that left no room for comfort.
"What a headache." Draudillon's voice dropped, heavy with exhaustion and helplessness.
"Alternatively: send an elite force to capture their king." The Prime Minister said.
"Using that Aindra lord as the leader?" Draudillon raised her eyes.
"If he declines, Crystal Tears' captain Serabure is also an option." The Prime Minister paused. "But based on track record, Lord Aindra's capability is unquestionably superior."
Draudillon was quiet for a moment. Then she spoke with obvious flustered irritation:
"Both of those two are definitely lolicons."
She paused, as though confirming her own assessment.
"Especially Serabure — every time he talks to me, his eyes never stop wandering. What is there to look at about a washboard? If he finds it so appealing, why not just look at the wall instead?"
"Compared to him, let's go with Aindra."
The corner of the Prime Minister's mouth shifted almost imperceptibly.
"Your Majesty, those are simply personal preferences..." He stopped mid-sentence.
The Prime Minister appeared unable to convince himself either, and finally acknowledged it.
"...Ah. Your Majesty is correct. They are indeed lolicons."
He had finally admitted it.
Draudillon's brow furrowed even further.
"The fact that you said it so readily makes it worse."
"However, Your Majesty — given that Lord Aindra makes the journey all the way from the Kingdom specifically to come to the Dragon Kingdom's aid." The Prime Minister's tone acquired a faintly pointed quality. "His degree of lolicon tendencies is probably even more severe than Serabure's."
Draudillon's face grew redder.
"Truly, I wish these capable people weren't like this."
"Your Majesty will need to endure a little longer." The Prime Minister said with perfect gravity, delivering a line of no small moral dubiousness. "It's only this degree of indulgence, after all. Your Majesty wouldn't want more of your people to be taken by the beastmen, would you?"
Naked moral coercion.
Draudillon lowered her head. Her long black hair fell across her face.
A long pause followed.
"...Fine." Draudillon submitted.
---
The timeline returns to the present.
Prime Minister Bergmann stood at the reception hall doorway, hands clasped behind his back.
He watched Lucian go faintly blank in response to Draudillon's clinginess.
The young man had frozen for just a moment when the queen took his hand, then quickly caught himself and adjusted his expression, bowing slightly.
Just as expected.
The Prime Minister thought quietly.
Lord Aindra is simply good at concealing it. At heart he is still a lolicon.
No, let's be generous about it.
Perhaps Lord Aindra simply has genuine feelings for the queen.
And it so happens that Her Majesty's current form is a loli.
He let out a quiet internal sigh.
---
"Count Lucian—" The queen's voice was on the verge of tears. "Those beastmen... this year they're fiercer than ever. So many of my people have been taken away, and so many towns are already gone..."
Her voice grew smaller and smaller, becoming almost a murmur at the end.
"I... I am truly very frightened."
Lucian felt her fingers tighten around his.
He glanced sideways at Prime Minister Bergmann in the doorway.
The Prime Minister had a calibrated smile on his face, looking forward at the scene in the center of the room, showing no intention of speaking.
Lucian sighed inwardly.
I really do still dislike this man.
---
Sebas stood two steps behind Lucian. His gaze had settled on the queen's hand gripping Lucian's.
So Lord Lucian's preference is this type.
Sebas thought quietly.
No wonder Lord Lucian had shown such resistance when Sebas had tested his opinion of Solution. It wasn't that Lord Lucian had no regard for her — it was simply that Lord Lucian's taste ran more toward... petite, adorable types.
Sebas's gaze moved over the queen. The pale pink dress. Fair, slender limbs. A face as refined as a porcelain doll.
Quite adorable. An impartial assessment.
He then thought of Solution's height. The battle maid was considerably taller than Her Majesty the Queen, and the difference in build was even more pronounced.
Naturally.
Sebas gave a small internal nod.
No wonder Lord Lucian would decline Solution.
Sebas had no objection to relationships with a large age gap. As long as there was no coercion, neither age nor race was an obstacle.
Still — it was a pity.
An individual as outstanding as Lord Lucian, not brought into Nazarick. A genuine loss.
But then Sebas reconsidered: the Dragon Kingdom was far from the Aindra domain, and looking at how Lord Lucian and the Dragon Queen interacted, the two did not appear to have an actual relationship yet.
The brief physical stiffness when the queen took Lord Lucian's hand was not the natural response of lovers — it looked more like someone caught off guard by sudden closeness.
So Nazarick could still make its move.
Sebas quietly began matching suitable candidates in his mind.
Given this dragon queen's body type... he thought of one of his subordinates among the Pleiades: Entoma Vasilissa Zeta.
Entoma Vasilissa Zeta: 149 centimeters, level 51, her outward appearance that of a sweet young girl, her true nature an arachne, a cursed-spell caster who fought by commanding insects.
If introduced to Lord Lucian, the match might prove quite suitable.
Sebas filed this candidate away quietly.
---
In the center of the reception hall, Draudillon continued.
"...Three towns have already fallen at the front, and the garrison's casualties are severe. Mr. Serabure and the others have been fighting hard, but the beastmen's numbers are simply too great..."
Her voice grew lower and lower. The mist in her eyes finally condensed into tears, rolling down her cheeks.
"I... I truly don't know what to do anymore."
Lucian watched the tears slide down her face and drip onto the collar of her pale pink dress, spreading small dark stains.
He opened his mouth, about to say something —
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