Chapter 802

The issue of the airship crash could have been easily blamed on the Mage Tower, but the subsequent reports were a headache even for Leopold.

‘What kind of treasure is she even looking for in that vast Sky Mountain Range…?’

Since she had successfully completed the dragon subjugation he requested, whatever she did afterward was technically her freedom… but he couldn’t help but sigh deeply.

Ha-shal-leur’s absence meant that all the schedules she was supposed to attend would be postponed.

Ludwig’s funeral, negotiations with the Astraea Church Order, the recognition of Landenburg Territory’s independence, and the reorganization of the borderlines—none of these could proceed without her.

‘I thought I had her under control, keeping her from making unilateral moves… Was I mistaken?’

In truth, Leopold had always believed he could somewhat control Ha-shal-leur. At least, that’s what he thought.

Ha-shal-leur was indifferent to politics, internal affairs, and diplomacy, so whenever such issues arose, she would usually accept Leopold’s explanations and solutions without question.

However, her recent actions clearly deviated from that pattern.

If it were the usual Ha-shal-leur, she would have returned to the capital immediately after defeating Nidhogg to handle the piled-up schedules. But this time, she postponed everything to embark on an indefinite treasure hunt.

‘…What on earth is she thinking?’

Leopold, out of habit, tried to run his fingers through his hair, only to feel the unfamiliar texture of his fake hair, which left a hollow ache somewhere in his chest.

Well, it wasn’t his chest that was hollow—it was his hair follicles. But still.

‘To start acting unilaterally in such times… And with the absurd justification of searching the Sky Mountain Range for some family treasure. I can’t grasp her intentions at all. What is she even after…?’

As he adjusted his crooked wig with trembling fingers, Leopold tried to figure out why Ha-shal-leur was acting so differently, but no matter how much he pondered, he couldn’t find an answer.

Countless assumptions flashed through his mind, but all of them were nonsensical.

‘…No, surely not… Surely it’s not that.’

Except for one possibility.

‘She’s a woman who has no interest in anything but war and subjugation, but even so… Surely she couldn’t have forgotten her own father-in-law’s funeral…?’

If, by any chance, Ha-shal-leur had completely forgotten the reason she needed to return to the capital immediately, it would explain why she was rummaging through the mountains in such times.

Leopold didn’t want to believe that the Empire’s strongest warrior and a queen-to-be could be so scatterbrained…

But as the world often goes, the things you least want to believe are usually the closest to the truth.

In fact, Ha-shal-leur had long forgotten about Ludwig’s funeral.

Not because her personality was so twisted that she couldn’t show even a shred of respect for the death of her nominal father-in-law, but because she simply assumed Leopold would have taken care of it.

—

The remains of the Insect-Dragon recovered by the Empire were distributed according to Leopold’s orders, proportionate to each party’s contribution to the subjugation.

Ha-shal-leur, the primary contributor, and the Heaven’s Sword Order received 40% of the total. Asha, who had severed the dragon’s waist at a critical moment, received 10% outright.

Of the remaining 50%, 20% was donated to the Holy Kingdom, which had dispatched the Holy Legion to support Ha-shal-leur’s group, and the remaining 30% was reclaimed as the Empire’s property.

Except for Floheta, who received nothing but a bill and fainted while clutching the back of her neck, everyone was satisfied with their rewards.

“How should we handle the remains?”

“What do you mean, ‘how’? We’ll keep what we need and sell the rest. There are plenty of people in the world who would pay a fortune for dragon remains.”

In response to Duke Bien’s question—whose dark circles under his eyes hadn’t faded since he was appointed Chancellor—Leopold smiled softly as he sipped his wine.

“We’ll keep 10% for reporting purposes and distribute the remaining 20% to the Dragon Kingdom, Himell, and the Empire’s nobles. Of course, we’ll demand a hefty price in return.”

The Empire had secured 30% of the total remains.

Leopold planned to keep only 10% and sell the rest to replenish the depleted national treasury while also gaining political leverage.

3% to the so-called Righteous Faction Dragonkin, 1% to the Evil Faction Dragonkin.

This ratio was meant to placate the Evil Faction, who had lost much of their strength, while also making it clear to the Righteous Faction that opposing the Empire would only bring them losses.

If the Righteous Faction, having received three times the remains, used them to suppress the Evil Faction, it would be an added bonus.

“I doubt that a mere 4% of the total remains could achieve such a thing…”

“We can’t offer more than that. Unlike the dwarves, who can only use dragon remains for engineering purposes, Dragonkin can enhance their combat power with them.”

That’s why the Dragon Kingdom would only receive 4% of the remains.

Even if they offered to fill the Imperial Palace with gold, Leopold had no intention of giving them more.

“Whether it’s true or just their superstition, if there’s even a possibility, we should avoid strengthening a potential enemy.”

If they handed over a massive amount of remains and ended up with a flood of Dragonkin rivaling heroic knights, the Empire would be left pounding the ground in regret.

—

“Half of the remains not sold to the Dragon Kingdom will be auctioned off to the Empire’s nobles. The remains of a dragon personally subjugated by the Saintess of Order. If we put them up for auction, there will be a line of buyers.”

This was a plan to legally reclaim the nobles’ wealth to fill the Empire’s treasury.

If they tried to raise taxes, all the lords would revolt, but if they auctioned off the bones of a dragon slain by the Saintess, they would be clamoring to buy more rather than protesting.

In truth, dragon remains were of no practical use to individual lords.

At best, they could use them as decorations or craft a few weapons and armors.

But nobles were the type to splurge on such luxuries.

For the remains of a dragon slain by the Saintess—a piece with zero practicality but immense symbolic value—they would gladly open their wallets wide.

—

“I’d like to receive technical support from Himell in exchange for the remains… but I’m not sure if the stubborn dwarves will agree. What do you think? As Chancellor, I’d like to hear your opinion.”

“…It’s hard to say for sure. However, considering their cooperation in the airship’s construction, it’s not impossible.”

“That’s what I think too.”

Nodding in agreement, Leopold pulled out a document from the pile on his desk and handed it to Duke Bien.

It was an appointment letter bearing the Emperor’s seal, granting Duke Bien full authority to negotiate with Himell regarding the dragon remains.

“I leave the negotiations with Himell to you. Use the dragon remains to break the dwarves’ stubbornness.”

“Yes. As the Empire’s Chancellor, I will devote myself to achieving the best possible outcome.”

Duke Bien bowed his head, uttering perfunctory words. His eyes, looking down at the floor, were no longer filled with ambition but with exhaustion.

For Duke Bien, whose life goal was to elevate his family’s status and power, becoming the Empire’s Chancellor was the ultimate joy…

But that joy was short-lived.

The position of Chancellor, far from granting him power, was more like a poisoned chalice, burdening him with responsibilities so heavy they could break his back.

The Empire, once peaceful and powerful, was now like an old tree on the verge of collapse, weathered by countless storms.

What awaited Duke Bien as Chancellor was an endless flood of paperwork and the daunting task of somehow stabilizing the crumbling Empire.

He couldn’t neglect his duties. The Bien family was now essentially tied to the fate of the Imperial family.

He was the Empire’s Chancellor, his daughter the Empress, and his future grandchild the next Emperor.

If the Empire regained its former glory, the Bien family would prosper. If the Empire fell, the Bien family would crumble with it.

So what could Duke Bien do? He had no choice but to work tirelessly to stabilize the Empire.

Unconsciously rubbing his increasingly broad forehead, Duke Bien let out a deep sigh and prayed.

He prayed that he wouldn’t be blessed with the same “radiance” as Leopold.

A few strands of his hair, swaying in the wind, floated up into the sky like dandelion seeds.