Kingdoms, Delusions, and One Crazy Monarch

Linderia.

Also known as the Land of Dragons.

A kingdom lying in the east, boasting three capital cities, Linderia has long captured the world's attention. A pioneer in every field, it far surpasses its neighboring nations in terms of progress and innovation.

Setting aside Stalefort for a moment, no repository of magical knowledge comes close to what Linderia has amassed. When we speak of “Magical Sciences,” we're referring to the structured study of magic—its mechanisms, its development, its application in weaponry and beyond. And most of the foundational literature on the subject? Yeah, it all traces back to Linderia’s deep wells of knowledge.

The native race inhabiting the kingdom—known as the Half-Dragons—are gifted both physically and mentally, with an extraordinary affinity for magic. It's no wonder they’re considered one of the most powerful races in the world. Yet despite their overwhelming advantages, Linderia has always struggled with one key issue—numbers. Their army has never been large. A direct consequence of a certain war… or more specifically, a certain incident during that war.

An event so catastrophic, it rivaled the Herfrieden Massacre in sheer horror.

No—this was another massacre entirely. One that wiped out over 80% of Linderia’s population at the time.

The massacre that turned the Land of Dragons... into the Graveyard of Dragons.

Every landmark, every ancient palace, reduced to ash. If someone told you those piles of rubble were once grand structures, you probably wouldn’t believe them.

It didn’t spare anyone—young or old, infant or unborn, living or inanimate. One sweeping blow erased them all.

An event so devastating, it nearly drove the Half-Dragon race into extinction alongside their homeland.

And all of it… was done by a single person.

But that’s a tale for another time.

After barely surviving that tragedy, the rulers of Linderia spent the next fifty years pouring everything they had into rebuilding. With their superior bodies and near-perfect magic control, they focused their efforts on advancing magical research. Thanks to their painstaking and intricate experiments, they quickly rebuilt the kingdom from the ground up.

Even so, the population problem remained. And as neighboring kingdoms steadily strengthened their militaries, Linderia could no longer afford to ignore its own.

So, the ruling council came up with a solution. Not a perfect one. But the only one they had.

If they couldn’t match other kingdoms in numbers, they’d beat them in quality.

They pushed their soldiers and security forces to the absolute limit—physically, mentally, magically. Intensive training, advanced strategies, psychological education, and more. The results were undeniable: in just a few short years, Linderia became the safest kingdom in the world.

They even began holding an annual festival for these elite warriors. A three-day celebration with a grand combat tournament that welcomed all military and security personnel. Crowds gathered from all over to witness these thrilling matches—watching Linderia’s finest show the world what true warriors looked like.

And so, Linderia wasn’t just the Kingdom of Knowledge anymore.

It became a nation with possibly the strongest military force in the world… even if they were few.

---

In one of the kingdom’s lavish palaces, inside one of many identical rooms, sat a man on a plush, wide, cotton-cushioned chair made just for him.

Beldora, King of the Dragons.

Before him, a table stacked with neat piles of papers… and a single sheet lying flat in front of him.

Standing across from it all was a stunning woman—dark eyes, dark hair—holding several files and documents in her arms.

And for some reason, a heavy scowl was carved across her elegant features.

“Ughhh… This work never ends… And to think my one and only vacation ended in the worst way possible… I was so excited…! Haaaah…”

Beldora groaned dramatically, sounding nothing like the dignified monarch he was supposed to be. Frankly, no other king on Earth would dare complain like this.

Ever since he stepped into this room and saw the stack of paperwork awaiting him, he’d been whining like a child.

“Hey, Shion… Think they’ll redo the exam if I ask nicely? I mean—it’s Stalefort, right? I could bribe them! Toss in some gold coins, offer a few research documents—come on, something!”

“…”

“...!!!”

Silence. Thick, dreadful silence.

The moment those words left his mouth, the one named Shion, tightened her expressions.

The air turned heavy. Ominous. Despite the bright sunlight outside, the atmosphere in the room went pitch-black.

Beldora shivered, scooting as close to the armrest as he could, as if it might protect him.

Then, she spoke.

A voice so cold and sharp it felt like she was stabbing him with knives, not words.

“You’re still talking about that? I’ve told you repeatedly—the academy started the school year… three. days. ago. Yet here you are, still whining. Still avoiding your work.”

Shion—his right-hand aide and most trusted assistant—had to forcibly rein in her temper. Yelling at the king, even a lazy one, wasn’t something you were supposed to do.

“B-But, Shion—!”

“No buts! It’s only forty documents! All you need to do is review them and stamp them. I already read through every single one. I even wrote a one-line summary for each! I padded that blasted chair with the finest cotton I could find—and you wouldn’t believe how hard it was to get! All so you wouldn’t complain about your ‘back pain’ or ‘uncomfortable seating’! But still! Still! You refuse to even read forty damn lines! And it’s been three days!”

“!!!!”

She finally exploded.

Shion knew better than anyone: Beldora might’ve looked like a noble king on the outside, but when it came to desk work?

He was the embodiment of Sloth.

That’s what she called it, anyway.

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And for thirty years, she’d dealt with his laziness, eventually erupting in anger whenever he crossed the line.

And every time that happened, without fail, Beldora would respond like this:

“…Wait, Shio—”

“WHAT?!”

“I… I’m sorry…?”

Cowering like a kitten, he clung to the chair he now realized was suspiciously soft, lowering his head with his hands pressed together in a pitiful, exaggerated bow.

Not exactly the image you'd expect from a royal figure.

But strangely enough, that was all it took.

“…Shion…?”

He peeked up, half-expecting her to lunge at him.

“…Just finish your work, please.”

“Yes, ma’am…”

Immediately, Beldora grabbed the forty-line summary sheet and began reading at lightning speed. One after another, he opened the documents, stamping them without pause.

Kings were seen as people above the law—perhaps because they were the ones who made them.

They were wise. Brilliant. Unshakable.

But even kings need a right hand.

A pillar to lean on.

And in Beldora’s case… that pillar was Shion.

Their relationship was something else entirely. Not just assistant and ruler.

Closer. Stronger. More personal than anyone else in the palace.

He allowed her to cross lines no one else dared—well, except the lines around his heart, of course.

And why?

That… was one of many secrets only Beldora and Shion shared.

Rumors had long circulated. That the king had feelings for her. Or that she had feelings for him.

Maybe both. Maybe neither.

No one really knew.

But clearly—something made Beldora act the way he did around her, and only her. And made her, in return, forgive him far more than anyone else would.

She treated him almost like… a foolish child.

And that kind of bond—rare, raw, and one-of-a-kind—was what tied the king to this woman.

---

Twenty-five minutes later.

He was done.

After three days of procrastination, the king finished all his work in record time.

For the first time in days, Shion finally sighed in relief.

“See? I told you—it’ll be over in no time if you just focus. And the faster you finish, the more free time you’ll have… so, Your Majesty?”

“…”

She turned to look at him, only to find his eyes blank and lifeless—like a dead fish.

Another sigh escaped her lips.

“…You really hate paperwork, don’t you.”

“WHO WOULDN’T?!”

Springing back to life, Beldora jumped from his seat, stretching and pacing like he’d just completed a full day’s labor—when it had barely been half an hour.

“You’ll get used to it if you keep working consistently and seriously.”

“I don’t wanna! How am I supposed to get used to something I’ve avoided for the past ten years?!”

Her eyes twitched. The fury returned.

“…Do you know why you still haven’t gotten used to it after all this time…?”

“…!”

There it was again.

That tone.

That dark aura seeping from her body.

Of course he knew the answer.

Every single time he found an excuse—“My back hurts,” “This chair sucks,” “I’m allergic to paperwork,”—heck, once he even entered the room, stared around for a moment, and said:

“Hmm… The paint color in here isn’t inspiring. I can’t work like this. Change it.”

And he said it with the straightest face imaginable. Dead serious. You’d never know if it was a joke.

But let’s be honest—those were meaningless excuses.

And how did Shion respond to all that? Well… she massaged his back, replaced the chair, repainted the entire room walls—seriously, she did all of that just to get him to stamp a paper. Or scribble a line, at most.

What kind of indomitable will did this woman possess? What kind of patience?

But putting paperwork aside—and ignoring his ridiculously childish personality—Beldora was surprisingly relentless when it came to solving real issues. Complicated matters. Things that required decisions, speeches, or physical action—not pen and paper. It was as if he were cursed, forbidden from doing any work behind a desk.

And despite everything, despite his quirks and immaturity, Beldora—judging by the policies he enacted and the changes that followed—was considered the greatest ruler in Linderia’s history.

Unbelievable, really.

“Haaah… but seriously now, I still can’t get that whole exam mess out of my head.”

Having barely survived the wrath of Shion, the king’s tone shifted—more serious this time, his gaze distant as he brought up an event that had taken place not long ago.

“You mean that firestorm incident?”

Beldora nodded in response.

Of course, there was no way the king would miss Stalefort’s “exciting” entrance exams—as he liked to call them. Especially since it gave him a perfect excuse to escape work. But more importantly, his beloved daughter Lunamaria was one of the participants.

While Beldora thoroughly enjoyed the skirmishes unfolding in the forest during the second test—especially after Luna finally appeared—his poor seatmate, the King of Luthiria, had nearly left the scene due to Beldora’s “alarming” behavior. But just at that moment… it happened.

A terrifying presence surged across the field, followed by a colossal fire explosion that tore through the forest and brought the entire exam to a halt, all to ensure the participants’ safety.

After confirming Luna’s safety and hearing the academy’s decision to suspend the exam for unspecified reasons, Beldora had no choice but to return home—his vacation cruelly cut short.

In his words: “The worst ending imaginable.”

And ever since, those events had haunted his thoughts.

“Hmm… but this isn’t the first time something’s disrupted Stalefort’s exams, right? I remember a few incidents from the past. But for some reason… this one feels different. I just can’t shake it.”

This time, his voice was low, laced with unusual gravity. Beldora stared out the window, gazing up at the blue summer skies of his kingdom, that ominous scene still fresh in his mind.

“I can still see it clearly… that black cloud rising into the sky.”

He raised his hand slowly, as if tracing the smoke’s ascent. His thoughts drifted to one single hope: that such a thing would never happen within his own kingdom.

From his perspective—and from the perspective of everyone else there—when the explosion rocked the arena and the guards rushed to form protective circles around their rulers, everyone assumed one thing:

“Someone is attacking the exam.”

With no apparent target or motive, and the chances of such an attack being near zero, it was the most logical conclusion at the time. No one would’ve guessed that a student was behind it.

So when Beldora learned that the source of the explosion was one of the examinees, that bothers him.

That sheer force—those destructive flames—were unlike anything he’d seen, even from warriors he personally acknowledged as monsters in human skin.

“Those flames…”

Shion echoed his words, the image lingering in her mind even though she hadn’t witnessed it herself.

“Yeah… that moment. When that smoke started rising from the region, we didn’t even need the scrying crystals to see it. Those berserk flames… they were visible.”

Shion had stayed behind to cover for the ever-slacking king, and while Stalefort had recorded the incident through its crystal surveillance, it never shared any of it with the outside world.

Which meant, those who weren’t there would never understand what Beldora and the others felt that day.

“…Do you think this could cause problems down the line?”

A question any secretary would feel obligated to ask. As soon as Shion finished speaking, Beldora whipped around and answered instantly with a big, fake smile.

“No, not at all! It was probably just an uncontrolled burst of mana. Maybe someone broke under pressure and—boom. That’s all. Sure, the explosion serves as a ‘preview’ of that student’s potential… but that’s all it is. If we’re talking about real problems that need attention, it’s gotta be the Luthiria–Wysperia tension over that border region, right?”

“…Right.”

Still unconvinced, Shion let it go.

If the king said there was no danger, she could only hope he was right.

Even if Beldora could be immature, careless, silly, and downright unkingly at times—when he spoke with seriousness, his words carried a different weight entirely.

She glanced at the stack of documents he had just finished, still amazed at the speed with which he completed them.

And just as she was about to leave and give him his well-earned (if reluctant) break, Beldora suddenly spun around to face her.

With an expression she couldn’t quite read.

But somehow… she just knew something ridiculous was coming.

“Now then, Shion—quick! Tell me everything about my sweet Luna’s life at the academy! I miss her so much you wouldn’t believe it! I need details—every last one! Spare nothing!”

Snapping back to his usual nonsense, Beldora looked up at her with sparkling eyes, overflowing with dramatic flair.

Shion exhaled deeply, her shoulders slumping.

“Oh gods… not again. It hasn’t even been half a da—”

“Luna? Luna! Where are you, my dearest daughter? What are you doing right now? Did you make any friends? How’s the food? When will you come home? Your father misses you so much, you know!!”

His shout echoed through the room like that of a madman.

Watching him flail around, rambling emotionally to no one in particular, Shion stared at the supposed wise ruler of her kingdom and muttered something that would probably get her executed.

“…This lunatic…”

Thankfully, the palace walls were soundproof.