Reborn as a Hated Noble Family, We Start an Industrial Revolution-Chapter 132: THE DRACONIAN COMPACT

​Dawn in Draconia never arrived with subtle whispers. Above the soaring altitudes of the Draconia-Alpen Mountains, the sun seemed to explode from behind the horizon, drenching the granite peaks in a gold so brilliant it was painful to the eye. For Roland Sudrath, that light was not a symbol of hope, but rather a death knell for his past life as a loyal citizen of the Kingdom of Aethelgard.

​Throughout the night, he had not closed his eyes once. In his hand, a sheet of cold dragon-skin parchment felt as heavy as a mountain. It was the draft of a treasonous compact—a document that, should it fall into the hands of King Edward’s intelligence network, would ensure the entire Sudrath lineage was erased from the annals of history.

​"You look like a man who has just finished selling his soul to a devil, Brother Roland."

​The soft yet firm voice shattered the silence of the pavilion. Roland turned to find Rumina sitting at a marble table, surrounded by piles of calculation sheets and a small abacus made of polished crystal. His sister’s face was weary, her eyes bloodshot from lack of rest, yet her fingers remained nimble, recording figures with mechanical precision.

​Roland offered a thin smile—a gesture that failed to reach his eyes. "I suppose I have, Rumina. And the price was the very loyalty Father has spent his blood defending for decades."

​Rumina let out a long, heavy sigh, setting her quill aside. "Forget about loyalty to a King who allowed us to be slaughtered in Northveil. I have more pressing matters. I’ve just finished the logistical estimates for the dragons in Iron Hearth. Do you have any idea how much livestock they consume in a single day?"

​Roland knit his brows. "How much?"

​"A minimum of one adult bull or at least two fat sheep per dragon. That is just to maintain their base metabolic energy. If they engage in high-intensity combat, that consumption doubles," Rumina massaged her temples. "And that is not even accounting for their demand for purified mana crystals as ’dessert.’ Brother, if this war lasts longer than a month, we might win our territory back only to end up as the poorest beggars on the continent."

​"Consider it an investment, Rumina," Roland stepped closer, patting his sister’s shoulder. "Better to be bankrupt in our own home than to die wealthy in a land of exile. Keep calculating. Ensure we have reserves hidden in the logistics district."

​Before Rumina could protest further, the pavilion doors swung open without a knock. Princess Seraphina of Draconia stepped inside. She no longer wore her ceremonial silks; instead, she was clad in sleek dragon-leather armor with a short sword hanging from her hip.

​"The session is about to begin," Seraphina stated. Her eyes searched Roland’s face, looking for any flickering sign of doubt. "My father is waiting. The Council has reconvened."

​Roland nodded, straightening the collar of his mantle. "Let’s finish this."

​The Hall of the Jade Claw felt even colder than the day before. The presence of General Zoldrak at the side of the Emperor’s throne exerted a palpable military pressure. The old general stood tall, his thick-scaled arms crossed, watching Roland with a gaze of begrudging respect.

​Emperor Tharazion rose from his throne as Roland and Rumina reached the center of the hall.

​"Roland Sudrath," the Emperor’s voice boomed, vibrating the stalactites clinging to the ceiling. "Through the night, I have listened to the whispers of the mountain and the logic of my elders. The threat of the Iron Empire is no longer a trivial matter of human squabbles. If they truly covet the Adamantite, then Draconia cannot merely watch from behind the clouds."

​Prince Ignis looked as though he wanted to speak, his face flushing as he suppressed a protest, but a sharp wave of the Emperor’s hand silenced him instantly.

​"I approve this alliance," Tharazion continued. "Draconia will dispatch five hundred dragon warriors of the combat caste under the command of General Zoldrak. They will assist House Sudrath in reclaiming Northveil and crushing every iron machine that dares to set foot upon Northern soil."

​Roland offered a profound bow. "A wise decision, Your Majesty. House Sudrath will not forget this."

​"Wait!" Ignis finally erupted. He stepped forward, pointing an accusatory finger at Roland. "What of the guarantees? What if this human merely uses us to clean up his mess and then turns back to worship his King?"

​Roland straightened his back, meeting Ignis’s gaze. There was no insult in his eyes, only a terrifying, clinical calm.

​"Prince Ignis," Roland’s voice flowed like a quiet river. "You love the dragon race deeply, and that is something I respect. However, the world you knew is dying. You fear we will betray you? Know this: the moment I sign this compact, I become an enemy to my own kind. I am not offering you treason; I am offering you a future where dragons and humans do not need to prey upon one another to survive. If you wish to see Draconia remain magnificent, stop staring at your own feet and start staring at the horizon."

​Ignis was stunned. Roland’s words contained no malice, but a vision so vast it made his personal ego feel infinitesimal. He took a step back, unable to return the gaze.

​Zoldrak cleared his throat, the sound like grinding stones. "Enough of the politics. Human, I have readied my host. But there is a logistical problem. Your hundred infantrymen camped on the western outskirts of Draconia... they will never match our flight speed on foot."

​Roland turned to Zoldrak. "I have already considered that, General. I ask your host to carry them. Every combat dragon is strong enough to bear two men on their back, are they not?"

​Zoldrak snorted, his eyes flickering with amusement. "You want high-caste dragons to serve as mounts for lowly humans? You truly have some nerve, Roland Sudrath. But fine—for the sake of the ’efficiency’ you boast about, I will order my troops to retrieve them at the border camp."

​"Thank you, General. Lead them well," Roland replied.

​After the official session was adjourned, the atmosphere grew slightly more fluid, but a new tension arose at Roland’s side. Seraphina stood beside him as they walked toward the observation balcony.

​"I am coming to Northreach," Seraphina said suddenly.

​Roland stopped in his tracks, looking at her with a furrowed brow. "Seraphina, this is not a diplomatic visit. This is a war against soulless machines that know no mercy. Northreach is in ruins. You are safer here."

​"Safety is a prison, Roland," Seraphina countered stubbornly. "You said the world is changing. How can I lead my people in the future if I do not see that change with my own eyes? Besides, I am quite skilled with a blade."

​"It’s not about skill, it’s about..." Roland paused, searching for the right words. "I do not wish to lose the only person who truly understands me on this continent."

​Seraphina fell silent, a slight blush creeping up her cheeks, yet she remained steadfast. "Then protect me on the battlefield. Because I will not remain here while you risk your life for a negotiation I helped build."

​Roland sighed, realizing that arguing with a determined dragoness was a futile endeavor. "Very well. But you are to remain under Zoldrak’s strict supervision."

​"Agreed," she replied with a victorious smile.

​Before the departure, Emperor Tharazion summoned Roland for a private conversation on a balcony overlooking the deepest valley of Draconia. The wind whipped fiercely, tossing Roland’s dark hair. 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

​"Roland," the Emperor said, omitting any titles. "You have accomplished many extraordinary things in a short time. You bluffed my council, you slew my best knight in a duel, and you promised a rebellion."

​Roland remained silent, waiting for the following words.

​"But there is one thing you cannot hide from me," Tharazion turned his sharp golden eyes on Roland. "The way Seraphina looks at you... I was her father long before I was an Emperor."

​Roland felt his throat go dry. "Your Majesty, I..."

​"Do not give me diplomatic excuses," Tharazion interrupted. "I know the human lifespan is short. To me, your life is but a fleeting blink. If you truly desire my daughter, then become a human worthy of her. Do not die as a failed traitor. Win this war, build the kingdom you promised, and prove that ’Sudrath’ is a name fit to stand beside dragon blood."

​Roland was speechless. It wasn’t just a blessing; it was a challenge. "I will prove it, Your Majesty. With my family’s knowledge and your dragon fire, Northreach will be the beginning of a new era."

​At the Skyward Pier, a magnificent sight unfolded. Five hundred dragons of various sizes—from red dragons venting embers from their nostrils to silver dragons with scales shimmering like mirrors—were unfurling their wings.

​Rumina was busy coordinating the loading of purified mana crystal supplies into specially designed saddlebags, crafted hurriedly by dragon technicians under her instruction.

​"Remember!" Rumina shouted at a dragon guard. "These crystals are sensitive to shocks! If you drop them, I will cut your rations for a week!"

​Zoldrak stood at the front of his line, gripping a massive spear. He gazed toward the Northwest, where the hundred Sudrath infantrymen were waiting to be picked up.

​"Host!" Zoldrak roared. "Today we fly not to hunt mountain beasts! We fly to burn iron! Retrieve the humans at the border, and show the world why the sky belongs to Draconia!"

​Five hundred dragons roared in unison, creating a shockwave that sent snow cascading from the surrounding slopes. Roland stood beside Seraphina, looking toward the Northwest, where the horizon was dark with the smoke of war.

​He knew his journey back to Iron Hearth would never be the same. He had left as a diplomat, and he was returning as the spark of a revolution that would change the face of Aethel-Terra forever.