Forget Master Famite—even the other proud, battle-hardened warriors nodded seriously.
Dignity was relative in this world.
They could certainly preserve their dignity by pretending they hadn't understood anything and slinking back home. But if they saved face, the king would lose his in no time.
If the Legendary Archmage ever came to the palace to demand an explanation, His Majesty would probably make them enjoy an otherworldly version of the Louis XVI Happy Stage—the guillotine—in a most "dignified" manner.
In the end, dignity came down to strength.
In front of a truly peerless powerhouse, being told to act like a dog or do some odd jobs was already a sign of respect.
How many people wanted to serve a legendary big shot's foot-washing water but couldn't even find a way in?
They even figured that if they hadn't been waving their embassy flag, that esteemed gentleman would have struck them with lightning too.
Ganis walked up to Downs and bowed deeply.
"Sir, what are you..." Downs was stunned.
"Sir Quijote! We are terribly sorry! We misjudged your master's strength and took him for an ordinary Archmage. Clearly, our actions were extremely discourteous to a true Legendary Archmage. We nearly caused a serious international dispute. If we've affected your master's opinion of our country, then we would deserve to die a thousand deaths."
"Ah! No, just now, that..." Downs was too young to know that the scene they'd just witnessed had led the old foxes like Ganis to imagine all sorts of twists and turns.
Downs was happy, though. He'd personally confirmed from this great figure of the kingdom that his master really was a Legendary Archmage.
After his excitement came a little worry—his master didn't seem to be in a very good mood!
Ganis continued, "Your master killed the White Dragon right in front of us to give us a chance to atone. We'll take care of everything and have you bring the spoils to your master."
"Ah, this..."
"Sir, please don't refuse. Your modesty will put us in a difficult position." Master Famite chimed in as well.
"That's right! It's our honor to serve a Legendary Archmage," the others said in unison.
There were two Master Level powerhouses in the embassy, and the rest of the guards were all high-level professionals. Seeing so many powerful people praise and revere his master made Downs feel proud and excited, with just a tiny bit of nervousness mixed in.
Since they all put it that way, Downs could only go along with it, letting these powerful people—who usually looked down on everyone—handle the heaviest labor.
The great axe in Master Famite's hands, which had once slain a legendary tiger (if this were a game, its Challenge Level would be 9, and it would probably take a high-level party to stand against it), was treated like a butcher's cleaver.
Famite clearly winced when his axe blade chipped while cutting off the White Dragon's head, but he still insisted on finishing the job.
The White Dragon's blood was the most powerful of refrigerants. Some of them even got frostbite, but they warmed themselves by the fire and went right back to work without a single complaint.
It took all these powerful people half a day to completely butcher such a huge dragon.
Looking at the hill of White Dragon parts, Downs didn't know what to do.
The bald, burly Warrior Famite came over and wiped away his sweat. "Sir Quijote! It's all done. White Dragon meat has an innate freezing property. Unless you thaw it over a fierce fire, it won't spoil even if left at room temperature for a year. You can bury it somewhere for now and deal with it later. What should we do with the head?"
"I...I don't know," Downs replied honestly.
Ganis pondered for a moment. "From what you've said, your master lives in seclusion. He probably doesn't want to be disturbed. In that case, we can hang the head by the only exit. Pureblood dragons possess Dragon's Might, and after a dragon is killed, its Dragon's Might doesn't vanish. The resentment it forms in its final moments becomes an even more powerful warning, intimidating any creature that isn't strong enough. Of course, it might anger other White Dragons passing by, but with your master's strength, I imagine he wouldn't care."
Ganis was making far too many assumptions. If a certain transmigrator had heard him, he would have angrily shouted, "I really fucking appreciate that!"
But to Downs, it sounded wonderful.
That's right!
Master was far too low-key!
He could kill a dragon in one blow. What the hell did he have to fear from the dragon clan's revenge?
Hang them up! Hang them all!
Downs excitedly imagined a day when he would hang dragon heads all along the cliffs on either side of the waterfall he was about to dive into.
And so, the embassy members respectfully carried the completely butchered White Dragon to the waterfall pool. At Downs's request, they secured the White Dragon's head—with its eyes glaring wide and its gaze forever fixed—to a cliff face.
"Then that settles it. Since your master seems a little unhappy, we won't risk angering him. Let's take our leave. By the next time we come, His Majesty will surely bring a sufficiently substantial gift." Ganis bowed deeply again.
"I'm sorry. My master has a bit of a temper."
"No, no! Only those with the firmest will can become Legendary powerhouses. Your master's reaction was entirely justified; we were the ones who offended him. We'll leave this little gift here too. If you think it's suitable, please bring it to him." With that, they set down the kingdom's gift as well.
If you were weak, then you had a foul temper, and they wouldn't indulge you. You could go roll around wherever it was cool.
If your fists were mighty, then you had a strong personality. They wouldn't just kiss up to you—they'd happily kneel and do a forward roll to lick your boots.
As an envoy, you had to keep your moral standards flexible.
After parting ways with Downs, Ganis watched the boy's figure disappear from sight, then let out a long sigh.
"What's wrong, sir?" Famite asked.
"I'm both happy and sad!"
"How so?"
"That gentleman hasn't shut the door on us, so there's still room to negotiate. But his attitude makes it clear he isn't one of our people. Without a 'friendly price,' we'll have to compete fairly with all the other countries."
Famite and the others fell silent.
The Cervantes Kingdom was only a small country, after all. In this current Age of the End of Dharma, a rare genius capable of teaching competent Mages could easily support a Royal Family magic academy. If he wanted to find a patron, the great empires would fight tooth and nail over him. What chance did their little kingdom have?
"Then should we...keep the news quiet?"
Ganis smiled bitterly. "Why did 'that gentleman' send Downs Quijote out? He's obviously planning to take disciples publicly."
"This..."
Ganis turned back and cast a reluctant glance behind him before looking away. His gaze grew resolute.
"Don't worry, Famite. Broaden your horizons! Since that great man has shown us his strength and magnanimity, we should repay him with fairness and goodwill. He's human! A Legendary Archmage willing to help the entire human world revive the Way of Magic! If we can earn a promise of his assistance while providing him with help and service, then everything we do will be worth it."
Everyone grew solemn and nodded together.
There was no helping it. In the Age of the End of Dharma, a living Legendary Archmage was simply that valuable.
Even if their advisor recommended that they kiss up to the Archmage—and lick him till they dropped—it would still be worth every bit of effort.
The transmigrator had no idea that this time...they'd misunderstood everything.