Reborn as a Hated Noble Family, We Start an Industrial Revolution-Chapter 131: GAMBLING ON GOLDEN SCALES

​The air within the Hall of the Jade Claw felt impossibly heavy, as if gravity itself were conspiring to crush anyone standing at the center of the chamber. The persistent murmurs of the Dragon Elders created an unsettling hum—a symphony of doubt and fear thinly veiled by racial arrogance. Upon his obsidian throne, Emperor Tharazion sat in a state of profound stillness. His eyes, the color of molten gold, stared vacantly at the continental map spread across the central table, as if he could physically see the black plumes of smoke reported by Razor billowing over the northern horizon.

​"We must seal the Gates. Immediately," Elder Oros’s voice shattered the droning atmosphere. The bronze dragon struck the jade table with a scaled fist, the impact echoing like a hammer on an anvil. "Razor’s report is not merely a warning; it is a death knell for the human realms. Northveil was a formidable fortress-port under the protection of House Sudrath. If Count Hektor’s city has fallen, then the humans of this continent have no hope left. Why should we keep our doors open to a race that brings nothing but catastrophe?"

​Prince Ignis nodded in sharp agreement, crossing his massive arms over his chest. "Precisely. It is a matter of simple logistics. Assisting the humans means draining our energy reserves for a creature whose lifespan does not even reach a single century. They are a fragile race. They bicker, they slaughter one another, and now they beg us to clean up their structural mess? It defies logic."

​Roland Sudrath, who had been standing silently in the shadows of a jade pillar, stepped forward. The soles of his high-quality leather boots clicked sharply against the stone, cutting through Ignis’s argument like a knife. His face was pallid—a lingering effect of the harrowing news regarding Northveil—but his eyes burned with a terrifying, predatory intensity.

​"Fragile, Prince Ignis?" Roland repeated the word in a flat, dangerous whisper. "You call the race that managed to defeat dragon warriors ’fragile’? You call the race capable of creating the purified mana crystals you just praised unworthy of assistance?"

​Ignis turned, his eyes narrowing with unadulterated contempt. "You are a coward who fled here while your family burned in the North, Roland Sudrath. What right have you to speak of strength? You are merely a man who has lost half his domain."

​Roland did not rise to the bait. Instead, he walked slowly around the council table, meeting the gaze of each Dragon Elder one by one. "Northveil has indeed fallen. I will not deny that reality. Count Hektor’s lands are likely a sea of blood at this very moment. However, Northveil was not just a city. It was a filter. And now, that filter has been obliterated. The Iron Empire did not come to occupy human wheat fields. They do not care for the petty politics of Aethelgard."

​Roland stopped directly in front of Emperor Tharazion. "Your Majesty, do you know what drives those massive iron ships that float upon the water? Do you know what allows humans to soar through the sky and drop spheres of fire without a single incantation?"

​Emperor Tharazion lifted his head slightly, his gaze piercing. "Demonic knowledge."

​"No. It is the efficiency of the steam engine pushed beyond its natural limits," Roland answered firmly. "And steam engines of that magnitude require an unthinkable amount of fuel. They require minerals with an energy density millions of times greater than ordinary coal. They seek something that has long been considered a legend, or a secret guarded zealously by your race."

​Roland lowered his voice, creating an atmosphere of suffocating suspense. "They are hunting for Adamantite."

​Instantly, the Hall of the Jade Claw fell into a deathly, paralyzing silence. The elders who had been so vocal moments ago suddenly held their breath. The secret of the dragons’ biological dependence on Adamantite and the existence of vast mineral reserves beneath Draconia was a truth that no human was ever supposed to possess.

​"How do you..." Elder Oros spoke with a trembling voice, half-rising from his seat. "How could a human like you possibly know of that?"

​Roland did not offer a specific answer. He allowed the dragons’ imaginations to fill the void. He acted as if he held the entire world’s secret data in the palm of his hand. "The Iron Empire possesses intelligence that spans the continents. If I know, then their Generals know. They crushed Northveil because it was the closest viable landing point to the largest mineral reserves in Aethel-Terra. And those reserves sit directly beneath your feet, Your Majesty."

​Ignis let out a forced laugh, though cold sweat began to bead at his temples. "A fine bluff, Human. You attempt to frighten us so that we might become your shield? The Iron Empire is merely humans with machines. They would not dare touch these peaks."

​"Prince Ignis," Roland interrupted, his voice sharpening. "You are a pragmatist, are you not? Let us speak pragmatically. If the Iron Empire succeeds in occupying Northreach entirely, they will build a permanent logistical infrastructure. They will mass-produce thousands of additional steam-giants using iron from Ironhold. And after that? Do you think they will stop? No. They will move East. They will split these mountains apart just to extract a single shard of Adamantite to feed their machines."

​Roland then did something that caused Rumina, standing behind him, to stare in horror. Roland placed his right hand over his heart and offered a slight bow—not as a sign of subservience to a king, but as the mark of a blood contract.

​"I know the dragons despise Aethelgard. I know you view the human kingdom as an annoying insect," Roland stated. "Thus, here is my offer. If Draconia assists House Sudrath in reclaiming Northveil and crushing the Iron Empire now, I give you my solemn vow as the representative of House Sudrath."

​Roland locked eyes with the Emperor. "In the future, should war break out between Draconia and the Kingdom of Aethelgard... the swords of Sudrath, the technology of Sudrath, and the entirety of Northreach’s resources will not stand behind King Edward. We will stand beside you. We will be the dragons’ allies in toppling those whom you loathe."

​"Brother Roland!" Rumina whispered in a tone of sheer dread. It was a declaration of high treason. If word reached the King in Sol-Regis, the entire Sudrath family would be executed as traitors to the Crown.

​Roland did not look back. His eyes remained locked on Tharazion. "This is no longer about loyalty to a weak king. This is about survival. The choice is simple, Your Majesty: Fight alongside us in the North now, or fight alone against those soulless machines when they begin to scale your gates."

​Prince Ignis stood, his face flushed with suppressed emotion. "Your argument is compelling, Roland. But you forget one vital thing. Helping the Sudraths means throwing away dragon lives for a possibility. What if we let you be consumed first, and then we destroy an Iron Empire that has been exhausted by the struggle? That is far more pragmatic for Draconia."

​Roland felt a slight tremor in his resolve. Ignis’s logic was cold and militarily sound. The corner of Roland’s lip twitched for a fraction of a second before he returned to his professional mask.

​"You are correct; that might work," Roland countered with a thin, frigid smile. "But there is one variable you have overlooked, Prince. If Sudrath falls, we will not allow our technology to fall into your hands. Before the Iron Empire breaches our final gate, I will personally ensure that every laboratory is detonated. Every scrap of data regarding the mana-purification crystals my sister desires will be reduced to ash. You will face the Iron Empire without an understanding of their technology, and without the purified crystals you need to sustain yourselves."

​Roland stared deep into Ignis’s soul. "Is Draconia prepared to face a dark future without our purification technology? Are you prepared to watch the dragon race slowly wither away from energy pollution while the machine-men continue to evolve?"

​The hall returned to silence. The mental pressure exerted by Roland was so massive that several Dragon Elders began to feel intimidated. They no longer saw a weak human, but a demon offering a bargain at the gates of hell.

​Emperor Tharazion slowly rose from his throne. His aura erupted, causing the geothermal crystal lamps in the ceiling to vibrate violently. "Enough."

​The Emperor’s voice echoed like rolling thunder. "Roland Sudrath, you are the most audacious human to have ever set foot in the Hall of the Jade Claw in a thousand years. You offer treason to your own king and threaten us with obsolescence."

​Tharazion walked down the steps of the dais, approaching Roland until they stood eye-to-eye. "However... you possess something the envoys of Sol-Regis lack. You have a fire in your eyes. The fire of a man who has no place left to retreat."

​The Emperor turned toward the council. "Elder Oros, Ignis... the news of Adamantite and floating iron cannot be ignored. If it is true they seek the ultimate fuel, then Draconia is indeed their target. We cannot allow an enemy we do not comprehend to build a nest on our doorstep."

​"But Your Majesty—" Ignis attempted to protest.

​"This session is adjourned!" Tharazion cut him off firmly. "I shall contemplate this offer of treason personally. Roland, Rumina... return to your pavilion. Do not leave the palace grounds. A final decision will be made tomorrow morning when the sun touches the highest peak of Draconia."

​Roland offered a deep, profound bow, this time with genuine respect. "I await your wisdom, Your Majesty."

​As they walked out of the hall, Rumina immediately grabbed Roland’s sleeve once they reached a deserted corridor. "Brother! What were you thinking?! Promising an alliance against Aethelgard? If Father knew, he would—"

​"Father would do the exact same thing if he were in my position, Rumina," Roland interrupted in a low, raspy voice. "We need these dragons, no matter the cost."

​Roland looked toward the darkening sky. In the distance, he could almost feel the heat from the burning ruins of Northveil. "Tomorrow, these dragons will fly toward Northreach, or we will die as traitors on this mountain. There is no middle ground anymore."

​That night, beneath the dim geothermal lights of Draconia, Roland Sudrath did not sleep. He continued to polish his plans, while the silhouette of iron giants with scalding steam haunted his waking thoughts—a grim reminder that time for House Sudrath was running out.