Chapter 61
They pressed their ears against the wooden cabinet, curious to hear more of the conversation.
“Come out.”
“Seems like the young lady is really angry? She’s calling for you, sir. Ah, how flustered you must’ve been…”
“You’re the ones I’m calling out. You, hiding and eavesdropping.”
Calicia, holding her wooden sword, lazily tapped the arms and armor display case.
“…Hahaha. I came here for training, but the mood seemed so serious, hahaha.”
“Stop joking around.”
The embarrassed knights scratched the backs of their necks and forced awkward smiles.
“Oh, by the way, in the North, do women usually grab a sword and challenge someone to a duel just because they kissed first?”
Calicia tossed the wooden sword at Ian’s feet as she asked. All the knights’ heads immediately turned toward Ian. They stared at their young master as if he had completely lost his mind.
“Or is it only your young master?”
Wiping her lips with her thumb, Calicia swirled the hem of her dress and turned around.
“…Young master!”
As soon as Calicia’s figure disappeared, the Northern knights spoke in unison, scolding Ian.
“Huh! You…”
Stammering unusually, Ian let out a heavy sigh and spun around sharply.
Rustle—rustle—
In the dark early dawn, with even the moon gone, a figure in a black cloak walked along the steep hillside carrying a fishing rod. Stopping by a well, he pulled something tangled and messy from his pocket.
“It’s time to find the path.”
His soft voice broke the silence. Pale fingers threaded a dark bundle onto the hook.
Splash—!
The fishing line stretched long into the well. From the boy’s lips came an unusually low whistle.
Wheee—
Wheee—
The calm water began to ripple slightly in response to the boy’s whistling.
Shaa—
A strange sound faintly echoed, and the stench of decay wafted up from the well. The rippling water grew rough, and the boy’s arm trembled violently.
Creak—!
The fishing rod bent sharply, and the line was drawn deep into the well.
Thud!
The boy yanked the rod with force. With a heavy sensation came the sharp stench of fish. Smiling from ear to ear, he glanced into the well. On the surface of the rippling water, a pair of pink eyes briefly reflected.
Whiiik—! A low, intense whistle echoed again by the well.
Shaa—
Soon, a decayed human head surfaced abruptly.
After morning training, Calicia dragged Ian by the wrist down the back road of the central castle.
“Where on earth are we going? Why this commotion first thing in the morning?”
Stopping mid-step on the hillside, Ian glared up at her while being pulled.
“Move it, come on!”
Calicia pulled with all her strength, though he didn’t budge an inch.
“I’m asking why we’re going.”
“Ugh, heavy. Why? Because that fool of yours won’t always be stuck in the West for a hundred, even a thousand years, and soon you’ll be going to the Academy, so we need to do this.”
Hands on her knees, Calicia bent over, panting heavily.
“Panting just from dragging me a little?”
“You have some aura on your feet, right?”
Suspiciously, Calicia glared at Ian’s legs.
“I don’t. But, Balus, are you really training properly? Your lines have thinned since a few days ago—muscle is gone…”
“Ah! Enough! Anyway, I can’t always be by your side, so we need a method, got it?!”
Shouting abruptly, Calicia marched ahead.
For a ghostly opponent, it’s better to give them a sword than a talisman.
The method she thought of was to craft a divine sword imbued with spiritual power, following advice from Ja-chungbi.
“A divine sword made by a master… uh, forget it.”
“Why trail off?”
“The explanation is long. Anyway, I’ll handle it, you just follow. Once the divine sword is made, it’s much better than a talisman. The blade itself already carries protective power.”
From a shamanic perspective, a sharp blade severs ties with spirits. Adding the prayers and blessings of a spirit-filled shaman only amplifies its power.
“Simply put… it won’t just protect you; it can cut through wandering spirits too.”
“Cut through?”
Ian glanced down, slightly clenching and unclenching his hand, eyes clouded in thought.
“Exactly. So let’s hurry.”
Calicia tugged at Ian, who seemed dazed. They continued climbing the mountain for several dozen minutes.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The heavy hammering grew closer. The two paused and looked around. Large and small structures stretched endlessly along the ridgeline. One of Balus’ prides: the Flame Forge.
“Welcome, young lady, young master. I am Morus Valek, the blacksmith who will guide you.”
The burly man in front of the forge bowed deeply. His formality indicated strict discipline from his superiors. It wasn’t every day that a direct heir with a blue flame visited, let alone accompanied by the young viscount of Rakies.
“Your back will break. Stand up.”
Calicia lightly tapped Morus’ back.
“Thank you! Though embarrassing, I’m entrusted with the Flame of Karma, one of the five great forges. I’ll do my best to ensure a comfortable visit.”
Morus brimmed with enthusiasm, aware of the opportunity to receive support from the direct heir with the blue flame.
“Is that it? Ka… flame… what was it?”
Calicia chewed on her upper lip as she surveyed the forge. It felt more like a display room than a forge, with ornate arms and armor lining every wall.
“Karma.”
Ian briefly replied, checking the condition of the swords with a skeptical look.
“Ah, right. Morus, there’s no sword I’m looking for here. How many forges are there?”
You can’t expect everything at once. As suspected, Karma’s forges couldn’t make a sword worthy of divine power. They had special techniques to embed gemstones into blades, but that wasn’t enough.
“…I’m sorry.”
Morus’ face turned grim. Such a failure could tarnish Karma’s reputation and invite mockery from rival forges.
“Don’t apologize. Just tell me how many there are.”
“Combining the unnamed forges, there are at least dozens… but if you want a legendary sword, it’s best to focus on the five major forges, young lady.”
Morus trudged forward with slumped shoulders.
“These swords contain Elinite, the metal of the elves. Excellent at conducting magic, flexible, perfect for magic knights.”
“A longsword with dragon bone powder. Its strength is unmatched, and high-level magic can be imbued…”
The blacksmiths of the five great forges presented weapons befitting their reputation. Ordinary people would have been awestruck. But none had enough effort put into them to become a true divine sword.
“That’s enough! Stop! I don’t care about dragon bones or whatever! I don’t care if it’s cheap iron! I need a sword made with genuine effort!”
“Could I ask what you mean by ‘genuine effort’?”
Morus, who had been struggling, barely restrained his rising frustration. For a blacksmith, a weapon is like a child, a masterpiece. How could they not put effort into it?
“You know that sword made by a craftsman who suddenly realized the importance of returning to his roots? With the sunset stretched across the sky, just the hammer and me in that space.”
Calicia placed her arm on Morus’ shoulder and pointed beyond the mountains.
“Get it now? A sword made with all your soul… one that feels alive?”
Morus stared blankly beyond the mountains, unconsciously grinding his teeth.
“Yes. Haha. Now I understand. You’re talking about an Ego Sword.”
“Ego Sword?”
“A sword with its own consciousness. A living sword, as you said.”
Ian gently lowered Calicia’s arm and added:
“That exists? Why didn’t you say so earlier? Where is it? Let’s go.”
“That… is difficult to make right now.”
“Why difficult?”
Calicia’s tone immediately turned sharp.
“Among present-day blacksmiths, very few can craft an Ego Sword. Of course, the West’s greatest blacksmith, Talaf, could… but…”
“Get to the point.”
“He… fell ill. I’m sorry, young lady. There is currently no way to make an Ego Sword.”
Morus bowed deeply, looking apologetic.
