Chapter 62
“Ugh… really? But why are you apologizing so much? It’s not like you made him sick. By the way, is it that serious?”
Calicia lightly tapped Morus on the shoulder.
“They say it’s a disease with no known cause. He has seizures whenever he sees sunlight, sweats like a waterfall, his whole body reeks, and he acts completely insane, like he’s possessed by a spirit—ugh!”
Morus shook his head, exasperated. He remembered Talaf thrashing about, pounding his own hands as if trying to hammer them.
“The symptoms really do look like he’s possessed.”
Standing on her tiptoes, Calicia whispered into Ian’s ear.
“Huh?”
Morus, who had been rambling about Talaf’s antics, looked dazed.
“Nothing. Never mind. But didn’t you say something about the five main forges earlier? Why did they only show us four?”
“Well, about that…”
Morus began explaining that one of the forges, called “Batar’s Flame,” was closed due to an epidemic. He insisted it wasn’t their fault, but still…
“All the symptoms are the same, so there’s no way anyone would—”
-What’s going on… something like that—
“Yeah. So… ah, ugh.”
Calicia stopped mid-sentence, pressing her ears as strange voices began to jumble together.
-Some machine, something running away—
“Ah, shut up!”
Calicia snapped, trying to focus on Morus’ explanation.
“I-I’m sorry. I talked too much.”
Morus flinched at the sudden loud voice of the princess.
“No, not you.”
Calicia waved her hand dismissively, frowning.
“Keep… talking—”
-Something about the forge spreading disease…
“Ugh, it’s annoyingly loud.”
Finally losing her patience, Calicia turned toward the source of the noise. Ian and Morus quickly followed.
“Those guys…”
Calicia stopped at another forge with a rough exterior.
[Batar’s Flame]
“…sigh.”
A disheveled man exhaled deeply under the sign.
“Why are they so noisy?”
Calicia rubbed her ears, scanning the man. The area was clean, not a single stray spirit in sight, yet the ruckus seemed to follow him. There was usually only one reason for this: the man had apparently caused quite a scandal.
“But I thought Batar’s Flame was closed? That person seems to be going in.”
Calicia pointed at the weathered sign and looked back at Morus.
“As I said, most of Batar’s blacksmiths were down with the epidemic. Production and quality are far from what they used to be, so it’s practically closed…”
Morus rambled on nervously, full of excuses.
“So it’s not actually closed… ugh.”
Once again, the ringing in her ears made Calicia grimace. The mixed voices were now even clearer.
-If only it weren’t for Talaf’s son being the top blacksmith…
Frowning deeply and concentrating on the voices, Calicia’s eyes suddenly widened.
“Talaf? That guy is the top blacksmith’s son?”
She pressed Morus for an answer.
“Eh? Y-Yes. But how did you—”
“Later.”
Calicia ignored the dazed Morus and strode forward, grabbing the shoulder of the disheveled man.
“…Huh?”
Turning him to face her, she wrinkled her nose at the faint aura emanating from him.
‘There was no spirit attached. Where is this aura coming from?’
Tilting her head, Calicia scanned the man from head to toe.
“H-Hello…?”
The man awkwardly bowed. His naive face darted nervously from side to side. A doll-like girl with silver-purple hair and red eyes—definitely a Balus. But his exact identity was unclear.
“What are you doing?! Show proper respect! This is Princess Calicia and Viscount Lacies!”
Morus rushed over and slapped the man’s arm.
“H-Huh! Princess, Viscount! I am Pale Batin, the white-clad blacksmith in charge of Batar’s Flame!”
“Enough introductions. Where are you coming from?”
Calicia leaned close to Pale.
“Eh?”
Startled, he took a step back.
“I asked where you’re coming from!”
“Eh? Ah, I’m returning after seeing my father.”
Calicia narrowed her eyes and leaned back slightly. A father suffering from seizures at sunlight and a son carrying a strange aura—this couldn’t be a coincidence.
“This really looks like possession.”
Calicia sighed and glanced at Ian.
“Lead the way.”
“Eh? Where…?”
“To the top blacksmith.”
Calicia nudged the confused Pale forward.
“Morus. From now on, Pale will guide us. Good work.”
She dismissed him.
Talaf’s house was not far from the forge. A sturdy, simple wooden house with a yard—not luxurious, but it had a certain charm.
“This is it. Modest, but…”
Pale bowed his head and opened the door for Calicia and Ian.
“Ugh!”
The three inside held their noses at the unbearable stench.
“Sorry! I aired it out earlier, but the smell didn’t go away…”
Pale hurriedly pulled the curtains aside. The Balus and Lacies nobles had likely never smelled anything but perfumes their whole lives. He really did not want to offend their sensibilities.
“My father has seizures whenever he sees sunlight.”
Pale’s shoulders hunched in apology.
“Seizures at sunlight? And… ugh!”
Calicia gagged lightly, unable to withstand the smell after a morning of activity.
“Pat, pat. Help me with my back, ugh.”
She hobbled, gesturing for Ian to pat her back.
“Are you okay?”
Ian gently patted her dry back.
Pale’s face turned an odd color, seeing the princess boss around the northern viscount so effortlessly.
“Ah, I guess I overate.”
“How much did you eat to feel like this?”
“Bacon-cheese potato soup, roast turkey, steak with asparagus, soft cream-filled…”
“Enough. You ate too much. How many times did I tell you to eat lightly before morning training?”
Ian folded his arms after patting Calicia’s back, silently expressing disapproval.
“But I was hungry! And if I don’t eat, how can I train?”
“Who said not to eat? Eat lightly. Training on a full stomach will mess up your stomach.”
“Then train lightly! I don’t understand where your conscience went… ugh!”
Calicia gagged more as the stench worsened.
“See? You’re gagging because you overate.”
Ian patted her back again, raising his eyebrows. A silent demand for her to admit defeat.
“It’s because of the aura, ugh! That’s the reason!”
“Don’t make excuses.”
“Even as you’re checking your nose—”
Calicia pushed Ian’s hand away, holding back her nausea.
“Pale! How long has it been like this with your father?”
“Uh… not exactly sure, but less than two months, I think.”
Pale snapped to attention, observing the nobles’ bickering.
“Less than two months?”
Calicia looked around the room. Peeling, moldy wallpaper and a door rotting from moisture—typical signs of a haunted house. But for mold to damage the wood in just a month or two was unusual.
“What could have attached itself to him?”
Her gaze fell on the middle-aged man, limbs tied to the bed. Sunken eyes and weak breathing—he looked almost dead.
“The sweat smells terrible. Is it even sweat?”
Calicia narrowed her eyes at his soaked clothes, drenched as if hit with water.
“Hmm…”
Her gaze swept over Talaf’s body. His once-mighty frame now emaciated, bandaged hands stained with blood.
“He injured himself badly, so there was no choice.”
Pale’s voice trembled, guilty about restraining his father.
“Good. This is better for him and others.”
Calicia gave a reassuring look and approached the bed.
Whistling sharply, she aimed to summon the malevolent spirit hidden deep within Talaf.
