Chapter 3: Resolution

The next three days were quiet. The letters between Camilo and me were perfunctory and uninteresting. In the afternoons, I took advantage of my time at the cabin to work on replenishing our inventory; in the evenings, I sparred with Diana, ate dinner, then turned in for the night. We were able to forge a fair amount of shortswords, longswords, and knives before our routine was broken on the fourth day.

That morning, I left the cabin early and headed to the forest’s edge just as I had the previous days. When I arrived, I chose a tree with a good view of the road and climbed into it. There, I sat and watched for the courier, who came as usual and hid the letter from Camilo nearby. I retrieved it and slunk back into the forest to read it, away from prying eyes.

The letter read, “Prepare for a journey to the capital tomorrow. I’ll be picking you up. Bring any smithing equipment that you deem indispensable. I’ll explain everything on the way.”

There was an urgency in the words. I figured that Camilo hadn’t come to tell me in person because he’d planned to pick me up tomorrow. It was now too late in the day for me to meet him in the city anyway.

Judging by the letter, I assumed that Camilo wanted me to forge something in the capital. As long as it was helpful to Marius’s cause, I was ready to do everything in my power as a blacksmith.

He had written to bring my “indispensable” equipment, but the only thing that was truly vital was the magical furnace. Obviously, I wouldn’t be able to lug the entire furnace to the capital, nor did I think that was quite what Camilo had in mind. Other than that, there wasn’t anything else I could think to bring.

Maybe my hammer? I have gotten used to its weight and grip... But wouldn’t my cheats help me overcome any awkwardness with new equipment?

I dashed off an affirmation, hid my responding letter, and tied the signal ribbon in the thicket nearby. Then I started back home.

Back in the cabin, I informed the other three over lunch that I would be making a journey into the capital. “I’m counting on you all to watch the house while I’m gone. I don’t know how long I’ll be away, but if it’s going to be longer than two weeks, I’ll try to make a trip back to let you know.”

“What do you want us to do about the smithing work?” Rike asked.

“Please keep working as you have been,” I instructed. “We have plenty of raw material, so there should be no problems in the short term. We have enough meat in storage too, right?”

“Yeah,” Samya confirmed. “If we run low, I can always go hunting and bring us back some more.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it. You can put a pause to the trips into the city for the time being since Camilo won’t be around anyway. We’ve taken a break before, so it won’t raise any suspicions, even if we don’t show up this week.”

“Got it.” Samya paused briefly before continuing, her voice laced with steel. “You have to come back safe, okay?”

I kept my tone light and easy. “Of course I will. And Diana, you have to promise that you won’t leave here.”

“I promise,” she said. “I’m sorry to burden you with my family’s issues.”

“I meant what I said before. Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay, I’ll try...” But her words didn’t match her demeanor. She still seemed dejected.

“Seriously, I owe your brother a favor, so I’m just paying him back,” I said, striving for cheerfulness.

Diana’s expression brightened when she heard my words, so I assumed they had an effect.

“Anyway, all of that can wait until tomorrow. As for today, there’s still work left to do!”

We finished lunch and moved to the workshop. I was the only one who could forge elite models, so I needed to make them while I had the time. My focus for the day was on elite model knives. I worked as quickly as possible, and thanks to my cheats, I was able to maintain nearly the same level of quality throughout.

I churned them out one after another. In the course of a single afternoon, I produced about twenty percent more knives than I usually made in an entire day. This amount was enough to bring to Camilo after our business in the capital was settled.

I prepared a fancy dinner that night. It felt something like a send-off party on the night before an expedition, and it was the last dinner I’d be making for some time. Starting tomorrow, someone else would have to take over dinner duty.

⌗⌗⌗

The next morning, I settled onto my perch in the tree at the forest’s border and then dug into my breakfast: a flatbread sandwich with thinly sliced cured pork. I’d packed light and wasn’t carrying much besides my usual self-defense knife; if anything happened in the capital, I didn’t want to risk having to abandon my hammer.

As I enjoyed my meal, I kept one eye on the road. Before long, I saw something off in the distance.

I wonder if that’s Camilo?

The shadowy speck grew larger and larger before it finally resolved into a horse-drawn wagon (though it was more or less just a large luggage cart pulled by horses). It was coming my way.

I scarfed down the rest of the sandwich and tried to focus on the driver’s face.

That’s definitely Camilo.

I assured myself that there was no one else around before descending the tree and remaining in the shadows, waiting for the cart to approach. The cart drew close before Camilo brought it to a stop. He disembarked and circled around to the back.

I kept alert for any unwanted visitors and then made my way up to Camilo, light and quick on my feet. “Hey!”

“Hello, Eizo.” There were no hints of surprise on his face or in his voice. “Sorry about the short notice. Get in.”

“Sure thing.” I clambered onto the back of the cart with the cargo and sat down near the driver’s seat. Camilo climbed up next to me and urged the horses to move with a flick of the reins. It wasn’t long before we were flying along at full speed.

This wagon is much faster than I gave it credit for.

“Let me give you the short version of the story,” Camilo began, yelling to be heard over the pounding of the horses’ hooves. “I need to commission a sword from you.”

“Not a problem,” I yelled back. “How fast do you need it?”

“By the end of the day. Tomorrow, if absolutely necessary. It has to be high quality.”

He’s asking for a custom model sword then.

“Can you tell me the circumstances?”

“Marius’s family—the Eimoor family—has a sword which is an heirloom treasure, and that sword was recently stolen,” Camilo explained. “Upon further investigation, it seems to have been an inside job. The culprit took advantage of an opening that few people have knowledge of. Marius suspects it was all part of Karel’s scheme.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“I’m getting to it. You see, since the heirloom was stolen under Marius’s watch, Karel’s arguing that Marius is too irresponsible to succeed the family. Karel announced that he’s investigating the robbery and is determined to recover the sword. Considering that the sword has likely been in his possession all along, it’s doubtless that he’ll succeed at his task.”

Once he was finished with his explanation, I spoke. “All right, let me recap: ‘How could you have let the heirloom be stolen? Why weren’t you guarding it more carefully? You’re not fit to be the heir. I’m going to find the sword and prove once and for all that I’m the better candidate.’ Does that sound like a fair summary of the situation?” My last question was full of sarcasm. “The whole thing stinks to high heaven. No one else finds the situation a little too convenient?”

“The circumstances reek, of course, but Karel and his retainers made sure that they were far away from the capital when the crime took place, so there’s nothing linking him to the theft. Without concrete proof, it’s all conjecture so far. Recovering the sword will be looked upon favorably. I suspect that the only reason Karel hasn’t come forward with the sword already is because it’ll look fishy if he finds it too quickly.”

Rabble-rousers and demagogues could stand to learn a thing or two from Karel and his one-man charade.

“That’s where you come into play. Marius plans to declare that the sword Karel finds is a fake.”

“Oookay. So in other words...”

I don’t like where this is going... Camilo can’t be suggesting what I think he is.

But as it turned out, Camilo could and was.

“Precisely. You’re going to forge the Eimoor family’s new heirloom sword by tomorrow.”

“W-Wait a minute. When you say ‘new heirloom sword,’ you mean that my sword is going to replace their original heirloom?” I asked incredulously.

“You got it. The stolen sword is the ‘fake,’ so obviously, the sword in Marius’s possession—the one you will be forging—must be the ‘true’ family heirloom.”

“I’m not sure how to feel about one of my swords being used for deceit.”

“The original sword may be an heirloom, but it’s not as though it’s a national treasure. It’s not a gift from the gods or made by elves. It was originally forged by human hands, so is it really so different if you make one to replace it?”

“When you put it like that...”

“Focus on the fact that you’ll be helping Marius,” Camilo said.

“I don’t know...”

I was still hesitant, but I couldn’t deny that Camilo had a point. When all was said and done, the family heirloom was nothing more than a really good sword. If I made a sword that surpassed the original, no one would question it. I could hear the commentary now. “A sword this superb is worth being passed down from generation to generation. Truly a treasure.” The prospect of such easy acceptance was a point in favor of taking on the job.

If I’d been asked to make a national treasure, or even just a sword for a family ranked higher than the Eimoors, I would likely need to exceed the limits of steel as a metal; I’d have to use rare materials or employ sublime techniques. However, a sword for a comital family could be made from high-quality steel.

It also won’t hurt to ask Marius what his family’s sword is made of...

Camilo interrupted my train of thought. “Helen showed me the swords that she commissioned from you. The quality was obvious with a single glance, even for someone like me. If you could make a sword on that same level, it would be plenty sufficient to be considered the Eimoor family heirloom.”

Aaah, those are the only custom model swords I’ve released into the world. If he’s seen them and says they’re good enough, then I should trust his judgment.

I wasn’t perfectly at peace with my decision, but I’d come this far, so I might as well see everything through.

“I’ll do it, but I have a couple of conditions,” I said. “For example, I’d prefer not to use any metal better than steel because the resulting sword might end up being too dangerous. Of course, I’ll still guarantee the quality of the final product.”

“That’s fine.” Camilo agreed without thinking twice, but then suddenly changed the subject. “Sorry, but do you see the chest over there? Can you hide yourself inside it?”

“This one?” I gestured to a chest in the back. It was certainly large, but it didn’t look big enough for me to cram into.

Camilo glanced back at me and said, “That’s the one.”

I did as I was told and lifted the lid, peeking inside. It was deeper than it looked.

Actually, it was clearly deeper than physically possible.

The chest was cleverly constructed—it was able to contain more goods than anyone inspecting it would imagine, and there was definitely enough room for a person. I clambered inside and shut the lid on top of myself.

⌗⌗⌗

I lost track of how long I sat inside the chest, but it was long enough that I was able to take a brief nap. We must’ve already traveled a long way from the forest; the roads here were well maintained and so the horses traveled much faster than a person’s walking pace. However, our journey wasn’t yet over. I had no choice but to submit myself to the rocking of the cart.

An indeterminate amount of time later, the wagon finally jolted to a stop. It sounded boisterous outside, so I deduced that we’d arrived at the entrance to the capital city.

“Next!” I could hear commands being shouted from multiple directions. It felt like I was back on Earth, standing in line at the immigration counter and waiting to enter a different country.

But really, I couldn’t be sure of our location. After all, I was stuck inside the chest.

Our cart moved forward in fits and spurts. The voices of the guards grew closer and closer. Finally, it seemed to be our turn.

“You’re a peddler?” I heard the guard ask Camilo.

“Yes. I have a variety of wares today,” Camilo responded.

“I have to inspect your goods.”

“Please, be my guest.”

Two sets of footsteps approached the luggage cart. Approached me. From the heavy treads, I assumed they were both guards. They climbed into the cart, and I heard them open the lid on the chest opposite the one where I was hiding. They worked their way around the cart, opening one chest after another.

I crouched in the dark, waiting and fearing the moment that they would discover me. My skin was cold and clammy from sweat. They came closer and closer still. And then...they left, stepping down from the cart without checking my chest.

I heard one of the guards say to Camilo, “All right, you’re good to go. Pass on through.”

“Thank you very much,” he replied politely.

The cart jolted forward again.

Once through the gates, we were immediately swallowed into the hustle and bustle of the city. The motion of the cart and the sound of its wheels against the ground changed. However, I still hadn’t gotten the okay from Camilo to leave the chest, so I didn’t deem it safe for me to emerge. I had to be careful to not make any noise.

After entering the city, we took a long route that wound around things I couldn’t see and sloped up and over hills. Occasionally, we made brief stops. A short while after one such pause, the cart halted, and this stop somehow had a feeling of finality.

We had arrived.

“You can come out now!” Camilo called.

I opened the lid and wobbled my way out of the chest. With every little movement, my body screamed, “Finally! About time...” Standing on the cargo platform, I stretched from head to toe, my spine and hips popping.

“That was rough,” I said, though, in truth, that was an understatement. If I’d been the age I used to be when I’d died, my hips would’ve been in such pain that standing would’ve been impossible.

“You have my sympathy and my apologies. I couldn’t have anyone finding out you were hiding in there.”

“I suppose I have to forgive you,” I replied with a wry smile. “So, where are we now?”

“We’re at the Eimoor family forge. The weapons used by their private soldiers are made and repaired here.”

“It sure is quiet,” I remarked. I would’ve expected to hear the clanging and banging of a water-powered trip hammer in a place like this.

“Marius put a pause on all work and sent everyone away except for his most trusted craftsmen,” Camilo explained.

“Good idea.”

Of course, he wouldn’t want a crowd here to witness me forge the “true” family heirloom.

I hopped off the back of the cart with a grunt and glanced around at our surroundings. It looked like we were in a delivery area inside the forge. There was no furnace in sight.

Outside, the sun had completed most of its journey through the sky, even though we’d set off so early in the morning. I hadn’t realized it’d gotten so late. My conception of the passage of time from inside the chest had been fuzzy. The trip had really been a long one, even by horse.

“I’ll start preparing what I need,” I said, quickly switching into business mode.

“I sent someone to tell Marius that we’ve arrived, so he should be coming around shortly.”

“Okay,” I said, nodding. Camilo gestured toward a door that presumably led farther into the forge. I walked over to it and swung it open.

Time to get started on repaying the favor of a lifetime.

The forge proper was on the other side of the door. It was fully stocked, complete with a furnace, bellows, hammers, and a smattering of other equipment. My eye was immediately drawn toward a giant hammer. When I looked closer, I realized that it was connected at the top to a water wheel outside. It was a trip hammer! If I wanted to try using it, the installed data could tell me how.

The firebed in the furnace wasn’t magical, so I had to build the fire by hand. First, I spread out a layer of charcoal and then collected the supplies I would need: bark and straw for kindling, plate metal, and a hammer.

I set the metal on an anvil and began to hammer the end of it with my full strength, flipping it over several times. In doing so, I slowly raised the temperature of the metal, and before long, it was glowing red with heat.

I covered the bark with straw and brought the hot metal into contact with the straw to light it on fire. I rushed to bring the smoldering straw over to the firebed and then placed it near the charcoal. Using the bellows, I encouraged the fire to spread onto the charcoal bed.

The charcoal soon caught fire. I fanned the flames with the bellows and fed it with more charcoal. Had I been in my own forge, this process would’ve been completed in a snap. All I would’ve had to do was provide the fuel. Then, with a small spark of magic, the fire and wind would’ve taken on lives of their own.

I’m sure that someone with more magical ability would be able to light a fire just as easily in this furnace, but I was only given the bare minimum magical ability with my reincarnation. I’d agreed to it at the time, so there was no point playing “what if” now. Besides, a powerful sorcerer was unlikely to choose a life as a blacksmith.

Once the fire was burning bright and hot, I picked out another plate of metal, the highest quality of the lot, and stuck it into the fire. Once it was glowing with heat, I transferred it to the anvil and began to hammer it out. I focused on making sure that the internal composition of the metal was uniform throughout.

Why does this feel different than usual? Is it because I’m using a different hammer? I should’ve brought mine from my workshop after all.

I put the question out of my mind and refocused on the work at hand. I was making a custom model sword, so I couldn’t let my mind wander. After the metal was the length of a longsword, I moved on to shaping—I had to reheat the metal and carefully hammer it into the correct shape.

In the end, the longsword had a lengthy, straight blade, simple but strong.

“You’re almost done,” Camilo said, appearing out of nowhere.

“With the shaping at least,” I replied.

I thrust the sword back into the firebed to heat it up again and prepare it for quenching. Using the bellows, I nudged the temperature of the sword higher and higher until I judged it to be perfect, at which point I swiftly withdrew it from the flames and plunged it into ice-cold water.

After the blade had cooled and hardened to a sufficient degree, I held it aloft above the firebed, allowing the flames to gently lick along the sword. My goal was to warm the metal only slightly before letting it cool completely. Finally, I ground the blade’s edges until they were razor sharp and then polished the entire length of the sword.

Just like that, my work was complete.

Or...not?

“Something feels off,” I said out loud, feeling troubled.

“What’s wrong?” Camilo asked with concern. “Aren’t you done?”

“Well...I am, but the finish of the sword isn’t quite right.”

I got it! It’s missing the luster that my custom blades usually have. At best, this sword is only an elite model, albeit on the higher end of the spectrum.

It was impressive that I could make such a high-quality product in the short time that I had (thank you, cheats), but considering that I’d been aiming for a sword that was good enough to supersede a family treasure, I was a little disappointed at the outcome.

“As far as I can tell, the craftsmanship is superb,” Camilo stated.

“No, this isn’t good enough.”

Just like my own workshop, Marius’s forge had a stock of firewood. I took one log and set a bundle of straw on top of it. Holding the longsword I’d just forged, I took up a stance in front of the log, raised the blade, and slashed through the straw bundle in one go. The straw fell apart with a gentle rustle, and the sword itself bit deep into the wood.

Camilo was astonished. “What are you talking about? The sword is beautifully sharp.”

“But it could be sharper,” I rebutted.

I knew better than anyone else how sharp my custom blades could be. This sword was only an elite model.

To demonstrate, I took out my own knife and repeated the same experiment with the straw and log. That knife sliced clean through both.

That’s what should’ve happened if the longsword was a proper custom model.

“W-What just happened?” Camilo stuttered, astonished by the demonstration.

“See? When I go all out, this is the quality I expect my blades to be.”

“I-Is that so?” He drew back unconsciously.

Helen must’ve only shown him what the swords looked like, not what they could do.

“I ask you not to tell anyone else,” I said.

“Sure,” Camilo replied. “No one would believe me anyway.”

“Yes, there is that.”

The straw was one thing, but the log would be a hard sell...

“I’ll try forging a few more,” I said.

“What are you going to do with this one?”

“If you want it, you can have it,” I told him. “I’ll even give you a discount.”

Camilo grinned. “As enterprising as always, Master Blacksmith.”

After our exchange, I experimented by making two more knives. Neither of them surpassed elite model quality. The metal didn’t shine the way I wanted it to.

Elite models did have a sheen to them, but it was nothing compared to the luster of a custom model.

Am I overthinking this? I swear the ones I’ve made before glowed in comparison. How do I make the raw metal from Marius’s stores shine the way mine does?

Out of the blue, the realization struck me like a bolt of lightning. “I’m asking the wrong questions!”

If I can’t pull out custom model quality from the materials I have on hand, then all I have to do is make better materials!

I built the heat back up in the firebed and dismantled my personal custom model knife. I then stuck the naked metal of the blade into the fire until it glowed red hot. From there, I removed the knife from the heat and cut it into three pieces. I sandwiched these pieces in between alternating layers of Marius’s plate metal, wrapped the whole thing in wet hemp cloth, piled some ashes from the burning straw on top of the bundle, and finally, stuck the whole thing into the firebed.

Once heated through, I pulled the glowing lump of metal from the fire and hammered it out, working to blend the material from my former knife with the new plate metal. Once again, my cheats proved to be indispensable.

Heat it up, hammer it out. Heat it up, hammer it out. After repeating these two steps over and over again, I moved on to elongating the metal. However, I wouldn’t be hammering it out to longsword-length just yet.

I elongated it to an intermediate size. Then, I scored the middle of the metal down its length and folded the two halves together before hammering again. All in all, I folded the metal fifteen times. This folding technique was a traditional swordsmithing technique in Japan, and the repeated overlapping of the metal would help blend my disassembled knife’s steel evenly with the plate steel.

I reheated the mixed-metal bundle one last time before I tried to elongate it to the length of a longsword blade. Simultaneously, I hammered the metal carefully, aiming to remove any remaining imperfections. The steel sang under my machinations, and I felt none of the unease I’d experienced with the previous sword.

Once the metal was the right length and perfectly even, I started shaping. This work too was a cycle of heating and hammering, but I had to focus and prevent reintroducing any warpage to the metal.

The blade took on a different shape from the first one I had made—rather than being rigid and straight, this sword’s edge curved gracefully.

I hadn’t thought about it before, but I would have to adorn the sword later. A family heirloom should be splendid and ornate.

Quenching, tempering, polishing, and grinding. I ran through the final steps to complete the longsword. Once finished, I took a long, hard look at the final blade. It gleamed exactly the way that custom models were supposed to.

I set up the log and straw test once more and swung the longsword casually down onto the straw. The blade cut straight down to the floor, slicing through the straw and log like butter; the halves split apart and everything collapsed.

I was now done with the body of the sword, and it would certainly hold its own in a clash against another sword. However, plain as it was, it was still far from deserving the status of an heirloom.

I borrowed a chisel (of course, everything else I’d used had also been borrowed). My cheats helped me to preserve the balance of the sword and the strength of the metal as I carved a design into the blade. I followed the curve of the blade and etched a delicate pattern of vines, stems, and leaves. At the very tip of the blade, I added a flower in full bloom. Thanks to my cheat abilities, the work proceeded smoothly, even though I hadn’t even made a draft of the design. However, it took quite a while to carve the pattern into both sides of the sword.

Well, there’s no use rushing it. If I don’t do this properly now, it’ll ruin all the work I’ve put in so far. It’s going to be the treasured heirloom of a noble family, after all, so it deserves the royal treatment.

At last, the blade was finished.

Next came the cross guard and pommel. I decorated the guard with a plant motif as well; I wanted the design to appear three-dimensional, and the vines and leaves twining across the surface of the metal seemed to come alive beneath my chisel. In the center of the guard, I added the crest of the Eimoor family, and on the pommel, I carved a delicate flower bud.

I couldn’t forget my insignia: the fat cat sitting on its haunches. This time I carved a smaller version of it into the hilt, where it would be hidden once I wrapped the hilt with leather. It was my own little Easter egg!

I went over the length of the sword one more time with a rasp, smoothing over any sharp bits and burrs that’d been left over from the carving. The design now stood out in vivid relief.

Once that was completed, I decided to stop for the night. It had grown late before I realized it, and a powerful drowsiness was tugging on my consciousness. Sleepy as I was, it would be meaningless to continue working. I knew that this was par for the course when growing older though, so there was no use resisting.

After extinguishing the fire, I found some blankets in the forge, wrapped myself up in them, and went to sleep right there on the floor.

⌗⌗⌗

“—ke up. Wake up already.”

My body was being rocked side to side. I groaned and peeled open my eyes.

Camilo was the one who had been shaking me. “I was worried that you’d fallen into a depression after not being able to forge the sword, but here you are, sleeping without a care in the world!”

“All-nighters are bad for your health,” I drawled without getting up. Since I’d finished the sword yesterday, I had time to relax.

Then, a voice different from Camilo’s but equally familiar chimed in. “One’s health is an investment in and of itself.”

I scrambled to my feet. “Marius!”

The man I’d come to know from our interactions at the entrance of the city was now standing before me, a wide grin splashed across his face. He had eschewed his battered leather armor for an elegant ensemble befitting a noble. However, I did recognize the shortsword strapped across his waist as one of my own making. I was tickled at the sight, if not a little embarrassed.

“I’m pleased to see you again, Eizo,” Marius greeted me courteously. Despite his smile, a cloud seemed to loom across his face, anxiety from his family’s crisis painted across his features.

Huh? Wait a second.

I found myself responding more formally than usual. “I hadn’t realized you knew my name, Marius.”

“I asked for it when I knew I wanted to request you for this favor. It would be discourteous of me to embroil someone in my family’s circumstances without even knowing his name.”

“Understood,” I said. “But you don’t have to speak to me so formally, Marius. Please, act like you always have, as if this were just another meeting in the city.” His newfound politeness made me uncomfortable, and our conversation felt more stilted than usual.

“I cannot. You are the Eimoor family’s salvation.”

Why do you always have to be so exacting, Marius? Let’s overlook the trivial details, shall we?

“Your concern is appreciated but unnecessary. I’ve been on the receiving end of a few favors from you as well.”

Marius grinned. “All right then, as an acknowledgment of both our positions, why don’t we both dispense with the formalities,” he suggested.

Tit for tat. Either I agree here or we end up speaking circles around each other until the end of eternity.

“I agree with your proposal... I mean, yeah, I’d be happy to.”

Thus was born the legend of the blacksmith who can speak casually with the (likely) next head of the Eimoor countship.

“If you’ve got the time, will you wait while I wrap the hilt of the sword with leather?” I asked.

“Sure, I have some free time,” Marius responded.

I nodded and got to work. In hardly any time at all (thanks again to my cheats), I had the grip wrapped up snug and tight.

“All right. I’m done. Give it a try.”

“Okay then, give it here.” I passed him the sword, and he inspected it carefully. “It’s splendid,” he said, voice tinged with admiration.

He seemed mesmerized and did nothing but look for several long minutes. Then, snapping back to the present, he got into position and began to flow through a fighting sequence. His swordsmanship was sharp and clean, and I could see Diana’s form in his. They most likely learned the same school of swordsmanship. However, where Diana’s style emphasized speed—perhaps because she was a woman—Marius’s emphasized power, full of explosive thrusts and brutal swings.

Once he was satisfied, he came to a stop.

“How does it feel?” I asked him.

“Superb. Absolutely brilliant. It’s better than any sword I’ve wielded up until now,” Marius gushed. I could sense the heart and sincerity behind his words.

“I made this sword with nearly all of my abilities, so I have faith that it won’t lose out to your run-of-the-mill family treasure.”

Whoops, I almost forgot. There’s one important question I needed to ask Marius.

“By the way, what material was the original heirloom sword made of?”

The sword I’d made was, without a doubt, outstanding, but it was still made of steel. It wouldn’t stand a chance against even a subpar sword made of metals imbued with magic, such as orichalcum or adamantite.

“The ‘fake’ sword in my brother’s possession was bequeathed to the Eimoor family when we became a countship. The king commissioned the sword from the most skilled blacksmith in the country at the time. He had requested that the sword be made of a godly metal, but alas, it was not to be for a mere human to interfere with the divine.”

“So...it was made of normal steel,” I summarized.

“Precisely.”

Phew. That’s one hurdle cleared. It was impossible for a normal human to handle orichalcum, after all. But I’m not normal, so...

“One more thing. Have you shown the heirloom to people in the past?”

“It’s been brought out before during important family ceremonies, but otherwise, it’s forbidden to remove it from the premises. Even in the records, it’s only referred to as a sword bequeathed by the king to the count.”

“Then it’s unlikely that a third party would notice a discrepancy between the appearance of this sword and the original one. Shouldn’t cause too much commotion, right?”

“That’s right,” Marius affirmed.

Looks like our plan is still sound.

I’d been worried that the “true” heirloom sword had been on display at a place similar to a natural history museum back on Earth, but it seemed like that sword had been treated as a ceremonial object and not often shown to the public.

“Worst comes to worst, a direct comparison of the two swords will settle the question of which one is the ‘true’ heirloom. That is, as long as our sword doesn’t lose to the ‘fake’ sword,” Marius said with a confident grin.

“Now that everything’s settled, I still have to make the scabbard,” I said.

“Too right. A sword must have a scabbard,” Camilo replied.

If this had been a normal longsword, I could’ve slapped a scabbard together without a second thought, but this time, I had to make a scabbard worthy of a family treasure.

“I don’t know how long you intend to pass this sword off as your family’s heirloom, but it certainly isn’t suitable to present a naked blade.”

“Can you finish it by tomorrow?” Marius asked.

“If I give it my all, I can finish tonight.”

“You don’t have to make anything over-the-top. The ‘fake’ sword’s scabbard isn’t anything extra extravagant,” explained Marius.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Thanks, I’m counting on you.” With those last words, Marius and Camilo both left the forge. The next time I saw them, I’d deliver the completed commission.

Let’s get this show back on the road.

The foundation of the scabbard would be wood, I decided. I selected a well-worn plank of wood from the stock, my cheats helping guide my judgment. The age of the wood wouldn’t match up with the supposed age of the sword, but we could say that the scabbard had to be remade recently. That excuse wouldn’t work half as well if I was dealing with a national treasure or a divine weapon.

To start, I placed the sword on top of the wood so that I could gauge the dimensions. I prepared two planks of wood and carved the shape of the sword into each. Then, I glued the two halves together to form the hollow where the sword would rest.

For the next couple of steps, I used one of the test knives I’d made the previous day. First, I carved out the outer surface of the scabbard. For decoration, I chiseled a single vine with sprouting leaves running down the middle of the wood. I then tidied up the woodwork, using the knife as a substitute for a wood plane.

Next, I applied a layer of beeswax, a rather lavish material, over the entire scabbard with a piece of cloth. It wouldn’t do to skimp over what was meant to be a family treasure. Rubbing in the beeswax took some time, but I didn’t rush.

With the woodwork complete, I moved on to the metalwork.

I lit the forge and heated a small plate of metal, which I hammered out into a long and thin strip. Then, I wrapped the resulting strip of steel around the opening of the scabbard. This could’ve been a long process, filled with the trial and error of me figuring out the exact shape and length that the metal needed to be. However, thanks to the cheats, I got it correct in one try. After mounting the metal strip, I used a chisel to engrave the steel with the same leaf motif.

The sun was setting by the time I’d finished. I had been working on the scabbard for nearly the entire day; Camilo had woken me up early in the morning and he and Marius hadn’t stayed to chat for very long. Of course, if I hadn’t possessed the benefit of my cheats, the work might’ve taken me a whole month. Who knows? Scabbards seemed simple to make, but just like anything else, they required time and effort.

I slid the sword into the scabbard experimentally. It turned out quite well, if I do say so myself. The final product was just the right amount of ornate and sophisticated, and it certainly wouldn’t lose out to the sword in Karel’s possession, the “fake.”

I chuckled to myself with delight. Just as I was patting myself on the back, Camilo and Marius returned.

“How’s it going? No way you’re going to say you need more time, right?” Camilo joked.

He doesn’t seem even remotely concerned that I might not have finished. I was both pleased and somewhat self-conscious of the faith he had in me.

“Actually, I finished right before you arrived.” I presented the finished sword to the two of them. “What do you think?”

Marius whistled in admiration. “The ‘fake’ won’t hold a candle to this one.” He was beaming with pleasure.

“Good. I’m glad,” I replied a little curtly. I was happy to hear my work praised, but mixed in with my happiness was a hefty dose of embarrassment as well.

“Thank you so much, Eizo.”

“Don’t mention it. I’m just paying back the favor.”

Marius extended his right hand toward me. I gripped it and shook it firmly.

“It’s time for you to get some rest,” Camilo cut in. “I’ll come pick you up again tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” I said.

There was a part of me that wanted to slip away in the middle of the night and go home, but the outer gates were probably shut for the evening anyway. We would also be less likely to raise any suspicions tomorrow since we would be mixed in with the crowd.

And so, I decided to follow Camilo’s suggestion and turn in for the night.

⌗⌗⌗

I woke up the next morning well before Camilo came to collect me. There was a jug full of water in the building, and I used it to wash my face before packing up what little I’d brought in preparation for our journey home. The one thing I made sure to bring along was one of the failed experimental knives. It would serve as a replacement for my self-defense knife that I’d sacrificed and would make due until I had a chance to forge another custom model knife back in my own workshop.

Camilo and Marius didn’t come until the sun was high in the sky, and when they arrived, they weren’t alone. Several women trailed after them.

What’s going on?

Camilo was all smiles. “Morning. Sleep well?”

“Y-Yeeeah,” I said, confused. “I got up bright and early.”

Sleeping in, let’s say, less-than-ideal conditions was a superpower I’d picked up from my previous life. Back then, I had to frequently sleep sitting up, so I wasn’t particular about where I dozed off anymore.

“I don’t mean to rush you, but can you change into these?” Marius gestured to a set of extravagant clothing that the women were laying out.

My confusion grew twofold. “Say again?”

What’s the point of changing into such a fancy outfit right before I go home?

Leaving me to stew in my bewilderment, Marius turned to the women. “He’s not accustomed to this type of clothing. Help him get dressed,” he ordered.

The women nodded and moved to surround me.

“H-H-Hold on a minute!” My voice rose in proportion to my panic. “Why do I have to change?!”

The women were unfazed by my outburst. They were focused on carrying out their orders to...strip me naked.

I pushed at the clothing they were shoving toward me, trying to buy time so I could get an answer from Marius or Camilo. The two of them were no help whatsoever and merely returned my plea for help with devious grins.

Not wanting to damage the clothing by clutching the fabric too tightly, I briefly eased up on my hold. But the women recognized an opening when they saw one and jumped at the opportunity. In a flash, they’d divested me of all my clothing, leaving me buck naked but for my underpants.

Now I have no choice but to let them dress me. I can’t deny that I wouldn’t know how to put on formal attire...

I gave up resisting and waited patiently as they slipped the garments onto me. In reward for my obedience, they had me clothed again in short order.

The outfit’s design resembled the one that Marius was wearing—suitable for nobility. Camilo’s ensemble was also more luxurious than his usual clothing, though I had been too caught up to notice earlier.

“Now will you explain? What’s the point of making me change?” I grumbled. “You’re not taking me home today after all, are you?”

The three of us were now in a carriage and making our way to an undisclosed destination. I was sitting stiffly in fancy new clothes that I had (been forcibly) changed into.

Marius didn’t bother hiding his amusement at my discomfort. “You’ll be accompanying us for the final showdown between my elder brother and myself.”

My face refused to unwrinkle and I feared that my displeased expression was now permanent. The one saving grace was that Samya and Rike weren’t here to see me. They’d never let me live it down...

Camilo took over with his talent for sweet talking. “Easy, no need to look so angry. Don’t you want to see the ‘fake’ sword for yourself?”

“I don’t not want to see it...” I was forced to admit.

After all, this was a treasure bequeathed to the Eimoors by His Majesty the King himself. Was it any surprise that I was interested? The sword was sure to be exquisite.

“Because of me, both of you are already involved, and I hope you’ll stand by me to the end. I know it’s selfish, but please, grant me this one request,” Marius said.

I honestly had no reason to refuse. However, there was one point I was unwilling to concede until I got a satisfactory answer. “Just riddle me this—why did I have to change?”

“If you’ll allow me to be blunt, it is unthinkable that a mere blacksmith should be allowed to attend today’s meeting,” Marius answered. “I don’t personally agree with such classist thinking, but it is not up to me. That’s why I had you change.”

He kept speaking, expanding on his explanation. “Eizo, you’ll be attending as my guest visiting from the north. Karel won’t be coming alone either, so there’s no problem with me bringing a guest or two. In fact, Karel wants third-party witnesses to be present when he announces that he’s recovered the family heirloom. For that reason, Camilo is allowed to attend as well; Karel will want to take advantage of the traveling merchant’s information network to spread the news of his triumph. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have permitted a ‘lowly peddler’ to attend either.”

“I get it now.”

“Lowly peddler” was clearly Karel’s phrasing. For a noble who was next in line to succeed a countship, Marius was quite progressive.

His perspective must’ve been influenced by his job as a city guard where he encountered people from all walks of life.

After listening to Marius’s explanation, I could also understand the thinking behind allowing a merchant in but not a blacksmith. Like he’d said, it was down to the dissemination of information.

“Well, all of those carefully laid plans are going to backfire on him,” I commented.

“You got it. That’s the idea.”

I, a third-party “noble,” and Camilo, a proxy for the merchant’s network, would indeed bear witness to the events of today, but the news we’d be spreading was of Karel’s downfall. Karel’s allies would also end up as the bearers of bad news, contrary to what Karel was planning. I hoped, without any real expectation, that he would accept his defeat with grace.

The carriage soon brought us to a grand estate.

Is this the main residence of the Eimoor family?

Marius answered my unspoken question. “This is the secondary estate of Lord Menzel.”

The name wasn’t familiar, but luckily, Camilo solved that problem for me. “Lord Menzel is a margrave,” he said. In other words, he was one rank higher than a count.

“Quite an impressive place we’ve ended up in,” I said.

“Lord Menzel is younger than my father was, but they were close friends,” Marius explained. “Because of their relationship, we’ve requested that he arbitrate this matter.”

I see. A margrave would also have a direct line to the king.

We disembarked from the carriage. A courteous young man—a servant, perhaps—led us to a spacious room in the manor. The three of us were the first to arrive.

Marius took a seat, and Camilo and I sat ourselves next to him. I didn’t know anything about the rules of etiquette in this world, but it seemed that the customary sitting order was the same as it had been in Japan.

Marius kept the “true” heirloom sword at his side, tightly wrapped in cloth.

After a short while, three men entered the room. One of the newcomers shared similar features with Marius and was grinning broadly, broadcasting confidence.

My bet’s on him being Karel.

If I hadn’t heard anything about him, I wouldn’t have suspected he’d be capable of treachery. On the contrary, he gave off the impression of a bright young man. Perhaps he had been once.

It’s a shame that he’s been blinded by greed.

Karel’s two companions both looked important and wealthy. The three of them sat down across from us.

I had been chatting with Marius and Camilo before they came in, but we cut off conversation the moment they walked through the door. The six of us sat in silence and waited until the last (and most consequential) person arrived. He was a man clothed in an elaborate ensemble who looked to be in the prime of his life. His body was solidly built, and he sported neatly cropped hair and a mustache.

And that must be Lord Menzel.

We all rose to our feet. The margrave seated himself at the place of honor and gestured for us to sit.

The margrave turned first toward Karel’s side of the room. “Am I correct to say that we are here today because Master Karel has recovered the stolen Eimoor family’s heirloom sword?” His voice, deep and resounding, perfectly matched his image. If he were to raise his voice in anger, no doubt he would leave his opponent trembling.

Karel answered in a loud but clear voice. “Yes, I managed to recover the sword yesterday from a band of thieves near the country’s border.” He took out a long, cloth-wrapped package, and inside was presumably the fabled sword.

When the blade was revealed, I saw that the scabbard was simple and unadorned, just as Marius had said. The grip and cross guard were similarly humble in design, but it was still clear that the sword had been forged by a blacksmith of skill.

“And for what purpose have you requested my presence today?” the margrave inquired of Karel. “The missing sword has been recovered. There can be no better outcome. All that is left is for Master Marius to take up the title of Count Eimoor, no? Has the incident not been resolved to a satisfactory conclusion?” I couldn’t tell whether his curt tone was because he didn’t have a good impression of Karel or because that was just his personality.

Karel spared a brief glance at Marius before rebutting the margrave’s words. “To be frank, Your Grace, it has not. My brother did not lift a finger when our family’s heirloom was robbed from us. He does not deserve to succeed the countship.”

Let the games begin.

The margrave considered Karel’s argument, which was not without sense. The family treasure, a sword of immeasurable value, had been stolen. The person who was to head a high-ranking noble family could not be the kind of person who panics and does nothing.

With rank and title came a host of responsibilities. In particular, the count would be responsible for the livelihoods of all the people who lived in his countship and, as such, must be able to handle any difficult situations that arose. This time around, Marius hadn’t lived up to the task.

Of course, that was only supposing the heirloom had actually been stolen, but this wasn’t the case.

Nevertheless, there was no concrete proof that the theft was a farce. I suspected that Karel had already disposed of the bandits he’d hired. If so, it wouldn’t be a lie to say that Karel had located the lair of the bandits who’d stolen the sword, dealt with them swiftly, and retrieved the family’s heirloom. On the surface, everything lined up.

However, we had an ace up our sleeve. Our plan was not without its risks, but Karel was in for a surprise.

Marius opened his mouth to speak. “May I interject?”

“You may. Go ahead,” the margrave said.

“It may have appeared that I was dragging my feet, but such was not the case—in truth, the stolen sword is a fake. The true heirloom has been in my possession all along, and knowing that, I thought it sufficient to pursue the bandits at our own pace. I see now that my actions have raised doubts as to whether or not I cared enough to act at all, and I am reflecting on my choices. However, I hope you will grant that my hesitation concerned the pace of the investigation, not my capability to perform it. It was only a matter of time before I settled the incident.”

The margrave merely lifted one eyebrow. “Go on.”

“I have the true heirloom with me here today.” Marius brought out the cloth-wrapped sword and slowly undid its bindings, revealing the “true” sword, made by me, in its scabbard.

There was a loud clatter. I turned toward the other side of the room to see that Karel had risen to his feet in a fit of passion.

“Master Karel, calm yourself,” the margrave rebuked.

Karel reluctantly took a seat. I glanced at his two companions, one of which wore a look of astonishment while the other looked pained. The former likely hadn’t been told the full story. The latter...well, he should work on his poker face. I could tell he was a noble by his luxurious clothes, so he should know better than to wear his heart on his sleeve. He would end up dead someday if he continued his foray into scheming and intrigue, but his weakness was currently a boon for us.

The margrave pressed Marius for further details. “What do you mean by ‘true’ heirloom?”

“Yes, my lord, let me elaborate. Our father left a document, which explained everything. The sword presented for ceremonial use is not the ‘true’ heirloom of the Eimoor family. A fake one is usually brought out instead. According to the document, the real heirloom is only intended to be used in times of true calamity. If ever the country finds itself in a crisis, the head of the family will bring the sword into battle.”

Marius withdrew from his pocket a piece of paper—it looked like it could be vellum—and handed it to the margrave.

He scanned its contents. “This is indeed Count Eimoor’s handwriting,” the margrave mused.

Karel sat wide-eyed.

What did you expect? There’s no way Marius would whip out a sloppy forgery in a situation like this.

The person who’d forged the document must be skilled if they were able to fool the eyes of a longtime friend. I suspected that Camilo was the one who’d orchestrated this part of the plan. I peeked over at Camilo, and he shot me a quick wink.

A geezer has no business winking at another geezer!

Karel looked like he had something to say, but Marius was quicker to the punch. “By the time I’d discovered this document, my elder brother had already departed on his quest. I haven’t been able to arrange an audience with him until today. It is my sincere regret that I was unable to pass the information to him before this.” Marius bowed his head in a show of contrition.

Karel had been slowly rising in his seat, but he sat back down again. He must’ve been suspicious, but there were no obvious holes in Marius’s story.

“Well, Master Karel? Have you any complaints? Otherwise, I shall report today’s proceedings as is to His Majesty.” Whether intentional or not, the margrave’s proclamation must’ve seemed like a death sentence to Karel.

It might not have been the outcome he’d desired, but as it was, Karel could now make off scot-free. Swept away by his youthful ardor, he had single-mindedly gone off in pursuit. A commendable proactive attitude. He may not inherit the family title, but as far as I could tell, this was the best outcome he could hope for. He would even have a chance to run and hide away before Marius further investigated the cause behind their father’s and eldest brother’s deaths.

But Karel was not content to let the matter lie. “I cannot easily swallow this...this tale that the sword in my possession is a fake while my brother’s is true.”

By arguing the point, he’d sealed his fate. It was as if he’d moved his king piece in front of Marius’s pawn.

Marius was unfazed. “I understand. Let me prove it to you then.” I knew his blasé attitude was a sign of his unshakable faith in me, but I wished he’d cut me some slack.

“What are you proposing?” the margrave asked.

“It would be fastest to test the swords directly. May we borrow your garden?”

“Of course. Master Karel, do you assent?

“I do,” Karel said.

Everyone stood to move outside. Karel was no longer bothering to hide his animosity and was now openly glaring at Marius. On the other hand, Marius conducted himself with grace and remained calm and collected.

The test was to be conducted in the courtyard. Both parties brought their respective “heirloom” with them, but there would be no duel.

Once in the courtyard, the sword I’d made was planted in the soil. Sticking out of the ground like it was, I couldn’t help thinking that someone was going to declare, “Anyone who draws this sword out from the earth will be crowned king!” It was a ridiculous thought because, after all, I’d made the sword with my own hands.

A young soldier in the margrave’s private employ approached the sword with a spear in hand. He would test the make of the sword by thrusting the spear at the naked blade. If the sword was damaged, it would be deemed a fake.

I could tell with just a glance that the spearhead wouldn’t be able to scratch my sword with one, ten, or even fifty thrusts. Although my blade was only made of steel, it certainly wouldn’t lose to a spear of that quality.

And just as I had anticipated...

The soldier thrust sharply at the sword I’d made. He continued striking until the spearhead gave out, about twenty times total. Just as I’d expected, the “true” sword’s surface remained pristine.

“Impossible...” Karel muttered under his breath, disbelieving.

He wasn’t wrong. It was impossible for Marius to have commissioned a sword of such high caliber in the span of a mere two days. That was, of course, if he’d asked a normal blacksmith.

The margrave was equally astounded and paid the sword the highest of compliments. “A sword truly befitting the king’s tastes. It’s resplendent in both beauty and strength.”

Marius saw his opening and quickly chimed in, “Exactly right, Your Grace. There can be no other sword worthy of being deemed the true family heirloom.” He didn’t fail to put a subtle emphasis on the word “true.”

Well, my sword passed the test. Now what about the “fake”?

“Next is Master Karel’s sword.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” Karel planted his sword in the earth.

“Bring out a new spear!” the margrave commanded.

However, Marius interjected before the guards could move. “There will be no need for that.” He stepped forward and swung the “true” sword at Karel’s “fake” one. My sword sliced deep and soundlessly into Karel’s metal blade. Marius pulled the sword out from the body of its brethren, and the “fake” fell apart in two pieces. The upper half hit the ground with a clang, breaking the silence.

“Strength, durability, sharpness. My sword excels in all three. There can be no mistaking my blade’s superiority.” Marius proclaimed his victory with a smile, turning toward the margrave. “Is Your Grace satisfied with this conclusion?”

The margrave looked like he was still processing what had just happened, but he couldn’t very well deny the sight he’d witnessed with his own eyes. “Yes...I do suppose so. Any warrior who has the good fortune of wielding this sword in battle could single-handedly slay a thousand foes. There is no doubt in my mind that your sword is the true heirloom.”

The margrave’s astonishment didn’t prevent him from declaring a winner, and after a moment, he seemed to regain his footing. “The inheritance of the countship shall proceed as it is recorded. I shall report today’s events to His Majesty. Are we in agreement, Master Marius and Master Karel?”

With this, the issue is settled. I want to get out of these clothes and go home ASAP.

Alas, it wasn’t over just yet.

In an instant, Karel launched himself toward Marius with a scream. A knife gleamed in one of his hands. My cheat abilities allowed me to track his movements with ease, but I was too far away to jump into the fray. However, in that instant, I saw more movement out of the corner of my eye.

Marius leaped forward with shocking speed, wielding my sword in his right hand. Without a trace of hesitation, he sliced Karel open from the right shoulder to the opposite hip, cleaving and separating his brother’s torso from his legs. Karel’s upper half fell away from Marius and crashed to the ground with a dull thud.

Marius turned toward the margrave, sank down on one knee, and bowed his head in supplication. “Your Grace, you have my sincerest apologies for sullying your garden. Please punish me for my transgression as you see fit.”

The problem of the garden was a simple one to fix; only the soil in the immediate area needed to be replaced. However, Marius was referring to more than the stains on the soil.

But despite the tragedy that had transpired, the margrave wasn’t angry. In fact, he smiled. “Don’t trouble yourself over it. You dispatched a traitor with expediency and skill, Lord Marius.”

The margrave’s use of “lord” instead of “master” was proof that he’d accepted Marius’s claim to the countship; his condemnation of Karel as a traitor meant that he no longer considered Karel to be a member of the Eimoor family. In this private setting, the margrave had expressed his true feelings.

“You’ve witnessed a most embarrassing moment in our family history. You must let me repay you,” Marius said with his head still bowed.

“I will remember you said that, Lord Marius,” the margrave replied with a sharp nod. He then turned his attention to Karel’s allies. “You two!”

“Y-Yes, Your Grace?” one stuttered out.

“H-How may I be of service?” said the other.

They both looked utterly lost. Unlike the three in our party, these two hadn’t come into the situation knowing what was going to happen, and the cards had fallen well outside of their expectations.

“You will not tell a single soul what transpired here today. I need not tell you what will happen if you do, yes?” The margrave offered his threat in a lofty and menacing tone.

The two of them folded with no resistance—not that I’d expected any from them—and nodded furiously. They were practically shaking in fear, the poor things.

“Good.”

The margrave called out for a servant to lead Karel’s allies away. I was sure that those two were grateful to be dismissed. The rest of us left the courtyard and headed back to the room we’d started in. The servants would clean up the bloody aftermath.

As we exited the courtyard, Marius turned to look upon the body of his brother one last time. The glance was fleeting, but his eyes looked, to me, as if they were filled to the brim with sorrow.

We returned to the room where the margrave and Marius would presumably be discussing the path ahead. Camilo and I had no reason to stay, and the margrave was ready to dismiss us. However, Marius had a different idea.

“Your Grace, I beg your permission to allow these two men to stay. I am terribly sorry that I cannot tell you the full circumstances, but they have the right to see this affair to its end,” he insisted. The margrave agreed, and so Camilo and I remained.

The actual discussion had been too lengthy to record, but it could be summarized as follows: Marius would succeed the countship and take on the mantle of the Eimoor family within the week. There wouldn’t be a large, public ceremony, but there would be a private banquet. I’d let Diana know as soon as I returned home. I’d also have to remember to consult Marius and Camilo later.

Then, there was the matter of Karel. The plan was to sneak his corpse back to the Eimoor estate and bury him in the family graveyard. The story that would be leaked to the public was that Karel had left the country and was traveling the world to accumulate the knowledge and skills necessary to support Marius in the future. Furthermore, he would be keeping a low profile and hiding his identity in order to blend in and earn the trust of the townspeople. Other countries would be told that they shouldn’t look out for him or show him any special treatment; the usual hospitality shown to a member of a count’s family would not be necessary. They could also rest assured that Karel was not a spy.

It was up to each country’s discretion whether or not they believed the story. As far as the king was concerned, the time and effort they’d waste to verify the story was a benefit in and of itself. If I were to compare it to my job back on Earth, investigating the truth would be the equivalent of frittering away man-hours.

And so, the discussion brought this tumultuous chapter of the Eimoor family to a close.

“I’m in your debt, Your Grace,” Marius said.

“And I, you,” the margrave responded.

They stood and shook hands, placing the final stamp on the deal.

I stood up to leave, trying to prevent the impatience I was feeling from showing on my face. But out of the blue, the margrave addressed me. “Lord Marius’s honored guest, tell me, have you previously studied the art of the sword?” His piercing gaze pinned me in place.

My heart was beating out of my chest, but I managed to say, “No, not to any real extent.”

I was just starting to relax now that the ordeal with Karel was over. Couldn’t he have asked me any other time?

“The one who reacted first to Karel’s movements was you, so I was positive that you had trained in swordsmanship.”

“I have picked up a few tricks with the sword here and there for self-defense, but I would hesitate to call it swordsmanship.”

The margrave’s eyes narrowed further and the weight of his gaze grew heavier still. “If you insist, I will not press further. For now. Should the opportunity arise in the future, I would like to spar with you.”

“I should not refuse, Your Grace, but please spare me. I could not live up to your expectations.” I bowed my head. My skin had broken out into a cold sweat.

Without another word, the margrave turned, chuckling to himself as he left the room.

“Amazing,” Marius said once we were alone. “You never fail to astound me, Eizo.” He had cast off the formal manner he’d adopted and was now speaking to me familiarly again.

I had no idea what he was talking about. “What do you mean?” What was so amazing about being afraid?

“His Grace the Margrave was applying a lot of pressure on you during that last exchange, but you answered all of his questions.”

“I suppose I did...?”

I thought that his countenance was rather intimidating, but it wasn’t unbearable.

“Just getting out a single word answer would’ve been a feat for a normal person.”

“I could feel the pressure he was exerting from my seat beside you. No regular person would’ve been able to answer him,” Camilo added.

Is answering him really such an impressive feat?

“His Grace is renowned for his swordsmanship, and was once in charge of an expedition to bring down an ogre. He never left the front lines and was the first to charge into battle,” Marius said. “I suspect he was pressing you because he could sense your strength. Admittedly, his personality leaves something to be desired.”

“Is that so?”

“Don’t worry. He’s not a bad person by any means. He overlooked the guests that I sneaked in, after all.”

“That was benevolent.”

Is my future going to be filled with peculiar people?

I fervently wished Marius the best of luck from here on out.

⌗⌗⌗

The three of us left the margrave’s estate and made for the Eimoor residence. With everything over and done with, all I wanted to do was change out of my fancy clothing.

Since I had been taken straight to the forge when I’d first come to the capital and we’d gone directly to the margrave’s estate in the morning, this was going to be my first time visiting the Eimoor home. The estate itself was smaller than the margrave’s had been, but the entrance gates were grand and imposing.

Upon arriving, Camilo and I were led to a lushly decorated, parlor-like room. Marius had disappeared elsewhere. I guessed he had gone to change.

I want to change too...

A middle-aged servant called over to me. “Master Eizo, can you come with me please?”

I followed him down a tapestry-lined corridor. Unlike the hallways in estates shown in the media from my previous world, there wasn’t a single suit of armor or vase in sight. The hallway to the parlor had been similarly sparse. We hadn’t gone very far when the servant opened a door leading to another room. “Please enter.”

I followed his instructions and stepped into the room. Several female servants were waiting inside. The door shut behind me, giving the situation a dramatic air, but I doubted anything of importance was going to happen. I had already spotted my clothing folded up and resting off to the side.

“We were told you are unfamiliar with your current clothing, so we are here to assist you with changing,” one of the servants said.

I’d learned this morning that the process took longer the more I resisted, so I gave myself over to their efforts. In a flash, the servants had divested me of the formal wear. To be honest, I appreciated the help—I couldn’t make heads or tails of the clothing. I hadn’t known how to put them on, and obviously, I didn’t know how to take them off properly either. I could dress myself in my original clothes without help, but there was little point in turning away their aid at this point.

Perhaps because I’d known what to expect from the beginning this time, the servants finished dressing me faster than I’d expected. I was now back to being “Villager A.”

Finally, I can relax again. Those fancy clothes didn’t suit me at all.

As I reveled in my newfound feeling of freedom, one of the servants chuckled.

“What is it?” I asked her.

“I was only thinking that you seem to be exceptionally pleased with your current outfit, sire,” she said.

“Well, I’m just your average old man, the kind you can find everywhere in town. This outfit suits me better. Don’t I look good?” I joked.

“No doubt, sire,” she replied, her smile deepening.

Once I was finished changing, I returned to the parlor with the male servant who had guided me earlier. Camilo and Marius were sitting in the room, chatting and sipping tea.

“You’re back,” Marius greeted me.

“Yes. I didn’t realize how much tension I’d been holding in my shoulders until after I’d changed,” I responded with a laugh. “Now I know how utterly unfit I am to play the part of a noble. It doesn’t suit me at all.”

“You’re right about that. I can’t see myself bowing down to you no matter what attire you’re in.”

The three of us shared a laugh at that.

“I owe you both for your help with this incident. I cannot thank you enough.” Marius bowed his head.

“I said this at the beginning, but I’ll say it again—you helped me a lot in the city. I’m only repaying the favor,” I stated.

“I agree. I won’t speak for Eizo, but for me, it is extremely beneficial to be connected to a countship, if I may be so blunt,” admitted Camilo. “I didn’t do anything in particular today, so you don’t have to pay it any mind.”

“I’m grateful for your generosity,” Marius said with a tremulous smile.

It’s natural for him to be wary after today’s events. Camilo and I are now privy to very sensitive information about the Eimoor family. At least we’ve reassured Marius that neither of us plans to plot against him using the info.

“I may not be able to give you much in terms of remuneration, but you have my thanks from the bottom of my heart. If there is anything I can do for you, I will,” offered Marius.

Camilo kept his request modest. “I’m content as long as we continue to trade. Ongoing business with a comital family is boon enough.” After all, he would gain prestige if he were to become a purveyor for a countship.

“Of course. Providing I do not offend the businesses my family already deals with, I am happy to do business with you,” Marius agreed. “And you, Eizo?”

“Me?”

Even if he asks, there’s nothing that jumps out as something I absolutely need to have. Well...I suppose not nothing.

“I would like any information you may have on ores and minerals,” I requested. “Rare ones, not iron ore.”

“Such as mithril?”

“Exactly.”

“Is the information alone sufficient? You don’t need me to procure the real thing?”

“Yes,” I replied, “just information on how I may be able to find it. I’ll have Camilo procure it for me.”

“All right, I’ll see what I can do,” said Marius. “Shall I relay any information I find directly to Camilo then?”

“Yes, that would be a big help.” I looked over at Camilo who gave me a nod. I hadn’t asked Camilo’s opinion beforehand, but he seemed to be on board, thankfully.

“I have prepared one other reward for each of you. Please accept it without saying anything.”

Marius handed the two of us each a small pouch. I opened it and took a peek inside. Nestled within were several gold coins.

“Wait, wait, wait... I can’t—” My words of refusal fizzled out when I saw Marius’s serious countenance. He held my gaze and shook his head subtly.

I guess I have no choice but to accept.

Finally, I gave in and simply stated, “I accept your generosity.”

“Good,” Marius said with a nod.

Our conversation had come to an end, so it was time for me to return home. Before leaving though, I had a question for Marius. “By the way, I should fetch Diana and accompany her back here, right? I’m assuming she should be here for the banquet.”

“Hmm? Oh...yes. The succession of the countship must be processed as soon as possible.”

What was that pause? Marius the Guard seemed to have taken him over for a second. Well, I suppose it’s no big deal.

“In that case, I’ll arrange with Camilo to have her back here in two, maybe three days,” I proposed. “Will that work?”

“No problem on my end,” Camilo added.

“Thanks. I’ll leave it to the two of you then,” Marius said. “I’ll begin the preparations in accordance with that schedule.”

With that cleared up, it’s time to go home.

I’d only been away for three days, but I missed it terribly. I tried to quash my impatience as we departed from the Eimoor estate and set out on the road back to the Black Forest.