Chapter 163
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 163
‘But that’s one thing, and this is another.’
Joshua was no longer the spoiled fourth son of the past; he was now a patriarch responsible for an entire house.
He couldn't very well uproot the foundations of his family to help a brother just because he felt sorry for him—especially not when that brother could potentially become a threat to the family.
"I am truly sorry for your misfortune, brother. If I could help, I would do so gladly. But I really have no resources to spare."
"I cannot tell if you are being sincere or simply making excuses. To my eyes, this territory looks quite prosperous and peaceful."
"Why do you fail to mention that the military strength of this 'peaceful' territory is pathetic?"
Tristan fell silent at Joshua’s pointed remark.
It was as he said; the military power of the territory Joshua governed was incredibly meager. Even though they were elites, the five hundred soldiers Tristan brought with him were enough to pose a threat.
"This land appears prosperous only because we’ve spent almost nothing on military expenses until now. We could afford to do that while the Empire was at peace. But that prosperity ends now."
"Do you intend to raise an army?"
"Not out of ambition. It’s for survival. Is this not a world where you are devoured the moment you show a weakness?"
Now that an age of chaos had arrived, Joshua had no other choice.
In truth, even hurrying to establish a standing army now was quite late. All the surrounding territories had already reinforced their military strength, becoming far more powerful than before.
"I kept escaping reality, thinking the confusion would be brief and peace would return soon... and that brought me to this point. I can no longer delay it."
The price of acting late was steep. While he had been hesitating, the costs required to establish an army had skyrocketed.
An army was always a money-hungry hippo just by existing, but current costs were incomparable to the past.
"I’ve reached the point where I have to sell the luxury goods in my manor just to establish a standing army capable of barely defending the territory. Under these circumstances, how could I possibly help you, brother?"
"If you wish, I can protect your territory for you."
"Ha."
Joshua let out a hollow laugh at Tristan’s proposal.
He couldn't tell if the man was being serious or if he was shamelessly trying to pull a fast one.
"Brother, I am no fool. Who in their right mind lets another man's army into their own bedroom?"
Entrusting the defense against external enemies to someone else was the same as handing over one's life. Even if the offer were made out of pure goodwill, it would be suspicious—but to entrust the defense to Tristan, who was desperate for a base of operations?
It was no different from gift-wrapping his territory and handing it over.
"If you want this territory that badly, then kill me here and take it. As long as I am breathing, I will never hand this land over to another."
"...It was a simple suggestion. Do not overreact."
Tristan turned his head away from Joshua’s gaze, which was filled with the resolve to die.
In truth, he wanted nothing more than to drag Joshua down right now and seize the territory. Since his soldiers were already inside the inner castle, it wouldn't be difficult if he set his mind to it.
However, if he committed such an act after arriving as a guest, Tristan’s reputation would hit rock bottom, and he would be met with universal contempt. Not only would it give the surrounding lords a justification for war, but his legitimacy as the successor of Valdek would lose its luster.
Joshua frowned as he watched Tristan stand still for a long time, caught in a deadlock.
"To be honest... I don't understand why you came to me for help in the first place. Don't you have a brother in the North who is far better off than I am?"
"Lucian."
Tristan’s eyebrows twitched.
The simpleton who had lost his mother and spent an entire year holed up in his room, begging for their father’s attention.
But during that seclusion, he had seemingly gained some kind of enlightenment; he reappeared as a completely different person and rapidly rose as a powerful contender for the succession.
Tristan didn't have much of a grievance with the fact that his once-ignored third brother had grown into a formidable rival. Lucian’s achievements at the time were impressive enough for even Tristan to acknowledge.
However, now that he was more desperate for support than anyone, those memories made him hesitate.
‘The third brother’s talent isn't just an eye for people or bold decisiveness. It’s his foresight—the way he sets the stage he wants and draws the big picture to ensure his own profit.’
Thinking back, Lucian always produced results that benefited him. Even actions that seemed foolish in the short term were always evaluated as wise decisions as time passed.
And every time, Tristan had been surprised and impressed.
Looking back now, that was a bad omen. It meant he had never once managed to keep up with Lucian.
‘If I had seen through his plans even once, I wouldn't be this anxious. But I failed to catch up to him until the very end.’
It would likely be no different if they met now. No matter what plan Lucian devised, Tristan wouldn't be able to discern his intentions. If he wasn't careful, he might go to ask for aid only to end up being dragged along by Lucian’s schemes.
That was why he had been avoiding Lucian as much as possible, but...
‘I truly have no other way now.’
If he didn't receive support like this, he wouldn't even be able to maintain his remaining army. Before he lost everything, he had to go to Lucian and ask for help.
Showing up out of the blue would look like begging, but a perfect excuse to visit the North had just presented itself.
"Now that I think about it, I heard Sir Eisen was recently taken into the embrace of the Eight Gods. As a disciple who learned the sword from him, I should go to offer my condolences. It wouldn't be bad to see the third brother’s face while I'm at it."
"That’s exactly what I mean. I’m too busy to go, so please give my regards to Brother Lucian."
Joshua shouted with delight as Tristan showed signs of leaving. If the man left even a second sooner, Joshua couldn't ask for anything more.
After a moment of thought, Tristan nodded and headed outside.
"Thank you for the hospitality. I shall take my leave."
"I won't see you out. Safe travels."
As the door clicked shut, Joshua let out a deep sigh. Dealing with his eldest brother, who might snap and try to seize the territory at any moment, had completely drained his energy.
The visit had been like a bolt from the blue, but thanks to it, Joshua had learned one great lesson.
"...I shouldn't spare any expense in establishing the standing army."
In an age of chaos, being weak was a sin in itself. Because if the strong decided to do something to you, no one would be there to stop them.
"Are you the blacksmith named Malcolm? The one who can handle Fairy Light?"
"Y-yes, Your Grace!"
Malcolm prostrated himself, his face pale.
He never imagined he would actually be granted an audience with the Duke in less than a day. His body trembled at the meeting with a high-ranking noble, someone he thought he would never even speak to in his lifetime.
His counterpart was an absolute power who could lay waste to a city with a single gesture. Even Malcolm, who had been through all sorts of hardships in his life, couldn't help but be nervous before the Conqueror of the North.
"Fascinating. I thought the smelting methods for ancient metals had all vanished. How did you learn the technique?"
"Thanks to my ancestor leaving the smelting method in a book, I was able to study it a little."
"A book? Then you’ve never actually smelted it yourself?"
"That is correct."
"Hmm."
Malcolm swallowed hard at the sound of Lucian’s contemplative voice. He had spoken honestly for fear of the repercussions of lying, but if the Duke was disappointed, it was all over. There would be no problem with seizing the smelting method and kicking him out if he wasn't a master craftsman experienced in handling ancient metals.
"I’ve prepared a forge in the inner castle. Would you like to try smelting Fairy Light there? I’ll tell you in advance—it doesn't matter if you fail."
"Pardon...? Ah, yes!"
But the Duke’s tone that followed was incredibly light. Malcolm, momentarily dazed by the casual tone, answered hurriedly.
The young Duke seemed satisfied with the answer; he let out a laugh and stood up.
"Good, then let’s begin immediately. I’ll guide you myself."
Malcolm stared blankly at the Duke’s retreating back before following him as if possessed. Several knights who had been lined up on either side followed close behind to guard the two.
A short while later, as they reached a corner of the inner castle, a perfect forge entered Malcolm’s view. From the hammers and anvils to the tongs and the furnace, everything was of the highest quality. Even a clumsy apprentice could probably make something decent by striking iron in a place like this.
"How is it? I did my best to set it up in my own way. I’m ignorant of blacksmithing, so I wasn't sure if it was done right."
"...It is a forge far better than I deserve."
Answering with sincerity, Malcolm slowly walked toward the forge. As if prepared in advance, the furnace was already heated to the perfect temperature.
Taking a deep breath, Malcolm picked up the violet ingot lying before him.
‘Fairy Light.’
One of the metals he had a love-hate relationship with, one that had tormented him relentlessly in the past. As he held the hope that had crumbled long ago in his hands, he felt a surge of emotion.
Suppressing his sentimentality, Malcolm squeezed his eyes shut and placed the Fairy Light into the furnace.
Whoosh!
The Fairy Light was instantly heated, turning a brilliant red. It was a phenomenon not much different from when an ordinary iron ingot was heated, but Malcolm never took his eyes off it.
Eventually, just as the color of the Fairy Light began to turn white, Malcolm pulled it out with tongs and plunged it into the water.
Ssssssssss!
"Wait, what on earth is he—!"
"He’s quenching it without even folding or forging it?"
Several knights standing behind the Duke cried out in horror at Malcolm’s actions. The process of quenching metal in water was something done only after the forging process of hammering the iron. Yet, he had heated the ingot only to cool it in water without swinging a hammer even once.
It was a smelting process that completely defied conventional common sense.
Despite the shocked voices coming from all sides, Malcolm remained unperturbed and pulled the Fairy Light out of the water. Then, as soon as he confirmed that the color of the Fairy Light had changed slightly, he immediately swung his hammer.
Clang!
"This is absurd. If he’s going to forge it, he should at least reheat it."
"What does he expect to achieve by hammering metal that has already cooled?"
At this rate, the metal would surely shatter rather than take the desired shape. Sure enough, the Fairy Light began to crack and splinter after only a few strikes of the hammer.
"Tsk, tsk. I knew that would happen."
"He’s going to waste precious Fairy Light."
Malcolm didn't panic at all, even as he watched the Fairy Light crack as if it were about to break at any moment. Instead, he continued to strike it incessantly, as if he wanted it to shatter completely.
Only after he had been hammering for about ten minutes did the knights realize something strange.
"...Why isn't it breaking?"
No matter how hard he struck it, the Fairy Light only cracked; it did not shatter. It was as if something was holding the cracked Fairy Light tightly together so it wouldn't scatter.
After hammering for a long time, Malcolm finally put the crack-riddled Fairy Light back into the furnace.
Fwooooosh!
"Gasp!"
The moment the furnace swallowed the cracked Fairy Light, flames shot up toward the sky. It was a change as if a bucket of oil, not ore, had been poured in. The fiercely burning flames soon began to turn from red to a deep, dark azure.
"Ah..."
At the color of the flames, which resembled the sky at dawn, a single tear rolled down Malcolm’s cheek.
Everything he saw before his eyes was exactly as described in the book he had inherited from his ancestor.