Chapter 168
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 168
Malcolm scanned the masters stepping forward with him and muttered under his breath.
They all look so dignified and full of confidence. There isn't a trace of fear or hesitation on their faces.
It was likely due to their pride in their skills and the fact that they each held their own theories regarding metals. In reality, those theories probably held some weight, and they had likely been praised as skilled masters by those around them. How else could they be so certain of their success?
You can usually glimpse the trajectory of a person’s life just by observing their daily demeanor. These masters couldn't hide the aura of people who had walked a path of success without ever tasting true frustration.
How ridiculous. Of all the people standing here, I’m the only one with slumped shoulders.
A bitter smile played on Malcolm’s lips. It was ironic that he, the one who actually knew the secret of Fairy Light, was acting more cautiously than these masters who relied on theories they had cobbled together in their own heads. It was a habit born from surviving years of hardship—a natural tendency to tread carefully.
In the past, I wouldn't have cared what others thought... but not anymore. Now that His Highness has appointed me to the prestigious position of Forge Master, I must maintain a certain level of dignity.
If he failed to show the ability and dignity befitting a Forge Master, people would question Lucian’s judgment. For the sake of Lucian, who had placed his trust in him, Malcolm had to cast aside his timid attitude.
Standing before the forge with the five challengers, Malcolm squared his shoulders and recalled the orders he had received earlier.
—I want you to participate in this competition as one of the challengers. Of course, your position as Forge Master will remain unchanged, so don't worry too much.
—Do you mean for me to prove to the others that I am worthy of being the Forge Master, Your Highness?
—Rather than that, I want you to set an example. Show them the process of refining Fairy Light, step by step, in detail.
—Pardon? If I show them the entire refining process, won't they all just copy me?
Lucian’s original goal was supposed to be selecting blacksmiths capable of refining Fairy Light through a competition. But if the refining process was laid bare, there would be no way to tell if someone was a true genius or simply a man skilled at imitation.
At Malcolm’s doubt, Lucian had shaken his head.
—My goal was already achieved the moment you arrived. What I need now are people who can quickly absorb your teachings.
—Teachings, Your Highness...?
—Moving forward, in addition to your duties as Forge Master, I intend to have you lecture other blacksmiths on the ancient metal smelting methods.
—Ah!
Malcolm finally understood Lucian’s plan. Previously, Lucian had sought a genius master because he didn't know the ancient smelting methods; it was a fallback plan. But everything changed once Malcolm brought the books containing the organized smelting methods.
With the methods in hand, it was far better to secure a large number of talented individuals than a single genius.
—We live in an era where we must mass-produce weapons and armor to equip our soldiers immediately. We must utilize what we have to the fullest. There is no time to leisurely support a genius’s research.
—You are absolutely right, Your Highness. This old man asked a foolish question.
—If you understand my words, then you understand what you must do from here on out, correct?
—I am to set the example and observe the others. Then, I shall select the masters who quickly grasp my teachings and can apply them immediately.
—Precisely.
“The competition will begin shortly! Blacksmiths, prepare for refining!”
At the knight’s shout, Malcolm and the challengers took their places before the forge. Soon, the whistle blew to signal the start, and the blacksmiths began to move.
The men who had stepped forward to challenge the first round alongside Malcolm were confident. They had spent years working with metal; they had lost count of how many pieces they had shaped with their own hands. Even if it was called "ancient" or "legendary," as long as it was metal, the process couldn't be that different.
However, that confidence crumbled before long.
“Why! Why isn't it working?!”
“According to my theory, a change should be happening by now...!”
“I’d rather it just shatter! It won't even budge!”
If they had failed and produced a mess, they would have been embarrassed, but not necessarily despondent. At least they would have failed while trying to create something. The problem was that it wasn't just a failure—it was impossible to even change the metal's shape. No matter how much they heated it in the forge or worked the bellows, the metal refused to soften.
It was just as the confident challengers were losing heart and stopping their work one by one.
Whoosh!
“Wh-what?”
“What is that?”
The eyes of the onlookers, who had been watching with an 'I told you so' attitude, widened at the change occurring at Malcolm’s forge. The challengers also turned their heads late, staring at the flickering, ever-changing flames.
Despite the gazes pouring in from all sides, Malcolm didn't even blink as he pulled the Fairy Light from the fire.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
“It—it’s changing! The shape is changing!”
“My god, a legend is unfolding before my eyes...!”
Amidst the erupting shock, the Fairy Light slowly began to shift its form. People watched with wide eyes, determined not to miss a single second of Malcolm’s work. And soon, their mouths hung open as they witnessed a process that completely defied common sense.
The forging and folding processes were similar to ordinary metal, but the heating and quenching stages were bizarre. It was a chaotic method that would have caused ordinary metal to shatter at any moment. Yet, Malcolm continued his work without a hint of doubt in that seemingly reckless process.
Sssssss!
As the final quenching ended, Malcolm pulled out the blade. It would require additional polishing and the attachment of a hilt to be a finished sword, but those were secondary processes. For this competition, his task was complete as long as he could refine the Fairy Light into a blade.
“It is finished.”
“Hmm.”
The knight nodded silently and took the blade made of Fairy Light. Perhaps because he had done it once before, the blade was crafted much better than the first sword he had made.
As Malcolm submitted the sword and disappeared inside, the knight shouted toward the challengers.
“Do you all intend to give up?”
“W-wait a moment! This is just too...!”
The word unfair almost climbed up their throats. Unlike them, who had been busy with their own challenges and couldn't see the process properly, the ones watching from behind would have observed everything. At this rate, only the ones who had hung back like cowards would benefit.
However, it was they themselves who had volunteered to be the first challengers despite having the chance to step back. They couldn't open their mouths, paralyzed by the despair that such excuses wouldn't work now.
While the desperate silence stretched on, the knight shouted to the blacksmiths again.
“I do not know what problem has occurred, but I will give you one more chance if you wish. You may return at the very end, after all other challengers have had their turn.”
“Pardon? Is—is that allowed?”
“Normally, it wouldn't be, but His Grace the Duke has made a special exception. He has permitted a re-challenge only for those who stepped forward first.”
“...!”
Seeing the order that seemed to have anticipated this exact situation, the masters realized the truth. They had been foils from the very beginning. The master who had successfully handled the Fairy Light had been in the Duke’s employ all along.
Even after learning the truth, the masters did not leave. The first round had already proven that the refining method for Fairy Light defied common sense. Even if they had attempted it using their original theories, they would have tasted nothing but bitter failure.
In contrast, they had now observed the work of a master who knew the secret from start to finish. Though the success rate was still low, they at least had a basic framework now, unlike before when there was no possibility at all.
So what if I wasn't the first master? It is the highest honor just to strike a legendary metal.
Even if I work here as a mere underling, I’ll be treated like an elder in other regions. I can't miss this chance.
To hell with honor or whatever—I don't care who I work under, I just want to make a legendary weapon with my own hands!
Some struck the Fairy Light to gain honor, some for power, and some to satisfy their desires as artisans. Even though they had observed the perfect process, it had only been once, and they lacked the detailed theory. Naturally, the majority wasted the Fairy Light with clumsy work or failed to refine a proper blade.
However, even amidst that, there were those who succeeded, and they naturally became candidates for Malcolm’s apprenticeship.
As the competition continued over several days, Malcolm finished the sword made of Fairy Light and presented it to Lucian.
“Your Highness, the sword is complete.”
“It’s good.”
Lucian swung the finished sword a few times before handing it to Felicia, who was standing beside him. Felicia took the Fairy Light sword, examined it for a moment, and smiled slightly.
“It is quite fine. Though the length is short, it is steady and the balance is excellent. This should be sufficient for actual combat.”
“Pardon? Actual combat?”
Startled by the unexpected words, Malcolm looked back and forth between Felicia and Lucian. He had understood that the sword he made this time was merely a ceremonial blade to be presented to the Sword Saint, but she mentioned actual combat.
“Your Highness, what I made is a ceremonial sword. It is not something meant for the battlefield.”
“I think it’s more than enough for use. You underestimate your own skills too much.”
“Well, it might be at the level of what you'd find in an ordinary smithy, but...”
Malcolm trailed off, not knowing where to begin his explanation. A common mercenary might use it, but wasn't Felicia the successor to the Sword Saint? A renowned knight should use a sword befitting their reputation. Unless it was a masterpiece born from thousands of folds, a ceremonial sword like this was far beneath what Felicia should be using.
As if reading Malcolm’s thoughts, Felicia spoke up.
“I know what you’re thinking, but rest easy. I am not the type to be overly picky about my blade.”
“But this sword does not suit Sir Felicia at all. At the very least, I should have crafted one with a length that matches your height...”
“Do I look like a knight who would fail to show her skill simply because the length of her sword is different?”
“No, not at all! Please forgive this old man’s insolence!”
“I was joking.”
Felicia, who had been pretending to be angry, softened her expression upon seeing the terrified Malcolm. Lucian, who had been stifling a laugh while watching the two, soon turned his head to the side.
“Brother, have you ever heard Sir Felicia tell a joke before?”
“...”
“Right, I suppose not. It is one of the rare sights that only I am permitted to see.”
Despite Tristan’s silence, Lucian answered his own question without a care. His attitude suggested he didn't give a damn whether Tristan was offended or not. As Lucian prepared to turn his attention away again, Tristan finally spoke, unable to hold back any longer.
“Your Highness, enough. Please, just say what is on your mind.”
“Enough of what?”
“Flaunting the power of Asagrim before me.”
By now, Tristan could roughly guess Lucian’s objective. By hinting at the mass production of weapons through the blacksmith competition and showcasing Felicia’s improved skills in the upcoming swordsmanship contest, Lucian intended to signal that he had the Sword Saint under his command.
Tristan was certain that Lucian would then try to engrave upon him just how vast the gap between them was, though he didn't know what means he would use.
“Your Highness wouldn't do all this for no reason. You are repeating these displays because you intend to make a demand of me that I will find difficult to accept, are you not?”
“Hahaha!”
At Tristan’s words, Lucian burst into laughter. It wasn't a laugh meant to dodge the question, but a hearty one that signaled affirmation. Tristan’s face hardened even further.
His patience exhausted, Tristan asked Lucian point-blank.
“Just how great a demand do you intend to make of me that you go to such lengths?”