Forging Ahead
“Hah!”
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
No wear from use, but the training grounds in this fine mansion had top-notch facilities.
There, from early morning, I swung my sword.
‘Real combat experience, huh.’
With clashes breaking out everywhere since reclaiming Rimir Castle, once my leave ended, I’d pile up enough real battles to make me sick of them.
‘Guess the two empires have crossed the point of no return now.’
Probably wouldn’t end until one surrendered and got swallowed up.
‘Wonder how many years that’ll take.’
Unlike the modern world with nukes and missiles for mass destruction, here swords and bows were the main weapons.
That meant battles dragged on forever, resources burned through fast, and endless fighting wasn’t sustainable.
“Son, take a break.”
My mother, watching me with worried eyes, held out a damp cloth.
“Thank you.”
I set my sword aside for a moment and wiped the sweat soaking my body.
“I never imagined you’d turn out this dependable after enlisting. Always take care of yourself.”
“Of course. Gotta survive, inherit the family, and there’s tons to do.”
“Right. If you’ve sacrificed, you deserve proper rewards.”
First Father, now Mother too.
The only ones in the mansion not acknowledging me as heir were probably my two brothers.
“How long you going today?”
“Just thirty more minutes. Gotta head to the smithy.”
“That thing you mentioned to your father at breakfast?”
“Yeah. To get it before heading back, the sooner the better.”
“True. Time’s gold for you right now.”
Short talk done, I picked up my sword again.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
The blade traced yellow paths—swift and precise.
Now, plenty glowed green.
‘Focus. Focus.’
Accuracy was key in swordsmanship.
No room for mistakes.
Whoosh!
Once a spot flashed green, ironclad resolve not to miss it again.
That grit paid off, and only then could you step to the next level.
“Your Majesty, additional budget request from the western front.”
The emperor’s office, plastered in gems and gold.
You’d expect leisure and luxury, but right now it was a bloodless battlefield.
“They broke the defensive line and reclaimed the castle, so they need funds for refitting.”
The emperor scanned the summarized documents from his staff.
His brow furrowed deeper with every line.
The room’s mood froze solid—par for the course.
“46,000 gold to improve weary soldiers’ meals, 200,000 for weapon repairs and purchases.”
“Transport costs are high since it’s a combat zone.”
“Hm.”
Tap! Tap!
Done reviewing, the emperor drummed his fingers on the armrest—clearly displeased.
“I’ve had a thought lately.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“The empire’s united against the war’s hardships, yet it feels like there are far too many thieves’ spawn among us, no?”
Thieves’ spawn.
Could even mean himself, so the ministers’ eyes twitched wildly.
“Don’t think I’m clueless about the front lines just poring over papers here.”
The emperor underlined 460,000 gold and set the document down.
“Eyes and ears from the front to the rear say the input doesn’t match the output. Your thoughts, Quartermaster Commander?”
Ork Major General—shaking hardest—stepped forward.
“I’ll head to the front immediately to oversee budget execution!”
“So you haven’t overseen until now?”
“That’s not it.”
“Last month, 800,000 gold extra for meal quality, and all that changed were the plates.”
“That’s…”
“Logistics—the heart of war—rotten, soldiers starving. Why would they risk their lives for the empire?”
“Your Majesty! I’ve never misused imperial funds for personal gain.”
“Incompetence is a crime too, Major General.”
Ice-cold imperial gaze.
Feeling his life on the line, Ork dropped to his knees.
“Your Majesty! I’ll fix it right now.”
“Too late. Relieved of duty as of now—confine to quarters. Chief of Staff.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Chief of Staff Bust turned toward the emperor.
“The vacant quartermaster post goes to the Finance Minister, concurrently. Audit all expenditures from the last month.”
Personnel orders and a massive audit commanded.
Everyone in the room noted the imperial decree.
“Your Majesty, may I speak?”
Normally, obey without question—but Bust mustered courage for the floor.
“Speak.”
“As Chief of Staff, I agree on the need for Your Majesty’s audit, but I worry about disruptions to wartime duties.”
“Where do you see the issue?”
“To speak frankly and shamefully, even rotten parts have roles. Mass removals could create force gaps.”
“If we’d lose from that scale of loss, better to lose outright. What do you think war is fought with, Chief of Staff?”
The emperor fixed Bust with a steady stare.
“Supplies, troops, and loyalty to the empire.”
“Loyalty matters, but realistically, it’s supplies and troops.”
Having fought on the front lines as crown prince, the emperor knew war’s engine better than anyone.
“And those two need money to sustain. Treasury looks flush now, but ignore the leaks and we’ll bottom out in a prolonged war.”
The sweeping audit.
Not a whim—the emperor had thought it through.
“I bow to Your Majesty’s wisdom.”
Risk existed, but the emperor’s resolve was iron; Bust bowed.
“Ruthlessly cull the incompetent, slot in capable talent. I’m not merciful enough to waste chances on seat-warmers.”
“Understood!”
“Understood!!”
Old quartermaster sacked, Finance Minister stepping in.
With the airtight Finance Ministry grabbing power, a bloodbath was inevitable.
“So this is the famous Bangkero Forge.”
A rough building just off the capital’s heart.
Anyone who’d handled a sword knew it.
One of the few dwarven-run spots in human society.
‘About to meet a dwarf. Why’s my heart racing?’
Elves, dwarves.
Fantasy world staples—couldn’t not care.
Especially elves…
‘They’re supposed to be stunning. Wanna see one.’
Too bad elves were even more reclusive than dwarves, rarely leaving Greatwood.
‘Only known one’s Finance Minister Rosen, right?’
Rumor said he owed the late emperor a huge debt.
Regrettably, Rosen was male.
“Eh, circle back enough times, bound to meet one.”
Shoved aside stray thoughts and stepped inside.
“Welcome! Bangkero Forge.”
Unlike the expected sweltering workshop, it was a posh shop vibe.
‘Rivals a luxury boutique.’
Weapons in glass cases.
Not one ordinary.
Combining fine iron ore from Oclo County mines and green coral from southern seas.
Shows twice the corrosion resistance of ordinary swords, thanks to Bangkero Forge’s unique smelting.
Creator: Blacksmith Bode
Price: 25G
Each weapon labeled with description and maker.
‘25 gold? Steeper than expected.’
Shocker: cheapest one.
Luxury demands the smith’s hand from start to finish. Personally selected ore from Belburn mines.
Back at the forge: repeated heating and cooling, hammered 10,000 times.
6-month craft; few blades could break this artisan’s breath-infused work.
Creator: Master Smith Peon
Price: 300G
“Description’s killer.”
Price matched the hype.
‘10,000 hammers? Maybe not that outrageous?’
Human eyes play dirty, you know?
After the 300-gold beauty, the 25-gold one looked trashy.
‘My skill’s overkill for even the 25-gold, but…’
Not buying it, though.
I had funds for the best.
“Shall I fit Lieutenant Alpen here with a custom blade too?”
Tough instructor, but first teacher and lifesaver.
“Um… young master.”
Lost track of time browsing; Thomas returned.
“Speak.”
“Master says he’s tied up long with a prior guest—come back tomorrow.”
“Hm.”
Rejection stung unexpected, but “prior guest” grated more.
‘Their order pushes mine back.’
To snag before return, had to cut in.
“Tell Master: I’ll pay double their fee. See me first.”
“Uh… got it.”
Thomas hesitated, then nodded and headed to Master again.
“Dunno who, but I’m risking life on the front—let me go first.”
Wartime, soldiers first, right?
Selfish? All for the empire.