Chapter 22: No Ill Intentions (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 22: No Ill Intentions (1)
Late that afternoon, Calian traced the magic patterns on the lid of the safe to open it.
The original Calian had never touched it himself, so he had no memory of how it worked. He had to rely on his memory of watching Yan, making several mistakes before he finally managed to get it open.
The safe, large enough for Calian to climb into, held a few documents and a substantial amount of money, just as he remembered. After staring at it for a moment, Calian grabbed handfuls of gold, silver, and bronze coins—leaving the banknotes—and stuffed them into his pockets and the folds of his robes.
"Sorry. I'll just borrow a little."
Yan, who would have surely questioned how that could possibly be "a little," was waiting outside, so Calian's words went unanswered.
Alan was waiting with Yan in front of Chermil Palace, a black robe draped over his arm.
Beside him stood Raven, one leg bent in a display of effortless elegance.
"Raven."
When Calian called out happily, Raven raised his head and let out a soft snort. Handing over the reins, Yan asked in a worried tone, "Your Highness. Are you certain you'll be alright without me?"
It seemed Yan had forgotten that the person accompanying the prince was the world's strongest mage. Calian nodded reassuringly and mounted Raven.
Alan's eyes narrowed slightly as he watched Calian swing himself onto the horse with a light, fluid motion—far nimbler than he remembered. Though a thoughtful expression crossed his face, Alan quickly masked it and spoke to Yan.
"There's no need to worry. His Majesty has given his permission, and I will be by his side."
"Yes, don't worry. I'll be back by dawn tomorrow."
At Calian's sudden announcement, Raven set off on his own.
Yan's eyes widened in shock. "Tomorrow?!" he hissed. "You said you'd be back before midnight!"
Of course, Calian was already far in the distance.
Giving Yan a comforting pat on the shoulder, Alan dashed after the prince.
* * *
Having successfully shaken Yan and used Alan's presence as a guarantee to leave the palace, Calian quickly threw on the robe Alan had handed him. The deep hood concealed his head and eyes.
"I used to cover my face for other reasons. This feels strange, Master," Calian said, his face flushed with excitement.
And for good reason—this was his first taste of freedom since waking up in Calian's body.
"Are you that pleased?"
"Yes. I've been… looking forward to this so much."
He barely stopped himself from saying, "It's been so long since I last went out." To the original Calian, this was his very first outing.
Alan smiled and nodded without a word.
Calian playfully ruffled Raven's mane and asked, "Did His Majesty truly give his permission?"
"Lemain has likely received the report by now."
It was a carefree, nonchalant answer. It meant Alan hadn't told him beforehand.
"I figured as much."
Still, Calian didn't worry. Alan would handle it.
Meanwhile, even upon receiving the report that Calian had left the palace again, Lemain merely nodded. He assumed Alan would take care of everything.
"Well then, I shall be off, Master."
Alan, the one supposedly responsible for this outing, raised an eyebrow at Calian's sudden declaration.
"Are you planning to leave me behind as well?"
"Yes."
Calian nodded without hesitation.
His purpose for leaving the palace was to purchase the items necessary to deal with Silike's poisoned tea. While he was out, he also planned to find Kyrie. Since all of this required him to move around as Bern, not Calian, having Alan tag along was out of the question.
Calian had even put on an act for this very moment. To avoid the poisoned tea, he had "accidentally" dropped the teacup. He needed to build up enough physical strength to at least escape in an emergency while wandering alone. It was a trick he couldn't use twice, but since he planned to drink the tea normally starting tomorrow, it didn't matter.
"I will return before sunrise."
Alan, lost in thought for a moment, nodded. His permission came so easily that it caught Calian off guard.
"The Mage Association is on Teinansha Street. I'll be waiting there, so come find me when you are done."
Maps of Kairisis had already been delivered to Secritia in painstaking detail by spies. In fact, Bern knew the layout of Kairisis better than the original Calian did. Thus, Calian nodded with confidence.
"Yes, Master. Thank you."
Alan didn't ask what Calian intended to do, and Calian offered no explanation. The two parted ways as soon as they crossed the square.
* * *
His first destination was Banensha Street, located east across the Senyu River.
Clip-clop, clip-clop.
Since galloping was forbidden within the capital's walls, Calian kept Raven at a brisk walk.
The cheerful clip-clop of hooves lifted Calian's spirits, and he smiled, nodding in time with Raven's rhythm.
Finding Banensha Street wasn't difficult.
All he had to do was follow the ceaseless sound of hammering that echoed through the streets, even as the sun began to set. The scent of iron hanging in the air brought a wave of nostalgia.
"To think I'd be so happy to smell this familiar, tiresome scent again."
Banensha was the street of blacksmiths. More than twenty shops lined both sides of the narrow road.
Since Secritia's spies hadn't reported which of the shops sold the best weapons, Calian dismounted Raven and walked slowly, leading him by the reins as he scanned the wares of each shop.
"None of these really catch my eye."
After browsing for a while, he murmured to himself. Finally, a particular storefront caught his attention. Unlike the other places, this shop displayed only weapons—no shields or armor—and a single glance was enough to see the exceptional quality of the items on display.
When Calian stopped in front of the shop named 'Rotten Forge,' a young boy ran out from inside to greet him.
"Welcome! Are you looking for a sword?"
Calian nodded and handed over Raven's reins. He then pressed a coin into the boy's hand and gave him a warning.
"Don't try to pet him, or you'll regret it. Just lead him over quietly and tie up his reins."
The boy swallowed hard, looking terrified. Finding this endearing, Calian patted the boy's head and handed him another coin.
"Don't worry, he's gentle as long as you don't touch him."
After sending the boy off, Calian stepped inside. Soon, a middle-aged man who appeared to be the owner emerged. His thick, muscular arms glistened with sweat, a clear sign that he forged the weapons himself.
"Are you looking for something in particular?"
"Do you have a sword suitable for a youth around seventeen? The length can be the same as an adult's, but I'd like it to be light. It's for someone who hasn't held a sword in a long time."
The man looked at Calian with a slightly puzzled expression. The customer spoke as if buying a sword for someone else, but his voice was so young it was clear he hadn't reached seventeen himself.
However, the smith knew that asking too many questions in a place like this was a good way to shorten one's lifespan, so he simply nodded.
"Yes, please wait a moment. I will bring some out."
"Very well."
After the man went into the back of the shop, Calian began to wander around and examine the weapons. As he did, a thin knife about a span long caught his eye. Perhaps designed to be concealed under clothing, it had no guard, and its sheath was equipped with a leather strap to fasten around the forearm.
Calian reached out and picked it up.
Though it was merely a knife, the moment he held it, he could feel its perfect balance. He drew the blade, and its sharp, dark iron edge gleamed. A satisfied smile spread across Calian's face.
"This will do perfectly for me."
The sword he had just requested from the owner was not for himself.
It was meant for Kyrie, the boy he had run into on the way to the equestrian show, to use for practice.
In truth, even if Calian were to use a sword himself, one made of ordinary iron wouldn't be able to withstand Aura for long.
'Not that this body could handle Aura either,' he thought.
Suddenly, he recalled the sharp crack of his sword shattering on the day he died as Bern.
Right now, it would be intact and unbroken, but Calian would never see that sword again. It was a treasured blade passed down through generations of the Secritia Royal Family.
Thinking of the sword brought to mind the mage who had killed him—the one who had shattered it. As he pictured the man whose face had been hidden behind a white mask, a dark smile formed on Calian's face.
A smile that seemed to say, That really hurt. Just you wait until we meet again.
"Here they are."
The owner's voice pulled Calian from his thoughts. He had returned with the swords.
The owner had brought out three longswords.
Although they were on the lighter side, Calian couldn't even lift one with a single hand.
'Pathetic.'
Scoffing at his own weakness, Calian gripped a sword with both hands. He began to inspect every part of it meticulously, even giving it a light swing. Since this would be the first sword Kyrie would use, he couldn't afford to choose carelessly.
'The balance is perfect. The flexibility, the sharpness… This looks like an ordinary shop, but the craftsmanship is extraordinary.'
Watching this, the owner's confusion only grew.
The way this hooded customer—likely a young boy—inspected the swords was far from ordinary. He checked all the critical points with a precision that would put a high-ranking knight to shame, yet he struggled to even lift the sword properly.
"I'll take this one. And this knife as well."
While the owner was still lost in bewilderment, Calian picked out one of the longswords. It was the very one the owner himself would have recommended.
Calian quickly took out eight silver coins to pay, then asked, "Do you forge all the weapons here yourself?"
"Yes, that is correct."
At his response, three gold coins were immediately placed on the counter. The amount was nearly four times what he had just paid, and the owner's eyes widened in surprise.
"I need a sturdier longsword and a dagger without a guard. The weight should be standard."
"Is this for when the user becomes more proficient?"
Calian nodded and added his requirements. "Indeed. He's very tall and his strikes are heavy and powerful, but he isn't slow. He'll be using them for a long time, so I want them crafted with the utmost care. Can you do it?"
Committing the user's description to memory, the owner replied without hesitation, "Of course. By the way, is there a name you would like engraved on the blade?"
"No. There is no need for that."
"Understood. Then, how much time will you give me?"
"That is a question I should be asking you. The timeframe doesn't matter, so long as the work is exceptional."
The owner pondered for a moment before speaking. "In that case, I will source the finest materials and forge blades that are sure to satisfy you. Please return in about a month."
"I shall do so. If the payment is insufficient, I will pay the difference then."
"Yes. Understood."
After bowing, the owner handed the knife to Calian, then took the longsword outside to secure it to Raven's saddle.
But when Calian caught a sudden glimpse of the whites of Raven's eyes, he waved his hands frantically and took the sword.
"No, don't do that. I'll do it myself."
Thanks to his horse's loyalty—which was reserved solely for its master—Calian had to grunt and strain to strap the sword to the saddle himself.
He then fastened the leather strap of the knife sheath inside his sleeve before mounting Raven.
His next destination was a shop that sold something rather special.