That Sword... You're Not Supposed to Use It Like That
I went to all that trouble polishing it up nice and clean for you, and this is what I get? Do you think you can just toss a few coins at a blacksmith whenever it breaks and call it done?
“Well now… that’s quite the lively little letter.”
“Isn’t it adorable? That silent little mite wrote this?”
“Heh. I’d rather our daughter just grow up into a noisy child in the ordinary way.”
“Still, it isn’t pure spite from start to finish. Look here.”
Freya pointed Albert toward one of the densely packed lines.
Channeling mana does protect a blade to some degree. But thinking that means it never needs maintenance is a huge mistake people make.
“Hmm?”
“What do you think? That’s what a proper blacksmith has to say.”
“True enough. Ever since tactics that use mana to harden a sword’s strength and power became common, the superstition spread that blades no longer need care.”
“But if you skip the upkeep often enough, the sword eventually falls apart—is that it?”
Freya took out the small box Tina had given her along with the letter. Inside lay a compact portable whetstone.
“Heh. The more I look at her, the more entertaining the child becomes, don’t you think?”
“……”
Albert watched Freya’s mischievous grin with a quiet gaze.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen that expression on you.”
“What expression?”
“Meeting that girl a few times seems to have taken you right back to those days.”
“……”
Albert smiled bitterly, then ruffled Freya’s hair once before rising from his seat.
“My lady.”
“What is it?”
“Please stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Styria is not a dragon the two of us can bring down.”
“……”
“Slay the dragon that appeared in the granary lands and win the local lord to your side. That is your plan, is it not?”
“…You know me well.”
“And with that, seize control of the supply lines so you can negotiate with the first prince, Kilian.”
“Yes.”
“It makes sense on paper. At this point we cannot fight alone, and neither of the two princes would ever agree to an alliance if we asked.”
“Which is exactly why Styria must be dealt with.”
“It is impossible.”
“If we can at least land a critical blow, we can join forces with the lord and finish it.”
“That is far too reckless.”
“Even so… I want to try. At least this much.”
Freya sank into thought. The image of a slender girl, sweating freely as she carefully tended weapons, rose unbidden in her mind.
“It isn’t only that child. Every commoner is fighting desperately just to live through each day.”
“……”
“I refuse to be someone who inherited the blood of the Northern Grand Duke only to sit back, cling to my own life, and then quietly die.”
“……”
Freya took up her sword and rose to her feet.
“So help me, my master. Help me thrash about until the very end.”
“Young Master Robert.”
Meanwhile, word that Freya intended to recklessly hunt the white dragon Styria had already spread throughout the entire North.
“Yes, I heard. Keh-heh-heh! So the little runt is thrashing about, is she?”
“Her scheme is no doubt to solve the granary region’s problem, win that territory’s lord to her side, and seize control of the supplies.”
“Exactly.”
“Will you take any measures, my lord?”
“Me? Why bother?”
Robert snorted and drained the wine from his cup.
“Even if Elder Brother moves, it would take ten skilled swordsmen—no, a hundred—to bring that dragon down.”
“Hmm…”
“With that girl’s skill, one kick from Styria will shatter every bone in her body…”
“Then… we truly need not worry?”
“Of course not. We already hold the northern capital; supplies mean nothing to us. The one in a hurry is Elder Brother Kilian.”
“Then…”
“Yes… we simply sit still and let Kilian waste time and a few troops. Meanwhile we prepare even more thoroughly for a siege.”
“Hmm… understood.”
“So stop fretting over pointless matters and hurry up with—”
Clack.
At that moment a man burst into Robert’s chamber, dripping with sweat.
“Y-Young Master Robert!”
“What is all this racket?”
“Th-they say she caught it!”
“Huh?”
The man, still gasping for breath, wore an expression thick with disbelief as he repeated the news he himself could scarcely credit.
“L-Lady Freya and her knight Albert have slain the white dragon Styria.”
“……”
It took roughly three seconds before Robert shot up from his seat.
“What did you say?!”
A few hours earlier.
“Khuh?!”
Freya was hard-pressed against the white dragon Styria. Astonishingly, she had managed to carve a wound into the dragon’s weak point beneath the jaw. But that was as far as she got.
“Is this… as far as we go?”
“My lady!”
Albert barely managed to find a hiding place and shove Freya into cover. Outside, the enraged white dragon roared with savage fury.
“It’s enough… it’s enough now. That the two of us made it this far is already a miracle! The bards will sing of us!”
“Not yet! Not yet!”
“Freya!”
Albert seized her roughly by the shoulders. Wounded as she was, Freya could not resist.
“I may not be old enough to be your father, but I am at least uncle material, so listen well!”
“Master…”
“Stop this! It’s enough! But you can never become Grand Duke!”
“Then am I simply supposed to die like this?!”
“No! I… I can manage that much! While I buy time with my life, you cross the border and then—”
“And then… what about your wife? Your daughter?”
“Ugh…”
Albert’s hands flinched. Freya shook them off with force.
“Enough, Albert. Do not interfere with what I must do.”
“Freya… my lady…”
“It’s all right now.”
Freya drew her sword once more.
“I do not want to feel shame before anyone. Not even before that child…”
“……”
“That child…”
She pictured the girl who even now would be hard at work in the forge.
“Hmm?”
“My lady?”
Something suddenly occurred to Freya. She pulled Tina’s letter from her pack again and began rereading the passage that had always felt slightly off.
When facing a dagger, always concentrate your mana toward the hilt. That sword was designed from the start so the focus point of mana can be freely…
“My lady?”
“Shh!”
“This is it.”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“This sword. I thought the balance point had shifted, but that wasn’t it.”
“Pardon?”
“This blade… it is a Yujeon-gye—a Flow/Transmission Type.”
“Flow/Transmission Type? Ah? Was it not a Point-strike Type?”
“I thought so too. That is why I always channeled mana only to the tip.”
“Point-strike Types concentrate mana at the tip, Line/Blade Types along the edge—those structures make it easy.”
“But this one was different. It can send mana smoothly anywhere…”
“A Flow/Transmission Type!”
“Ha! How foolish of me! I should have had an appraiser or a blacksmith look at it ages ago!”
“Well, it was already a battered old sword, so spending money on appraisal hardly seemed worth it.”
“My bastard little sister really is a blacksmith through and through!”
Shiiing.
Freya raised her sword once more. Then she poured the special poison that targeted Styria’s weakness all over the blade.
“Albert!”
“Yes!”
Albert clasped the hilt together with Freya’s single hand.
“Flow/Transmission Types are less efficient with mana than the other two.”
“But the sheer volume of mana they can hold and transmit is far greater. You have not forgotten.”
“Right. So if master and disciple pour everything in together?”
“It is still nowhere near enough!”
Albert spoke with iron certainty.
“We can inflict a temporary critical wound on that monster! But that is all—you must flee at once!”
“……”
“Freya! I need an answer!”
“…Understood.”
The two stood side by side, each gripping the sword with a different hand.
“On three we go.”
“Very well!”
Meanwhile the white dragon Styria had nearly demolished the last of their cover.
“One! Two!”
And then—
Craaash!
The final wall of the hideout collapsed.
“Three!”
They charged straight at Styria, who had thrust its vulnerable throat forward to snap them up.
“Haaaaah!”
Slash!
Freya’s sword sank deep into the dragon’s neck. The two immediately prepared to leap clear. The damage they had dealt was more than sufficient. If they reached the local lord and raised an army, the exhausted dragon could almost certainly be finished. Provided the lord chose to follow Freya… provided he decided not to wait for the first prince’s forces…
“Eh?!”
Grrrk.
But—
Slaaash!
“Ugh?!”
Freya no longer needed to worry about any of that.
Crack!
“What?!”
The shock they had delivered to the white dragon Styria was far greater than either of them had imagined. The dragon’s head tore free from its body and soared into the air. The headless carcass thrashed once, then collapsed limply to the ground.
“Ah…”
“Uh…”
The two of them stood with mouths hanging open, staring blankly at the severed neck that still sprayed blood.
A few days later.
“Did you hear?”
“About the North? The youngest one, right?”
“Yeah. They say the Grand Duke’s daughter took down a mythic-class dragon all by herself.”
“Come on, does that even make sense?”
“Beats me. Every time I run into northerners that’s all they talk about.”
Freya had once again concealed her identity and returned to Kepler, the city that linked the North and the Empire.
“Heh-heh. As expected, the Grand Duke’s bloodline is no ordinary thing.”
“For the succession war’s balance to shift like this… truly, you never know.”
Yet she had not come here to listen to the citizens of Kepler gossip about her own exploits.
“Heh-heh-heh.”
She glanced at her thoroughly ruined sword and let out a soft chuckle.
“Well, well… looks like the little mite is going to scold me again.”
She knocked on the forge door, and—
“Good to see you.”
“Ah…”
—found herself face-to-face with the shy girl who recognized her at once.
Crash!
“Y-Your Grace… please, calm yourself.”
“Do I look like a man who can calm himself right now?”
Meanwhile, in the mansion of the first son, Kilian.
“How in the world did she slay that dragon alone?”
“N-not alone—her knight escort—”
“Silence.”
“……”
Sensing the murderous aura, Kilian’s subordinates kept their heads bowed and dared not meet his eyes.
“There is no other choice…”
Kilian rose from his seat, spitting the words with open irritation.
“Prepare the army. We must move quickly.”
