Chapter 25
Chapter 25
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 25
Chapter Title: Relic of the Primordial Dragon (5)
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‘Mother?’
Theo couldn’t comprehend it for a moment.
‘Mother? Kirson?’
As far as Theo knew, Cecilia was an orphan without a single family member.
That was why her standing in the household was so poor.
Yet she was calling the owner of the Basque Forge her mother?
The pieces simply didn’t fit.
On top of that, Kirson was mad for money but still a full-fledged elf.
A ‘High Elf,’ no less—one of the precious few left on the continent, as Theo understood it.
There was no way she could be Cecilia’s birth mother.
Oblivious or not to Theo’s doubts,
Kirson shot back at Cecilia’s form of address without missing a beat.
With utter displeasure, no less.
“Mother? You actually think of me as your mother?”
“Even if she only raised me for half a year, a foster mother is still a mother.”
“You damn wench. The one who never showed her face once in all that time.”
“Should I just call you ‘old bat’ or ‘liver spot’ like always, then?”
Theo marveled at how sharp his mother’s tongue could be.
“That mouth of yours...! Just scram already. Every bond between us ended ages ago.”
It was then, as Kirson turned away in a huff,
that Cecilia suddenly hurled the three ceremonial swords she held in her hand toward her.
“What’s this nonsense?”
Kirson thrust out her left hand—the one not clutching her pipe—and snatched the swords midair with effortless grace.
It was as if the wind itself bent to her will.
‘Her forging skills are as impressive as her hammer work.’
While Theo’s eyes gleamed,
Kirson’s eyebrow twitched.
These were the treasured swords Cecilia had hounded her into making last year as a gift for her son.
“I’m returning them.”
“Absurd. You dare return swords forged by Kirson herself?”
Theo let out a hollow chuckle.
He’d thought they were just fine ceremonial blades.
Forged by a master smith herself?
“Even if that weren’t the case, who takes back a purchase over a year old?”
“If it’s defective, it should be returnable no matter the years, no? Your Basque Forge slogan bragged about trust and sincerity, didn’t it?”
“Defective! As if my work could have a single flaw...!”
“Don’t believe me? See for yourself.”
Kirson scowled at Cecilia’s unshakable confidence,
but the moment she drew the sword—
Shing!
—her face went rigid.
The other two were the same.
Kirson fell silent.
“......This.”
“You’re still claiming it’s not defective?”
“......”
Kirson examined each sword in turn, wordlessly.
The blade wear,
the impacts on the flats,
the balance—everything.
At last, she looked up with a genuinely serious expression.
“Who used these swords?”
“Who else? My son, naturally.”
“That boy behind you?”
“Mind your tongue. He’s the one destined to lead the next Ragnar generation. The star of the Awakening Ceremony five days from now.”
Theo flushed at his mother’s lavish praise but kept his composure, bowing politely.
“Theo Ragnar of Camellia Palace. It’s an honor to meet the famed owner of the Basque Forge.”
“......Theo Ragnar. Right. I’ve heard the whispers among the young smiths. Cut off Hanabi’s daughter’s right arm, turned Ranke’s second son into bloody pulp?”
“Just exaggerated rumors...!”
“I told you. He’s the promising talent who’ll rewrite Ragnar’s history.”
Cecilia lifted her chin high once more.
Theo now desperately wished for a hole to hide in from his mother’s overprotectiveness.
“My son wielded that trash. But imagine if he’d entered the Awakening Ceremony oblivious to their state? Think you could stomach the mockery? It’d drag the Basque Forge’s name through the mud—and yours as a master smith.”
“These marks aren’t from...!”
Kirson started to protest, then shook her head and turned away.
“Never mind. Not for here. Follow me.”
* * *
Clang, clang, clang—
Theo and Cecilia trailed after Kirson, crossing the forge interior.
Even at this late hour, nearly a hundred smiths scurried about busily.
Likely rushing to clear the backlog before the Awakening Ceremony.
No one spared a glance at Kirson’s sudden visitors.
Theo seized the chance to voice his burning question.
“What’s your tie to the master smith?”
A faint smile curved Cecilia’s lips.
“Exactly as you heard.”
“So she truly is your foster mother...?”
“A fleeting bond of less than half a year, but yes—the mother who took this one in.”
A distant smile tinged with old memories.
“You know I was an actress before marrying into House Ragnar?”
“Yes. You mentioned it once.”
“That’s when I met Mother. She adores anything beautiful. Gems, goldwork, paintings, music, plays.”
Cecilia added softly,
“Or people.”
“......”
“So she made me her adopted daughter. Said I rather pleased her? It suited me fine too—gaining such a sturdy patron.”
Theo sensed the profound affection laced through Cecilia’s casual words.
That half-year as mother and daughter must have been a cherished memory for her as well.
‘Mother’s keen eye for art must come from Kirson.’
“But what made you part ways?”
“By then, I’d caught the Family Head’s eye.”
“......”
“The Family Head was utterly dashing back then. Beautiful, imposing... I fell utterly for him.”
Mother opposed it fiercely, though.
Theo bit his lip at Cecilia’s appended whisper.
-No.
-But Mother...!
-Do something else you love. I’ll back you fully. Your own theater troupe, wasn’t it? How much? I’ll fund it.
-No need anymore. Him alone...
-Don’t be ridiculous! You’re possessed! Blinded by Ragnar’s false glow!
-But!
-Think they’ll treat you like a person there? It’s a savage thicket of beasts. I won’t let you go!
-Keep opposing, and I’ll have no choice. I’ll steel myself.
-What are you...
-Thank you for raising me, Mother.
Flashes of the past flickered through Cecilia’s mind.
Memories now faint and faded.
“After that, hardly any word until I visited again last year.”
-What brings you here? After running off like that.
-I need a sword.
-A sword?
-Yes. A gift for my son. For old times’ sake, could you make one? I’ll pay properly.
-......Fine. Handle it yourself.
“And so she made those three ceremonial swords.”
“Exactly. But... who’d have dreamed they’d end up like this? Once they’re here, I’ll ask if she trashed them to spite her ungrateful daughter.”
Theo scratched his cheek with a finger.
He could feel both love and resentment toward Kirson in his mother’s words.
Truth was, he knew full well those ceremonial swords weren’t defective.
‘The blade nicks are from drake scales... How to broach it?’
The dungeon restriction barred him from speaking of it outright—tricky.
Yet he couldn’t let Kirson shoulder baseless grudge forever.
‘The master smith still holds Mother dear.’
Watching Kirson’s back trail smoke, Theo pondered.
‘But... why didn’t she show at Mother’s funeral in my past life?’
* * *
“I’ll reforge them fresh. No use explaining—it’d just sound like excuses to my former foster daughter.”
The moment they entered the executive office, Kirson addressed the mother and son thus.
Puff—
White smoke billowed with every word.
Cecilia waved it away, wrinkling her nose.
“Fine words, but this smoke...!”
“One thing only I’ll ask.”
Kirson cut off Cecilia’s scolding, her lips curling as she eyed Theo.
「What relic of the Primordial Dragon do you possess?」
Telepathy.
Cecilia shot suspicious glares between them.
Her training stopped at basic breathing, but as lady of a sword house, she knew the arts well.
Kirson wanted a word alone with Theo.
She tactfully stepped back.
「Ah! Awakening Ceremony not yet? Just mouth it then. I can read lips that much.」
Theo nodded quietly, forming silent words.
‘The Primordial Dragon—ancestor of the main house’s guardian dragon?’
Kirson’s brow furrowed.
「You don’t know of the relic?」
‘I’ve heard the “legend”—that the founder hid treasures once used by the Primordial Dragon for Ragnar descendants everywhere...’
Theo couldn’t parse her words.
Was she referring to the fairy tale every Ragnar child knew?
Somehow, no.
「Legend? Legend! Ha! That’s your take? Drop the act.」
Irritation laced Kirson’s voice as she drew one sword.
「No relic, yet explain these marks?」
The traces she indicated were mostly from battering drake scales or tooth bites.
「These telltale patterns—only relic-awakened leave them!」
Theo’s eyes bulged.
She knew of the dungeon!
Thump-thump-thump!
His heart raced wildly.
Yet Theo stayed composed.
Not the moment to reveal.
‘The sword scars? Just from overly harsh training.’
「Denying to the bitter end, eh. Well, secrets to a stranger? Fair. I’d do the same.」
Puff—
Kirson drew deep on her pipe, exhaling.
The office choked with smoke.
Cecilia glared daggers but held her tongue.
「One thing I’ll tell you. Awakening a relic—anyone can’t.」
Kirson’s gaze deepened.
A far cry from the shrewish, gold-crazed elf he’d seen.
Theo wondered if this was her true face.
「Plenty fail despite desperate tries. Most, really.」
One corner of her mouth quirked up.
「But you succeeded... Care to test? If another relic chooses you.」
Ignoring his reply, she clapped sharply.
Clap!
The door swung open; the waiting secretary appeared.
“You called, Director?”
“Fetch ‘that’ from the warehouse.”
“‘That’... you mean? But Director, that’s...!”
“No backtalk. Bring it.”
“......Understood.”
The secretary eyed Theo and Cecilia warily before departing.
Cecilia asked,
“What’d you send for?”
“You claimed defective goods. So I’ll compensate, hush rumors, and gift something to my first ‘grandson’ from his granny.”
Kirson beamed around her pipe; Cecilia narrowed her eyes.
The pointed stress on “grandson” reeked of ulterior motive.
She glanced at Theo—okay with this?
“I’m fine, Mother.”
“See? Our grandson’s fine with it. You’re just oversensitive.”
Theo smiled evenly, soothing her.
‘Another relic... No clue her game, but if true.’
Risk exposure of his jealously guarded messages.
Still, worth the gamble.
‘She treasures Mother—trustworthy enough.’
As Theo’s eyes grew solemn, the secretary returned.
“Brought as ordered. If that’s all.”
He set it down and bolted.
A long wooden case.
Oddly distinctive.
Iron chains bound it tight; a rusted padlock sealed the lid.
Nothing else notable.
Cecilia cocked her head—what could it be?
But.
“......”
Theo’s pupils quivered at the sight.
Glow—
Blue light seeped from within the lock.
Identical to the Camellia Palace storeroom’s dungeon gate.
「As expected—you see it. I see naught.」
Kirson’s chuckle wormed into his ear.
「This? I tried opening, failed. Craved it, never claimed it.」
Theo stared at Kirson.
Eyes asking: what’s inside?
「What I craved: demon blade... nay,妖劍 with yokai sealed. From mythic age, Primordial Dragon yanked its own fang to forge it. Right there.」
Puff—
Kirson exhaled thick smoke once more.
「Moonwhite Sword, they call it.」
“......!”
Theo’s eyes flew wide.
A name he knew all too well.
-Why is the Black Dragon’s sword here?