Chapter 122
Chapter 122
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 122
Chapter Title: Forge Master Gregory
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Tang! K clang! Sizzle!
Forge Master Gregory.
Kallias faced him.
Of course, he wasn't alone.
"Empire's Savior. Jervan Count. What brings a noble like you to this humble forge?"
Gregory glanced sideways, pretending nonchalance as he hammered away.
"Dwarf, Dexter. He's one of my men, so let him use the smithy."
A few days after waking from his coma, Kallias had sent word north to summon Dexter.
He'd heard that Dexter was still struggling with the Spirit Sword.
"Why should I?"
"The kingdom's swords aren't as high quality as the empire's. Dexter will share plenty of knowledge while he's here, so it only makes sense to accept."
"Hmph! What does a saint know? You think you can swing a sword with those hands? You've never forged one, yet here you are critiquing sword quality?"
A perfectly reasonable reaction.
Forge Master Gregory.
He was the most respected forge master in the church.
That meant he had immense pride. Kallias couldn't force Dexter into the place.
Not unless he changed Gregory's perception of him.
"You temper only with water. Is there a reason?"
"Then what? You gonna say we should quench cast iron in blood like the barbarians?"
Even as the kingdom's forge master, his skills were laughably primitive compared to modern standards.
"Quenching solely in water cools it too rapidly. Doesn't the cast iron warp or shatter?"
"Isn't that obvious? It's the forge master's job to work around it!"
"Sigh. Use oil."
"Oil?"
"Or brine. Plenty of methods. Blessed water works too."
The kingdom's carcass swords weren't up to imperial standards.
Not just due to lack of talent, but because they stubbornly stuck to traditional quenching and smelting.
That had to change.
Quenching only in water was a measure of their civilization's level.
'Water isn't bad.'
But it wasn't great either.
Cast iron properties vary.
Some suit water, others absolutely don't.
Spirit swords and above have complex properties intertwined, so water quenching easily deforms them.
Thus, use oil to maintain even temperature, or methods that weaken scale as needed.
Quenching aims to strengthen iron—deformation defeats the purpose.
The kingdom's techniques were too lacking.
So Kallias brought Dexter.
"You're working me too hard."
"Endure it."
Just tweaking quenching water and tongs speeds mass production and improves quality.
And.
Kallias drew a dagger and lightly sliced his palm.
"What! What are you—!"
His dripping blood brimmed with holy power.
He dropped it into the water bucket.
"Classic method, but not bad. Try approaching with more variety."
Gregory looked stunned, scrambling to fetch half-finished iron from somewhere. He pumped the bellows, heated it, hammered it into sword shape swiftly.
He swallowed hard and spoke.
"I don't fully trust your words, Count. But testing it isn't hard. This is rare cast iron I've struggled with... always failed at quenching."
Water alone twisted it. Gregory plunged the hammered iron into Kallias's holy blood water.
Sizzle!!
Black scale sloughed off, and the lifted sword.
"Ooh! No—no warping!!"
It gleamed pristine, shed of old impurities. Gregory admired it long, then nodded deeply at Kallias.
"You're not doing this out of pure goodwill. You want something from me."
"Dexter."
"Ahem."
A cloth-wrapped sword emerged from Dexter's bosom.
A broken sword.
The Spirit Sword.
"This... broken yet form holds. High-grade spirit sword. First-rate at least."
First-rate was just below masterpiece.
Still, a high grade.
"Fix it."
"This...? Dexter, was it? You couldn't, I take it."
"Alas, no."
Dexter couldn't repair the Spirit Sword.
So Kallias summoned him.
Alone, no—but with Gregory, different.
'Gregory.'
Old, but brimming with forge master potential. Old-fashioned, yet Dexter could grow with him.
Together, they'd change things.
Honestly, the Spirit Sword was expendable now.
He had the Light Dragon Sword.
Its superior replacement.
The Spirit Sword probably couldn't be fixed.
Yet Kallias gathered them for a reason.
"Too hot! Can people even live here?"
Beatrice.
Dwarf and forge master.
With a saint alchemist's harmony, something promising might emerge.
* * *
In the castle training hall.
The private space prepared for the queen held three people.
One was the queen, and her constant guardian sword, Victor, was there too.
And.
"Your Majesty."
"Yes."
"Don't get so close to the enemy. You can't swing properly."
"But the Count isn't an enemy?"
"We're sparring now."
The Count teaching her swordsmanship.
Kallias was with her.
"I just slipped."
The queen practically clung to Kallias.
He felt like dying.
His playboy trait kept urging his hands to her waist, whispering sweet nothings.
But he gritted his teeth and endured.
Wastrel and playboy incarnate, Kallias.
The wastrel was gone now.
Firm will should resist playboy urges.
He nudged her waist slightly, but she wouldn't notice.
"R-Really...?"
"Yes."
The queen, head bowed, stepped back with a cough, then raised her sword again.
"If anything's hard, speak freely. I'll explain in detail."
"The basic forms' absence confuses me."
Basic sword forms.
Crucial.
Defines the foundational sword paths.
For example, the kingdom has Carpe-style swordsmanship, spread by the founding king in war.
Centered on thrust and downward strike.
But Silver Flower Sword Wave? None.
Why? Creator was Stella the Sword Saintess.
"Silver Flower Sword Wave... is advanced swordsmanship from the start."
"But you said it's for the weak."
True.
Silver Flower Sword Wave is for the weak.
Thus, unfit for the strong, as he'd said.
However.
"Its creator, the weak one, was Stella."
Stella thought herself weak. So she made impossible swordsmanship.
Sword without forms.
That's Silver Flower Sword Wave's base.
Irregular paths, situational variations.
Knight temperament and ingenuity all-in variable sword.
'No swordsmanship bases on forming sword aura from the start.'
But Stella's did.
First stance freely manipulates aura—advanced martial art.
When creating it, Stella wielded aura instantly upon grasping sword.
Hence this sword art.
To let weak crush strong's aura and counter—from that, Silver Flower Sword Wave.
Impossible talent birthed this bizarre art.
Hard to teach, easily lost.
"Sword Saintess's art surpasses any continental swordsmanship. Took me years of suffering."
First grasp Flower Breaking Path's essence, realizations to execute, raise level.
Yet no basic forms up to Flower Breaking Path—troublesome.
Sword for weak, learnable only by geniuses.
Genius's sword for weak brimmed contradictions.
"I see... Even you struggled. Rumors must be true."
"Rumors?"
"Yes, that you're a sword genius but hid learning Silver Flower Sword Wave by acting wastrel deliberately."
Her eyes asked if true. Kallias couldn't confirm.
His silence prompted Queen Clara to change topic swiftly.
Considerate.
"Then... can I not learn swordsmanship? I'm no genius like Sir Esther."
Carpe's top genius, Esther.
Her intellect shone.
Nearing completion.
'With Sullivan too...'
Her presence delayed Carpe's fall years more.
In original story, she barely preserved Carpe till ruin.
Even she couldn't revive it.
Royal bloodline.
Sword God Valterus's grace centered on royals—lose it, Carpe loses core, declines.
'White hair, white eyes.'
White hair and eyes: divine blessing.
Grace embodied.
Jervan: eyes. Gradas: nose.
Luidren: ears. Orvid: mouth.
Royals Bright: brain.
Head holding senses.
Royals brilliant. Grand Duke Cloy erred with Light Dragon Sword, but sharp originally.
Possible.
"Your Majesty surpasses any in Carpe."
She just hadn't realized her power.
If Clara awakens true strength, Carpe gains new path.
'Carpe needs time.'
Kallias, queen, Carpe folk—all talented potentials.
Minus completed ones, late bloomers.
Carpe needs time.
"Thanks for faith, but... compared to ancestors, I'm not that great."
"Your Highness."
"Yes?"
Her long-plaited white hair swayed at his call.
White pupils held anxiety.
Impatience.
Grand Duke Cloy gone, young girl ascended throne ruling Carpe—aged, still young.
Despite Empire invasion fury, most anxious.
Knew her lacks best.
On loose throne.
How many fears hidden?
Unthinkingly, Kallias warmly cupped her cheek.
"Ah...."
Newly adult queen.
White eyes trembled pitilessly.
But Kallias willed firmly.
"Don't belittle yourself."
He'd never let her die.
Her death crumbles Carpe.
"Because I'm royal blood...?"
"No. Bloodline irrelevant."
"Then...?"
Kallias gazed silently. Her death's plotter: himself.
"No place for my sword in a world without you."
"......!!"
Embrace.
"......Feverish?"
Face flushed suddenly.
"N-No! No. T-Today ends here!"
"Time remains."
"Body! Body suddenly unwell. Victor!"
"You called...?"
Victor eyed queen and Kallias alternately, enigmatic smile.
"Next schedule?"
"With nobles..."
"Cancel."
"Understood."
Queen, ears red, turned back to Kallias.
Clear dismissal—he withdrew dazed.
"Whew, really."
Biting lip, queen fumed helplessly at the man, cooling her flushed face long.