Chapter 208
Chapter 208
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 208
Chapter Title: Prelude to War (4)
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Duncan was dragged outside by the Atalain warriors.
On the surface, it looked like he'd been kidnapped by some thugs. But the reality was the exact opposite. The boy was as cheerful as if he'd run into his fun-loving uncles, while the barbarians wore awkward expressions, like they'd been saddled with a small, unruly animal they didn't know how to handle.
Goltaran, who had stayed behind in the reception room to watch, let out a hollow chuckle and clicked his tongue in amazement.
"He'll grow up to be quite the man. That fearless merchant's blood runs true, it seems."
"I'm so sorry every time, Lord Goltaran. Our Duncan always causes you trouble..."
"No, no, it's fine. Under the harsh laws of the barren wilds, fearing no one you meet is a fine virtue in a warrior."
Yulia bowed her head gratefully, then bowed again as if that wasn't enough.
"Oh, and... I don't even know how to thank you properly, Lord Goltaran. Truth be told, I worried the whole way here—what if you said you'd never been entrusted with any treasure? What if you turned us away at the door...?"
"..."
Goltaran had faithfully upheld his oath to Duncan.
Not only had he safeguarded half the treasure—Duncan's share—with his life, but when family arrived to prove their blood ties, he handed it all over without hesitation. On top of that, he'd asked Counselor Enrico to ensure they had proper food, shelter, and security, even playing the role of a sturdy backer to keep away any greedy flies.
From Yulia's perspective, he was a benefactor whose kindness she'd spend a lifetime repaying. But Goltaran saw it differently.
"No, I should be the one thanking you. Without your husband's aid—that merchant—I'd have lost my warriors and wandered the alliance lands as a penniless vagrant. If you're ever short on funds, just say the word. I'd even dip into the spare war funds..."
"No, no! What we've received is already more than enough—way more than we deserve! Honestly, I don't even know how we'll spend it all..."
The noble lady, one of Delutana's wealthiest, and the head of Delutana's largest military force exchanged warm words of gratitude for some time after. Despite their lofty titles, their conversation was refreshingly simple, free of political scheming or hidden agendas.
But Yulia sensed it intuitively. A busy leader like Goltaran wouldn't visit just to check on her well-being.
"So... what brings you here, Lord Goltaran? Whatever it is, you look awfully busy these days..."
"..."
Goltaran downed his drink and paused, glancing toward the window.
"How about taking a trip to Untana for a while? Blow off some steam with your son."
"...Pardon?"
"It's no bustling metropolis like this—just peaceful enough, with clear surroundings. Perfect for a rest."
It was the last thing she'd expected. Yulia blinked in confusion.
"A trip out of nowhere...? And Untana's north of here, isn't it? Even farther north than Delutana in the dead of winter...?"
"That's right. There's a famous lake nearby called Silver Mirror Lake—supposedly the winter scenery there is breathtaking. Duncan would love it, no doubt."
"I appreciate the thought, but... we came from the south originally, where it was warmer than here. We can stoke the fire plenty inside, of course, but... traveling far in this weather feels..."
"..."
His bronze face darkened and hardened. Yulia flinched, wondering if she'd said something wrong, her shoulders hunching.
Of course, that wasn't it. The weight of his unspoken words was simply too heavy. Goltaran roughly rubbed his face, thinking he lacked the counselor-like talent for softening bad news, and bluntly laid out what weighed on him.
"War might break out."
"..."
"The Lucaonia Empire might invade the Free City Alliance, madam."
A silence that stole even the cozy warmth from the hearth.
Yulia's arms went slack for a moment, nearly dropping her teacup. She barely set it down and stared at him in dismay. His tone was calm, but the words that followed were anything but.
"It's not certain yet. But the odds are high. Two of the Elga Church's archbishops were purged by an extreme hardliner who craves war. With the church's influence, the emperor's little more than a crowned puppet. From here on, Empire knights and soldiers could swarm the borders any day without surprise."
"Wh-who said that? Who could bring such news...?"
"A reliable spy in the holy city. I heard it through Councilor Pellico and Counselor Enrico."
"..."
Those two—the Turis family brothers—were now central political figures in the "Golden City." If the intel came from them, it was hardly baseless rumor.
"If war erupts, Delutana will be the Empire's top target. It's the closest major city to the border and a bridgehead via the Golden Highway to other cities."
"..."
"I've heard the council's negotiating with the Empire for all they're worth, but prospects don't look bright. I'll assign you an escort—head to Untana and wait out the storm. If you and young Duncan stayed and something unfortunate happened... I couldn't face the Great Warrior or your husband."
Yulia's hands trembled with surging anxiety. Yet her worry wasn't for her own safety, but someone else's.
"But... what about him? My husband? We promised to reunite here with Duncan..."
"Some Indomitable Legion warriors will remain stationed in Delutana. I'll tell them to inform your husband of your whereabouts if he appears."
"N-no! You said Empire knights might invade Delutana! If he runs into invading Elga knights..."
"Worry not, madam. Your husband is with Atala's Great Warrior himself—the stand-in for the War God."
"..."
Yulia knew of the warrior who'd razed Maltana bare-handed. Still, a faint unease lingered. Goltaran stared at her, then murmured reminiscently of his life-or-death clash with a certain merchant amid the ruins overrun by high demons.
"Besides, that man is far stronger than you might think. He's a rock-solid warrior—he won't fall to Elga's hounds."
"..."
"As young Duncan said earlier... huff... your husband even beat me in a fight, didn't he?"
Yulia's eyes widened as she stared at the Atalain man before her—built like he could snap a man's spine with two fingers.
She'd heard it from her husband's lips, confirmed by his comrade the Great Warrior, and even acknowledged by the loser himself... yet she couldn't picture her bean-sized husband defeating this terrifying brute.
*
The "Golden City" Delutana had developed its metallurgy to a high level, thanks to its overflowing capital and demand.
The problem was its focus: entirely on jewelry and precious metal crafts.
Weapons and armor were niche items, demanded almost solely by the council guards. And no matter how well-made, they couldn't compete with dwarf relics imported from the north. Luxury crafts and ornaments, however, were snapped up daily by the rich and noblewomen, yielding profits no mere ironwork could match.
As a result, blacksmiths chased shiny trinkets, making skilled weaponsmiths rarer than mages in Delutana. In peacetime, supply barely met demand, but now things were different. With warlike tensions brewing with the Empire, demand for arms and gear had skyrocketed.
Thus, the boom at this new workshop was, in a way, inevitable.
Clang! Clang! Whoosh, rrrumble...
"Damn it, you moron! Who the hell fastens an elbow joint like that? Not loose like your asshole—tight like a steel tendon! How many times do I have to tell you...?"
The old man's bellow echoed through the noisy workshop, filled with the clang of metal and roar of flames. Despite the heavy insult, the young blacksmith humbly bowed without offense. The other smiths and apprentices corrected as pointed out.
But one middle-aged blacksmith—once renowned in Delutana—reacted differently.
"Damn, you lame old coot! If you're so great, do it all yourself! Your nosy ass is ruining my hammering!"
The old man shot back without missing a beat, as if used to it.
"Oh yeah, fuck! A drooling infant who's never hammered right blames others? Even if ten lame-asses like me nailed your mouth shut, would your bauble-tinkering skills improve a speck?"
"Wh-what?! You bastard! Fine—show us your 'proper hammering'! Screw up once, and I'll smash your other fucking leg!"
For heavy plate processing, "proper hammering" was grueling labor. Two sturdy men clinging to the iron, a skilled smith pouring every ounce of strength—it took ages.
But the old man grinned, grabbed his iron hammer from his belt, and limped to the anvil alone.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
He finished flawlessly, faster than three experts combined.
Godlike skill rivaling legendary dwarves. The middle-aged smith had just witnessed it since the old man joined. The elder patted his stunned shoulder.
"See that? If your lame leg blocked the view, speak up. I'll pluck the sparks from your eyes with tongs myself."
"..."
"What're you lot standing around for? Fourteen more long spears and nine armor sets by today, plus as many arrowheads as we can! No slacking—good show's free, so work your asses off!"
That was why. No smith or apprentice dared complain.
This workshop head wasn't some nitpicky retiree—he was a metallurgy master unmatched in Delutana.
Orders flooded the young shop for good reason. Turis family backing helped, but without this master, such prosperity was impossible. Even more astonishing: his everyday gear was mere warm-ups.
He poured his soul into one true masterpiece.
A life's work of seventy years' skill, passion, and spirit—to repay the benefactor who'd granted him new life.
'Something big. His current weapons are too small and light.'
"...Hoo."
The old man rolled up his sleeves for the nearing completion of his magnum opus.
Then his granddaughter rushed from the back, stopping him.
"Grandpa! Wait, wait!"
This granddaughter, unknown for half his life, was quite sociable. She'd warmed to her grandfather quickly, helping with errands and guests.
"An important guest in the break room! The... head of the Indomitable Legion..."
"...What? That guy's back?"
The old man gently stroked her hair with his callused hand and limped inside with her support.
Sure enough, a familiar burly figure sat in the workshop lounge. Once the alliance's biggest celebrity, now a symbol of fear and awe to Delutana folk—but to the old workshop head, just a walking order bomb: Indomitable Legion leader Goltaran.
The elder eyed his top customer-cum-headache with exasperation.
"Ugh... what now, you Agon whatever? Backlog's huge—no new orders for you anytime soon."
"...Even if I double the premium?"
"Triple, quadruple—no dice. Know three guys collapsed meeting your last deadline?"
"...How about ten times?"
"Goddamn, even a hundred—no... Ugh, fine. Chug this in one go, and I'll reconsider."
The old man shoved over a leather flask. It sloshed with a foul stench. Having tasted it once, Goltaran's deep revulsion showed plainly.
"Pass. I'd sooner lap demon piss than that cursed goat-milk swill..."
"Ironhammer Grandpa" Gullak, who'd thwarted a VIP disaster with his ultimate jerk repellent, grinned through broken front teeth.
*
With Duncan's family there, he couldn't avoid Delutana entirely.
But no reason to skip payment from the high knight he'd dealt with.
Kadim asked: if resisting Empire knights to protect the innocent, what price? Hendark answered smoothly.
"Elga's finest lances, the Empire's asymmetric force, ten radiant stars over the knight-commanders: the church's handpicked Ten Arch Paladins... 'Decagram'."
"..."
"Including me, each surpasses other knights in prowess. But what makes them untouchable is the mark granting transcendent power: the 'Stigmata'. So if you stand against them to shield the weak, first..."
Revealing his stigmata as proof, he declared gravely.
"...I'll tell you everything I know of the 'Stigmata' abilities and limitations."