Master Blacksmith (6)

Once I was clear of the settlement, there was no longer any need to mind my step. With Chukjibeop carrying me across the Demonic Realm, I returned to Stormrock Fortress in the blink of an eye.

The first to greet me as I passed through the gates was Chris.

"...What are you doing here?"

That was the very first thing out of his mouth when he laid eyes on me.

"What do you mean, why? It's the only road home."

"And where has Drek gotten to?"

Chris seemed genuinely startled by Drek's absence—as if he'd been counting on leaving everything in Drek's capable hands and watching it all resolve itself.

"He appears to have lost his way. The Demonic Realm's terrain is dreadfully easy to get turned around in."

Lost, all right. He'd simply had the misfortune of crossing the wrong lord of those parts.

"...Why did you claim you were heading into the Demonic Realm in the first place?"

"It concerns my mother's side of the family. I'm afraid the details are not mine to share."

The man was already green with jealousy over me as it was—if he learned I'd killed Grimscale on top of everything else, he'd fly into a towering rage. This was, after all, precisely the sort of news that could send his ducal ambitions up in flames.

He might well mobilize the entire knightly order for the sole purpose of burying me on the spot.

"By the way, the mood in the Demonic Realm was anything but ordinary. The monsters were massing in enormous swarms—you would do well to prepare against a surprise attack."

"And since when are you in a position to give me orders?"

"I am merely reporting what I saw with my own eyes. A major disturbance seems to have broken out among the demons."

"What could you possibly know of the Demonic Realm? If your business is done, get lost. And stop strutting around like you're already the Duke."

"I told you plainly. Do not create another mess you'll have to come crawling to Father over."

"I said get lost!"

Chris erupted in fury.

"I'm leaving. Do be sure to prepare."

As I strode out of the fortress, I went out of my way to give his temper one last scratch.

Chris was free to pretend he hadn't heard me. It wasn't as though he intended to do anything but drink anyway.

Still, among his men there had to be at least one sane soul—as long as my warning reached that one, the job was done.

I reached Ashford just as dawn was breaking. Having set out around evening, that meant the round trip to fetch Grimscale's head had taken roughly half a day all told.

For ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠now I made for Ruka's forge. I didn't know his home address, and I figured waiting him out there was my safest bet.

As it turned out, Ruka was already at the forge, busily putting the place to rights all on his own. He was hauling an armful of iron plate when he caught sight of my face, and his expression went the way of a man seeing a ghost.

"I'm back."

"...Iden!"

Ruka dropped the iron plate where he stood. Then he sprinted the distance between us and crushed me against his chest.

"Forgive me. You are my sister's only child—I'll never understand what possessed me to ask such a reckless thing of you."

Ruka peeled himself away. A storm of emotions churned in his eyes.

"Uncle, the thing is, I actually—Grimscale..."

"Not another word, Iden."

"Pardon?"

"So long as you came back safe, that is enough for me. You said there was something you wanted, didn't you? Then I'll make it for you. No conditions, none at all. I've been setting the forge to rights so that I could begin work the very moment you returned."

He seemed to believe I'd turned back without so much as crossing blades with Grimscale. Or that I had never set out at all.

Then again, who would believe that a man had crossed into the Demonic Realm and taken a Demon Count's head in less than a single night?

"Then what happens to the vengeance?"

"Hang the vengeance. A living nephew matters more to me."

Ruka spoke in a voice thick with regret.

"Forget it, I say. Forget the vengeance."

He stressed the words a second time.

"Your mother's face kept flickering before my eyes last night—I couldn't sleep a wink. I must have lost my mind. Blind with vengeance though I was, what on earth possessed me to say such a thing to my only nephew?"

He seemed to regret entrusting the vengeance to me enough to make every hair on his head stand on end.

Perhaps it had been excusable back then. He had conjured up a Magma Dragon, after all, in a full show of force.

But whether a thing is excusable and whether it ought to have been done are two entirely different questions.

"Just a moment, Uncle. At least let me—"

"It's all right, Iden. House Rain is already a closed chapter of the past. If my brothers could see how splendidly you've grown, they would surely—"

Without ceremony, I showed him the Avenger's Sword.

The Avenger's Sword had satisfied its strengthening condition in full the instant it pierced through Grimscale's heart. Perhaps that was why a keen edge, fit to cleave Mount Tai, seemed to hover along its smooth blade.

"This is..."

Ruka blinked again and again. With hands that trembled, he accepted the sword I offered.

"...It is what I think it is, then?"

"Yes, Uncle."

Driving the period home, I drew Grimscale's head from the Sanpedla's Travel Bag.

"Demon Count Grimscale is dead."

It made for an ugly sight, but no man can stay chained to the past forever. It was time to lay his spirit to rest.

"But how... how could such a thing even...?"

Ruka was too stunned to finish the sentence.

"The sun has barely risen... The Count... what of the legions of followers he commanded?"

"I did tell you I'd be back before the iron cooled."

I tucked the head back into the bag. Aesthetically speaking, there was nothing to be gained from leaving it out.

Ruka's expression abruptly turned resolute. He strode back into the forge and shouted toward the shop next door.

"Dolmen!"

A burly fellow with a cloth knotted around his head poked his face out.

"What d'you want?"

"From this day on, my forge is yours."

"Eh? You half-cut again?"

"Stone sober, as you can see. I'm headed home to my homeland. Do with the shop as you please."

Having delivered his notice to the man called Dolmen, Ruka returned to my side.

"Let's go, Iden."

"You're simply leaving the forge behind?"

"I am. Not a moment to lose. There's a mountain of work ahead if I am to make you the Duke."

"...Pardon?"

I thought I must have misheard. Ruka spoke in a ringing, settled tone, as though he had resolved everything in his mind at last.

"I have neglected my duty as this family's elder for far too long. Time to set things right, starting now."

"But you just said House Rain had become a thing of the past..."

"It is the past. What unfolds from this day forward is your history."

He smiled, small and quiet.

The journey home, this time without Chukjibeop, took a solid five days. I went to the castle first, intending to lend Ruka one of its many empty rooms for the time being.

"So this would be Master Ruka Rain."

Lily wore a look of knowing significance.

"I should like to give him a fine room—do we have any to spare?"

"They may not quite match Master Rain's standing, but we have plenty of good rooms. There really shouldn't be any going spare, mind you—but the young master doesn't care for parties."

Of course he didn't. In a land where we grappled by the collar with demons day in and day out, squandering money on festivities would have been the truly strange thing to do.

"Oh, and one more thing. The Duke impressed a message upon me most earnestly. Should you make contact, I am to tell you to present yourself at the ducal residence at once."

"Whatever for?"

"He did not say."

I had intended to call at the ducal residence regardless. Dealing with Grimscale had never been part of the plan. One way or another, though, I had stirred up a serious incident—and that was information my father, the man who carried every subject of the duchy on his back, simply had to have.

"Iden."

I was in the middle of making ready for the ducal residence when an unfamiliar man stepped into the room and called my name with easy familiarity.

"Who..."

"It's me. Ruka."

"Uncle?"

He looked so utterly transformed I could scarcely believe this was the same man who had traveled at my side in work clothes only days ago. Groomed from crown to boot-heel, he overflowed with the poise befitting the head of a great noble house.

"My thanks. I won't lean on your hospitality for long."

"You are welcome to stay as long as you please."

"Nonsense. A house will turn up soon enough. I didn't squander what I cleared from selling off the estate."

He chuckled and pressed his hat down snugly.

"Where are you off to?"

"You're headed for the ducal residence, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Then we'll go together. I have a great deal to say to Duke Esterzy."

I arrived at the ducal residence with Ruka in tow. Three people waited in the office: my father, who had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠summoned me; his escort, Talon; and—

"Lord Iden."

A man of weighty, dignified presence bowed his head to me.

"Chief Clerk Opils?"

It was Chief Clerk Opils, the man who had led the tax audit of the Gray Trading Company—and whom I'd fished back from the edge of suffocation not long ago.

"Treasurer, now. I owe you a profound debt for the other day."

Huh?

"...I've been promoted," he said, looking faintly sheepish.

"I promoted him," my father said, wearing a satisfied smile.

"Word reached me that the man clutched the ledgers to his chest even as the fire raged around him—how could I in good conscience leave such a fellow unpromoted?"

So that was how it had happened. Did this mean I had, entirely by accident, acquired a high-ranking connection inside the Treasury?

"And that gentleman there... if my eyes ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠do not deceive me, that would be the head of House Rain, would it not?"

"It has been a long time, Your Grace."

Ruka doffed his hat in salute. Something new kindled in my father's eyes.

"What brings this about? All the years I called for you, you would not so much as pretend to listen."

My father, it seemed, had known all along where Ruka had been in hiding.

"A circumstance arose that made it worthwhile."

"Now I am curious indeed. What on earth could be weighty enough to break your seclusion?"

"Your son, Your Grace."

Ruka looked my way. My father's grin stretched from ear to ear at once.

"Our Iden is exceptional, to be sure. I'm glad you have come to recognize ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it as well."

"Exceptional, you say?"

Ruka's voice climbed a full tone.

"Not exceptional, Your Grace. The word you want is miraculous."

My father looked faintly startled.

"I was already wondering what news kept my son away from his post a full ten days the moment he returned from the capital. And I hear he demanded the gates of Stormrock Fortress be opened for him... just what in the world happened out there?"

"I cut off Demon Count Grimscale's head."

For a long moment, nothing in the office so much as stirred.

"Hahahaha!"

My father burst out laughing, slapping his knee.

"My, you have grown quite the jester since I last saw you."

Talon, the escort commander, managed only a wry twist of the lips.

"With the young lord's abilities, cutting down a demon in the Demonic Realm is within the realm of possibility. But demons are incorrigible braggarts, my lord—the title may well have been exaggerated somewhere along the way."

"I did not come all the way from Ashford to trade jokes."

Ruka drew the Avenger's Sword. The pale light steeped into the blade blazed up dazzlingly.

"This is a sword I spent ten years honing with my Awoken Ability—forged to answer to one thing alone: the blood of Grimscale. Do you understand what it means, that it shines this brightly?"

Ruka's voice was grave to the point of solemnity. My father and Talon exchanged openly rattled glances.

"I know as well as any man alive that Iden possesses singular talent. He stands several cuts above the man I was in my youth. But Lord Rain—is the one of whom we speak not Demon Count Grimscale? I crossed blades with the man myself more than once, and his troublesome Awoken Ability left us unable to settle the matter either way. To believe such a man fell mere days ago, you will permit me to ask for concrete proof."

Ruka turned to me.

"Iden. Show them."

"Yes, Uncle."

I opened the Sanpedla's Travel Bag. What spilled out was Grimscale's head and body both.

"Eeheek!"

The bizarre shriek had come from Treasurer Opils. The desk-bound man went white to the lips at the sight of a headless demon's corpse.

My father and Talon, by contrast, did not so much as blink. They studied Grimscale's remains with the utmost gravity.

"Talon... tell me I am not seeing things," my father said.

"It is Grimscale, Your Grace," Talon answered, his voice unsteady.

"A fatal wound to the heart, followed by a clean decapitation. The Impenetrable Carapace was pierced in a single stroke."

"The only reason I could punch through the Impenetrable Carapace was the sword Uncle Ruka made for me," I added, since my father looked ready to topple over from sheer astonishment.

"Rubie helped too, of course."

"Cheep?"

Rubie, perched on my shoulder, chirped its confusion.

"Lord Rain—I am persuaded." My father nodded slowly. "For a son like mine, 'exceptional' is far too small a word."

I seem to have no resistance to a compliment.

"Will you walk me through how it came to pass?"

I laid out what had happened in the Demonic Realm in broad strokes. I was just reaching the part where I had disguised myself and spoken face-to-face with Grimscale—

"A false king?"

My father's interest sharpened.

"Yes. There appears to be infighting among the demons. The Demon King has supposedly issued a mobilization order to crush the false king."

"...So that man is already moving."

My father seemed to possess some clue as to the false king's true identity. For now, I pressed on with the rest of the tale—how I had fought, how I had won, and how I had escaped.

The scene where my own talisman had cinched a leash around my neck I glossed over with a mumble. That was a moment I would happily scoop out of my memory with a spoon, if I could.

"Genuinely valuable intelligence. Then this is no time to be sitting on our hands. Those creatures will not remain a mere rump of survivors forever."

My father rose from his seat.

"I was already making ready to go up to the front lines myself. Even a festering finger is still a finger. By now, perhaps that rascal Chris finally understands how his father toils."

I doubted Chris had learned any such thing, but I kept the observation to myself. No father takes pleasure in watching his sons seize one another by the hair.

"Talon. Go and see the knights readied."

"At once, my lord!"

Talon laid a hand over his breastplate.

"And Iden. While I am gone, I want you to stand in as acting lord."

"...Pardon?"

"An excellent decision, Your Grace!"

It was Ruka who piped up first.

"...I'm still young, Uncle. And my two elder brothers stand above me."

"Treasurer."

At my father's summons, Treasurer Opils stepped forward.

"The findings of the tax audit are in. To distill them... numerous irregularities tying Lady Mabel to the Querkus Trading Company have come to light, and the Revanshade Trading Company goes without saying. The only house that emerged clean was the Gray Trading Company—the one that had chosen to trade with Lord Iden."

"Your brothers betrayed my trust," my father said, his voice heavy.

"Age means nothing. What use is seniority in a man who bends his office toward private gain?"

"But I lack experience. I would need someone at hand to advise me in governing the territory."

"Nothing to worry over. Opils will stand beside you, and Lord Ruka's return will help matters along as well."

There was bedrock trust beneath my father's tone.

"Take up the seat for a time—so that I may go to war with an easy heart."

"...Very well."

I nodded. When your father puts it that way, what choice is there? All that remained was to do the job properly.

The moment I accepted, no doubt my standing in Mabel's and Chris's ledgers would be upgraded from 'man worth killing' to 'man who absolutely must die.' But they had enjoyed far more opportunities than I ever had. Wasting every chance they were given was nobody's doing but their own.