Thunder at the Forge
The Emperor of the Rosenhardt Empire, Theodor Rosenhardt, carefully scanned the document clutched in his hand. It detailed his late-born daughter, whom he had recently enlisted in the army. Every action and gesture was recorded there, save for her complete private life, and he gave a faint smile as he read it.
"Kicking down the battalion commander's door just to stop him from covering for her platoon leader? She's my daughter, but still..."
"......"
"What do you think?"
At the emperor's question, the commander of the Twilight Shadow Legion, standing silently in black attire, finally spoke.
"It is commendable that Her Highness did not shift the blame onto someone else, but this incident wouldn't have happened in the first place if she had a proper understanding of training."
"As expected. Merciless even toward royalty."
The emperor's light jest elicited no change in the commander's expression. He clicked his tongue at the sight.
"You used to tremble at a single joke back in the day, but now your face doesn't even twitch."
"It's because I've heard them more than once or twice."
"How dull. Anyway, Arselia raised the possibility of voice magic manipulation."
"Yes, she did."
"Is it a legitimate concern?"
"There is no precedent, but the mages who heard it did fall deep into thought."
The emperor slowly stroked his beard. Intelligence on neighboring nations flashed through his mind. No reports yet of any other country developing something akin to voice magic. For the time being, then, his daughter's suspicion wouldn't come to pass. But an emperor couldn't afford to sit idle. He had to prepare not just for the present, but for the future as well.
"Inform the mages of Arselia's doubt and have them devise countermeasures."
"I shall obey."
"Also... have them consider ways to enable real-time long-distance communication, not just voice recording."
"That as well, I shall obey."
With a wave of the emperor's hand, the Twilight Shadow Legion commander vanished from the spot in an instant. Left alone in his office, the emperor reread the document once more. He rarely showed it, but he was a father too. Reading about his daughter was one of his few joys. Before long, having memorized its contents, he rose from his seat—to share the news with his wife.
The confinement from the camp construction project ended today. It had been a long, long time. I'd planned to slack off and gorge myself, but Elina Verdia nagged me so relentlessly that my ears blistered. It felt just like those etiquette lessons from the head maid when I was little. Elina's going to turn into a nagging old head maid someday... It was like glimpsing the future.
Anyway, I finally stepped out of the house and headed to the mess hall for breakfast. The soldiers already seated there had bright faces. Spotting me, they greeted me with wide smiles.
"Deputy Platoon Leader, here for chow?"
"Yeah. Dig in, you lot."
"Yes, ma'am!"
Having the maids train the cooks was a smart move. After choking down hard bread and mystery eternal stew forever, proper food lit up their faces like the sun. Technically, using maids to meddle in battalion cooking was overstepping my authority. But with the battalion commander and all the officers on board to improve meal quality, there was no reason to refuse. They even budgeted extra pay for the maids as hardship bonus. Win-win: maids get bonuses, soldiers get tasty grub.
Of course... it still wasn't up to the standard of meals at my house. The cooks had learned from the maids, but a few days of watching wasn't enough for dramatic improvement. Still, I figured the quality would keep climbing while I was stuck with this unit.
"Deputy. Confinement over?"
I was midway through my meal when the platoon leader showed up. He'd usually eat and go, but today he must've just arrived. Leonid Balheim sat across from me. His expression was brighter too—clearly pleased with the food upgrade. But wasn't he from nobility? Did a slight improvement really brighten his day that much? Hmm, he's 25, right? Six years in the unit... maybe he's just that jaded from the grind.
"You know today's schedule?"
"Yes. Morning personal maintenance, afternoon mounted training."
"Right. Last time, your weapons couldn't handle your magic. Check 'em this morning."
"Got it."
Yeah. The sword from anti-cavalry training had its blade half-melted and ragged. I'd unleashed lightning without a second thought, and that's what happened. Lucky it was just the sword. My custom-fitted armor held up fine—if that had melted too, it'd have been a headache.
After breakfast, I headed straight for the forge. Even early morning, it was already scorching hot. Dwarves, go figure—they hammered away like it was just another day. They gave me casual nods as they passed; I returned them. Like with the kobolds, dwarves were a different race, so no need to flaunt my imperial status. But since they collaborated often with humans, mutual respect was key.
"Oho, Your Highness graces us."
Stepping inside, a shirtless, muscle-bound dwarf approached. Kartum, our battalion's chief smith.
"All good?"
"Same as ever. What brings Your Highness here?"
I skipped the chit-chat and pulled out the ruined sword. Kartum inspected it right away.
"Mana-induced high heat. Fire? Lightning?"
"Lightning."
"Impressive. Even a supply sword, but to wreck a dwarf-forged blade like this."
"That's why I'm here for a replacement."
"Let's step outside first."
Following him out, he set down his hammer and said,
"Unleash your max lightning on this hammer. I need to see your output with my own eyes."
"Can't do it right here."
"Why not?"
"Unit rules: magic use requires battalion HQ approval."
"You're the princess. Can't you just bulldoze through?"
"I could, but... I just got off confinement this morning. Playing it safe."
"Hmm? Even a princess gets confined? Wild."
Not fully convinced but cooperative, Kartum called over another dwarf smith.
"Head to battalion HQ. Tell 'em there'll be loud noises from magic at the forge—we're forging weapons, no need to check."
"Got it."
I nodded at Kartum's questioning look—good enough. Then I closed my eyes. Tuned out the hammering, the heat, felt only the mana swirling inside me. Static built up. Static to sparks, sparks to lightning. Arms outstretched, power arced between my hands. In combat, this would be focused mana. But now? Testing limits. A bit more, one more push. Max I could control gathered in my palms. Eyes open, I warned Kartum.
"Step back."
"Oho, righto."
He retreated over ten meters in a flash. Distance good, I thrust arms skyward then slammed them down.
Flash—blinding light, and the hammer's handle vanished. Kraka-ka-ka-BOOM! Delayed thunderclap, hammer head gone. Just a crater where it stood.
"Hahaha! Incredible! At this power, even mana stone plating wouldn't hold easy!"
"You're too kind."
"Kind? First time seeing firepower like this up close!"
Kartum laughed, clapping like a kid, genuinely thrilled.
"Anyway... with this output, supply swords are a joke."
"So what now?"
"I'll order top materials and craft you a beauty. Not today, though. Take a staff for now?"
"Sure."
Kartum ordered the dwarves—who'd rushed out at the thunder—to fetch every staff in the forge. They lit up at hearing I'd vaporized his hammer and bolted off. Soon,
"Best we can offer right now."
He spread his arms. About fifty staffs lined the floor.
"More than I expected."
"Few mages here, so staffs pile up without takers."
"Wouldn't it make sense to cut production?"
"When inspiration strikes? Gotta forge while it's hot!"
Creator's mindset, huh? More options for me—great. I eyed the staffs one by one. Temporary or not, might as well pick a decent one. Scanning them... one caught my eye.