The Pride of a Master Smith
Raon let out a quiet snort of laughter as he watched Dorian's lips tremble. The boy seemed convinced he'd committed some unforgivable sin, the whites of his eyes showing as he stole nervous glances around the room.
He really is something else.
All Raon had done was have him repeat the details of the test Adis had described. He never expected Dorian would go so far as to tack on he says to tell you.
"You didn't need to say that last part."
"I-I'm sorry!"
True to form, even Dorian's aura message carried a tremor.
"Well. What's done is done."
The only way forward was to brazen it out.
Even though he'd been caught giving Dorian orders, Raon lifted his chin with complete confidence.
"Is this bastard actually insane?"
Wrath's eyes narrowed as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.
"Did that madwoman mess with your head when you got kidnapped?"
He already knows I'm the one giving the orders.
One look at Borgos's eyes was enough. The dwarf had already figured out who was really calling the shots in this deal. The words he says to tell you had simply turned suspicion into certainty.
"If that's how it is, don't just stand there. Sit down."
Borgos pointed at an empty seat, echoing Wrath almost word for word.
"I'm an outsider to this matter."
Raon waved a hand, smiling.
"An outsider? From where I'm sitting, this one looks like the outsider."
Borgos let out a hollow laugh as he glanced at Dorian.
"How could that be? Dorian is the one who will become the successor of the Sepia Merchant Guild."
"That successor is sitting in the palm of your hand!"
I'm only acting with Dorian's interests in mind.
"Don't make This King laugh! Wipe that greed from your eyes before you speak!"
Raon rubbed the corners of his eyes with his sleeve, then blinked.
There. Wiped it away.
"Grrrh! This King wants to beat you to death!"
Wrath, seething, shook his plump little fists so hard they trembled.
"Hah. I never thought I'd work up this much of a sweat dealing with someone so young."
Borgos let out a deep sigh.
"I'm asking you. Sit down in front of me."
"It would be rude to refuse an elder's request twice."
Raon sat down beside Dorian as if he'd been waiting for the invitation all along.
"Then I'll stand!"
Dorian popped to his feet just as promptly, beaming. The two of them wore the peaceful expressions of people who had finally found their proper places.
"Yes. This is how it should be."
Borgos gave a weary chuckle and nodded.
"Let's speak plainly now. White Sword Dragon. What you want isn't money."
A man of Raon Zieghart's caliber would never be after gold alone. He was clearly aiming at something else.
Something else… ah.
As Borgos replayed Raon's movements in his mind, he remembered the scabbards the young man had happened to let him glimpse.
The longsword had Vulcan's feel to it. The shortsword, Kuberad's.
Then that could only mean…
Borgos lifted his gaze to Raon. The moment he met those eyes, still and deep as a lake, prediction hardened into conviction.
That's it.
A satisfied smile spread across his face as he ran a hand over the contract.
"……"
Raon watched him with the same unreadable calm as always and smacked his lips.
That's not it, though.
He really had only been thinking about the money.
He had no idea what was going through Borgos's head, but all he'd wanted was gold.
Well, of course. The drake was just a side benefit.
The entire reason he'd come to this guild was to make Dorian the successor. Thanks to the test of bringing in a drake, he'd even obtained a Drake Heart—the material he needed to craft Sylvia's dantian. What happened to the corpse itself didn't matter in the slightest. As long as he was paid what it was worth, that was enough.
"I knew it!"
Borgos took the silence as confirmation and nodded vigorously.
"What is that dwarf shit-sack babbling about now?"
Wrath's eyes narrowed at Borgos.
Beats me…
"This King is asking what he thinks you are, you money-grubbing bastard!"
"The reason you kept your cloak drawn back was to show me those two swords, wasn't it? The longsword is Vulcan's work. The shortsword is Kuberad's. Am I wrong?"
"That's correct."
Showing off the swords had never crossed his mind, but the Heavenly Sky Sword and the Requiem Sword were, in fact, the work of Vulcan and Kuberad. So he nodded.
"Might I take a look?"
"Of course."
Curious to see how far Borgos would take this, Raon unfastened both blades and held them out.
The steel whispered as it left the sheath.
Borgos drew the Requiem Sword first. The moment his eyes caught the crimson light sleeping in the blade, his pupils trembled.
"A cursed sword. And not just any cursed sword—one that burns with the flames of resentment, consuming itself in the process. For Kuberad to have forged something like this… something that couldn't be helped must have happened."
He ran his fingers along the blade with a bitter expression.
"He poured everything he had into this. Even among Kuberad's works, this would sit near the top."
Borgos slid the Requiem Sword home with a murmur of admiration, then drew the Heavenly Sky Sword.
"A clean finish, and a lofty one. That's Vulcan's hand, no question. This is a blade that grows alongside its master. Depending on how it's used, it could become a divine sword—or a demonic one. And it seems your path hasn't been decided yet."
He smiled as he took in the length of the blade.
"That was a fine thing to see."
Still smiling, Borgos returned both swords.
"White Sword Dragon. What you want is a weapon that won't lose to those two."
He nodded as if he'd understood perfectly.
"No, I—"
"Showing me those two swords to provoke this Borgos… not a bad approach."
"Uh…"
"This Borgos will not lose to the likes of Vulcan and Kuberad! Tell me what you want!"
Borgos slammed the table as if to say the only thing left was to place an order.
Raon looked into those eyes, burning like a forge, and let out a breath that was almost a laugh.
It's turning out like this?
He'd done nothing but sit there, and now he was about to walk away not only with gold, but with a weapon from a continental master. The world really did turn in the strangest ways.
"Then would it be all right if I asked for a set of daggers?"
An opportunity was an opportunity. He'd been thinking he needed a proper set of daggers anyway.
"You've trained in assassination arts as well?"
"I know a little."
"Good! There's nothing this Borgos can't make!"
"Ah, and one more thing…"
Raon turned and pointed at Dorian, who was still standing there in a daze.
"This one's sword broke. I'd like to get him a new one. Would that be possible?"
"Hrm. My disciple will handle that. He may look frail, but he's the finest craftsman in the guild after me."
Borgos pointed to the head disciple standing behind him. Raon had not expected the word frail to be applied to a giant who looked like he could crush an orc with his bare muscles.
"I-I really don't mind!"
Dorian ducked his head, insisting he was simply grateful.
"Then that's five gold ingots, one set of daggers, and one sword."
Borgos amended the contract and held it out.
"That works. And let's drop the formalities."
Raon nodded in satisfaction and took Borgos's hand.
"Wh-what?"
Wrath's mouth fell open as he stared at the handshake.
"Why does everyone who meets this bastard turn into a sucker of their own accord?! Why do the suckers keep multiplying?!"
Once the negotiation was finished, Raon left the headquarters with Borgos.
"I didn't think you'd ask me for that on top of everything else."
Borgos shook his head as if he still couldn't quite believe it.
"It's always best to leave these things to an expert."
Raon dipped his head slightly, smiling.
"Can't argue with that. I just didn't expect the White Sword Dragon to be such a smooth operator."
"I don't really know my own personality that well either."
It wasn't a lie. His temperament and character had been shifting, slowly, alongside the growth of his Sword Realm Manifestation.
They were heading back toward the training ground where the drake lay when merchants came pouring in from every direction.
"Young Master Dorian!"
"A pleasure to meet you! I'm Ratine, proprietor of Camerin, specializing in fine garments! I look forward to working with you!"
"It's been too long! Sijern—I handle the wheat trade!"
"Young Master Dorian! Congratulations on becoming the successor! I conduct trade with Camelun, and—"
"Young Master!"
"Young Master, if I could just have a moment…"
Merchants swarmed Dorian from every side. Some even shoved gifts at him, desperate to get in the new successor's good graces.
"V-Vice Leader!"
"You'll be fine."
Dorian vanished under a tide of people, but Raon paid it no mind and continued toward the training ground with Borgos.
"You're not going to help him?"
"He's going to have to deal with this from now on. He might as well get used to it."
Raon smiled as he pushed open the training ground door.
"I thought so earlier, too—you're really not like a child at all. Talent can explain the martial prowess, but experience doesn't just appear out of nowhere…"
Borgos narrowed his eyes at him.
"I've had a somewhat difficult life."
Raon shrugged and came to a stop in front of the drake.
"Then I'll leave it to you."
"Honestly."
Borgos clicked his tongue and drew a dagger from his coat. It was so thin and fine the other side of the blade was nearly visible, and a faint crimson light bloomed along its edge.
A low hum shivered through the air.
With that dagger, he carefully parted the flesh at the drake's neck and drew out a hexagonal object radiating a brilliant blue light.
Raon took in that glow with both eyes and closed his hand into a fist.
A Drake Heart.
It wasn't on the level of a dragon, but it was a natural mana reservoir capable of holding an enormous quantity of energy.
This will be enough.
It carried a frost attribute, but that too was high-purity natural energy. There would be no problem using it as material for Sylvia's dantian.
"Thank you."
Raon bowed his head to Borgos and accepted the Drake Heart. He could have extracted it himself, but he hadn't wanted to leave even the smallest blemish on it, so he'd asked the expert.
"If you ever decide to sell that Drake Heart, I'll introduce you to the right people. You'd get a better price than at auction."
Borgos offered to make an introduction, still trying to be helpful.
"That's all right. I have a use for it."
This was for Sylvia and Sylvia alone. He wouldn't sell it for a fortune in gold. In truth, once he had this, it didn't matter what the rest of the drake sold for.
"Is that so. Understood."
Borgos smiled and nodded.
"Then shall I send the promised goods to House Zieghart?"
"Yes. Address them to the Light Wind Squad at Zieghart."
"I'll do that."
He chuckled and pulled a cloth from his coat. The moment the fabric settled over the drake's body, the massive corpse—over thirty-five meters long—shrank down to about five.
The craftsmen of the Gray Hammer Guild had been waiting for exactly that. They lifted the board the drake rested on and fell in behind Borgos.
"We'll meet again."
Borgos waved at his leisure and left the training ground.
"There goes a sucker."
Wrath spat, declaring him the sucker among suckers.
He's not that bad.
"How is he not?! He handed over money and goods all on his own!"
Because he still can't compare to you.
No sucker in the world could hold a candle to Wrath, who gave without reservation no matter who came asking.
Raon was patting Wrath on the head and turning back toward the headquarters when a middle-aged man with neatly groomed hair approached.
"Lord Raon."
"Hm?"
Raon's mouth fell open. The man's appearance had changed considerably, but there was no mistaking that murky energy. This was Mark Goetten—the Falling Blossom Blade Raon had broken in this very training ground.
"Might I ask when you will be finished considering?"
Considering?
Raon closed his mouth for a moment and thought back over what Mark Goetten had said, and a previous conversation surfaced.
He asked me to take him in.
Mark had come with Fahlen and begged to be allowed to follow him. At the time, Raon had more important matters to deal with, so he'd told the man to wait.
A month had passed since then, and it seemed Mark had never left this guild. He had been waiting for an answer the entire time.
Because he was a knight?
Mark Goetten had originally been a knight of the Warner Kingdom. Unlike swordsmen, knights obeyed their lord's word without question. He had been carrying out that order ever since.
So he was serious.
Apparently, his request to follow Raon hadn't been a lie.
Am I about to pick up a Master for free? No. Not yet.
Even if he was sincere now, that could change in a heartbeat. People didn't change easily—which was exactly why Raon wanted to test the man's true endurance.
"Mark Goetten."
"Yes."
"Your physical condition still isn't good."
"My apologies. I have been training, but…"
"Do you see that mountain?"
Raon pointed to a sheer stone peak west of Lokan.
"Climb it four times a day without using aura. It will do a great deal to restore that ruined body of yours. If you can't…"
"I will do it!"
Mark Goetten nodded, stripped off his shirt, and ran straight toward the mountain.
"V-Vice Leader!"
While Raon was still watching the man's back, Dorian came panting up.
"You just left me behind! That's so mean!"
Dorian scowled up at him.
"Sorry."
Raon offered him a gentle smile.
"Want to run away from all those people?"
"Yes. I'm not used to it, and it's a little hurtful that they only came looking for me now…"
Dorian let out a short sigh.
"Then I've got a great solution."
"A solution?"
"Don't you dare!"
Wrath's head snapped up.
"When that bastard smiles like that, it is NEVER a good thing!"
The warning was fierce, but of course Dorian couldn't hear it.
"Want to?"
"I'll do it!"
Smiling, Raon pointed at the same stone mountain Mark Goetten had just run toward.
"Mark Goetten will be over there. Keep an eye on him, and climb the cliff face four times a day."
Bare-handed rock climbing didn't just strengthen the fingers and wrists so critical to swordsmanship—it built the upper body, the lower body, and a sense of balance. For Dorian, whose physique still wasn't fully developed, it was excellent training.
"I-I misheard you, right?"
"I said climb the mountain. Now go."
"I-I'm not doing that."
Dorian shook his head wildly.
"I'd rather just stay here and meet people…"
"Come to think of it, you called me a psycho, didn't you? Then how about some Focus Enhancement Training…"
"I'll be right back!"
Clapping his hands over his ears, Dorian bolted for the stone mountain as fast as his legs would carry him.
Raon watched Mark Goetten ahead and Dorian chasing after him, and nodded in satisfaction.
"Now that's a beautiful sight."
"Were you a loan shark in your past life?"
The next day.
Guided by the butler Ligwin, Raon made his way to Adis Sefia's office. He had seen the man several times with Dorian, but being summoned alone was a first, and it left him a little tense.
Why is he calling me?
The successor had been decided. The deal was done. He couldn't quite figure out why Adis would want to see him.
"This King already knows."
Wrath's mouth curled into a long, mocking smile.
Knows what?
"What else would it be? He finally made that cowardly brat his successor, and now the boy's become your lackey. You think a father wouldn't be furious?"
Wrath cackled, declaring that assigning a watchdog to the heir of a major merchant guild was an act of madness.
Hmm…
It wasn't impossible. For all his outward composure, Adis did care about Dorian. And since Raon didn't know much about how other families worked, he had no real answer for that.
"You deserve a good scolding!"
Wrath grinned, looking forward to the show.
"This would be the perfect moment to watch with a raspberry pie in hand."
You really never change.
Raon kicked Wrath—who was sticking his tongue out and teasing him—and came to a stop in front of Adis's office. Ligwin didn't enter this time. He simply opened the door in silence.
"Please go in."