Chapter 45
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 45
Chapter Title: A Sword That Resonates
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Rough and unadorned was just fine.
Just one thing mattered.
How well the sword resonated with its owner's energy. How faithfully it extended like an arm or a leg. Whether it retained only its primal, cruel purpose as a weapon that cleaved through flesh, growing sharper in exact proportion to the energy channeled into it.
You could tell at a simple glance.
Charlotte lingered in that spot for so long that Lancelot finally called the owner over with a helpless look on his face.
The owner appeared to be a woman on in years. Short and with her hair braided on both sides, she looked hale despite the white streaks in her locks. Her arms bulged with solid muscle.
The owner didn't seem particularly eager for business. She approached Lancelot and Charlotte with a reluctant expression.
"What brings you here, my lords?"
"We'd like to have a sword made here. Is that possible?"
"......Well, it is possible. But it'll cost quite a bit."
"Do you know who I am, and you're saying that?"
"Our forge charges ninety hasslon to make a single sword...... Is that all right with you?"
Lancelot stared at her in disbelief.
It was the exact same expression he'd worn when Jerome had ordered him to accompany Charlotte on her shopping trip.
"You think I'm a fool just because she's young? That price could forge ten decent noble swords over!"
In truth, Charlotte's sword could cost as much as it wanted. Whether Jerome spent a fortune or skimped, what did it matter to her?
The price was absurd, that much was true. Yet Lancelot couldn't understand why he was putting on this show of savvy negotiation right in front of her.
Even as he puzzled over his own behavior, he raised his voice.
"You're nothing but a con artist. Maybe you need to face noble contempt charges to straighten up?"
Lancelot wasn't wrong. The attendants who'd followed them, and even the escort knight, all knew swords well—and they glared at the owner with agreement written on their faces.
Lancelot glanced back, feeling smug.
Charlotte seemed utterly disinterested in his outburst. She was quietly fiddling with a sturdy lump of scrap iron she'd found amid the farming tools in the basket.
A surge of irritation welled up from somewhere deep inside.
He couldn't contain it.
It felt almost like resentment.
Like the frustration when his efforts hit a wall, when no matter how hard he tried, the gap between him and Brother Isaac never closed even a little.
It was then, as Lancelot silently glared at Charlotte and came to a halt—
"So you're the noble making all that racket about contempt and such. And it turns out to be one of our own."
A platinum-haired man emerged from the dim shadows at the back of the shop.
This noble traveled without even a single attendant. It was Isaac Setia.
Lancelot shut his mouth in shock upon spotting his brother in a place so ill-suited to his presence.
"Brother......?"
Isaac flicked a glance at Lancelot, then casually strode over to Charlotte as if it were the most natural thing. He scooped her up in one arm.
Only when her body separated from the iron lump she'd been engrossed in did Charlotte finally notice him. Her eyes went wide.
"Brother Isaac?"
"Yeah. What brings you here? Doesn't seem like you came looking for me, the way you're disrupting business."
Isaac spoke with cold eyes, looking at Lancelot in pity.
Still dazed and not fully grasping the situation, Lancelot explained.
"No, I was accompanying Charlotte to buy a sword on the Minor House Lord's orders...... But she's so inexperienced with this sort of thing that she kept eyeing oddities, leading us here. Sorry for the disturbance. Charlotte and I will head elsewhere—"
Lancelot spilled the words in a rush, but trailed off when he saw Isaac listening with a deeply pleased smile, corners of his mouth lifted high.
It was the majority opinion among the knights that even the eternal snows atop mountains were warmer than Isaac.
Isaac was truly ruthless.
Any Setia heir candidate over fifteen got a minor post in the knight order to prove themselves. But Isaac didn't just prove himself—he crushed others.
He hounded everyone so mercilessly that even established knights were demoted on the spot without a second thought if they fell behind.
And amid it all, he never slacked on his own training while drilling others. That was ruthless too.
So no one dared criticize Isaac's thoroughness, no matter the rumors.
Watching him treat Charlotte kindly wasn't entirely new, but she'd always panicked and dodged before...
This time, Charlotte and Isaac seemed genuinely close.
"Do the swords here catch your eye?"
"They seem pretty good."
"You've got a good eye."
"Do you use swords from here too, Brother?"
"Yeah. The downside is they take a while to make...... But mine aren't urgent, so push mine back if you have to and meet the deadline. You're here for a sword for Shadow Blade Day, right?"
"......Is it really okay to go that far for me?"
"Of course. I've been looking forward to that day so much. It'd be a shame if you couldn't wield a proper weapon."
Watching them exchange gazes at eye level, chatting so warmly—it twisted his guts.
Lancelot had never harbored such negative thoughts about Brother Isaac before. He'd only ever admired him.
'......What's wrong with me? Have I lost my mind?'
He bit his lip and glared at the shabby farming tools.
What made those things so special?
It was utterly ridiculous.
It was all because of Charlotte.
She kept doing things she never would, making a fool of him every day.
Lancelot suddenly wanted to leave this place. He whipped around.
Then Charlotte spoke up softly.
"Lancelot, you leaving? Thanks for coming along. Let's grab a bite before you go. I know a good spot."
'As if. Like I'd care about food. It's not like I can't afford it.'
Lancelot moved to escape this irritating mess.
But strangely, her worthless words pinned his feet to the ground.
Charlotte's order was unique.
The blade she wanted was slimmer and longer than what most women carried. And she asked the owner to engrave floral patterns directly onto the scabbard—something no one there had ever seen.
Beyond that, she left everything to the owner.
'It was like she knew swords inside out... or like a total novice blurting out random requests.'
Lancelot mulled over her order as he boarded the carriage with her.
Isaac had seemed reluctant to set her down, but just before the carriage departed, he placed her gently with a pleased smile and returned to the knight order.
'How did she know that's where Brother Isaac commissions his swords? If he orders from there personally, it must be top-notch. He never even told us......'
Suspicions abounded.
Someone tipped her off, or maybe it was sheer coincidence and whim...
Lancelot shook his head.
Thinking about Charlotte made his head spin.
It was all too bizarre.
Shouldn't there be at least one thing that made sense?
At this point, she might as well be a different person.
No.
'Even if she's someone else—hell, even my age—it doesn't add up. Suddenly wielding aura like that... Nothing makes sense.'
His mind a jumble, he stared blankly at Charlotte. As the carriage lurched into motion, she turned to him.
Their eyes met unexpectedly. Lancelot flinched as if caught red-handed thieving.
Against Charlotte, of all people.
He held her gaze anyway, thanks to habit and pride.
"Lancelot."
"......What."
"Aren't you going to apologize?"
Charlotte smiled brightly, brushing back her long pink hair.
Lancelot grasped her meaning a beat late. It didn't suit a good-for-nothing freeloader like her. Well, maybe she wasn't one anymore... Still, it felt alien coming from her.
"Have you gone mad? Why would I apologize to anyone?"
"No need to apologize, then?"
"......You mean about Prince Joseph? Ha, obviously. You stuck your nose in."
"Really? Okay then."
Charlotte shrugged nonchalantly, despite bringing it up.
Lancelot ground his teeth.
She really seemed to find him laughable.
Unthinkingly, he reached out and seized her wrist.
"Hey, you keep treating people like this—"
Thud!
His vision flipped upside down.