“Antonio!”
Bursting through the always-open smithy door, Isaac shouts.
Antonio, who had been hamring away intently, jumps to his feet and yells right back.
“Didn’t I tell you not to call like that when I’m holding a hamr?!”
“Ah! Then I’m dood! Because the sword you made for just broke, and I can’t block your hamr with it!”
Isaac lifts the split sword and waves it around, making Antonio briefly lose his bluster.
But getting an old blacksmith to admit his mistakes was never easy.
“You little brat!”
“What’s your excuse this ti? That I swung it wrong? That I faced the wrong opponent? That this is all part of a learning process? Then you should’ve told that from the start! Why do you always hand it over saying it’ll ‘never break,’ putting in danger every ti?!”
“Hrmm, well… That’s a point of pride for any blacksmith.”
Grabbing the broken hilt, Antonio pats his belly and shouts.
“Good grief! You took this one? That’s a worthless test piece I made! There’s a proper sword over there.”
“Oh, that’s a fresh excuse.”
“Hrmm.”
He himself had handed it over—now calling it a test piece was ridiculous.
It was as if Antonio had known it would break, and he was all ready with a new excuse.
Still, he looks sheepish as he hands over the new blade.
“This ti it really won’t break.”
“Why don’t you hold it and see for yourself?”
Isaac draws the sword, suggesting they try clashing it against Falchion right this mont, and Antonio hurriedly snatches the new blade away.
“Hey! Don’t go smashing it against that brutal thing. There’s no way it’d stand up to that!”
“Exactly. Right? I’ll go easy on it. I’m scared it’ll snap again.”
“Hrmm.”
Isaac sneers.
In the end, Antonio slings an arm around Isaac’s shoulder and leads him outside the smithy.
“Do you smoke?”
“…Not anymore.”
Back when Isaac was using a wooden sword to practice by swinging it, he had briefly used smoking to cope with the frustration.
It didn’t last long. He worried it might harm his stamina if he ever began wielding a sword seriously, so he quit before it beca a habit—though that concern turned out unnecessary.
“You quit? You’re a tough one.”
Antonio, cigarette in his mouth, holds the end of it against his still-warm hamr.
The lingering heat ignites the tip, scattering curls of smoke.
“Kid, quitting this is harder than you’d think.”
It was the first ti Antonio ever sounded sowhat vulnerable.
“I need to keep it light, but also maintain at least the minimum required hardness. I’ve never made a sword like that before.”
“I never expected you to get it right on the first try. But cut out the pointless bragging, please.”
“Think about how ridiculous I’d look in front of my apprentices if I handed you a sword and said it’s ‘just gonna snap soon.’”
“…”
An uncomfortable silence settles between them.
Still, it wasn’t as if they couldn’t understand each other’s positions.
“It’s my first ti making this type of sword, so naturally the craftsmanship might fall short. Then I should cover for those shortcomings so other way.”
“What are you suggesting?”
Antonio flicks his cigarette to the ground and crushes it underfoot. He shouts for an apprentice to bring him his thick coat.
“In the North, there’s a special ore known as frostsilver ore. It’s the sa precious stuff used to forge the Caldias family’s spears.”
“…”
“They don’t let it out of their hands. Except for what’s presented to the royal family, most of it is kept in Caldias’s warehouse.”
Isaac recalls how Silverna had ntioned her spear during battle. She’d said it was sothing she couldn’t ever afford to lose.
“If we use that, we can keep the blade light but also preserve its hardness. Of course, it’ll take so ti.”
“I get it’s a valuable material, but will the Margrave be willing to share it with ?”
From what Isaac knows, even Caldias probably doesn’t have much of it to spare.
“Probably not. But we need to get our hands on it one way or another, don’t we?”
Isaac nearly asked why Antonio was going to such lengths for his sword. In the end, he decided the question was unnecessary, but Antonio seed to notice anyway and answered.
“I saw you training.”
“…”
“You looked like you were already gripping a sword that wasn’t even finished yet.”
“Hrmm.”
“You’re up against Helmut, right?”
Isaac’s eyes widen for a mont. He slowly turns his head to look at Antonio, who grins like soone caught in the act of a prank.
“Isn’t it exciting? That legendary Helmut’s Sword, praised from birth as sothing magnificent. They’re literally born to swing a blade.”
“That’s right.”
“Whereas you—your longsword against their greatsword, their mighty physique against a re commoner.”
Isaac couldn’t deny that. Reality had always been harsh toward him.
“Still, seeing you genuinely trying to win—”
Antonio pats Isaac on the back, saying he liked the look of it. His gesture is almost a silent show of support, and Isaac gives a tiny nod in return.
****
Lately, Isaac had been devoting himself to sparring with Sharen.
Clang!
Sharen’s greatsword slams into Isaac’s Falchion with brute force.
Isaac can feel the overwhelming gap in strength.
And the main problem? Among Helmut’s direct lineage, Sharen is one of the weaker ones.
Other than the youngest, Edel, Sharen is basically the weakest in the family.
“Red River!”
A red-and-pink-tinged aura flares around Sharen’s greatsword.
Isaac’s eyes widen in alarm. He tries to block with Falchion, but—
He ends up knocked backward, sent briefly airborne, and then crashes to the ground.
“Ugh!”
Thanks to a quick recovery roll, he isn’t badly hurt, but Isaac winces nonetheless.
It’s not the pain.
It’s the cold reality that no matter what he does, he can’t quite break through that gap in power.
“Isaac, you okay!?”
Sharen rushes over in a panic, helping Isaac back to his feet with a worried expression.
“See, I told you let’s not use Red River! You won’t get any proper practice that way! I’m not so nobody like Jonathan!”
“Yeah, you’re definitely different.”
Very different indeed.
Against Jonathan, Isaac had managed to gain the upper hand by using his knowledge of Helmut swordsmanship to think one step ahead.
But now that a true direct descendant is wielding a blade, it’s a whole different story.
“I’m really just concerned for you. I even shout out my skill nas on purpose so you can prepare, you know?”
Sharen shrugs.
Sure, warning Isaac in advance does help him react.
‘Feels like she’s just enjoying calling out skill nas.’
Isaac can’t help suspecting that Sharen might be taking delight in announcing them.
“Even so, I have to keep going.”
Dusting off the dirt clinging to his backside, Isaac insists on starting again.
“…You’re not sparring with the other older brothers like this, right?”
“I wouldn’t exactly call what I did with them ‘sparring.’”
“Cough-cough!”
With an awkward cough, Sharen returns to her spot, and Isaac assus they’ll simply continue.
But suddenly—
“Ah-! Wait! Hang on a second! I have to go sowhere real quick!”
“Huh?”
With that, Sharen dashes off sowhere in a hurry.
***
“Unni!”
Behind the lodging house, at Sharen’s excited call, Rihanna warns her to quiet down.
She hands Sharen a towel and a water bottle.
The towel was warm, and a faint aroma from the water bottle suggests it was tea, freshly brewed.
“Wow, thanks! But I haven’t worked out enough to get all sweaty. It’s so cold here that I barely break a sweat.”
Sharen grins appreciatively, but Rihanna frowns and sets her straight.
“They’re for Isaac. Not for you.”
“….”
Sharen, about to open the water bottle for a sip, quietly seals it again.
“But I’m your little sister…”
“More importantly, I saw your sparring just now.”
“Oh! How was it? My Red River looked pretty—”
“I’m not sure what Isaac is really aiming for. The way he uses Falchion makes think—”
For about ten minutes, Rihanna shares her observations on the sparring session, all of it basically advice about Isaac’s swordsmanship. Sharen’s expression grows more and more annoyed as she listens.
“It’d be good if you summarize all that and pass it along, okay? Understood?”
“Why don’t you just tell him yourself, Unni?”
“I can’t do that, which is why I’m telling you.”
“….”
Sharen senses sothing is definitely off. Trying to shift the mood, she steers the conversation in a different direction.
“But you know, Unni, Isaac has a strange sort of…charm?”
“…What kind?”
Rihanna bites imdiately, intrigued, and Sharen beams as she explains what she feels.
“He’s kind of pitiful and desperate at the sa ti? I an, there’s no way he can ever beat Red River, right? But he keeps fighting ’til the end, and it’s strangely thrilling!”
“….”
“I don’t know how else to say it… It makes you want to take care of him sohow. Watching him try so hard to overco everything is just… kinda attractive!”
“….”
“Unni, maybe that’s why y—”
Bonk!
****
“Hey, what happened to your head?”
“Sniff… I don’t know!”
Isaac points at the bump on Sharen’s forehead, but she only grumbles in frustration.
She said she had to step out for a mont, and now she’s co back sporting that bump.
“Let’s pick up where we left off.”
Either way, Isaac had been racking his brain about how to counter Red River until Sharen returned.
Hopeful his new theory might work this ti, he moves to resu their sparring—
But Sharen suddenly cuts in.
“You pretend not to care, but you’re actually hung up on Helmut’s greatswords!”
“Huh?”
It was a random accusation from Sharen.
“You’re actually using Falchion, right? You don’t even have the strength to swing a Helmut greatsword, so why obsess over it?”
“….”
“Helmut’s greatsword is ant to overpower the opponent with raw force. Without that strength, there’s no Helmut at all.”
“….”
“Trying to cram Helmut into your own style is only making your swordwork sloppy.”
“….”
“Forget Helmut. Just swing your own sword. You’ve got enough talent to pull it off!”
Sharen recites all of this smoothly, as if reading from a script, prompting Isaac to frown in curiosity.
“What made you think that?”
“…Huh?”
“You said I’m trying to emulate Helmut. You must’ve noticed sothing that made you think so.”
Isaac is frankly surprised by Sharen’s insight, so he answers her candidly.
“Yeah, it’s true. I may hate Helmut, but that doesn’t an I hate their swordsmanship. Quite the opposite—my admiration for Helmut’s sword is probably what drove to push myself so hard.”
He wants to show them sothing, precisely because he admires their sword so much.
“I do look up to them. And I’m trying to make that my own sohow… I’m just curious how you noticed those hints.”
Isaac had been sure he kept his feelings hidden. How did Sharen figure it out?
He stares at her, and she starts to tremble. Trying to keep her head from turning away, Sharen blurts out,
“You… y-you can tell everything when you actually swing a sword! It’s not about your head, but your heart!”
Then she thrusts the warm towel and the water bottle at him.
“Don’t catch a cold!”
“Don’t catch a cold?”
“N-no! I an… be careful!”
“….”
Sharen turns on her heel, practically fleeing with her back to him.
Isaac glances in the direction she just ca from and sighs quietly.
“I had my suspicions, but still…”
He recalls Sharen’s first arrival at the Malidan Barrier.
He’d let it slide at the ti, thinking it couldn’t be.
But he still vividly rembers that maid with her face tightly wrapped.
– – – The End of The Chapter – – –
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