IBSECP 26

Chapter 26

“It’ll take four months to construct the drainage system, and another four months to install it.”

Leon was indeed a skilled blacksmith.

So it was unlikely he was wrong.

“Damn it.”

He knew more about crafting tools than I did.

My father had assumed from the start that Leon would eventually leave our smithy. So instead of teaching him sword-making, he taught him more practical skills like making candlesticks, farming tools, and pipes.

In contrast, I had only ever focused on becoming a swordsmith, so I had no clear understanding of how long it would take to build a drainage system.

Especially after my father’s death, I had devoted myself entirely to weapon-making.

My “Gram” had to be crafted in secret, so I never let another smith even touch it.

Naturally, I never realized how much manpower from other blacksmiths a drainage project required.

In most territories, stonemasons were more essential for such projects.

But this was Wilhelm.

Here, iron was more abundant than the hard granite typically used for drainage systems.

Wilhelm’s land had more limestone, which dissolved in water, rather than sturdy granite.

So I devised a drainage system using the abundant iron in Wilhelm…

“But the blacksmiths in the castle aren’t very cooperative, which is also delaying things.”

Leon said this with a blank expression, but his words pierced me.

Of course. I had shattered all their work right in front of them.

Still, eight months was too long.

At this rate, the enemy Valter would invade before the drainage even began to work.

“A project like this requires a lot of workers. You can call laborers for the installation, but blacksmiths are essential to build the system.”

“I’m a blacksmith now too, Johan!”

Just then, a small head popped up from behind Leon’s back.

It was Michael, who had been taken in as Leon’s assistant.

That boy was the seventh child of his parents, who had sold him to us for a few coins.

I could understand their desperation to feed the rest of their children, but—

‘They don’t seem like great parents.’

I looked down at Michael with that thought in mind.

When I frowned, he flinched and hid behind Leon again.

‘Why is he afraid of me?’

I looked like a doll, didn’t I?

“So pretty…”

When I heard the boy mutter that, I changed my mind.

‘Ah, he’s just shy.’

I spoke to the boy hiding behind Leon.

“You’re not a blacksmith. You’re a blacksmith’s assistant.”

“That’s the same thing! I’ll make gold soon. I’ll be rich and marry a pretty lady…”

“Blacksmiths aren’t alchemists.”

I said firmly.

Where did he even learn that nonsense?

“We’re no different from dwarves, covered in iron dust all day. We live in dark forges, depending on the glare of furnace fire.”

Michael’s shoulders slumped at my words.

I lowered my head, speaking more sternly this time.

“Scared? Think you can’t handle this life? Then quit now.”

“N-No! I don’t care if I shrink like a dwarf. I’ll be a blacksmith no matter what!”

As I leaned closer, Michael suddenly shouted and ran off, his face flushed red.

I tilted my head as I watched him go.

“Living as a pretty woman is hard.”

I said it like it was obvious, and Leon gave a dry laugh behind me.

When I turned, he quickly wiped the smile off his face.

Even though he was laughing.

Anyway.

Being a pretty woman was hard.

Honestly, I didn’t fit into the category of pretty or ugly.

Because I wasn’t a “woman.” I was a blacksmith.

That’s why the men around me had always treated me as just that—a blacksmith.

But ever since a strange man got tangled in my life—

[He didn’t seem to mean it as a refusal.]

My life had become infinitely more complicated.

Was it all because of Diana Isla’s doll-like appearance?

If I had truly been “Diana,” none of this would have happened.

If I had truly been Diana…

[That’s why that sword is the finest blade to me, Diana.]

You probably never would have said something like that to me.

Still, my heart ached bitterly for some reason.

Trying to shake off that night’s memory, I turned to Leon and said,

“Eight months is too long. In five months, the season will be right for barley planting. The drainage needs to be done by then.”

“Well… maybe. If the weather warms up, we might be able to shave some time off the installation phase.”

Leon pointed to the map in front of him.

“We might be able to finish at least one site as a trial within five months.”

He was pointing at an abandoned riverside plot outside the castle.

A plot unsuitable for farming because of the underground water. There were many such useless lands across Wilhelm.

I wanted to use those lands to feed our soldiers and prepare for war—but a year and a half felt like too little time.

But what could I do?

This was my land now.

No matter how good a weapon I forged, it was useless without someone to wield it.

Armin Wilhelm couldn’t fight Valter’s army alone.

We needed our people. Our soldiers.

Clicking my tongue, I looked at Leon.

He turned his head slightly, as if he’d been staring at my profile all along.

“Then let’s start with that plot.”

To survive the great famine approaching from the north, even small efforts mattered.

“And…”

I bit my lip.

“I’ll meet with the blacksmiths and try to persuade them myself.”

Soren was wiping his sweat in a corner of the training ground, resting.

He looked more tired than usual.

Pares spotted him and approached with a smirk, ready to tease.

“Soren, still hungover?”

“Shut up.”

Soren scowled irritably.

After the drinking contest with the Grand Duchess in Urd village, he had suffered a terrible hangover for several days.

How did that woman drink all that alone when even a seasoned drinker like him was down for days?

It made him wonder if she had a whole barrel of liquor stored in her tiny frame.

“What kind of woman is that tough? I’m telling you, His Grace made a mistake marrying her.”

Soren scratched his ear, grumbling.

[Drinking is all about momentum…]

The Grand Duchess’s whisper echoed in his mind.

Momentum, my ass.

“Keh… I don’t know. I think he married well.”

“What?”

Soren raised his eyebrows.

Back when the Duke got married, this guy hadn’t even tried to calm the upset knights. Now he’s changing sides?

“Sir Soren. Urd village lost half its men in the war. Many are struggling this year due to a lack of manpower.”

“Who doesn’t know that? That’s obvious…”

“But the food provided by the Lauta merchant guild was a huge help to them.”

Soren cleared his throat at that.

Well, he had heard something like that.

Apparently, the Grand Duchess’s bet made the merchant unload all their food in Urd village.

But maybe that was just coincidence.

Maybe it was just her stubborn pride acting up.

“You think it was coincidence?”

Pares seemed to read his thoughts.

“I don’t. I heard the Lauta guild failed a deal with Rochen and was about to throw away a ton of potatoes.”

“What?”

“So even if they won the bet, giving away the food made them look generous. A perfect excuse.”

“…!”

Soren’s eyes widened.

So the Grand Duchess didn’t care about winning. She just wanted to give the merchant an excuse to donate food to Urd?

To feed the villagers?

While Soren had been desperate just to beat her?

Driven by petty pride, not wanting to lose to some Isla noblewoman?

“Sir Pares! His Grace is calling for you!”

An apprentice interrupted his thoughts.

Pares immediately stood up.

Before leaving, he turned back and said,

“Ah. Her Grace asked for some unused swords to be taken to the training field. They’re in that box—take them over.”

“M-Me?”

Already feeling awkward about meeting the Grand Duchess, Soren stammered.

But Pares just shrugged.

“I have to go. His Grace is waiting.”

“Wait, no—!”

Before Soren could protest, Pares vanished.

Left alone, Soren sighed and picked up the box.

“Damn it.”

Musclehead Soren.

A brute who fought with strength, not skill.

He had worked hard to become a knight under Duke Wilhelm, escaping years of ridicule about his “muscle-brain.”

But now he wondered—

“Am I really just muscle, all the way to my head?”

He’d been annoyed that the Grand Duchess had wandered outside alone and put herself in danger—and that the Duke had to go rescue her.

But it turned out she’d been observing the villagers and trying to help them.

Using the Lauta guild strategically, with noble insight and generosity.

And he… what had he done?

“Stupid bastards.”

…Had the nerve…

“You think I used tricks? I don’t need tricks to snap a flimsy reed like your sword. Keep making trash like that, and you’ll die worthless.”

…had the nerve…

Soren arrived at the training field and saw the Grand Duchess standing before three burly blacksmiths with cold, contemptuous eyes.

Yes, she had noble insight.

But right now, all he saw in her eyes was disgust.

She was even holding a long sword.

The Grand Duchess looked over and called out to him.

“Bring me one of the swords over there.”

Without thinking, Soren picked one up and approached.

She looked at it and smirked.

“You made this one, didn’t you, Baldy?”

The bald blacksmith’s eyes widened.

“Pick up the sword you made.”

“What?”

“Don’t even know how to hold a sword? Some blacksmith.”

His eyes narrowed in anger.

Clearly, the Grand Duchess was picking a fight.

‘Should I stop her?’

Soren hesitated.

Then the massive bald man grabbed the sword from her hand.

And in the next instant—

Clang!

The Grand Duchess slammed her sword down, shattering the man’s blade with a single swift blow.

He stared at the broken piece in stunned silence.

“See? That’s the true quality of your reed-like sword, Baldy.”

She smiled coldly.

Soren was stunned.

That wasn’t a kind and gracious Grand Duchess—

“That’s it. Anyone who wants to make a real sword, stay. I don’t waste my time persuading cowards who can’t face fire.”

She was closer to a fierce master swordsmith.