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Chapter 27
【What the hell? Who’s picking a fight with our boss?】
【Huh? That’s one hell of a sword.】
【Doesn’t matter how strong it is. Let’s fight!】
【Shut up. Didn’t you see that sword just now slice through all the others like nothing?】
Every sword I picked up started murmuring.
Each one had a rough, gruff voice, just like you’d expect from blades forged in the brutal northern forges.
Thankfully, these particular ones had potential, so I decided to spare them.
【H-he’s sparing us!】
【Thank you!】
“These are at least usable. The rest? We’ll have to melt them all down and remake them from scratch. They’re hopeless.”
The rest of the swords didn’t even have “voices” to begin with.
At my words, Rune—the bald blacksmith who had been watching me—furrowed his brow.
“Um… excuse me…”
“What?”
“We’re the only ones left.”
He was right.
Aside from the blacksmiths of Rune’s forge, no one else had stayed behind.
Not that I hadn’t expected this.
“So,” I said with a smirk, looking up at Rune, “why did you stay?”
“W-well…!”
Rune pouted slightly as he looked down at the sword in his hands.
It was a blade made by Leon Kowalski.
Out of all the swords he’d brought, I recognized this one immediately.
[I’ll talk to the blacksmiths myself.]
[Can you manage that?]
[Of course. But I’ll need to borrow this sword.]
A single-edged blade.
A style my father had taught me long ago.
He said he’d learned it from foreign merchants who had brought swords perfect for cutting.
That’s what this blade was.
Long like a longsword, but with a single edge, it delivered more precise and powerful cuts than a longsword.
Of course, when such a blade cuts through the sloppy gladii made by foolish blacksmiths, they break easily.
Even with a weak body like mine.
Anyway.
I remember Leon’s face when my father first showed this type of sword.
That dumbstruck expression.
But I couldn’t laugh at him.
Because—
[You want to learn it?]
I probably had the same expression back then.
“I want to learn,” Rune said, clearing his throat.
I smiled, watching the look on Rune’s face as he stared at the blade.
His face twisted in frustration.
“W-why are you smiling?”
“Because everything’s going exactly as expected.”
Trying to convince guys who hammer metal and wrestle with fire for a living?
Pointless.
They don’t listen to others. They live off pride.
The only thing that matters to them is one thing:
The sword.
Blacksmiths can forge all kinds of things, but their essence goes into their blades.
If you show them a new kind of weapon, a sword that’s stronger and more refined—
There’s no way they won’t be tempted.
“You expected the others to leave too, then?” Rune asked.
“No. I just expected that a ‘real’ blacksmith would stay.”
I looked up at him, as if the answer was obvious.
“Don’t mind the ones who left. If they saw this sword and didn’t feel anything, they’re not real.”
Rune’s expression turned complex.
But eventually, he nodded with a resolute face and asked,
“Then… can I learn how to make this sword?”
“Hmm. That depends on our swordmaster.”
“The swordmaster… don’t tell me…”
Rune scratched his bald head.
“You mean that annoying guy who came to the castle a few days ago?”
Annoying?
When did he even see him?
I tilted my head, then looked again at the swords Rune had made.
【He’s annoying!】
【He’s scary with all those scars on his body!】
【But he’s still handsome, so our boss’s wife was squealing all day!】
…So that’s what happened.
I let go of the sword, listening to its whispers.
I didn’t need to hear more.
“Then forget it.”
“Huh?”
“That sword was learned directly by the swordmaster while wandering outside the castle. It’s a rare and advanced technique. Unless you’re willing to become a humble student, he won’t teach you.”
“…That’s…”
“Shame, isn’t it? You’ll never learn such a great technique, trapped here in your little well. You’ll die making those pathetic swords forever. Though honestly, even if you’d asked, who knows if he would’ve agreed to teach you.”
“…!”
Rune’s face flushed red and blue in frustration.
Wounded in his pride, he shouted,
“I-I’ll definitely become the swordmaster’s disciple! Just you wait!”
And with that, he stormed off toward Leon’s forge.
“Siiir! Swordmaasteeer!”
The blacksmiths following him ran after him like ducklings.
‘You’ll have a lot of students now, Leon Kowalski,’ I thought, then looked to the side.
A man with a strange expression was sitting nearby.
“Um… did you lure me in the same way?”
It was Soren.
You didn’t leave?
I gave him a puzzled look, and Soren quickly waved his hands.
“N-no! That’s not it! I just… I just wanted to say… that…”
“…?”
“I was disrespectful that day. Please forgive me.”
“Disrespectful?”
He hesitated.
“Th-the tavern…”
“Oh. That wasn’t disrespectful. You just had more confidence than your alcohol tolerance allowed.”
“Eh?”
“Still, if you think you owe me, I do need a favor.”
“Huh…?”
I patted his shoulder as he looked flustered.
“Don’t go around bragging about how well you drink. And work on your stamina.”
A groan escaped between his teeth at my advice.
That night.
“Why did you want to come here all of a sudden?” Hanna asked, placing her candlestick down in the dark hallway.
“I didn’t even know this place existed…”
Beside us, Soren muttered quietly.
Indeed.
I was planning to take advantage of those who owed me favors.
Hanna, for example, had already mostly repaid her debt by exposing Lochen’s spy.
Still, I couldn’t wander around at night without an attendant.
“This is the western storage of the Grand Duke Wilhelm’s estate. It holds the family’s historical treasures. I didn’t know you were aware of it.”
The western storage.
Even in Diana Isla’s memories, it was only mentioned in passing.
The treasury of the Wilhelm estate.
Even the butler only gave it a vague explanation, saying it belonged to the lady of the house when handing me the key.
Wilhelm’s vast territory was, in truth, practically barren.
Six years ago, the former emperor gave the land and title of Grand Duke to Amin—one of the imperial princes—not to reward him, but to shackle him.
Amin Kainen.
A prince of the Kainen Empire.
The reality of the land granted to him was a wasteland.
Bordering three countries and countless tribes, it was a dumping ground for refugees driven out during times of conflict.
No dreams of farming, trade, or protection from a lord.
Just a lawless place for the desperate.
But the first patriarch, Fredrik Wilhelm, was different.
He gave those people a name—Wilhelm’s people—and built this castle.
He was a strong leader who, during his reign, reduced monster waves and solved border disputes with ease.
Or so the legend goes—over a thousand years ago.
Still, after his death, Wilhelm’s golden age crumbled.
The Milene Kingdom invaded.
The land became their vassal, and when their appointed lords died one after another, it was abandoned once again, then seized by other tribes, and so on…
‘Ugh. My head hurts.’
Whether from Diana Isla’s memories or my own research, the history of this land boiled down to:
“A land of unending war, invasion, famine, and poverty.”
Yet somehow, the people still live here under the name Wilhelm.
Now I understood why Amin warned me to be careful—because the previous lords all died violently.
Still, they didn’t leave nothing behind.
“All the treasures passed down from the first patriarch are kept here. But what’s left…”
Hanna trailed off as she opened the western storage’s door.
It creaked open, revealing a dimly moonlit, prison-like storage room.
Soren wrinkled his brow.
“What is this? Just a bunch of old swords…”
Swords lined the walls and filled the boxes below.
It looked like a graveyard of blades.
“It’s become a place to store the family’s swords. Everything else…”
“Was probably looted by the patriarch’s assassin.”
I smiled as I said it.
Soren swallowed hard and asked,
“Then… why did you bring me here?”
“What do you mean? This is the Wilhelm family’s treasury. I needed someone to make sure I wasn’t stealing anything.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re the one in the knights who’s most suspicious of me.”
Soren’s face twisted.
“Th-that’s…”
I’m not a knight.
I’m a blacksmith.
And a blacksmith—especially one who craves powerful swords—doesn’t care about pride or loyalty.
Soren’s apology was just empty words.
But swords are different.
Especially great and powerful swords.
In this vast graveyard of blades, I felt as though the swords were whispering to me, each with its own story.
They would tell me everything—
About the past and the future of the Wilhelm estate.
