Chapter 26 - When Sword Meets Sword (2)

I saw the old man's back.

CLANG.

The old man raised his hammer.

Then brought it down again.

CLANG.

There was no change in tempo, no variation in force.

There was not even a rise or fall.

The sound simply repeated, utterly constant.

My heart began beating slowly again.

A hazy feeling washed over my mind.

[*CLANG, CLANG, CLANG. *]

CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.

The first 「memory」 I remembered and reality overlapped perfectly.

HUM.

In that instant, some unknown sensation wrapped around me, then vanished just as quickly.

It happened before I could even grasp what it was.

"Ah..."

As I stood there blankly, trying to recall that sensation, the ceaseless hammering sound suddenly cut off.

An inexplicable sense of loss.

I looked at the old man.

I saw him stop hammering, place the lump of iron into the furnace, and take it out again.

The old man raised his hammer once more.

The heated iron was beaten mercilessly.

Scattering sparks, a writhing back.

Between them, a pale white hand suddenly slipped in.

SWISH.

Something cold touched my forehead.

At that unfamiliar sensation, my mind snapped awake.

"Ah..."

A sigh-like sound slipped out before I knew it.

Amid it, a delicate voice reached my ears.

The sound of blacksmiths striking iron.

The hissing of bellows, the roaring of flames,

"Your Highness. You are sweating far too much."

Among them, a graceful voice pierced my ears.

I turned my head.

Adelia stood there, tightly holding a handkerchief dampened with water.

Only then could I look around.

The blacksmiths, who had been busily working their hands, stopped one by one and bowed their heads toward me.

The apprentices, who had been ceaselessly pumping the bellows, flattened themselves on the floor or knelt.

A sturdy middle-aged man was walking around the workshop, forcibly stopping the blacksmiths' work like that.

When the man's eyes met mine, he immediately ran over and prostrated himself at my feet.

"These lowly ones offer greetings to Your Highness the Prince."

He was a man with a different air from the other blacksmiths.

There was none of an artisan's unique stubbornness in him, only a merchant's oily smoothness.

"Your Highness. His name is Sachsen, and he is the person in charge of the Blacksmiths' Guild."

"I see."

I gave him a brief glance, then turned my head.

Even while everyone had stopped working and was showing me respect, I saw the old man still as he was.

"What are you doing! Hurry up and stop working, and bow your hea—mmph!"

I clapped a hand over Sachsen's mouth as he made a racket.

"Mmph!"

With his mouth covered, his eyes darted around.

He looked as though he was desperately trying to figure out my intentions.

"Don't make noise."

I released his mouth.

I wiped my saliva-wet palm on his coat, then looked around.

The blacksmiths, half-prostrate and half-not, came into view as they looked this way.

The expressions of the blacksmiths who had been forced to stop working were full of dissatisfaction.

They were faces of men stewing inside, unable to bring themselves to step forward and protest.

"Why do something I never ordered?"

"Y-Your Highness?"

Sachsen's eyes went round.

I ignored him and spoke to the other blacksmiths.

"The iron is cooling."

At my words, the blacksmiths blinked.

"Unless you plan to let the fire in the furnace go out too, keep lying there."

The blacksmiths belatedly understood what I meant and sprang to their feet.

"What are you doing! Pump the bellows!"

"Why aren't you picking up your tools!"

The sound of blacksmiths shouting at apprentices.

The bellows hissed, and the hammering that had died down rang out again from every direction.

It did not contain that unknowable resonance like the old man's did, but the overflowing vitality within it made me satisfied.

* * *

After that, I watched the old man for a long while.

The old man did not stop working until the end, nor did he look at me.

Karl and the other Royal Knights looked as though they wanted to make the old man kneel at once, but since I stayed still, they could not step forward first and merely suffered in silence.

How much time passed like that?

Before I knew it, the sun was setting.

"Let's go."

Regrettable as it was, it seemed I had to return for today.

My heart wanted to continue staying by his side and listen to the old man's hammering, but watching the fully armed knights bake in the heat of the workshop was something I could not bear to do.

"Escort His Highness!"

Karl, his face lighting up, led me out of the workshop almost as though dragging me.

"Phew."

No sooner had we left the workshop than the Royal Knights drew in deep breaths.

They had not dared show it, but being inside there must have been quite painful for them.

"For some reason, half a year ago, he began repeating the process of making swords and melting them down. He is putting in all that effort now, but no doubt, as soon as the sword is finished, he will shove it straight into the fire."

On the way back, Torrance Ellen told me about the old man.

"Failures, then?"

I had thought he was repeating such foolish behavior because he disliked the results, but Torrance said that was not the case either.

"It was before that eccentricity of his appeared, but His Majesty the King himself said that every sword he made was nothing less than a masterpiece, and even bestowed upon him the title of 「Master Smith of Swords」. The swords he has melted into molten iron until now were also more than worthy of being called masterpieces made by a master smith."

"Then why melt perfectly good ones?"

Torrance sighed and said he did not know either.

Because the man possessed outstanding skill even within the guild, commissions had piled up, and since he was acting like this, the losses were considerable.

"Since about a month ago, he has been clinging to his work almost without sleeping. Since he is not a young man, I am very worried that we may have to carry out his corpse before he finishes the sword."

Torrance's voice was soaked with distress.

* * *

The next day, and the day after that, I went to see the old man again.

The old man was always the same.

The only thing that had changed was that the lump of iron he had been hammering now looked quite like a blade.

From around sunrise to sunset, I stayed in the workshop and admired the sound of the old man striking with his hammer.

I did not feel the same strange sensation as on the first day.

But even without something like that, there was something about the old man's hammering itself that drew me in.

Even after listening to it all day, I never grew tired of it.

Whenever I spent the whole day at the workshop like that and returned, Count Ellen was always waiting for me.

We would have dinner and hold dull conversations.

If the guild's workshop had not been there, I would have wanted to leave the County at once.

"You were interested in metallurgy as well?"

My maternal uncle, who had come late at night, asked.

It seemed he had heard from someone else that I was spending all day in the workshop.

"It's not that I have no interest, but more than that, being in the workshop simply puts my mind at ease."

My maternal uncle tilted his head, perhaps unable to understand my words.

But perhaps he had not truly been curious as to why I had been sitting around in the workshop all day, because he soon brought up something else.

"We have three days left. After that, we will leave for Iron Lion Castle, so if there is anywhere you want to visit, visit it, and if there is anything you want to do, do it in advance."

"I'll take care of that myself. What about you, Uncle? What kept you so busy that you didn't even show your face?"

"There was something His Majesty asked me to do separately. It should be finished in a day or two, so you need not concern yourself with it."

My maternal uncle's face looked somewhat tired as he said that.

Apparently, the King had not granted my excursion for free.

* * *

It was the day before we were to leave Ellen County.

As always, I headed to the guild's workshop.

"You have come, Your Highness."

When Sachsen saw me, he bowed and scraped in greeting.

I waved my hand roughly and passed him, heading toward the old man.

As always, the old man greeted me with his back.

CLANG. CLANG.

Listening to the regular sound of the hammer, I examined the old man.

Over the past few days, the old man had grown noticeably thinner.

Just as Torrance had said, that what worried him most was whether the old man might collapse, whether he melted the sword or not, the old man seemed to have reached the limit of his stamina.

It was astonishing that even after reaching this state, the sound of his hammering remained the same.

"I was hoping to see it completed before I left, if possible."

Though I had spoken loudly, deliberately intending for him to hear, the old man did not answer.

He merely corrected his posture, which had fallen slightly out of form, and threw himself even more fervently into hammering.

I left the workshop much earlier than usual.

Since today was my last day staying in Ellen County, I had things to do in my own way.

Of course, all that amounted to was attending the farewell banquet prepared by Count Ellen.

"Let's go."

I looked back several times out of regret before leaving the workshop.

* * *

"He is finally leaving."

Torrance Ellen let out a sigh of relief.

How anxiously had he worried when he heard that the First Prince, famous as a scoundrel, was coming?

He had been terribly worried that the prince might commit some outrage in the territory.

And sure enough.

The prince had caused trouble even before they met face-to-face by arriving a day later than the date he had notified them of.

While leading the cavalry and wandering the plains, Torrance had cursed the prince again and again.

Even so, when they met again, his relief had been greater.

After all, a member of the royal family suffering some mishap within the territory was something that absolutely had to be avoided.

"Your Highness.

The First Prince of rumor was a pig bloated with fat and a vile wretch with a nasty temperament.

But the First Prince he had met in person was nothing like the rumors.

He was not a fat pig as rumored, nor was he an incorrigible scoundrel as people said.

The prince was a handsome man with a well-trained physique, and aside from his somewhat rough speech and conduct, he showed no particularly jagged edges.

Of course, the fact that his first impression had been different did not mean Torrance relaxed immediately.

Where there is smoke, there is fire, and he did not know when the prince might reveal his true colors.

In fact, at the welcome banquet, the prince did not offer the greetings a guest ought to give the host.

Unless he was looking down on the other party considerably, there was no way he would devote himself only to eating in such a mocking manner.

Before he received any greater insult, his father gifted the prince a precious weapon.

It was to win his favor moderately and prevent him from feeling inclined to commit any outrage.

Whether that worked or not, the prince did not act rudely any further.

Thus the first day passed safely.

The next day, the prince said he wished to look around the Blacksmiths' Guild's workshop.

His father, who knew well the stubborn personalities of the blacksmiths, expected that nine times out of ten the prince would be offended and commit some outrage, so he adamantly refused to accompany him.

In the end, Torrance, as the eldest son, decided to step forward and suffer the hardship himself.

Just in case, he told the prince about the artisans' single-minded tendencies, but as expected, the prince did not listen in the slightest.

There was no chance this would pass quietly, Torrance thought, and resigned himself.

As expected, the blacksmiths did not easily put down the iron in their hands, afraid it would cool.

Only after Sachsen stepped forward and made a fuss did they barely and reluctantly show courtesy.

Fortunately, it seemed the matter would be settled well.

But nothing in the world ever goes exactly as one wishes.

Of all things, the old man mad about swords drew the prince's attention.

The old man, who would not even acknowledge his own lord when he came, finally caused trouble.

Yet the prince did not get angry.

Rather, he even stopped Sachsen from interrupting the master smith's work.

And that was not all.

"Unless you plan to let the fire in the furnace go out too, keep lying there."

Amazingly, the prince even understood the hearts of the blacksmiths who had been forced to stop and suggested that they resume their work.

Only then did Torrance think that perhaps the prince might not be the ill-bred breed the rumors claimed.

That thought became certainty as he watched the prince observe the blacksmiths' work for several days without interfering with their work or committing a single outrage.

The prince seemed to feel deep regret over leaving without seeing the master smith complete the sword.

It was such a strong emotion that even someone watching from the side felt sorry along with him.

Perhaps that was why.

When he learned that the master smith was on the verge of completing the sword, Torrance ran to the prince and informed him of the fact.

This time, too, no doubt it would be melted into molten iron, but he hoped the prince might see the sword made by the master smith, if only for a brief moment before that.

But that was a mistake.

When Torrance arrived with the prince, the master smith had attached even a handle, if only temporarily.

It did not yet have a crossguard, nor any decoration.

Even so, the sword was more beautiful than any sword the master smith had made until now.

"I offer this sword to Your Highness."

But the master smith promptly offered that sword to the prince.

The masterpiece he had created over a month without sleep, as though breathing his soul into it.

To a prince with whom he had not exchanged a single word.