Chapter 61 - < Do That Later >

The next morning, Kyle finished breakfast with his family and immediately left Rose Manor for Varkas’s residence.

“What brings you here so early?”

Bruno was the one who opened the front door. Kyle addressed him without preamble, despite his being drenched in sweat.

“Join the Wolf Knights.”

“What? Me?... Why?”

“Don’t want to? Never mind, then.”

Kyle turned away without hesitation. Startled, Bruno grabbed his shoulder.

“Hey! Why are you ignoring my question? I asked you why!”

“What do you mean, why? I used to help you with your swordsmanship.”

“That wasn’t even that long...”

Bruno muttered in disbelief. Kyle had only coached him for the year before entering the Floor of Asceticism.

“It was only a year, but that year made you who you are now. Am I wrong?”

“Well...”

Bruno muttered, his brows furrowing. That was an undeniable fact. If he hadn’t listened to Kyle’s advice back then... He glanced over his shoulder. Varkas was nowhere in sight, but his father would be hearing this conversation.

“Still worried about what Uncle thinks?”

“It’s not that...”

Bruno bristled briefly at the grinning taunt, then let out a deep sigh.

“I’m mindful of him for different reasons now. I am his son, after all.”

“Didn’t you say you didn’t want to join the Red Snow Knights?”

“Don’t put it so bluntly.”

“If you need time to think, you can have it. One day. Think it over and decide whether you want to join. You can talk to Uncle, too.”

“What do I gain from joining your order?”

“You’ll get to spar with me often. Isn’t that benefit enough?”

The reply brimmed with confidence. Bruno scowled, but he couldn’t deny that it would be a benefit. Kyle’s swordsmanship in yesterday’s bout against Cartan was still seared into his mind.

“I don’t need time to think. I’ll... join your order.”

Bruno answered firmly. Much of the indecisiveness so at odds with his imposing build had vanished.

“Are you sure you don’t need to discuss it with Uncle?”

“I’m not a child anymore, and Father knows that. He also understands... that I don’t want to join the Red Snow Knights.”

Bruno glanced back as he spoke. Varkas was still nowhere to be seen, but Bruno could feel his father’s intense gaze and presence. They bound his whole body and bore down on him, but even as he trembled, he did not retract his decision.

“Do you have anyone else in mind?”

“Yes. I’m going to ask them now.”

“Wait a moment. I’ll get changed and come out.”

“Sure.”

The door closed, then opened again a few minutes later.

“Hello, Uncle. Good morning.”

It was Varkas who emerged. His massive body was damp with sweat, as though he, too, had been practicing with his sword all morning. Kyle smiled at the sight.

“Were you training with Bruno?”

“Why my son?”

Varkas asked the question. Even under a piercing gaze that seemed to bore straight through him, Kyle’s smile never wavered. Varkas’s brow furrowed more deeply. Rather than resisting that oppressive presence with brute strength, Kyle was letting it flow past him.

That bearing differed from the ‘sword’ he had used against Cartan yesterday. If anything... it resembled Cartan’s swordsmanship. It was only a manner of carrying himself, yet Varkas sensed a ‘sword’ in Kyle.

‘What an uncanny boy...’

He had been unlike anyone his age when Varkas last saw him. Now that he was older, he felt even less his age—as if his young, immature body had merely been a shackle holding him back.

“He’s my cousin. And my friend.”

“Is that all? At your level, my son is not someone you need as a friend. He won’t be much help to you.”

“I don’t agree. Bruno may be weak now, but that doesn’t mean he’ll stay weak. Besides, does a friend have to be useful?”

“You seem to have high expectations for my son.”

“He’s still young. Depending on his efforts, he may one day develop swordsmanship that gives me some fun.”

“Aren’t you five years younger than Bruno?”

“Swordsmanship doesn’t necessarily follow age.”

Varkas snorted at the reply.

“I am quite grateful to you. You corrected the weakness in my son that I could not.”

“I simply didn’t try to force him to change. I made him reconsider what he was good at and coaxed him into building on his strengths.”

“Are you saying my methods were wrong?”

“That isn’t for me to judge.”

“Then who?”

“Who indeed?”

Kyle smiled faintly and looked Varkas straight in the eye. Kyle was smiling, but Varkas was not. After glaring at him for a moment, Varkas placed a large hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll be honest. You make me uncomfortable, and you irritate me.”

“Thank you for your honesty.”

“I dislike you. But I don’t despise you. Your swordsmanship is too strong not to acknowledge.”

Varkas lowered his head to glare at Kyle from close range.

“But if you toy with my son or ruin him beyond use... then I will despise you.”

“I don’t despise you either, Uncle. In the end, you acknowledged that Bruno’s change was for the best.”

“Uncanny brat.”

Varkas practically growled the words, then stepped back, spun around, and opened the door. Beyond it stood Bruno, freshly changed and rigid with tension.

“Move.”

Bruno flinched and stepped aside. Varkas strode past him, saying,

“You’re still fainthearted. Don’t just learn swordsmanship under him. Learn some nerve, too.”

“Y... yes!”

His stammering voice gained strength.

“I won’t disappoint you, Father...!”

“You had better make sure you don’t disappoint him, either.”

With that, Varkas went inside. Kyle smirked at the still-frozen Bruno.

“Piggy. I thought you’d grown up over the past four years, but you’re still a kid in front of Uncle.”

“You...”

Bruno turned toward Kyle, trembling. He had only just wiped off his sweat and changed, yet his bangs were already damp with cold sweat.

“Aren’t you... scared? Father’s presence just now...”

“If you freeze like that every time you face a powerful enemy, you’ll die on the spot in a real fight.”

“...”

“Come on, Piggy.”

Kyle tapped Fenris at his waist and turned away. Bruno hesitated, then followed him, grinding his teeth.

“So who are you recruiting?”

“Lucia.”

Kyle answered as though it were obvious, and Bruno looked unsurprised.

“Lucia... would never turn you down.”

He was right. As soon as they reached the lodgings in Hilt, the lower district, they called Lucia out and explained the situation. She nodded without a moment’s hesitation.

“Understood.”

“Are you sure you can answer so quickly? Other orders have their eye on you, too.”

Kyle grinned, testing her.

“The Wolf Knights are brand-new. We haven’t accomplished anything yet, so we won’t receive much support.”

“You will soon distinguish yourself and secure plenty of support, Lord Kyle.”

Lucia looked at him with unwavering faith.

“Do you not want me?”

“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have come to recruit you.”

“Then why do you question me as though you’re testing me?”

“I’m worried you’ll resent me later if I can’t do much for you.”

“You have already given me a sword far beyond what I deserve.”

Lucia stroked Blood Fang at her waist as she answered.

“Will it be just the three of us?”

“We are an ‘order,’ after all. Three is too few. Ideally, I’d like to recruit two more.”

“Do you have any particular candidates in mind?”

“Hmm.”

Kyle rubbed his chin, considering.

He had reviewed the documents Cartan had given him last night. Three hundred young warriors were attending the exchange gathering, but the list contained only fifteen names—those deemed promising enough to warrant attention.

“The fellow I fought yesterday. Jade, was it? His swordsmanship looked quite good.”

“You thought so even though he couldn’t withstand a single stroke from you?”

“He just had a bad opponent. And yesterday, I got a little... worked up and swung harder than I should have.”

Jade’s name had been in the documents, too.

“His swordsmanship is unusual. Compared with yours and Bruno’s, it’s extremely practical. Unlike you two, who learned inside Gladiheim, his swordsmanship was forged in real combat.”

“Bruno and I have also seen plenty of real combat as apprentice knights.”

“But real combat wasn’t your starting point. His swordsmanship has an entirely different character. You’ll have a lot to learn by keeping him close and watching him.”

Kyle did not intend to choose people purely for their strength and excellence. Lucia and Bruno, whom he had already recruited, were swords he had been painstakingly sharpening since childhood. To hone them further, he needed other swords beside them—ones that would spur them on and offer something to learn.

The heat of ambition and rivalry could bring a person to a boil. Kyle knew that well from his previous life. Even Lucia, who looked so composed now, possessed that heat. She had lost to Kyle many times, but she had never once taken defeat for granted.

“Lucia, you learned swordsmanship from the elders, and Bruno, you learned from Uncle. You may have seen real combat as knight cadets and apprentice knights, but your swordsmanship is still orthodox. Besides, the missions you experienced would have been ones with a high chance of success, wouldn’t they?”

“That... is true.”

“Orthodox swordsmanship isn’t bad, but a sword needs more freedom. Sometimes you need to be unorthodox and fight dirty. Just because you’re knights doesn’t mean your opponents will always be honorable knights, too.”

Kyle wore a mischievous smile.

“Besides, I don’t believe there’s such a thing as a fair fight. You’re holding swords and trying to kill each other. Winning is all that matters. Am I wrong?”

Those words reeked far too strongly of blood to come from an Alastor young master who had spent most of his life in the Sword Tower, but neither Bruno nor Lucia could point that out. They already knew all too well that Kyle’s nature did not fit his upbringing.

“Let’s go see Jade first. I’ll ask him, and if he refuses, I’ll just force him to join.”

“He should be at the smithy.”

Gladiheim was divided into four districts.

Hilt, the lower district, housed the Black Iron Knights, knight cadets, and apprentice knights.

Crossguard, the middle district, was packed with production facilities such as smithies.

Blade, the upper district, housed the other knightly orders and House Alastor’s branch families.

Finally, at the very top stood the Sword Garden and the Sword Tower. Remembering what he had told Jade yesterday, Kyle nodded.

“Perfect timing. I need to have a scabbard made for Fenris, too. While we’re there, we can commission the order’s uniforms.”

Kyle started toward Crossguard, then stopped briefly.

“Oh, right. Our order’s emblem is a snake. No objections?”

“It’s called the Wolf Knights, but its emblem is a snake? Why on earth?”

Bruno looked baffled, but Kyle answered calmly.

“Because I say so.”

“...”

“I’m the commander, and that’s what I want. Any complaints?”

“None.”

Unlike Bruno, whose lips twitched, Lucia answered with an utterly unruffled expression.

* * *

Crossguard’s workshops were staffed by artisans whose families had sworn loyalty to House Alastor for generations. They made and repaired weapons and armor for its knights and soldiers. Among them, the First Workshop housed master artisans who accepted commissions only from purebloods.

“Look, your young master definitely said it! He told me to give his name and ask you to make me a sword!”

“Go to the Second Workshop.”

The enormous blacksmith looked annoyed.

“We only accept commissions from purebloods. Whatever Young Master Kyle told you, you aren’t a pureblood. The Second Workshop’s artisans are excellent, too. Order your sword there.”

“Are they better than you?”

“No.”

“Then you make it.”

Jade was refusing to let the blacksmith go, arguing with him. His trusty sword had broken, and now he could commission one from Gladiheim’s famously skilled artisans. Naturally, he wanted the very best craftsmen here to make it.

“Don’t make me repeat myself. Unless you’re a pureblood, we will never...”

“Then may I commission it myself?”

The voice brought the argument to an abrupt halt. Jade whipped his head toward it. Kyle was entering the workshop with a grin, the murderous air of yesterday completely gone.

“We greet the pureblood.”

The moment Kyle entered, every artisan stopped working and bowed. Having served House Alastor for generations, they were fiercely loyal to its purebloods.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Kyle Alastor.”

After introducing himself to the artisans, Kyle approached the blacksmith who had been arguing with Jade.

“This is my first time using the workshops, so I didn’t know the rules. Please forgive my discourtesy.”

“Discourtesy...? Young Master, please don’t lower your head.”

The blacksmith looked flustered.

“Young Master, even purebloods cannot use the First Workshop freely. Commissions here require sufficient merit points. Of course, the head of the house has ordered us to fulfill one commission of your choosing, but...”

The blacksmith glanced at Jade.

“To use your sole commission on a sword for an outsider would be rather...”

“Hmm, is that so? I made a promise yesterday, so his sword must be made. Then let’s do this. I’ll use my one commission on his sword.”

“Young Master, are you serious?”

“Yes. I promised to have a sword made for him.”

Looking disappointed, Kyle stroked Fenris’s blade.

“I was hoping to have a scabbard made for this sword, but it can’t be helped. You said the Second Workshop’s artisans were excellent, so I suppose I’ll have to ask them to make Fenris’s scabbard.”

“P... pardon?”

The blacksmith’s eyes widened. The other artisans watching them exclaimed in surprise, and the blacksmiths among them rushed over to Kyle.

“F... Fenris...!”

“The Sword Demon’s sword...”

None of the blacksmiths had seen Fenris in person before, but naturally, they knew what it was. The Sword Demon’s sword from five hundred years ago. The sword the founder, Ruin Alastor, had kept beside him until the very end. The sword displayed for five hundred years in the Sword Tower’s Hall of Sword Pinnacles.

“Don’t tell me... the sword that flew to you yesterday... was Fenris?”

The blacksmith in front of Kyle asked, his shoulders trembling. He had heard rumors of a sword flying to the young master who had suddenly dropped into the training ground yesterday, but he had never imagined it was Fenris. Kyle nodded, looking as though he had expected this reaction.

“Yes. This is Fenris.”

“You... wanted to commission a scabbard for this sword?”

“Yes. But you said I only have one commission, so I’ll use it for Jade’s sword... and ask the Second Workshop to make Fenris’s scabbard.”

“No... no, there’s no need! You mustn’t!”

The blacksmith shouted, his eyes rolling wildly.

“I’ll make Fenris’s scabbard myself!”

“But the merit points...”

“No merit points are needed! I’m making it because I want to! I’ll make his sword, too. And Fenris’s scabbard...”

“Hey, Roke! Who said you could decide to make the scabbard?!”

“Young Master Kyle! Let me make Fenris’s scabbard! I’m the most skilled craftsman in the First Workshop!”

“Yike! You’re the most skilled? Bullshit!”

“Young Master! I am the finest master artisan in the First Workshop!”

The blacksmiths crowded around Kyle, shouting over one another that they were the best artisan here and would make Fenris’s scabbard.

In the middle of what had become a veritable marketplace, Kyle stroked Fenris.

‘Hey, you’re popular.’

At that, black mist began creeping from Fenris, and the wolf appeared.

WOOF!

With a cry that might have come from a wolf or a dog, Fenris wagged its tail and held its head high. It looked rather smug.

‘I don’t mind who makes it. What about you?’

Since Fenris would be the one going into the scabbard, Kyle thought he might as well ask it directly. Fenris sniffed as it wandered among the blacksmiths. Even now, they were proclaiming their own excellence at the tops of their lungs, veins bulging in their necks.

‘This isn’t a realm of consciousness.’

Apparently, Fenris could manifest its wolf form like this without full resonance.

WOOF!

After sniffing its way among the blacksmiths for a while, Fenris stopped and barked loudly. Pale mist rose around the hammer belonging to the blacksmith beside it.

CLANG, CLANG! CLANG-CLANG!

Clear metallic notes rang from within the mist shrouding the hammer, and a tiny dwarf poked its head out of it.

“What’s this? Can you see me?!”

The dwarf braced both hands against the hammer and pulled itself upright. It was another goblin.

‘Now this is handy.’

Kyle’s eyes sparkled. So far, he had met three goblins.

The first was Fenris. The second was Baal. The third was the Fragment.

He had met all three in realms of consciousness that others could not interfere with, but this was different. His surroundings remained unchanged, and he could hear everyone’s voices clearly. Only Kyle could see the goblin.

‘I think I understand. That goblin isn’t interested in me. That’s why it hasn’t resonated with me and opened a realm of consciousness.’

Kyle’s innate ability allowed powerful communion with spirits and goblins. But it took effect when he focused intently on them, or when a goblin noticed his ability and approached him first.

This goblin, however, had little interest in Kyle, since the hammer it inhabited already belonged to the blacksmith. Fenris’s approach had drawn its attention this way.

“Hey, fellow. You want something made, right? This guy’s workmanship is incredible! Trust me and give him the job!”

The dwarf shouted, pounding the hammer with both hands. Kyle looked away from it for a moment and surveyed his surroundings. Blacksmiths eager to make Fenris’s scabbard crowded around him. As artisans of the First Workshop, they would all be highly skilled.

Choosing one of them ultimately came down to personal preference. Kyle knew little of their names or abilities, but Fenris had chosen an artisan itself. What was more, that artisan’s hammer housed a goblin.

Goblins inhabited objects that had been handled with affection over many years. Kyle did not know whether this blacksmith had brought the goblin into being, but a goblin that had watched the workshop for years had vouched for his skill.

“Excuse me.”

Even while the other blacksmiths clamored around him, the man kept his head stubbornly lowered, as though desperate to avoid eye contact. His hunched back, shaggy bangs covering his eyes, and tightly drawn shoulders all spoke of a complete lack of confidence.

“Y... yes?”

At Kyle’s call, he looked up with a start.

“D-did you mean me?”

The surrounding blacksmiths clicked their tongues at his shrinking voice.

“Hey, Galen! That’s a pureblood young master. Answer him properly!”

“Good grief, that frustrating fool.”

Under their scolding, the man called Galen shrank further into himself and backed away.

“I-I’m sorry. Young Master, I’m nobody special. There are many excellent senior craftsmen here besides me. Please give the commission to one of them...”

At that painfully timid response, the dwarf perched on the hammer pounded its chest in frustration.

“You idiot of a master! What makes you any worse than those fellows?”

The goblin shrieked, but Galen did not seem to hear it.

“If you really were nobody special, you wouldn’t be in the First Workshop. Would you?”

“Th... that...”

Galen faltered, unable to answer properly. Kyle chuckled and held out Fenris.

“First, take a look at the sword and decide. As you’ve heard, I need a scabbard for it.”

Galen’s eyes quivered beneath his shaggy bangs. As a blacksmith, he could hardly fail to want to make the famous Fenris’s scabbard with his own hands. But he was timid by nature, and raising his hand to shout his own merits over everyone else in this uproar was no easy feat.

So he had kept his head down, forcing himself not to take an interest. Yet the pureblood young master who had lately become Gladiheim’s most famous figure had approached and singled him out. With trembling hands, Galen accepted Fenris.

“Oh... ohhh...”

Galen gasped, his voice shaking. Despite the passage of five hundred years, Fenris’s edge was sharp, its surface smooth and utterly free of roughness.

“What a fearsome sword...”

Galen murmured as though entranced. His fingers carefully traced the blade.

“Blood, resentment, and will... It feels as though the sword itself is alive and breathing... An ordinary scabbard would rot away in days.”

The look in Galen’s eyes transformed. His cowed timidity vanished, replaced by the feverish gleam of an artisan analyzing the magnificent sword before him.

“What do you think?”

Galen, who had been examining Fenris and muttering incomprehensibly, startled and turned toward Kyle.

“D... do you truly mean to let someone like me make its scabbard?”

“You’re welcome to refuse if you don’t want to.”

There was no shortage of artisans eager to make the scabbard. If Galen truly refused, Kyle could simply commission someone else.

“...”

As expected, Galen could not bring himself to refuse. He kept glancing longingly at Fenris. The artisans gathered around him clicked their tongues and shook their heads.

“Well, that’s that. We’ve lost.”

“Galen, you fool, if you want to make it, just say so! Stop getting our hopes up for nothing.”

“I-I’ll make it.”

Under the other artisans’ scolding, Galen finally admitted what he wanted. Kyle grinned and draped an arm over Jade’s shoulders.

“The scabbard aside, you’ll need to make his sword, too. Is that all right?”

“If I can make the... scabbard, then yes, I don’t mind.”

At the trembling reply, Jade’s brows drew sharply together. He was not particularly pleased to have his commission reduced to an afterthought, but this was no ordinary sword—it was the famous Fenris. Clicking his tongue, he spoke.

“I understand you’re making my sword on the side, but make it properly.”

“I have never once been careless in making a weapon.”

Perhaps he lacked confidence but not pride. Galen’s voice no longer trembled.

“I’ll make your sword first. What kind do you want?”

“A swordbreaker.”

Jade unfolded the paper in his hand and showed it to Galen. On it was a drawing of a sword that appeared to be his own work. His drawing skills were surprisingly good.

“One edge should be serrated. I’ve written down the blade and grip lengths, so just make it to those specifications.”

“I can make it as requested... but are you sure you won’t regret it?”

Galen asked hesitantly.

“It would serve its purpose... but I can see many structural improvements to make. The balance is off, too...”

Taking a pencil stub from his clothes, Galen began revising Jade’s drawing on the spot.

“Trim this part, and make the teeth double-edged. Deepen the grooves between them a little to let the blood drain better... The grip should be a little longer, too.”

Galen kept muttering as he revised the design. By then, Jade was staring openmouthed, unable to follow everything he said. Still, even without understanding it all, he could tell that Galen was pointing out the very things that had bothered him when using his sword.

“What’s the best metal this workshop uses? Something suited to that sword.”

At Kyle’s abrupt question, Galen looked up with a start.

“For this design... an Asril alloy would be ideal. B-but, Young Master, this isn’t a sword you’ll be using yourself...?”

“I’m commissioning it personally, so please make it as though it were for my own use.”

Jade’s jaw dropped at the mention of Asril alloy. It was such an expensive metal that he had never even seen it before.

“Look, Young Master. I appreciate you saying that, but honestly, it feels like a bit much.”

“If you feel indebted, come serve under me.”

Jade blinked at the casual reply.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Why did you come here?”

“Me...? To have a sword made.”

“Not the workshop. Why did you come to Gladiheim? Did you want to serve House Alastor? Or did you want to swing your sword around and make a name for yourself?”

Jade blinked several more times at the sudden interview. Then, reading Kyle’s gaze, he composed himself.

“You want an honest answer?”

“Yes.”

“I came because I wanted to see how good Gladiheim’s knights really were. Especially those oh-so-great Alastor purebloods. I wanted to fight them.”

“You got your wish.”

“I did. That’s why I rushed out in front of you, Young Master.”

“Was it what you expected?”

“Honestly, it exceeded my expectations. Made me feel pretty pathetic.”

“What were you planning to do next?”

“What else? Get my new sword... and leave. I thought I was fairly good, but now I know how pitiful my skills are. I was going to get back to fighting, like before I came here, and improve. Remember what you said yesterday? You said you’d fight me again if I asked later.”

“Serve under me, and you can spar with me whenever you want. I can even be kind enough not to break your new sword.”

“Heh.”

Jade’s lips twitched into a smile.

“You make an offer I can’t refuse. What did you see in me that made you want me under you, Young Master?”

“The nerve to swing your sword at me without getting scared. Your hunger for swordsmanship.”

“...”

“And I like that you’re still talking to me without cowering.”

“What if I say no?”

“Why say something you don’t mean? If you say no? Fine. I can be petty, too. Galen, please use cheap steel instead of Asril alloy.”

“No, no! That’s not what I meant. I was just curious.”

Startled, Jade seized Kyle’s hand.

“I’ll serve under you, Young Master. Do I need to swear loyalty, too?”

“Do that later.”

Shaking Jade’s hand up and down, Kyle addressed Galen.

“Asril alloy, please, not cheap steel. How long will it take?”

“The swordbreaker will take a week, but the scabbard... I won’t know until I start working on it.”

“Then I’ll return with Fenris in a week.”

Kyle tucked Fenris at his waist and grinned at Galen.

“I suspect we’ll be seeing each other often. I’ll be counting on you each time.”

“Th-thank you for choosing me...!”

Looking utterly overwhelmed, Galen bowed deeply. The dwarf on the hammer in his hand beamed and waved at Kyle.