CHAPTER 164

The red hue staining the man was deep.

Even within the swaying wine glass, the stickiness did not easily move.

Yet, Sarnus seemed to appreciate the weighty gulp, as he smiled as if satisfied.

"In the end, Duke Armand moved as intended."

Sarnus, leisurely tilting his glass even before the rising morning sun, appeared relaxed.

His neatly combed golden hair and dignified attire, unaffected by trends, unmistakably portrayed the typical image of nobility.

"There are sporadic territorial conflicts happening throughout the central regions. It seems it's not only because of Duke Armand, but everyone has accumulated a lot."

"We've kept them tied down for too long. Humans are inherently beings driven by desire."

Sarnus merely nodded as if he had anticipated Mirshea's report.

One may have thought that the knight who founded the great world of the empire would always be singular, but the existence of the dragon was actually sleeping in everyone's soul.

"As one tramples, it rises, and as one devours, it grows. Who could refuse?"

As peaceful as it was, they must have been accumulating strength and legitimacy.

Pouring water into a small glass would eventually cause it to overflow.

Expanding into a wider world was not just the goal of the westerners alone.

"Anyone would do the same as me."

Sarnus poured out the last of the wine and quietly set the glass down on the desk.

When he turned to look in the mirror, he saw only the image of the nobleman Sarnus Dragulia.

It seemed like his old self, shriveled up in the dark, could no longer be found in him now.

"This one isn't entirely pure."

Amongst the bright golden locks, a single streak of red could be seen.

Sarnus, who discovered it, smiled with a frown and started combing his hair.

As unpleasant as it was, it was a problem until the end.

"He may return in a ridiculous manner, but still, Baron Utman has performed his duties well. He deserves praise."

"······Is that so."

Casually plucked hair strands.

Among the golden locks rested a red hair that evoked someone's memory.

"I hope the child in the north is a bit more ripe. It's about time to harvest that one too."

Once sown, it was time to reap.

What possibilities will my seed, which I went all the way to the North and planted in the mud, show?

Empty wine glass and plucked red gray hairs.

The old dragon was smiling as he waited for them to be refilled.

※※※※

"Hmm, hmm."

Sigurdsson was focused, but Vlad seemed inexplicably anxious standing by his side.

It was because Sigurdsson, wearing strange and unfamiliar goggles, was inspecting his sword as if licking it.

Watching the blue sword being meticulously revealed by someone else, Vlad felt an urge to snatch it away right then and there.

"······Seems to be correct."

The morning after the frenzy-filled night, the dwarves abandoned their beloved drinking mugs and gathered around Sigurdsson.

The sight of burly bearded men huddling closely together was quite comical, but their gazes were as serious and thoughtful as their expressions.

"······The spark is right."

The dwarves all clenched their hands as they heard Sigurdsson's quiet declaration.

Various exclamations erupted among them, but perhaps the only reason for their silence was the young lizard playfully swaying its tail atop the sword.

No one should startle this young spirit.

"Where did you get this one?"

"I mentioned it earlier. It's Ausrina."

In response to Sigurdsson's inquiry, Vlad handed over his sword as if it were taken from him.

Sigurdsson's eyes, oddly enlarged behind his goggles, watched the young lizard between the blades with a sense of pity.

"But how could there be a spirit so young? In the first place, spirits were supposed to have been devoured by the most perfect dragons······."

"I'm not sure what you mean, but why don't you ask the elves for more details?"

Vlad, increasingly agitated, pushed away the approaching men as if possessed.

The prickly sensation of their beards against him was aggravating Vlad's temper.

"Because the elves are the ones who made this. Lay off, you lot!"

As Vlad reprimanded, the dwarves clicked their tongues and began to retreat.

Yet even as they returned to their places, a lingering sense of reluctance seemed to hang in the air.

'······Are these dwarves seeing spirits for the first time?'

The elven elder Geronimo informed him that the Swordmaster had gone to the dwarves.

However, the dwarves were now very pleased with the sight of the young spirit, so it seemed that no trace of the sword master had reached them.

Their way of checking spirits through parchment records was clearly quite different from that of the elves.

"······As I mentioned yesterday, I'd like to take a look at your armor."

It was an abrupt mention of armor, but anyone present could guess Sigurdsson's intentions.

Sigurdsson's eyes, involuntarily magnified by his goggles, still seemed regretful as they glanced at Vlad's sword.

"Anyway, I also want to make some adjustments to the equipment we have on our ship while we have the chance."

"······Is that a sincere statement?"

Vlad smiled to himself as he looked at Sigurdsson who quickly nodded.

Though handing over the sword was an unpleasant experience, the opportunity to have the dwarves inspect his equipment would surely be rare.

This might be a chance to see why the West had been so adamant about not letting the dwarves leak out.

"There's an empty forge nearby, but······."

There was a small, humble forge that lingered in Vlad's memory.

It's getting cold right now because no one is using it, but perhaps it could still handle simple tasks.

"······?"

However, Vlad turned his head when a hand urgently grabbed his sleeve.

There was Zemina, with her eyes wide open as if she was surprised.

'No, not there!'

Though she only watched quietly, Zemina's eyes seemed to constantly beckon Vlad for conversation.

It seemed the red-haired girl didn't want to hand over the precious forge, imbued with their memories, to those drunkards.

※※※※

"······That'll take a while."

"There's no other choice. The only forge available is there."

Harven whispered to Vlad, watching Zemina still silently wiping the table with her mouth tightly shut.

It's been like that ever since the dwarves went up to take a nap.

"Even so, at least say no in front of her."

It couldn't be just about the forge.

She probably got upset with Vlad's indifferent response because they shared memories associated with the unadorned sword.

"By the way, when did you get here? Don't you know this area has been off-limits since yesterday?"

"Don't take your frustration out on me. You two should sort out your fight yourselves."

Harven smiled slyly, trying to dodge Vlad's question.

As just said, Rose's Smiles was off limits yesterday, but Harven still wanted to have a seat with them.

He just wanted to board their ship and see it, even just once.

"······So, did you find out anything?"

"I didn't find out anything, but I heard a few things."

Even though he knew he was noticed and acknowledged, he hadn't been chased away.

For a long time, they'd been sailing together, and there was an unspoken mutual benefit between them.

"The ship the dwarves came on."

"Yeah."

As if they'd just shared a great secret, Harven lowered his voice.

Vlad, following Harven's lead, also began to listen intently.

As much a topic of discussion as the dwarves themselves, the ship they arrived on was a matter of curiosity that even Vlad, who wasn't familiar with ships, couldn't help but be interested in.

"They said they heat water inside there."

"What?"

However, despite being filled with anticipation, the response that came was utterly bizarre.

Heating water?

Then the paddlewheel turns.

"What kind of nonsense is that?"

"Well... now that I say it out loud, it does sound nonsensical."

It sounded plausible in his head, but when spoken out loud, it sounded utterly strange.

Harven made a face that clearly indicated his disbelief, but there were many missing pieces between heating water and the paddlewheel turning.

"Maybe they brought a bathtub onto the ship or something."

"No, it's that steam... and then what was it again?"

Having been given the opportunity but ultimately ending up with empty talk, Vlad clicked his tongue as he looked at Harven.

If he could have uncovered even one secret about the ship, it would have been a great gain.

"Move aside. I need to report to the city hall."

"I... I need some time to think things over until today. I can do it."

"You drank Hoover's homemade liquor with dwarves yesterday. You won't remember a thing."

"Ah..."

At Vlad's mention of drinking even the liquor that shouldn't have been touched, Harven quietly wrapped his head with his hands.

Based on past experiences, he knew that like Vlad said, he wouldn't remember anything from yesterday.

"I'm going."

"Ugh..."

With Harven's groan-like words behind him, Vlad left, heading towards the city hall.

Having concluded yesterday's feast splendidly and secured accommodations that satisfied them, all that was left was reporting to Josef.

"....I should check it once."

Just taking a slight detour.

Since the topic came up, Vlad decided to stop by the old man's forge for the first time in a while.

It was a path he had walked almost his entire life, but walking through the back alley in broad daylight felt somewhat awkward.

The appearance of day and night were distinctly different, and the old forge, now closed shut, was no exception.

Seeing his hometown after such a long time brought both joy and awkwardness.

"No signs of anyone coming in."

Although it was an empty house, it was also a place where no one dared to trespass.

While it hadn't been actively maintained, anyone who had roamed the alleys would think twice before intruding on a place associated with Vlad.

Creak... Clang...

As the forge's door swung open with a twist, the accumulated dust greeted Vlad, filling the air with its musty scent.

The chair where the old man used to sit, the worn-out anvil that used to make a noisy racket, and even the small furnace that always burned brightly – all were covered in a thick layer of dust.

"Is this enough to be useful?"

Vlad surveyed the surroundings with a gaze as complicated as the piled-up dust, unable to decide whether to hand over this place to the dwarves.

He began to consider whether leaving it as a place of memories, as Zemina suggested, might be the better option.

----!

However, unlike Vlad who was sighing, the young lizard peeked its head out from the sword and its eyes were sparkling.

Though it was cold, the lizard's face looked familiar.

The young lizard hesitating on the flower of the World Tree clearly remembered the old blast furnace that had burned down with the old man.

"Well, if you don't like it, we can find another forge."

While its companions who had journeyed with the young lizard and Vlad's sword had all found places that suited them and left one by one, the young lizard had yet to find a place that truly resonated with it.

But the small, unassuming old forge seemed more appealing to the lizard than any place it had seen before.

Click...

A young seed quietly fell from the sword through the gap in the quietly closing door.

As the shimmering lizard disappeared into the forge, warmth began to emanate from the once silent forge.

※※※※

The familiar wheat field seemed no different from any other, yet there was an inexplicable sense that a drop of black ink had tainted it further.

Is it just a feeling that not only the wheat fields but everything in this territory feels that way?

"Lady Yustia, over here."

"..."

Holy knights who used to belong to San Rogino, but now belong to the Northern Orthodox Church.

They were currently coming to the territory formerly called Utman Barony to check the situation of the evil being.

"It's all rotten, milady."

"It's not just rotting."

As if to illustrate, the knight began to sift through the grains scattered between the darkened wheat.

Amongst the decaying wheat, there were still some grains retaining their color.

But within those grains, there seemed to be something missing.

"Even living things are reduced to chaff."

"..."

Yustia gazed at the debris of wheat, weakly scattered from her palm.

Broken grains drifted gently in the breeze.

"Why is it only like this here?"

It was the worst drought in memory.

Yet what was strange was that, except for the Utman Baronry, other areas showed normal harvests as usual.

Not only Yustia but also the other holy knights were left speechless by the sight of the fields as if they had been stamped with an ink-covered finger.

"We'll need to investigate further. Request support."

"Understood, Lady Yustia."

Even now, there were farmers behind them weeping over this year's ruined crops.

For those without a lord to protect them, and with no land to receive them, these withered wheat fields were akin to a death sentence.

"..."

Yustia's thin eyebrows formed a deep furrow as she gazed at them.

Baron Utman, who had caused an uproar in the North, was gone, but the scars he left behind seemed to still linger here.

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