CHAPTER 165

The morning was filled with the chirping of birds.

The employees were busy moving around the inn, which had become quiet perhaps due to the regular customers being driven out.

"Smells good, Marcella."

"Are you up already?"

Vlad sat down casually at the small counter reserved for staff only.

It used to be a place for Jorge and his associates, but now it was predominantly used by Vlad and Harven, where the scent of fragrant soup wafted through.

"What about Harven?"

"He left early this morning. Seems he's guiding the dwarves."

"Oh, really?"

It seemed like Harven was going to board the dwarves' ship.

Though it wasn't necessarily his intention, making friends with the dwarves wasn't a bad idea at all, so Vlad casually picked up the soup bowl in front of him.

"I'll enjoy this. Marcella."

"But didn't Zemina make that?"

"······."

Vlad just raised his spoon silently, looking at Marcella who showed a playful smile towards him.

A redhead who is busy moving around in a small bar.

Seeing Zemina, who seemed to deliberately avoid eye contact with him, Vlad just focused on enjoying his meal.

"How long are you going to sulk? I didn't even give it to them in the first place."

"······What do you mean?"

Zemina's lips protruded as if she couldn't bring herself to say it or she purposely turned away.

"The dwarves insisted on working at the old man's forge. I tried to redirect them to another forge."

"······."

Knowing it was inevitable, it didn't mean it wasn't disappointing.

Despite sharing many memories with Vlad since childhood, Zemina's most cherished memory was related to the unadorned sword.

Vlad wasn't the only one who took pride in his unadorned sword.

"After all, dwarves could use it well. Just like how Rose's Smiles is getting attention now..."

"I don't know. I might go to the obedient Noir who listens to me."

If it's going to be discarded anyway, anyone could use it.

Moreover, it was somewhat of an honor as the dwarves, who were revered as craftsmen, use it, but Zemina's feelings remained complex.

"Why is she like that?"

Vlad was furrowing his brows as he watched Zemina run down the stairs as if to avoid him, but the one who was really heartbroken was probably Marcella, who was watching them.

"If it were before, I would've just thrown them both in a room."

"Pardon?"

"No, let's eat the soup. Hurry up."

Marcella just smiled, lamenting that she had to go back and forth on something that would have been resolved in one go in the past.

"Anyway, where are you going today? Lately, it seems like Mr. Vlad is the busiest one in Shoara."

"I plan to stop by the forge first and then go to the church. Lord Andrea asked me to do something."

"You're on familiar terms with the bishop? You've grown up a lot, Vlad."

Marcella gently patted Vlad's head as he ate his soup.

It's inevitable that both of them will feel sorry for each other.

As evident now, Vlad had a mountain of work to focus on, and Zemina must have endured watching him like this.

"But how much did you pay?"

"What?"

"The donation. To the convent."

Marcella's eyes widened in surprise as she looked at Vlad's hand holding out for another bowl.

"I heard the convent didn't even open its doors at the time."

"······."

Vlad always ate light breakfast, but today he held out his bowl as if he had a lot of work to do.

"Later, I heard they were only given one meal a day to the children there."

"······Yeah. That's how it was."

Just as Zemina had unforgettable memories, Vlad also had memories he couldn't forget.

On the day he first visited the convent, the red-haired girl he had met with a hopeful heart was now so skinny that tears came to his eyes.

"So, are you going to the convent today?"

"That foolish girl knows nothing."

With a sigh, Vlad looked back at the full soup bowl and lifted his spoon.

It was unfair from Vlad's perspective that despite all he did for her, he only received ingratitude in return.

"Yeah. Do well today and come back."

Though there was a slight discord, eventually, Marcella stopped smiling as she watched the two facing each other.

Indeed, leaving her position was a wise choice.

Such a scene was something one wouldn't see in the dirty Rose's Smiles of the past.

Watching Vlad eat his soup for a while, Marcella gently patted his head again, as if to say he did well.

※※※※

The shadows of the eyes as deeply as the height of the piled documents.

The old man looking at Josef didn't hide his worried expression.

It hadn't been long since he heard about Josef collapsing, yet having to handle such a murderous workload, it was inevitable for him to be concerned.

"You seem quite busy these days."

Josef smiled as he met the old man's gaze, but instead, it emphasized the darkness under his eyes.

No matter how mature Josef might seem, in the eyes of the old man, he still appeared as vulnerable as a child.

"Even though you're busy, you must take care of your health, young master."

"Nevertheless, meeting Lord Larmund after a long time feels like relieving some fatigue."

A person who can address to Josef, a descendant of the noble Bayezid and the mayor of Shoara, as "young master."

Retired knight Larmund, who serves under Bayezid, couldn't help but squint at Josef with a slightly resentful look, then cleared his throat.

"By the way, what brings you here? Is it something urgent?"

"I haven't come for any urgent matters regarding my personal affairs."

Having completed his duties even to the lowest rank, Larmund had achieved a perfect retirement and was busy with his small chores in his manor near Varna.

Larmund, who was living the retired life that every knight dreamed of, was, as Josef said, a man who would not bother to come all the way to Shoara unless there was something special to do.

"Are you here because of Vlad?"

"Oh, of course, that scoundrel is one of the reasons I've come."

As Larmund heard Vlad's name, he began to smile.

For Larmund, the nearest city was Varna, but the one he cherished was Shoara, and one of the reasons for that was Vlad, which was an undeniable fact.

"While I'm here, I thought I might as well check on things, but it's not solely because of that scoundrel."

However, Larmund's reason for coming to Shoara wasn't solely because of Vlad.

"Would you care to take a look at this?"

Larmund laid down a piece of paper as he spoke.

The paper was dirty here and there, as if it had rolled on the floor, but the letters written on it were preserved and clearly identifiable.

"...The emblem of the Vatican."

"Yes."

However, what caught Josef's eye more than the words written on the paper were the symbols imprinted beneath them.

The emblem of the church is similar to the Northern Orthodox Church, but takes a completely different form.

Traces of the Vatican, which had been ousted by the Northern Union, were now before Josef's eyes.

"These papers have been spreading from small villages and communities lately. Of course, it didn't matter to our manor workers since they can't read, but..."

Traces of the Vatican were spreading from the outskirts, cleverly avoiding the eyes of those in power.

While it might not have had much effect on ordinary peasants who couldn't read, once recognized by someone, the rumors started by these papers would spread far and wide through word of mouth.

The symbol engraved at the bottom of the paper was something even people who couldn't read could recognize.

".....Northern people, listen. God is angry because of the emergence of false heresy."

Josef read aloud the paper Larmund had brought.

However, it may not be Josef's fault that he stuttered and couldn't read it all at once.

The handwriting was so messy that it seemed more like it was drawn rather than written, almost as if it had been done by someone who couldn't write.

"Faith in false idols is an act that greatly offends Him, the only one. We can already see His wrath upon you..."

However, the content contained within was clear.

Shallow wisdom, and an obvious intent.

While it was a paper clearly intended for incitement, Josef couldn't help but feel discomfort from it.

"...A plague will come. Before the year is over."

Starting as a warning, but ending as a curse.

A deep silence began to fill the office at the last sentence, which said that wrath would come to those who follow false words.

".....It's quite specific. They've specified times and events accurately."

"Yes. It's odd if it was just meant to scare people."

If it was just meant to scare people, it would have been better to express it in more vague terms.

However, the problem was that the wording on the paper was too specific for its intended purpose.

"....If these words miss their mark, it might have the opposite effect."

Josef looked down at the crumpled paper in silence.

Roughly made but confident words.

While such incitement was nothing less than despicable, Josef knew well that the Vatican was not an insignificant entity.

The words that seemed closer to prophecy continued to weigh heavily on Josef's mind.

※※※※

Now, in a back alley where even a cold chill could be felt.

It wasn't as bustling as the Rose's Smiles nor as crowded as other places; just a few dilapidated buildings lined the street.

Yet, from the end of the chilly street, warmth began to spread like a campfire igniting.

It emanated from the old forge that had been closed for a long time.

Clang! Bang!

The beats were different, but the sounds were similar.

The sound of hammers coming from the forge, along with the warm orange light, began to travel through the dark back alleys like before.

".....I don't understand."

Sigurdsson stopped hammering for a while and scratched his head when he saw an iron ingot still radiating heat. 

"Is this supposed to happen here?"

At his muttering, the dwarves around him simultaneously shook their heads.

The reason the dwarves were puzzled was because the iron ingot, which smoothly reflected the surrounding light, could easily be said to be of high quality.

Even if you look at it through the eyes of dwarves, who are artisans from birth.

"No matter how you look at it, this doesn't make sense."

"We absolutely can't use this."

"With the equipment we have here, we can only fix kitchen knives at best."

After pondering for a while, Sigurdsson and the dwarves simultaneously looked at the old furnace inside the forge.

----?

The young lizard startled by numerous gazes fixed upon it.

However, despite its innocent expression, the spirit was swimming confidently in the molten iron, as if saying, "This much is nothing."

"I heard there was something called an ember, but this is the first time I've seen it."

"I doubt there's anyone here who has seen one before, Captain."

"True, I've only heard stories myself."

The dwarves' legacy, now crumbling and scarce, existed only as stories, as Sigurdsson mentioned.

The pride to be remembered and the ambition to preserve were fading slowly even at this moment.

"We have to take it somehow."

But with everything crumbling now, before Sigurdsson and the crew lay just one ember, once adorned with glory.

Even at this very moment, the potential of the dwarves was slowly fading away as the pride they had to cherish and the pride they had to protect were fading away.

"······I have to take it somehow."

But now that everything has collapsed, there is an ember swimming in front of Sigurdsson and his crew that was said to have heated up the glorious blast furnace in the past.

A young spirit, riding on the blade of a knight named Vlad, had come all the way here.

Finally encountered after so long, the two worlds stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity.

"Huh? What?"

"No, not that!"

But perhaps it had been too long since they last met.

Since they had forgotten how to communicate with each other, the young lizard misinterpreted the eager looks of the dwarves.

Do we really need this again?

"No! Don't vomit now!"

Gurgle!

Anticipating the situation, Sigurdsson quickly reached out his hand, but the young lizard was too excited.

For the young ember, the world of dwarves was like a piece that fit perfectly.

Bring sand, not water! Sand!

Everything here will burn! Stop!

Aaargh! Stop spitting!

Accompanied by the screams of the dwarves, the eruption of pure molten iron ensued.

Seeing the dwarves rushing out of the forge unable to withstand the intense heat, Vlad, who had just arrived, couldn't help but make a startled noise.

"Huh?"

Vlad, who had come to the forge to pick up the armor for repair, witnessed the scene.

The sight of the excited young lizard spewing flames, the aging forge heating up, and the dwarves screaming.

However, even amidst the rising heat inside the forge, the young lizard seemed to greet Vlad with enthusiasm, wagging its tail as if saying hello.

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