Thump! Clang! Thump! Clang!
The rhythmic sound of hammering echoed through the Evergard forge.
As they stepped inside, the heat, the metallic scent, and the pungent smell of sweat from the men hit them all at once.
"Ugh, I always hate forges."
Muttered Sharen, who had tagged along despite saying she wouldn't.
Places where various senses intertwined so thickly and intricately like this weren't suited to someone from Helmut.
Their senses were far more developed than those of normal humans.
It wasn't for mere show that the entire estate was filled with the strong scent of roses.
"That's why I told you not to come."
"Well, it's boring to stay at home! Jonathan's off with the nun, so I'm alone! When's the Grandmaster coming back?"
The Grandmaster had left with Damien for the Rocky Mountains.
She had said she was retrieving something from her old residence, but there'd been no word since.
"She'll come back when it's time."
"Ugh, I'm so bored. I even came up with a joke for her!"
"..."
Isaac pretended not to hear her. Just then, Antonio, the blacksmith from the North, approached.
"Oh, you're here."
"How is it? Does the forge suit your hands?"
"Suit me? Ha! Never imagined I'd be hammering away in such a fancy place in my life! Once I get back, I'm just gonna collapse in front of the margrave's tent."
"..."
"Make me a forge like this too."
Grinning, Antonio stuck a cigarette in his mouth. At that moment, an irritated voice shouted from behind him.
"Smoke outside!"
The speaker didn't look like a blacksmith at all—more like a scholar.
Wearing glasses, he was Lapillon, a blacksmith from Helmut.
"Tch, everything would be perfect if that guy wasn't around."
Grumbling, Antonio walked past Isaac and Sharen and headed outside to smoke. Then Lapillon approached with a sigh and bowed politely.
"I heard you've resolved another major issue. You two never rest when it comes to the kingdom."
"Hmph!"
Lapillon was Helmut's exclusive blacksmith.
Belzarad of Arandel, Ragnavel of Liana, and Rozelin, who served Sharen—
He was the expert who forged greatswords only for Helmut's direct bloodline.
Having worked all his life with Jingol Steel—a special steel made for Helmut—this time, he had agreed to forge Isaac's katana.
"I like talking to Lapillon. He makes me feel like I'm super important!"
Sharen shrugged proudly, but Isaac ignored her and asked Lapillon,
"How is the progress? That man's quite stubborn, so I imagine it's difficult to find a middle ground."
Antonio, the northern blacksmith who had been forging Isaac's sword.
Lapillon, the Helmut blacksmith who had spent his life working with Jingol Steel to craft greatswords.
They had joined forces to forge a sword from Jingol Steel, but as blacksmiths often do, they weren't exactly getting along.
"Sigh… It's not just stubbornness. That man's got an iron will—literally."
"..."
"Jingol Steel is a steel specially made for Helmut to deal with crimson aura. It's incredibly delicate, but it can also hold a massive amount of mana—it's a treasure!"
Even if he didn't look it, Lapillon was still a craftsman.
Ranting about things only he understood was really no different from Antonio going outside to smoke.
"You know what I mean, right, Miss Sharen? Jingol Steel is amazing—!"
"Uh… um…"
Sharen hesitated, mouth open, unsure of what to say—when suddenly, a booming voice rang out like thunder.
"Of course Jingol Steel is amazing, you idiot!"
It was Antonio, back from his smoke.
"Ugh."
Sharen quickly covered her nose and hid behind Isaac to escape the smell of cigarettes.
But Antonio didn't notice and shouted passionately,
"But you have to look at who's using it! Hey! Look at this guy!"
He suddenly grabbed Isaac's arm and lifted it.
"This weak little twig wants to use something like that—!"
Antonio was about to yell more, but he paused, suddenly noticing the strange sensation in his hand.
"..."
Isaac wore an awkward expression.
Antonio stared at him, then began feeling his arm like he was admiring some fine product.
He poked and prodded with wonder, then stuck out his tongue in disbelief.
"Look at this guy?"
"Please stop touching me. It's creepy."
But Antonio just kept repeating the same words.
"No, look at this guy?! Just a year ago, he couldn't even swing a twig properly—just some nobody! But now he actually looks like a man!?"
"Sigh."
"You've trained this much, and you still want a light sword?!"
"My sword needs to be fast and sharp, after all."
"Hah! You have no idea how much you're asking from us blacksmiths, do you?! After all this training, you should've made it obvious!"
After saying that, Antonio quickly dragged Isaac over to where the swords were displayed.
"Try swinging them one by one. I need to see what weight you can handle right now so I can adjust accordingly."
Hearing that, Lapillon promptly followed behind.
"Actually, would you mind showing me how you swing a sword? Maybe a sword dance or something. To be honest, I still don't know much about your type of sword or Baron Logan's swordsmanship."
Lapillon adjusted his glasses.
Antonio clapped and nodded in agreement at his request.
"Ah, that sounds great! Show us a sword dance or something. We need to know what kind of sword you use, what your style is, and what techniques you mainly rely on."
At the suggestion of the two masters, Isaac placed his hand on 'Baekseol', which hung at his waist.
"Well, that's not hard."
Unlike blacksmiths who simply forge and sell swords,
These men created swords tailored for the person.
To forge a masterpiece solely for Isaac Logan, they furrowed their brows and focused intently.
The moment a breeze lightly blew—
"…"
"…"
Isaac calmly stood still, then slightly adjusted his stance and spoke.
"This is called 'iaido'. It's the technique I use the most."
"Huh?"
"Hmm?"
The two masters, who just moments ago carried themselves with great dignity, let out ridiculous sounds in unison.
Blink blink.
Watching them, Sharen let out a small laugh.
"Look! That! That's exactly it!"
Sharen pointed toward a scratch on the wall.
"You couldn't follow it with your eyes, but Isaac just did that!"
At her boastful words, one of the unnamed blacksmiths watching from the side awkwardly chimed in.
"Uh, that mark… I actually made it last time by accident while moving some stuff."
"…"
Sharen stood there, mouth agape, clearly stunned. Her wide eyes darted around as she frantically searched for a mark that Isaac might've left.
Isaac glanced at her and said quietly,
"I haven't swung it yet."
"…!"
Her mouth, already open, dropped even wider as she realized she'd been fooled.
The blank look on her face was impossible to hide, and Isaac let out a small chuckle as he actually swung his sword.
Vwoooom!
"Wah?!"
"Gah?!"
At the sound of the blade slicing through the air, the two blacksmiths instinctively stepped back.
And the once relaxed look in their eyes changed instantly, now shining with seriousness.
In the silence that followed, Isaac, who had already sheathed his sword again, spoke.
"That was the technique I mentioned—iaido. It's a technique focused on striking quickly."
"…That was fast. I barely saw it."
"Same here. Did you perhaps slow it down for us?"
"Yes. Would you like me to do it a little slower?"
The two masters nodded honestly.
As swordsmen themselves, their pride stung a bit, but they acknowledged they had just witnessed the skill level of the swordsman for whom they'd be crafting.
After Isaac swung the sword more slowly, the blacksmiths seemed to get a rough idea.
"Yeah, this guy doesn't need one of those overly light swords anymore."
"Keep the tensile strength of Jingol steel, but reduce the weight to the absolute minimum. Antonio, now I get why you were so fixated on the sword's weight and balance."
Lapillon adjusted his glasses and agreed.
Unlike Antonio, who had already experienced Isaac once before, Lapillon seemed genuinely excited to be tackling something entirely new.
"He's a different kind of swordsman from Helmut. Hah… I never thought a day like this would come again in my life."
He took off his glasses and wiped the dust from them.
It was as if he were replaying that single strike in his head.
Isaac's swing had completely captured his heart.
"The thrill I felt when I first saw Lord Arandel's greatsword… that excitement of knowing I'd be the one to forge his weapon."
His clenched fist held Lapillon's own resolve.
"This is exciting. Truly exciting. To think that the sword I'll make will accompany you on your path!"
Of course—
The title of 'Helmut's personal blacksmith' wasn't something just handed out.
It was a name earned by a man chosen directly by Arandel Helmut himself—a man more devoted to the sword than anyone else.
To win Arandel's favor, one had to be obsessed with the sword, or possess knowledge that met his high standards.
"Whew, haha… This is why, even as I age, I can't put down my hammer. My blood's boiling. Could you show me more of your sword techniques?"
Lapillon's eyes began to shimmer with growing madness, his desire for Isaac's sword bordering on obsession.
It went far beyond the passion of an ordinary craftsman.
To an outsider, his gaze might have seemed disturbing or even frightening.
But Isaac, meeting Lapillon's crazed eyes, felt nothing but exhilaration.
"Ah, of course. Of course, I'll show you more."
Isaac drew 'Baekseol' once more, a faint smile curling at the edge of his lips.
He too was a fanatic follower of the sword—
One who had earned the acknowledgment of none other than Arandel Helmut.