Konrad had a day to prepare for his duel, but he couldn't make a return trip to Eytjangard.
Not when he had lost his coachman.
Welf—the old and the young—both retreated into the tribe's smithy with his hoard of adamantite. The billowing dark smoke made it obvious how hard they worked.
It seemed like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to learn about the process, but—
"No, these are generational secrets. I can't let you in there," the redhead turned him back before he'd even open his mouth. What a betrayal.
"Come on, it's my ore," Konrad pointed out. "I should have a say in what you guys make of it."
The older Welf stuck his head out, grizzled face hard as stone, and took a single glance at him.
Almost as if he looked through him—and while they never had a proper introduction, Konrad knew that stare. It reminded him of Lily's demonic eyes—all-seeing, and impossible to fool.
The thought of someone finding out his deepest secrets from looking alone—
"Bastard sword," the blacksmith grumbled, and Konrad felt taken aback.
"A ba—Is that some kind of an insult?" his gasp earned a facepalm from his friend.
"And you wanted to have a say?" Welf junior scoffed—definitely an insult. "From how well you are handling your blades, I would've expected you to know at least a little about them, too."
"Care to explain?" Konrad raised his nose, overplaying the offense.
The elder Welf replied—Haraldson, as he remembered.
Yes, that was what he'd call him from now on to avoid confusion.
"You might know it as a one-and-a-half-handed sword," he said. "The love child of an arming sword and a zweihander—a bastard. Adamantite will be light enough for one-handed use."
"Oh," was all Konrad could say.
Yes, his old one was a basic arming sword—or a longsword, as roleplay nuts in his previous life would've called it. Welf improved on the design when reforging it, but the core was the same.
It was simple, cheap—in the terms of blades—and most mercenaries carried one.
With some training, anyone could wield it without inhumane strength. The redhead's greatsword, though—he wouldn't even attempt to lift that thing.
"Let the boys do boyish things, Konny baby," Lily grabbed his arm.
It felt like she appeared from nowhere—he couldn't imagine her staying silent all this time.
Haraldson shot her a stern look, then his grizzled face softened.
No words—whatever it was between them, they wouldn't solve it that day. The old man disappeared into his sanctuary of hammers, and—
"Oh, that'd be a cool name for a tavern," Lily invaded the privacy of his mind again.
But she was right, he couldn't even get mad at her.
"Of course, you can't," she smirked, adding. "Imma borrow him for a while, Welf."
Her brother could only give them a curt nod, and she'd pull Konrad away with a force impossible to ignore. Like the rest of her, he caught eyes following them everywhere.
The tribesmen didn't even bother with him.
They all saw his twin already, but Lily? She earned their awe wherever she went.
"This is our mess hall," she said, dragging him along. "And that is an ancient relic of the Blood Moon tribe. Something something warrior shaman's spear, I don't care. It's adamantite, too."
The hall was empty, and she wasted no time reaching for that massive weapon.
"Hold on," Konrad tried to pull her back. He wanted to ask if it was okay to touch a relic like that without permission. What came out instead was "Why did they exile you, by the way?"
Lily's delicate hand froze in the air, but she turned to face him with a smirk.
"Ever heard of the cliche of 'with great power comes great responsibility'?" She rolled her eyes.
Konrad did, actually, back in his previous life—and in a movie theater of all places.
Her grin spread wider.
"Yeah, so, my power was too much for them to handle." She shrugged, taking the spear from its stand. "And turning the chieftain's son into a snail might've had something to do with it, too."
"What?! I thought that's stuff people would say about sorcerers to scare children," he scowled.
"Nu-uh. Pretty advanced stuff, but leaves a lasting impression." There was an evil glint in her hazel eyes. "So anyway, you won't have time to practice with your sword, so here is this instead."
Konrad was reluctant to touch the relic she shoved in his face.
"I've never used spears before."
"You're not going to poke anyone with it," Lily said, rolling her eyes. "Think of it like a scepter. Or, uh, when you used those crystals in the dungeon. Adamantite has similar properties."
"I had no idea," he admitted, his mouth hanging open.
Still so much to learn.
"No? Then why did you even want an adamantite sword so bad?" She teased him with a grin.
Given how well she could read his mind, she must have already known.
"Because it sounded cool?" Konrad played along anyway.
"They sure are," Lily laughed, forcing the shaft into his hands.
Even when she wore modest outfits, his mind still kept wandering back to that steamy night with her. And now that he was holding the shaft instead of her—no, focus your dirty mind.
"We could make some time for a quickie," she offered with a grin, mocking him.
"N-no, thanks." Hardest words he had ever said—in more ways than one. "So how do I use this?"
Lily's bright laughter filled the mess hall, echoing from the walls before answering.
"Think of it as a battery—or a capacitor." How'd she even know those words? "You can charge it with your mana, or borrow from it in an instant, and it can amplify your magic, and range, too."
"That sounds useful—but not for a shaman," Konrad noted, confused.
The weapon felt quite heavy in his hand, but somehow it resonated with him from the start.
"What do you mean, not useful?" Lily raised an eyebrow, even pouting a little.
"I, uh—in the Green Mages' notes," he scrambled to explain. "He wrote that shamans use the spirits' mana to cast their spells—so what use would they have for a battery?"
"Hah, what a fraud," she scoffed. "That's holy magic. Saints like to feed their mana to the bishops, but spirits? They are all made of mana and would disappear if they did so."
Konrad's eyes widened.
"What? But Nimrod kept bombarding Halaima with huge boulders—"
"The spell itself might've come from spirits—but he paid with his own essence." Lily nodded. How much mana did that Blessed Nut have?! "You two were born with the same amount."
Sometimes it was handy that she could read his questions before he could even say them.
"But I had none whatsoever, until you gave me that dragon's core," he noted, scratching his temple. This time, it was the other way around. She didn't have to say it for him to figure it out.
The spirits blessed Nimrod and cursed him.
"That ruby didn't give me this crazy mana pool," he gasped, putting the puzzle together. "It only unlocked my curse. So a duel between us—"
"Yeah, he has the same mana, but better spells," Lily finished for him. "You aren't in a good spot."