Youngest 036
by CristaeCome to think of it, the magic stone shop was right next to the forge. The old man, just coming out from there, spotted me and hurried over.
“So, you were out and about only to end up here? Hm?”
“Your beard… your beard…”
Rub, rub. After scooping me up and rubbing his face against mine to his heart’s content, Grandpa finally set me down.
“Ha, seriously. A real spectacle, you are.”
“Ah, the blacksmith, Mister.”
“Good day. Care to pick out some pretty scraps of iron?”
“No… Maybe later…”
It was only belatedly, hidden behind Grandpa’s massive form, that I realized the blacksmith was there. Shirtless as usual, he lounged with a pipe in one hand.
“Get lost. You’ll wear out my kid. Let me know when the next prototype is ready and only then.”
“That would be my pleasure, sir.”
The blacksmith scratched at his loosely tied green hair and turned away.
‘Hm? He seems oddly low-spirited today.’
I tilted my head, noticing how much more subdued he seemed compared to usual.
“Sigh, come on, let’s go.”
As soon as he disappeared, I asked Grandpa,
“Why is the blacksmith so down today? He’s different from last time.”
Grandpa replied gruffly.
“You mean Maddicks? It’s because there’s no work at the forge.”
“Oh? Really?”
“Well, with the war over, weapon orders dried up.”
“Gasp, so he’s going out of business?”
“Pff! Even that could be fun! But unfortunately, you’re only seeing things from the perspective of a weapons-crazed nutcase.”
“Aha.”
Grandpa looked unconcerned. He carried a faint whiff of iron, perhaps from spending the whole morning at the forge.
“Once he finishes with your sword and Void’s, he likely won’t have any new weapons to make for a while… That’s probably what’s got him down.”
“I see.”
“Enough of that idle talk. Show me your hand.”
My hand? Why…?
But it wasn’t anything difficult, so I stretched out both hands wide, holding them up in front of Grandpa.
“Here you go.”
“Ha, would you look at that! Really!”
His nose wriggled energetically as he examined my hands.
“So tiny and soft, honestly! No wonder I can’t be satisfied with any sword!”
Oh, so he’s fixated on the sword after all.
I imagined holding a sword for a moment.
It would be incredibly heavy and razor sharp, right?
‘But I’ll look so strong.’
Heh heh heh. Suddenly, I wanted one badly.
“Tsk, with these hands I’ll have to redesign the handle from scratch…”
Grandpa’s muttering trailed on.
I gazed at him and drifted into thought.
Just then, in the distance, I spotted a knight tearing down the street, raising a cloud of dust.
“Huh? That’s Senior Oberon!”
For whatever reason, despite leaving his horse somewhere, he was sprinting down the street on foot.
Of course… he was just about as fast as someone riding a horse.
“Oberon, that fool. He’s lost his mind.”
Even before Grandpa finished speaking, he picked his moment and swung out his left leg.
With a tremendous crashing racket, Senior Oberon took a spectacular spill across the ground.
“Where are you rushing to?”
“Ack. Who the hell tripped—oh, you.”
Against the sunlight, a beast grinned down… As I looked up at that rugged face, I felt it all over again.
‘He’s really… so mean.’
Couldn’t he just call out and have people stop like a normal person?
“Gah, Your Excellency! To fail to avoid your ambush—I see I still have far to go! I am enlightened!”
Yet the senior seemed perfectly used to it.
“So why were you racing off like your eyebrows were on fire?”
“Ah, I was headed to His Grace the Duke! There’s a new recruit hoping to join the order!”
“What…?”
Grandpa’s whiskers twitched.
“A new prospect for our northern ranks?”
His voice was brimming with excitement.
Meanwhile, when I heard it, my nape prickled with a cold chill.
It was more like an intuition—a premonition.
‘A child of an illegitimate branch…’
It couldn’t be, right?
“G-Grandpa! I’m dying to know who it is! Finally, someone junior to me! Wow!”
I laid it on thick, and Grandpa, ever earnest about training new blood, swallowed the bait at once.
“Let’s go, now!”
He swiftly unhooked the horse from the carriage and swung up, tucking me into his arms as he took off.
“Gasp, Lord Rubian! Your Excellency—!”
No one could halt the old marquis’s mad dash.
The people of Zelox stepped aside and folded their stalls with the composed air of the thoroughly accustomed.
Thanks to that, we crossed a distance of thirty minutes in only ten, arriving at the knights’ hall…
“Wow. Long live madness…”
As expected.
There was no twist.
“Well, what’s this half-grown brat?”
The one brazenly declaring before the Zevert Order that he wanted to join—
‘Khalid Riorc…’
—was none other than my friend, the mage boy.
Grandpa paced around like a predator, observing Khalid.
“Hm. Looks like someone who’s handled a sword before, at least.”
Worn cloak, battered sword in one hand. A bag slung carelessly over one shoulder.
I craned my neck to peek at his bag. Inside was a map, now heavily creased after just a day.
So he’d spent the night wandering Zelox, memorizing every inch.
‘Why did I give him that map? Idiot.’
No need to prove he’d been a mercenary.
“….”
“….”
With a short sigh, I glanced up and locked eyes with Khalid.
Only then did I realize my own predicament.
Me—clutched to Zevert’s old marquis like a favorite doll…
For Khalid, only ever having seen me so independent and sharp, this must have been a tough sight to accept.
‘I know exactly what’s on your mind.’
I stared hard and warned him silently.
‘Not a word. Say nothing.’
Pretending to zip my mouth shut.
‘Leave. We’ll talk later!’
Shoo, shoo.
He must have understood perfectly, but Khalid only gave a faint smirk and looked away. His deep blue hair stirred faintly.
What—is he mocking me?
“Here, my application.”
“You even brought a form? More diligent than you seem.”
Grandpa took the paper Khalid offered. The cream-colored parchment had large, bold script scribbled all over.
“Catch… what?”
“Oh.”
Khalid hesitated for a split second, then crossed out the word “to catch.”
“….”
Grandpa stared at the parchment, dumbfounded.
A silence fell. Khalid raised his brows, scanning his paperwork and the room as if wondering what was missing. “Aha,” he murmured, laying down the paper again.
Then, without so much as a pause, he drew a dagger.
“What the—!”
He sliced his thumb and pressed it firmly to the page, leaving a bloody print.
“I haven’t got a proper seal.”
“You ever see one this extreme?”
Grandpa and all the knights wore looks of horror. Khalid, unfazed, simply licked the blood away.
‘He’s really out of his mind…’
His eyes, cat-like and tilted up at the corners, narrowed slightly. The two vertical dots under his left eye gave him a sly, mischievous look.
‘Is this right?’
He seemed almost proud, as though asking the question.
Of course it isn’t.
“What I was trying to ask was, who is this ‘childhood friend’ here supposed to be! You lunatic brat!”
Grandpa jabbed at the bottom portion of the form.
Khalid tilted his head as though surprised, then extended his unbloodied hand.
“Her.”
“What? Me?”
“No. The one you’re holding like a doll in your arms.”
“….”
“I’m her childhood friend.”
The room broke out in a commotion.
“What! A friend of our little dumpling?!”
Dumpling… what?
Grandpa slammed his fist on the table. The feeble furniture split with a crack.
‘That, that’s it!’
Whether Khalid knew how I was quaking inside or not, he simply grinned back at me.
After a moment, still clutching his form, he strode across the room.
“From your face, it seems you missed me dearly…”
He halted at the door, which had just begun to open with a creak.
“Will you give your permission?”
“….”
“Duke Zevert.”
Just emerging, Mister frowned as he looked at the application marked with a blood-seal.