Chapter 118
“Beric.”
“…Ugh!”
At Ian’s call, Beric sprang upright. His eyes shone brightly, sharp and clear as ever, but the drool stain on his cheek betrayed a night of deep, sweet sleep. With a sly grimace, Beric muttered,
“Ah, man. I’m exhausted from staying up all night. I really need to go out and get some meat today.”
“Beric, I just heard you snoring.”
“Must’ve been your imagination.”
Beric rubbed his philtrum and glanced nervously at Ian. Though he had stood guard alertly until dawn, the moment he saw the servant Mini coughing, he’d lost consciousness. Now, worried Ian might scold him, Beric kept darting glances around, skirting the edges of the room.
“Anything happen overnight?”
“Nope. Nothing at all.”
“Then go wash your face before breakfast. You look a bit rough.”
“Food! Let’s eat!”
With a clatter, Beric dashed upstairs at Ian’s permission. Mini, carrying warm soup, hesitated mid-step.
“You’re already heading up? You said you wanted soup at dawn, so I made some. Such impatience.”
“Just bring it along with the meal.”
“Understood.”
Mini mentioned that at dawn, Beric had been standing in front of the main gate, eyes red and wide open. Ian was satisfied—Beric seemed to handle his tasks well enough—as they entered the dining room. Lady Vivianna and Romandro were already there, dressed lightly.
“Good morning, Sir Ian.”
“Thanks to you, ma’am. I slept very comfortably.”
“There’s much to do today, so prepare quickly and get going.”
Vivianna seemed to have carefully prepared a shopping list overnight. She unfolded the neatly folded paper and slowly recited the route through the commercial district they’d cover that day.
Amid the scent of melting butter and the chill in the air, warmed by the gentle sunlight streaming in, Ian felt a rare sense of peace. Hasha seemed to feel it too, sitting quietly and sipping milk.
“Hasha, any unusual smells? Anything different from yesterday?”
“Doesn’t seem like it. Though right now, the butter scent is overpowering.”
Hasha twitched his nose, eyes glazed in bliss.
‘Guess I was worrying for nothing.’
After making enemies on the border and then stepping into their lair, plus facing Marib and Gale one after another, Ian had been on edge.
“Food! Food, food!”
…Poor Beric got caught in the crossfire.
Feeling a bit sorry, Ian brewed some tea himself. Whether he noticed or not, Beric began devouring the food on the table with gusto.
“Haah! This is delicious!”
“Sorry, ma’am. This might not be good for your pregnancy.”
“Oh no, I saw you two out yesterday. You ate so heartily, it was nice to see.”
“Mini! Make sure the carriage is warmed up.”
“Yes, Lord Romandro!”
Just stepping outside the upscale residential area, the streets grew complicated. With more foot traffic, illegal couriers darting between carriages, and children on bicycles, congestion was inevitable. To avoid shivering in the cold, the carriage had to be preheated.
“So, where to first?”
Beric asked between bites, and Vivianna answered.
“We’re going to entrust the escort knight’s sword to a nearby, very old blacksmith. They sharpen blades like no other. After that, we’ll buy clothes, then retrieve the sword after lunch and head back.”
Beric nodded, finishing his meal. His sword was already so dull it was better suited for swinging than cutting.
“Alright! Let’s go! Burp”
“Beric!”
“…Sorry.”
Hasha scowled in irritation and let out a low growl. And so, their peaceful morning began.
“This is the blacksmith’s.”
“Ian, Vivianna and I will wait here. Hurry and get it done.”
“Understood. Beric, come with me.”
“Yes, sir! Let’s go sharpen our black blade~!”
The blacksmith’s shop wasn’t far from Romandro’s estate. Ian and Beric entered, swords in hand. The air was thick with sweat and the deafening clang of metal on metal.
Wheeeeng!
Bang! Clang! Bang!
Beric covered his ears, shouting something, but it was lost in the noise. Ian looked around and spotted a yellow bell.
Click.
Pressing it lit all the lanterns visible to the blacksmiths—a sort of doorbell announcing a customer. Immediately, the hammering stopped, and the smiths turned toward the entrance.
“Boss! We’ve got a customer!”
“Ah, yes. What brings you here, sir?”
“Sir?” The blacksmith glanced at Beric, trailing off uncertainly.
“My sword’s blade is too dull. I want it sharpened sharp.”
“Wait a moment. Hmm? Is this really a sword?”
“Yes. How much?”
“Five copper coins should cover it, but that’s not the problem. Do you know what this is made of?”
“No idea. I’m no expert.”
Ian had only thought the color was a bit dark. As the blacksmith examined the blade with growing suspicion, others gathered to look.
“What’s with the color?”
“Could it be infused with memento?”
“Darker than that. Hopefully not demonstone.”
“Don’t say stupid things! Demonstone isn’t common.”
“Sir, if you don’t know what it is, we won’t be responsible if it breaks while sharpening.”
Ian looked at Beric, silently asking what to do. Beric just scratched his ear and nodded casually.
“Even if it breaks more, it’s better that way. If it snaps in half, it’ll stab better.”
“Do as you see fit. Please take good care of it.”
While Ian paid, the smiths kept inspecting Beric’s sword. It seemed the thieves had stolen something extraordinary.
“We’ll come back for it by tonight.”
“Yes! Thank you! We’ll sharpen it with all our heart!”
Screech! Bang!
Outside, the heat from the forge had already flushed Beric’s face bright red. Ian probably looked the same.
Ian was about to board the carriage but paused. He heard the soft crunch of footsteps in the snow behind him. Beric tilted his head, wondering why Ian wasn’t getting on. Vivianna tried the door handle, thinking it might be locked. Ian gently tapped the window to signal her not to.
Tap, tap.
“Lord Romandro, please head to the tailor’s first.”
“Huh? Ian, what about you?”
“I’ll walk to cool off from the forge’s heat. I know the way, so don’t worry. The tailor’s just past the crossing, immediately to the left, right?”
Had he been here before? Ian seemed to know the city’s heart like the back of his hand. Romandro, puzzled but saying nothing, urged the coachman onward.
Neigh!
As the carriage pulled away, Beric gaped in disbelief.
“Ian! What about me? Lord Ro-man-dro! Take me too!”
“You’re coming with me.”
“But I’m freezing!”
“Come on. Follow me slowly.”
Ian turned down an alley opposite the carriage’s direction. Beric grumbled but had no choice but to follow, unfamiliar with the way. They slipped deeper into quiet, tangled backstreets. Even at midday, shadows from the buildings blocked the sun, plunging the city’s underbelly into gloom.
Tap, tap, tap!
By then, Beric noticed someone trailing them. He rubbed his bare hands on his shirt and muttered,
“I should’ve bought a new sword when I got this one sharpened.”
“Looks like you’ve got some money, Beric.”
“Isn’t the master supposed to buy it for me?”
“This way.”
Thud! Thud-thud-thud!
The strange footsteps kept pace, agile and determined not to lose them. But then—
Snap!
“Ih.”
As they rounded a corner, the two vanished without a trace. The pursuer panted, scanning the area. No side alleys to slip into. Gritting her teeth, she turned—
“Hello~?”
Wham!
Beric lunged forward, throwing a punch. The attacker caught it smoothly, then used the momentum to counterattack. Her robe billowed like a wave.
Pow!
“Whoa.”
Beric blinked, genuinely surprised. But only for a moment—his eyes gleamed, and a wide grin spread across his face, like a predator spotting prey.
“Hey! You’re pretty good!”
“Shut up! Are you Ian?”
“Yeah, that’s me~.”
Pow! Thwack!
Smack!
Their flawless exchange left no opening.
From her voice, she sounded like a woman, but her fighting stance was anything but ordinary. Unlike raw Beric, she moved like a seasoned warrior. Her strength matched his, leaving Ian silently amazed.
“Beric, she’s left-handed.”
She mainly used her left fist, meaning her right side was relatively open. Ian whispered the tip, and Beric immediately slipped to her right, smashing his head into her jaw.
Smack!
“Ahhh!”
There was the unmistakable sound of something shattering. Berrick rubbed his forehead and jabbed the pursuer’s side, urging her to get up.
“Hey, hey. Get up. You’re not out of it yet…”
Zzzzzing.
The woman lifted her head. Her dark navy, medium-length bob was neat and smooth, without layers—signs she came from a well-off family.
But above all, her eyes shone brightly. Within her natural black pupils, a sharp, icy blue glow flickered.
“…A magic swordsman?”
“So you’re Berrick! Die!”
Smack!
Whether from Berrick’s headbutt or something else, her lower jaw was a bloody mess. She unleashed her magic, reaching out her hand. A shimmering blue dagger flickered in midair. She thrust her hand forward as if throwing it at Berrick.
Whoosh!
“Whoa! What the hell is that?!”
“Berrick!”
The speed was impossible to dodge. Startled, Berrick flinched, and Ian unleashed a sudden burst of magical energy.
Boom!
A deafening explosion shook the alleyway, sending muddy dust flying everywhere. Visibility dropped to zero. Ian waved his hand, clearing the dust. The pursuer lay panting, face down on the ground.
“What the hell? Why is she attacking and then the one who’s down?”
“Shut up! Huff, huff…”
“Looks like that was the finishing blow, Berrick.”
“Ah, so it’s over after one hit?”
The woman bit her lip and glared at the two of them, but she couldn’t deny it. It was true. She hadn’t expected to have to use her final strike like that.
“Alright, now it’s our turn. Got any weapons? No?”
“To a bare-handed fighter, wielding a weapon is both shameful and extravagant.”
Berrick cracked his knuckles and stepped forward. The woman staggered to her feet, adopting a fighting stance again. She spat on the ground, and a broken molar clattered out along with the blood.
“Ah, you’ve got guts. Shall we introduce ourselves?”
“I—am—!”
She screamed like a sharp battle cry, then lunged at Berrick, throwing a punch.
“The proud daughter of Petreio, captain of the Imperial Palace’s elite guard!”
Petreio.
Ian immediately recognized the name.
The man who, under Morin’s orders, had tried to kill Ian—and who ultimately took his own life to keep his honor.
“Barsabe Bruted!”
“Oh yeah? Nice to meet you! I’m Berrick—no proud parents here! Damn it, just Berrick!”
“Your father’s enemy!”
“What are you talking about? You’ve got the wrong guy!”
Smack!
Their fists collided simultaneously against each other’s faces. Ian winced, feeling the pain just by watching. He closed his eyes briefly.