Swordmaster of the Great Wall

-Kang. Kang.

The loud sound of pounding metal echoed. The blacksmiths inside the forge, recognizing Finn, bowed their heads to him.

"Oh dear, steward. Welcome."

Without a word, Finn thrust a pouch filled with gold coins toward them. For a single sword, it was an extravagantly high price.

But the blacksmiths knew. They understood that the payment also included the cost of keeping their mouths shut about the sword's creation.

Confirming the hefty weight of the pouch, the blacksmith grinned.

"Is the item ready?"

"Yes, indeed it is."

The blacksmith bowed so low his nose nearly touched the floor, then handed Finn a long sword.

― Tsk.

After checking the condition of the sword, Finn quietly nodded. The blacksmith then spoke up.

"It was quite difficult to craft, as I'm not used to such a weapon. I used only the best materials. The heaviest southern steel and hundred-year-old oak went into it."

"As you should. You are being paid well, after all."

"Still, what is something like this for? Is it to be awarded to the watchmen? In that case, gilding would've been better; there was no need to make it this plain..."

The blacksmith's voice grew quieter and quieter, aware of Finn's cold stare.

"A-ah, never mind. The people above must have their reasons."

"Anyway, well done. But you must keep your mouth shut. If word of this gets out... you know what's at stake."

"Of course. I've already warned the others."

Leaving behind the blacksmith, who forced an awkward smile, Finn stepped out of the forge.

'... Just what does the young master intend to do with such an unwieldy sword?'

Finn wondered. No swordsman in the south used a sword like this. For all its length and heaviness, it didn't even have very high armor penetration.

But Finn soon realized that Erich was no longer the naïve young master he once thought he knew.

Somehow, the young master now handled everything with ease as if he'd completely changed overnight, and Finn couldn't help but trust him now.

'This must have a purpose too.'

After the 32-rounds ended, Erich and Konrad negotiated. Because of the rearranged bracket, Erich advanced to the semifinals unscathed and with ease.

Meanwhile, Ludwig had barely made it to the semifinals, every moment filled with peril.

Rumor had it the grand duchess provided him with rare armor and a sword—even, some said, with a so-called elixir.

Some people even said that Ludwig was so seriously injured that he couldn't fight any further.

But surprisingly, people didn't question the changed bracket. Though it changed suddenly, perhaps the audience only cared about being entertained.

'... If the roles were reversed, people might have found it suspicious.'

It seemed everyone was willing to overlook a minor benefit for a bastard with no backing.

But if Ludwig, a legitimate child of Krupp, had gained from it, he might have faced scorn behind his back even if nothing was said publicly.

'Did the young master predict all this?'

If so, Erich's foresight was on a whole different level than Finn had realized.

However, now came the real challenge. The upcoming semifinal was a showdown against Milon Roland.

Finn was simply anxious, wondering what tricks the grand duchess might have up her sleeve.

Still, Finn couldn't help but feel uneasy. Until now, Erich's judgment had never once lagged behind the grand duchess's.

While it was impossible to know for sure, he trusted this too was within Erich's calculations.

Finn hurried his pace, intent on delivering Erich's sword before the duel.

***

The cheers of the crowd could be heard. Swords clashed, and men's shouts echoed.

― Kkang! Kagagagak!

Ludwig's body trembled. His opponent's sword ceaselessly battered his armor. A faint smile crept onto Erich's lips as he watched from outside the ring.

Ludwig was struggling terribly against his semifinal opponent. Originally, this formidable rival should have faced Erich, but now they were Ludwig's to fight.

'... In terms of speed, he's better than me.'

The opponent's swift blade left Ludwig with no chance to strike back. Forced all the way to the cage's edge, Ludwig could only desperately defend himself.

If the brackets had gone as originally planned and Erich faced that guy? He could win, but...

'If I fought without using aura, I'd tire myself out.'

But now Erich realized that the opponent facing Ludwig looked quite flustered.

That was because Ludwig's subtly blue-tinged armor could not be breached by any blade.

In a flash, the opponent changed the trajectory of his sword, thrusting it between the joints of Ludwig's armor. With normal armor, the chain connecting the plates would have snapped, letting the blade pierce the body.

― Kagagagak!

But unbelievably, the thin chain connecting the armor plates deflected the opponent's sword.

Immediately after, Ludwig's opponent put some distance between them and caught his breath.

'Looks like the grand duchess picked up a fine item from somewhere.'

Ludwig's armor was exceptionally durable. Judging by Ludwig's agility while wearing it, it must also be exceedingly light.

That meant the armor was certainly one of the few treasures in the Empire.

Now the opponent had no options left. Piercing the armor was out of the question, and cutting the chain was impossible. The only way left was to thrust the sword through the visor slit.

But Erich sensed something strange coming from Ludwig.

'Ludwig... For some reason, he doesn't seem to be aiming for his opponent.'

Ludwig had always liked to show off. Yet for someone like that to be wielding such a plain, undecorated sword—why?

At that moment, the opponent closed the distance. His sword arced rapidly toward Ludwig's helmet.

But—

― Jjangang!

Ludwig's sword shattered the opponent's blade like glass. Then it drove into his opponent's chest.

"Urk!"

As Ludwig's opponent collapsed, Erich's gaze turned to the grand duchess.

'She's even directing Ludwig's tactics.'

Since Ludwig was the legitimate son of Krupp, his swordsmanship wasn't entirely unworthy. But it wasn't enough to win in a tournament like this, either.

That's why Ludwig brought an unfamiliar sword and adopted a strategy of weapon clashes to break his opponent's blade. It was a plan you could only attempt if you had absolute trust in your weapon.

But seeing Ludwig's dumbfounded expression, Erich was sure the strategy came from the grand duchess.

"The victor is Ludwig von Krupp! The marquis's son advances to the finals!"

"Waaaah!"

"Krupp for the win!"

The crowd roared. From the audience's perspective, perhaps Ludwig looked like he'd used some mighty sword technique rather than simply winning because of his equipment.

Leaving the arena, Ludwig glared at Erich standing on the sidelines.

"... You cowardly half-breed. What are you staring at?"

"Cowardly, you say?"

Hearing 'brother', Ludwig's face twisted into a grotesque sneer.

"You think I wouldn't know you tampered with the bracket? Using such cowardly tricks...."

"Was it cowardly that I was supposed to fight those men? That's odd. I almost ended up experiencing some cowardly tricks myself, you know?"

Ludwig could say nothing. Technically, it was his side that manipulated the bracket first. He knew that well. After a moment of silence, he grumbled,

"Either way, you'll lose in the next match. You might even lose your head. Let's see if you can act so smug without it."

Ludwig slowly walked past Erich, but as he neared, Erich spoke softly,

"That armor is not invincible, brother. And don't put too much faith in poison, either. Remember that."

Ludwig whipped his head around to glare at Erich, but Erich had already turned and was walking away.

Poison.

Erich already knows about the poison? And yet, to act with such confidence? Ludwig's eyes narrowed, and an inexplicable unease crept over him.

***

Only a candle illuminated the otherwise dark room. Milon sat in a chair, absentmindedly staring at the table.

After Ludwig's semifinal match ended. On the eve of his showdown with Erich, Milon's face was anything but bright.

"... Poison, eh."

Two bottles sat on the table. One contained a suspicious purple liquid which Erich had sought. The other was a small phial filled with a cloudy liquid.

The poison that killed his father—its ingredients were nothing but the fruit of a tree and the saliva of a beast.

They say there's a high plateau in the north where bears can't live. There, a tree grows whose fruit is lethal to any bear that eats it.

And the two bottles before Milon each contained the juice of that fruit and the saliva of a bear.

Though not a deadly toxin alone, when combined, even the sturdiest man would become as frail as a delicate woman.

'But it's meaningless now, even if I know. Given I haven't been told anything, chances are one of the two's already been used.'

Milon could even guess how the grand duchess planned to administer the remaining dose.

Slowly, blood dripped from Milon's clenched hands as they rested on his lap. The one who revealed all had just been slain with Milon's sword.

That servant had worked under the grand duchess a long time—and was also involved in Milon's father's death.

'... He was just following orders.'

But was this really the right thing? Milon didn't know. The one who gave the order, the grand duchess herself, was still alive and well, plotting another victim.

Milon's gaze drifted toward the window. Beyond it, his awarded fief could be seen in a glance. He had something he needed to protect, no matter what injustice he'd suffered.

― Tsk.

Milon slowly picked up the sword lying on the table. Without emotion, he wiped the blood from the blade with a cloth. Outside, the sun was slowly rising.

-------------= Clacky's Corner -------------=
【ദ്ദി(⩌ᴗ⩌)】