Chapter 34. Cleaning up and heading to Saint-Denis.

Kwaang!

A part of the church ceiling exploded.

“Huh? What was that?”

Bethel, who had raised his head at the sound of the explosion, saw a huge pillar of light. The pillar had shot up from inside the church.

“Y-Your Highness?”

Bethel grabbed his weapon and was about to enter the church where Maxim was.

‘Uh… is it okay to go in?’

Bethel, holding the handle of the church entrance, couldn’t help but hesitate. It was because of what Maxim had said, ‘Don’t come in even if you hear strange noises.’

‘What if I go in for nothing and just get an earful?’

The worries he had for Maxim quickly melted away. Then, the eccentric acts Maxim had shown until now rose like smoke and filled Bethel’s mind.

Bethel slowly let out a breath and let go of the door handle he was holding.

“Your Highness, you’re all right, aren’t you?”

And he asked about Maxim’s safety in a voice as small as a mouse’s squeak. Naturally, there was no reply.

“They say no news is good news. So I’ll assume you’re all right.”

Kkiiik.

Just as Bethel was about to turn around, the church door opened. In front of it stood Maxim with an incredulous expression on his face.

“Good news, my ass.”

“Your Highness?”

“If you’re going to ask, speak up. What are you so scared of that you’re whispering?”

“No, it’s not that… But what happened to your clothes?”

At Bethel’s question, Maxim looked down at his own body. His shirt was all torn and tattered, and his pants were ripped in places as if something had chewed on them.

“Right, what did happen?”

“What? If Your Highness doesn’t know, then who……?”

Before Bethel could finish his sentence, Maxim shook his head and held out his hand. Bethel blinked. He couldn’t understand what Maxim was saying.

“Give me your cloak, at least.”

“My cloak… it’ll be cold if I take this off…….”

“Yeah, I’m cold too. So be considerate of me, who’s at least a year younger.”

Bethel let out a long sigh as he looked at the brazen Maxim. Then he took off his cloak. He felt that if he refused Maxim’s request, he would experience a tremendous hellfire.

“But your wounds… where did they go?”

Just before handing the cloak to Maxim, Bethel, upon seeing his body, had to blink his eyes several times. In Bethel’s memory, Maxim, despite his age, was covered in scars. In addition, he had a whole host of wounds from the two battles with the Necromancer and the Devil Bear.

‘It’s a sign that I’m getting stronger.’

Bethel had once asked Maxim about his scars. That was the answer Maxim had given him at the time.

But now, all those scars were gone. It wasn’t just that they had disappeared. To Bethel, it felt like Maxim’s skin had cleared up and his muscles had become more defined.

“They went to a good place.”

Maxim said as he put on Bethel’s cloak.

“The wounds went to a good place… where would that be?”

“A very good place. So let’s go too.”

“What? Where to?”

“Where else. We have to go get my sword.”

Maxim gave a slight smile and started walking ahead.

Bethel stared blankly at Maxim.

‘What is he, really?’

He thought, as usual, that he had no idea what was going on in Maxim’s head. But unlike usual, he also thought that the person looked bigger.

“Y-Your Highness! Let’s go together!”

Bethel hurriedly followed after Maxim.

***

The flames in the furnace blazed, heating the steel to a bright red. The blacksmith who took it out began to forge it with skilled hands. As the regular sound of kkang, kkang, kkang continued, the blacksmith’s gaze deepened.

“How many times is he repeating that?”

Bethel, who had been watching the blacksmith with a dazed face, asked me.

Instead of answering with words, I looked at him pointedly. It was a silent message to maintain silence while the blacksmith was concentrating on his work.

“12 times.”

The blacksmith, who had put the forged chunk of steel into an oil tank, said.

“Why do you do it 12 times?”

Bethel couldn’t hold back his curiosity.

“To bestow holiness. Do you even know what this is being made of?”

The blacksmith asked as he took the chunk of steel out of the oil tank.

Bethel looked at the chunk of steel carefully. The chunk of steel, which vaguely had the shape of a sword, was emitting white smoke as the cold oil stole its heat.

“I do not know.”

“The horn of a Devil Bear. That’s why holiness is needed. Even if it’s boring, please be patient and watch.”

With the blacksmith’s words, a solemn noise arrived.

Seogeok, seogeok, seogeok.

The process of sharpening the sword’s blade was repeated. The black coating of the blunt object was peeled away, revealing the sharp, pale flesh underneath.

The moon set, and the time of darkness arrived. The wind blew fiercely, shaking the windows. The entrance to the blacksmith's forge also rattled, trembling as if someone had arrived. But the blacksmith showed no reaction. He just continued to grind the sword, sweating thick, hot beads of sweat.

“Light.”

The blacksmith, who had straightened his bent back, looked at me and Bethel and said. I immediately went to the window and threw open the clumsily drawn curtains. The sun was rising. The blacksmith took the sharply ground sword and went to the window where the sunlight reached. Then he placed the sword in a spot where the clear light pooled.

Chiiik.

With a sizzling sound, smoke rose, and the once-mottled surface of the sword became impeccably clear.

“The horn of a Devil Bear is a legendary material for a blacksmith like me.”

The blacksmith, who had been watching the sword, said to me. I looked at him.

“My master told me about it once. That’s how I know. It is an honor to be able to touch it, thanks to Your Highness.”

The blacksmith knelt before me.

“It’s nothing to be honored about. I just caught it because I had to.”

The blacksmith looked at me with an overwhelmed expression. This is good. I don’t have any money, and he got to handle an expensive material, so I should just call it even.

“But how did you know the purification method?”

Bethel, who had been watching the situation with curious eyes, asked. A wave of anxiety slowly crept over me.

“My master told me about it before, so I know.”

“Ah, oral tradition. It takes a lot of work.”

“Purifying the energy of evil is not an easy task. That is correct.”

“Then how much should I pay for that sword… Keok!”

I knew this bastard would do this.

I chopped Bethel’s neck with the side of my hand, stopping the sound he was making.

“Let’s continue what we were doing. Lest we invite bad luck.”

I said, ignoring Bethel who was choking and looking at me with eyes full of resentment.

The blacksmith kept his eyes glued to the sword, watching it get soaked in the light.

Time passed. The faint sun rose to its height and cast a clear light. Birds awakened by the sunlight chirped, and small animals ran around. A full morning had arrived.

“It is done.”

The sword, smaller than Brave Flame but larger than a normal longsword, shimmered with a clear purple light.

“The sword… has a peculiar shape, doesn’t it?”

Bethel asked with a dazed expression.

Instead of answering, the blacksmith held the sword with both hands and stood before me.

“It is Your Highness’s sword. Its name is Dawn.”

I looked at the blacksmith intently. It was a name that suited the color of the sword. But…….

“Is the shape to your taste?”

Like Brave Flame, it was so crude it looked brutish. As if it should only be used to slay dragons. Bethel, too, probably found it hard to say outright that it looked strangely brutish like Brave Flame, so he must have roundaboutly said it had a peculiar shape as if seeing it for the first time.

“Well, it may look like that now, but if you keep looking at it, it has a manly charm… once your eyes get used to it, there will be no other sword like it. Yes… probably. Ahem! Ahem!”

A craftsman’s aesthetic sense… is a complete mess. Still, the feel of Brave Flame wasn’t bad. For its size, it had good balance. Unlike its appearance, it was also quite sharp.

Let’s set aside the aesthetics and look only at the sword’s quality.

“Looking at it again, it seems okay. Then this is how mu… Keok!”

I chopped the neck of Bethel, who was spouting nonsense again.

“The money is fine. It is a reward for using Brave Flame, which was just gathering dust, properly.”

The blacksmith said that it was painful for him to see Brave Flame, which he considered his masterpiece, remain merely a decoration. He said he thought that no one would be able to use swordsmanship worthy of Brave Flame, that they would just swing it brutishly and then discard it.

“For Brave Flame to do its part on the battlefield. To cut the enemy’s throat and sleep in eternity, that is the sight I have wished for my entire life. And Your Highness has made that dream come true.”

He said he had watched me fight the Devil Bear without missing a single moment. So I smiled awkwardly. I was embarrassed because I had broken the sword, but it was awkward because he said it was fine regardless.

“It is superior to any other sword I have ever made. Therefore, please use it, Your Highness.

It is a sword solely for Your Highness.”

I took Dawn. It was lighter and sharper than Brave Flame. The balance was also good.

“I will use it well.”

It was a sword that was not easy to come by. I was lucky. Brave Flame was also sturdy, but since this was better, it seemed it could withstand the power of a considerably strong Saga.

‘Not yet, but I’ll soon be able to use a proper Saga.’

As I was examining the sword with satisfaction, Bethel made a ‘Ahem! Ahem!’ sound towards me.

“Aren’t you going to make my sword?”

“I was just about to ask. For the best one. Except for Dawn.”

“Ah! I prefer a stylish design. That one is a bit…….”

Bethel pointed at Dawn with a sour expression. That guy really has no tact. To make a remark that ignores the blacksmith’s aesthetic sense.

“I used all the Devil Bear’s horn to make Dawn, so there is no sword as good as that.”

The blacksmith replied with a blank expression. They say a single word can repay a thousand gold, but it seems even a thousand gold wouldn’t be enough for Bethel.

“I will make a request. Please give him one decent sword.”

“Since Your Highness asks, I will bring three or four stylish ones.”

The blacksmith snorted and went into the storage.

I clicked my tongue at Bethel and shook my head.

“Why? It’s better if it looks good, isn’t it? It’s not like I can receive a special sword like Your Highness.”

“If you were more tactful, you might have. Wouldn’t it be nice to have a good sword before heading to the north? What’s so important about looks?”

“Because I’m going to that dark and drab place, I should take something cool. That way, even if I’m ignored for being a deserter, I can endure it by thinking of my time with Your Highness…….”

Bethel wore a bitter expression. It seemed he was imagining what he would face when he went to the north. Well, no one would look kindly on a deserter. So perhaps he wanted to cherish the memory of his time here, where he was properly used as a person. With a fancy sword as a symbol of that memory.

“It will be nothing compared to what you’ve been through with me, so endure it well.”

“……Yes.”

He seemed to take it as words of comfort. It really would be nothing, though.

‘A Necromancer or a Devil Bear are no ordinary things.’

I clicked my tongue looking at Bethel.

“There are five. Take the one you like.”

Just in time, the blacksmith came with swords that Bethel could use.

Bethel looked back and forth between the swords laid out in front of him and the blacksmith.

It seemed that even though he had specifically used the word ‘stylish,’ the swords were all filled with designs that couldn’t escape the blacksmith’s aesthetic sense.

“Which one is the best?”

It seemed Bethel had given up too. Still, they looked less brutish than Dawn.

“The one in the middle.”

“I-I’ll take that one.”

The blacksmith smiled and handed the sword Bethel had chosen to him.

“It’s the best one among the remaining swords, so please handle it well.”

“Does it have a name?”

“Hamsik.”

“Hamsik? What does that mean?”

“It is my name.”

“……”

The blacksmith who answered burst out laughing. His sense of humor seemed a bit peculiar.

“I-I will use it well.”

Bethel swallowed his reluctance and offered his thanks. The blacksmith nodded and waved his hand, signaling that his work was now done and they should be on their way.

Like Bethel, I held my sword and said I would use it well before leaving the blacksmith's forge.

The light was dazzling. The sun had risen vigorously and was smiling brightly.

“Let’s go, to Saint-Denis.”

To the military academy where the hostages who will entrust their future to me. No, where the talented individuals will be.