A Mercenary’s Rebirth Among Nobles

Malcolm swept his gaze over the blacksmiths advancing alongside him and murmured to himself.

‘They all look so confident and full of assurance. There isn’t even a trace of fear or doubt on their faces.’

Surely it was because, in addition to pride in their skills, each of them had their own theory about the metal.

And in fact, those theories had probably worked to some extent, and the people around them had praised them as competent blacksmiths.

Otherwise, they would not be able to appear so convinced of their success.

After all, simply by observing a person’s usual demeanor, one can infer, even if only roughly, what kind of life they have led.

In the blacksmiths, that air typical of those who had advanced along a path of success without knowing much frustration was clearly visible.

‘How ironic… Among everyone here, I’m the only one with slumped shoulders.’

A bitter smile formed on Malcolm’s lips.

It was absurd that he, who knew the secret of fae metal, acted more cautiously than those blacksmiths who relied only on theories assembled to suit themselves.

It was undoubtedly the result of having endured countless hardships over many years, which had turned caution into a habit ingrained in his body.

‘Before, I wouldn’t have cared at all about others’ gazes, but now it’s different. From the moment His Highness appointed me Master of the Furnace, a position that is more than I deserve, I must display dignity befitting it.’

If he did not demonstrate the ability and authority appropriate to the position of Master of the Furnace, people would eventually begin to doubt Lucian’s judgment.

For the sake of Lucian, who had placed his trust in him, Malcolm had to abandon that timid attitude.

He straightened his shoulders with determination and took his place before the forge alongside the other five contenders.

Then he recalled the orders he had received beforehand.

— You will participate in this competition as one of the contenders. Of course, your position as Master of the Furnace will remain, so don’t worry too much.

— Does that mean I must prove to the others that I have what it takes to be Master of the Furnace?

— Rather, I want you to serve as an example before everyone. You will show the process of creating fae metal step by step, in full detail.

— What? If I show the entire refining process, won’t everyone try to imitate me?

Lucian’s original goal with this competition had been to select a blacksmith capable of refining fae metal. But if the process were shown openly, how could one distinguish between a true genius and someone who merely knew how to copy?

At Malcolm’s doubt, Lucian shook his head.

— From the moment you arrived, my objective was already fulfilled. What I need now are people capable of absorbing your teachings quickly.

— My teachings…?

— In addition to your duties as Master of the Furnace, I plan for you to be in charge of instructing blacksmiths in the techniques for refining ancient metals.

— Ah!

At that moment, Malcolm understood Lucian’s plan.

Before, the goal had been to find a brilliant blacksmith as an alternative solution, since no one knew the techniques for refining ancient metals.

But the situation had changed when Malcolm brought with him the book containing the refining method.

If one had the method, it was far better to secure several outstanding talents than to rely on a single genius.

— This is an era in which we must manufacture large quantities of weapons and armor to equip soldiers immediately. We have to make the most of what we have. There is no time to calmly support the research of a single genius.

— You are absolutely right. This old man asked a foolish question.

— If you understood what I said, then you also know what you must do from now on.

— Set an example, observe the work of the others, and select the blacksmiths who quickly grasp my teachings and can apply them immediately.

— Exactly.

“The competition will begin shortly, so blacksmiths, prepare for refining!”

At the knight’s shout, Malcolm and the other contenders took their positions before the forges.

Soon after, the sound of the whistle announcing the start of the competition rang through the air, and the blacksmiths began to move.

***

Those who volunteered to attempt the first challenge alongside Malcolm were brimming with confidence.

How many years had they worked metal? How many pieces had they bent and shaped with these hands?

No matter how ancient or legendary it might be, as long as it was still metal, the method should not differ all that much.

But that confidence collapsed in a matter of moments.

“W-why?! Why the hell isn’t it working?!”

“According to my theory, a change should have occurred by now…!”

“It won’t even crack! It doesn’t move at all!”

If the refining had failed and resulted in a disastrous piece, they would have felt shame, but not despair.

At least they would have tried to create something with their own method and failed in the process.

The problem was not the failure itself, but that they could not even change the shape of the metal.

No matter how much they put it into the furnace and worked the bellows, it did not soften in the slightest, leaving them with no options.

Just as the contenders who had advanced with such confidence began to give up one after another, stopping their hands—

Fuaaaash.

“Huh…?”

“What is that?”

The eyes of the spectators, who had been watching Malcolm’s workshop attentively as if they had been expecting it all along, opened wide.

The other contenders also turned their heads belatedly and stared at the changing flames.

Despite the gazes converging on him from all directions, Malcolm did not blink even once as he drew out the fae metal.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

“I-it’s changing! It’s changing shape!”

“By the gods… a legend right before my eyes…!”

Amid the commotion, the fae metal slowly began to change shape.

People watched with eyes bulging, determined not to miss a single movement of Malcolm’s work.

And soon, upon seeing a process that completely defied common sense, they were left gaping.

The hammering and assembly did not differ much from working ordinary metal, but the heating and tempering phases were extraordinarily strange.

With normal metal, that method would have caused it to shatter at any moment.

Yet Malcolm continued working without the slightest hesitation, as if that chaotic method were the most natural thing in the world.

Whoosh.

When he finished the final tempering, Malcolm drew out the sword blade. The final polishing and the hilt were still missing to complete a sword, but that was secondary.

In this competition, it was enough to refine the fae metal into a blade.

“It’s finished.”

“Hmm.”

The knight nodded silently and accepted the blade made of fae metal.

Since it was a task he had already performed before, it was clearly far more refined than the first sword he had forged.

When Malcolm handed over the blade and withdrew inward, the knight shouted to the other contenders.

“Do you yield?”

“W-wait a moment! This is too—!”

The word “unfair” nearly slipped from their throats. Unlike them, who had participated directly and had been unable to observe the process properly, those who had stayed behind as mere spectators had been able to see everything.

Thus, the only ones who benefited were those who had kept to the sidelines like cowards.

But it had been they themselves who, having the option to wait, volunteered as the first contenders.

Now they could not even open their mouths to make excuses, trapped in a feeling of despair.

Amid the heavy silence, the knight spoke again.

“I don’t know what problem you encountered, but if you wish, I will give you another chance. Try again at the end, after all the contenders have gone.”

“What? I-is that possible?”

“According to the rules, it shouldn’t be. But the duke has granted special permission. Only the first contenders will be allowed to retry.”

“……”

Upon hearing that order, which seemed to have been anticipated from the start, the blacksmiths understood the truth.

They had been nothing more than extras from the beginning.

That blacksmith who had managed to handle the fae metal had already been employed by the duke for some time.

***

Even after understanding the truth, the blacksmiths did not leave.

The fae metal had demonstrated from the very first attempt that its refining method was completely beyond common sense.

If they had tried to refine it using the methods they had originally conceived, they would only have proven a miserable failure.

Now, however, they had been able to observe from beginning to end the work of a blacksmith who knew the method.

Although the probability of success was still low, unlike before, they now at least had a basic framework.

‘So what if I’m not the first? Just striking the legendary metal is the greatest honor possible.’

‘Even if it’s from the lowest position, if I work here, I’ll be treated like a master in any other region afterward. I can’t let this opportunity pass.’

‘Honor or not, I don’t care whose orders I’m under. I want to forge a legendary weapon with my own hands at least once!’

Some sought honor, others power, and others simply wanted to satisfy their desire as blacksmiths while striking the fae metal.

Although they had observed the entire process, they had only seen it once, and without knowing the theory in detail.

As expected, most wasted the fae metal with clumsy work or failed to forge a decent sword.

Even so, among them there were those who succeeded, and naturally they became candidates to be Malcolm’s disciples.

During the days the competition lasted, Malcolm completed the fae-metal sword and presented it to Lucian.

“Your Highness, the sword is finished.”

“Good.”

Lucian swung the finished sword a couple of times and then handed it to Felicia.

She received the fae-metal sword, examined it briefly, and formed a faint smile.

“Not bad. It’s short, but it doesn’t vibrate, and the center of gravity is well balanced. You can fight with this without any problem.”

“Huh? Fight?”

At those unexpected words, Malcolm flinched and looked back and forth between Felicia and Lucian.

He believed this sword was only for the ritual in honor of the Swordmaster, not for actual combat.

“Your Highness, what I made is a ceremonial sword, not something to be used in combat.”

“But it seems perfectly usable. You underestimate your own skills too much.”

“Well, for an ordinary forge it would be more than sufficient, but…”

Malcolm hesitated, unsure where to begin explaining. Felicia was not just any mercenary, but the heir to the Swordmaster.

A knight of her level should wield a sword befitting her prestige.

Perhaps reading his thoughts, Felicia spoke.

“I understand what you’re thinking, but don’t worry. I’m not the type to be overly demanding about swords.”

“But this sword doesn’t suit you at all, Felicia. At the very least, it would have been better to forge it with a length suited to your height…”

“Do you think I’m a knight incapable of demonstrating my skill just because the sword has a different length?”

“N-no! Forgive this old man’s rudeness!”

“It’s a joke.”

Felicia, who had pretended to be angry, relaxed her expression upon seeing Malcolm so flustered.

Lucian, who had been watching the scene while holding back laughter, then turned his head.

“Brother, have you ever seen Felicia joke?”

“……”

“Of course not. It’s one of those rare sights that only I get to see.”

Despite Tristan’s silence, Lucian did not seem to mind in the slightest, as if he thought his brother’s feelings about it were irrelevant.

Just as Lucian was about to look away, Tristan, no longer able to hold back, opened his mouth.

“Your Highness, that’s enough. Start telling me what you want.”

“What do you mean by that’s enough?”

“Stop showing off the power of Asagrim to me.”

By that point, Tristan could already infer Lucian’s objective.

With the blacksmith competition, he had hinted at the future mass production of weapons, and with the upcoming fencing tournament he would display Felicia’s growth, making it clear that he had a Swordmaster under his command.

He did not know what other means Lucian would use, but it was obvious that afterward he would try to engrave in his mind the enormous gap that existed between them.

“You wouldn’t do all this without reason. Could it be that you’re planning to make such a great demand of me that you need to repeat these demonstrations?”

“Hahaha!”

Lucian burst into laughter at Tristan’s words.

It was not an evasive laugh, but a frank, affirming burst of laughter, which only made Tristan’s expression harden further.

With his patience exhausted, Tristan asked directly.

“Exactly how great is the demand you intend to impose on me?”