Chapter 217

Chapter 217
Chapter 217: Never Mind The Heir, I’ll Focus On Healing

“Ugh, my weary bones!”

Mudu reached Lion’s side, dropped his weight onto bent knees while bracing himself with both hands, and groaned before drumming against his own back and waist using his smithing hammer.

The fact that his spine didn’t snap under such brutal, heavy thumps was a marvel in its own right.

“Anyway, you were hunting for me earlier, what is it this time… wait?”

Mudu squinted, his brow furrowing as he studied the Marquis of Byedantis closely.

The refined features seemed vaguely stirring, yet placement eluded him.

“Hm, not quite.”

He scratched his head, then froze abruptly as a forgotten memory clawed its way to the surface.

“Oh? Oh!”

The recollection snapped into place.

It wasn’t the face of the young noble standing before him that triggered the memory, but the magnificent blade resting at her side!

Was that not the sacred sword of Byedantis?

The legendary weapon forged explicitly to crush fiends and shield humanity!

He didn’t even need to inspect the edge to know.

‘C-could this person actually be—?!’

Indeed. Seeing her stance now made everything click into focus.

The young lady of Byedantis he used to catch glimpses of during the grand festivals.

The very child who used to cower shyly behind the Marquis of Byedantis or clutch her mother’s hand with timid eyes…!

“Clarentia… Byedantis.”

“Good grief, Brother!”

The moment Mudu muttered the name aloud, Son lunged forward, clapping a hand firmly over Mudu’s mouth and shaking him by the shoulders.

“Mind your tongue! I’d rather keep breathing for a good long while, thank you very much!”

Son was equally shaken.

He had gathered they were unusual personages, but a reigning Marquis from a legendary swordsmanship lineage?!

“Correct.”

Clarentia offered just that single, quiet word of validation.

“Ahem, pardon me. Be that as it may, what brings a Marquis hailing from another domain all the way out here?”

“Well, now that the dust has settled somewhat, shall we step around back to wrap up our chat?”

Lion flashed a broad grin, gesturing toward the rear of the smithy.

“I happen to have a piece of news that will shock you.”

That tease left Mudu entirely bewildered.

True, he had once resided within the Byedantis territory, but he had never held any personal acquaintance with the sitting Marquis.

He merely recognized that distinct blade and remembered catching sight of the Marquis in her youth.

‘If that strange fellow calls it shocking, there’s no doubt it’s genuine.’

What on earth could it be?

Mudu ambled toward the back of the workshop, feeling a mix of skepticism and mounting curiosity.

And then…

“Wh-what?!”

His shout boomed out so forcefully that it reverberated past the smithy and echoed among the neighboring houses.

“Ow.”

Lion gently tapped his ringing ear, peering down at his palm as if checking for blood.

“You crazy bastard! Is that the honest truth?”

“It is.”

“F-for real?”

The Marquis of Byedantis offered a subtle nod of confirmation.

“I traveled alongside them in the capacity of a technician.”

“Wh-why?! If it were just my younger brother, I could wrap my head around it, but even my parents…!”

“It posed no hardship for me, and it presented a fine chance to earn his favor.”

“Ha-ha-ha. If you put it that way, Marquis, Mudu might get the wrong idea.”

“It is the simple truth.”

“…”

Lion opened his mouth to retort, then thought better of it and snapped it shut.

Mudu’s wide, bulging eyes were ringed in red, looking suspiciously like they were ready to overflow with tears.

“Dammit all, I should have gone to visit them sooner…! ”

Mudu dragged his forearm fiercely across his face, scrubbing away the emotion.

Lion politely turned a blind eye, giving Mudu the space to salvage his pride.

“Anyway, they arrive tomorrow, though I imagine we’ll need roughly a day to get everything in order.”

“Sniff, right. I ought to pick up some fresh meat before heading home tonight.”

“Negative.”

“Huh?”

Mudu wiped his face with the hem of his stained apron, blinking up at the flat denial.

“Now think about this, Mudu. When your family rolls in, they’re bound to spend a solid chunk of time right at your homestead, correct?”

“Th-that’s a given.”

“And you’ll get to lay eyes on your adorable grandchildren and daughter-in-law?”

“Naturally.”

“But wouldn’t they want to see you above all else?”

To witness just how much you’ve grown and prospered.

At Lion’s prompting, Mudu started to nod, then cut himself short.

Wait a second. That implied…

“They’re guaranteed to drop by your workshop as well.”

Lion cast a silent, meaningful glance down at Mudu’s work attire.

Even though Leah diligently laundered his inner garments with ferocious dedication every single day.

Mudu, being the devoted family man he was, habitually left his soot-stained apron right here at the forge, refusing to track any workshop grime back to his household.

So, what did that signify?

It meant Mudu’s daily apron was in an utterly wretched state.

Well, a mess like that might normally be brushed off with a hearty slap on the back between old friends.

The real complication, however… was that Mudu’s parents were dwarves.

Which made sense, seeing as Mudu was one himself.

Yet the catch was that within dwarf society, every single living soul was an artisan of some caliber.

Especially since they were traveling here specifically under the banner of ‘technicians.’

‘Surely he ought to put on some semblance of professional presentation?’

The pressure would undoubtedly be immense.

It had to feel something akin to an inspection by a division commander bearing down on Mudu.

“G-dammit! Exactly when do they touch down?”

“Tomorrow.”

“They’ll likely swing by the Asteri Mansion first, which should leave you free around evening.”

Mudu’s ruddy complexion drained to a sickly pale.

“Damn it all to hell! Anyway, thanks for tipping me off!”

“Oh, and one more thing.”

The Marquis’s voice arrested Mudu right as he turned to bolt off and whip the smithy into shape.

“I would appreciate it if you examined this alongside the technicians from Byedantis.”

The Marquis unhooked the sword at her hip, holding it out toward him.

“It performs admirably against fiends, but its edge falters against ordinary materials.”

Urgent as his personal crisis felt, Mudu found himself frozen solid the instant his hands closed around the sacred sword of Byedantis.

Gulp.

A dry swallow echoed in the quiet air.

“Can I inspect it right this second?”

Clarentia gave a slight nod, and Mudu carefully slid the legendary blade from its scabbard.

A low, thoughtful hum rumbled in his chest.

“Hm…”

Frankly speaking, considering it was the sacred treasure of the Byedantis lineage, its current maintenance state was deplorable.

At a glance, it looked no better than a common piece turned out by an amateur village smith.

It was a miracle the edge hadn’t chipped away entirely.

“When was the last time you had this blade sharpened?”

“Never.”

“…”

Mudu jammed a pinky finger deep into his ear canal as though he must have misheard, then repeated the question.

“Are you telling me you have never once entrusted this weapon to a smith?”

“That is correct.”

*Bang!*

Mudu brought the flat of his palm down hard against his own forehead.

If he hadn’t checked his strength at the last split second, he might have shouted something terribly impolite straight into the face of the Marquis of Byedantis.

“…”

Mudu dropped his gaze back to the holy sword.

He had figured it was a rather mediocre artifact at first glance, but it was now abundantly clear that the weapon had only survived this long purely on the merit of its divine provenance.

“Still…”

What drove them to haul it all the way out here instead of commissioning their own Byedantis Dwarf Settlement?

The Dwarf Village boasted no shortage of skilled artisans.

In fact, the vast majority of them specialized directly in weaponry.

Sharpening or restoring a blade was the sort of task they could execute blindfolded with one hand tied behind their backs.

‘…There has to be a specific reason behind this.’

Mudu hovered on the brink of voicing his curiosity, then swallowed the words.

“Tsk, fine. I understand. I’ll hold onto this and restore it jointly with the visiting technicians.”

“Please do.”

“Aye. You might be a Marquis, but you’re also a friend of that crazy bastard, so I’ll put some extra sweat into it.”

Mudu cradled the sword with extreme care, his short legs carrying him swiftly into the inner depths of the workshop.

A moment later, a booming shout rang out from within, followed by the clatter and thud of heavy equipment being furiously rearranged en masse.

‘A friend.’

The corners of the Marquis of Byedantis’s mouth twitched upward into the faintest ghost of a smile before settling back into stillness.

“I suppose touring the interior of the smithy will have to wait for another day.”

“Ha-ha-ha. Fair enough. Well then, since you’ve gotten a proper look at most of the village, shall I escort you back to the mansion now?”

“No need. The butler will likely fret over my absence, so I must head back. I shall see you for our formal greeting tomorrow.”

“Is that so?”

Ordinarily, letting a guest depart once they had arrived—regardless of the hour—was considered poor etiquette.

It invited petty whispers that visitors were being chased off.

Even so, Lion simply nodded along.

‘Fret.’

Anyone who had spent five minutes with that butler could tell he practically worshipped the Marquis of Byedantis, pouring an absurd level of devotion into her care.

Though, characteristically, the Marquis herself remained entirely oblivious to the depth of it at the time.

‘You’ve grown up so much.’

A swell of pride bloomed in his chest, as though he were watching his own kin mature.

How should he phrase it? If a younger sibling he hadn’t seen in ages suddenly blossomed into adulthood, would he feel this exact brand of warmth?

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

She dipped her head in a polite farewell, and in the span of a single breath, the Marquis vanished into thin air accompanied by a soft whisper of displaced wind.

“Welp, my chores for the day are done, so I might as well head back myself.”

Since he had managed to get his hands on some rather fascinating dyes, he intended to dive into testing them out before tomorrow rolled around.

Ah, but before that, he needed to drop a line to the Magic Tower.

Time to let them know their big spender had just checked out quite a hefty inventory.

—

The First Magic Tower, operating directly under the Asteri Duchy.

The technicians stationed across the floors were currently losing their minds in a chorus of groans.

-Y-you’re telling us all of these were ordered?

-No, it’s been an unbroken wave of requests since dawn! At this pace, we won’t even get a lunch break before we drop dead!

-What on earth has gone wrong with the world?

amid the collective meltdown born of crushing workloads, personnel secretly gossiping through their familiar links finally tracked down the root of the madness.

The true catalyst behind the sudden avalanche of commissions!

-Well, I heard a rumor yesterday from someone who took half a day off to run errands in town…

Word had it that the Marquis of Byedantis had placed a jaw-droppingly massive order directly through Young Master Lion!

“Hold on, isn’t Byedantis strictly a swordsmanship household?”

“That’s common knowledge.”

“Th-then why are they requisitioning so many magical instruments…? Don’t they practically despise magic over there? Is that why their territory struggles so much with upkeep?”

“Aethel Mage.”

Just as the junior mage muttered his confusion aloud, a senior mage working at the next desk shot him a sharp, warning look.

“Yes, sir. My apologies, Senior Lepios.”

“Let’s keep our focus on the formulas and leave the idle gossip to the tavern.”

“Understood…!”

The newcomer instantly zipped his lips and dove back into his calculations, while Lepios resumed manipulating his mana-ink quill.

-Mage Lepios is unusually fired up today.

-Can you blame him? Look at the sheer size of the performance bonus riding on this batch!

-It’s going to look incredible on his official advancement record, too.

Countless paper familiars shaped like folded birds darted back and forth through the air, carrying documents, but Lepios didn’t spare them a single glance.

‘This particular commission was brought to us by none other than Young Master Lion.’

Though none of his peers knew the whole story, Lepios privately held a profound debt of gratitude toward Young Master Lion.

The origin of that debt was remarkably simple.

Back when he was a greenhorn fresh to the tower, he had crossed paths with Lion by pure chance and ended up guiding him through a casual tour of the facilities.

At the time, he was struggling desperately to fit into the suffocating hierarchy of the Magic Tower, but that encounter completely changed his trajectory by introducing him to Grand Master Hoffman, the tower’s chief supervisor.

‘My ultimate idol…!’

Hoffman had remembered his name ever since, occasionally offering him words of recognition in the hallways!

That single connection served as the springboard that allowed him to anchor himself firmly within the tower’s ranks.

He liked to believe that his current standing—awkward as it still felt—and his promotion to a senior role were entirely gifts from that fateful day.

Naturally, he had poured every ounce of effort into his work since then to ensure he never tarnished the fortune handed to him.

Regardless.

‘Young Master. I have not forgotten what I owe you…!’

And thus, his singular goal was to craft items of absolute supreme quality—or perhaps push past those limits entirely.

An effort that would, in time, cement itself as one of the defining achievements of Lepios’s career as a rising team leader within the Magic Tower’s Magic Tool Department.

Though Lion… remained blissfully unaware of any of it!