The next day, I dragged Belfray out of the house, into the city proper, refusing once again his insistent efforts at bringing a dozen guards with us. There was no need for a grand show, as this visit would be strictly academic in nature. I just needed some time to think, and I thought I might as well enjoy some food while at it.
Above us, the sun shone brightly as we left the carriage and began our stroll across the wide streets.
“I always like to fancy myself a good meal when I’m dealing with troubling circumstances,” Belfray said, walking primly beside me, a majestic figure of a butler whose gray beard seemed somewhat brighter and less… robust than usual. “Makes the brain tick a lot faster. Nutrition is an important topic.”
“I’ve watched you devour a mountain of a plate for breakfast. You never look anywhere near full,” I said, my mind still occupied with the possibilities. “How hard is it to actually keep The Undying satisfied when you’re a Celestial?”
Belfray cracked a smile, then pulled out a little bead from his golden ring, lowering it just enough for me to get a glimpse of it. It gleamed with violet lights.
“Liquefied internal energy,” he said, "Compressed and worked into bead portions. Especially useful when you do not, or cannot, spare the time to cook a real meal. It’s an old habit shared by military personnel, but I found that in simple traditions lay great wisdom. You never know when you’ll find yourself hard pressed by bad company.”
“Can I?” I muttered.
Belfray shook his head. “It would kill you, Young Master.”
“Of course it would.”
“Maybe I can have Mary prepare a bunch of Silver Grade ones for you. To warm you to the tradition, if nothing else.”
“Sure.” I nodded blankly. “Let’s do that.”
Buildings loomed parallel to each other as we wound through the sparsely crowded streets, around the high-class shops, and beside the eager-looking shopkeepers who, to their credit, pleaded only with their eyes and refrained from disturbing our peace.
After all, anyone who could afford to spend a fortune on clothes and dress in a fashionable style may ask for their heads for the briefest sign of bad manners. Hence why the shopkeepers in Sangdon’s inner city knew, with painful precision, not to mess with important-looking people.
“Life can get tough sometimes,” Belfray said after a while, breaking the short-lived silence. “I can see that is the case for you, lately. Is it the training? The hard task of being the Grand Marshall’s son? Or was it the Trial of the Wild? I myself lack the experience and thus can’t empathize with your feelings, yet I dealt with groups of children who’d undergone the tradition and suffered from its consequences. Not every wound bleeds. Feel free to tell me—“
“It’s nothing,” I lied, shaking my head.
“I swear on my soul that I shall keep everything you say between us,” Belfray said, his face twisting into a soldier’s dedication, one tight fist planted over his chest, by the heart. “You can trust me.”
“It’s just…” I muttered, but soon hesitated whether I should tell him or not.
“Pray tell, Young Master,” Belfray insisted, looking greatly distressed as though my troubles weighed twice as much on his mind.
“I’m just not sure whether I should make Beatrice a blood-sucking weapon, or have her sharpen her edge with each kill,” I said in the end, spilling some of my inner demons that had plagued my mind for some time. “It’s complicated, you know? Making her durable was my first choice, but that changed when Hardel gave me that sword. Now, I’m lost between the possibilities. How can anyone choose in this situation? How is it fair?”
“My apologies, but what—“
“Air is something I can work with ease. The question is, can wind alone be enough to hack through solid steel? I guess not. You’ve told me there is a great variety of traditions between nations about the fashion and nature of their armory choices. Take those Harpol Knights, for example. They wear golden plates from tip to toe. You can’t cut gold with a sword even if you further sharpen the edge with compressed air,” I said, and slowed when it occurred to me that Belfray had paused in his steps somewhere in mid-speech.
“Did I say something wrong?” I had to ask when the butler remained silent.
“N-No,” Belfray stammered. “Nothing wrong…”
“You agree, then,” I said, sighing out a long breath. “It’s just unrealistic to come up with a solution that’ll work all the time. I have to broaden the scope of the Runes, but then, too much soul energy can affect the sword’s integrity. Even with Corax dust, I can’t be sure whether Beatrice can handle the pressure or not.”
“Corax dust?” Belfray said with a frown. “I’m sorry, Young Master, and I’m sure I’ve heard it wrong, but did you say Corax dust? You can’t possibly have some, can you?”
“I have a sack,” I said, gesturing with my hands the approximate size of it. “It’s not big, and the Corax in question whose bones were ground was just a Golden Rank creature. At least Hardel told me that much.”
“He gave you Corax dust?” Belfray blinked. “For what?”
“What do you mean? To inscribe Runes on Beatrice, of course!” I said with a pat to the sheath hanging from my belt.
Belfray’s eyes studied the sword for a long second, then he dragged himself wearily across the stretch, came near me, and placed a gentle hand on my shoulder.
“And did our blacksmith bother to tell you where he got the dust from?” he asked with his face creasing and his lower lip trembling oddly in a way that made his gray beard dance a little. “Surely that damned elf must’ve given you a clear account as to how he got his hands on such a prized possession?”
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“No,” I said, looking up at his face. “He didn’t. He just pulled out a sack and gave me the task. There was no mention of the Corax dust’s origins or such.”
“I understand,” Belfray said, forcing out a smile, trying as much as he could to look like he was well in control of the situation while his neck muscles told otherwise. If I hadn’t been sure of his anger at that exact moment, then his suddenly tightening a fist and making his fingers crack certainly dissolved any possible doubts I might’ve carried.
As to why he would get angry for a sack of Corax dust… Well, couldn’t hurt to ask, right?
“Is something wrong?” I said, patting him gently on the right arm. “You don’t look… well.”
“It’s nothing.” Belfray’s forced smile widened further across his mouth, which made it look like a sinister expression managed by someone of demonic origin. Those people weren’t much different than humans in general, but they had a way to display emotions with a certain zest. “I just don’t appreciate it when people think they can just take anything from a shelf without bothering to ask the reason why they were placed there in the first place. What are we, barbarians? Primal beings out trying to survive a catastrophe, even going as far as to steal things that were meant to be presents for distinguished people?“
“Hey, stop!” I flinched back as an air of weight began spreading from Belfray’s person, like an invisible wave of lead that settled crushingly down my shoulder. The few people around us scampered away in cold fear when the door of a leather shop cracked loudly and splintered into pieces. “I said stop, Belfray! People are looking at us!”
It took a heavy second, but Belfray finally seemed to decide to stop suffocating people with his sheer presence and returned to his old, amicable self. He didn’t look mildly ashamed, though, as if his earlier response was greatly justified for some reason.
“Never in my life had I allowed such indecency in my platoon. It seems I’ve grown too soft, too forgiving and too tame a general that little men dare to play little tricks on me.” He cracked his neck and gave a look over to the broken door of the shop, shrugged it off, and turned with his eyes glinting. “This matter’s ought to be solved with blood.”
“What matter?” I had to ask.
“That Golden Corax was one of the creatures I’d personally slain when my Lady told me of her pregnancy,” Belfray said, his voice heavy. “I ground its bones to dust with my bare hands, then placed the sack neatly with the other materials in my personal room. That bastard must’ve broken in and taken it without giving me an earlier notice. Elves are greedy people, Young Master. Give them a hand, then they’d demand the whole arm without any shame.”
“Really?”
“Yes. They are a terrible folk with bad tendencies.”
“No, I mean… Are there really other creatures? Other presents?” I said, my heart thumping in my chest. “Did you really go that far to prepare them for me?”
“There are about a hundred in total. Enough to last through your first century. It was nothing,” Belfray said with a straight face, but his cheeks reddened. “We should move. I’d like to suggest a seafood restaurant by the First Gate. They have quite the menu.”
“I—“
“This way, Young Master,” Belfray said, and dragged me by the arm before I could say anything.
……….
Past meal time, the weather was soft and warm as we made our way back to the mansion. Clouds fluttered gently across the distance, scattered about in cotton-like patches. The sun was a burning crimson slowly drawing back from its duty.
The trip to the inner city had been fruitful, if a little hectic. Belfray’s momentary display of his Celestial strength drew many eyes, but ultimately, our high-class status as rich adventurers was enough to keep things from spiraling. There wasn’t even a warning or anything as such. We kept to our schedule as though nothing had happened.
That small act gave me a few ideas, though.
Why focus on the sword, at all?
Why not consider all the angles?
The sword Hardel gave me had a great Rune. There was no doubt about it. It was a prized treasure for any Knight out in the Planar System who couldn’t enjoy the privileges of owning a Practical Rune. Not only could it feed on the opponents’ soul energy, but it could also suck the internal energy mixed into the blood and utilize its power to boost the sword’s capabilities.
The downside was that it relied on a constant supply of soul energy from the opponent, meaning that so long as the other party remained afoot and refused to die, the Practical Rune would eventually run out. It was for this reason that this particular weapon was more suitable for crowded battles where there were enough prey to go about.
Against a singular, powerful enemy, it would only work with mild efficiency.
It also didn’t do anything to incapacitate an opponent during a fight. I didn’t like that. I wanted Beatrice to not only grow strong, but have an edge that could change the tides of a battle if needed. I wanted her to catch my enemies unaware. Surprise them when they least expected to actually give me an opening to finish the deed.
I liked Belfray’s invisible aura-like pressure show-off where he blasted a shop’s door with ease. Granted, I couldn’t have Beatrice perform a trick of that magnitude, but I thought I could manage a lesser version that could easily disturb an opponent’s rhythm. To see if it would be viable or not… I might have to do a couple of experiments.
Good thing Hardel gave me a week. I had plenty of time to go for a trial-and-error approach.
The carriage slowed down as the humongous gates of our mansion groaned loudly open and allowed us inside. Some tension still remained on Belfray’s face, but the butler seemed fine otherwise. I didn’t like the fact that all my teachers were somehow at odds with each other, yet they worked under the same flag without making a big fuss, which showed how great a grip my mother had on her people.
That was the single most thing I envied about her.
Inside, the place was more crowded than usual, the maids shuffling hastily on and about, carrying great trays of food into the grand hall. There was an air of rush, a sense of excitement that I found strange. Looking up at Belfray, he didn’t seem to carry any strong feelings toward this sudden change, which meant he knew about this.
“Belfray?” I probed him with a question. “It seems like we have a guest?”
Before he could say anything, a familiar figure walked out of the grand hall, carrying his usual smile that bordered on a sneer that looked down upon anything in existence. His smile widened when his eyes spotted us.
“Just in time for a treat,” Radek said, glancing briefly at Belfray, seemingly not interested in addressing the butler before he turned toward me. “We have the Crack and the Hammer. Tell me, Young Master, which one would you like to meet first?”
“What?” I blanked for a second. “Are those real names, or just…”
“Crack’s the name of our Dimensional Mage, Payem,” Belfray said with a hearty sigh. “And the Hammer’s Marcus, Young Master. I believe you’ve been informed about his presence back when you first set foot upon this world.”
“Oh, the guy who’s been carrying out a super secret operation in the kingdom?” I muttered. I knew about Marcus. There was not a single soul in this mansion who didn’t know of him. Never saw him myself, though. “He’s here? I thought his involvement was supposed to be kept under—“
“There could only be one explanation for his presence,” Belfray said.
“It’s a good one,” Radek said, and winked at me. “It seems the winds of summer have brought along with them the tides of change. About time, indeed.”
“He’s early,” Belfray chimed in. “I thought we were supposed to wait another week.”
“There has been a recent discovery, I was told, that can slightly alter the amount of force we might have to employ to ensure the smoothness of this grand undertaking.”
“What is it?” Belfray asked.
Radek leaned down and tapped me on the shoulder. “Why don’t you come in and hear for yourselves? I daresay Young Master’s going to like it.”
…..
