Chapter 161

Eisen left his will to Lucian and Felicia, and two days later Eisen passed away.

Given his advanced age and the obvious deterioration of his health for quite some time, it was something that had long been anticipated.

Even so, the sense of loss and the impact of the disappearance of a giant who had defined an entire era were enormous.

The vassals who had dealt with Eisen were also unable to hide their sorrow, and Felicia went as far as spending three days without tasting food or water.

Lucian withdrew from affairs of state for an entire day to mourn the death of his former master and, afterward, summoned the administrators of the White Castle to give orders.

“A great Swordmaster has been welcomed into the bosom of the Eight Gods. As his disciple, I wish to hold a solemn funeral.”

There was no one who objected. Even the treasurer, despite knowing that enormous sums would be spent, did not open his mouth. Eisen, the Swordmaster, had more than enough merit to receive such treatment.

Moreover, the title of Swordmaster was the object of admiration and longing for all knights.

Who would dare propose reducing the scale of the funeral by citing budgetary problems?

Even if the duke were to forgive it, the other knights would most likely tear that person apart with their own hands.

“The Swordmaster left behind countless exploits in life, so for some time there will be no shortage of visitors coming to pay their respects. Pay the utmost attention to food and lodging. There must be no shortcomings in the treatment of the guests.”

“Yes, Your Excellency.”

“If the budget proves insufficient, inform me at any time. I will pay even out of my own pocket. And even if unforeseen additional expenses arise, I will not blame anyone for it, so be at ease.”

“We are grateful for Your Excellency’s benevolence!”

The treasurer, who had been breaking out in a cold sweat, bowed deeply with a brightened expression.

Considering the fame of the Swordmaster, it was obvious that merely attending to the mourners would consume an enormous amount of resources.

In the worst case, they might even cut off his head on accusations of embezzlement of the budget.

Lucian had anticipated that concern and reassured him in advance, something that deeply moved the treasurer due to its meticulous consideration.

“Furthermore, I wish to offer at Sir Eisen’s grave a sword forged from fairy metal. It is said that fairies can cross the boundary between this world and the next, and that fairy metal was created by them. With this, I hope that our respect for him will reach the other world as well.”

“That… the meaning is truly admirable, but…”

“I know well that there are no blacksmiths in Asagrim capable of working fairy metal. That is why I will organize a competition to find someone who can refine it. If even one manages to complete a decent sword, I will personally praise them and grant a generous reward.”

Of course, the legend of fairy metal was nothing more than a pretext.

The true objective was to find a blacksmith capable of working one of the ancient ingots that were part of the legacy of the old northern kingdom.

Whether through techniques passed down from generation to generation or thanks to their own instinct, for Lucian either option was favorable.

In the former case, he would save the effort of rediscovering forging methods; in the latter, it would mean having found a genius comparable to Ian.

Suddenly, Lucian realized what he was thinking and drew a bitter smile.

‘It looks like I’m using Sir Eisen’s death.’

Eisen had helped Lucian in countless ways during his life, and now Lucian was using his funeral as a stage to attract the talent he needed.

Although he felt a certain bitterness upon realizing this, he composed himself.

Eisen had always valued practicality many times more than ostentation.

Even in the afterlife, he would be someone who would care more about whether his funeral helped others than about how grand it had been.

And, moreover, in the end he had even left words encouraging Lucian’s ambition.

‘I’m sorry, but since you’ve departed to the heavens, please allow me to benefit a little. You supported me so much that I don’t think you’d reproach me for something so minor, right?’

Staring into the void, Lucian murmured that brazen thought to himself.

There was no response, of course, but from somewhere far away a gentle breeze blew.

The sound of the wind resembled very closely the simple, frank laughter of someone he had heard many times in the past.

***

The death of Swordmaster Eisen caused an enormous impact on public opinion, but it also brought with it an unexpected positive effect.

Security, which had deteriorated severely, stabilized notably, even if only temporarily.

This was all because the knights, immersed in mourning, declared that they would tolerate no disturbances during the funeral period.

— The great Swordmaster has been welcomed into the bosom of the Eight Gods. While we mourn him, we will forgive no one who causes trouble in pursuit of petty gains.

Seen one way, it was nothing more than an outpouring of frustration from knights whose nerves were on edge after the death of their idol.

But it was not one or two of them, but all the knights of the Empire.

When that happened, the story changed completely.

In any region, it was enough for a thief to appear for them to end up torn apart by enraged knights, so any bandit with a bit of sense had no choice but to hide.

The same happened to the territorial lords. While the entire Empire mourned the Swordmaster, who would dare to stir up trouble alone to gain an advantage?

Not only would they instantly lose all the reputation they had accumulated, but no talent would ever want to place themselves under their command.

— Until the Swordmaster’s funeral ends, a truce!

That tacit agreement spread naturally among all factions, and the Empire, albeit only for a brief interval, regained its former peace.

Thanks to this, those who benefited the most were the numerous mourners and blacksmiths heading to Asagrim.

With bandits gone and war halted, the roads became safe.

Thus, even people who under other circumstances would have suffered mishaps during the journey managed to arrive in Asagrim safe and sound.

Malcolm and his son, who had just crossed the city gates, were among those fortunate ones.

“At last, we’ve arrived.”

Malcolm murmured in a voice laden with fatigue.

Normally he tried not to show weakness, but for an aging body, such a long journey was no small matter.

Fortunately, his son, still young, could support his father while at the same time calmly observing the situation.

“Father, let’s look for an inn first. From what I can see, if we let our guard down, we’ll end up sleeping in a makeshift tent.”

“You’re right.”

Both recalled the scene they had seen upon entering the city gates—tents erected as temporary lodgings to accommodate the flood of visitors and roads opened to transport supplies.

Since there was still quite a bit of free space, it seemed that these were preparations for those who would arrive later.

However, considering the Swordmaster’s fame, even at that moment the number of visitors must have been growing at an alarming pace.

If they relaxed just because they had arrived early, a difference of only a few hours would be enough to end up sleeping in a tent instead of an inn.

“The problem is the money. What we have left is just barely enough.”

Malcolm said with a furrowed brow.

“Huh? Isn’t it enough?”

“It would be if prices were the usual ones.”

“Ah…”

His son finally realized. Where many people gather, supplies become scarce and prices rise.

And in a time with such a concentration of people, inflation was inevitable.

“If we’re not careful, we might get a room but be kicked out halfway through our stay for not being able to pay.”

“But you can’t sleep in a poorly prepared tent. You’re about to try to put into practice techniques you’ve only seen in books, and if on top of that your physical condition worsens…”

Malcolm fell silent with a stiff expression.

Just as his son said, the forging methods he intended to try were ones he only knew from texts.

To reduce the chances of failure, he needed to be in the best possible condition.

‘If I add an uncomfortable night to this old, tired body, will I be able to perform on the day of forging?’

A sigh escaped his lips. He had arrived in Asagrim, but now he had to worry about where to sleep.

At that moment, a familiar voice reached Malcolm’s ears.

“If money is the problem, how about sharing a room with us?”

“…!”

Father and son turned in surprise toward the source of the voice.

There was Vincent, the knight who had previously saved them from the bandits.

Vincent shrugged with a smile.

“Good to see you. Was the journey peaceful?”

***

“Huff, we’ve been saved. To be honest, our budget was tight as well, and we barely managed to secure a room for three people.”

Vincent said with a relieved expression after making the reservation together with Malcolm and his son.

Vincent’s group consisted of four people, but single and double rooms were too expensive, and triple rooms did not work out well.

Just then Malcolm arrived with his son, which allowed them to take two triple rooms and split the costs.

“We almost ended up with four men in a single triple room. Thanks to you, we were spared that ordeal.”

“I’m glad to have been of help.”

Malcolm replied, though he could not help feeling uncomfortable.

No matter how much of a wanderer that knight was, sharing lodging with someone of noble rank was unpleasant for a commoner like him.

‘But if I reject his goodwill, I might offend him, and besides, I’ve finally found a place to rest my body. There’s no alternative.’

Resigned, Malcolm decided to look at it from the bright side, and a doubt soon arose in his mind.

“Now that I think about it, how did you arrive before us? Did you intend to come to Asagrim from the beginning?”

“No, not at all. I hurried here after hearing the news of Sir Eisen’s death. I simply had a horse, so I arrived before you.”

“A warhorse?”

His son asked with eyes opened wide.

Warhorses were so expensive that it was difficult for a knight from an insignificant family to own one.

And that wandering knight, who from their first meeting had said he had no money, turned out to have one.

“I think you’re mistaken. Not all knights with warhorses are wealthy, and we least of all. In fact, we’re considering selling them because we can’t afford the upkeep.”

Vincent replied sincerely.

It was not a horse he had owned from the beginning, but one he had received for a mission and fled with as it was.

Moreover, he had left all his money behind and only took the horses, so the upkeep was unsustainable.

They barely had enough to eat, and on top of that they had to feed the horses; for the former members of the Black Lions, it was a desperate situation.

Even so, they could not sell them because of Jordi and the chaos of the world.

Whether to flee from pursuers sent by him or from a band of bandits, they needed at least some means of escape.

‘But this is already the limit. If we don’t manage to enter the duke’s service, I’ll have to sell them and trade them for ponies, or simply go on foot. At this rate, we really will end up starving to death.’

If they sold the four warhorses, they would obtain a considerable sum with which they could survive for a while.

Even so, that would not change the fact that the future remained uncertain.

“By the way, what brings you here? At first glance, you look like blacksmiths. Did you come to see the fairy metal?”

“That’s right. If we’re talking about a legendary metal, for a blacksmith it’s a treasure that must be seen at least once.”

“No matter how valuable it is, if it can’t be refined, it’s nothing more than a simple rock.”

“Turning a rock into a true treasure is the stubbornness of a craftsman. Famous swords are born after countless failures.”

“Oh.”

Vincent’s eyes shone.

Not because he had been moved by Malcolm’s craftsman spirit, but because he had seen how the son, who was behind him, shuddered slightly at his words.