Chapter 67

“There’s a fair distance to the forge where Fergus is staying. I’ll call a carriage in advance,” Marco offered.

Odelliana, who had cleared her entire day to visit Fergus, gently shook her head. “That won’t be necessary. I’m planning to walk.”

Marco blinked, momentarily thrown. “But… it might be too much of a strain on your body.”

“I haven’t been getting much exercise lately,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact. “If I keep resting just because my leg’s uncomfortable, I’ll only feel heavier. I figured I might as well get some movement in while I’m out.”

Marco hesitated, clearly torn. “…The road is rough, so I am concerned—but if that’s your decision, I understand.”

It was true: since arriving, she hadn’t used any transportation. Instead, she’d commissioned specially made shoes to correct the difference in her leg lengths and ease her stride. Day by day, she’d practiced walking without dragging her injured leg, relying less and less on her cane. With effort, she’d learned to keep a strong, upright posture. Now, when her lower body was hidden beneath a long dress, her limp was barely noticeable.

Though she still struggled with hills and couldn’t run without help, the progress was undeniable.

“I’ll be back,” she said with a light nod, adjusting her hat before stepping outside.

Just as the door closed behind her, Malena, who had been sitting near the entrance, stood up and fell into step beside her.

“Let’s go,” she said casually.

Odelliana paused, turning her head. “Why are you coming?”

“You were really planning to go out alone?”

“It’s just a short trip to the forge,” Odelliana replied.

“There are lots of steep paths here because of the elevation,” Malena pointed out, unbothered. “For safety, I’ll accompany you.”

Odelliana sighed but didn’t argue. “Fine. Do as you like.”

With that, the two women set off at a steady pace. The forge was about an hour away on foot, located near the training grounds used by the knights. Odelliana thought it would’ve been nice to catch a glimpse of Mathias in training, but he was likely elsewhere. These days, the knights were so busy they barely had time to breathe.

Though Odelliana had set out in good spirits, her physical limits became harder to ignore with each passing step. Her breaths grew shallower, her pace slower.

“Shall I give you a piggyback ride?” Malena asked lightly, glancing over with a raised brow.

“Absolutely not,” Odelliana replied curtly, wiping sweat from her brow.

“You look like you’re struggling.”

“This is part of my mental training,” she muttered, refusing to meet Malena’s gaze.

Because of her slower pace, the journey took nearly twice as long as expected. By the time they arrived in front of the forge, Odelliana was winded. Her chest rose and fell heavily as she caught her breath, her hair sticking messily to her damp face.

Malena clicked her tongue in disapproval. “Would it kill you to take it easy?” she said, dabbing Odelliana’s face with a dry towel. “There’s no shortage of attendants around. Why go out of your way to suffer like this? Just look at you. You’re soaked. What’ll you do if you catch a cold?”

Odelliana took the towel wordlessly, then replied, “I need to get used to hardship. There’s no guarantee my life will always be comfortable. What if a war breaks out? Do you think anyone will have time to look after me when they’re trying to save themselves?”

“I would take care of you,” Malena said simply.

“That’s exactly what I don’t want,” Odelliana said, her voice flat. “Who wants to be a burden?”

Malena frowned. “Why assume something that might never happen? Fleeing from war, seriously?”

“It’s already been a month since that uproar because of Vanagand,” Odelliana said, voice low. “The world doesn’t wait for anyone to be ready.”

She needed to be able to survive on her own, to protect herself if things ever turned dire. She hadn’t even started horseback riding or sword training yet, and with so much else on her plate, she couldn’t afford to let her body fall behind.

Straightening her back, she said, “Let’s go in.”

The forge, though smaller than she’d expected, was more than enough for Fergus and the three assistants he had brought with him. As she stepped inside, a wave of scorching heat washed over her. Sparks flared nearby, and the glow from the furnace cast flickering shadows across the walls.

A massive crucible roared with molten metal. The rhythmic clang of hammer against steel echoed through the space.

Unaware of the new arrival, Fergus stood at the center, hammering with relentless focus. His brow was furrowed, sweat dripping from his temples. Nearby, his assistants moved with practiced coordination, their clothes soaked through as they cooled the glowing metal. They wiped their faces with damp towels, panting as if the heat had drained the breath from their lungs.

Odelliana waited patiently, wondering how long the sharp clanging of hammer on metal and the scraping hiss of iron against the anvil would continue.

To her surprise, the wait wasn’t nearly as dull as she had expected. The vibrant energy of the young blacksmiths lost in their craft, the piercing metallic din echoing through the forge, and the acrid scent of smoke and scorched metal clinging to the air—all of it stirred a sense of nostalgia. It reminded her of a time she used to long for, back when she had dreamed of a life less sheltered.

She had been quietly observing for a while when Fergus, turning his head mid-swing, caught sight of her standing near the entrance.

He froze. His face drained of color.

“L-Lady Odelliana!” he stammered, eyes widening. “W-What brings you to this place?”

“I stopped by to see how you’re doing,” she replied calmly, unbothered by the soot or heat.

Fergus’s panic only intensified. “P-Please, let’s step inside… No, wait—outside, perhaps—”

He shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, his thoughts clearly scrambled.

Covered in iron dust, his shirt clinging to his sweat-drenched frame, he smelled of fire and molten metal. It felt entirely improper to greet someone as noble as the young lady of the house in such a state. And that wasn’t even the biggest problem.

The forge was too cramped to receive visitors, especially one of her standing. Even if there were space, the sweltering heat and smoke-laden air inside were unbearable for someone unaccustomed to them. The air was thick with soot and metal shavings—hardly good for the lungs, much less for delicate skin.

But outside, there wasn’t a better option either. He certainly couldn’t ask her to stand in front of the blazing furnace.

Fergus stood frozen, utterly helpless.

Behind him, the three apprentice boys paused their work, exchanging nervous glances and wide-eyed stares. None of them had expected a visitor, much less one of such high status.

Then, as if struck by lightning, Fergus suddenly remembered—Lady Odelliana had difficulty walking.

Without another word, he dashed off and returned moments later with a wooden chair. He set it down in front of her, only to realize with horror that it was covered in a fine layer of iron dust. His face went even paler.

Feeling almost sorry for him as he frantically searched for a clean towel, Odelliana lifted a hand to stop him.

“It’s fine,” she said gently. “I won’t be here long. I’m the one who showed up unannounced, so you don’t need to fuss.”

Fergus halted mid-step, towel in hand, still flustered. “…B-But still—”

She smiled faintly. “How have you been? Any troubles?”

Fergus straightened, doing his best to compose himself. “Thanks to you, Lady Odelliana, I’ve been doing very well,” he said earnestly. “Truly, each day feels like a blessing.”

Her gaze shifted toward the apprentices watching from behind the anvil. “And those kids—are they the same ones who worked with you at your previous forge?”

“Yes,” Fergus said with a nod, glancing back at them proudly. “I brought them with me.”

“I see.” She looked around at the glowing furnace, the tools, the scattered scrap metal. “Looks like you’re busy. I take it you haven’t been short on work?”

“There was a bit of downtime early on,” Fergus admitted, scratching the back of his neck, “but right now, I’d say every forge in Eisenwald is swamped. The influx of mercenaries and adventurers has been nonstop—repairs, custom orders, the works. And the lord’s been placing consistent commissions too. Honestly, weapon demand has surged so much, it’s overwhelming.”

He laughed wearily, sweat still glistening on his brow. His shoulders sagged from exhaustion, but the spark in his eyes betrayed his genuine joy.

“I hate to bother you when you’re so busy,” Odelliana said, her voice softening, “but since I’m here… may I ask you a favor?”

“Of course!” Fergus straightened again, alert. “Please, go ahead!”

“My knight will soon be officially appointed,” she said. “I’d like to give him a sword—as a gift.”

For a moment, Fergus’s eyes lit up as though he’d been waiting for her to say those exact words.

“I was just about to tell you,” he said with a wide grin. “Please wait here—just a moment.”

He hurried past the furnace and stepped outside, waving over the apprentices. The boys rushed to help, returning with a large wooden box that required all three of them to lift. With some effort, they set it down carefully in front of Odelliana and opened the lid.

“…This is…” she breathed, her eyes widening slightly.

Inside lay a black blade, its surface smooth and polished to a near mirror sheen. The metal gleamed under the forge’s glow, sharp and elegant—quietly powerful.