Kays Translations

Chapter 94: Grave Marker of a Warrior

The incident of the princess's kidnapping had come to a close, and Lutz and the others returned to the Count's territory.

On this day, Lutz went to the riverside and swung an axe.

Let's call them thieves, just for the sake of it. The axe he swung was one he had picked up at the thieves' hideout. It was the hatchet used by Vice Captain Dross. Lutz had killed him by thrusting the axe into his throat and obtained it.

They were formidable enemies. One wrong step, and it would have been Lutz who fell. He was completely outmatched in terms of strength. He stood there now because he had won due to the compatibility of his weapon.

He had defeated bandits who attacked him countless times, but it was the first time he had initiated a battle and fought a real warrior, exchanging blows with his life on the line.

He didn't lose his will to fight even when his skull was grazed. He didn't flinch even when his fingers fell off as he grabbed the sword barehanded. Whenever he recalled it, a mixture of fear and admiration welled up within him.

He had become acquainted with the princess, and had become the Count's personal blacksmith. There would surely be many more troublesome situations to come. Saying that he, as a blacksmith, had nothing to do with it wouldn't work. Besides, trouble had a way of finding its way to you without being asked, like an annoying customer.

He needed his own custom-made sword to survive. He had been making excuses and putting it off until now, but he could no longer look away.

However, he couldn't solidify an image even when trying to forge a sword. He thought that by swinging the warrior's axe, he might grasp some hints, so he came to the riverside every day like this, but he still hadn't achieved enlightenment.

After swinging the axe for an hour, his whole body was covered in sweat. He took off his jacket, jumped into the river, and washed away the sweat. This was a pleasure he couldn't experience within the fortress city.

He invited the donkey, who was leisurely eating grass, to the riverside and washed it, then let it dry a bit before heading home. It was good exercise, but in the end, he still couldn't grasp the image of a new sword.

...What should he do?

Although there was no deadline, Lutz felt a sense of urgency for some reason.

When he returned home, Claudia had prepared a meal for him right away.

It was warm vegetable soup and bread. The bread was freshly baked white bread without any additives. Seeing this, he could feel that he had achieved a certain position.

Until recently, bread meant barley bread that hadn't been properly sifted and was hard as a rock.

While eating together, Claudia asked him, "Do you think you can make a new sword?"

"To be honest, I have no idea. Not being able to come up with ideas is a constant struggle for artists, you know?"

Distracted by his worries, he didn't focus on his meal and the bread he dipped in the soup became soggy. It seemed his habit of eating hard black bread hadn't completely disappeared yet.

"What about trying to swing the warrior's axe? Did you get any ideas?"

"How was it?"

"I got used to handling the axe."

Lutz showed a wry smile. That laughter still carried the colors of fatigue and impatience.

He had picked up hints from conversations with Claudia many times. He had hoped for the same this time, but it didn't work out so well.

"It's difficult to have a concrete image of what I want. It's a lie to say that I know myself better than anyone. There's no one more clueless than me."

"Then, why not try forging an axe without thinking too much?"

"Huh?"

"Maybe you can understand how the axe user feels."

Claudia said it as a joke and laughed as she cleared the dishes.

Although it was meant as a joke, Lutz began to seriously consider it.

That axe wasn't a mass-produced ironware, it was forged. In other words, it was made by striking and tempering the iron. However, it didn't seem to have been made by a skilled blacksmith.

...What kind of axe would be suitable for a hero?

As he pondered, his interest was piqued.

He had made axes a few times before, but they were cheap ones requested by Claudia during her peddler days, cast from melted iron into molds. What would happen if he put all his skills into making the strongest axe?

It might be a slight detour from creating a masterpiece sword, but he didn't think it would be a waste.

"Clau, tomorrow I'll stay in the blacksmith's workshop instead of going to the riverside."

"Is that so?"

Claudia tilted her head, not understanding why Lutz was suddenly speaking cheerfully.

"Incidentally, Lutz, it seems there's a suspicious man wandering around this area lately. Be careful too."

"A suspicious person, in this artisan district?"

If they wanted to steal, they would go to wealthier areas. It didn't seem like they were aiming for a small amount of money. Since craftsmen tended to have a volatile temperament, there was a high chance of being counterattacked if they were attacked.

Thinking they wanted to steal his forging techniques, but that was something one could see just by peeking through the window.

"Understood, I'll be careful. If anything happens, scream loudly and jump into the nearest workshop for help."

"They'll surely come to my aid. They all want to owe us a favor."

Saying that, Claudia laughed.

It was an intriguing story, but for now, he couldn't do anything and pushed it to the back of his mind.

He heated the iron, hammered it, folded it, and hammered it again. The forging process was the same as with a sword.

He separated the skin iron and core iron and began making them, just like with a sword.

It took a little more effort to shape the forged iron into an axe. It was indeed different from forging a sword.

Struggling, he managed to complete the axe, and after finishing the sharpening, a monstrously wicked weapon that seemed capable of easily severing heads and limbs appeared.

If it were to fall and hit a hand or leg, it would likely be severed right away. Just thinking about it made his stomach tighten painfully.

Vicious, grotesque, yet somehow beautiful. As he gazed at the blade, he couldn't tell if the reflection was his own face or the skull of the Grim Reaper.

He decided to test it by splitting a piece of firewood, and even though he didn't put much strength into it, the axe cleanly severed it with just its weight.

...This is terrible.

He realized how terrifying an axe could be when swung on the battlefield. A chilling sensation ran down Lutz's spine.

If Dross had wielded this axe instead of the one he had, there was no doubt Lutz would have been killed. No matter how many times he simulated it in his mind, he could only imagine a scene where his arm was struck and sliced off along with the sword.

Although it may sound disrespectful, compared to the axe Lutz had forged, Dross's axe looked like mere scraps of iron.

They were not given weapons befitting heroes. That's what killed them.

Of course, he never forgot that he was the one who directly took their lives, but before that, they were tormented and bound by unseen giants such as the world and fate.

"Would it be bothersome if I called this your grave marker...?"

He asked the axe, but there was no answer to be expected.

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