The Secretary of the Northern Grand Duchess Has Run Away

Chapter 13: Sword War (1)

The next day at dawn.

It was still a time when all the cadets were fast asleep.

At that hour, I sat alone at the round table.

With the blueprint of a ceremonial longsword in my hand.

「――――――.」

Someone knocked on the door with a steady rhythm.

Responding to it, I opened the door.

“Julius Roger.”

Standing before me was Debier, the chief secretary, dressed in perfect formal attire just like me.

Even at dawn, his eyes gleamed sharply like an eagle’s.

“You were awake. Had you prepared in advance?”

“Yes, I have always needed little sleep.”

With his hands clasped behind his back, the secretary turned indifferently.

“Follow me.”

A carriage was waiting in front of the residence.

I boarded it, and together we headed to one of the workshops belonging to the Luton Arms Dealer.

The workshop was located not far from here.

It was about an hour’s ride by carriage, and just thirty minutes further from there was the academy Echina attended.

“…….”

Throughout the ride, Debier did not say a word to me.

He only leaned on his cane with both hands and stared straight into my face.

That gaze weighed heavily on me, so I just kept my eyes fixed on the window.

In the distance, the elegant old building of the academy came into view.

Perhaps they were in the middle of training, for the spirited shouts of the students reached us.

By the time that sound completely faded, we had arrived at the Luton Workshop.

The first thing that greeted us upon arrival was the acrid air.

A faint scent of iron mixed with something burning and bitter.

Pushing through that harsh air as I stepped down from the carriage, I noticed the workers who had come out to meet us.

“You’ve arrived, Chief Secretary Debier……!!”

At the workshop laborers’ lively greeting, Debier lightly waved a hand.

“Why did you all bother to come out in advance?”

“Of course we should come out to receive you. You are the manager, aren’t you.”

A middle-aged man who seemed to be the head of the workshop bowed deeply to Debier.

No matter how high their rank might be, in front of the chief secretary, they were mere subordinates.

“But I didn’t expect you to arrive two hours earlier than scheduled. Have we perhaps committed some mistake…….”

“No. I simply decided to come early.”

With his hands still behind his back, the secretary strode into the workshop.

Standing side by side with him, I looked around at the Luton Workshop as it had been ten years ago, a sight I hadn’t seen in a long time.

Most of the staff were craftsmen trained by dwarves who lived in the northern mountains.

At the massive furnace positioned in the center of the workshop, they were receiving molten metal and diligently hammering the steel.

Kaang―――.

A clear quenching sound rang through the air.

Under the supervision of mages in charge of safety, the artisans forged polearms in flawless coordination.

‘For now, the atmosphere and discipline of the workshop remain intact.’

Of course, after Edward seized full authority, it would be pushed down to third place in the industry.

When I saw things like this, I could tell just how skilled Debier and the Grand Duke of the North had been in business all this time.

“This quarter’s sales have already surpassed last year’s records. Everything is proceeding smoothly.”

“I know. You’ve done well, workshop master.”

Debier, seemingly uninterested in ordinary weapons, walked right past the vast workshop.

After that, we crossed a gravel yard and headed for a small workshop.

“Is Master Schmidt inside?”

“Ah, yes… I believe he is, but the thing is…”

At the mention of the name Schmidt, the workshop master’s expression turned uneasy.

In response, Debier narrowed his lifeless black eyes and spoke coldly.

“No doubt he’s idling about again.”

“I apologize. It’s just that lately there are hardly any orders for fine swords…”

The secretary didn’t even bother to acknowledge the excuse and flung open the door of the modest workshop.

At that moment.

A stifling smell of liquor pierced my nose.

Yet Debier did not so much as twitch an eyebrow.

He simply approached the muscular man sprawled out asleep beside the blazing forge.

“Master Schmidt. What exactly are you doing during work hours?”

“……”

At the secretary’s frigid voice, the man’s broad back muscles twitched.

Then, a middle-aged man with a rough, intimidating face slowly looked up at Debier.

“I must have grown too lazy. For the empire’s most renowned secretary to come here personally…”

The swordsmith Schmidt gave a low chuckle as he pushed himself upright.

His body bore many old sword scars, long since healed.

“Forgive me. There have been almost no commissions lately. Staring at the forge all day is enough to drive me insane.”

“I was informed. Even the few remaining orders were all snatched away by other houses.”

Even after losing all their clients to rival families, this master swordsmith did not show any real anger.

He simply let out a long, weary sigh as if he had no will left.

“The times are changing, Schmidt. These days, swords spend far more time in their scabbards than out.”

“That’s to be expected. It’s an age of peace, after all.”

The craftsman gave a wry laugh, as if he understood everything.

He had worked so hard to forge swords for the sake of peace, only to find that when peace truly arrived, there was no place left for him.

“With your skill, you could at least make some decorative blades.”

“Have them order those fancy toys from the big workshop over there. I’m not interested.”

Even in front of the secretary who could make the workshop master tremble, the swordsmith remained utterly unperturbed.

He turned his head sharply away and went back to staring into the blazing forge.

“When Luton brought me here, he promised I’d be able to forge swords with real meaning.”

He called the Grand Duke of the North simply “Luton.”

That meant he must at least be of the duke’s generation.

“And now you expect me to make little daggers for women?”

Schmidt Valverde.

Between the strands of the middle-aged man’s long, braided black hair, pointed ears showed themselves.

“The Grand Duke has changed in the end.”

He was a half-dwarf born of a dwarf and a human.

Though he appeared middle-aged outwardly, in truth, he was nearly sixty years old.

“If that’s how it is, I’d rather just become independent and open my own workshop.”

However.

Debier was not the kind of man to be taken lightly.

“A workshop… If you announced such plans, we would gladly support you. But…”

The secretary drew a white document from the inner pocket of his formal coat.

It was an employment contract preserved by magic for forty years.

「Employment Contract, Schmidt Valverde.」

With his long fingers, the secretary pointed to a particular clause.

There, it was written as follows.

「In the event of contract termination, Schmidt shall be prohibited from working in the same industry for three years to protect trade secrets.」

“Do you think you could lay down your hammer for three whole years?”

Debier placed the document into the huge hands of the muscular man.

Although Schmidt was nearly two heads shorter, his hands were far larger.

“Well… I suppose it’s still better than making toy swords.”

The secretary stared silently down at the half-dwarf.

In his black eyes, the fierce flames of the forge were reflected.

“In truth, this trade secret clause isn’t even that important.”

“What…?”

When Schmidt furrowed his brow, the secretary glanced around the craftsman’s workshop as he spoke.

“Because unless you abandon that stubbornness, even if you did open your own workshop, no one would buy those bland swords of yours.”

Countless masterpieces were displayed along the workshop walls.

However, all of them were plain designs that adhered strictly to the basics.

“Do you know why your swords sold at least a little all this time?”

At first glance, there was no major difference from the cheap swords sold on the street.

It would take a skilled knight handling them personally to tell them apart.

“It was because the Grand Duke Luton personally encouraged the commanders to buy them.”

At Debier’s cold remark, the skin beneath Schmidt’s eyes trembled.

His pointed ears twitched faintly as if they too had taken offense.

“No matter how fine a sword may be, what use is it if no one recognizes its value?”

The secretary’s white-gloved finger pointed straight at Schmidt’s face.

Overwhelmed, the craftsman could offer no retort at all.

“If you keep clinging to this pointless pride, you’ll be discarded in the end.”

The secretary turned his head sharply away.

Then, gazing at the pile of failed swords strewn in a corner of the workshop, he spoke.

“No matter who you are.”

With an indifferent expression, Debier left the workshop.

I, too, quietly followed after him.

As I was leaving, I cast a glance back at Schmidt.

The look on the craftsman’s face as he stared down at the broken swords was utterly wretched.

“Yes, I remember now.”

At this time, I had still been a cadet and never had the chance to meet Schmidt in person.

When I was appointed as the chief secretary, he had already been driven out of the Grand Duke’s house for poor performance.

The stubbornness of a dwarf was harder than any lump of iron.

Debier knew this very well, which was why he had provoked Schmidt like that.

Standing at the entrance to the workshop, the secretary closed his eyes tightly as if to cool his anger.

The workshop masters were glancing nervously at him, unable to hide their anxiety.

“We’re sorry, Chief Secretary. We will do everything we can to persuade Master Schmidt.”

“No, that won’t be necessary. How could ordinary people ever break a dwarf’s stubbornness.”

Debier shook his head firmly.

Then he turned to look toward Nord Academy, where the next appointment was scheduled.

“The Grand Duke’s wishes have been made perfectly clear. The choice now rests with Schmidt.”

It seemed the secretary had already given up on him, for he no longer spared the workshop a single glance.

He merely walked back toward the carriage for his next engagement.

However, I did not get into the carriage to follow him.

“You’re not coming, Roger?”

“No. If you permit it, I would like to remain here.”

Ordinarily, if any other cadet said such a thing, Debier would have lost his temper.

But since he was the one who had brought me here, he must have been expecting something from me.

“Do you intend to try persuading Schmidt, whom you’ve never even met, just so you can compete with Lady Helena?”

“If you will grant me the chance, that is exactly what I will do.”

Debier rolled up his sleeve and looked down at his wristwatch.

Then, his sharp gaze flickered as he spoke.

“The Grand Duke does not give a man two chances. There is no need for you to take on the difficult task of breaking a dwarf’s pride.”

“If I choose which opportunities to accept, how could I ever call myself the kind of talent the Grand Duke desires?”

I placed my fist to the left side of my chest.

And with the same lifeless black eyes that so resembled his, I made a promise.

“The Luton family will never be defeated by anyone.”

Debier silently stared at me before unfastening his wristwatch.

He placed it directly into my open palm.

“I will visit the Academy to see Lady Echina. By the time that is finished, it will be noon.”

He pointed at the ‘12 o’clock’ on the watch in my hand.

And in a cold, emotionless voice, he gave his final instruction.

“By then, see if you can make Schmidt change his mind.”

Debier, who always seemed indifferent to the dwarf craftsman.

In truth, he, too, felt regret for Luton’s old business partner.

No matter how outstanding a talent was, if he fell behind or defied the family’s will, he would be discarded without hesitation.

“I understand.”

And this included me, who had stayed behind, insisting I would persuade Schmidt.

A poor choice was grounds for disqualification as a secretary.

After all, a reckless decision could easily endanger one’s lord. It was only natural.

“Before you return, I will change the master’s mind.”

I offered Debier a polite salute as he sat in the carriage.

When the door closed, the attendants standing beside me all bowed their heads in unison.

“Workshop Master.”

“Yes, Chief Secretary.”

Before departing, Debier called the workshop master over.

Then, gesturing toward me, he spoke in a serious tone.

“While I am away, Julius Roger will act on my behalf.”

“…Pardon?”

The middle-aged workshop master frowned slightly as he looked at my youthful face.

However, when he met Debier’s chilling gaze, he quickly smoothed his expression.

“Until I return, you will give him your full cooperation.”

“Ah… understood.”

I had thought he would simply disregard all the work I’d done so far.

But in truth, it seemed Debier did recognize my accomplishments to some extent.

“What would you have me do, cadet?”

Once Debier left, the workshop master asked in a cold voice.

The craftsmen of this place all possessed strong pride, so it was clear they didn’t care for the idea of me standing in as the chief secretary.

“First, bring me a bottle of whiskey. Something very strong and expensive.”

Leaving those words behind, I turned and headed for Schmidt’s workshop.

When I pushed the door open again,

the half-dwarf still sat by the forge.

The dwarven race was known to fight first, no matter who or what invaded—even if it were a dragon.

From this moment on, I would have to persuade this stubborn man, who had inherited their blood.

“And I have always been an expert in this field.”

Soon, an employee summoned by the workshop master brought me a glass bottle filled with golden liquor.

I took it in hand and slowly approached Schmidt.

“Greetings, Master Craftsman.”

I offered him a sly, fox-like smile as I greeted him.

But the swordsmith didn’t so much as glance in my direction.

“I heard you’ve always enjoyed a good drink, so I brought you something.”

At the word “drink,” the middle-aged dwarf’s shoulders flinched.

“I’m fine. I already quit drinking ages ago.”

“…Hm? A dwarf famous for being a drunk has quit drinking?”

At Schmidt’s awkward lie, I immediately realized he was trying to hide something.

To find out what it was, I rose up on my toes to peer down at the master craftsman.

And in that moment,

I saw it: he was already holding a bottle of whiskey, the glass etched with a golden lion.

“Wait a moment. Where did you get that liquor?”

When I stepped forward, Schmidt cleared his throat in embarrassment.

“J-just earlier, some young lady left it as a gift when she commissioned a sword.”

A special whiskey from the western empire, with the golden lion crest as proof.

And she had commissioned a sword from the Luton family craftsman—who was hardly in demand these days.

“That young lady—where did she go?”