“…He gave that sword away!?”
Vincent’s face turned pale with shock.
He’d slinked back late at night, too embarrassed to show his face after his blunder with the prince, only to find that the treasured sword he’d never let out of his sight had vanished in the meantime.
“You… you…!”
While he’d suspected the prince wouldn’t let the matter slide, he hadn’t anticipated that his beloved sword would be taken from him.
As he stood there, dumbstruck, Hendrick Zigsmuntt, the very man who had given away the sword, looked completely unperturbed.
“Didn’t you merely gaze at it every day, unable to use it? Besides, that sword is incompatible with either your Empire Swordsmanship or the Barnaas Martial Arts.”
“That’s because you fail to understand its true worth!”
That sword was no ordinary weapon.
It was the last masterpiece forged by the legendary artisan who had crafted General Gael’s Arjuna—the finest blade he ever made before his death!
“Why do you think I spent a fortune to acquire it? If Ortona hadn’t fallen, we wouldn’t have even had the chance to touch such a treasure!”
“It’s the sword of a fallen kingdom, suited only for outdated martial arts. Why hold onto it like some trinket for bored collectors? That’s unlike you, Father.”
“But to give away such a precious meteoric iron sword so easily…”
“If we really want another one, we could always get another.”
No, it’s not…