Faust turned her gaze toward the window. What Lancel had said earlier bothered her more than she could explain.

He asked about her past, then questioned it instead of simply siding with her. Wasn’t that too much?

But if it were really that simple, there would have been no reason for Angelica to drag things out.

All Faust had ever wanted was an explanation. And at one point, she had even begged for one.

Back then, her attachment to Angelica ran so deep that she found herself hoping, even praying, that Angelica would at least offer an excuse.

But in the end, she never did.

And that hurt Faust more than she cared to admit.

"I thought you hated her," she said, turning toward Lancel. "Surprisingly, you’re much more forgiving than you look, Lancel."

"Who said I don’t hate her?" Lancel replied. "This is one thing, and that’s another. What happened between you and her is your matter. What I have with her is mine. I’m not taking her side."

He paused before continuing.

"But these past few months... I’ve learned that there are always two sides to the same coin. What felt like agonizing torture to me might have had some twisted reasoning on her end, something I’m not even willing to understand."

He let out a quiet breath.

"Even so... when it comes to Angelica... I’d rather not see her again."

* * *

The Karhold Kingdom, an empire built on the efforts of dwarves.

Throughout history, dwarves had always maintained a low profile, choosing to live quietly beneath the earth in vast underground habitats.

They often kept to themselves and rarely interacted with the surface world.

However, Karhold marked a turning point.

Established five centuries ago, it was the first time dwarves stepped out of isolation and extended a hand to the other races.

What began as an effort at trade slowly grew into something far greater.

Karhold became a hub.

A kingdom where caravans from every corner of the continent converged, where raw materials were refined into masterwork goods, and where engineering reached heights no other nation could replicate.

Their cities were layered, partially above ground, but primarily built deep within mountains, reinforced with long-winded systems of tunnels, lifts, and chambers that spanned for miles.

Their roads, like the one Lancel now traveled on, were the result of their craft.

Perfectly aligned stone, reinforced with alloys, designed not just for durability but for efficiency.

Trade routes branching out from Karhold connected kingdoms that would have otherwise remained isolated, making it one of the most influential powers on the continent despite its relatively reserved nature.

"Halt."

The moment their carriage crossed the threshold, it was brought to an immediate stop.

Dwarven guards stepped forward. Clad in heavy armor, their gazes scanned the carriage.

"State your business."

One of them stepped closer.

Faust didn’t seem the least bit bothered. She leaned slightly forward, resting her chin on her hand as she spoke.

"Travelers," she said. "Passing through Karhold on the way to Emadestrin. We’ll be stopping briefly for supplies before continuing onward."

The guard’s eyes narrowed.

But the moment his gaze landed on the wide-brimmed hat resting atop Faust’s head, he paused.

A subtle shift ran through his expression. He swallowed, then stepped aside without another word.

"...You may pass."

Faust let out an amused smile before leaning back into the carriage.

"That’s cheating..." Lancel muttered. "I remember having to forge documents and go through layers of verification just to get into Karhold..."

"He was probably smitten," Faust said casually. "It’s the only explanation."

"...Right."

While Faust was undeniably beautiful, that clearly wasn’t the reason.

Being a witch was cheating.

Among the many races, witches were feared. And that fear translated into deference. Special treatment was given instinctively, even when no one wanted to admit it.

"We won’t actually be stopping for supplies, by the way," Faust said. "There’s no need. At this pace, we’ll reach Emadestrin in about a week. But if there’s anything you want to do here, now’s your chance."

"I was thinking of having my sword inspected by a blacksmith," Lancel said. "Dwarves have lived for a long time, right?"

"Yes...?"

"Then maybe they’d recognize the craftsmanship." 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

"Hm..."

Faust’s gaze shifted to the large sword resting at Lancel’s side.

Arondight.

Lancel had long wanted to confirm whether there was something unusual about it.

According to Countess Gretelle, the blade had been obtained through a bargain with a witch, and not just any witch, but the First Grand Witch, Vivienne.

There had to be something more to it. And if anyone could recognize its origin, it would be the dwarves.

"I’ll take a look around with you, then."

They parked the carriage somewhere discreet. Faust quickly cast a spell over it. The carriage’s slowly blended into its surroundings like camouflage.

After that, the two of them made their way through Karhold.

They walked past stone-lined streets, through crowded trade routes and workshops, until they eventually reached the smithery district.

The scent of smoke hit them immediately, followed by the sharp clang of metal striking metal.

The deeper they went, the louder it became.

Clang—clang—clang——!

Sparks flew from open forges, scattering like embers across the smoke-filled air. The heat alone was enough to make Lancel loosen his collar slightly.

"...It’s been a while since I was here."

Rows of forges lined the street. Dwarves worked in sync, hammering molten metal into shape, sharpening blades, assembling mechanisms, or engraving runes into finished weapons.

Lancel’s gaze swept across the district.

Most of the dwarves here were focused on production. But deeper in, away from the main road, a different section began to reveal itself.

"Does the heat not bother you...?"

Lancel turned to look at her.

Her clothing was far more revealing than he had initially noticed. A sleeveless dress that left her arms completely bare, even exposing her underarms.

In a place like this, surrounded by heat and smoke, it probably made sense.

Even so, Lancel caught a few passersby glancing her way. When they met his gaze, Lancel glared sharply.

For some reason, he didn’t like them ogling at Faust.

"Not really," Faust said. "I cast a heat-resistance spell before coming here. Do you want one too?"

"Nah, I’m fine." Lancel paused for a moment. "But if I were you, I’d probably... cover up a bit. At least your legs."

"Why?" Faust glanced around. As her eyes met a passerby’s lingering gaze, she seemed to understand. "Hm? I see. So I’m attracting attention, huh?"

"...."

"Does it matter, though?"

"...I guess not."

The more he got to know Faust, the less normal she seemed. Or perhaps, she had simply stopped holding back around him.

Either way, Lancel shook his head and continued walking deeper into the district.

After scanning the area for a moment, the two stopped in front of a smithery that, at a glance, looked promising.

As they stepped inside, the dwarf working the forge didn’t acknowledge them at all.

He continued hammering the heated metal, sparks bursting with each impact. Only after finishing his current sequence did he dip the piece into water, steam rising between them.

Hiiisssss——

"...You’ve been standing there for a while," the dwarf said without turning. "Either speak or leave."

"I’d like a weapon analyzed."

The dwarf finally turned.

His eyes moved from Lancel’s face, then down to the sword at his side.

And in that instant, his expression changed.

"...Take it out."

Lancel reached for the hilt and unsheathed the blade, revealing Arondight in full.

The moment the metal caught the forge light, the dwarf narrowed his gaze.

"...Where did you get this?"

"Can you tell me what it is?" Lancel asked instead.

The dwarf remained silent for a moment, studying the blade more closely before speaking.

"All signs point to this sword once bearing magical runes," he said. "But now... whatever was embedded within it has long since faded."

His fingers traced lightly along the surface.

"As it stands, this is nothing more than a chunk of metal. A shame... considering it was forged using dragon scales."

"...The runes have... faded?" Lancel frowned. "What if they were activated recently?"

"That’s impossible," the dwarf said. "Those runes have long since gone dormant. For them to awaken again, the blade would require its original wielder. And I assume... that isn’t you."

"...."

But it had happened.

At that moment, when Lancel had pulled the blade from the stone, the blade had reacted. The runes had flared to life, if only for an instant.

"Dragon scales?" Faust said. "Is that normal?"

"Aye, not at all," the dwarf replied. "A single dragon scale can fetch a hefty price, around three hundred gold coins per kilogram. By that estimate, forging a blade of this size would require at least three scales."

He tapped the flat of the sword lightly.

"That alone puts it at roughly nine hundred gold coins. And that’s not even accounting for the runework, the labor, the taxes... all the additional costs that come with crafting something like this."

For a metal that expensive, it only made sense for it to be forged into a weapon reinforced with magic runes. Otherwise, it would be a complete waste. Lancel understood where the dwarf was coming from.

"Do you recognize the craftsmanship?" Lancel asked. "Anything that points to who forged it?"

"Hm..."

The dwarf examined the blade under the forge light. He turned it slightly, watching how the surface caught the glow, how it reflected, and how it held.

Then, he looked up at Lancel with a flat expression.

"...Are you out of your mind? You think I can just tell you that on the spot, like I’m some kind of psychic?!"