Chapter 3 (2/2)

But, nocturnal iron has its limitations as well. If its holder’s soul lacks sufficient strength, the material will serve instead as a critical flaw; a weak soul cannot withstand fierce attack. Especially on the battlefield, when the wavelength of one’s soul becomes weak, so too will his nocturnal iron weapon dull, perhaps even to the point of disuse. As a result, it is a metal used in weaponry only by the strongest on the continent, and even so, nocturnal iron weapons are few and far between in the current era.

“I’ll take it, how much?”

Julian’s own longsword had been destroyed in warfare in his previous life, unable to endure the energies applied upon it. He isn’t about to let the opportunity for an identical weapon just pa.s.s him by.

“This, er …”

The middle-aged blacksmith is stunned, not having predicted that this customer would actually fancy the piece of sc.r.a.p metal. He considers it momentarily.

“Then I’ll take thirty silver for it, and if you’d like, I can polish it for free …”

Purchasing a nocturnal iron weapon with thirty silver is a steal no matter what. Julian doesn’t take advantage of the shopkeeper; he spends three gold as well as the ‘protective’ shortsword – according to market prices, it was at least worth fifty gold. Naturally, he politely declines the ‘kind-hearted’ proposal from the middle-aged man; nocturnal iron is no ordinary metal, so it’s better that Julian tend to something like that himself.

The middle-aged man finds it somewhat difficult to accept this new price, but stays quiet after Julian informs him of the exceptionality of the material, readily taking his recompense. He does not ask exactly what type of rare metal it is; in his view, no matter how rare the metal, it is hardly useful if it cannot be used on domestic hardware.

Julian does not immediately return to the castle after leaving the smithy; he has other matters to attend to on this trip.

...

“That’s right, these doc.u.ments are official.”

Old man Clark squints at the seal on the doc.u.ment, causing his wrinkles to become deeply furrowed.

“Then, you are the master of that castle?”

With a pitiable look, Old Clark ponders the youth before him. How lamentable; he looks only to be seventeen or eighteen. How did he get himself exiled to this kind of remote place?

“Oi … I am not being chatty because of my age, Mr. Julian, but that castle …”

“Those are just legends, are they not?”

Julian interrupts Old Clark’s words. He leans back into the chair, crossing his fingers upon each other; and opens his mouth with a warm smile.

“I, too, have heard of those awful rumors, but I think they are only coincidence. Regardless, even a place like this is part of the kingdom’s sovereign land, and needs someone to manage it. Conceding to rumors of that degree is mere cowardice.”

It is uncertain how convincing the words are, coming from their very cause; but the old mayor, at least, sinks into a lost silence. He sees Julian as a deceived, foolish aristocrat. Clearly, the other man does not believe the rumors, and is ambitious enough to develop upon this land. But what about it? After that war of finality, this castle has already seen several masters; did not all of them share the same thoughts, arrive, and die in the same way?

The youth before his eyes will suffer a similar fate.

“I have not come here, Mr. Clark, to discuss these baseless rumors with you.”

Julian raises his teacup, gazing at the old man through the rising steam.

“I have reviewed the doc.u.ments. In the past, you’ve directly submitted your taxation to the city of Chuca. Now, since I have received this fiefdom, I am sure you are aware of the change in tax matters going forward.”

“Of course, my lord.”

The old mayor is cool; it’s not his first time dealing with a situation like this.

“We will deliver this month’s taxes to your abode the day after next. The income available from Sunset Town … I think you have seen how it is already.”

“Certainly.”

Julian nods.

“Moreover, I have a few other requests to make of you, Mr. Clark. As you’ve seen, I came here alone, but taking care of a castle is, evidently, not something I can do the same way. Therefore, I hope for your a.s.sistance in posting notices of employment, so that I may enjoy the services of the townsfolk … I think this would not be a problem for you. Naturally, I will not be ungenerous with their remuneration.”

At these words, the old mayor’s businesslike face cracks an unmistakably wry smile.

“Even though I really would like to help you, my lord, and I hope you will forgive me for saying this; even if I were to put up those notices, I daresay no one will show up.”

“Oh?”

Casually setting down his teacup, Julian widens his eyes in curiosity.

“Because of those rumors again?”

“That’s right.”

In affirmation of Julian’s query, the old mayor inclines his head.

“To make it plain, my liege, many families within our town have worked at that castle. For example, old Martha … from her grandmother’s time, they’ve customarily been maids in that castle when there was the need. Old Bemba, too, has served two successive terms… Honestly, although your lords.h.i.+p may not believe it, the people that have owned this castle in the past all suffered mysterious deaths. The strangeness of that fact has affected us all; the townsfolk now consider that place to be under a demon’s curse, and dare not approach. Perhaps you were not aware – the old coachman who brought you up the mountain fell sick later that day, and still has not fully recovered …”

That’s because he was in a rush, and was hurt by the chilly night air.

“I understand your thoughts perfectly, Mr. Clark.”

Julian’s voice is delicate, cordial, filled with unquestionable resolve.

“Nevertheless, I have made a decision. Whether there are people willing to come to my castle and work is a matter best seen after the notices are posted. Abandoning a task before even making the attempt is not part of my creed. Putting our utmost effort in before we leave the rest to fate … that’s the kind of att.i.tude us humans should have, no?”

Faced with Julian’s declaration, old Clark opens his mouth to say something, but ultimately delivers only silence. Since this young lord has already made up his mind, he might as well play along … no one will be willing to accept the recruitment anyway.

With thoughts like these, the mayor speaks no further, and nods in acquiescence to Julian’s request.

[0] The complaints about localizing names begin. What kind of name is ”Chuca”? ”Bemba”? It really makes me reconsider my life choices, but oh well. I will try my best. A closer rendition of ”Martha” would have been ”Marfa” or ”Mafa” but those are stupid. Let's not do that, Martha is close enough.

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