Chapter 34
After she became interested in drawing, she began to diligently sketch everything she saw—inside the ducal estate, the scenery outside, the maids and knights.
When people in the castle saw her drawings, they would always compliment her, saying how realistic everyone looked. Even Frederick, when he saw one of her colored pieces, remarked that she had a natural talent.
But Grace felt there was still something missing.
It was a feeling she first experienced when she tried to capture the knights of House Winstaine training.
No matter how closely she drew what she saw, even when the picture was skillfully done, it never gave the same vivid feeling as seeing it in real life.
Was it inevitable that when movement was frozen in a single moment, the drawing would lose its vitality?
“We’re almost at the village.”
Lisetta’s words pulled Grace out of her thoughts.
The village. A place where people lived together. Grace’s curiosity began to swell once more.
“Let’s get off here.”
Lisetta gave the order for the carriage to stop. Grace followed her and stepped down.
“……”
Grace blinked, looking around in a daze. So many people were walking the streets.
There were far more people than at the Reinhardt mansion or the Winstaine estate, and they were much more diverse. Their ages and clothing styles were all different.
Voices rose noisily from all directions. Some people were laughing heartily; others were shouting. She heard whining, and when she turned her head, she saw a child tugging on their mother’s skirt, fussing.
“There are so many people in the village.”
“Everyone here lives together, and you can find everything you need.”
“What’s that… over there?”
Grace pointed at a large, square building with four big wings attached.
“That’s a mill. It grinds wheat into flour. They use that flour to bake bread.”
Is this a guard mission, or a village tour?
Lisetta wasn’t sure anymore. Grace was like a four-year-old discovering the world for the first time.
“What about that place…?”
“That’s the blacksmith. That’s where they make the swords, shields, axes, and bows used by the Winstaine knights.”
In front of the wooden building stood a sign painted with two massive swords and an axe.
“Then… even yours, Lisetta?”
“Yes. The sword I wear at my waist was made there.”
Grace looked back and forth between the smithy and Lisetta’s sword. The swords she’d seen the knights use during training were elegant and beautiful. She was curious about how they were made.
“You’d like to see how it’s made?”
“Yes…”
“Then I’ll speak to the blacksmith and ask if we can watch.”
Reading Grace’s thoughts, Lisetta turned toward the smithy. Grace waited a few steps behind her.
“The Duke’s sword is made here too, so it won’t hurt to become familiar with the craftsman.”
Standing in front of the door, Lisetta pressed her ear close, then knocked with a clenched fist.
“Someone’s inside. Please wait a moment.”
Soon, the door opened and a man appeared.
He was short and plump, with long hair and a thick beard. He looked to be around forty. Over his dark clothes, he wore something that resembled a maid’s apron.
His narrow, thread-like eyes landed on Lisetta—and then his mouth opened wide in a grin.
“A knight, huh?!”
“It’s been a while, Adellick.”
He looked genuinely delighted. Lisetta greeted him with a relaxed expression.
“How have you been? Are you still using the sword I repaired last time?”
“Thanks to you, it’s working fine. I’m trying not to chip it so much this time. I feel bad ruining something you made so carefully.”
“Not at all! That’s bound to happen when you train hard. If anything, I should apologize for making a weaker blade.”
The blacksmith burst into a hearty laugh. Judging by their friendly exchange, the two seemed to know each other well.
“Everything peaceful at the estate?”
“More or less. Things are fine.”
“That’s good to hear! But… may I ask who this lady is?”
The blacksmith’s curious gaze turned to Grace.
“This is the Duchess. She arrived a few months ago. This is probably your first time meeting her.”
“Ah, how do you do, Ma’am. I’m Adellick, the blade maker of the Winstaine territory. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too.”
Grace responded with a smile.
“But what brings you here today, Ma’am?”
“She’s visiting the village for the first time and was curious about the smithy as we passed by. She wants to see how a sword is made.”
“Ah, I see. Well, it’s nothing too special, but…”
“Are you working on something right now?”
Lisetta peered inside and asked.
“Haha, yes. I was actually in the middle of forging a sword. Please, come in.”
As Grace followed Adellick and Lisetta into the smithy, a wave of heat washed over her.
“It’s a bit warm inside. There’s always a fire going.”
“What’s this…?”
Grace’s gaze landed on a sword leaning against the farthest wall. Just above the hilt, set near the base of the blade, something with a pale sky-blue tint gleamed. Was it a gem?
“Please, speak comfortably, Ma’am! No need to be formal with someone like me.”
Adellick flailed his hands in surprise at her polite tone.
“It’s just… more natural for me.”
Grace gave a sheepish smile and trailed off. She could now manage to talk to strangers, but speaking casually with someone she didn’t see every day still felt difficult.
Even if that person was a commoner.
“You’re a bit shy, aren’t you, Ma’am? I understand. The thing embedded in that sword is mithril.”
“Mith…ril?”
“Yes, it’s a type of mineral. It’s so rare I’ve never even had the chance to work with it.”
Adellick’s eyes sparkled as he spoke.
“It’s like a dream material. It’s my life’s goal to work with it at least once. That sword over there is the only thing I’ve ever seen with actual mithril in it.”
“……”
“They say a sword made of mithril is as light as a feather and unmatched in sharpness and durability.”
Grace didn’t know exactly what mithril was, but it clearly meant a great deal to Adellick.
“But it’s so rare… Making a full sword out of it is beyond a dream. There’s a saying: If you discover a mithril mine, you’ll become filthy rich. Ah—look at me rambling.”
Adellick scratched his head, embarrassed by his own excitement.
“No, it’s… interesting.”
Grace meant it. She didn’t dislike the way Adellick spoke so passionately about his work. Even his excitement over some mineral called mithril was endearing.
“You really… seem to like it.”
“Like what, Ma’am?”
“This… job.”
Grace gestured to the workbench, unable to recall the word “blacksmithing.”
