The Son-In-Law Of A Prestigious Family Wants A Divorce

✦ Chapter 28 — Helmund’s Swordsmanship  ✦

「Translator – Creator」

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

“Antonio—!”

Isaac burst into the forge, kicking open the always-unlatched door with the force of a man in a hurry. Inside, Antonio, who had been hammering away with the singular focus of a blacksmith engrossed in his craft, jerked upright in surprise. His reaction was swift and loud.

“Didn’t I tell you not to yell my name like that when I’ve got a hammer in my hand?”

“Oh! Then I suppose I’m dead already! Because the sword you made just broke, and now I can’t block the hammer coming for my head!”

Isaac waved the broken sword around, and Antonio’s demeanor softened for a moment. However, it wasn’t easy to get the old blacksmith to admit his mistake.

“No, you scamp!”

“What are you going to say now? That I wielded it wrong? That I faced the wrong opponent? That it’s all part of the learning process? If that’s the case, then tell me from the start! Why do you always say that it will never break, and then it does?”

“Ahem, well, that’s a blacksmith’s pride, you see,” Antonio retorted, puffing out his chest as he retrieved the broken hilt from Isaac.

“Ah, I see! You took this one! This is just a test piece, a worthless thing I made! I have a real sword over there.”

“This excuse is quite fresh, isn’t it?”

“Hrmm.”

Isaac crossed his arms, watching Antonio fumble for a shred of dignity. It was laughable—this same man who’d handed him the blade with full confidence now brushing it off as a prototype.

Antonio, who had already made a new sword, handed it over to Isaac, looking a bit embarrassed.

“This one will never break, I promise.”

“Oh, yeah? Why don’t you hold onto it and see for yourself?”

Isaac unsheathed his Falchion with a theatrical flourish, as if daring Antonio to test it against a real opponent right then and there. Antonio, alarmed, quickly stepped back, his earlier bravado evaporating.

“Hey now! Don’t go smashing it against something like that damned Falchion blade! No weapon could survive that!”

“I see. I’ll use it gently, then. I don’t want it to break again.”

“Hmph.”

Isaac was being sarcastic, and Antonio eventually put his arm around Isaac’s shoulders and led him out of the blacksmith shop.

“Do you smoke?”

“……I quit.”

Isaac had tried smoking once when he was writing with his eyes closed, but it didn’t last long. He had avoided it because he thought it might affect his physical condition when he eventually became a swordsman.

A pointless concern, in retrospect.

“Quit smoking? You’re a remarkable person.”

Antonio, a cigarette dangling from his lips, lit it using the residual heat from his hammer; the air filled with the acrid scent of burning tobacco as he took a long drag.

“This is harder than I thought. I need to maintain the lightness while ensuring a minimum level of strength. I’ve never made a sword like this before.”

“I didn’t expect it to be easy. But could you please tone down the bragging next time?”

“Imagine how foolish I’d look, handing you a fragile sword in front of my apprentices, claiming it’s unbreakable.”

“………………”

There was an awkward silence between the two.

Anyway, it wasn’t a situation where they couldn’t understand each other.

“It’s the first time I’m making a sword like this. My skills are bound to fall short. If that’s the case, I’ll need to make up for those shortcomings in other ways.”

“And by that, you mean?”

Antonio stubbed out his cigarette, grinding it into the dirt floor with his boot. He barked an order at one of his apprentices, demanding his thick winter coat.

“There’s a special ore found here in the North—Frostsilver. It’s a rare material, used to craft the lances of the House Caldias.”

“……………”

“It’s never sold or traded. Aside from what the Margrave offers as tribute to the Royal Family, it’s all kept in the Caldias vaults.”

Isaac remembered Silverna mentioning her spear during the battle. She had said it was something she could never discard.

“If I make a sword with that, I can maintain its strength while making it lighter. Of course, it will take some time.”

“I understand it’s a rare material, but will the Margrave agree to give it to us?”

From the way Antonio described it, it sounded like even the Caldias family had a limited supply.

“Probably not,” Antonio admitted. “But we’ll have to find a way to get some, won’t we?”

The question Isaac had been holding back—why go to such lengths for his sword—rose to his lips. He decided against asking, but Antonio, sensing his curiosity, decided to answer the unspoken question.

“I’ve seen you train.”

“……………….”

“You’re wielding an unfinished sword like it’s a part of you.”

“Ahem.”

“And your opponent—it’s Helmund, isn’t it?”

Isaac’s eyes widened in surprise. He turned to face Antonio, who wore a sly grin, like a child caught playing a harmless prank.

“Isn’t it interesting? The Helmund family’s greatsword, said to be born to wield swords. They’re truly great, aren’t they?”

“Indeed.”

“And you? The exact opposite. A plain longsword against their grandsword. Their titanic physiques against your scrawny commoner’s body.”

Isaac couldn’t deny the truth in his words; the reality of his limitations had always been a bitter pill to swallow.

“And yet, you’re trying to win with all your heart, despite that…”

Antonio patted Isaac on the back, and his words sounded like encouragement. Isaac nodded slightly, feeling a sense of determination.

🎕

Isaac had been intensely focused on his sparring sessions with Shauren lately. 

*Clang!*

Shauren’s greatsword effortlessly deflected Isaac’s ‘Falchion’ weapon, sending it flying back with a resounding clang. Isaac, feeling the overwhelming disparity in their strength, couldn’t help but grimace; the problem was, Shauren was considered a weakling among the Helmund direct descendants.

Except for Edel, the youngest, Shauren was basically the weakest.

“Crimson Flame Wave!”

A red and pink aura burst out from Shauren’s greatsword, and Isaac’s eyes widened as he tried to block it with his Falchion. But the impact was too much. He was sent hurtling backward, briefly airborne, before crashing to the ground.

“Ugh!”

Though he managed to mitigate the fall with a roll, Isaac scowled—not out of pain, but frustration.

The harsh reality loomed over him once again: no matter how hard he tried, the chasm between him and those born with overwhelming power was insurmountable.

“Isaac, are you alright?!”

Shauren rushed over in a panic, helping him to his feet and fretting over his condition.

“See? I told you not to use Crimson Wave! How are we supposed to train if you keep pulling that out? I’m not like those average fighters, like Jonathan!”

“You’re right. You’re different.”

The difference was undeniable. Against Jonathan, he’d managed to gain the upper hand by reading the rhythm of Helmund’s sword techniques and staying one step ahead. But when facing a direct descendant of Helmund, it was an entirely different level.

“I’m serious, Isaac! I’m even telling you the names of the techniques before I use them. See? I’m trying to help you!”

Shauren puffed up with pride, clearly expecting praise. To her credit, announcing her moves did give Isaac a fighting chance.

She’s enjoying this way too much, Isaac thought wryly. He suspected she was getting a bit too attached to the theatrics of shouting out attack names.

“Even so, we need to keep going.”

He brushed the dirt off his pants and gestured for her to resume their training.

“……You didn’t spar like this with my other brothers, did you?”

“Those weren’t sparring sessions.”

“A-Ahem!”

She cleared her throat awkwardly, returning to her starting position. Isaac thought they would continue their training, but then—

“Ah! Wait a second! I just remembered—I need to go somewhere!”

“Hmm?”

Before Isaac could question her, she took off running, disappearing in a flash.

🎕

“Sister!”

Behind the lodging house, Shauren bounded up to Rianna, who immediately scolded her with a sharp gesture to lower her voice.

She handed Shauren a towel and a water bottle.

The towel was warm, and a faint, pleasant aroma wafted from the bottle, indicating that it contained a freshly brewed tea.

“Wow, thanks! But, you know, I didn’t sweat much during training. It’s too cold around here to really work up a sweat,” Shauren said with a laugh, accepting the items gratefully.

Rhianna’s expression darkened, however, as she corrected Shauren’s misunderstanding.

“They’re for Isaac, not you.”

“…Oh.”

Shauren, who had just started unscrewing the cap of the water bottle, sheepishly closed it again.

“But I’m your younger sister.”

“Doesn’t matter. By the way, I watched your sparring earlier.”

“Oh! How was it? My Crimson Wave is getting pretty impressive, right—?!”

“I honestly don’t understand Isaac’s intentions. The way he’s using his ‘Falchion’ weapon…it’s almost like—“

For the next ten minutes, Rianna meticulously dissected their sparring session, offering her insights and suggestions, all focused on improving Isaac’s swordsmanship. Shauren’s initial excitement gave way to mounting annoyance as she listened to her sister’s detailed analysis.

“So, just go to him and relay everything I’ve said. Do you understand?”

“Why don’t you just tell him yourself?”

“If I could, I wouldn’t be asking you.”

“…………….”

Something was off, and Shauren tried to change the subject.

“But, sister, don’t you think Isaac has a certain charm to him?”

“What kind of charm?”

Rhianna, intrigued despite herself, bit at the bait. Shauren beamed and elaborated.

“Like, he’s kind of pitiful, but also sort of… desperate? I mean, Crimson Wave is impossible for him to beat, right? But he keeps fighting back, no matter what. It’s… kinda thrilling!”

“…………….”

“It’s hard to explain. Watching him struggle like that, trying so hard to overcome the impossible—it makes you want to cheer him on. Maybe even take care of him a little?”

“…………….”

“Don’t you feel the same way, sister? Like, maybe that’s why you—”

*SMACK!!!*

🎕

“What’s that on your head?”

“Sniffle…I don’t know!”

Isaac pointed to the lump protruding from Shauren’s head. She sniffed indignantly, clearly annoyed. She’d gone off somewhere for a moment and come back with a fresh bump on her head. Whatever happened wasn’t hard to guess.

“Let’s just start again.”

Isaac decided to drop it.

He’d spent the time while she was gone mulling over strategies to counter Crimson Wave; this sparring session would be the perfect test for his latest theory.

But Shauren had other plans.

 “You’re pretending to be something you’re not, but you’re actually obsessed with the Helmund family’s greatswords!”

“Huh?”

Isaac was taken aback by her comment.

“You’re always using that ‘Falchion’ weapon of yours, even though you lack the strength to wield a Helmund greatsword. Why are you so hung up on a weapon you can’t even use?”

“……………..”

“The Helmund greatsword is all about overwhelming power, and that’s the basic premise. Without strength, the Helmund greatsword is useless.”

“…………….”

“I think that’s why your swordsmanship seems a bit rough. You’re trying to force the Helmund swordsmanship, but it’s not working.”

“…….”

“Forget about the Helmund greatsword. Just focus on your own swordsmanship. You have enough talent for that!”

Isaac raised a brow at her sudden outburst, intrigued despite himself. Shauren’s words had a clarity and confidence that caught him off guard.

“Where did you get that idea from?”

“……Huh?”

“I mean, where did you get the idea that I’m trying to use the Helmund greatsword? You must have seen something that made you think that.”

Isaac decided to be honest with Shauren, who seemed to have a deeper understanding than he thought.

“Yes, that’s right. I don’t like the Helmund family, but I don’t dislike their swordsmanship. In fact, I admire it.”

If anything, it was his admiration, his begrudging respect for their style that fueled his obsession with swords. He wanted to prove himself, to show them what he was capable of.

“There’s definitely a part of me that admires the Helmund greatsword, and I’m trying to make it my own. But I’m curious, where did you see that?”

He thought he had hidden it well, but Shauren had somehow noticed.

He stared at her, waiting for an answer, and Shauren’s gaze wavered. She seemed to wrestle with herself, her head twitching as if trying to look away. Finally, she burst out:

“Y-You can just feel it when you’re fighting! It’s not something you figure out with your head—it’s something your heart tells you!”

Flustered, she thrust the towel and water bottle at Isaac

“Here! Don’t catch a cold!”

“Don’t catch a cold?”

“I mean—take care of yourself!”

“……………..”

Shauren turned and ran away, and Isaac watched her go. He let out a sigh and thought about the maid who had covered her face when Shauren first arrived at the Malideen Wall. The image was still etched in his mind.

“I had a feeling.”

Back when Shauren first arrived at the Malideen Wall.

A suspicion he’d pushed aside at the time.

The image of that maid, her face tightly wrapped, remained deeply etched in Isaac’s mind.

END of CHAPTER

☩

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