Arc 12 – Dragonshroom
A few days after discovering the ancient ruins
Wolfwood City – in the blacksmith's workshop
The blacksmith master's roar echoed down the entire street as if someone had dropped an entire anvil from the city wall.
"I put my heart and soul into forging your sword, and you replace it with a cursed blade?!"
Anita stood in the middle of the workshop, arms crossed, completely calm.
"Why are you making such a big deal out of this?"
The blacksmith's eyes bulged.
"I'm making a big deal out of it?!
Do you have any idea what people say about cursed swords?
Your whole family could be in danger!"
"Young Wolf examined the sword.
It only thirsts for demon blood."
"Only for demons?
Then let the Hero use it!
But he won't, because she has enough sense to wield a legendary sword instead of a cursed dark blade!"
Anita sighed.
"I love you, Dad, but just because you carved a unique pattern into the hilt doesn't make the blade any better than any other Wolf Knight short sword.
Maybe it's worth more because of the decoration, but the quality isn't even a tiny bit higher.
And in a life‑or‑death fight, the market value doesn't matter — the blade's quality does."
The blacksmith snorted.
"I'm not a dwarf!
I can't make anything better than this even if it kills me!"
"Then why are you whining like a roadside goose?"
"Shut your mouth!
All my other children have already given me a grandchild — except you!"
Anita rolled her eyes.
"Oh no, here we go again… as if you didn't know Young Wolf is the only one I'd ever let put his sword in my sheath!"
The blacksmith almost dropped his hammer.
"You dream of a nobleman's sword?
Who do you think you are, the Princess?"
"Ha!
Young Wolf would play with me sooner than with the Princess!"
"Then why haven't you given me a grandchild yet?"
"Because I'm a Wolf Knight, not a blacksmith!"
"Sure!
Knights visit the brothel three times more often than any blacksmith!"
Anita narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
"And how exactly do you know that?
Don't tell me it's from experience.
Maybe I should tell Mom!"
The blacksmith went pale.
"Just show me that cursed sword, let me see the blade!"
Anita drew the sword but didn't let him get close.
"Fine, here — but don't touch it, or it'll freeze your hand off."
The blacksmith stared in shock at the dark blade, cold mist drifting from it as if winter itself had breathed upon it.
The blacksmith narrowed his eyes as he examined the dark blade, its touch so cold it felt like holding an icicle.
"What craftsmanship!" he muttered with reluctant admiration. "But this wasn't forged by dwarves. This… this is elven work."
Anita's head snapped up.
"You can tell?"
"There's elven script on the blade, not runes, you foolish child!
It must've been forged far in the north. That explains the ice element.
This sword is at least five hundred years old… maybe even older.
No one in the Kingdom today could forge something of this quality."
Anita grinned triumphantly.
"Then stop whining about me using this sword instead."
The blacksmith continued examining the blade, holding his finger just a hair's breadth from it.
"The blade was probably forged from dark iron ore, ice crystal, and demon bones.
Maybe they mixed in plenty of demon blood too.
I don't know… these are all materials I've only ever seen in books."
Anita shrugged.
"Then it was worth making a soul contract with it."
The blacksmith froze.
"A what?"
"Nothing! I mean… what a high‑quality sword."
The blacksmith narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but eventually just sighed.
"Well… it's not as perfect as the Wolf Fang, but in terms of quality, it's not far behind."
Anita brightened.
"So you're not mad?"
The blacksmith smiled and shook his head.
"When have I ever been mad at you? You know you're my favorite.
Anyway… we're running low on bottles. Could you get more of that good pear brandy?"
Anita snorted.
"I brought that from the capital, and I only managed to swipe a few bottles from the Royal Ball."
"Then what can you bring from the castle cellar?"
Anita slapped her forehead.
"You're such a tree stump, Dad!
There's wine — white and red — beer, plum brandy, and maybe cherry, but don't bet your beard on it."
"Plum will do. When can you bring it?"
Anita was already heading for the door.
"Not today. Go to the tavern if you're that thirsty."
The blacksmith just waved her off, though a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Anita stepped out of the workshop, and the cold glow of the Dark Blade shimmered in the sunlight as if the sword itself were grinning in satisfaction.
While Anita successfully convinced her father, the Wolfwood blacksmith, that using the Dark Blade was not the end of the world, a very different kind of alliance was forming in Wolfwood Castle.
As the maids always say:
every sack finds its patch.
And so it happened with Fireburp.
The little Fire Dragon hatchling had befriended the daughter of the castle's head cook — an eight‑year‑old girl her own age, named Lily.
Everyone in the castle simply called her Lili, and she moved around the kitchen with such natural ease it was as if she had been born there.
Lili's role model was Noelle, Young Wolf's personal maid.
And her dream — like that of nearly every girl in Wolfwood these days — was to become a battle maid.
The popularity of the battle‑maid class had grown so quickly that it had already surpassed even the once‑most‑respected female knights.
According to the girls, a battle maid could be elegant, useful, terrifying, and… pretty.
This last point was something the Wolf Knights never quite understood.
Lili pursued her dream in her own way:
with her special eight‑egg battle‑maid omelette, which instantly won Fireburp over.
After the first bite, Fireburp declared that Lili was now her friend.
Since then, they spent a lot of time together.
While Fireburp learned to read from Carla and practiced fire magic under Master Florian, Lili studied the art of cooking in the kitchen.
One afternoon, the two little girls sat in the castle courtyard, legs dangling over the stone ledge.
The Two Little Girls Talk
"Lucky you, Fireburp.
You already became a battle maid so quickly.
I'm so jealous," Lili sighed.
Fireburp puffed out her chest proudly.
"If you awaken your magic element, you can become a battle maid too."
"Until now, whenever a girl awakened her element, she was required to train as a female knight.
But now that we can become battle maids instead, every girl is happy, and everyone wants to be one."
Fireburp thought about it.
"I don't know… I think Noelle works more alone than Anita and Andrea combined."
Lili laughed.
"You don't get it. Cooking isn't work — it's fun!"
"Well, I think eating the food is more fun than making it," Fireburp admitted.
Lili leaned closer, as if she were about to reveal a secret.
"The other day I overheard Noelle and Anita talking about a secret ingredient.
I wasn't eavesdropping, I just… happened to hear it."
Fireburp nodded.
"Yeah, I don't eavesdrop either, I just… accidentally hear things."
"So, Noelle was wondering how she could make her scones even tastier, even though they're already so delicious.
And then Anita said:
'What if you flavored them with Amorcap? They'd be so good we'd enjoy the taste all night long.'
And Noelle answered:
'I bet they would, but even I'm not brave enough to try that.'"
Fireburp blinked.
"What's Amorcap?"
Lili proudly straightened her back.
"You don't know that?
Well… I didn't know either…
So I asked one of the Wolf Hunters when he brought rabbits to the kitchen."