“Hmm, it’ll do. Not exactly top-tier, but decent enough.”
The prince narrowed his crimson eyes, lips curling in a slight pout. It was far from ideal, but for now, it was the best he could manage as a stopgap.
His original sword had melted in the lava of Dohenia, and there was no retrieving it. Left with no choice, the prince had to purchase a replacement. There were limits to what he could do with a wooden training sword.
Mikhail gave the new blade a few light swings through the air, checking if the grip felt comfortable. The razor-sharp edge sliced through the air with a sharp hiss.
Customers dressed as finely as he was, complete with an attendant, were rare here. The blacksmith, his large hands folded politely, bowed his head deeply and stole a glance at the prince.
“Um…”
From his stance alone, it was clear this boy wasn’t just playing around or putting on airs. The blacksmith, though not a swordsman himself, had enough of an eye to recognize a skilled one.
“If the price isn’t an issue… I do have something better than that.”
“What? Do I look like I can’t afford a decent blade?”
Mikhail snapped, clearly offended. The blacksmith, unfamiliar with the tone of noble speech, broke into a cold sweat, visibly flustered.
“Well? What are you waiting for?”
“Y-Yes, right away. Just a moment, please!”
The blacksmith bolted like an arrow toward the back of the forge. Mikhail placed the blade he’d just tested back onto the table. Adrian remained leaning against a pillar at the rear of the forge, forced to witness the whole scene.
“Why are you being so picky? A good knight never blames his sword, you know.”
The coachman, standing behind the prince, shot Adrian a sharp glare in response to his insolent tone. Yawn—the Gold Dragon responded with a languid yawn, unfazed by the glare. Whatever. Adrian returned an even more arrogant look. The coachman was hiding his true identity too, after all, so Adrian had nothing to be concerned about.
After getting his outfit tailored, the prince had abruptly ordered the carriage to stop by pounding on the wall mid-ride. Without explanation, he’d dragged Adrian and the coachman here to the forge.
The blacksmith, huffing and puffing, came running back with the sword he had mentioned. He began unwrapping a blue cloth as he muttered under his breath.
“Here it is. This was made by my father—”
“Mind if I take a look?”
The young noble’s request, though phrased as a question, was clearly a command. The man handed the sheathed sword over with a respectful “Yes, of course.”
Oho. Mikhail’s eyes widened with excitement. It was rare to find a decent blade in a small town like this. He ran his palm over the sheath with a smooth swoosh. As he drew the blade with a shiiing, the edge gleamed—despite its age, it had been well-maintained and was in excellent condition.
“Perfect. I’ll take it.”
The prince extended his hand toward the coachman. Bowing slightly, the coachman stepped forward with a coin pouch in hand and asked the blacksmith for the price. The man quoted a very reasonable amount, but upon hearing it, the prince buckled the sheath to his waist and declared, “Give him twice that.”
Adrian let out a faint chuckle at the prince’s extravagant sense of money. And yet, back in Basamiel, he’d been struggling without even a single Tilon to his name. The Rustavaran royal family sure knew how to teach their children financial sensibility.
“So you’ve finally realized you’re not gonna win first prize after all, huh?”
He was referring to the sword from Fellen Deeps.
Mikhail sheathed the blade with a swift shiiing in response to Adrian’s jab.
“…”
He turned his head sharply, pretending not to have heard.
Knowing the prince’s personality, that silence was as good as an admission—he had all but given up on the sword from Fellen Deeps.
Yeah, no kidding. He barely had 20 Tilons to his name—what made him think he could casually purchase a sword worth 10,000? The dragon nodded as if to say finally, he’s being sensible.
Mikhail, pleased with the unexpected find, handed over far more gold than the sword was worth. He ignored the blacksmith’s insistence that he couldn’t possibly accept such a sum and simply said, “Let’s go,” turning sharply to head for the carriage first.
The coachman, still standing by the table, respectfully placed the gold pouch down with a firm thunk, then followed after.
Adrian’s expression shifted slightly. Something was bothering him.
“So… what happens now?”
In the dream, the Mikhail he’d seen had been holding a different sword.
A longsword with a sleek wing motif engraved on the hilt. It was large enough that even a fully grown knight of the academy would find it sizeable. And right now, that very sword occupied the most prominent spot in the showcase hall of the Basamiel main mansion.
But in Adrian’s mind, there was absolutely no realistic scenario in which the prince could earn 10,000 Tilons. The only way he’d ever get his hands on that sword was if he smashed the display case and stole it. There was simply no way for Mikhail to obtain the Fellen Deeps sword through legitimate means.
He’d thought it was a prophetic dream… but maybe it had just been a dream after all. Adrian furrowed his brows slightly.
***
The academy’s main building and garden bustled with students returning from their outings. Each of them laughed and bragged about the things they’d bought in the city or exchanged gifts with friends. Streetlamps lit up the dusky evening garden, casting a warm glow.
The items they carried were all extravagantly priced, well beyond the reach of commoners. But these were children of elite households—no one seemed the least bit uncomfortable receiving such costly gifts. They simply smiled and said thank you without a trace of guilt.
Lately, the hottest topic among students was the upcoming party hosted by Cameron Harris. Everyone buzzed with gossip over what to wear, who to go with, and all the social drama surrounding the event.
— But… is that really true?
Sure, the chatter had intensified because it was right before exams, but the most shocking news of all was that Mikhail Luce Inehart, the prince himself, had replied to the invitation saying he’d be attending—with his roommate. Even Cameron Harris would be stunned.
— The two of them even went out together today. I saw them.
— What? Why’d they go out?
— No idea. But… they left in the royal carriage together.
Adrian walked across the campus with a blank expression, unable to avoid overhearing the whispers of nearby students.
“…”
What’s the big deal? We just went out to buy clothes.
Having overly sensitive hearing was a curse. Adrian scratched at his ticklish ear with a finger. He snuck a glance at Mikhail, who was quietly walking beside him with a content expression, one hand resting on the sword at his waist.
Seeing that blade brought the image of the Fellen Deeps sword—neatly displayed in its glass case—back to Adrian’s mind, and his thoughts grew increasingly tangled.
***
He realized it hadn’t just been a dream when he tried to pull out the stone from beneath the bed while Mikhail was asleep.
What the hell? This is weird…
“Tch.” Adrian grit his teeth and grimaced, but the “All-Seeing Eyes” didn’t budge in the slightest. In the end, he had to abandon the one he was trying to lift and reached for the other.
Not just mine—even Mikhail’s, the light one too?
Both stones had become too heavy to lift. Or rather, it was more accurate to say they were stuck to the floor.
“What the hell… seriously, what is this?!”
“Ugh—” Adrian slammed the bed frame down hard and glared at the “All-Seeing Eyes” nestled beneath it.
The dragon flinched and instinctively looked toward Mikhail’s bed. He’d completely forgotten he hadn’t cast a silencing spell beforehand. Fortunately, the prince remained asleep, oblivious. Adrian could still see the silver lashes and pale forehead of the slumbering boy.
“So someone did give me a hint, huh?”
The dragon recalled the knight Mikhail he had met in the dream.
Mikhail had led an army of humans, standing on the front lines, fighting countless monsters. That had to be his future. And for some reason, even if Adrian didn’t fully understand why, that future required the Fellen Deeps sword.
“You get it, right, Mikhail…? One day, you have to go to war—with that sword. And if you don’t get it by the end of this year, we’ll both be expelled. What a joke.”
Adrian let out a heavy sigh and collapsed onto his bed. How in the world was he supposed to help this clueless, business-illiterate prince earn 10,000 Tilons?
And why the hell is my stone affected too? Is it because we’re roommates?
The Gold Dragon tried once more to lift either of the All-Seeing Eyes, but in a human body, it was flat-out impossible. Slowly, Adrian lifted his warm brown eyes toward the peacefully sleeping Mikhail, his face still angelic even in rest.
He couldn’t help but envy the ignorant little prince. More than usual—today, especially.
