Hard Carried by My Sword-Chapter 112

Jugend, better known as the Steel Kingdom or the Dwarf Kingdom, was a powerful nation in the southeastern part of the continent. With weapons, machinery, and construction techniques several levels more advanced than those of other nations, even the mighty Clyde Empire had to tread carefully in its dealings with them.

Each individual was both a master craftsman and a formidable warrior, so the collective strength of the dwarves who had founded their own nation was naturally immense. Of course, that didn’t mean the dwarf population in Jugend outnumbered the humans.

The ratio of dwarves to humans was about three to seven. Even so, that alone made it one of the rarest examples of a multi-species federation.

“What do you mean this kingdom has no cities?”

Leon repeated the statement in disbelief, and Hamel grinned as if he’d reacted the same way once. It was something that surprised every outsider who heard it for the first time.

Hamel explained, “Yeah, that’s one of the unique things about Jugend. There are no cities or lords. Instead, the territory is divided into units called ‘Areas.’”

“Areas...” Leon muttered.

“For example, Area 8 has iron mines and smelters, and Area 9 is lined with hundreds of smithies that refine the ore. Each area serves a distinct purpose, you see.”

Only El-Cid grasped the core of the system right away, when even Hamel didn’t fully understand himself.

—Division of labor on a city scale, huh? That’s pretty impressive. Just three hundred years ago, those guys were whining about wanting to do everything themselves.

Is division of labor really that big a deal? Leon asked.

—It is. It’s a form of labor that can multiply productivity several times over—even dozens of times. Think of it like this: to make a single sword, you’d have one guy extracting the molten metal, another forging it into shape, another doing the tempering, one sharpening the blade, and another crafting the hilt.

Leon didn’t quite get it at first and had to ask again, Doesn’t that just make things more complicated?

—Nope. It actually simplifies everything. Each person just has to do their part well. If you’re making something by yourself, you waste time and energy switching tasks and trying to maintain focus, but with division of labor, that problem disappears. Plus, you master your skill much faster.

El-Cid also added, —It boosts production and average quality massively, but it makes it harder to produce true masterpieces. I bet the top-tier weapons—the “special grades”—are still made entirely by hand.

It was incredible insight—almost hard to believe that it came from just one piece of information. And El-Cid was right.

Jugend’s most prized weapon, “Jugend Steel,” was so rare that even releasing one or two per year was considered a lot. Based on the numbering, only 258 had ever been produced. Given that Jugend had a 350-year history, that meant they hadn’t even produced one a year on average. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

—Not that they’d last more than one exchange in my hands.

Letting the usual insult pass in one ear and out the other, Leon followed the merchants past the gates of the border checkpoint. Beyond it lay Jugend’s border zone: Area 13.

“Woah...”

The moment he stepped through the gates, the warmth that tickled his skin and the heavy scent of metal filled his nose. One of Jugend’s nicknames, the Steel Kingdom, instantly came to mind.

The entire city was awash in a steel-like shade of grayish white. Buildings, walls, and roads all shared that color. Though it might seem bleak at a glance, to first-timers it gave off a strangely foreign, compelling atmosphere.

“Mr. Leon,” called out Ruson, the caravan leader. He bowed politely and said, “This may not be enough to repay the favor we owe you, but I’ve put in as much as I could. Please accept it.”

“O-oh, you don’t have to give me so much...”

“No, I do. I may be a merchant, but I won’t be the kind of man who undercuts the value of a life.”

Even merchants, infamous for their greed, had lines they wouldn’t cross. And those who tried to lowball the worth of a life were considered scum, even among their peers.

Only after hearing that did Leon accept the pouch. It was heavy.

That marked the end of their journey with the Normand Caravan. Garlond promised to repay them properly later, stamping a document with his golden plaque, while the rest of them headed for the Guild in Area 13.

Hamel, following behind Ruson, waved at them, saying, “I’m under a round-trip contract, so I’m going with them. See you around, kiddo! If you ever come to the Fortress City, I’ll treat you!”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Leon replied.

“Good! Then, see ya!”

It felt a bit strange to part ways just three days after reuniting, but such goodbyes were common among mercenaries. Leon turned around, feeling oddly wistful.

As he and Karen followed Garlond, the man spoke up.

“We’re going this way. By the way, did you know Jugend doesn’t separate the mercenary and adventurer Guilds into different buildings?”

“I didn’t. Why is that?” Leon asked.

“Because most of the jobs in the kingdom are pretty much the same.”

Though his steps occasionally faltered, Garlond refused support and kept walking on his own. Perhaps it was his way of disciplining himself. His voice, at least, was steady as he explained to Leon.

“Over ninety percent of Jugend’s territory is mining zones. So, naturally, most requests for adventurers and mercenaries involve the mines. Clearing out monsters inside, chasing down illegal miners...”

“Ah, it’d be inefficient to handle that with just one side.”

“Exactly. If you assign tasks separately, people start slacking off by claiming, ‘That’s not my job.’ That’s why the boundaries between the two roles have blurred.”

Adventurers primarily dealt with monsters while mercenaries specialized in human threats. The two professions had different lifestyles, battle tactics, and knowledge bases. Mercenaries lacked the experience for fighting monsters, and adventurers weren’t well-trained to deal with criminals.

However, in Jugend, the two had to cooperate and cover for one another’s weaknesses. Otherwise, their failure rate would rise, and their reputation among the dwarves would plummet.

“That’s how the idea of ‘credibility’ came about. It’s a system unique to Jugend,” Garlond explained. “If you want to buy high-quality equipment here, you need to earn credibility points. Without them, you’ll pay several times the price, making it impossible for anyone but the rich or nobles to even think about buying.”

“Wait. Is that why you were also...?”

“Mhm.”

Seeing Leon’s cautious glance, Garlond nodded. He, too, had stayed here for months to earn enough credibility to purchase a proper sword. And that sword had turned out to be cursed. The bitter sense of loss churned in Garlond’s gut once again.

“Anyway. We’re here.”

Suppressing his frustration, Garlond stopped in front of the Guild building. He hadn’t expected to return so soon—in just a few weeks—and looked a little sour as he reached for the door.

The heavy doors swung open with a creak to welcome them. The ones already in the building muttered among themselves upon seeing the unexpected return of an adventurer.

“Hey, isn’t that Garlond?”

“The ‘Gale’? I thought he left.”

“He’s all banged up! Who the hell did he fight?”

“And who’re those people behind him?”

Ignoring the chatter, Garlond, Leon, and Karen headed straight for the reception desk. The sudden appearance of an A-rank mercenary had the junior staff completely on edge.

As they stammered and froze, the Guildmaster, passing by behind the counter, stepped in. He was familiar with Garlond and didn’t hesitate to approach.

Ryan, Guildmaster of Area 13, greeted him with exaggerated cheer.

“You said you were leaving Jugend. Changed your mind?”

Garlond, in contrast, gave a reluctant smile and replied, “Not exactly by choice.”

“Hm?”

Ryan’s wrinkled lips curled slightly. That didn’t sound good. An A-rank mercenary changing plans against his will? Something must’ve happened.

“What is it...?”

Lowering his voice, Ryan leaned forward. When it came to information, speed was everything. Good news could wait, but bad news had to be heard immediately.

Garlond shook his head and said, “Not here. Let’s talk somewhere else.”

“Understood. And who are they?” Ryan asked, glancing at Leon and Karen.

“Witnesses to the incident. And the ones who saved me.”

“They saved you?”

Ryan’s skeptical gaze swept over them briefly before he gestured for the three to follow him. Once inside his office, the four of them sat across from each other on plush sofas.

“Now, can you explain?”

After exchanging glances with Leon and Karen, Garlond leaned forward and opened his mouth.

“Well, here’s what happened...”

***

After hearing the full story about the cursed sword, Ryan, the Guildmaster, wore a dazed expression. It was a situation far beyond what he could handle.

A cursed sword that could drive even an A-rank mercenary like Garlond mad had slipped into weapons forged in Jugend? If anyone else had come to report this, he would’ve kicked them out without a second thought, but this was Garlond. He had nothing to gain from making a false report.

“Any proof?” Ryan asked.

“None. The sword crumbled to dust the moment it broke.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me...”

Ryan rubbed the back of his now-stiff neck, sinking deep into an impossible dilemma. If everything Garlond said was true, they’d need to halt all blacksmithing operations across Jugend and summon the Church immediately.

The economic losses would be incalculable, but they couldn’t ignore something that could entangle hundreds of thousands—maybe even millions—in a bloodbath. The real problem was whether anyone would believe this conspiracy.

“I believe you,” Ryan said. “But without even going to the royal court, the report would be scrapped as false before it ever got that far.”

No evidence, and the suggestion to shut down Jugend’s forges—the kingdom’s lifeline? Even if this came from the king himself, the dwarves would riot.

Dwarves were known to break out in hives if they went even a single day without swinging a hammer. Even if the Guild took an official stance, no one would follow through on such flimsy claims.

Ryan’s dark brown eyes shifted between the two outsiders as he said, “Unless you two are important enough to lend weight to your words, the Guild won’t take any official action.”

Karen remained expressionless, her training as an assassin evident. Leon, on the other hand, hesitated for a moment.

Would it be better to reveal his identity now and request cooperation from the guild and the Church? Was it wise to expose his identity as the Hero to the world when the reality was that he wasn’t even capable of defeating a drake by himself?

After some deliberation, Leon quietly closed his mouth. He decided it wasn’t time yet.

It was a gut feeling with no rational basis, but he trusted it. El-Cid’s silence also felt like a sign of support.

Watching them in turn, Ryan, looking like he’d aged ten years in the last ten minutes, let out a long sigh and finally said, “Bring me proof. I’ll grant you provisional status as Guild investigators. You’ll have access up to Tier 3 classified facilities. Gather whatever evidence you can that might convince the higher-ups, and do it fast.”

“Ryan...”

“This is as far as my authority goes. Now get moving.”

Garlond bowed without another word. Leon and Karen followed suit, offering a nod before leaving the grim-faced Guildmaster behind.

It wasn’t the best outcome, but it was certainly not a bad one, either. The three of them received investigator badges and paperwork at the reception, then slipped out of the Guild building, avoiding the curious gazes of others.

Ryan’s decision had placed a heavy burden on him. Garlond, looking back, murmured, “I owe that guy a big one.”

Karen, speaking in a chipper tone as if to encourage him, said, “Then instead of standing around, shouldn’t we get started on uncovering the truth of the conspiracy? If we catch the culprit, too, that should be more than enough to earn you a promotion.”

“You’ve got a point.”

Garlond closed his eyes tightly for a moment, then started walking with new determination.

Their destination was Forge Alley. Garlond muttered just loud enough for them to hear, using Aura to direct his voice selectively.

“Let’s first visit the forge that sold me that sword. Whether they knew or not... We’ll have to ask to find out.”

All three of them knew that it was highly unlikely the forge had known. Even Garlond, an A-rank mercenary and expert Aura user, hadn’t noticed anything wrong with the sword until it drew blood.

However, with no other leads, the forge was their only starting point. The real problems would come afterward.

“What?!” Garlond shouted in disbelief, and the clerk facing him pointed lazily in one direction.

It was none other than Area 1, the heart of the kingdom, where Jugend Steel was forged.

“Rombart, the master who crafted your sword, left for Area 1 last week upon an honored summons. If you wish to file a claim, please find him there.”

The clerk’s tone was impeccably polite, but his words were thoroughly unhelpful. Then he closed the shop’s door.

Just like that, their destination had moved several hundred kilometers farther.