The Devil's Betrothed
Chapter 598: I Ate A Dragon

Chapter 598: I Ate A Dragon

Arlan was busy in his study while Oriana slept peacefully in their chamber, exhausted from their time together.

Imbert and Rafal stood by his side, discussing important matters.

"...Lord Nathanial will ensure Alex doesn’t return until Marquis Mortimer leaves the capital."

"Only Nathanial can hold him back," Arlan commented, running his finger along the sword on his desk, a gift from Luis. "Anything else?"

"Yes, Your Highness," Imbert said. "There has been a mysterious group active in the capital for a while."

Arlan raised an eyebrow. "For a while? Why haven’t I heard about it yet?"

"Your Highness has been busy," Imbert hinted at the incidents since Arlan’s wedding. "So Alex preferred to handle it himself until we had more information."

"Got the information then?"

"Not much, as they are acting very discreetly. However, they’ve been more active in the past few days."

"What happened in the past few days to make them so bold, even daring to intrude into our territory?"

"There are hints it coincides with the arrival of Marquis Mortimer," Rafal answered.

"Call him by his name. No need to give him respect," Arlan interrupted. "He doesn’t deserve the title of Marquis, which he stole through wicked means."

Rafal nodded. "And they don’t seem like Luis’s friends."

"Won’t be surprised if that swine has more enemies," Arlan said. "Move our dark forces more aggressively and find out who they are and bring them to me. Let’s see what beef they have with Luis."

"Yes, Your Highness," Rafal added. "They seem to be aware of the existence of dark forces and have stayed away from our people."

"Then they are smart, I guess," Arlan commented.

Kerry entered the study. "Your Highness, I have brought him."

"Bring him here."

Kerry stepped outside and brought in an older man wearing somewhat shabby clothes, the result of his work. His face was wrinkled, with barely any gray hair left on his scalp, and his hands were shaking.

"Your Highness," the man bowed, visibly shaken as to why the Crown Prince had summoned him.

"Master Eldrik," Arlan spoke, "Don’t be afraid. I called you here because I need your help."

"Help?" The man looked puzzled but noticed the sword on the table. "Do you want me to craft a sword for you?"

Arlan shook his head. "Instead, I want you to uncraft something." As he spoke, Arlan’s ears picked up a sound, and a light smile painted his lips as he looked at Rafal. "She is awake. Inform the servants."

Rafal nodded and left. Arlan resumed his attention to the older man. "Master Eldrik, I want you to inspect this sword in front of me. Do whatever you need to do, even break it if necessary, but let me know anything you can find out about it."

The man walked towards the desk and leaned down a little, his eyes taking a careful look at the sword. His slightly shaking fingers traced along the blade and stopped at the handle. "Any sword that is made, not just its blade, but its handle, is the most crucial part of its identity," he said, tracing the finely crafted gold and jade-embedded handle. "I thought I would never see this again."

"What is it?" Arlan asked.

"This craftsmanship is from the kingdom of Aurialor, the fallen kingdom," the man replied. "These swords were rarely made and only for the royal family members. No one else was allowed to learn, craft, or use them. That kingdom and the family that crafted these swords no longer exist, so I believed this exquisite sword-making art was lost as well. But looking at this sword, it’s crafted recently, which means someone still knows how to make it."

Arlan was taken aback. Aurialor was the kingdom that once belonged to Oriana’s family. What does Luis have to do with it? Arlan was aware this differently crafted sword of Mortimer family and he was sure through this sword he would get a lead about from where exactly Mortimers have came to Griven. But this was something unexpected he got to hear.

The man looked at the Prince, his eyes brimming with excitement. "Your Highness, do you know how long it takes to make this sword? At least half a year. Not for the blade, but for the handle, which is key to making it the best sword."

"Are you sure about this sword? Or is it a counterfeit, or has someone tried to imitate the craftsmanship?" Arlan asked.

"We can find out so Your Highness won’t doubt my judgment."

"Go ahead."

"For this, I will need some tools and one of Your Highness’ most powerful knights or guards. Someone who can strike anything accurately in a single blow."

"Do you plan to break this sword?" Arlan asked.

"Not at all, Your Highness," the old man looked at the sword as if he were looking at the woman he loved. "I cannot dare ruin such a beautiful creation. I need what I ask for so that I won’t break it," he said, then turned to look at Arlan as he lifted the sword. "Your Highness, this handle is made of five different parts joined together. To avoid breaking this sword, we must carefully disassemble these parts so the dangerous liquid inside won’t be affected and won’t melt the handle."

"Dangerous liquid?" Arlan echoed, intrigued.

"Yes, Your Highness. These swords contain a volatile liquid within the handle. It’s a secret of the Aurialor craftsmanship, designed to melt the handle and render the sword useless if tampered with incorrectly and no would be able to learn how to craft it. We must be extremely cautious."

"What would the strong blow from my knight do?" Arlan asked.

"I will place a sharp iron tool at particular points, and your knight will hammer it with a strong blow, powerful enough to unlock it in just one strike. We can’t afford any mistakes."

"Is that so?" Arlan picked up the sword, his blue eyes closely observing the handle.

"Yes, Your Highness, we can’t—"

Click! Clack!

Before the man could finish his sentence, all five parts of the sword handle were laid out on the desk, disassembled perfectly without a single mistake.

"Y-Your Highness," the man stammered, looking as if he had seen a ghost. He examined the perfectly disassembled parts and then turned to Arlan. "What... How..."

"Take a look at it first," Arlan instructed.

The man regained his composure and then showed Arlan the pointed part of the blade, now exposed with the handle parts removed. "Your Highness, see this sharp end has blue liquid filled here. If one tries to disassemble this sword incorrectly, even a few drops of this liquid are powerful enough to melt the handle and corrode the blade."

"So this is the real one," Arlan concluded.

"Yes, Your Highness," and asked, "where did you get it from?"

"A gift from an enemy," Arlan replied. "Your work here is done. You can leave." Arlan looked at Imbert. "Make sure to reward Master Eldrik generously."

The man smiled. "Thank you, Your Highness." But before leaving, he asked, "Your Highness, how did you unlock it so easily? As far as I know, it requires immense strength. What trick did you use?"

"Trick?" Arlan said as he leaned back in his chair. "I ate a dragon."

The man was taken aback. "What, Your Highness?"

"When I was in my mother’s womb, a naughty dragon entered to take my place. I didn’t like it, so I ate that dragon. Since then, that dragon’s strength has been inside me," Arlan replied, drawing smiles from his two knights at the old man’s shocked reaction.

The man chuckled. "You jest, Your Highness, but I liked the story," he bowed and turned to leave while he said, "As Your Highness managed to dissemble it, I believe you can assemble it," and left.

Arlan picked up the sword and assembled the parts to turn it as it was. He moved the sword, testing it. "Really a fine sword. No wonder they did not want anyone to learn how to craft it."

He then looked at Imbert, "We need to look into the fallen kingdom."

"Yes, Your Highness," the knights replied.