The air suddenly went quiet.
There are plenty of things in this world where telling the truth out loud basically counts as a roast, so Victor turned his head and said nothing.
Nothing was worse than the air suddenly going quiet.
Noticing the captain's mood, his crew member felt a little embarrassed too—like she'd gone too far. She patted his shoulder. "Vic, if you can transfer magical effects, can you add my rat-warding charm too, so this sword repels rats and fleas?"
It was a solid question—nice associative thinking.
Unfortunately, when Victor looked back, he still seemed awkward. "Not yet. I can't fuse different effects for now, and each item can only take one enchantment at a time.
But don't worry—eventually I'll be able to stack multiple effects.
Tell you what. I'll enchant another weapon. I'm sure this time you'll be thrilled once you see it."
As he spoke, Victor picked up his own sword and tossed it into the cauldron.
Angoulême couldn't stop him in time. Not wanting to watch another two-hour circus ritual, she went expressionless. "You've been working so hard—your stomach's probably growling, and you obviously won't feel like cooking dinner. I'll go buy dumplings for everyone!"
With that, she swept the freshly-minted crowns off the table and into her small coin purse.
"Dumplings? What kind of dumplings?" The familiar word tugged at something nostalgic, but he wasn't sure she meant the same food he was thinking of.
Angoulême used her hands to demonstrate. "White flour wrappers, stuffed with different fillings, pan-fried or boiled—Redanian dumplings."
That sounded right. "Get me twenty pork-and-chive ones." The words left Victor's mouth before he remembered the Northern Kingdoms didn't really do chives. "I mean—pork and spinach."
"No problem! Also, since this enchanting can transfer effects onto gear… can I call Yoana in later? I think she needs to know you can do this."
The alchemy apprentice thought for a moment. "Sure. Give her a basic explanation of what enchanting does, but don't mention 'unthinkable alchemy.' That's our core secret."
...
A while later, when Angoulême and Yoana came back in with a food box, Victor was standing beside the cauldron, stirring with a serious, focused expression. This time it was his own sword—so of course he had to add something actually useful and make Angoulême admit defeat.
And with Yoana watching too, Victor wasn't stingy about showing his best side. For someone with master-tier armorcraft like hers, it was worth keeping a friendly relationship no matter what.
Yoana ate dumplings while listening to Angoulême explain how enchanting worked. When she finished eating, she couldn't wait to pick up the "Sword Against the Catriona Plague," running her fingers over the patterning in the blade, trying to feel the difference before and after the enchantment.
She'd forged this weapon herself. If the weight or balance changed by even a hair, she'd notice.
But after a few light swings, the feel was identical. Confused, she asked, "So it really repels fleas now?"
Angoulême scratched her newly-trimmed hair. "I don't know. Vic says it does. Maybe we can go find some fleas and test it."
Hearing Angoulême puncture the moment again, Victor immediately cut in. "No. My sword's about to be finished. I'll show you with your own eyes what the difference is."
He took out a vial of mental-enhancement potion from his herbal satchel and chugged it in one gulp. His surging focus burst outward, and in an instant the cauldron flashed with seven-colored light—signaling the successful completion of Victor's second enchanted weapon.
Angoulême thumped her right fist into her left palm, annoyed. "Damn it. I forgot to check what charm you were stirring it with. How am I supposed to know what magic effect this one has?"
The glow made Yoana blink. When it faded, she watched Victor lift the steel sword from the pot with confident, dramatic flair, and she couldn't help asking, "What's this sword called?"
Victor's lips curled upward. "The Sword of Prometheus!"
In this world, there was a matching legend about stealing fire. And the being who brought fire to humankind was also called Prometheus.
Hearing that famous name, both Angoulême and Yoana perked up, expectation rising—because from the name alone, it was easy to guess what kind of special effect the weapon should have.
Sure enough, Victor set his stance with the sword, tapped the hilt lightly with his thumb—
And a tiny tongue of flame popped up from the blade.
...
...
...
Inside the workshop, silence.
Angoulême was staring, stunned. Yoana's mouth hung open.
Then Angoulême shut her eyes in pain. "I'm an idiot. I'm a complete idiot. The moment I saw the flea-proof steel sword, I should've known.
When the captain's like this, he's completely out of his mind—and I still got my hopes up, thinking he'd produce some legendary magic sword… I'm such an idiot."
The "truth" she didn't want to face was simple:
On the Sword of Prometheus, the part that was on fire was only a tiny dot at the very tip.
Yoana didn't feel the despair as sharply as Angoulême did. The scene was hilarious, yes—but Prometheus was technically accurate. It really was a "fire-seed sword."
She asked timidly, "So… this is what you get when you fuse a lighter with a steel sword?"
Victor nodded cheerfully. With a flick of his wrist, he snuffed out the little flame at the tip. "Exactly! See, that's why you're a master—one look and you understood the logic. I transferred the effect of a magic lighter onto a sword. Tap the hilt, and the flame pops out. When you're traveling, you'll never have to worry about starting a fire again. Super convenient!"
Yoana clamped a hand over her mouth and lowered her head, trying to look appropriately moved. Angoulême had warned her: whatever you do, don't laugh out loud, or the captain would absolutely hold a grudge and find some petty way to get even later.
Now she finally understood what Angoulême meant about the strange, distinctive humor of Bell Town, east of Zerrikania—this was pure, bubbling foolishness.
Luckily, Victor seemed genuinely delighted with his masterpiece and sank into his own world. As Angoulême and Yoana left the workshop, they could still faintly hear him muttering things like "the grand design of the cosmos" and "a blade like living fire," the kind of nonsense that made no sense to anyone else.
...
Once they reached the kitchen, with the thick wooden door between them and the workshop, the two subordinates finally felt safe enough to gossip about their leader.
"Is he like that often?"
"Not often. But this time it's really bad. He's probably homesick."
"...Honestly, that Prometheus thing was ridiculous, but that's only because it was fused with a lighter. If you had a high-tier magical item, who knows—maybe combining it really could make something powerful."
"Maybe. I'll pay more attention when I'm out shopping. But the market probably only has ordinary stuff."
As she said that, Angoulême thought back to the last few days—the weird, random things Victor had been putting on the shopping lists. At the time, she hadn't understood what any of it was for, but now that she connected it to enchanting, a very bad feeling crept up her spine.
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