From a Broken Engagement to the Northern Grand Duke's Son-in-Law

Clang! Clang!

Rhythmic hammering echoed through the forge, punctuated by the hiss of steam and the acrid bite of molten metal.

“Excuse me, mister.”

As I watched Python work the bellows, his daughter approached with tentative steps.

“Why did you help us?”

“I helped because I need a favor from your father.”

“So you’re going to make Daddy make gems too?”

Gems?

I pulled out some honey cakes—Lancelot’s purchase at the market—and offered them to the girl. “What do you mean by gems?”

“People come every day telling Daddy to make gems.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “They came just before you arrived too.”

“That’s an odd request to make at a smithy.”

Gems weren’t forged—they were cut and polished by jewelers, shaped by nature rather than hammer and anvil.

No blacksmith worth their salt would claim to create gems.

“And you’re certain you didn’t hear wrong?”

She shook her head hard, expression darkening. “They tell Daddy to make red gems and offer them up. I hear it every day.”

Understanding dawned on me. Targeting Python’s forge hadn’t been coincidence.

They already know about Python’s true abilities.

I drummed my fingers against my thigh, mind racing.

Even in my previous life, Python’s capabilities hadn’t been revealed until much later. 

Only one organization had possessed that knowledge ahead of time: House Artezia.

Which meant those thugs from earlier were likely Artezia operatives as well.

“Have they started moving already?” I muttered, feeling the familiar chill of approaching danger.

In my previous life, the Artezia bastards had ordered me to retrieve Python, then staged their rebellion shortly after.

The timing was different now, but this was hardly a good sign.

Between the Grand Duke’s disappearance and the orders to find Python, something significant was stirring.

I need to speed things up.

“Pointless chatter.”

Python’s voice cut through my thoughts. He’d removed his goggles and approached, soot streaking his weathered face.

The old blacksmith lifted his daughter into his arms before speaking again. “Don’t trouble yourself over a child’s words.”

“The timing seems too convenient for coincidence.”

“Get involved any further, and you’ll suffer the same fate as the rest.” Python’s voice carried the weight of hard-earned wisdom. “I’m grateful you saved us, but I won’t watch others die for my sake.”

He settled his daughter on a wooden chair in the corner, then pressed something into my palm—a simple ring, still warm from the forge.

“The ring you commissioned.”

Python’s tone remained curt as he turned back to his work.

I studied the ring, then looked up at his retreating form. “House Artezia?”

The blacksmith’s hands stilled for a heartbeat.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Loose-lipped organization, aren’t they? Most people don’t casually mention their superiors by name.”

“…The weapon will take several days.” Python resumed working the bellows. “Please look after my daughter in the meantime.”

He offered no further explanation, his shoulders carrying the weight of unspoken burdens.

I watched him work in silence, recognizing the familiar posture of someone trapped between impossible choices.

* * *

“So where are we heading now?”

As we left the forge, Lancelot asked while absently cleaning his ear with his pinky finger.

Beside him, Roxen cradled Python’s daughter, who had succumbed to exhaustion in his arms.

“First, we need to understand what’s happening here.”

“Here? Aren’t we just asking for trouble?”

Asking for trouble.

Honestly, he had a point. What I truly wanted was the weapon Python would create, not his happiness. The weapon would be completed regardless of my intervention.

There was no logical need for this effort. Moreover, wasn’t the Grand Duke’s disappearance our highest priority?

It would be more efficient to move immediately and confirm his fate.

However…

“I cannot turn away from innocent suffering, Sir Lancelot. Not even for the sake of my father’s safety.” Lea spoke with quiet determination, her voice carrying the unmistakable ring of absolute conviction.

Such an impossibly consistent woman.

I sighed softly, studying Lea’s profile.

Her face reflected deep concern, yet she was once again prepared to sacrifice herself for strangers.

What was it about that damned noble disposition that made her so predictably selfless?

I shook my head, unable to comprehend any of it.

But what choice did I have regardless? She wanted to act according to her principles.

With others, it might be different, but with her alone, I found myself wanting to be worthy of her ideals.

“…Let’s move, then.”

I distributed orders to my subordinates while producing a cigarette. “Sir Lancelot and Hans, survey the slums. Roxen, guard the forge with the child. Kai, gather intelligence in the central district with Lea.”

“What about you, Captain?”

“I’ll be moving alone.”

I turned toward a shadowed corner of the street, where torchlight flickered against grimy stone.

Only one place still pulsed with life in this dark, suffocating kingdom: the underground arena.

I intended to acquire two crucial assets there: information and Hasilan.

Everything I needed waited in the pit below.

* * *

After dispatching my companions, I made my way toward the alley housing the underground arena.

A white mask now concealed my features—a necessary precaution against someone I expected to encounter there.

Fortunate they’re selling these nearby, I thought, adjusting the ceramic surface against my skin.

The arena’s entrance announced itself with gaudy torches and obvious thugs—a place where illegal activities flourished without pretense.

Found it.

I pressed the mask firmly and approached the entrance.

The guards blocked my path as I drew near.

“What’s that supposed to be?”

“Some kind of masquerade?”

My clothing marked me as someone with means, which likely didn’t match their typical clientele.

“Who are you?”

“Hey, answer when spoken to.”

The lead thug scowled, his scarred face twisting with suspicion.

I met his gaze steadily. “Is this how you treat customers here?”

“What?”

“I said I’m a customer.”

I produced a gold coin and flicked it with my thumb.

Ting—

“Oh...!”

The thugs scrambled to catch the coin, immediately subjecting it to scrutiny.

The one who bit down on the gold grinned broadly. “It’s real!”

Greed flooded their expressions like water rushing into a broken dam.

“Hey friend, looks like you’ve got some wealth on you.”

“We’re struggling neighbors… how about sharing the fortune?”

The thugs began closing the distance, their intentions crystal clear.

I sighed as I watched their predictable display. “I was hoping to avoid violence.”

I gathered my Aura and fixed them with a steady stare.

But suddenly, a youthful voice drifted from behind the thugs.

“Ah, these idiots are at it again.”

The speaker approached and delivered sharp slaps to their faces.

Smack—!

Their heads snapped sideways as they groaned in pain.

“L-Ling, ma’am.”

“Didn’t I explicitly tell you to escort big spenders inside when they arrive?”

“W-well...!”

The thugs trembled like prey confronting an apex predator.

Seeing who it was, I couldn’t help a chuckle.

Nothing’s changed.

The arena’s queen and reigning underground champion: Ling.

The woman who commanded Lovan Kingdom’s criminal networks was House Artezia’s most faithful hound.

“Enough excuses.”

Crack.

Ling reached out and snapped one thug’s neck with casual efficiency.

“Pay with your life.”

Ling wiped the blood from her hands with practiced indifference.

Though they could have fled, the remaining thugs simply trembled in place.

“P-please, show mercy...!”

“Mercy? Fuck off.”

Crack—!

Ling dispatched the remaining thugs with the same methodical precision.

Once the carnage concluded, Ling turned to me with a brilliant business smile.

“Sorry for the delay. Would you care to come inside?”

That expression—the seamless transition from violence to commerce—remained as unsettling as ever.

Even after all this time, I couldn’t grow accustomed to this woman’s nature.

Still obsessed with profit.

To Ling, the underground arena’s queen, humanity fell into precisely two categories: those who brought money, and those who didn’t.

The dead thugs had belonged to the latter group, which explained their swift execution.

“You’re a fiery one,” I observed.

“Huh? Oh, this?” Ling’s grin widened. “Thanks for the kind words.”

Ling composed herself with professional grace.

“I haven’t seen you around before. First time at the arena?”

“It is.”

Though that wasn’t strictly true, her memory for profitable faces was legendary. Acting familiar would only invite unwanted scrutiny.

“Wonderful! Shall I explain how things work? We operate an auction system, and—”

Ling launched into a comprehensive explanation of the underground arena—from the main fighting pit to the illegal black market auctions and gambling dens.

It was a place that seemed to specialize in every conceivable form of criminal enterprise.

“How does that sound? First-time visitors have different access levels depending on their tier. What level were you considering?”

Ling’s eyes practically glowed with avarice.

I chuckled and produced a leather pouch heavy with gold coins, tossing it to her.

Jingle—

Ling caught the purse and beamed like a child receiving her favorite sweets.

“I knew it! My instincts never fail! Oh, this won’t do—come inside immediately! I’ll provide the royal treatment, just take a seat and—”

I interrupted Ling’s enthusiasm.

“That won’t be necessary. Champion Ling, I’d like to challenge you.”

Ling’s expression transformed rapidly, warmth giving way to cold calculation.

“What did you say?”

“Didn’t hear me clearly?” I met her gaze directly, unflinching. “I want to challenge you. That money represents my wager.”

My purpose here was straightforward: this place possessed Hasilan, one of Death Veil’s lost divine artifacts.

“Hasilan. Do you still have it?” I asked with a knowing smile.

“Who are you?”

“If you’re affiliated with House Artezia, you should recognize the significance.”

I idly turned the ring on my finger—a serpent coiled in its signature design. Python’s craftsmanship. Fresh from his forge.

“I am Ram, First-Class Scribe of Al Fortia. I’ve come to assess your loyalty on behalf of the House.”

Deception—that grand tradition of human survival—unfolded at my fingertips, complete with a convincingly forged Al Fortia signet ring.