The Youngest Hides a Lot of Things [Novel] Chapter 36

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 36

Chapter Title: The Blacksmith's Slump and the Recruit

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Come to think of it, the forge was right next to the magic stone shop. Grandfather spotted me coming out of there and came rushing over.

"You went out, and you were here? Huh?"

"B-Beard, the beard..."

Rub rub. He scooped me up and rubbed his face against mine to his heart's content before finally pulling away.

"Ha, really. What a sight."

"Ah, blacksmith uncle."

"Greetings. Shall we pick out some pretty metal scraps?"

"No.... Later..."

I realized belatedly that the blacksmith uncle was there, hidden behind Grandfather's massive frame. Today, as usual, he was shirtless with a pipe in one hand.

"Scram. You'll wear out my kid. Contact me when the next prototype's ready."

"Yes. As you wish."

The blacksmith uncle scratched his loosely tied green hair and turned away.

'Huh? He seems oddly listless?'

I tilted my head at the man, calmer than usual.

"Sigh, off with you."

The moment he vanished, I asked Grandfather,

"Why's the blacksmith uncle so down today? He's different from last time."

Grandfather answered gruffly.

"Maddix? No forge work, that's why."

"Huh? Really?"

"War's over, weapon orders dried up."

"Gasp, so he's going bankrupt?"

"Pfft! Would be fun if he did! But unfortunately, that's all from this weapon nut's view."

"Aha."

Grandfather looked unconcerned. He must have spent the morning at the forge; a faint iron scent clung to him.

"Probably once he finishes swords for you and that Void kid, no new weapons for a while... That's got him extra down."

"I see."

"Tsk, enough chit-chat. Show me your hands."

Sudden hands?

But it wasn't hard, so I spread both palms wide and held them up to Grandfather's face.

"Here."

"Ha, jeez! Really!"

Grandfather's nose twitched this way and that.

"So small and squishy! No wonder no sword feels right!"

Ah, it was about the sword.

I briefly imagined myself gripping one.

Super heavy and sharp, right?

'But I'll look super badass.'

Hehehe. Suddenly, I wanted it now.

"Ting, at this size, gotta redesign the grip from scratch..."

Grandfather's mutter continued.

I watched him quietly, lost in thought for a moment.

Then, far off, I spotted a knight charging toward us at insane speed, kicking up dust.

"Huh? It's Senior Obron!"

No idea where he sold his horse; he was sprinting the whole distance on foot.

Of course... he was going nearly as fast as if mounted.

"That Obron punk's lost his mind."

No sooner had he spoken than Grandfather timed it perfectly and stuck out his left leg.

Crash tumble thud boom. Senior Obron rolled across the ground noisily.

"Where you headed?"

"Ugh! Which bastard?!"

"Me."

The beast grinning with the sun at his back... I looked up at his pitch-black face and felt it anew.

'Really... so mean.'

Couldn't he just call out to stop him normally?

"Gasp, Your Excellency! Failed to dodge the ambush—my training's still lacking! I've gained enlightenment!"

But Senior seemed totally used to it.

"Where you rushing off to, brows all furrowed?"

"Ah, to the Duke! Got a hopeful recruit for the Knight Order!"

"What...?"

Grandfather's beard twitched.

"New talent for our Northern Region?"

His voice brimmed with glee.

Hearing that, my nape chilled cold by contrast.

It felt like pure instinct.

'Please not him...'

No way, right?

"G-Grandpa! I'm dying to know who! Wow, finally someone under me! Wooow!"

Egging him on with over-the-top hype, Grandfather—who's dead serious about new blood—bit hard.

"Oho, let's go!"

He unhitched the horse from the carriage, mounted up, scooped me into his arms, and bolted.

"Gasp, Lady Rubian! Your Excellency!"

No one could stop the old duke's mad dash.

Zelox folk calmly sidestepped and folded their stalls, totally used to it.

Thanks to them, we covered a 30-minute trek in just 10 to the Knight Order building...

"Wow. Long live the madness..."

As expected, it was him.

No twist.

"What's this half-grown punk?"

The one who boldly stormed the Jebert Knights declaring he'd join was, predictably...

'Khalid Riorc...'

My friend, the mage boy.

Grandfather prowled around him like prey, observing closely.

"Hmm. Looks like he's swung a sword a bit somewhere."

Worn cloak hem, old sword gripped in one hand. Bag slung carelessly over one shoulder.

I craned my neck to peek in his bag. A map, crumpled to hell in one day, flashed by.

That's how I realized he'd wandered all night memorizing Zelox's layout.

'I'm nuts. Shouldn't have given him that map.'

Don't prove your mercenary roots so hard.

"..."

"..."

After a short sigh, our eyes met Khalid's exactly.

Only then did my situation hit me.

Me, hugged like an attachment doll by the Jebert old duke...

For Khalid, who'd only seen my independent, sharp side, this scene must be tough to swallow.

'I get what you wanna say.'

I glared a warning.

'Shut it for now.'

Zip. Nice and clean.

'Go home. Talk later!'

Shoo shoo.

He had to understand, but Khalid just smirked and turned away. His dark blue hair fluttered lightly.

That... a scoff?

"Here, my application."

"Even an application? Surprisingly diligent guy."

Grandfather took the paper Khalid offered. Bold, scrawly handwriting covered the beige parchment.

"What... to catch?"

"Ah."

He hesitated a moment, then crossed out 'to hunt'.

"..."

Grandfather stared at the parchment, utterly baffled.

As silence dragged, Khalid subtly raised a brow.

Alternating glances between his paper and surroundings with a 'what's missing?' look, he went "Aha" and set it down again.

Then, without a hint of hesitation, he drew his dagger and...

"What...!"

...sliced his thumb, slamming a bloody handprint onto it.

"No seal."

"What kinda extreme punk is this!"

Grandfather and the knight uncles all looked horrified. Khalid calmly licked his blood.

'That rascal really...'

His cat-like upturned eyes curved slyly. The two vertical moles under his left eye suddenly seemed roguishly alluring.

'This right?'

His face mixed pride, as if asking.

As if.

"What I wanna know is what the hell this 'childhood friend' is! You crazy brat!"

Grandfather jabbed at the bottom of the paper.

Khalid tilted his head—oh, that?—then extended his unbloodied hand.

"That one."

"What? Me?"

"...No. The doll you're hugging like an attachment doll."

"..."

"That's my childhood friend."

The room erupted in murmurs.

"What! Our snot-nosed friend?!"

"Snot what?"

Grandfather slammed the table—bam! The flimsy thing cracked wide.

'N-No, he went and did it!'

Unaware or not of my seething, Khalid just grinned straight at me.

For a moment, he clutched his paper and strode across the room.

"From your face, looks like you missed me tons..."

His steps halted at the door, creaking open.

"Will you allow it?"

"..."

"Duke Jebert."

The man just appearing frowned at the blood-sealed paper.