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Blacksmith vs. the System 302
🕑 Added 2025-09-13 03:02:02 +0000 UTC“We have our spy ready for questioning,” I said once I made sure that every ward around him was holding. Only then, I had removed the silencing spell that was keeping our unfortunate spy silent.
“I appreciate it,” the young man said before he turned toward the spy. “Who sent you to interfere with me? My cousin? My uncle? A rival family?”
It took quite a bit of effort for me to hold back a sigh. An effective interrogator, the young man was not. Still, I watched. Bad questions didn’t mean that I had no chance of getting a relevant result.
“I don’t know,” he responded. “It was just a job.”
“Lie,” the young man responded. “Answer, and I promise that you’ll be released.” The spy jerked in surprise when he declared that, but ultimately, he shook his head. Not surprisingly, as loyalty of an agent who was determined to kill himself the moment he was caught couldn’t be compromised easily, if at all.
“Please, I’m just a mercenary, and it was a mission. Nothing more. I have a family.” That made the young man hesitate, which the spy hadn’t missed. “Please, I have a son,” he tried his luck, which paid off when the young man looked hesitant. “I’m the only parent left.”
The young man looked at him in silence, then glanced at me in silence before he turned back to the spy. “A family,” he whispered, his tone showing deep longing. His naivety was surprising, though somewhat endearing. He even touched his ring, suggesting that, in addition to being an artifact of shocking value, it was also an heirloom.
Likely belonging to his father considering the intensity of his emotions.
“Tell me what your mission was, and I’ll let you go,” he said.
“I … will you?” the spy gasped, his desperation thick enough to bring tears. Even without Charisma, he was a good actor.
I opened my mouth, but before I could say anything, the young man spoke. “I promise on my honor,” the young man responded, his determination radiating at the mention of honor. The kind that might drive people to death.
The spy had the slightest of smiles before his desperation returned, suggesting that he believed that a vow of honor was enough for his freedom. I understood his perspective. Either the kid — who lost his right to be referred to as a young man temporarily — arranged his freedom, or the kid forced his hand and started a potentially deadly conflict with me.
I had to admit, the spy was smart. Smart enough to ruin all my plans … if they included him in the first place. Instead, I just acted like my plans had been ruined by his trick, glaring impotently.
There was a good reason for my reaction. I had already ascertained that the true target was not me, but the young man, therefore making the spy’s secrets less of a strategic necessity, and more of an informational luxury.
In comparison, the naive and idealistic kid, who had clearly come from another planet, likely a part of a significant force. He didn’t even need to reveal any secrets. Just as it had been with the background of a kingship, his casual knowledge could reshuffle my understanding completely.
“You’re being awfully free when it comes to my prisoner, kiddo,” I growled.
“I …” he paused, surprised, then turned serious when he drew his sword, his skill once again dancing around his blade, impressively layered. “I have already promised him. He’ll be let free, one way or another.”
I paused, looking at the spy with a sharp, impotent gaze, doing my best to make my fury believable. “Are you sure, kiddo?” I growled. He nodded. “Even if you’re releasing a spy, that’s potentially targeting my kingdom,” I added, and the spy radiated triumphant for a fleeting second that I only caught due to Wisdom and Perception.
“Yes,” he responded. “As long as he answers how he targeted me truthfully.” Then he turned to the spy and waited.
“I …” the spy muttered, then paused. “My honor...”
“Is not as important as your son,” the kid responded, his emotions in flux.
“No,” the spy responded in anguish. “T-there are many people unhappy about a blacksmith growing too fast, especially his neighbors. One of the cities had paid me off to cause some problems. I believed you are the one who could safely do it, with your skill that’s clearly above mythic. As long as you defeated him, his soldiers wouldn’t have the courage to attack you.”
The kid nodded again, swallowing the story whole.
“Which city?” I intervened. If he wanted to play along, I was happy to accompany him. “Drakka?”
“I don’t know,” he said, and I flared my mana, a cloud of decay suffocating the room. “I truly don’t. The mission I received was anonymous, and I had already destroyed the letter.”
“You must have suspicions,” I asked.
“I …” he muttered. “I have some suspicions, but nothing else.”
“Spill,” I growled impatiently.
“I … I suspect Vessalia,” he finally whispered, his acting enough to convince me if I hadn’t known about the truth of the situation, or had the overwhelming stat advantage.
The kid brought his sword down, vitality wrapping around it cutting the enchantment that was keeping the spy immobile easily. That surprised me. Not the achievement itself, as the wards were weak at the outside, but the ease his skill was able to cut through mana.
Especially since I was yet to discern the concept behind his skill. It was complicated yet elusive.
Something to be studied, if possible. “You’re really pushing your luck, kiddo,” I growled, grabbing my hammer. He flared his mana and his vitality mixing together. “Fine,” I growled, created a gate, making sure I did it considerably slower than I usually did, and gestured to the spy. “This leads you to the wilderness. Disappear, and never come back, or I’ll cut your head myself.”
The spy took the opportunity and jumped through the gate. I maintained my fake anger while I closed the gate, using the opportunity to send a magical message to Rosie, asking her to use our long-range detectors to track the spy.
The spy didn’t look like a caster, which meant there was a chance we could catch him. I didn’t care much about the spy himself, but his lair was a different question.
Then, I turned to the kid. “You realize you owe me a big favor, right?” I asked.
He lowered his sword and nodded. “Yes. I do, as long as it doesn’t impinge on my honor.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll just ask you questions about your home —” I started, the kid tensed. “Calm down, kiddo. Nothing about your family or why you are here. Just the general questions, similar to how kingship works. I need to understand how things work.”
It was his turn to look surprised. “Really, you want to spend a favor on that? That’s so…”
“It’s all in perspective, kiddo,” I smirked. “Value is relative.”
And, wasn’t that the case, especially with my current situation? While I believed that our relationship with Asterion was good enough to request information, there was no arguing about our complete dependency to them. They could easily omit some critical aspects, which would turn into a dangerous tool to manipulate us.
While the idea of Vessalia or Tristelion was there, especially with their envoy still about to put himself into a very dangerous situation, it wasn’t certain to solve the problem. There was a chance that all cities had an agreement to share the same limited information as a tool for manipulation.
Maybe not, but having someone like the kid falling on my lap was an opportunity … doubly so since he had the first real example of a skill above Mythic which I could experiment with, with the excuse of forging him a new blade.
“Well, that sounds fine for me,” he said.
I nodded, wondering whether I should push him a bit, or let him think some. Before I could come to a decision, the situation presented me with one.
A message from Rosie, explaining that the Tristelion envoy had left the city, and they were taking a long route, one that would make them pass by the nearby swamp. A gift-wrapped opportunity for an ambush, with the possibility of a counter-ambush right at the edge.
Still, I couldn’t help but take it. The situation with the Tristelion envoy has already been initiated.
“Good, then,” I said. “But, it has been a long night. I’ll ask one of the guards to bring you to a guest room. We can talk more in the morning.”
“Deal, but I won’t stay for more than a few days.” I nodded, and he followed through a gate, one that led us to the first floor of the dungeon, the safest place for a VIP guest. Once his stay was arranged, I opened another gate, this time right outside the fire dungeon, dropping me in the swamp.
I had an ambush to deploy.
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Undead Writer
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