Otaku Translation: The Amber Sword V3C105

Please support the translation by reading the translation and commenting on otakutl official site.

Thank you.

Everyone from Otaku Translation

Chapter 105: Tonygel and the Young Lord Part 5

Brandon unfolded the letter. The page was blank save for a faint mark in the upper right corner. Understanding its significance, he crumpled the paper, ignited a small flame in his hand, and reduced it to ash. The remnants fluttered to the ground like snowflakes.

Raising his head, Brandon felt a weight lift from his shoulders—Chael’s message signaled the druids’ return. Yet, instead of rushing to meet them, he turned to his newly appointed follower.

“Mordain.”

“Yes?” The young man startled, realizing Brandon addressed him. “What is it, my lord?”

“Fetch Tagib for me.”

“Tagib?”

“The cave dweller chieftain. He’s currently in the castle.” Since the onset of war, Brandon had summoned Tagib into the city—a courtesy Grudin never extended. Whether Brandon intended this as a hostage measure, Tagib hadn’t dwelled on it; their oath to their deity assured loyalty regardless.

“Drape a cloak over him. Keep his presence discreet,” Brandon added.

The youth nodded hastily. “Where shall I bring him, my lord?”

Brandon leaned close, whispering instructions. Mordain nodded, glanced at his lord once more for confirmation, then hurried into the swirling snowstorm. Brandon watched until the figure vanished amidst the falling flakes before gesturing to the others.

“Come. Let’s move elsewhere.”

Cinnabar, who’d been silently comparing Brandon to Macaro and Aiko, snapped out of her reverie. Her cheeks flushed as she asked softly, “Where… are we going, my lord?”

Metissa suppressed a smile at her reaction.

“A fine place,” Brandon replied cryptically.

The snow thickened, blanketing the streets in a thin layer of white. Few pedestrians braved the weather, but the warm orange glow emanating from nearby houses offered a comforting contrast to the cold. For Cinnabar, freshly recovered and venturing out for the first time that week, the outing felt like a return to normalcy. She gripped her Halberd of Thunder loosely, trailing behind with an air of detached observation.

Metissa, ever intrigued by human society, occasionally pointed out unfamiliar sights to Brandon.

After walking for some time, the rhythmic clang of metalwork reached their ears. Metissa’s sharp elven hearing detected it first, recognizing they neared Beru’s forge.

Ahead lay Beru’s workshop—a bustling hub since Brandon acquired the cold iron mines and delivered the Magical Eye Gem. Originally part of the previous lord’s estate (or rather, Grudin’s private property), the space expanded when Beru purchased adjacent buildings.

Yet space alone didn’t guarantee success. Recruiting competent workers proved challenging, prompting Beru to lament Brandon’s lack of support. Thankfully, Uriel’s arrival with skilled craftsmen alleviated the issue. Retto’s contingent sent reinforcements, motivated both by strategic foresight and loyalty to the young lord.

Inside, despite the heavy snowfall, the forge burned brightly. Fiery hues painted the interior in stark contrast to the icy world outside. Standing near the entrance, Brandon could almost feel the boundary between warmth and cold through color alone.

“Lord Brandon?” A voice called.

Beru emerged from the chaos within, momentarily free from supervising what he deemed incompetent apprentices. Spotting Brandon, Cinnabar, and Metissa outside, he greeted them warmly.

“Master Beru,” Brandon smiled. His visit wasn’t leisurely—the gathering Palas army weighed heavily on his mind. Plans needed execution.

“What brings you here? Checking up on an old man’s progress?” Beru teased.

“No,” Brandon shook his head. “Just an idea.”

“An idea?” Beru raised an eyebrow but motioned them inside. “Regardless, come in—if you don’t mind the noise and grime.”

Brandon entered, accompanied by Metissa, Cinnabar, and Mordain. Glancing around, he noted the absence of robed figures among the bare-chested blacksmiths and apprentices. Chael’s team hadn’t arrived yet, meaning Beru’s current output wasn’t White Lion Armor.

“Magical armor not underway?” Brandon inquired.

“You deny inspecting progress?” Beru chuckled wryly. “Years away from the craft have dulled my skills. Those Magical Eye Gems are precious—I can’t afford mistakes. I’m warming up first.”

Surveying the workshop, he sighed. “Besides, these hands need practice. They’re far too rough.”

“Your standards are high,” Brandon remarked. Having served Eruin’s royal forge, Beru was renowned as the foremost master. His former assistants were now prominent figures, leaving little wonder why he found these recruits lacking.

Most were rural blacksmiths with minimal experience—few had encountered magitech machinery, let alone forged weapons regularly. Armor crafting was even more complex, requiring tailoring and leatherworking expertise alongside metallurgy. Artisans from various trades collaborated to assemble completed suits of armor, a painstaking process often spanning hours or days.

Beru frowned at the ancient magitech machines dominating the workshop. Decades-old relics, they stamped chest and back plates before etching magical arrays onto them using arcane rays. However, their performance was erratic, frequently malfunctioning.

“Even machines I used ten years ago surpassed these two. Their condition rivals my own decrepitude,” Beru muttered. Tonygel’s backwardness astonished him. Previously unaware such places existed in Eruin, he marveled at its apparent century-long lag behind modern advancements.

Without magitech power, the city resembled a sprawling junkyard, surrounded by wilderness. Agriculture remained rudimentary, unlike prosperous regions where elementalists manipulated weather for crop growth. Elsewhere, large-scale magitech revolutionized farming—a legacy of Cruzean learning from Hazael, indirectly transforming Eruin.

These innovations reshaped wars, igniting the Second Holy War and propelling global change. Yet Tonygel remained untouched.

And not just Tonygel—Beru viewed all of Jandel as a forsaken frontier, neglected due to its magic-averse rulers. While his perspective stemmed from bias, Brandon recognized the southern borderlands’ poverty stemmed from multifaceted causes. Beyond Jandel, areas like Goran-Elsun, and southern Karasu shared similar struggles.

Eruin’s southern fringes consistently lagged behind the kingdom’s heartland due to developmental disparities, geographic isolation, and monster incursions. Buchi, Braggs, Tonygel—all paled compared to central provinces.

“Make do, Master Beru,” Brandon advised. Despite appearing outdated elsewhere, these machines were invaluable here. Initially slated for disassembly by Antietta for study, Beru intervened, preserving them.

Their utility now justified his decision. Though antiquated, they surpassed Tonygel’s rudimentary manual methods. Imagining Cold Fir’s medieval-level productivity, Brandon shuddered at the timeline required to achieve his ambitions.

Time waits for no one.

Please rate or leave a review for this novel at

https://www.novelupdates.com/series/the-amber-sword/

If you would like to support this translation, you may choose any one of the options below.