Otaku Translation: The Amber Sword V3C109

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Chapter 109: Tonygel and the Young Lord Part 9

"No, you're mistaken, Master Beru," Brandon replied with a shake of his head.

The young man closed the door as the mysterious visitor threw off their cloak, revealing a stooped figure clad in feathered robes draped over wrinkled skin. Tagib bowed deeply to Brandon, his posture deferential.

"Cave dwellers?" Beru exclaimed, startled. "Wait, kid, do you mean...?" The master craftsman quickly pieced it together—the armor he had painstakingly forged according to the blueprints was unusable by humans but perfectly suited for these subterranean beings.

"When did you start dealing with cave dwellers?" Beru demanded.

"Didn’t we fight them once?" Brandon countered lightly.

"But… what does this mean?" Beru stammered, utterly bewildered.

News of the battle against Sir Minty had been tightly controlled, and most prisoners were isolated in the dungeons, ensuring that word of the cave dwellers' involvement never leaked out. Furthermore, Beru had devoted himself entirely to his forge, paying little heed to Brandon’s military affairs. He remained unaware that a sizable clan of cave dwellers had joined Brandon’s forces.

"My lord…" Tagib murmured humbly in halting Cruzean, addressing the elder craftsman with respect, "impressive."

"So they’ve pledged themselves to you?" Beru turned back to Brandon.

Brandon nodded.

"By Marsha’s grace!" Beru gasped, holding up a trembling hand. "How many? Five hundred?"

Five hundred—precisely the number of suits of armor Brandon had requested from him. But the young lord merely smiled and shook his head. Beru’s estimation was far too simplistic. Even among cave dwellers, not every individual was a warrior of peak strength. Besides, Brandon noted Tagib’s respectful demeanor; while loyal, the chieftain wouldn’t entrust the fate of his entire tribe to anyone so easily.

"Three thousand," Brandon said simply.

Beru choked, grabbing the edge of the table for support. "I see… It seems these old bones truly can’t keep pace with your youthful ambitions." He shook his head incredulously. Three thousand cave dwellers? How had the young lord defeated them, let alone brought them under his banner?

No wonder the mercenaries—especially the younger ones—held this young lord in such high regard. Initially dismissive, Beru now understood their admiration wasn’t mere blind loyalty.

"Enough," Beru sighed. "I understand. Palas is in for trouble."

"It won’t be that simple," Brandon corrected, shaking his head. "Earl Jandel isn’t reckless. He’s an old fox, and Sir Minty’s defeat will make him cautious."

"You think Palas will receive reinforcements?"

"Isn’t it inevitable?" Brandon replied coolly.

Beru stroked his chin thoughtfully. "So that’s why you’re arming the cave dwellers?"

"Precisely." Brandon patted the armor. Turning to Tagib, he instructed, "Tagib, try it on."

"My lord, what…?" Tagib tilted his head, sensing the metallic echo.

"You’ll know when you wear it."

"I am a witch doctor…" Tagib hesitated, realizing it was a suit of armor and waving his hands in protest. "My lord…"

"It’s fine, just a test," Brandon assured him with a faint smile. "This is a gift for your people. Surely you wouldn’t refuse?"

"A gift?" Tagib blinked, stunned.

"Your clan isn’t one of the strongest underground, is it?" Brandon asked pointedly.

Tagib fell silent before nodding. A strong clan wouldn’t have been driven to the surface, preferring life below ground if given the choice. Though his tribe wasn’t small, he lacked the backing of a powerful subterranean lord. Tagib knew the burden passed down by his ancestors: a population where the elderly and weak outnumbered capable fighters.

"It doesn’t matter," Brandon reassured him. "I’ve said it before—if we can’t improve our innate strength or skill, then we must focus on enhancing our equipment."

"Enhancing… equipment?" Tagib repeated uncertainly.

"I intend to give your clan five hundred suits of heavy armor," Brandon declared, "custom-made for cave dwellers."

The chieftain was dumbfounded. Even underground, five hundred suits of heavy armor represented immense wealth—wealth no subterranean lord would squander on arming cave dwellers, essentially disposable cannon fodder.

"Cave dwellers… don’t wear armor," Tagib stuttered. "My lord."

Cave dwellers rejecting armor? Brandon inwardly cursed. He vividly remembered the charge led by Erache, the Siege Master, during the Third War—armored cave dweller shock troops whose ferocity still lingered in his memory. The design drawing Brandon held was the prototype of Erache’s famed Rhino Armor, though later iterations were beyond his reach. Still, even in the Year of Blossoms and Summer Leaves, this version was revolutionary.

Brandon recalled clearly: the first Rhino Armor wouldn’t appear for another five years.

"Are you content to remain expendable fodder forever?" Brandon shook his head. "That ends now, Tagib. This armor was designed specifically for your kind."

"Hold on," Beru interjected suddenly. "You’re saying this armor has never existed before?"

"Naturally."

Beru stared at the young lord, seething. "You commissioned hundreds of sets without even testing them on the intended users?"

His voice rose to a shout. To Beru, this was preposterous. From ancient times to the present, no sane craftsman would mass-produce untested designs. Was Brandon treating this like some child’s toy? If Brandon were obscenely wealthy, perhaps Beru could forgive such recklessness—but the Cold Fir domain was barely scraping by, struggling to maintain itself.

The iron ore used to forge over two hundred suits of armor nearly depleted the territory’s reserves, delaying the reconstruction of the walls. Antietta had complained bitterly about it more than once.

Beru grew angrier still, thinking of Brandon’s claims to stand alongside the princess. If everyone around Her Highness acted like this reckless youth, Beru doubted the kingdom had any future at all.

He felt mocked—a master craftsman made a fool of. Glaring daggers at Brandon, Beru vowed to teach the kid a lesson.

But Brandon remained unperturbed, his expression serene. Only when Beru began shouting did he show mild surprise. Once the tirade ended, however, the young lord chuckled.

"Is it worth getting so worked up, Master Beru?" Brandon shook his head.

"You dare laugh?" Beru fumed. "Give me an explanation—or today, I’ll give you one."

"And how do you plan to do that?" Brandon crossed his arms, amused.

In their argument, both seemed to forget Tagib—and poor ‘Mordain’ had been relegated to the sidelines since the start.

"I—I quit!" Beru spluttered.

"Calm down," Brandon soothed. "Master Beru, you’re the kingdom’s foremost craftsman. Can’t you tell whether this armor works?"

"Exactly because I’m the kingdom’s foremost craftsman that I must stop your irresponsible behavior!" Beru snapped. Yet, glancing at Tagib, he couldn’t deny the craftsmanship. The armor appeared slightly oversized for the witch doctor, but cave dweller warriors were undoubtedly stronger. With minor adjustments, it would fit perfectly.

Thinking of this, Beru’s anger waned, replaced by reluctant admiration. Designing and crafting such a piece based purely on experience required decades of expertise—something even he might struggle with. He eyed Brandon suspiciously. Could this young man be a hidden master craftsman?

Unlikely. Instead, Beru grumbled, "You didn’t create this, did you?"

Brandon nodded. "It’s the work of a friend who specializes in cave dwellers." He conveniently claimed Erache, miles beneath Yhaggoroth, as his ally.

Somewhere deep underground, Erache sneezed.

"That makes more sense," Beru conceded. "Just don’t pull this stunt again. Leave such surprises to you youngsters. These old bones can’t handle much more."

"You exaggerate," Brandon grinned. "I’d never intentionally trouble you, Master Beru. You’re my domain’s greatest treasure."

"This is only temporary employment," Beru muttered, reminding Brandon of the fact. Still, the flattery pleased him.

Brandon turned to Tagib. "Well, Tagib, will you accept this gift?"

Tagib hesitated. During the conversation, he had examined the armor. Lacking sight, cave dwellers relied on heightened touch and hearing. Though brief, his assessment confirmed the armor was tailored for his kin.

Tempted but wary, Tagib asked, "My lord… conditions?"

Brandon nodded. He expected no less.

"The terms are simple," Brandon leaned in, whispering into Tagib’s ear.

Tagib froze for a moment, then fell into hesitation, but in the end, he still nodded.

"Agreed."

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