The Academy’s Weapon Replicator-Chapter 5.2: The Branch in the Coffin, Mistletoe (3) Part 2

Ortel smiled with interest.

The most notable expression was made by Azier.

“…Father.”

“I decided this before coming here.”

Azier had nothing to say and closed his mouth.

The expectation his father placed on him was heavy but not burdensome.

He wasn’t obsessed with Mistilteinn, but it would be delightful to have it as his own.

However, truly,

Is that item truly worth offering up 'Gram'?

The hero 'Sigurd’s' famous sword, Gram.

Sigurd is arguably the most famous hero in Norse mythology.

"It is not only gods, but 'divine relics' encompass even the weapons of heroes.

And 'Gram' would surpass the weapons of most gods.

"Now, hold on, just calm down."

Miller intervened in a fluster.

"The deal was proceeding so abruptly that I've been observing, but there's an issue that needs to be resolved first."

"That's right."

Quinie continued.

"First of all, is this really Mistilteinn?"

All eyes turned to Quinie. She stepped forward to mediate, having observed the situation until now.

"If this is not Mistilteinn, then this deal becomes an entirely different matter."

Indeed. It's too early to conduct a transaction based on the assumption that it's genuine. The value lies in 'not knowing' whether it is authentic or not.

"So, who will verify that?"

Ludwigg pointed to the transparent container surrounding Mistilteinn.

The simplest way to find out is just one. Breaking that container.

The current Mistilteinn does not give off any divine aura.

However, if the aura was 'erased' because of that container. Then Mistilteinn, including the transparent container, could be a 'divine relic.'

If so, breaking the container would be a perilous act. Nobody wants to incur divine punishment.

"We will not verify."

"What do you mean?"

"Whether this branch is Mistilteinn or not cannot be determined. It might be, or it might not be. The value of this item lies precisely in that. We must proceed with the transaction, keeping this in mind."

In other words, the value that arises from the item itself. If the expenditure matches that value, then the deal is valid.

This was Quinie's thought.

If the transaction were based on the assumption that this is the real Mistilteinn, Quinie could not possibly offer terms to match that.

Nor did she want to.

However, if it's assumed that this is merely symbolic of Mistilteinn, not actually usable. The price drops, and the families desiring it change.

Not the families who want to treat Mistilteinn as a 'weapon,' but as a 'sign.'

Precisely families like Quinie's.

'Good. If this is the flow, I might be able to get it quite cheaply......'

"It doesn't matter."

At that moment, a single sentence cut off her train of thought.

Enfer spoke as if he was passing judgment.

"Whether it's real or not, I'll prove it later."

"...Even so, you're willing to hand over your sword? What if it's fake?"

This time, even Ortel was surprised and asked back.

"If it's not real, then that's the end of it. Nothing more."

"Don't be ridiculous. Do you know what it means to hand over 'Gram'?"

"Ortel."

His voice was slightly breathy, and the air grew heavy.

"My era has long since passed."

These were words that no one dared to ignore.

Everyone looked at Enfer, their faces filled with bewilderment.

"Azier will surpass me. So what use is a sword to me?"

"...Are you really going to give up Gram?"

"How many times do I have to repeat myself?"

Enfer's eyes were resolute. They had never wavered, not even once.

"Mistilteinn belongs to Azier."

The words that silenced the room. They were clear and definitive as if a conclusion had been reached.

Quinnie let out a sigh.

She never expected the Lord of Roach to go to such lengths.

It can't be helped, it's time to back down. What can we do when he's offering to give up Gram?

There are other valuable items out there.

Everyone seemed to be following Enfer's lead.

Then, a voice as gentle as a blade of grass spoke out.

"There's no need for that, Father."

It was completely different from Enfer's voice, a comforting tone that felt like an everyday conversation.

However, the meaning behind those words was far from light.

The gap between the tone and the content was so great that everyone's reaction was a beat too slow.

"Frondeir, watch your words."

His older brother, Azier, warned him. Enfer also narrowed his eyes.

A simmering voice escaped Enfer's lips from deep within.

"Do you know what you're saying?"

"Of course."

Frondeir's voice remained calm, as if he was still unaware of the atmosphere.

Ludwig pushed his displeased face closer to Frondeir.

"Is this brat serious? The second son hidden away by Enfer."

For the first time, Ludwig directly looked into Frondier's face, which he had never cared to notice before.

It was a face of laziness and tranquility.

To put it nicely, that is. To put it bluntly, it reeked of laziness and negligence.

Could such a peaceful face really head into battle in the future?

"Kid, you don't understand what's going on and just barged in, huh?"

Frondier glanced at Ludwig's growling for a moment.

Just for a moment.

Then, he shifted his gaze to point at Mistilteinn.

"Father, there's no need to waste Gram on something that's not even genuine."

Ludwig was momentarily stunned by Frondier's words.

Is this a sign of disrespect towards me?

"How do you recklessly claim to know such things?"

"How I know, I cannot prove."

Frondier took a step forward.

With a step as natural as flowing water, as if he was leisurely going for a walk.

At the end of that peaceful stride, no one could feel certain that peace awaited.

He stood in front of the container and placed his hand on it.

"Verifying it is simple."

By the time he said that, everyone understood his intention.

They had been dreading it from the moment he stepped forward.

Enfer, Azier, Ortel, Elodie all moved simultaneously but stopped.

It was too late to stop Frondier. Nothing could surpass his lead now.

Unless they cut off his hand or killed him, perhaps.

"If that's truly a sacred relic, what will you do, aren't you afraid of the gods?"

Ludwig, flustered, his dialect became even more bizarre.

"Huh."

Frondier laughed. That laugh made the real atmosphere unclear and made everything around him seem languid.

"I have never been afraid of such things."

Crash───!!

The container shattered.