Chapter 45: The Sword, the Archmage, and My Terrible Fate

[Luceille’s POV — Ashcroft Territory — One Week Later]

TA-DAAAAAAAAAA!!!

The Divine Dragon Sword had finally returned to Ashcroft!

After an entire week of waiting, Ilum had arrived at Ashcroft Manor carrying the legendary blade he had taken back to the elven village for cleaning and restoration. The moment he placed the sword in my palms, it gleamed so brilliantly that I nearly went blind.

SHINEEEEE!!!!

Good heavens. Was this a legendary weapon or a portable sun? Someone needed to inform the Divine Dragon that its personal lighting system was working a little too well.

The blade itself looked magnificent.

Its surface was polished to a smooth, silvery sheen, with ancient golden markings running along its length. They seemed almost invisible when I looked at them directly, but whenever the light struck the blade, the symbols shimmered faintly, as though something sleeping beneath the metal had opened one eye to acknowledge my presence.

The sword vibrated softly in my hands.

For a moment, the air around me felt different. Warm, familiar, and something brushed against the edge of my consciousness, so faint that I couldn’t tell whether it was a voice, a memory, or my imagination playing tricks on me.

Then the sensation disappeared.

I stared at the blade; the blade stared back.

Metaphorically, obviously.

I sincerely hoped it didn’t possess actual eyes. I had enough problems without having to make eye contact with my weapons.

"Lady Luceille," Ilum said solemnly, standing beside me in the office, "the Divine Dragon’s blade has been restored to its former glory. The elven craftsmen worked day and night to remove the corrosion and reveal the ancient inscriptions. However, its true power remains dormant until you awaken it."

I nodded with the seriousness of a person who understood approximately thirty percent of what he had just said.

"Wonderful. Thank you, Ilum. You all worked so hard."

Ilum bowed, his expression brightening at my praise. Then, as though remembering something far more important than the legendary weapon in my hands, his gaze drifted toward the corner of the office.

There, three white fox beasts were lounging on a thick carpet.

Their fluffy tails swayed lazily as they watched us, their bright eyes following every movement in the room. One of them had its head resting on another’s back, while the smallest was busy chewing on a toy Mia had brought for them.

Ilum stared, and his emerald eyes sparkled.

Oh, no...I knew that expression.

It was the exact expression of someone who had discovered a treasure chest containing a thousand gold coins. Except, in Ilum’s case, the treasure chest had fluffy ears and a tail.

"They’re even more beautiful up close," he whispered.

One fox lifted its head. Ilum leaned forward and looked as though he might spontaneously combust from happiness.

I tightened my grip on the Divine Dragon Sword. "Ilum, please don’t try to kidnap my children."

"I would never, Lady Luceille!" he protested immediately, straightening his back. "I merely wish to observe them."

"That’s what people say before they steal something."

"I am an elf, not a thief!"

"That sounds exactly like something a thief would say."

Ilum opened his mouth, seemingly preparing to defend the moral reputation of his entire species, but a low, amused voice interrupted us.

"Are we finished discussing the criminal tendencies of elves?"

I turned.

Cassian sat behind his desk, his ocean-blue eyes fixed on the sword in my hands. He had been unusually quiet since Ilum arrived, watching the proceedings with the expression of a man who had agreed to tolerate a circus because his wife happened to be one of the performers.

He studied the blade for several seconds before delivering his verdict.

"It looks ordinary."

Silence.

I looked at the sword.

My husband had just insulted a legendary weapon forged from the remains of a divine dragon.

Somewhere, an ancient dragon spirit was probably reconsidering its life choices.

Ilum, however, didn’t look offended. He simply turned toward Cassian, his expression becoming serious as he explained, "That is precisely what makes the Divine Dragon’s blade extraordinary, Your Grace. Its true power is not revealed through its appearance. To anyone else, it may resemble an ordinary sword, but when it touches the Master’s hand, the power of the Divine Dragon flows through it."

He paused, allowing his words to settle.

"Only the chosen Master can wield the Divine Blade and awaken its true abilities. Anyone else who attempts to use it will find that its power remains inaccessible."

Cassian’s gaze shifted from Ilum to me. "Then she can begin practicing with it once she becomes proficient with a wooden sword."

My soul left my body.

It didn’t even say goodbye.

"WHAT?"

Cassian looked at me calmly. "What?"

"Did you just hear yourself?!" I clutched the Divine Dragon Sword to my chest. "This is a legendary weapon! A weapon associated with an ancient Divine Dragon! And your first thought is to add it to my training schedule?"

"Yes."

"You’re supposed to be impressed!"

"I am."

"You look like you’re reviewing a particularly disappointing vegetable!"

His expression remained perfectly composed. "Would you prefer that I throw a celebration?"

I considered it.

A grand banquet. Fireworks. A golden throne. Perhaps a parade in which the citizens of Ashcroft carried me through the streets while chanting my name.

Actually, that sounded reasonable.

"Yes," I said firmly. "A celebration would be appropriate."

"No."

"YOU DIDN’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!"

"I did. The answer is still no."

I groaned and slumped against the nearest chair, clutching my sword like an abandoned princess in a tragic historical drama.

My husband, meanwhile, appeared entirely satisfied with his decision.

Cruelty. Absolute cruelty.

The man had the emotional range of a well-organized filing cabinet whenever training was involved.

Unfortunately, the universe wasn’t finished bullying me because while I was busy mourning my peaceful future, Aurelius Vaelmont had finally decided to make his presence known.

The Archmage had been standing near the opposite side of the desk, staring at the Divine Dragon Sword with an expression that made me deeply concerned for the safety of my belongings.

His eyes followed every inch of the blade.

He leaned to the left, then to the right, and then he took two slow steps closer.

I watched him warily.

"Aurelius."

"Hmm?"

"Why are you looking at my sword like that?"

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he circled the blade with his hands clasped behind his back, his silver eyes narrowing as he examined the inscriptions. His usual scholarly curiosity had intensified into something far more alarming.

Imagine a hungry kitten that had discovered someone holding a bowl of fish.

Now imagine that kitten had spent several hundred years studying forbidden magic and possessed enough power to accidentally destroy a mountain.

That was Aurelius at that moment.

"Fascinating," he murmured. "Truly fascinating."

He leaned closer.

"May I examine it?"

"No."

"Only for a moment?"

"No."

"I won’t touch it."

"You just asked to examine it!"

"Observation and physical contact are entirely different academic activities, Your Highness—" He stopped, corrected himself, and smiled at me. "Lady Luceille."

I narrowed my eyes.

"You’re not fooling anyone."

His smile widened.

Oh, that smile.

I hated that smile. It was the smile of a man who had already devised seventeen experiments, six of which were probably illegal, and was currently trying to persuade his test subject to sign the consent form.

Cassian’s voice cut through the room.

"Archmage."

Aurelius straightened.

"Your Grace?"

"Stop circling my wife."

"I was circling the sword."

"Both are standing in the same place."

Aurelius blinked, then glanced between Cassian and me as though he had only just discovered a fascinating new political phenomenon.

"Ah."

He stepped back.

"Of course."

I pressed my lips together to stop myself from laughing. My husband was jealous of an archmage’s academic curiosity.

This marriage was becoming increasingly entertaining.

Aurelius, however, had apparently decided that retreating physically did not mean surrendering intellectually. He reached into the inner pocket of his robe and produced a small notebook. The sight of it made my blood run cold.

I had seen that notebook before. It was where he wrote down all the questions that would eventually ruin my afternoon.

"Lady Luceille," he began, flipping to a clean page, "I have several questions."

"How many is several?"

"That depends on your answers."

"That’s not a number!"

"Precisely. Research is rarely so conveniently limited."

I stared at him.

Cassian pinched the bridge of his nose.

Aurelius, blissfully unaffected by the suffering he inflicted upon those around him, lifted his pen.

"First, when the sword was placed in your hands, did you experience any physical changes? A sudden increase in mana circulation, unusual warmth, dizziness, a feeling of pressure in your chest, or perhaps the sensation of another consciousness brushing against your own?"

My smile vanished.

I hesitated.

That last question was uncomfortably specific.

"I felt something," I admitted. "It was warm. Like... something was acknowledging me. But it disappeared almost immediately."

Aurelius stopped writing.

For the first time since he had entered the room, his expression lost its playful quality.

"Something was acknowledging you?"

"I think so. I’m not entirely sure how to explain it."

He lowered his notebook slightly.

"Did you hear a voice?"

My fingers tightened around the hilt.

"No. Not exactly."

"Did you see anything?"

"No."

"Did the inscriptions glow?"

"I think they did."

"Think?"

"Well, Aurelius, I wasn’t exactly carrying a clipboard and recording observations while holding a legendary sword that could probably split a mountain in half!"

"An oversight," he murmured, writing something down.

"EXCUSE ME?"

He ignored my outrage and continued, his eyes brightening once more. "When you discovered the blade in the Northern Forest, did it react to your touch immediately? Or did the reaction begin only after you removed it from the earth?"

"How am I supposed to remember every detail? I was being chased by a tiny snake!"

"A snake?"

"A VERY AGGRESSIVE SNAKE."

"It was a small white snake," Cassian corrected from behind his desk.

I turned to him in betrayal.

"Whose side are you on?!"

"Yours."

"Then why are you defending the snake?"

"I’m describing it accurately."

I stared at my husband.

Sometimes, I wondered whether the Divine Dragon had chosen me because I was special or because it had watched my life from somewhere beyond the heavens and decided I needed additional suffering.

Aurelius tapped his pen against his notebook, drawing my attention back to him.

"One more question. When you hold the blade, do you sense any difference between your own mana and the power contained within it?"

I glanced down at the sword.

The golden inscriptions shimmered faintly beneath my fingers.

"I... don’t know. It feels like the sword recognizes me. But I can’t tell whether the power inside it is responding to my mana or something else."

Aurelius’s expression sharpened.

"Something else?"

"Yes."

"What could that something else be?"

"HOW WOULD I KNOW? I’M THE ONE WHO’S ASKING FOR ANSWERS!"

For a moment, he looked genuinely disappointed, then his lips curved into that dangerously innocent smile again.

"That is precisely why we must investigate."

I slowly lowered the sword.

There it was.

The sentence that had ruined countless peaceful days throughout the history of scientific discovery. We must investigate, never trust a person who says that while holding a notebook.

Never.

Especially if that person is an Archmage.

Aurelius closed his notebook with a decisive snap. "We should begin with a controlled examination. Nothing invasive, naturally. I would merely like to observe the blade’s response to your mana, measure its magical fluctuations, compare its inscriptions with ancient elven records, and determine whether the consciousness of the Divine Dragon remains within the weapon."

I stared at him.

"Did you just say consciousness?"

"Yes."

"As in... an actual consciousness?"

"Possibly."

"As in, there’s a chance my sword has a dragon living inside it?"

"That is one interpretation."

I looked down at the blade. Then I looked at Aurelius, then I looked at Cassian, who had finally set aside the documents on his desk.

"No," I declared.

Aurelius blinked. "No?"

"No experiments. No examinations. No magical measuring devices. And absolutely no trying to wake up the dragon until someone explains whether it can talk, breathe fire, or demand rent for living inside my sword!"

Cassian’s mouth twitched.

Aurelius, unfortunately, looked delighted.

"An extraordinary question. If the dragon’s consciousness has survived within the blade, it is entirely possible that it retains some form of communication. Whether it can manifest a physical body is another matter, although the relationship between divine mana and spiritual—"

"STOP MAKING IT WORSE!"

He fell silent.

For approximately two seconds.

Then he asked, "Would you permit me to prepare a list of preliminary tests?"

I buried my face in my free hand.

"Popcorn-eating god, if you’re watching, I would like to formally request a refund on this life."

"Who are you speaking to?" Cassian asked.

"No one. My imaginary supervisor."

"Tell your supervisor that you still have sword practice tomorrow."

I lifted my head slowly, the office went quiet and even the white fox beasts seemed to pause their activities.

"...Tomorrow?"

Cassian nodded. "At the usual hour."

I looked at the Divine Dragon Sword in my hands.

A legendary blade. An ancient power. A possible dragon consciousness and somehow, none of those things had managed to save me from my husband’s training schedule.

I had transmigrated into a fantasy novel, married a terrifying Grand Duke, tamed magical beasts, discovered a mana-stone lake, befriended elves, and apparently become the chosen wielder of a Divine Dragon’s weapon.

Yet my greatest enemy remained a wooden sword.

Truly, the plot had a sick sense of humor before I could launch another protest, the blade suddenly grew warm in my hands.

The golden inscriptions lit up.

One symbol.

Then another.

A low vibration passed through the hilt, traveling into my palm and up my arm. The air inside the office grew strangely heavy, and the white fox beasts rose from the carpet almost simultaneously.

Their ears pointed toward the sword.

Aurelius stopped breathing.

Cassian was on his feet before I could even blink, moving toward me with one hand reaching for my shoulder.

"Luceille?"

I couldn’t answer.

Because this time, I felt it clearly.

Something ancient stirred beneath the surface of the blade. Something vast. Something that had been sleeping for a very, very long time and then, from somewhere deep inside my mind, a voice whispered.

"At last... I have found you."

My blood turned cold, the sword flashed with blinding golden light. Aurelius’s notebook slipped from his fingers and struck the floor.

For once in his life, the Archmage appeared to have forgotten every question he had ever wanted to ask.

Cassian pulled me closer, his gaze fixed on the glowing blade and I stood frozen in my husband’s arms, staring at the weapon I had been so excited to receive only moments ago.

Because I had a terrible feeling that my peaceful life had just been cancelled, again.