My Ex-Girlfriend Was Appointed as a Knight Commander

Chapter 126

For about a minute, the two remained frozen, silently facing each other. Thomas, having briefly stepped out to place a sword down, returned to see them standing as he’d left them and asked curiously,

"Do you two know each other? Or is there some bad blood between you? Why are you just standing there?"

The answer came quickly, from Theodora, who was the first to break free of the silence.

"No, we can’t really say we know each other. It’s just... we’re a little acquainted."

"Is that so? Then why don’t you spend some time getting to know each other while I finish your sword?"

"...Yes, understood."

Hearing Theodora’s hesitant reply, Thomas narrowed his eyes with a doubtful look but waved his hand as if to leave them to their own devices before heading back to his workspace.

"This is our first time meeting like this, isn’t it?"

Theodora’s words brought Maxime back to his senses. Although she had been momentarily caught off guard, Theodora quickly recovered and approached the chair Maxime was seated in. But inside, Maxime’s emotions burned far more intensely than hers.

"I’m Theodora Bening of the Crow Knights."

She didn’t regard him as an enemy. Maxime replied to her introduction with a dry voice.

"Arsen Bern, currently part of the Second Guard."

Theodora took a seat opposite Maxime, her gaze seeming to search his face intently. Maxime met her eyes, though somewhat listlessly. She finally looked away and placed her hands on the table.

"I watched your preliminary match."

Maxime nodded stiffly, like a wooden puppet. Though his response was awkward, Theodora didn’t seem bothered. Struggling to find a suitable response, Maxime gave up trying and spoke candidly.

"Thank you. You, too, are quite skilled. Your swordsmanship is formidable and elegant."

“...Thank you, though rumors tend to exaggerate. Sometimes I worry they’ve inflated too much."

Theodora’s expression turned bitter. Maxime realized she still hadn’t fully escaped the trauma from the war in the Wastelands.

"You know how public opinion can be for knights like us. Maybe you could just accept it?"

Maxime suggested carefully, but Theodora shook her head resolutely.

"No, I can’t. The Wastelands must remain a painful memory for me. I can’t walk around with my head high, wearing the titles people have freely given me as some kind of badge."

That day had been an unimaginable torment for her. Fighting off monsters while losing comrades, then losing someone dear to her in the chaos. A week after the war ended, despite warnings from Leon Bening, she had searched tirelessly for Maxime Apart and Christine Watson, only to receive a casualty report bearing their names.

Yet Theodora never accepted that report as truth. Until she could see with her own eyes, she couldn’t believe he was gone.

"...I apologize. I shouldn’t have meddled."

Maxime offered a bitter apology. Despite the grief left behind, Theodora had not broken. He wasn’t sure if he should feel grateful or sorrowful for that. She gave him a faint smile, shaking her head.

"No, this is my burden to bear. I can’t afford to stay downtrodden forever."

In the background, the sound of intense sharpening continued. Silence fell between them. Maxime stared at the table, unwilling to disturb the quiet. It wasn’t awkward—rather, it was difficult for him to endure. He wanted to speak, to tell her the truth, to say that it wasn’t her fault, that he was all right.

"...Why are you here at this workshop?"

Theodora broke the silence with a question. Maxime, nervously tapping his fingers, looked up.

"I came to commission a new sword. My current one is worn out, and it might not last through the finals."

"Do you visit this workshop often?"

Maxime shook his head.

"No... it’s my first time. A friend recommended it to me, so I ended up here by chance."

Theodora’s eyes widened in surprise.

"The master took on a new customer?"

Maxime raised an eyebrow at her reaction, puzzled. The First Prince had only mentioned the reputation of the blacksmith and the workshop’s location, saying, ‘If it’s you, he’ll take you as a client,’ but hadn’t shared further details.

"Is that such a big deal?"

‘One thing is certain, though: the person you’re searching for is very likely alive. They might be in hiding, erasing their trail to avoid being found.’

‘Just share any lead you have, however small.’

‘If they’re intentionally concealing themselves, your search could endanger them. Please be patient. We’ll resume the search if the interference subsides.’

Theodora approached the workshop door once more, glancing at its closed entrance. Realizing she had acted impulsively, she decided she should apologize. With a sigh, she turned back toward the workshop.

"...Did he leave?"

The forge’s heat seemed to intensify. She looked around the empty space, then heard footsteps approaching from the back. Thomas, seeing Theodora’s return, raised a brow.

"Weren’t you leaving?"

"Yes. I just stepped out for some fresh air."

"I see. Well, you returned at the right time. Your sword is ready."

He held up her blade. Taking it, Theodora unsheathed it briefly. The blade of her Black Wolf gleamed with its deep, quiet menace. She nodded in satisfaction.

"Thank you."

"No need to thank me. That sword is a masterpiece. I’ll gladly repair it for free anytime."

Her business at the workshop was complete. Just as she was about to leave, she paused.

"Where’s Arsen?"

"I told him to stoke the forge in the corner since he looked like he was moping. He’s probably over there now, blowing on the bellows."

Thomas gestured towards the corner of the workshop.

"Why, were you going to say goodbye?"

Theodora frowned, seeming to ponder the idea before shaking her head. In her current state of confusion, she couldn’t bring herself to face him again. Perhaps once her thoughts were clearer, she would.

"No... I think I’ll go now."

"...Alright. If you ever need another sharpening, feel free to return."

With a small nod to Thomas, Theodora left. Thomas watched her go, certain there was more between her and his new client than they let on. He wouldn’t pry, though—his age and experience had taught him better, and Maxime’s expression had told him all he needed to know.

‘Still sulking, I imagine.’

Thomas clicked his tongue and returned to his work. To his surprise, the black-haired knight was no longer sulking but concentrating on the forge, sweat trickling down his face as he worked.

"That’s enough for now."

Maxime halted his work, wiping the sweat from his brow. The forge glowed fiercely, filling the room with heat. Originally, Thomas had planned to start reforging Maxime’s sword tomorrow, but, inspired by his work on Theodora’s weapon, he decided to begin immediately.

"I’ll start reforging your sword now."

Maxime looked up at Thomas, who had already drawn the blade from its scabbard and was inspecting it.

"I plan to use mithril—white steel. Your sword’s been through a lot, but the aura it carries isn’t just from the foes you’ve slain. It has a purity about it, closer to the holy or sacred than to a cursed or demonic blade."

Thomas picked up a refined mithril ingot, tapping it lightly.

"Can you imagine what it will look like when it’s reborn?"

Maxime gazed at the sword in Thomas’s hands, picturing the gleaming white blade. A name struck him like lightning.

"White Fang."

The name slipped from Maxime’s lips, and Thomas laughed heartily. The name recalled the blade that Theodora had just taken with her.

"Already naming it, are we?"

"...It just came to me, nothing more."

A blade forged of dark iron, a black wolf, and a new white fang of mithril.

Whether it was mere coincidence or a sign of some deeper connection, Thomas looked forward to seeing the stories these two swords would create as he placed Maxime’s blade into the forge.