Building a territory wasn’t all that difficult—so long as you had enough manpower. After that evening, over a dozen weapons were damaged beyond repair. Any repairs or repcements immediately brought up the same name: the "idiot" of the ducal family—Bran. Though the boy clearly had talent in certain areas, his habit of giving away legendary weapons at whim made people doubt his sanity. Still, for everyone's sake, such talk could no longer be made in the open.

  Bran posted the design pns for the estate on the castle gate, then stood nearby staring bnkly at the parchment, waiting for knights to approach him. His bck cat, Huahua, loyally accompanied him, half-dozing with narrowed eyes. A tall figure eventually blocked the sunlight from Bran's face, rousing him. Bran looked up and saw the knight who once wielded a massive two-handed sword. He opened his mouth, only to realize he had no idea what the man’s name was. Truth be told, Bran could count on his fingers the number of people whose names he remembered. Like butterflies and dragonflies—why would you bother with names? A knight was just… a knight.

  The rge knight was somewhat speechless at Bran’s reaction. Nodding slightly, he spoke, “I am Aysa. I represent the other knights. We hope to build your estate in exchange for new weapons.”

  Bran looked up at the tall man. “How many people?”

  “Twenty-three,” Aysa replied after a slight hesitation.

  Bran rolled his eyes. “Any conditions?”

  “Nothing less than the quality of the birthday bde.”

  “Impossible,” Bran replied immediately with a shrug. Then he expined, “Materials. The quality of a sword is rgely determined by materials, followed by craftsmanship. If you give me your broken sword, I can forge it into something better than it was before. But I can’t recreate the birthday sword without equivalent materials.”

  Aysa smiled. “We do have materials. Most of us Northerners are half-decent bcksmiths, so we’ve collected rare scraps we couldn’t process or couldn’t bear to waste. We can hand those over to you.”

  Bran thought for a moment. “Fine. First, hand over your broken weapons. I’ll repair them and return them, guaranteed better than before. Then give me your materials, and I’ll try making something better. But I’ll say this upfront—materials must be plentiful, and the leftover scraps are mine. Also, I can’t promise how quickly I’ll finish a new weapon. Even with magic, there’s a learning curve. I need finished examples to understand and control new materials.”

  “Of course,” Aysa responded readily. “You’ll get plenty, and anything leftover is yours.”

  “Alright. We'll discuss details individually during the repairs.”

  The next day, Bran looked at the pile of weapons in front of him and compined, “I don’t have space for all this junk.” He then had a very annoyed Aysa carry everything back. They agreed that from tomorrow onward, one knight would visit each day with their weapons for Bran to repair—one at a time.

  On the first day of repairs, Bran had Aysa demonstrate his two-handed sword techniques. Bran and Dany took the opportunity to study for free, ciming it was “to understand the user's habits better.” Then Bran, with a totally serious face, told Aysa, “I’ll think about it and talk to you this afternoon.”

  At noon, Bran grinned and asked Dany, “So? How’s Aysa’s swordpy? Learn anything?”

  Dany raised a brow. “Weren’t you adjusting the bance and comfort?”

  Bran grinned slyly. “He’s used that sword for years. He’s already adapted to its weight and shape. Any changes would feel wrong. So I just glued it back together. A weapon’s most important quality is…”

  “Inner integrity,” Dany finished, ughing.

  Thanks to Bran, Dany also took the chance to ask Aysa all kinds of questions about greatsword techniques. Bran even helped demonstrate slow-motion drills. After dragging things out for a few days, Bran finally completed the sword in Aysa’s presence. Aysa tried it and, overjoyed, thanked Bran profusely.

  From there, Bran applied the same strategy to the rest of the knights. In that easygoing but slightly tense learning environment, three to four months flew by. Both Bran and Dany gained substantial understanding of martial arts.

  As for the territory itself, Bran had become a hands-off overseer, barely caring about the progress. Aysa kept urging him to start on the new weapons, but Bran just cimed there was no pce to store materials, so he’d only begin after the estate was complete.

  Everyone now knew that anything made by Bran was a masterpiece. Thus, nearly all the castle’s knights eagerly joined the construction effort, helping to build Bran’s tiny patch of nd.

  With enough hands, even with poor conditions, the work was efficient. These Northerners could fight on horseback and build homes off it. When the first snowfke fell, the estate was complete. Except for the ornamental railings Bran designed—which he agreed to finish slowly on his own.

  Bran’s attic was built with heated walls and a traditional fire bed. It would be a warm winter—warmer than the castle. After completion, Bran insisted on moving into the new estate, only agreeing to return to the castle for dinner due to his parents' request.

  On the same day the estate was finished, the knights delivered all their rare materials to Bran’s storehouse and left content.

  Though the estate was tiny, it was still far too big for just two people, a cat, and two horses. That night, after nearly a year of “suffering” living with Dany, Bran had just gotten used to sleeping alone again. He woke up in the middle of the night, shivering, and shamelessly ran to Dany’s room. Only after crawling into her arms did he fall back asleep.

  The next morning, Dany gave him a look that was somewhere between a smile and a smirk. Bran began to miss the castle—its thick stone walls, the burly maids, the brutish knights—everything felt so safe. Here, there was only him, Huahua, and Dany.

  Idealism was warm. Reality was cold. Bran regretted everything. He wanted to run back to the castle he’d once wanted to escape.

  Feeling dejected, Bran shouted, “Dany, you should go patrol our territory!”

  Dany snorted. “My lord, shouldn’t you be inviting your loyal retainer to breakfast first?”

  They stared at each other. Clearly, neither had thought about food. They had left the castle full of excitement with nothing but their bedrolls—fully convinced they’d never go back.

  Now faced with looming hunger, the two quickly geared up for their first-ever territory patrol: a hunting trip.

  Riding through the chilly wind, Dany sat on horseback with Bran in her arms and Huahua squatting on the saddle. Bran muttered, “Dany, this life is unbearable.”

  “Want to go back to the castle?”

  “Too embarrassing.”

  The two sighed in unison…

  Fortunately, their luck held. After hours of wandering, they returned with two rabbits and a pheasant. The pheasant was Huahua’s kill—now nearly a meter long and close to full-grown lynx size. Roaming the outskirts of the castle with Dany had clearly awakened the beast within.