Chapter Four: At a Loss

Many people know some hidden features of their lovers' bodies, such as a mole in a secret spot, a hidden scar, or a small birthmark in an unspeakable area...

But very few can clearly know the precise "dimensions" of their lover, even if those "dimensions" have been touched and played with by their own hands...

'Steel Bride' was the name of Bartlett's sword, but the name wasn't given by him, but by a dwarf partner he once had.

Even though the sharp-tongued dwarf meant to mock him - for always sticking to his sword and the focus he displayed when polishing it - Bartlett still thought it was a good name. Yes, it was a fitting name for both him and his longsword.

Bartlett cherished his 'Bride' very much, for she had accompanied him since he came of age.

'Steel Bride' was a gift from Bartlett's father when he grew up. The sword wasn't a divine weapon but an ordinary Nord-style longsword. Although the blacksmith who made it had a bit of fame in the town, most of that fame was in forging battleaxes.

But young Bartlett wasn't as strong as he is now. He was inexperienced and frail at the time, unable to wield a double-edged battleaxe commonly used by Nordic people.

Bartlett knew his 'Bride' very well. This was not only because they had spent a considerable amount of time together, but also due to the upbringing he received in his youth.

"A good warrior should understand his weapon as well as he understands his own appetite," Bartlett's father - Magnus Montague, a retired ex-Nord Royal Guard - used to tell him.

That bearded middle-aged man would teach young Bartlett martial arts while talking to him about the delicacies of Norde, or demonstrate attack and retreat steps while rolling sausages and pickles in thin pancakes.

"Move sideways as steady as a crab, first touch the ground with your toes, then land on your sole!" This was Bartlett's father teaching him movement techniques during combat. If you ignored the rolled thin pancakes in old Mungo's hands, the strict posture and serious eyes were quite intimidating.

However, right after that, "The best way to eat a crab is to steam it and drizzle a drop of plum vinegar on the orange-yellow crab roe. The taste, hmmm..." The serious gaze turned into a longing for good food, completely disregarding the confusion on young Bartlett's face.

Anyway, Bartlett was able to survive to this day and develop good habits of maintaining and using his weapon. Old Mungo's unique teaching method certainly plays an indispensable part.

Bartlett had been using this sword for nearly twenty years, and sometimes he could feel his blood running through his hand, flowing across the entire sword, and then flowing back into his body. He and his sword were mutually blending with each other.

He could even close his eyes and, by just a touch of his fingers, easily find his 'Bride' among hundreds of similar Nord-style longswords.

But even so, he could not accurately describe the specific details of the sword, because that kind of 'understanding' was more of a feeling rather than detailed data description, and even less able to express the data in such a bizarre way. In fact, Bartlett didn't think anyone could do that.

Except for wizards.

No, even wizards, even though they can write text in the air using magic ink and let those floating words be preserved forever, can't directly imprint the meaning of the unreadable text into people's minds, they can't.

Bartlett actually wanted to seek help from some all-powerful wizards, and he had a few good wizard friends. One of the wizards was only a 7-day carriage ride from here, and if he asked him, it was very likely that it could help Bartlett's current situation, very likely!

But the Barbarian Adventurer didn't dare do that. He was afraid that his wizard friend would take him to the Magic Association for some mysterious research not known to outsiders.

Wizards mostly had odd ways of doing things and were more curious than rabbits in heat that had taken aphrodisiacs. Yes, that was how Bartlett saw it. Rabbits might need to rest due to physical reasons, but wizards wouldn't.

Adventurers would often talk about some absurd behaviors of wizards when they were bored:

Some say that they know of a mage who goes alone to the cemetery to sing on every full moon night, with even some invisible 'things' clapping for the mage; others say they have witnessed a mage turning a mouse into a voluptuous beauty; even more outrageous claims involve a mage installing a donkey's penis on someone...

These seemingly absurd events are not just rumors. At least among the mages that Bartlett knows, one has turned his right hand into an octopus tentacle covered in suction cups and, after using it for a few days, changed it back due to it being constantly wet.

"Never try to understand a mage's actions, even if you are a mage yourself." This widely-circulated proverb on the continent succinctly illustrates the point.

If those weirdos knew about Bartlett's situation, the Barbarian reckons they might crack open his skull excitedly and take a closer look to see if any miraculous mutations have occurred inside, or put his head on a goblin's body to see if the text still appears, or extract his soul from his body and search through it bit by bit using magic.

Of course, before conducting these experiments, the mages would have Bartlett sign an "voluntary" participation statement.

Bartlett doesn't understand magic because he has no talent and can't become a mage. All he knows is that magic is amazing, convenient, and, above all, dangerous.

The Barbarian adventurer closed his eyes and sighed deeply. As long as he intensely stares at the longsword, it won't be long before the mysterious text appears naturally. But when he closes his eyes or moves his gaze away from the longsword, even for a moment, the translucent text disappears like a cloud of smoke.

He also tried to make the text appear with Riley present, but she showed no reaction. Knowing the girl, Bartlett doesn't believe she could keep a straight face and not ask questions after seeing something so strange given her somewhat naughty character. She doesn't have that kind of cunning.

It seems that I am the only one who can see these strange characters, Bartlett thought.

He took out a fiery red feather from the cowhide bag, which he didn't know had come from some bird but had found by chance in a Gnoll den during an adventurous outing. An adventurer's intuition told him that the feather could be sold for a few 'Gold Kings' no matter who those 'kings' belonged to.

Bartlett took a deep breath and began to concentrate on the red feather.

It was a bit heavier in the palm of his hand than he had expected, the feather shaft was completely transparent, with only a little white color gradient at the base. The entire feather reflected a metallic sheen in the sunlight, as if molten iron was flowing inside.

Time passed bit by bit, and after an unknown interval, Bartlett's eyes began to feel dry and sore. He resisted the urge to blink because doing so would 'displease' the text. Only by staring unblinkingly could the characters possibly reveal themselves.

With sheer willpower, Bartlett forced himself to keep his eyes locked on the feather. Finally, the oddly-structured, blocky text made its appearance once more:

[Flame Dragonhawk Feather: Right wing tip feather from a mature male Flame Dragonhawk. The feather is 32.6 centimeters long, 5.2 centimeters wide, and contains trace amounts of flame element. — Beauty is for reproducing.]

A Flame Dragonhawk? Bartlett had only heard of it but never seen one, and he had no idea where they could be found. At least they didn't live in the 'Foggy Forest' near Pig Bay. They probably didn't.

And then there's that last cryptic sentence, as if offering some incomprehensible commentary on the item but also simply poking fun at it.

Who or what is conveying this information to him, Bartlett has no idea.

Or perhaps this information has always existed in this world, and it is some change within the Barbarian that has allowed him to perceive it? Bartlett is baffled.

As the Barbarian adventurer uses this unknown change to continue observing various items, a tiny deep purplish lightning mark flashes and disappears at the junction between his cervical vertebrae and skull as if it had never been there.

...