Strongest Kingdom: My Op Kingdom Got Transported Along With Me Chapter 235 - 237: The Smith Xansen

Alix’s voice is calm, unhurried. "To tell you the truth... I don’t really need anything."

Velkain raises a brow slightly. "No?"

Alix leans back slightly in the chair, resting an arm along the side. "Velira told there’s soone in Ironvale. A smith. She said he’s capable of forging a Quasi Tier 6 weapon."

Velkain exhales through his nose. "Ah. So that’s what you’re after." He gives a short nod. "Are you planning to request sothing from him?"

"Yeah."

Velkain chuckles. "I thought so. Well, you’re not wrong—he’s a rare talent. One of the finest craftsn I’ve ever t. But I’ll be honest with you, Alix... he’s not part of the clan."

Alix’s gaze doesn’t change. "That a problem?"

"Not exactly," Velkain says with a shrug. "But it ans I can’t order him around. Believe —we’ve tried. We’ve offered him land, titles, a seat on the council. Man just shrugged and told us he doesn’t to join any forces."

"Yet he’s still here."

"He is," Velkain confirms. "Been living quietly in my territory for the past decade. Says he likes the mountains. Helps us out when he feels like it—though he’s never succeeded in forging a true Tier 6. Always stops just short. Says sothing’s ’missing.’"

He waves a hand. "I’m rambling now. Point is—you can et him if you want. I’ll send soone to take you to his forge."

There’s a short pause, then Velkain leans forward slightly, his tone turning sincere.

"But let ask you again. You really don’t want anything else? No favor? No wealth? No na, no title? You saved my wife’s life. That’s not sothing we forget."

Alix simply shakes his head once. "I’m good."

Velkain studies him for a beat longer. Then, slowly, he nods.

"Then at least take this."

He reaches into a drawer and produces a small, polished token. It’s obsidian black, shaped like a fang, and engraved with the Ashedge sigil in bright crimson. He places it gently on the desk between them.

"This marks you as an Honored Guest of the Ashedge Clan," Velkain says. "Wherever you go in our territory, this will speak for you. Soldiers, rchants, they’ll treat you like a VIP. You may not want a reward, but... this is respect. And I insist."

Alix looks at the token for a mont.

Then he reaches forward and picks it up.

"I’ll take it."

Velkain gives a slow, satisfied nod.

"Good. Then we’ll leave it at that."

He straightens and steps back toward the window, folding his arms behind him.

"I’ll have soone escort you to his place. If anyone can craft what you’re looking for... it’s him."

Alix rises from the chair and tucks the token into a hidden pocket inside his coat. Then he looks at Velkain with a calm, even tone.

"Can I go there alone? Just tell where to find him."

Velkain pauses, eyeing Alix for a mont—then nods. "I figured you’d ask that."

He steps over to a nearby shelf, pulls out a rolled parchnt, and quickly sketches a rough map across the back of it with a bit of charcoal. His lines are clean, practiced.

"He lives up in the Hollowspine Range," Velkain says, tapping a point on the map. "Take the east road out of Ironvale until it forks at the old mill. You’ll want the narrower trail—don’t get fooled by the wider one. Climb about two hours. You’ll see a stone arch and a burned-out oak. His forge is built right into the cliffside just past it."

Alix studies the map, then nods once.

Velkain exhales and leans an arm against the desk. "His na’s Xansen. And just a warning... he’s not the friendliest man alive. Grumpy old bastard, speaks like he’s chewing rocks. But if he likes you, he’ll talk."

"Good enough," Alix says.

Velkain gives a dry chuckle. "He doesn’t care about status or favors. Doesn’t even care that I’m a clan leader. You show up with sincerity—or skill—he’ll hear you out."

Alix turns toward the door.

"I’ll head out now."

Velkain nods once. "Then I’ll leave it to you."

----

Alix follows the winding mountain path for nearly two hours, the air growing thinner and cooler as he climbs. When he reaches the burned-out oak and steps through the stone arch, the world opens onto a narrow ledge carved into the cliffside.

Before him is a simple wooden door set into the rock—blackened at the edges by fla, with no sign or banner to mark it. A single iron ring hangs where a handle would be.

Alix gives it a firm twist and steps inside.

The forge is surprisingly modest. A single hearth burns low, embers glowing beneath a heavy bellows. Tools—hamrs, tongs, files—hang from rough wooden pegs on stone walls streaked with soot.

A wide worktable stands to one side, covered in tal scraps, folded scrolls of design sketches, and a half-finished blade that flickers with faint runic lines.

A man sits on a low stool beside the hearth, back turned. His broad shoulders are draped in a leather apron, hair tied into a short, grizzled braid. The rhythm of his hamr on anvil is slow, deliberate.

Alix clears his throat.

The smith’s hamr pauses.

He turns, and Alix sees a face lined by years of fla and tal—dark eyes that burn with intensity.

"Xansen?" Alix asks.

Xansen’s brow furrows in confusion. He sets his hamr aside and folds his arms, eyeing Alix with suspicion.

"Kid," he says, voice low and rough, "how did you find this place? Did the Ashedge Clan make my location public?"

He tssks, shaking his head. "Leave, kid. I’m busy right now."

Alix doesn’t flinch. He reaches into his coat and pulls out the obsidian token Velkain gave him, holding it out by the edge.

"They didn’t make your location public," Alix says evenly. "I’m here because I requested to see you."

Xansen’s eyes narrow as he recognizes the sigil. He leans forward, studying the token, then laughs softly.

"Oh," he mutters. "That’s... quite impressive. You have their Honored Guest token."

He straightens and gives Alix a sharp look. "Kid, if you want to request I forge you sothing—you’re out of luck. I’m busy right now. Co back next week."

Alix’s gaze is unwavering. "I’m not here to request." He steps closer to the hearth’s glow. "What if I told you I can help you forge a Tier 6 weapon?"

Xansen freezes, his eyes widening for the first ti. Then, abruptly, he throws back his head and laughs—loud, booming, as if Alix has just recited the world’s greatest joke. "Ha! You? Help ? Forge a Tier 6?"

He shakes his head, still chuckling. "You’ve got balls, kid. I’ll give you that."

In an instant, a heavy to shimrs into existence in Alix’s hand, pages fanning open on their own. The sudden crackle of arcane energy makes Xansen’s eyes snap wide, and he stumbles backward, the laughter dying in his throat.

Alix holds the book aloft, leather binding embossed with a single rune. "This," he says, voice calm and even, "is a Tier 6 smithing technique."

Xansen’s dark eyes burn with sudden greed as he leans forward, but the mont he does, a wave of pressure slams into him—cold, rciless, undeniable. His breath catches. He glances at Alix, then gulps.

"That... that can’t be," Xansen mutters, voice trembling. "Your presence... it’s like standing before Velkain himself." His lips part in shock. "You’re not just a kid."

Alix steps forward, the air seeming to stiffen around him. "Now," he says softly, "are you ready to talk?"

Xansen swallows, eyes darting between the book and Alix’s unyielding gaze. With a slow nod, the smith straightens his apron. "Alright," he rasps. "Let’s talk."

Xansen wipes sweat from his brow and motions toward a battered stool. "Well? What do you want?"

Alix steps into the hearth’s glow. "Just as I said outside. I can help you forge a true Tier 6 weapon—but on one condition."

Xansen’s dark eyes narrow. "Na it."

Alix ets his gaze evenly. "You join my kingdom. Your skill would be invaluable to —and in return, I’ll ensure you have every resource you need."

For a long mont, Xansen is silent—hamr in hand, brow furrowed in thought. Finally he sets the tool aside and shakes his head. "You know I told myself never to join any force. I work alone."

He gestures to the half-finished blade on the table. "Without help, with only the Tier 5 technique I found when I was young, I managed to forge that"—he taps the runic glow—"a Quasi Tier 6 weapon. I’ve been doing fine on my own."