The Hero and the Guillotine
The Hero and the Guillotine
For once, the process of walking past the invariably crowded weapon shop and entering the workshop went off without a hitch. Though, as Siegfried had said, it was as if we were being treated like VIP customers—the staff guided us so courteously that I had to feel a bit sheepish under the stares of the other patrons.
In one corner of the workshop we entered like that stood a massive greatsword of a size that naturally drew the eye.
"I absolutely... love it."
The design itself hadn't changed much. The most noticeable difference was that a crossguard, which hadn't been there before, had been added. But as if flaunting that it wasn't made from ordinary materials, the blade was etched with a strange wave pattern, and unlike the previous dull, dark greatsword, it bore a refined, understated luster. Excluding its perspective-destroying size, it almost felt like a gladius. Siegfried approached the greatsword, picked it up with the utmost naturalness, and settled into a stance.
"Wow, it fits perfectly in my hand. The balance is way better too."
"You're here... Huh, to think he'd swing around a greatsword of that ridiculous size so lightly."
Mr. Balkun, who had been asleep until the other smiths called him, appeared from deeper inside the workshop, yawning languidly. He stroked his chin beard and voiced his honest impression. It was certainly an admirable movement. Yekaterina's war hammer had a long haft that made it look stable, whereas this thing was, after all, a sword, so its grip was far shorter than the blade and looked precarious as hell.
Of course, contrary to any third-party perception, Siegfried swung the sword with great skill and caution, then reached out to shake Mr. Balkun's hand with a satisfied smile.
"It's a truly magnificent sword. I feel like I could even beat Eldmia with this."
"Since it's for the Hero's use, I poured even greater care into crafting it than usual... Huh?"
For a moment, Mr. Balkun looked at me as if wondering if he'd misheard, but I simply shrugged my shoulders and replied by refuting Siegfried.
"It's always the weak ones who blame their weapons. You've lost twice now, I'd think it's about time you accepted it."
"Ah, splitting someone's weapon in half is cheating!"
"What are you talking about? You'd have done it too if you could, Hero, it's plain as day."
The guy's quivering in the face of my merciless facts was only momentary. Perhaps because his satisfaction with his sword was exceptional, Siegfried shifted his gaze back to it, nodded as if he'd made a major resolution, and spoke.
"I've decided on this sword's name."
"Even your way of changing the subject is truly pathetic."
"Ehem, you shouldn't nitpick on the sacred occasion of big bro naming his new weapon, you know."
The words 'sacred my ass' rose right up to my throat, but thinking about it, since Siegfried is a Hero chosen by the gods, it might not exactly be a wrong statement, so I let it pass.
"Well, what grandiose name did you come up with to act like this?"
Was he going to name it Balmung? My guess was off by a hair.
"Notung."
Huh, he's really going for a name that lives up to its worth.
Now that I heard it, it was a truly fitting name. It didn't get stuck in a tree, but it was a sword no one but a Hero-level fighter could wield carelessly; it wasn't repaired from a broken sword but it was made with that motif; and befitting the name 'necessity,' it featured auxiliary functions suited for the Hero.
"What does it mean?"
However, it wasn't a language I'd encountered while living here, so I asked while feigning curiosity. Siegfried put on an unnecessarily suave smile and answered.
"Necessity."
"Hmmm... I have to admit, that's a remarkably fitting name."
After a brief pause for dramatic effect, I voiced the compliment. Perhaps aware that he had borrowed from modern knowledge, Siegfried merely coughed and kept his reaction extremely restrained. Mr. Balkun handed him various tools for sword maintenance while petting Laika nonstop, then left Siegfried absorbed in the whetstone and other implements and turned to speak to me.
"Come to think of it, a few days ago, Shadow Foot came by and asked me to give this to you. Take it."
"Shadow Foot did?"
I hadn't expected to hear a name I'd figured I wouldn't see for a while at least, since he had come like the wind and vanished just as quickly, so I was a bit flustered. Had he met with Sen and heard something in the meantime? Various curiosities bubbled up, but first I accepted the leather pouch Mr. Balkun handed me and examined the contents.
"A potion?"
It was unmistakably a potion vial—a glass container shaped like a science lab test tube with an iron locking mechanism, looking clearly high-grade at a single glance. The difference was that, unlike typical potions which had a red wine-like crimson hue, this one shone with a clear blue light.
But that single difference was a fucking huge one. Having picked up things here and there while working as an adventurer, I instantly understood what the contents were, and precisely because of that, I couldn't accept the situation and blurted out some nonsense.
"This isn't some kind of dye, is it?"
Because unlike regular potions, this blue potion was a product of pure magic and a disgustingly expensive item. With just one of these, you could buy ten of the highest-quality potions from a temple.
"That fellow's quite the prankster, but he doesn't joke around with things like that."
Perhaps because he knew its value, Mr. Balkun also laughed appropriately, as if understanding my rudeness, and continued.
"He said thank you for helping his relative. I don't know the details, but he said he lost this time around?"
"...He's a remarkably consistent person."
There are two types of commonly used potions. Potions crafted at temples by infusing Divine Power, and potions made by pharmacists through magical processes. However, the latter is practically more of a decoction, and its effectiveness varies wildly depending on the pharmacist's skill, so adventurers who frequently take on dangerous requests don't favor it much. For some, it works exceptionally well, even better than a temple potion, while for others, it's no more effective than a simple tonic. So even if it's a bit pricier, one has no choice but to rely on temple-brand potions for guaranteed effectiveness.
But the two types of potions share one thing in common: shelf life.
The former gradually loses its Divine Power and, if left neglected for a long period without special treatment, loses its red color and turns into plain water. The latter rots. Temple potions vary by grade, but it's known that even mid-grade ones lose effectiveness markedly if left sitting for about a month. Pharmacists' potions, while they may maintain their effect, can't even last three days at room temperature, so mercenaries, who have a high chance of injury after fighting regardless, use them more often than adventurers do.
A few mages who found this exceptionally vexing pooled their ideas and devoted their lives to creating a new potion, and the result is this very blue potion. Looking at its appearance alone, you'd think it needs to be refilled with Mana or something, but nothing like that exists in this world. It's just a healing potion.
And as you might guess from the previously mentioned details, this thing is an item freed from the shackles of shelf life. The potion vial itself is a magic tool, periodically supplying Mana to the contents and maintaining its freshness. There's even an anecdote about using a potion that had been stored for a year, and it still reattached a thigh that was half-severed. So you could say its recovery ability is guaranteed. On top of that, unlike its appearance, it's disgustingly durable and won't break from a reasonable impact. Put this way, it sounds like an item with only advantages, but of course, there's a major drawback.
It's disgustingly expensive.
The aforementioned recovery performance can be adequately achieved with regular potions, and shelf life is a problem that can be factored into request schedules, so unless it's the decoction potions from pharmacists, it's just a minor annoyance rather than a major issue. Thanks to this, I heard it didn't take long for these potions to be treated as a standard-issue medicine for adventurers equivalent to silver rank or for the upper class. I too had only considered them that way until now.
Suddenly receiving an item that could save my life up to four times in an emergency as long as I was still breathing, I could only laugh.
"He seemed quite regretful that he couldn't deliver it in person because of his busy schedule. Said you should have a drink together sometime."
"I'd be glad to. Shadow Foot always seems to bring me luck."
His unique way of showing goodwill makes people feel good, so he's one of those people I'd gladly meet anytime. Anyway, I had to thank Siegfried this time around too. If he hadn't suggested we come together, I hadn't planned on visiting here for a while.
Afterward, having finished going over the tool pouch for weapon maintenance, Siegfried and I left the workshop in good spirits and headed to my place. As I spouted off "you totally suck at sparring, you know" to the guy who was insisting on a rematch because this time he'd win, the distance, which had felt quite long when we didn't talk, shrank in an instant. Siegfried, having suddenly become one of the few guests to visit my home, examined its exterior with a gaze full of interest and spoke.
"Oh. So this is the little brother's house?"
"Yes, it's part of the payment for Envelde's life."
"Heh, yeah. Now this is what a house should be. Not a pigsty that combines an animal pen with human living space."
With a sentiment only modern people who had romanticized fantasy-world life could share, Siegfried took out the bag of food and, instead of heading straight back, lingered with a hint of expectation in his voice.
"You'll give me a tour of the house, right?"
This guy, making such a fuss. Seeing the interior I'd cultivated with sensibilities honed by countless games featuring housing systems, he'd probably be so moved he'd shed tears.
Since the sun was already high anyway and it was obvious he wouldn't get a meal if he returned now, I nodded and accepted Siegfried's suggestion.
"It's lunchtime, isn't it? Since you're here, why not eat before you go."
"I'm incredibly curious to see how you've decorated the inside!"
Even though he himself lived in a far more luxurious place, Siegfried's reaction, his curiosity drawn by the interior of such a modest house, felt quite innocent and made me laugh without realizing it.