Linked Quest (4)
The blacksmith's eyes lit up with interest as he examined the stake, which wasn't merely rusted but possessed a strange crimson sheen all its own. "Would you mind if I take a closer look?"
"Of course."
He accepted the Fatigue-Stained Stake—the name Dantalion's Monocle had revealed, though it bore no actual blood—and placed the oversized object on a dish-like tray atop his workbench. Then he began his inspection, cycling through various tools. He peered at it through something resembling a microscope, scraped a bit of the surface into a container of liquid to observe the reaction, and so on. Most of those implements were magical devices, which explained why the scene felt more like a laboratory than a forge.
After roughly ten minutes, the plump blacksmith returned and spoke. "I'll need to run more detailed tests to be certain, but processing it should be feasible. However—"
He gave me a worried look and handed over a sheet of paper. The invoice listed the estimated costs and materials required for the work, with an added clause noting that "additional fees of up to thirty percent may apply depending on the manufacturing process." I won't mention the exact amount, but Ligret's face had gone pale as she backed away after glancing at the price beside me.
The blacksmith added apologetically, "Since we're dealing with an unknown metal, there are many steps involved in determining its properties. Depending on the desired shape and size of the weapon, extra material costs will also be incurred…"
"Ah, that's fine. I'll pay right away."
I answered without hesitation. Given the clientele this shop catered to, their fees were indeed steep. A year ago, I would have found the sum burdensome. But now it was manageable.
Was it thanks to the gold coins earned from the Midas Cubes? The profits were decent, though not astronomical. I'd set the prices at a level that wouldn't invite accusations of fraud, and I had to maintain a certain ratio of high-quality items to avoid being branded a swindler among the nobility—expenses that added up. In truth, the real revenue came from the Cubes customers brought in lieu of gold. Plenty were duds, but just as many were jackpots. Praise the ancient civilization.
I turned to Ligret. "What weapon shape do you want?"
Her current main equipment fell into three broad categories:
The Ancient Guardian's Greatsword, lacking special effects but boasting exceptional cutting power and durability that withstood rough handling.
The Ice-White Cross Spear, four meters long with a separation mechanism and the ability to cloak its entire attack range in frost.
The Feldous's Summoning Gloves, capable of calling forth throwing spears from the void up to three times a day.
She also carried throwing knives in thigh holsters and a shortsword at her waist, but those were closer to ordinary weapons despite their quality. She had other magical tools from Cubes, yet many overlapped with existing gear or simply didn't suit her tastes.
"Dagger, hammer, greatsword."
"Pick one. Just one. You've only got one voucher, and I'm not making multiples. Besides, you already have a greatsword—you don't have room to equip another."
She was probably influenced by her earlier clash with Dietrich. A greatsword already occupied her back, and the separated cross spear rested at her waist. A hammer might be manageable, but forcing another greatsword would only hinder her movement. She was smaller than even Fiore, after all.
That was why everyone assumed she relied solely on speed and technique, only to be crushed when they tried to overpower her with brute strength.
Ligret frowned slightly. "It'd be nice if there was something that combined your backpack and my gloves."
"A magical tool that stores desired items and summons them when needed?"
Hmm. That would certainly boost her combat effectiveness. I asked the blacksmith, "Could you craft something like that as well?"
He shook his head. "Our workshop employs skilled mages and alchemists to imbue weapons with various effects, but spatial magic is mostly classified as secret arts and difficult to replicate. Existing tools of that nature are either ancient relics or rare outflows from the Morian Kingdom. Spatial transfer might be possible, but it has the weakness of failing if the weapon is stored too far from its location."
Come to think of it, Professor Faust had created a spatial transfer tool during the last assignment—though it had been a consumable. When I asked about the range, he said it became useless beyond roughly the size of a city. For us, who frequently traveled to various regions, it would be little more than dead weight.
In the end, Ligret chose the dagger. The blacksmith said he'd notify us when it was finished, so we decided to leave for now. Come to think of it, there had been a hammer that exploded on impact. I might go look for one if I had the time.
A few days later, we gathered once more to carry out a mission for the "Special Request Squad." The client was Dietrich von Draug. The request was to assist with reconnaissance for the Eastern Army. The team consisted of me and Ligret. That was it.
Huh?
"Aren't Special Squad missions supposed to be done in teams of six?"
"That's just the basic rule. Volunteers don't always split neatly into groups of six, so situations like this happen. The exact composition can change depending on the difficulty of the request."
Professor Istal smiled as if to ask what the problem was. I pressed on. "Even so, every other team has six members. Having just the two of us feels off. Shouldn't we at least split into groups of four?"
"Chrome."
"Yes."
"Would you rather go alone?"
The question came in a gentle voice. There was no killing intent, yet the person before me could induce respiratory distress by her mere presence. The pressure was more than sufficient. Still, did she really think I'd yield so easily?
"Or I could come along. It might be fun to go smack that idiot whose only redeeming quality is his toughness after so long!"
"Ligret and I will handle it just fine on our own."
"Is that so? What a shame."
One should never negotiate with a madwoman who cared nothing for gains or losses. I had no desire to be slapped by a monster who could casually dispatch both the current Ligret and Princess Lyla in a duel, leaving my neck bent at a right angle. Still, retreating empty-handed felt unsatisfying.
"Professor, completing such a difficult mission with just the two of us seems quite challenging."
"I'm curious what honeyed words you'll offer this time. Go ahead and speak."
"Couldn't Ligret and I at least be assigned to the same team during request squad activities?"
Professor Istal appeared to ponder for a moment—roughly three seconds.
"Hmm, very well. The main goal is to distribute forces and foster teamwork with unfamiliar people, after all. I won't fix all six members permanently, but I'll allow the two of you to work together. On the condition that you successfully complete the request, of course. Do your best."
Excellent. That alone was a solid achievement. Next would be the princess… though she was competent in too many areas and wielded too much influence to easily pull away.
After riding the magic train for some time, Ligret and I arrived at the base where the Eastern Army was stationed.
"You two over there! This is a restricted area for civilians! State your identities!"
Unlike certain places where civilians approaching a military base were met with drawn weapons, the Eastern Army soldiers issued warnings in an intimidating yet measured manner. Then again, if they failed to go on alert when a woman covered head to toe in weapons approached, that would be the real problem.
After a moment's hesitation over which title to use, I raised my hands and spoke. "We're from the 'Imperial Guerrilla Squad'! We've been dispatched from the Academy on orders from the Eastern Army Commander!"
The soldiers conferred among themselves before shouting back, "We're verifying your credentials now—please wait a moment!"
Ligret remarked, "Their tone changed right away."
"There are plenty of nobles among Academy graduates. How would they know which side we're on? Better to speak formally first."
The wait wasn't long, and there were no cumbersome procedures like disarming. More precisely, the soldiers had tried to follow protocol, but their superiors overruled it.
"Oh? I was wondering when you'd show up. Finally here, huh. Follow me—I'll tell you what needs doing."
When the Eastern Army Commander himself descended like a god and declared, "These are my guests, so I'll take them," the ironclad security parted like the Red Sea. The comfort of a highway couldn't compare.
In the commander's office, Dietrich von Draug declared, the massive golden eagle emblem at his back, "Welcome to the Eastern Army, rookies."