The Yustia Banquet (1)
Right now, there were three people in Serena's private mansion who didn't belong to the Yohayden household.
The first was Zeke Clayman.
The benefactor who had saved Serena's life and her swordsmanship instructor—a most honored guest.
He was the second most talked-about figure among the mansion's servants, right after Serena herself.
Of course, thanks to his gruff speech and expressionless face, no one treated him with easy familiarity.
But those sharp eyes that stirred the hearts of women, that icy aura...
The man who had rescued their liege lady from peril.
And the one who had resolved the still-much-discussed betrayal by Ciela.
On top of that, the 'Lamieli Training' from the night before had steadily expanded his influence even among the guards.
The maids and valets, in particular, would gather in secret corners and blush as they whispered about the subtle atmosphere between Serena and Zeke.
Of course, Eily—who knew the most—kept her mouth firmly shut.
'It's too soon! What if word reaches the Duke like this? How can they be so careless!'
Especially since she had misunderstood the massage incident as Zeke having already crossed that line, she was even more cautious with her words.
And the second person who wasn't Yohayden staff.
He was just as famous a figure as Zeke.
Iriel Yustia, lady of the Yustia Dukedom.
The Yohayden servants still couldn't quite figure out how to handle this lofty noblewoman.
Same age as their mistress, same school, same class—classmates, in fact.
Serena had brought her personally, so they should treat her as a guest with utmost hospitality... but their relationship didn't seem close enough for such extravagance.
The long history of rivalry between the two ducal houses and the rumors swirling in society didn't help matters.
Unlike with Zeke, the servants had tacitly made it a rule not to even mention her name.
Of course, maids like Shuri, who interacted with her directly, were starting to change their views lately.
'If you ignore her bold speech and manners, she seems honest and decent... She could even be a good friend for Lady Serena.'
Now, the last one remaining.
Now, no one could even remember his name.
Even if the valets and maids bumped into him in the halls or at meals, they'd tilt their heads and pass by, assuming he was just some new hire.
The blacksmith, former owner of the now-burned-down Geborg Weapon Shop.
Aleng.
Aleng was living at Serena's mansion, enjoying luxuries he could never have dreamed of in his lifetime.
Of course, even the head butler had forgotten he was a guest, so he ate with the staff and slept among them.
But compared to his days as a poor blacksmith barely scraping by...
It was the difference between a cheap wooden sword and a knight's beloved blade.
No tasks assigned to him either—he just idled away his days like a leisurely layabout. How could this not be bliss?
Yet he couldn't bring himself to smile.
'What the hell am I even doing here...'
Hadn't he grabbed onto the rope of salvation?
His heart had raced with anticipation of walking the true path of a master craftsman once more.
One day.
Two days.
A week.
A month.
The hero who had saved his life, Zeke Clayman, never came for him.
'Maybe I'll never forge a sword like that again...'
Aleng was afraid. Anxious.
The immersive sensation he'd felt while crafting Serena's rapier was fading into haze.
But he couldn't say he was leaving out of fear of Lorden.
Nor could he approach Serena or Zeke begging for work.
'How could a nobody like me go up to nobles of ducal rank and just... talk to them first!'
And so, in self-abandonment, clenching and unclenching his itchy hands became his daily routine.
"Wh-what is this...!"
Aleng's jaw dropped wide.
The surge of pent-up grievance upon seeing Zeke arrive that morning faded in an instant.
He'd scurried after him at the curt "follow me," only to face a vast new forge.
'Th-this is definitely where my smithy was...'
A gleaming anvil shining like new, hammers finished to luxurious perfection that made one hesitate to swing them, a furnace roaring with ferocious flames.
Sleek weapon racks and all manner of smithing tools.
No trace of his old Geborg Weapon Shop—the scent of a freshly built structure filled the air.
Zeke frowned slightly.
"Hm. The noise is a drawback since it's far from the mansion."
Aleng stared at him with trembling eyes.
"How... how did this place...?"
He asked with a quaking heart. Zeke had surely summoned him here to smith again.
But was it really okay for him to wield the hammer in a place like this?
"Your old forge burned down, so I built a new one. You'll make weapons here from now on."
"R-really? I can use this place...?"
"Yes."
"Th-then... are there other smiths...?"
"No."
"What!?"
Tears welled in Aleng's eyes.
'Touched him, huh?'
Zeke nodded to himself, as expected.
'I poured so much money into this. Of course he's moved.'
He'd used every bit of pocket money from Serena to build the forge from the ground up.
To monopolize production and repairs for armor, weapons, and training gear for his students going forward.
"I-I'm really the only one using this place?"
Aleng asked in a quavering voice.
"Yes."
At Zeke's firm confirmation, Aleng's face crumpled.
He dropped to his knees and clutched Zeke's pant leg.
"I-I can't do it!!!! Please, please, have mercy! Sir Zeke! Spare this wretched soul!"
"...?"
Zeke eyed him with puzzled confusion.
"What's wrong? Shouldn't you be thrilled? No confidence in making weapons?"
"How am I supposed to repay this debt alone!"
"Debt?"
"Yes! A place this fine— it'd take selling tens, hundreds, thousands of weapons just to break even on the construction costs! I can't do it alone!"
Zeke furrowed his brow.
Hah. What a pain.
So that's what he was on about.
"Aleng, did I ever say you had to repay a debt?"
"Pardon?"
"Keep the profits from weapon sales. I want only one thing."
"Wh-what is it...?"
Gulp. Aleng's throat bobbed.
"Prioritize commissions for weapons, armor, and training gear for the five students in my classes."
"...Pardon? I must have misheard."
"You heard right. That's all I want from you. Make the best gear tailored to those five. That's why I invested in you."
"..."
"You don't believe me? I'll say it again: no need to repay any debt."
Shiver.
A dizzying thrill raced up his spine.
Aleng couldn't control his trembling body.
"R-really...?"
Emotion choked him, trailing off his words.
Tears brimmed in his eyes.
But Zeke had no interest in some grown man's waterworks.
"If you cry, I'll make you repay the debt."
Hic.
Aleng desperately held back his sobs.
After a moment, Zeke glanced back with a smirk.
"Looks like someone's getting impatient, so let's start work. Iriel, come in."
A red-haired girl emerged, awkwardly fiddling with her hair.
"...How'd you know I was here...?"
"Hm? Didn't you follow me knowing?"
"O-of course I did!!!"
Aleng, watching, spoke up.
"Um, this young lady is...?"
His noble senses rang alarm bells again.
This damn hero had brought another heavyweight.
His heart, softened by emotion moments ago, hardened instantly.
"Iriel Yustia. Lady of House Yustia."
"Hulllk!!!"
Aleng yelped—half-scream, half-gasp—as he toppled backward.
"What's with you?"
Zeke stared like he was some weirdo.
'You damn benefactor!!! Bringing a Yustia here—what am I supposed to do!'
He already owed the Yohaydens an unrepayable debt.
And now, the first customer was a Yustia—their sworn rivals.
Even a commoner like Aleng with no connections knew that much.
Their enmity was irreconcilable.
But what could he say here?
Yohayden this, Yustia that—
Any word out of his mouth would be a noose around his own neck.
Aleng squeezed his eyes shut.
'This guy... does he really have no common sense...? What the hell is his deal with me...'
A torrent of thoughts flooded him, but
he had no choice but to bow his head.
"G-greetings!!! I am the lowly blacksmith Aleng!!"
Following Zeke's instructions, Aleng examined Iriel Yustia's hands.
Delicate and fair, just like Serena's—hands befitting a duke's daughter.
"Ooh, hmm. Hoo..."
Aleng murmured in quiet admiration.
"What do you think?"
Zeke asked from the side.
"Um, milady. Forgive my impertinence, but about your past..."
"Aleng, get to the point."
"H-have you wielded daggers since childhood...?"
"Huh!? Yeah! How'd you know? Did Zeke tell you?"
Iriel's eyes widened at Aleng's question.
"I never told her."
"...The marks are faint now, but your hands bear the traces of long-term dagger use. Perfect for gripping one."
"Really?"
Iriel asked back.
"Y-yes... Before your bones fully set, you held daggers—and that time is etched into them."
"Hands etched with that time, huh... Not bad, what you said."
Zeke nodded.
"Hm, as expected. Serena didn't suit the sword at all, but Iriel's different."
Iriel tilted her head.
Serena's feats from yesterday had been beyond imagination, after all.
"Huh? Doesn't a flower garden suit swords?"
"..."
Zeke didn't answer, his gaze lingering on a certain part of Iriel.
Iriel's eyes flashed cat-like fury as she clutched her chest with both hands.
"Wh-what're you staring at!"
"The body must be born suited for swinging a sword without hindrance. Iriel, in that sense, you're blessed."
"I-I didn't want that kinda blessing!"
"Hm, smaller would've been even better. But this size works fine. Congratulations, Iriel."
Zeke clapped with a deadpan face.
His applause made Iriel's face burn scarlet.
"...Don't congratulate me either!"
Having stuffed cloth into her chest to flatten it, the truly blessed Iriel bit her lip hard.