The Salamander's Forge (1)
"Go home. We're not open right now."
That was the very first thing the half-dwarf said to us when Ethan and I stepped into the smithy at the far end of Grainstone Village.
"I'm sorry?"
"Not open. Come back some other day, or don't come back at all."
"……."
"……."
The master half-dwarf gave the two of us a once-over before answering with that frosty brush-off. At a glance, it looked as though something about Ethan or me had rubbed him the wrong way.
But a dwarf living mingled among humans, rather than shut away in some obsidian mountain range, hardly had any reason to hate humankind—and besides, the man had a track record: just last year, he'd forged the very twin swords Ethan carried now.
So I could reach my own conclusion. He wasn't refusing work because he disliked us.
"This won't be a tricky commission like last time. All I need is a single dagger forged. If money's the issue, I'll pay whatever you ask—"
"It's not about the money. We're not open right now."
"If it isn't money, then if there's something else you want—"
"…You're in a situation where you couldn't forge a weapon right now even if you wanted to, aren't you, Mr. Dwarf?"
"…Lilith?"
"If we helped you with something, would you be able to make a sword for us then, Mr. Dwarf?"
"……."
Ethan stared at me with a faintly flustered look at my cutting in, while the half-dwarf fixed his gaze on me in silence.
I'd had my suspicions ever since we entered this strange village, but this was looking like one of those extra stories that counted as a quest.
Of course, I couldn't possibly have memorized every extra story Luminor Academy had to offer, so I couldn't say for certain this was a quest storyline. But if it really was that kind of incident, then resolving it as fast as possible was also the fastest way to settle our own business.
Back in the game, I'd mostly stuck to the main story, and even among the side stories I'd rarely touched any that didn't center on a heroine. It was only reasonable to assume I'd stumbled into one of the hidden quests I'd never seen.
"…The forge."
"I'm sorry?"
"The forge won't light. It's been that way for two weeks."
"The forge?"
"It's in my workshop up on the hill. Follow me."
With that, the half-dwarf master pushed open the shop door and set off toward the hilltop workshop on a waddling gait. Instinctively realizing that the quest had now well and truly begun, I hurried after him, while Ethan simply trailed behind me, still wearing a puzzled frown.
"This here is the forge I mentioned."
The workshop we'd followed him to did indeed house a forge that looked like it hadn't been touched in days. There was none of the sweltering heat or parched dryness you'd expect from a dwarf's workshop—nothing but the impression of a cold, dead space.
As if to prove he hadn't turned us away out of sheer laziness, the half-dwarf jerked a thumb toward the world outside and said, shortly:
"See it now? Until the forge comes back to normal, I can't work even if I want to. So once it's back to normal, come see me again."
"…How long will that take?"
"How should I know? Whenever the fire spirit dwelling in the forge gets over its mood, I suppose."
"I'm sorry?"
"Anyway, just understand this much: I can't take your commission until things are back to normal."
With that, the half-dwarf watched the two of us move to step outside. I left Ethan to his own confusion—he'd been floundering to keep up with the conversation for a while now—and edged closer to the forge of wrought iron and brick, thinking a closer look might tell me something.
"You think staring at it up close will change anything? I've tried everything I can for two weeks."
"Still, if there really is a spirit in the forge, shouldn't I at least ask what it would take to improve her mood?"
"If that were possible, I'd have done it ages—"
— Click.
Midway through the half-dwarf's grumbling as he eyed me with displeasure, the lid over what looked like the forge's fuel hatch popped open all on its own. And in the next instant, something red-and-orange came bursting out of it, straight at me.
— Fwoosh!
"Kyaaah?!"
"Lilith!"
I twisted away from the unidentified thing that had lunged at my body, but the scarlet something that had shot out of the fuel hatch vanished from my sight before I knew it. Then, the moment I turned toward the faint warmth I felt on my right arm, I found something the size of a fist clinging tightly to it.
'Mana—it's mana…! Maaanaaa…!'
"……."
Hold on. Don't tell me this is…
While I stood flustered by the small flame-like shape that had latched onto my right arm, Ethan had already drawn the sword at his hip—and this time it was the dwarf, the workshop's owner, who panicked at the sight.
"Lilith, hold still! I'll get that thing off you right now!"
'Mmmnaaah… H-hyaak?!'
"Y-young Master Ethan! Just a moment, please!"
"S-stop this instant! What do you think you're doing to the fire spirit?!"
"S…pirit?"
Cupping my hands protectively around the salamander clinging to my right arm, I calmed Ethan down first. Hearing the half-dwarf utter the word spirit, Ethan seemed to collect himself and quietly lowered his blade.
"Did you say spirit?"
"Do you truly not know that fire spirits dwell in dwarven forges and light the flames?!"
"Salamanders are spirits that are fundamentally harmless to humans. There's no need to be so alarmed, Young Master Ethan."
"…My apologies. That was uncalled for."
Honestly, what could have been so urgent that he'd tried to swing a sword the moment he laid eyes on this tiny spirit? Granted, a salamander was only a simple spirit, and an ordinary blade couldn't have harmed it—but Ethan had unconsciously channeled mana into his sword to cut it down.
Depending on how it went, he might well have given the forge's spirit a very painful time. Not that he could have dissolved her outright, spirit that she was.
'S-scary! That human is scary!'
"It's all right. He only got worked up because he didn't realize you were a spirit. He's not a bad man."
'You feel like someone I can actually talk to! You've got tons of mana, and you taste good, too!'
"…Taste good?"
'Yeah! I've been starving for two whole weeks, so I'm suuuper hungry!'
Two weeks. Come to think of it, that matched what the half-dwarf had said about the forge dying on him around two weeks ago. It seemed the reason the forge had sat cold all this time was simply that this salamander had no mana left in her body.
She was a tiny girl who looked as though she wore clothes woven from living flame. It went without saying, in a way—most spirits in this world took a form like this. As I'm always saying, Luminor Academy was a dating sim wearing an academy game's skin, and even in trifling details like this, it made sure to cater to its male audience.
"Then the reason you pounced on me just now was…"
'I could feel mana coming off you! A whooole lot of it! It keeps leaking out even when you just stand there!'
Well, of course it did—my maximum mana had long since blown past two thousand. The larger your mana pool, the faster your natural regeneration, and mana generated that way tends to seep out of the body on its own unless you consciously keep it sealed in.
While I chatted with the salamander as she hung off my right arm drinking down the mana leaking from me, Ethan began carefully feeling his way toward questions, as if he couldn't quite make sense of the scene.
"Um, Lilith?"
"Yes, Young Master Ethan?"
"…This might be a strange question, but—are you talking to the spirit right now?"
"…Can't you tell just by looking?"
"Well… I really can't tell just from looking…"
…Right. Come to think of it, in this world only high-ranking mages could hold conversations with spirits. To be precise, it wasn't rank but raw mana that mattered—but since becoming a high-ranking mage required vast mana anyway, the distinction hardly mattered. Spirits were beings intimately bound to mana, so only those rich in it could perceive their forms and understand their speech. Anyone below that threshold couldn't make out a spirit's true shape, let alone its language.
Not that it stopped the protagonist, who thanks to protagonist buffs understood spirit language just fine even at low levels with a pitiful mana pool.
"Forgive me for asking, but what do I look like to you right now, Young Master Ethan?"
"…Like you're talking to yourself at the ball of fire stuck to your right arm."
"……."
"Th-that's just how it looks, is all! It's not that I don't believe you're talking with a spirit!"
…Great. Chat with spirits in a crowded place and I'd get treated like a crazy bitch on the spot.
Anyway, if the forge had gone cold because this salamander had starved for want of mana, then the fix was simple: feed her until she was stuffed. Maybe I could wrap this up faster than I'd thought. With that hope, I put the question to the salamander on my arm.
"Miss Spirit? Do you happen to need more mana?"
'Huh?'
"The reason this forge won't work properly is that you were hungry, right? How much mana would I have to feed you before you could get it running again?"
If the whole thing could be settled by feeding her some mana, that was the easiest ending imaginable—it would mean I had no obligation to solve the mysterious listlessness that had settled over the village, too. And unlike everyone else in town, the half-dwarf hadn't looked particularly tired or languid; the moment his forge worked again, he'd surely get straight back to his craft.
With that thought, I was readying myself to channel mana to the salamander in earnest—but unfortunately, what came back from her was not quite such a rosy answer.
'Mmm~ can't do it!'
"I'm sorry?"
'Even if I'm full, there's no mana in the air at aaaaall~? I light fires by gathering up the mana in the air into one spot and igniting it~!'
"……."
"…What's wrong, Lilith? Your mana alone isn't enough? If you need mine too…"
"No, it's not that…"
So: no mana in the air, no forge fire, huh…
Going by the salamander's words, this meant, in effect, that we'd have to fix the strange phenomenon afflicting Grainstone Village itself before the forge could burn again. It was looking like slipping through this place by doing nothing at all had just gotten a good deal harder.