The Uninvited Guest (1)
Apeiron-class demonic swords were the term for the blades that stood at the very summit of the demonic sword hierarchy.
Terrifying weapons said to have been forged personally by the Demon Gods in the furnaces of hell — wickedness itself given form.
Whenever an Apeiron-class demonic sword appeared in the world, it always plunged everything into dreadful chaos.
Zgahi, which had laid waste to the Eastern Territory and showered the Empire with the Early Winter Plague, had likewise been one of the un-subjugated Apeiron-class demonic swords.
"Well, by this point you should all understand why I said the permanent destruction of a demon is practically impossible."
Professor Armando dusted his hands off lightly, bringing his long lecture to a close.
"So any proper demonology researcher ought to devise more realistic solutions rather than spout nonsense about permanently destroying demons. That will be all."
With the bell signaling the end of class ringing out right on cue, the students began gathering up their writing tools one by one.
Amid the bustle, Professor Armando spoke up, as if he'd remembered something he'd forgotten.
"And since we're already on the subject of demonic swords — a word of caution for any of you students planning to acquire new weapons in preparation for the practical exam. Be careful, and then be careful again."
The Alheim Practical Exam for the new first-years was now right around the corner.
The students were already feverishly organizing into teams and exchanging information among themselves, eyes glued to the giant notice boards posted around the plaza.
"I'm well aware that at a time like this, plenty of students get taken in by out-of-town traveling merchants and buy counterfeit magic swords or cheap knockoff demonic swords at top price, convinced they're getting a genuine masterwork."
And at the snickers drifting over from the Magic Department, he turned his head sharply and said in a stern voice,
"Don't laugh. The Magic Department is no better — worse, if anything."
"…"
"In any case… make absolutely sure you use the verified forges and workshops of Caliburn. Especially beware of Morphia-class or Gordike-class junk magic tools — they'll leak demonic energy so thickly that the Tin Knights guarding the main gate will catch you on the spot."
He rapped the lectern lightly, wrapping up his explanation with a final remark.
"If you're caught attempting to bring in prohibited items, a major disciplinary hearing will be waiting for you, so be extremely careful. Now then — that's all for today!"
When class ended, the students broke off into their little clusters and scattered in every direction, and the talk on their lips was, nine times out of ten, about the upcoming Alheim Practical Exam.
Amid all the lively chatter, a shadow fell once more across Garnet's face as she walked alone.
She had no close classmates or seniors worth exchanging information with.
Fortunately, thanks to Elysion's policy of artificially altering Alheim's terrain and vegetation every single year, exchanging information about it would have been pointless anyway — that much, at least, was a small mercy.
But Garnet's worries lay elsewhere.
"…I really have to get my hands on a sword today, no matter what."
With her lectures conveniently empty, she planned to spend the time thoroughly combing the streets of Caliburn.
Somewhere out there, surely, there was a decent sword that fit her budget — she clung to that hope with all her might.
"I'm telling you, that 'snatch the rabbit' method actually seems to work?"
"Oh? You too?"
Then, conversation from a group of female Swordsmanship students passing by happened to brush past her ears.
Their faces, overcast with dark clouds all morning, somehow now glimmered with a faint spark of energy and hope.
"…"
Garnet came to an abrupt halt on the spot.
The mortifying memory of yesterday surfaced unbidden, and her face burned hot all over again.
"…I'll go back with my head held high. Head held high…"
She bit her lip softly, shaking her head hard, trying her best to shake off the shame and fear.
She still didn't have the courage to face that man properly, even if she returned to class.
What Garnet needed right now was something — anything — to drag her self-esteem back up from rock bottom.
A good result on the Alheim Practical Exam could serve as one such ingredient too.
"I just need a sword. If I can just find one decent sword… somehow, I'll…"
Heading straight for the main gate, Garnet boarded a carriage bound for Caliburn and left Elysion behind.
After a long ride along the winding mountain road lined with rows of trees on either side, the prosperous cityscape of Caliburn finally came into view beyond the plains.
And Garnet's face — which had been harboring a sliver of hopeful expectation — crumpled into despair within a matter of minutes.
"Th-that's way too expensive…!"
After visiting only a handful of forges, she quickly grasped the cold reality.
There were plenty of items offered at student discounts, but even those were extravagant luxuries far beyond Garnet's current means.
And she was hardly the haggling type who could put on a stone face and haggle the price down, either.
"W-what do I do…? At this rate, I really will…"
So it was, while Garnet trudged along with a dark look and heavy steps, that something caught her eye.
A shabby open-air stall spread out at the back of an alley.
Guarding the center of the haphazard sprawl of antiques was an old woman of decidedly wretched appearance.
As Garnet stood there gazing at the stall, the old woman seemed to sense her attention and beckoned to her.
"Come have a look, missy."
"Huh? M-me…?"
"The family fortune's gone under, so I've no choice but to sell. I'll make you a good deal on anything."
"Er… um…"
Unable to bring herself to refuse the old woman's pleading, Garnet found herself more or less forced into browsing the antiques.
"Huh?"
The moment she spotted a certain old sword lying casually among the piles of scrap metal, a small gasp escaped her.
Despite its dirty, wretched appearance, somehow Garnet found she couldn't take her eyes off it.
At last, as if spellbound, she approached, lifted the sword up — and a sigh of admiration slipped out of her all on its own.
"G-goodness…"
The length, the balance, the just-right weight.
And on top of that, a finely honed edge that sent an instinctive chill down her spine just from looking at it.
Only its shape was old — not a single thing about it was lacking.
Garnet could tell at a glance that this was a genuinely fine sword.
While she stood there lost in entranced admiration, the old woman's ailing voice drifted over from behind her.
"It belonged to my late husband. If you'll take it, I'll give it to you cheap."
"H-how much is it?"
"Just one silver for you."
"Ah…"
And an indescribable despair flashed across Garnet's face.
She soon bowed her head in dejection and was about to set the sword limply back in its place when the old woman, stealing a careful look at her, asked in a subtle voice,
"Short on money, are you? How much can you pay?"
"I… I've only got nine coppers…"
"Fine, then. Take it for that."
"Y-yes?! Wha—"
"I'm only selling because you seem to like it so much."
Even at the sight of Garnet's eyes going wide as saucers, the old woman simply chuckled and shook her head.
"I'm old anyway — can't swing a blade anymore. A young one taking it and putting it to good use would do my heart good."
"B-but…"
Garnet, who had been about to thrust the money forward, froze stiff on the spot.
It was because Professor Armando's warning about getting swindled by shady merchants suddenly came back to her.
"Well, if you don't want it, I suppose there's nothing to be done…"
"N-no! I'll buy it! I'm buying it!"
But at the sight of the old woman slowly reaching out her arm, Garnet started in alarm and hugged the sword tight to her chest.
It wasn't as though this was really the situation the professor had described.
No one, anywhere, would sell off a genuine demonic sword for a few coins, no matter how cheap it looked.
And if she was truly uneasy, she could simply have it inspected once at the main gate before entering.
"H-here's the money…!"
She hastily fished out her coin pouch and thrust it at the old woman in a flustered hurry.
So rushed was she that she failed to notice something slipping from her breast pocket, clattering to the ground with a metallic ring.
Only after receiving the money did the old woman nod her head in satisfaction at last.
"Use it well. Then my late husband will be pleased too."
"O-of course! Of course I'll use it well! Thank you…!!"
Garnet's face glowed as though she'd just received a birthday present.
"Hehe…"
As she stroked the blade again and again, a giddy smile spread across her face without end.
She had never dreamed she'd run into such luck in a back alley.
So it was that Garnet, after bidding the old woman farewell, turned to leave — walking on air as she made to slip out of the alley.
"This is the b—huh?"
Suddenly noticing something, she instinctively darted behind cover.
It was because she'd spotted a man walking out in front of the Church of Aten's Caliburn temple, at the far end of the main street.
It was Professor Kallen — someone Garnet knew all too well.
Behind him, wearing an oddly complicated expression, was the Diocesan Director who presided over the Caliburn parish.
The sight of that haughty Church director bowing at a perfect right angle to someone was a shockingly fresh spectacle even to Garnet.
Especially since the recipient of that bow was none other than Kallen.
Somehow, Garnet thought he looked exactly like a rich customer who'd just bought something enormously expensive.
"It's not like the temple sells anything though… unless it was holy water…?"
After puzzling over it alone for a moment, Garnet shook her head hard and turned her feet back toward the depths of the alley.
It was hardly her business what Kallen had been doing at the temple.
And if she fumbled around and ended up meeting his eyes by accident — that would be far more terrifying to Garnet than anything.
"Ugh… how long am I supposed to keep dodging him like this…"
Letting out a frustrated sigh, Garnet suddenly froze in place as if she'd just remembered something.
"Ah, right. I never asked the sword's name?"
A sword kept in this fine a condition was bound to have had a name it went by.
Thinking that this worked out well, Garnet made her way back toward the stall.
"Excuse me, ma'am. This sword, does it happen to have a na—huh?"
But she was immediately left wearing a bewildered expression.
The messy stall was nowhere to be found — all that remained in the alley was bare, empty pavement.
The old woman's traces had vanished as if scattered to the wind, nowhere to be seen.
"What…? Did she clean up in the meantime…?"
Garnet stood there fretting over it, unable to reach any satisfying answer—
—I'm sure I saw platinum blonde hair around here…?
"…Hiek!"
At a voice drifting over from the far end of the alley, Garnet shuddered violently.
—Miss Potts? Are you in there? If you are…
"W—aaah…"
In a panicked flurry, she hurriedly set off at a scramble in the opposite direction from the voice.
Carol was someone awkward to run into in a very different way from Kallen.
Her warmth was almost too much to bear up close.
If Garnet became her friend, she felt as though even the resolve and fighting spirit she'd so carefully hoarded might melt away like snow in spring sunshine.
"Not yet… not now."
She murmured to herself, shaking her head as she ran.
"If I manage a good result in this practical exam… maybe then it'll be all right…"
And as she looked down at the new sword at her hip, a bright smile bloomed on her lips once more.
"…Heehee."
"I'm sure I saw Miss Potts… Miss Potts?! Are you in there… hm?"
Carol, who had come sniffing into the alley with her nose twitching, scrunched up her face in an exaggerated frown.
All that met her eyes was the sight of a bare, empty back alley.
"I definitely saw her… was I imagining it…?"
And so Carol, disappointment plain on her face, was about to heave a deep sigh—
"Hm…?"
Something glinting on the ground caught her attention, and she crouched down to pick it up.
What she'd found was an old locket-shaped pendant, worn and scuffed with years of use.
And when she opened it, Carol's eyes went perfectly round.
"Oh, this is…?"
"Goodness… to have a professor personally search every temple for us like this…"
"Honestly, you really didn't have to come out here at all…"
Despite Kallen's grimacing complaints, a broad, beaming smile never left the face of Matilda, the Diocesan Director of Caliburn.
After all, this was a woman built like a bear, her entire body packed solid with muscle — and her overbearing friendliness was more than he could stomach.
Matilda, meanwhile, simply kept showering Kallen with flattery, her mouth practically oiled.
"Oh my, to spend such an enormous sum — no, to display such admirable devotion, it was only proper for me as the Diocesan Director to show my respect!"
She hastily corrected her own slip of the tongue and rubbed her hands together like a fly, obsequious as ever.
Kallen shook his head wearily, as though he'd had enough, and addressed her with a note of warning.
"In any case… this stays absolutely secret from everyone else? I told you, didn't I? It's an errand for the Headmistress."
"Of course it will. No one understands Lady Talisa's tireless labors better than we do."
Matilda nodded firmly, as if to say there was nothing to worry about.
Only then did Kallen relax, turning on his heel and making his way out of the temple.
He glanced back over his shoulder, spotted Matilda still waving at him, and muttered under his breath with a shudder.
"Ugh… honestly, what is it with money…"
It was an even more awkward sight when he recalled the earlier Matilda who had scowled at him so fiercely, insisting the temple was no place for almsgiving.
Walking along the street, he let out a long sigh.
"Haven't even gotten my first paycheck yet and I'm already flat broke… sheesh…"
He felt a small twinge of guilt for trading on the Headmistress's name, but Kallen quickly shook his head and steeled himself.
Compared to a Headmistress who tried to slip the leash around his neck whenever she pleased, this hardly counted as even a light prank.
She was the one who'd said she'd accommodate his comfort as much as possible in the first place, after all.
"Hmm…"
Then, checking the time, Kallen furrowed his brow slightly.
His afternoon lectures were empty, which meant he still had plenty of time on his hands.
Even if he went back now, there was nothing to do but sprawl out for a midday nap.
"…Come to think of it, I have been running myself ragged lately."
Lost in thought, Kallen murmured to himself as he clenched and unclenched his right hand.
Delinquent professor or not, his rest time had inevitably shrunk compared to his days as an adventurer and a live-in son-in-law.
"Well, doesn't a man need some downtime now and then? Can't spend every day hauling money off to the temple."
Having finally reached his conclusion, he grinned wide.
"Might as well do a little gambling, for old times' sake."
Wherever there was a prosperous territory, a gambling den was sure to spring up.
And naturally, Kallen assumed Caliburn would be no exception to that rule.
Which was why the very first place he headed was the quarters of the Caliburn Guard's captain.
"Y-you've got to be kidding me… now it's not just drinking, but gambling…"
Even at Fabian's weary, heavy sigh, Kallen just smirked and kept pressing him.
"Oh come on, I'd be keeping an eye on the scene so the students don't stray down the wrong path, you know? You must have some spots the guards frequent. Share a little, hm?"
"Ugh… I swear I won't answer for whatever happens to you…"
So it was that Kallen, having more or less coerced the location out of him, finally set foot in a certain shabby tavern in a back alley of the southern district.
Reading the grimy sign reading The One-legged Goose, Kallen nodded with a satisfied smirk.
"Not a bad atmosphere at all. I've got a good feeling about this already."
He marched straight up and flung the door open with a confident kick.
"Coming through!"
The interior was so thick with smoke and stale odors that it resembled nothing so much as a raccoon den.
Kallen soon wedged himself into the crowd of gamblers, joined a table on the spot, and started playing.
"Flush! I win!"
"Damn it! Beaten by one card again…!!"
"HAHAHA!"
Where Kallen laughed heartily and loud, the gambler across from him clutched his head in utter ruin.
Before Kallen, the gambling chips had already piled up into a small mountain.
"My luck's hot today, eh? Hahaha!"
"Damn it, where the hell did this guy come from, and how is he…!"
With the cards sticking to him all day long, a pleased smile never left Kallen's lips.
Though it was still a far cry from enough, he'd managed to recoup a decent chunk of what he'd spent at the temple earlier.
Eyes gleaming, Kallen pushed every last chip on the table forward with a surge of bravado.
"All in!"
"Gahk…!"
"R-really?!"
"A man doesn't say two things with one mouth. All in, no matter what. Heh heh."
And so Kallen sat there savoring the stares around him as he waited for the next hand to be dealt.
"Good, very good. If it keeps going like this…"
"Y-YOU…!!"
"Huh…?"
A loud crash of something shattering rang out from the entrance.
Standing there was a green-haired woman, hair in disarray, her whole body caked in dust.
Her fiercely upturned glare was fixed squarely — precisely — on Kallen.
The hand clutching the doorknob she'd broken from sheer force was trembling violently.
Lucia stood rooted to the spot, staring at Kallen, and stammered out,
"F-f-f-found you…!"