“Little Brother. I'm Glad to See You Again.”
"Little brother. I'm glad to see you again."
Ardella flashes her signature smile, the corners of her mouth subtly lifting on her otherwise stoic face as she greets me.
"No way, Ardella? You're here...?"
"......"
The faint curve at the edge of Ardella's lips flattens back into a straight line. A chill runs down my spine in that instant.
"Ardella noona."
"That's better, little brother. Mind if we come in?"
"Ah, yep. Of course. Haha..."
I dodge the crisis with quick thinking and gesture inside. Ardella strides past me into my room like she owns the place. I shoot a look at Kernax, who's standing behind her.
'What the hell is going on?'
But Kernax slyly avoids my gaze and follows Ardella in. No choice—I close the door behind us. I stare at the two women who plop down on my bed so naturally, then just sit on the floor.
"Little brother. There's space right here—why the floor? Come sit next to your noona."
"......Yep."
With Ardella patting the spot beside her expectantly, I have no option but to get up and sit. Luckily, Kernax doesn't seem too bothered by the situation. If it were Siron, she'd have been glaring daggers and trying to kill me by now.
"Noona, so... what's the sudden visit about?"
"What else? I came to see that thing you made."
"Huh? You, noona?"
Man, this noona must have way too much free time. I heard she's the heir to the next countess title. And isn't the lord's castle pretty far from here? Not that I know where any cities besides Molingta are. It's not that I'm dumb—I've just been too busy surviving to learn geography.
"Yeah. I happened to be nearby, investigating traces of thieves suspected to be heretics with the holy knights. Your story reached my ears, and since it was close, I came myself."
"Aha..."
Even from a rough listen, the heretic stuff sounds way more important. Did she really need to come personally? But quick-on-the-uptake Smith here puts on a deeply moved expression and nods vigorously. It works like a charm.
"Haha, no need to be that touched. Seeing my one and only little brother is way more important than some trivial matter."
I don't know why, but I'm grateful she thinks so highly of me. Still, separately from that, I can't help thinking a lord like her might be a bit of a headache to deal with.
Kernax, sitting beside Ardella, seems to share my sentiment this time—her face is subtly tense as she stares at the back of Ardella's head.
"Uh, so should I show you the item now?"
"Yes. I know the look from the ones Kernax was wearing—I made her take them off—but I haven't tested the performance. She was clutching them like some precious heirloom."
Ardella teases, and Kernax blushes, turning her face slightly away.
"I heard a bit on the way. Blocks blind arrows and clumsy sword strikes easily? And Kernax and Amelia vouched for it. With their word, I don't really need to verify, but it's still hard to believe without seeing it myself. So, Smith. Show your noona what you've made."
"Yep. I'll grab it real quick."
I hop up and head out. I take the back stairs down, kill some time, craft a fresh pair of Night Fairy stockings (2kg), and return to my room.
"Definitely the same design as the ones Kernax has. Oh, it won't matter if it rips, right?"
"Of course not."
"Feels nice and cool."
Ardella slips her hand into the cleavage—slightly smaller than Kernax's—and pulls out a plain white sheath from between her breasts. A dagger.
"Kernax."
Kernax grabs the steaming fresh Night Fairy with both hands and stretches it taut. Ardella draws her dagger and swings it vertically at the tight fabric—lightly.
Clang—!!
"Ho...?"
Anyone could see it's got the look and feel of cheap cloth, but it rings out like metal. Ardella's eyes widen slightly. She swings again at the still-taut stockings. Once, twice, three times, four.
Kagak—
The scraping of metal on metal echoes as the Night Fairy (2kg) tears in half under the dagger.
"Hahaha! This is the real deal. Little brother, you've got some serious talent. Your noona's thrilled."
Ardella's usually flat voice rises just a touch in pitch. She doesn't show it on her face, but she's clearly in a great mood.
"Tougher than what was in Kernax's report. With stuff like this, I'd take out loans to arm the territory's knights and soldiers."
Ardella sheathes the dagger and tucks it back into her cleavage. She stares right into my eyes with a brighter smile than before.
"I really want it."
"Pardon?"
"No, nothing. So, little brother. I'll send someone later for the details, but first—how much per pair?"
I glance at the honorably bisected, deceased stockings.
"Noona, that one's actually about twice as durable as the ones I planned to sell."
"Planned? So you're planning to sell lower quality to me... no, to future customers?"
"That way, it's less of a burden price-wise for both seller and buyer. Of course, I won't only sell mass-produced lower-grade stuff."
I explain my plan to Ardella: custom high-quality versions for select clients.
"Hm. Smart. That'll make your name even more valuable."
"Heh, that's what I thought."
Getting the thumbs-up from someone high up has my lips curling involuntarily.
"Then, mind if I become your first customer?"
"Pardon?"
Click.
Still seated, Ardella loosens the straps on her greaves and reaches to remove her iron boots.
"Ardella."
"Hm. Guess today isn't the day."
Ardella retightens the straps without taking off the boots. Kernax stands from the bed. Moments later, heavy footsteps pound down the hall toward us.
Thud! Thud! Crack—!!
—Huh...?
"What the fu—?"
I thought it was a firm knock, but a knight in silver plate mail smashes through the door and barges in. Even the knight seems startled, letting out a dumbstruck noise from under his helmet.
"Bellanis. What is it?"
"Ah, yes."
Crack.
At Ardella's call, the knight named Bellanis casually smashes the door to splinters with the hand that broke through it and steps inside like nothing happened.
"Someone came to the guild with an urgent rescue request. I think you should meet them yourself."
"Tch. Got it. Smith, we'll continue this later."
"Ah, yep."
The door-wrecking knight heads out, followed by Kernax and Ardella. Left alone, I sit on the bed staring at the shattered remnants.
Fuck, what do I do now? If I tell Amelia noona, she won't yell, but knowing her personality, I'll 100% have to cover the repair bill. Damn it. I'm seriously pissed.
...Not pissed enough to go confront them, though. That was just a knock gone wrong with freakish strength. Mouth off and I'd probably end up unidentifiable.
"But seriously, what's going on?"
They left so calmly after trashing my door, so it must be big. And from what I overheard, it's a guild rescue request. Guess I should head down and eavesdrop a bit?
Decision made, I step over my cold, dead door and carefully descend.
The dining hall should be rowdy with adventurers' drunken antics by now, but it's dead quiet. Not that there are no adventurers—more than usual are nursing their bland beer. The silence? Everyone's staring at the stairs leading to the first floor.
Go down like this, and all eyes on me. I sneak down to the kitchen instead. No Amelia noona in sight.
"Gonna use the back door real quick."
The kitchen staff, enjoying some rare peace thanks to the quiet adventurers, nod. I take the back stairs to the first floor. It's staff-only, so empty as expected—but I double-check before cracking open the reception door.
—Th-th-then...
—Speak slowly. No need to shake—say it clearly, word by word.
A familiar woman's voice hits my ears first, followed by Ardella soothing her.
—Hoo, haa... Hoo, haa...
After catching her breath a few times, the woman starts explaining her arrival here—slowly and deliberately, just as Ardella wanted.
On the first day of their journey, thieves ambushed them at night, but they repelled them easily. They packed up early next morning and hit the road again, only to get hit again as the sun set. Unlike the night raid, daylight let them spot it coming, so they figured it'd be even easier than before. But it wasn't.
The thieves outnumbered the night group by a ridiculous margin. The woman in charge judged they'd have to abandon some cargo and stepped forward. But the moment she did, she spotted a suspicious figure midway up the mountain in a robe etched with bizarre symbols—and bolted.
In this land of religious freedom with countless faiths, even that robe—covered in the impure symbols of heretics—was universally reviled. Not just her; the hired adventurers and mercenaries recognized it too. They fought desperately to break the encirclement—not thieves, but heretics.
The non-combatant woman entrusted her safety to the group's strongest, a silver-rank adventurer, and he kept his word. They fled through the mountains for two straight days, but got boxed in by some creepy power from what she guessed was a heretic priest. The adventurer hid her under a rotten tree stump, baited the heretics away, and drew them off as far as possible. She stayed put another full day before crawling out and sprinting here—to Molingta. And now, finally, she'd made it.
By the end of her tale, I'd slipped through the reception door. My sudden entrance draws every eye in the room, including the woman's, who's just finished her long story.
Gone is the elegant figure from before she left. Her hair's a tangled mess, her dress torn to shreds. Mud and dirt cake her face and body. Marcolin Vincent—one of the Golden Reed Caravan leaders, the woman who'd hired Siron—has returned to the Adventurer's Guild alone, looking like a beggar.