How Much Would It Cost? (2)
"Welcome...?"
A customer had come to Cokes Weapon Shop.
He was still a boy in the full flush of growth.
Yet the clerks’ eyes went round as saucers, and the place erupted into chaos. A flurry of whispers raced among the staff, and in an instant Shopkeeper Cokes himself came thundering down from the upper floor.
"My goodness, Young Master—what brings you to such a humble place as this?"
"It's been a while. I’ve just returned from a bit of travel."
This was the first time Roy had visited the shop in person. Until now free outings had been impossible, and the publicly known maker of magic-imbued weapons had always been Geren.
"So—how is business?"
"Thriving, of course. All thanks to the care Your Young Mastership has shown us."
Cokes bowed so low his forehead nearly kissed the floor. Roy answered with a bright smile.
The other customers who overheard the exchange were stunned.
The young lord of the domain?
Among the shop’s regulars were even those of count’s blood. That much was common knowledge, spread by frequent rumor. Yet even when dealing with such people, Cokes was famous for never yielding an inch. Before the prestige of the Greenhilt and Karl Mercenary Group crests painted on the signboard, who would dare take the shopkeeper to task? In fact, the shop’s iron rule was that anyone who tried to throw their weight around would simply not be sold a weapon.
Of course such stories tended to grow in the telling, but those who had witnessed the weapons’ monstrous performance believed every word as absolute truth.
And now that same haughty, imposing shopkeeper was treating a mere boy with a deference several times more scrupulous than he had ever shown anyone else.
Ears pricked; people leaned in, desperate to know why.
"I came today because I have something I want to show you. I heard there’s a smithy nearby as well—is that right?"
"Indeed. Go down the alley to the right of the shop and you’ll be nose-to-nose with it."
"A forge right in the middle of the city…"
Roy was fiercely curious about the smithy, but he had planned today’s route for maximum efficiency to save time. Regrettably there would be no chance to visit. The baron had driven home the absolute ban on overnight stays, so time management was essential.
"Send someone at once and fetch the general-store owner and the smithy master. As fast as possible."
"Yes. At once."
The shopkeeper moved exactly as Roy directed. The watching customers could only click their tongues at the swiftness of it—yet at the same time their eyes glittered with burning curiosity about whatever the boy intended to show them.
"The item is rather long. May I bring it inside?"
"Of course, of course!"
Roy called Marek in from where he had been waiting outside the shop door. In the servant’s hands was something very long, wrapped tightly in cloth. The onlookers assumed it was a spear.
"Young Master, if I may—what is this?"
"I’ll show you once the others arrive."
A short while later the summoned owners of the general store and the smithy arrived. Without any further delay Roy ordered the cloth unwrapped. By then the crowd of spectators had already doubled.
"…Th-this is—?!"
A chorus of awed gasps burst from everyone who saw the contents.
A long rod so dazzling one could almost mistake it for pure gold. No—a horn.
"Wh-what on earth is this?"
"A unicorn’s horn."
At Roy’s words every person gathered on the first floor of the weapon shop was struck speechless. To see with their own eyes a unicorn’s horn they had only ever heard of in legend—what greater honor could there be? And this one stretched nearly three meters in a perfectly straight line, a thing that defied all reason.
Purifying this thing was a nightmare…
It had been a gamble. An unfounded idea: take the long, corrupted unicorn horn that had looked like a demon’s, and try to purify it using another ordinary unicorn horn. The length alone had forced them to hollow out a giant log just to make a vessel big enough to soak them together.
Fortunately the gamble paid off. After roughly two days of soaking both horns in water diluted with mana solution, the pitch-black horn recovered its original radiance—and because of its size, the golden light it now shed was even more magnificent.
"T-to bring such a precious thing here…"
"I wanted to ask all of you whether it could be worked into a weapon."
"You could simply have summoned us to the manor…"
Summoning people to the manor took far too long. One needed the baron’s permission first, and messengers had to run back and forth several times, devouring the hours. Now that Roy could go out freely, he preferred to move himself—and to start a rumor while he was at it.
Rumors travel faster than feet. He intended to use that fact so that craftsmen eager to work the unicorn horn themselves would come racing to him of their own accord.
"What do you intend to make with it?"
"I want it made into a wand."
"Ohh!"
The listeners’ imaginations took flight. A splendid staff completed from the golden horn of a unicorn. A great mage wielding it, casting mighty spells…
"Is it possible?"
The smithy master spoke first.
"That isn’t work for our side. You might want to look for a jeweler or artisan."
The general-store owner continued.
"I know a few decently skilled jewelers. But handling something this precious would be too much for them. None of them has ever made a wand either. That said, I’ve heard rumors of a famous wand-maker in Visvalt Territory."
"Hmm, good. I wasn’t planning to try anything today anyway. Would you use your connections to recruit the finest wand-maker in the entire kingdom? Don’t worry about the cost. I’ll cover everything."
"We will see to it, Young Master."
"I’ll put up a reward of ten gold coins for whoever brings me someone satisfactory. One hundred gold for the wand-maker himself. And if the finished wand pleases me, I’ll pay three hundred. Spread the word."
"W-what?!"
"Th-three hundred…"
"That’s another enormous—!"
Eyes bulged so hard it seemed they might pop out and roll across the floor; everyone was thunderstruck.
"Given the sums involved, I think you can all guess the level of person I’m looking for. I’ll leave it in your hands."
"O-of course."
"Without question."
"Even the most famous craftsman alive has probably never had the chance to touch a unicorn’s horn. They’ll come running like mad."
"Then please make the deadline as soon as possible. As you’ve no doubt heard, I have to leave for the royal capital in three months. So… anyone who can arrive within two months at the latest."
What Roy wanted more than any famous sword was a truly serviceable magic staff. For that purpose a unicorn’s horn would surpass every other material. When he had activated his Gold Eyes to check, he had confirmed an enormous concentration of mana packed inside the horn.
Lightning-struck wood? Something born of mere luck won’t even compare to what this will become.
Having achieved his purpose, Roy quietly left the weapon shop.
Next destination: the Karl Mercenary Group outpost. Nowhere better for spreading a rumor across the whole kingdom.
If anyone can drag useful people in, it’s those money-crazed mercenaries.
Roy and Marek crossed the street toward the building opposite.
The boy’s visit set the inside of the building abuzz.
When the weather turned cold, monster activity dwindled; at the end of January the mercenaries treated the season almost like a holiday. On top of that, the number of monsters rampaging inside the domain had dropped sharply of late. With time on their hands, the mercenaries either drifted in and out of the brothels, drank themselves senseless, or—like now—stamped their presence at the branch office. Fortune favors those who wait: the occasional emergency call still brought in handy pocket money. And in slack periods like this it paid to stay in the officers’ good graces. Connections mattered everywhere in the world.
"We’ve come to see the branch commander. Is he in?"
The question came not from Roy but from Marek. The long, cloth-wrapped object in his hands immediately pricked the mercenaries’ curiosity. Even the longest spears of the present day were never made that long—every mercenary knew that.
"Well, well, look who it is! Isn’t this the young master who brought down that ogre back then?"
At the booming voice that recognized him, the other mercenaries turned one by one.
"Good to see you. Were you one of the men with us that day?"
"Haha, that I was. Lucky enough to be there. You’ve changed so much I hardly knew you. Back then you were still just a little kid."
"How is Wolf Forest these days?"
"From the hills you can see, the monsters have all but vanished. The world’s changed a lot. All thanks to Master Geren, who’s also famous as your teacher. I’m using one of these weapons myself. Hahaha."
The mercenary casually showed the beloved sword at his hip. Most of the other mercenaries, too, had one or another of Roy’s magic-imbued weapons at their sides.
"That’s good to hear. Though I imagine the mercenaries miss the work."
"Haha, well, that’s true enough. But you only have to go to the next domain over and the monsters are still pouring out. Nothing for Your Young Mastership to worry about."
Roy and the mercenary chattered on like old comrades reunited. For Roy it was a pleasure to hear domain news he could never learn inside the manor; for the mercenary it was a chance to curry favor with the lord’s son. Their conversation never lagged, and the people around them listened with open curiosity.
Then someone came down from above. Word of Roy’s visit had reached the upper floor, and of course the branch commander himself descended to the first floor to greet the noble young master.
"Young Master! It’s been too long."
Roy exchanged greetings with Galbert, who had only recently taken office as the new branch commander. Galbert tried to usher him upstairs, but Roy deliberately kept the talk on the first floor—so every mercenary could hear. The length of the horn also made carrying it upstairs awkward.
"What brings you here today?"
"Look at this first."
Marek unwrapped the cloth once more. What followed was almost exactly the same sequence that had played out at the weapon shop. People gasped at the sight of the horn; when Roy announced the enormous reward, they nearly fainted.
While everyone took turns staring at the unicorn horn—
"I’ll leave it in your hands, then."
"Haha, no need to wait on those other merchants. We’ll use our own network and bring you the finest craftsman there is."
It seemed the competition Roy had hoped for was already taking shape. All he had to do now was wait quietly at the manor and the right person would come to him of their own accord.
With a thoroughly satisfied expression, Roy stepped back out of the Karl Mercenary Group outpost.