Esther's former spell world had been born from observing nature. She had originally lived in the mountains and wandered the forests. She had killed monsters, faced demonic beasts, and fought no small number of mages, but against the long span of her life, those were mere moments. Most of her life had been spent with nature.

Now, however, she found observing people interesting. Even after parting with Encrid, she continued looking around the market.

People haggling, porters laden with goods, a noblewoman wearing a broad-brimmed hat as though she disliked the sunlight, a child playing in that sunlight, the parent scolding the child, a man tearing at his hair inside a newly opened café selling all manner of drinks.

She observed them, trying to gauge their thoughts and intentions.

'Interesting.'

Watching them was more entertaining than she had expected.

The process of getting here had been rather interesting, too. Even Esther knew that buying things at the market required Krona. She had chosen the most rational way of obtaining it.

She had followed Krais around, watching him steadily. Very steadily.

["... Nurat, what did I do wrong?"]

Krais had whispered upon seeing her. Nurat considered what she could do against a mage, and an exceptionally skilled one at that.

Her woman's sixth sense, her warrior's intuition, and what she knew from knowing Krais personally. Combining all of these, Nurat chose the best course available to her.

["Beg her forgiveness."]

["That would be quickest, wouldn't it?"]

Krais nodded, too. Apologize first. Even when he went to another city, the witch's eyes would be watching him from somewhere. It was perfect nightmare material.

He had long since decided that Esther was a witch, not a beauty. Was she finally taking him to task for having coveted her claws back when she was a panther?

["Yes, I'm sorry."]

Krais spoke toward the watching eyes. The builders' guild leader, who had come seeking a favor from the man known as the city's power behind the scenes and Lord Graham's master, blinked.

["Pardon?"]

["I'm not talking to you."]

At his words, Esther approached, gliding over the ground.

CRASH!

["Aagh!"]

The startled guild leader toppled backward. Krais's heart lurched in fright as well, but he did not disgrace himself by falling over. His time with the lunatic unit had strengthened his nerves.

Esther merely approached without speaking. She continued to stare.

She wondered what would happen if she kept following and watching this man, who was quietly afraid of her, this walking treasure pouch overflowing with Krona. Especially since he was so extraordinarily perceptive.

["... What is it?"]

Krais asked, his mind racing. Why was this crazy witch doing this? Had Encrid been a bad influence? There were good things to learn from the Captain, but bad ones as well. Sometimes he really did seem like a crazy bastard.

Of course, even that might deeply impress some people. Not Krais.

["Is there something you need?"]

As Krais calmly asked, the builders' guild leader cried out from the ground at their feet, still unable to get up.

["A ghost!"]

["No. She's with the lunatics... No, she's the Black Flower, from the unit under the General of Border Guard's direct command."]

The guild leader blinked at Krais's explanation. Only then did Esther's beauty register: white skin, black hair, blue eyes, long, straight legs, and clothing that offered subtle glimpses of skin.

The flower blooming beside the Demon Killer.

["Ah."]

Leaving the guild leader to his astonishment, Krais asked again.

["Do you need Krona?"]

Esther held out a hand. Looking at it, he wondered what in the world he was supposed to do with these lunatic bastards.

If she needed something, she could simply ask the quartermaster and have it settled. Why come and do this to him?

Then again, he could hardly picture this witch called the Black Flower visiting the quartermaster to demand a few silver coins.

Krais handed over one of the pouches he carried. It held more than a hundred silver coins. That should be plenty.

Esther did not withdraw her hand.

["Try gold coins."]

Nurat offered the advice, and Krais followed it. Esther obtained three more pouches that day.

Recalling that moment, the mage privately thought it had been an enjoyable experience. His reactions, her own actions, all of it.

'Then why is Enkie...?'

Thinking of Encrid, whom she had just parted with, Esther felt her heart tighten. It tingled and constricted because her emotions had stirred. Where did this feeling come from? Why did it resonate in her heart? Should she have followed him?

Was she worried about his absentmindedness, coming to the market without a single gold coin?

She did not know. In truth, it probably did not matter. There would be no particular right answer, either.

Did that bother her, then? No. This, too, was part of the person she was. She need only face it.

As the tingling spread from her heart throughout her body, Esther experienced what it meant for the heart to ache.

Nothing would change whether this was romantic affection, simple friendship, or even a passing whim.

There was just one thing that troubled her.

'His eyebrows.'

Hadn't the inner ends of Encrid's eyebrows been raised a little? Observation had become her daily routine, and she had noticed the slight change in their position. Somehow, his brows looked less resolute. His expression seemed a little different.

Why would his expression change? Because his mindset had changed. That was what Esther thought.

Encrid's mindset had changed. That was what her observations had told her.

Even knowing that, she had nothing in particular to say. In the distance, she could see his back as he made his way out through the market.

Esther would live like this for a while. Eventually, she would rebuild her spell world. Then, if that man wanted it, she would lend him her strength.

Not because he had freed her from her curse, but simply because she wanted to. Her heart told her to, and she did not ignore its voice.

She focused on her own work: observing and rebuilding her spell world. For now, she believed that would be enough.

* * *

"... You've come?"

The craftsman who owned the smithy recognized Encrid. He had seen him from a distance before, and Encrid's appearance was striking enough.

The smithy stood near the city's outskirts. Previously, the craftsman from the capital had borrowed a forge, but now he had opened his own smithy with his own bellows and equipment. He should originally have returned to the capital, but had stayed in Border Guard instead. Encrid did not know why.

Well, he must have stayed because there was no problem with doing so.

It was a guess, but a correct one. Even the blacksmiths' guild leader at the palace had accepted it, despite some regret. Though the man's skills were good, the guild leader found the stubborn, rigid craftsman who had no idea how to deal with people rather difficult.

For that reason, the craftsman himself preferred it here. All he had to do was hammer away in peace. And with Border Guard now called a peddler's paradise, all sorts of rare goods passed through.

He made nothing but weapons and took no additional apprentices. Had the guild leader in the capital seen him, he would have marveled at the man's stubbornness.

His business was not large, and he was too stubborn to tailor his wares to customers' tastes. Ordinarily, he would have earned enough to live on but struggled to acquire rare materials. Instead, he was not strapped for money at all; he was rather well-off. Border Guard supplied any Krona he lacked.

At Krais's request, he supplied weapons to the barracks. That alone gave him more than enough work.

["Sometimes, I'll take time to make what I want to make."]

It was possible because Krais accepted his stubbornness as it was.

This was the craftsman who had made Rem's and Ragna's weapons using Lewis iron and black gold. Krais had recognized his exceptional skill.

["Your weapon is your skill."]

Krais had heard that often enough himself.

The craftsman's work stood apart in both finish and quality. That was why Krais had chosen this one out of Border Guard's seven smithies.

The number of craftsmen had grown, bringing many more smithies and other shops, so this forge on the outskirts was relatively quiet. No, there was clearly plenty of work; it only seemed quiet because no customers came calling.

In fact, it now operated directly under Border Guard's barracks, and anyone above a certain rank did not even have to pay.

A human, a Frog, and a dwarf sat inside. Encrid had been staring at the three when the craftsman greeted him.

"I need a few things."

As Encrid answered, the craftsman's apprentice emerged from the back with a towel wrapped around his head.

"Huh? The Demon Killer!" he cried.

"Yes. Good to meet you."

"Ah, forgive me!"

The apprentice bowed. In his surprise, he felt he had called out the man's title too casually. Encrid waved a hand, telling him it was fine.

"So, what do you need?"

At the craftsman's question, Encrid unfastened his weapons one by one and held them out.

"The joint on this one's loose, and I wondered if this one could be repaired. I'd also like you to tend to the blades overall."

"Is that Aker?"

The sword vibrated with a hum. Startled by the trembling blade, the craftsman pulled his hand off the grip.

He had once tended the royal house's swords, and had seen Aker then. Just as a young man in his prime would remember an extraordinary beauty's face even ten years later, the craftsman remembered Aker.

"It is."

Encrid answered, still standing. The apprentice glanced about, then brought over a low stool. There were no seats for customers here, so he had fetched one they used while working. Encrid sat without minding.

"Why is a treasured sword of the royal house here?" the craftsman asked in astonishment.

"They gave it to me."

"This?"

Encrid gave a nod. Some knew he had been given the treasured sword, but naturally, many more did not.

Even Marquis Vaisar would take Krang to task at least once if he learned of this. He would not confiscate the sword or say it should never have been given away, but with others watching, he would have to raise some objection.

In any case, Krang had made the transfer go smoothly by keeping most people ignorant of the entire affair. If they found out later, he could simply brush it off with, What are you going to do about it now?

"I can't touch this. It's a wonder the sword still holds an edge at all. I don't know how to heat weapons with magic."

The craftsman spoke honestly, flicking a glance at the dwarf beside him before turning back to the gladius and taking hold of it. His eyes sparkled as though he were eager to work out how to tend to it. Then his expression abruptly stiffened. He lowered the sword and spoke.

"Let me introduce you. This is Argan."

He pointed at the dwarf.

"Good to meet you."

The dwarf's greeting came with a strong smell of liquor.

"The Demon Killer and General of Border Guard, you say? You're in luck."

Bad breath mingled with the smell of liquor as the dwarf continued.

Oddly enough, despite the lively conversation beside him, the Frog sitting to one side never so much as looked their way.

Encrid took it all in stride and asked calmly, "What luck?"

"I'm planning to work iron and fire at this forge and create a masterpiece."

Encrid took in the self-assured dwarf and the human craftsman together. Believing he understood why the craftsman had stepped aside, he asked the human, "Is he more skilled than you?"

"He is."

The craftsman nodded, his pride apparently unhurt.

"Urp. Do you even need to ask?" the dwarf said with a belch.

"Ah, I have a few conditions. I'd like you to provide liquor and a decent house. I came from a place called Martai, and I left a bit of a tab there. Settle that for me, too."

He finished with another belch. It smelled of the cured meat he had stuffed down his gullet.

Dwarves were called the children of iron and fire. They possessed an innate gift for working both. Of course, that would not hold true for every dwarf. Just as there were Giants who sold goods, there would be dwarves with no interest in metalworking.

Not that this dwarf was one of them. His metalworking skills would indeed be exceptional, beyond comparison with the average craftsman.

"I'll vouch for his skill," said the craftsman who had been so startled by Aker.

Encrid nodded. Then he handed his gladius to the human craftsman.

"I'd like you to do it."

The dwarf froze with his hand outstretched. He had naturally expected the sword to be placed in it.

"Dwarf or not, skilled or not, I won't entrust my sword to someone with rotten eyes," Encrid said.

Only then did the Frog lift his head, apparently finished with one of his tasks, and roll his eyes toward them. The craftsman looked at the sword, and the dwarf snorted.

What did he just say?