Old Hughes.

The aging blacksmith known by that name owned the largest smithy in Cambria and was something of a leader on Artisans' Street. His authority was such that even his stubbornness was regarded as an artisan's virtue.

His gruff, unrestrained tongue and prickly manner often set adventurers gossiping, but his skill was unquestionably genuine.

He had spent decades hammering iron.

He was skilled enough to secure a position even in the imperial capital, and could have earned the title of master artisan had he set his mind to it. But old Hughes disliked being tied down, so he had settled in this city instead.

'There's no way I misjudged it.'

With all that experience, old Hughes knew. The sword in his hands was the work of someone skilled enough to be called a master artisan. He examined the sword the young man had brought once more.

The way the sword was finished. The channels etched into the blade for mana to flow through. Its perfect balance and seemingly custom-made hilt.

It was an utterly plain sword, devoid of ornament. Yet that very simplicity revealed the blacksmith's years of experience. As he inspected the longsword closely, old Hughes could only marvel.

Simplicity that forsook ornamentation. A sword whose beauty lay in its clean lines.

It was so faithful to a blacksmith's fundamental purpose that comparing it to the work of youngsters these days would be an insult.

'But...'

The problem lay elsewhere.

Had it merely been a well-made sword, old Hughes would have done no more than voice his admiration. But he had discovered something: traces of Atanga within the sword.

Back when he was still young, when he had been an apprentice, he had worked at a smithy contracted to the Atanga Knight Order. He had wanted to learn forging under a renowned master artisan. In those days, Hughes had watched the senior blacksmiths forge from closer than anyone.

Knights who upheld honor and pride. The knights of Atanga, guardians of the ancient precepts.

The lumps of iron the master artisan hammered for those knights had seemed to breathe with life, and the weapons completed at the end of that fierce hammering had been infinitely beautiful.

'... I know because I've seen it.'

It was a sight he had not forgotten even after decades.

Recalling it, old Hughes ran his index and middle fingers down the flat of the longsword. This distinctive finishing method was used for the swords of Atanga's knights. Yet something felt off, and he narrowed his eyes.

This was exactly the same finishing method Hughes had seen decades ago. Didn't the current Atanga Knight Order finish its swords a little differently?

The longsword had been finished using techniques of an older generation. Yet the sword in his hands did not look as though much time had passed since it was forged.

“Ah, Master Hughes.”

While he was lost in thought, the blacksmith beside him whispered in his ear.

“That adventurer is the one. You know, the fellow who recently went up three ranks at once...”

“... The one who killed the Bloodred Troll single-handedly?”

“Yes, I believe that's him.”

The adventurer who had recently set all Cambria abuzz.

Old Hughes narrowed his eyes at Najin, who stood blankly before him. He had thought the fellow a mere greenhorn, but on closer inspection, his stance was solid.

'Calluses.'

Calluses covered the joints of the young man's fingers. And his weight was shifted to one side. He had the air of a seasoned swordsman, always ready to draw his blade.

“You there.”

The old man returned Najin's sword.

“Hold that sword for me.”

“Why, all of a sudden?”

Without another word, Najin gripped the hilt.

The other blacksmith failed to notice, but old Hughes did not. The young man's build, the length of the hilt, the balance when he held the sword... everything fit perfectly.

It looked custom-made for him.

This sword was for that young man alone.

“That's enough. You can put it away.”

“You've been doing this for a while now.”

Najin let out a long sigh. After securing the sword at his waist, he looked old Hughes straight in the eye.

“I came to get my sword repaired. Why all the questions?”

“Because it's important. Will you tell me who made it?”

Najin remained silent, apparently unwilling to tell him. Old Hughes shrugged. Perhaps he had stumbled across some extraordinary opportunity somewhere. He did think the sword was more than the young man deserved, but...

'A blacksmith who forged a sword like that couldn't have such a rotten eye for people.'

Whatever it was, there must be something special about him.

Why had the smith made him an old-generation Atanga sword? Why make him a sword of such quality? There were countless things Hughes did not understand, but he did not pry. There was something his senior had always said.

「A blacksmith only needs to hammer iron well.」

「What do we care whether the fellow holding the sword is a once-in-an-age genius or some fallen noble who's been knocking around who knows where?」

「We're blacksmiths. Stick to your trade.」

Old Hughes clicked his tongue.

“So can you repair it or not?”

“It doesn't need repairing. You could use it for another dozen-odd years and it'd still be perfectly sound, without a scratch.”

“... What?”

“That's how this sword was made. I don't know who forged it... but they seem to have put a hell of a lot of effort into its durability. It's been hammered so it won't break under ordinary circumstances.”

It was a little heavier than other swords of the same size, after all.

Old Hughes sighed and glanced at Najin.

“Your name's Ivan, right?”

“That's right.”

“Then you must be the fellow the trading company head said she'd send over. I was going to give you a sword and send you on your way...”

The old man glanced at the longsword secured at Najin's waist.

“But you won't need one. Come inside. I'll show you something else.”

2.

“Then we'll have them sent to this address.”

After arranging for his purchases from the smithy to be delivered to his lodgings, Najin continued down the street. He had been able to buy a surprisingly wide variety of things at nearly half price.

It was thanks to the letter of introduction from the head of the Dieta Trading Company, which sponsored the smithy.

He had stocked up well, getting basic armor and backup weapons that would help in an emergency. Even old Hughes, prickly at first, had begun showing interest midway through and helped Najin choose his armor.

「You've got a good eye.」

Recalling old Hughes's satisfied smile as he said that, Najin walked on. He stopped at the alchemists' stalls to buy a few basic potions and picked out several useful items. Then he stopped in his tracks.

CLINK

Test tubes filled with bloodred liquid lined a stall. It was laden with drugs called performance enhancers. The distinctive stench of those drugs was familiar to Najin.

“That's the Fresh Blood School,” Merlin murmured in his ear.

“Don't touch that stuff. Buy the wrong thing and you'll get addicted. The effects don't last long, but the backlash after taking it is no joke.”

“I wasn't planning to buy any in the first place.”

Murmuring that, Najin turned the name Fresh Blood School over in his mind. Had Hakan, the alchemist who had forced him to draw Excalibur in the underground city, belonged to that school too?

Come to think of it, more than a month had already passed since he left the underground city. Time seemed to have gone both terribly quickly and terribly slowly.

“...”

Suddenly, Najin looked up at the sky in silence.

The blue sky and brilliant sunshine. Things that had felt strange and unfamiliar when he first came outside were familiar now. It had been a long time since he last sought out a gloomy, damp spot in the shade to rest.

Things he was gradually growing used to. Things he now enjoyed as a matter of course.

Feeling a renewed appreciation for them, Najin walked on. People on Artisans' Street occasionally recognized him, glancing at him as though he were a celebrity before passing by.

One alchemist approached him and asked whether he would consider trying their creations. A blacksmith offered him equipment bearing their maker's mark.

Cambria, the City of Opportunity. Many coveted the reputation Najin was building as he seized opportunities in this city and rose swiftly through the ranks. Naturally, the equipment used by the city's most talked-about adventurer of late would attract the attention of countless others.

“...”

They were good offers, but Najin accepted none of them. He had no need to. He crossed Artisans' Street and headed toward its center.

A place where artisans and merchants mingled. A street densely packed with the trading companies of Cambria, the City of Opportunity.

Najin walked toward the largest trading house on that street. Unlike last time, the guard who recognized him did not block his path.

Najin stepped onto the trading house's stairs with a tap.

His reason for declining all those offers from blacksmiths and alchemists was nothing complicated. Someone had made him a far more attractive offer. When he reached the top floor of the Dieta Trading Company, someone was there to welcome him.

“Welcome.”

The head of the Dieta Trading Company, Dieta Arbenia—the Snake That Swallows Gold—smiled at Najin.

3.

Dieta's office, on the trading company's top floor.

“I told you I had an eye for people. Though I didn't expect you to jump three ranks all at once.”

Dieta chatted with Najin, her face wreathed in smiles. She was in an excellent mood, naturally because of the young man sitting before her.

Ivan, the adventurer guaranteed by the Dieta Trading Company.

News of his three-rank promotion had even made the newspapers, sending the company's reputation soaring lately. Dieta had no intention of letting that momentum slip away.

“This is what I told you about last time.”

She beckoned with a finger. The secretary standing beside her handed Najin a wooden box.

“Open it.”

Inside the box lay neatly folded leather armor. Its black surface carried a faint reddish sheen. It was not difficult to guess what it was made from.

It was armor made from the Bloodred Troll's hide.

About a week earlier, Najin had sold the Bloodred Troll's hide to Dieta. He could have taken money, but instead he had asked her to have armor made from it, and Dieta had accepted.

The arrangement benefited Najin more, but she had decided there was nothing to lose on her side either.

“We've used about sixty percent for the armor, and I plan to use the remaining forty percent elsewhere. Some of the most skilled artisans we sponsor made it, so you can count on the quality.”

“Go try it on,” Dieta said, pointing to a room in one corner of the office. A short while later, Najin emerged after changing.

The armor had been custom-made to fit his build.

Its stylish design resembled a knight order's uniform more than a suit of armor. Being leather, it allowed him to move easily, and the Bloodred Troll's hide offered protection that ordinary blades would struggle to cut through.

Najin rubbed his sleeves, looking uncomfortable. He had never worn clothes like these before. Still, they felt good on him.

“It's nice. Thank you.”

No reply came. Najin tilted his head and glanced at Dieta. She was staring at him with wide eyes.

Until now, Najin had worn nothing but loose, light clothing. He was fairly good-looking, but he had never properly dressed himself up. Seeing him in a proper outfit like this, though...

He cut quite a striking figure.

There was certainly a reason people said clothes made the man.

After staring in a brief daze, Dieta slowly nodded. Her gaze moved to the emblem on Najin's clothes—the symbol of the Dieta Trading Company. This was why she had accepted his proposal.

“It suits you.”

This adventurer is sponsored by the Dieta Trading Company. So don't even think about laying a hand on him.

Nothing conveyed that message as effectively as proper equipment. With this, perhaps even that damned Red Eyes would show a little restraint.

'It isn't easy to sponsor equipment of this caliber, is it?'

Only a company like hers, which had snapped up so many artisans, could manage it. Dieta rose with a bright smile and stood before Najin. Their slight difference in height naturally left him looking down at her.

She swept back her hair with a soft rustle and spoke.

“Then shall we take a little walk together?”

This, too, was part of the contract.

In exchange for having the armor made cheaply, he would spend a day or so in her company. Dieta had a reason for including that condition.

She needed people to see.

Walking the streets with Najin would show off her close relationship with this adventurer. It would demonstrate that the rapidly rising adventurer and the Dieta Trading Company had an ongoing association.

'And we seem to make quite a picture, too.'

Dieta offered her hand as though asking Najin to escort her. Having never received any training in such things, he took it as though they were shaking hands.

“Whew...”

At the sight, Pasion, the guard knight standing beside them, sighed and taught Najin how to escort a lady. As he instructed Najin, who would be guarding Dieta for the day, in this and that, a chill ran down his spine.

A greenhorn who knew nothing of the world, and his mistress, who acted on whatever caught her fancy.

He doubted a stroll involving those two would go smoothly.

And his intuition proved correct exactly thirty minutes after Najin and Dieta went out.

“You insolent bastard...!”

A certain noble's guard knight had drawn his sword.

“Why are you so damn long-winded?”

Najin spoke expressionlessly, tapping his sword hilt.

“If you're that confident, come at me.”

An insult was to be washed away with a duel.

“Isn't that one of a knight's precepts?” Najin murmured. At that, the guard knight lost all reason. He stripped off his leather glove and hurled it at Najin's face.

It was a challenge to a duel.

Naturally, the glove never struck Najin's face. He caught it in midair and flung it to the ground.

“Throw it on the ground. Why the fuck are you throwing it at my face?”

“How dare you speak like that in the presence of—!”

“You said you wanted a duel.”

Najin drew his sword.

SHING

“What are you doing? Draw your sword.”

The speechless knight. The crimson face of the noble he served. Dieta barely holding back her laughter. And, finally, Najin, letting his sword point hang with an utterly indifferent expression.

It was a scene more than sufficient to draw the attention of the city's adventurers.