Part 8: Fraud

The first thing he had thrown was a dagger.

The next, judging by his throwing stance, had been some kind of spear.

What he had swung after closing in was probably a two-handed sword.

Elin was watching Frondier fight, over and over again.

After revisiting the scene countless times, she had begun to identify his invisible weapons one by one. She could even make rough estimates of their types, lengths, and weights.

And finally, the sword Frondier had used to cut down the Golem.

That sword alone had not been transparent. Elin had seen it clearly with her own eyes.

Frondier had not used Aura, and even the technique behind his slash had still been visibly clumsy. Yet he had cut through the Golem with ease.

The weapon itself had to be in a class of its own.

But somehow, she felt as though she had seen it somewhere before—

"Elin! Elin!"

"...!"

Elin opened her eyes. She was in her classroom.

Her classmate Giselle was waving a hand in front of her face.

"Well, this is new. You only ever slept while walking, and now you're sleeping in class. Actually, is this more normal? Should I be relieved?"

"I wasn't sleeping."

She had been.

Elin was so well versed in sleep that, astonishingly, she had reached the point where she could choose her own dreams.

With recent events, she could even revisit her memories and review them, as she had just been doing.

In any case, Frondier truly was a mysterious person.

Lazy, with neither ambition nor any desire to improve. A talentless failure whose abilities were merely average, with nothing to his name but his distinguished family.

... That was certainly what the rumors had said.

Rumors were never trustworthy, but could they really be this far off the mark?

What on earth had the people spreading them seen of Frondier?

"How's your side?"

"... Oh, it's fine."

As she answered Giselle, Elin checked her side.

It was still bandaged, but the pain wasn't enough to interfere with everyday life. By her standards, of course.

She had avoided the Golem's spear, but it had still left a fairly deep gash.

"Honestly, you do nothing but sleep every day, but you recover from things like this so quickly. I can't tell whether your stamina is good or bad."

"Walking in my sleep is simply a means of conserving energy—"

"Yes, yes. I know."

Giselle waved her hand, unwilling to listen to an explanation she had already heard more than enough times.

Hmm. A little embarrassed, Elin pursed her lips. Had she really talked about it that much?

"Even if it was your friend, handling it alone was far too reckless. You should have called for help or told a teacher. I'm glad you resolved it, though."

"... I didn't have a chance. Edwin seemed to be in a dangerous state."

Elin felt a little guilty even as she spoke.

As Giselle's words showed, the other students at Constel thought Elin had resolved the incident on her own.

They didn't know there had been someone else who deserved far more credit than she did. But Elin hadn't told them.

That was entirely at Frondier's own request.

["You don't need to lie, but please don't go out of your way to tell people I was there that day. It'll only complicate things. It could also lead to needless misunderstandings about Edwin."]

Since he had put it that way, Elin hadn't made a point of mentioning his presence.

... Had Frondier been hiding his achievements like this all along?

... Surely not?

"You said you need a new sword?"

"Yes. I'm going to look for one today."

Elin's sword had been ruined after the fight with the Golem.

It was because of Falling Tension, the technique that disarmed an opponent.

Atzier's original Falling Tension supposedly didn't leave so much as a scratch on the opponent's weapon.

But the Golem's version had been so crude and rough that her sword had already been battered beyond repair.

... It was rather irritating to have fallen victim to such a crude technique.

Unfortunately, she was now far away from the blacksmith she had always relied on.

Both Elin and her younger brother Aster had traveled all this way to attend Constel.

She would have to find a weapons shop or a blacksmith near the school.

Giselle grinned slyly.

"Want me to come along? Somehow, I can just see you getting scammed while shopping for a replacement sword."

"... Ugh. No, I'm fine."

She had actually been about to ask, but that remark made her lose all desire to do so.

Fine. She would inspect the swords herself and make her own decision.

Getting scammed? Just who did Giselle think she was?

* * *

"My dear customer, when choosing a sword, shouldn't you be choosing a partner who will remain at your side for life?"

"... You're absolutely right, but—"

"Indeed! That is precisely why you must use one of our swords made from unbreakable steel—"

Her head was spinning.

Elin was reeling under the merchant's torrent of long-winded explanations.

At first, she had certainly been examining the swords carefully with her own eyes.

Then the merchant had sidled over and begun recommending various weapons. The prices had gradually climbed, until matters had reached this point.

Swept along by his momentum and the flow of the conversation, she felt she would end up buying this sword. The thought that perhaps it was worth buying was quietly taking root.

In truth, the purchase was already decided. All that remained was for her to justify it to herself.

The perceptive merchant noticed and spoke with even greater enthusiasm.

"What do you think? Naturally, the price of a fine sword made from unbreakable steel of the highest purity is not negotiable. But once it is yours, it will be a steadfast companion, protecting not only you but the lives of your loved ones—"

"You're saying that's unbreakable steel?"

A voice interrupted the merchant.

He quickly turned toward the man who had cut him off and gave him a genial smile.

"Ah, of course. This steel is produced through a special process using ore obtained from Vasteres, the Year-Round Glacier in the north."

The man quietly studied the sword, giving no indication whether he was listening to the explanation.

Elin stared at him blankly, a little surprised.

It was Frondier.

"Would you be interested as well, sir? If you use a sword, this would be absolutely perfect—"

Frondier laughed. Elin didn't know what he found so funny about the merchant's pitch, but he said,

"That's like calling cubic zirconia a diamond."

"... What? W-what did you say?"

The merchant stood dumbfounded at Frondier's matter-of-fact remark for a moment, then quickly knitted his brows. Startled herself, Elin looked at the sword again.

Did that mean it was a fake?

"Who do you think you are, coming in here and picking a fight? Are you calling this a fake?"

"Yes. Never mind unbreakable steel—it has so many impurities that it doesn't even qualify as proper steel. Scrap metal, you might say."

"S-scrap metal? Hey! You little bastard! That's enough out of you! Have you got any proof?! Where do you get off spouting that bullshit?"

The merchant flew into a towering rage. Despite having all that shouting right beside him, Frondier remained utterly unruffled.

Really, composure like that deserved respect.

"Proof, hmm?" Frondier murmured serenely. He took the supposedly magnificent sword, held it horizontally, then swept his other hand down through the air in front of it.

CLANG!

Somehow, his hand passing through empty air in front of the blade produced a loud crash.

And the sword broke in two.

"H-hah!"

The merchant recoiled in shock.

He was probably more shocked that Frondier had broken it with his bare hand than by the broken sword itself. That was how it would look to an ordinary person.

Of course, Elin had some idea of what had actually happened, but naturally, she kept her mouth shut.

"If you advertise a sword like this as unbreakable steel, I might let it slide, but the Smithingd Association certainly won't."

"I-I didn't know! I'm just a merchant! I take deliveries and introduce the products!"

"I see. So you and all the manufacturers supplying you have been committing crimes. We'll have to arrest the lot of you."

"Y-you can do that?"

"Of course. The Roah name is more than enough."

Roah. The instant he heard that name, the merchant fell to his knees and bent forward until he was practically flat on the floor.

"I'm sorry. This was my own wrongdoing. I've made a tidy profit with similar sales pitches a few times before. No one else was involved."

He was confessing every detail of his past crimes without even being asked.

Frondier shrugged at the sight, then turned to Elin.

"Well, what should we do?"

"... Hmm? Me?"

"Of course. You're the one he nearly scammed."

Unsure how to react, Elin's eyes wandered.

Right. She really had nearly been scammed.

"Well, we should report him, shouldn't we?"

She might have nearly fallen for a scam, but Elin was merciless when it came to crime.

She hadn't been drawn in because she was weak-willed.

She simply hadn't known any better.

The merchant let out a choked groan of despair.

* * *

"By the way, why are you looking for a sword? What happened to your old one?"

"It's too damaged to use. Because of the Golem's Falling Tension."

After leaving the weapons shop, the two walked along a brick-paved street.

They were in Rubagne, an area near Constel famous for its varied shops and food.

Eating one of Rubagne's specialties, Twin-Egg Bread, Frondier tilted his head.

"Because of Falling Tension...?"

"Yes. I suppose what the Golem used wasn't a proper Falling Tension."

Frondier seemed to consider that.

"I see. So an incomplete Falling Tension damages the opponent's weapon," she heard him mutter.

"What about you? Falling Tension knocked your weapon out of your hand too. Though you caught it again."

Elin recalled the weapon Frondier had used at the end.

Come to think of it, that was strange. His weapon should have been damaged by Falling Tension as well, yet he showed no sign of it.

"Oh... Mine wasn't in good condition to begin with. I noticed it was more damaged after the incident and wondered why, but I didn't realize it was because of Falling Tension."

It took Frondier a little while, but he offered a plausible answer.

Elin pictured the sword.

True, its design and casting method had looked old-fashioned.

... The more she thought about it, the more certain she felt that she had seen that sword somewhere before.

"Still, for a sword, you're better off going to a trustworthy blacksmith than a weapons shop."

"That's what I used to do, but I don't have those connections here at Constel."

Elin spoke calmly, but now that things had come to this, she realized she was in more trouble than she had thought.

If this was her situation, her younger brother Aster would be in much the same position.

She had to find a solution.

"In that case, shall I introduce you to someone?" Frondier offered.

"You know a blacksmith?"

"Yes. Oh, I suppose 'introduce' isn't the right word. We don't know each other."

That was a strange thing to say.

"You know a blacksmith, but you don't know each other?"

"Hmm. The circumstances are a little too complicated to explain. But he's genuinely trustworthy."

Elin considered it briefly, but her deliberation didn't last long. She decided to trust Frondier.

Otherwise, she might end up getting scammed again. Frondier, who had just exposed a fraud, was a far better option.

"Then I'll take you up on your kindness."

"It's nothing."

Frondier's reply was short, as though it truly were no trouble at all.

Elin studied his profile for a moment.

His face certainly looked languid. Sleepy, even.

Would I look like that if I could watch myself sleeping? she suddenly wondered.

"... Frondier."

"Yes?"

"Why are you helping me?"

"..."

"Why? Last time, and now, too."

Elin had asked him before why he had saved her. Just before collapsing, Frondier had looked at her and called her someone who must not die.

She didn't really understand what he had meant.

If she took it at face value, her thoughts led her to a very childish possibility.

Perhaps the kindness Frondier was showing her meant—

"... Elin, you're..."

Frondier began to speak. He gazed steadily at her, apparently weighing his words.

Even that pause made it seem as though he felt something for her—

"Like a child left alone by the water."

"... What?"

"You sleepwalk, remember?"

"... No, that's not sleepwalking. It's a sleeping method I developed to conserve energy in preparation for emergencies—"

"And you nearly got scammed just now."

"I have no defense for that one."

Frondier smiled at her frank admission.

"There aren't many people I worry about. Usually, everyone's too busy worrying about me."

Come to think of it, was Frondier, the Human Sloth, worrying about her?

Her, a swordswoman hailed as one of the most skilled at Constel?

... It was rather humiliating.

"Your worries are misplaced. What happened earlier was just because I don't have much experience with this sort of thing, and I'll get used to it soon. Even when I'm sleeping while walking, I wake up on my own if there's danger, and I'm much more careful than you think."

"Now that's when you should say, 'You're absolutely right.'"

Frondier's reply was teasing.

He was clearly throwing back the answer she had given the merchant earlier.

... No, wait.

Then did that mean...?

"... How long were you watching me talk to that merchant?"

"Since he asked, 'That sword is nice, miss, but how about this one over here?'"

Practically from the beginning.

"So you were watching him reel me in the whole time?"

"Ah—anyway, I'll contact you separately about the blacksmith—"

"Are you going to answer my question or not?"