Magdala de Nemure:Volume06

Novel Illustrations

These are the novel illustrations that were included in Magdala de Nemure Volume 6

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Prologue

Metals were processed through different amalgamations or heating, and the results obtained would differ. It seemed all change was possible, and thus, it was said there should be a way to turn lead into gold.

However, there were things that changed more spontaneously than metals. A little added material, a little control, such would create completely different things, and would appear completely different.

A single line, a single conversation, could cause drastic changes.

The alchemist Kusla was trying to accept the situation before him, through this exaggerated thought process.

“You still want to eat? Some wine?”

Fenesis smoothly divided the food, and poured wine.

It was one thing if she could just serve food and wine, but she then said,

“Look, the crumbs are all over the place. Why is it that an alchemist can handle such fine things, but cannot eat their bread nicely?”

She said with a serious look, her hands not stopping at all as she swiftly picked up the breadcrumbs from the table, and even on Kusla’s clothes. If there was some on his mouth, she probably would have reached out for them. While not to the point of being annoyed, Kusla could not remain calm, for she was beaming as she looked up at him.

She hoped to remain by his side, to take care of him. She said that she wanted to grab onto what she yearned, and held his hand firmly. Kusla decided to hold her hand firmly too. Thus was the result, expected, yet a little unexpected, gaudy even.

At the very least, Kusla understood a few things. This was the first time in her life she was grabbing onto something she yearned before, and something he could not deal with easily. Also, there was the fact that his companions were snickering after witnessing them.

“The dishes today are delicious too.”

Her entire tribe was massacred, and she barely managed to survive, yet she was showing an innocent smile, as though she had experienced none of her tragic past.

No alchemist wanting to turn lead into gold would think of turning gold into lead.

“What is it?”

She was smiling, looking as though she was unperturbed by anything on this world, asking as she tilted her little head.

There was nothing wrong about it, and he too wanted to treasure it.

But despite her giving him a smile, he could not respond with one, for he was innately lacking in this aspect.

“Nothing.”

Whenever a situation changes, one has to change accordingly.

He knew this very well, but he could not change as quickly as alchemy.

Act 1

As the Queen of the Pagan Land Latria had converted to Orthodoxy, there was chaos in the North. Latria had been at war with the Southern countries for almost twenty years, and the just reason for the war was the conflict between the believers and the pagans.

Over a long while, there had been no battle with a decisive outcome, and if it kept on, it would be part of everyday life. Many were born while war was going on, and war lasted until they were suitable for marriage. The premise of the past was war, and at this point, there was too much at stake for them to stop.

And in this chaos, the ones that suffered most were the Claudius Knights, created to exterminate the pagans.

The Latrian Queen’s conversation was a ploy to prevent the Knights from gaining a proper foothold. Supporting her were the pagans living in the North, and the kings and nobles of Orthodoxy who were unhappy about the Knights’ rising power.

However, the Claudius Knights proved similar to the eight headed hydra in the myths of the pagans, that even after one or two heads were severed, it would not die easily.

They had veteran soldiers, outstanding commanders, overwhelming finances.

And alchemists performing miracles.

The Knights had begun their counterattack, and the alchemist Kusla and his gang had left the forces, headed towards a town the heretical inquisitor had once visited. It was said there was information relating to relics over there.

“But drifting around…really make us restless~.”

Weyland’s feet were nestled on the table, and he leaned back on the chair as he said so. He had long hair, stubble and beard on his face. He might resemble a bandit, but he was really an alchemist.

“I don’t really mind.”

In contrast, Kusla was pretty concerned about his appearance. While Weyland was bored to tears, nagging away, Kusla sat at another table, browsing a boy. Usually, there were two other girls around, but they were not around. The youngest Fenesis went to nap in the next room after lunch, while the blacksmith girl Irine was outside handling matters.

“I can’t just be contented with books like you there, Kusla. I can’t live if I don’t get to sweat lots before a furnace, feeling the scorching flames~~~~”

Weyland raised his arms towards the ceiling, like a poet making a dramatic confession.

Alchemists mostly were people researching metallurgy. Thus was the only common point between them, for each person’s methods, ambition, and purpose for research were far different. Weyland preferred to act, while Kusla preferred to read through books and rack his brains.

“And~”

No angel would descend from the ceiling to bless him, so Weyland put his arms down, looking a little spiteful as he looked towards Kusla.

“You might think anything’s fine as long as you get to hug and pat little Ul, Kusla. I’m really bored though~”

Kusla was not so foolish to take that seriously.

He flipped the page, shrugging.

“Well, I lent you Irine.”

She was a proper blacksmith girl with distinct red hair tied in a knot, always finishing her work completely in the workshop. At this tender shop, she was a first-rate blacksmith, and it was because of her that they managed to break through the enemy ranks twice. All credit for the dragon flamethrowers should belong to her.

“Well, little Irine? Seem like it’ll be nice to rub them~.”

Due to her laborious work, Irine’s body was pretty toned, and there were curves in the right places. Kusla once carried her, and knew how shapely her body was. It would feel nice rubbing them, it seemed.

In contrast, Fenesis was slender and weak, neither chest nor bum were visible. She was young, juvenile however, so a saving grace might be that there is still room for her to develop.

“Now that we’re talking about this, it does feel similar to hunting...”

“Huh?”

Kusla did not understand these words, so he looked towards Weyland. The latter closed his eyes, looking as though he was figuring out the amount of coal to be added to the fire.

“One person chases, another person runs, and they fight! Both chew on each other passionately, and be happy. Something like that. You understand~?”

Weyland flailed his arms, wrapping his body with his arms as he said.

But Kusla could somewhat understand what he was getting at. Irine was lively in whatever she did, and mastered things easily. She would charge forth right from the get go, never sparing any effort. Such was what Weyland wanted to express.

Such people are fine for the bustling city life, but might not be suited to deal with the boredom of a journey.

“And then, little Ul…might be like a spice pack. A nice smell when you rub her, such that I want to keep her by my side. Very suited for a boring journey.”

Onlookers might have this impression because of her diminutive body, and that she was often covered in the nun habit, so Kusla snorted.

Truly, Fenesis did have a unique scent to her, and it might make sense to keep her by his side. Occasionally, it would be nice to tease her, to irritate her, to see her pout, or to see her foolish self whenever she lost to the demon of sleep. However, Kusla snorted not because Weyland was being on point. He just did not understand why this was mentioned so suddenly.

Even if it was to tease Kusla, he felt it was a lost case. Furthermore, Weyland could never have done anything to Fenesis.

Whenever Fenesis wanted to approach Kusla enthusiastically, the latter’s reluctance was obvious, but no matter the sacrifices or means required, he would choose Fenesis, and Weyland should know them well.

After all, the one nudging Kusla forth, and even sending an uppercut to the chin was none other than Weyland.

And thus, Kusla was hopelessly confused.

“…What are you planning?”

He was worried, and immediately retorted back.

“Nfufufu~~”

Weyland responded with a vague smile, ignoring Kusla’s stare like a breeze, stretched his back well, and stood from the chair.

“Speaking of which, Irine sure is slow~.”

Weyland turned his neck side to side, cracking it. For certain reasons, they were cooped in the room, unable to leave the inn, so it seemed he had no way to vent hs excess strength. This was probably the reason for their random thoughts, but Kusla was sighing for other reasons.

“Eh? You aren’t looking forward to it, Kusla~?”

“Looking forward to what?”

Kusla looked unbemused, and Weyland seemed to be thinking.

“A different you from usual~?”

“Are you an idiot?”

Despite the insult, Weyland continued to smile gleefully.

Irine was tasked to receive certain items. Kusla, Weyland and Fenesis were unable to leave, and thus, she had to do so.

Why they could not leave was because if they did, there would be chaos outside.

Back in Nilberk, after a series of events, Kusla and Weyland were deemed as great alchemists capable of delivering real miracles. After the many miracles, the official notice was that they had departed Southbound by boat. Fenesis herself had become a martyr, a person of the deal, and all the more she should not be outside moving. Irine, deemed an unbelievably amazing blacksmith, was the only one allowed to walk openly.

What Irine was asked to do simply to gather the necessities for their journey.

And the necessities were not food.

“Hm? Seems like she’s back~?”

Weyland pricked his ears, hearing the footsteps, and left the room. Kusla watched him leave, and sighed again. Though they had begun their journey, the alchemists were catching too much attention, and would be a hindrance. In that case, they had to fool in the manner alchemists would do, by gold plating.

In other words, they had to disguise.

“I’m back. Come on, you jerks, try them on!”

Irine’s voice echoed together with a thud.

Kusla stood up unwilling, and went to the next room, finding a pile of clothes before Irine.

“Will you inhumane alchemists be suited for these instead?”

Irine looked strangely enthusiastic, and Kusla snorted.

“Aren’t these blacksmith clothes? What about suitable?”

“Aren’t these fine?”

Irine asked with some major intent, and Kusla merely shrugged.

“This is yours. This is Weyland’s.”

“Looks like I’ll enjoy this~~!”

Weyland, who always enjoyed himself, was looking extremely excited, like a child receiving presents. Fenesis was probably woken by the commotion as she rubbed her eyes, exiting the inner room.

During the commotion a week ago, she cut the unique white hair of hers. She resembled an androgynous child, and could be mistaken for either boy or girl.

“Ah, this is yours, little Ul.”

Irine was enjoying herself all the more, reaching her arms out as she handed a packet of clothes. The sleepy Fenesis was confused for a moment, and looked a little annoyed.

“Don’t worry. This will suit you!”

Irine affirmed with a beaming face, but Fenesis looked skeptical.

It was probably because she recalled that soon after she entered the workshop they were at, she was made to dress like a town girl.

Her hair was overly white, and prettier than ordinary folk, which made her strangely different, like a princess from elsewhere made to look destitute.

Her unhappiness probably stemmed from that incident. At the very least, it was one of the main factors

The clothes Fenesis received was suggested by Irine, and highly supported by Weyland. Kusla would reserve his comments for the time being, not because he would find them unsuitable.

But that he had a feeling that it would really suit her, to the point of vexation.

“Righto, get changing! It’s busy out there in town. The tailors aren’t free either! If it doesn’t fit, I got to change them to change!”

Irine clapped. She probably did the same gesture to prompt the other blacksmiths in the workshops.

Weyland happily stripped himself off on the spot, and was glared at furiously by Irine.

Fenesis looked a little hapless, before she cuddled the clothes and returned to her nap room.

Good grief, so Kusla removed his clothes, picking up the plain clothes befitting of a blacksmith.

 

Weyland buckled his belt, and Irine sighed disinterestedly.

“It really does suit Weyland.”

“This is what I hear no matter what I wear.”

“Seems that way. But how about you comb your beard and hair? You look like a bad natured blacksmith?”

The duo bickered. Truly, they would not seem out of place even if they were in a town workshop.

“Well, we’re supposed to be blacksmiths trying to find places to live at, right? I can act as a capable one who can’t get along with the others in the city, or that kind of feeling, no~~”

Weyland said as he stroked his untrimmed beard.

“Ah–un. This is the impression you gave me. We do have such people in town back then..”

Back in Gulbetty, Irine was the leader of the town guild, in her deceased husband’s stead, so she probably knew about such people. Her face seemed a little rigid, probably because Weyland was playing this role too well, that it reminded her of her frustrations back then.

“Now, the problem is this one here~.”

Both of them looked towards Kusla. The latter would remain unfazed even when standing before a jury who would sentence him to death the next moment, and he reeled his neck back to intimidate.

He had a feeling what criticism he would face.

“Shockingly, your clothes don’t suit you at all.”

Irine sounded a little sympathetic as she giggled.

“What’s wrong here~?”

Even Weyland stopped with his joking attitude as he pondered for real. This left Kusla all the more infuriated. If Weyland was doing this purposely, Kusla would say he was doing a good job.

“Looks like a conman trying to disguise himself.”

“Either that, or the fool of a great merchant forced to be an apprentice in a workshop, forced to change himself~.”

“Ahahaha, I get what you mean!”

Kusla was beyond infuriated, his face completely expressionless.

“Hmm…but it is really strange. Ah, yes, maybe it’s that?”

“That? Whatcha mean~?”

“The thing wrapped around your head, Weyland.”

Irine pointed her finger at the towel wrapped around Weyland’s head. Typically, the latter would only do so in the workshop, but he wore it because he had to act like a blacksmith.

“If this is on him, will be look more like a blacksmith now?”

“…How will you look now~?”

Weyland removed the towel from his hand, giving an intriguing smirk as he looked at Kusla.

He looked as though he knew the answer, but he tossed the towel over.

“Wear it!”

He would look foolish trying to resist at this point.

So Kusla obediently put on the towel, and the duo immediately snickered in unison.

“Like a thief in disguise sneaking into a workshop.”

“Don’t get angry now, Kusla~.”

Even if the half-smiling Weyland had not said so, Kusla never had any intention to look ugly.

“So, what’s wrong? I don’t really want to praise the guy, but he’s decent, appearance wise”

“Is Kusla not looking crude enough~?”

Irine looked towards Weyland, and looked as though she had realized something

“How about he leave a beard or something?”

“A beard, on Kusla~?”

Weyland suddenly blurted, sounding mystified, and he shrugged.

“That will just make him look much weirder~.”

“Then what are we supposed to do? Can’t be getting him to dress up like he’s obviously an alchemist, right”

“Yeah…but who could have expected of him not to look good in be so unsuited to wear anything else other than an alchemist’s?”

They were basically lamenting about the matter, so Kusla sighed and retorted,

“I don’t care if I have to look like a stupid son..”

Weyland and Irine exchanged looks, as though the flat-out agreement was unexpected to them.

“You don’t have to be so angry~.”

“Y-yeah. It’s just that your impression as an alchemist is too strong…right?”

Both of them consoled him in unison, indicating that the attire really was unbefitting of him. Beneath the stoic look, Kusla was a little hurt.

“Who’s angry here? Look, achieving my objectives is good enough. Who cares about whether the clothing suits me.”

Actually, these were his real thoughts. He was not forcing anything.

He removed the towel from his head, and returned to Weyland, just moving his body a little.

“The size seems fine.”

“Hm? Ah, y-yes? Thank goodness...”

Irine might have been reflecting on her actions, that she might have gone overboard with her words.

“Anyway, the counterattack went really well, right? There’s lots of people on the run hiding in this city. Most would just bring a set of clothing, so the tailors were really busy.”

The massive army, tens of thousands, were crushed by the Cladius Knights, with the aid of the dragon flamethrowers and the fake miracle performed by Kusla’s gang. The Knights gathered at Nilberk gathered strength, siphoning the surrounding main roads and towns. As to be expected of that power.

Such news spread all corners, and people started to think that the Knights were still invincible, and gathered in droves. Within this quiet room, one could hear the happenings in the town, and the only time it was really quiet outside was the short period before dawn,

People were entering and leaving the city all day long.

“I did work hard to squeeze through that packed workshop and get these clothes. It’ll take a while to tailor these clothes. Good thing the size matches. You fine with that, Weyland?”

“No problems.”

Hearing the leisurely response, Irine nodded in satisfaction.

“Now little Ul is the only one left. How long will she take to change?”

“Maybe she doesn’t dare to leave the room~?”

“…”

Irine turned towards Weyland, and nodded, probably thinking this was a possibility.

She went to the next room, knocked lightly on the door, and opened it a little.

If Irine had a tail, it would have jolted up immediately.

“Amazing! This really suits you! Oh it really does!”

Irine entered the room excitedly.

“Looky look, it’s fine! Great! Never expected it to suit you so well!”

Irine’s back was the only thing seen through the gap, but one could sense a skirmish happening in the room.

Irine was tugging hard at Fenesis’ hand, trying to pull the latter out, who remained unwilling to leave the room.

Once they saw the girls at the door, both Kusla and Weyland were at a loss for words.

When they had Fenesis dress like a town girl, she was really unsuitable.

However, there was this option.

“Don’t you think it really suits her!?”

Irine sounded as though she was hailing her own contributions, and Fenesis next to her was flushed red, her head lowered unhappily. Perhaps she was just feeling awkward about the whole thing, rather than just whether it suited her. For her, a pious believer, she was a stickler for rules and regulations.

She looked uneasy, figidity, as though she was doing something completely immoral.

She was dressed in a boy’s clothing.

“A cute girl is cute even when wearing male clothing…~”

On the other side, Irine, not minding the details, was completely ecstatic, going on a spiel,

“But a cute one entering a workshop will cause quite a commotion. The big sisters in town won’t let such a cute one by.”

“It’s troublesome if they want to teach her. if they’re too harsh, it’ll be like they’re bullying her. Too kind, they’ll be seen as biased.”

“The hair colors doesn’t really matter after the hair’s been cut.”

That certainly was the case.

However, Kusla shared no thoughts as usual. Once Fenesis boldly cut her hair, he released she had an androgynous vibe to her. She was relatively undeveloped to begin with, at an age which it was unknown if she was girl or boy.

But once she wore a boy’s clothing, the sweet scent whenever she wore a nun’s clothes had vanished, replaced with a refreshing, youthful mood.

Appearances are really amazing. For the first time in his life, Kusla understood the feelings of those who were conned by plated gold, and those who encountered fool’s gold.

“But what about the ears?”

Irine asked. Fenesis was someone with a deformity, dubbed a cursed bloodline.

However, the deformity were simply the inhuman ears on her head, resembling a cat, somewhat cute. At this point, they were sticking to her head due to her bashfulness. However, eye-catching things are eye-catching.

“A cap, maybe…but blacksmiths won’t have such things. The merchant errand boys might wear them from time to time…”

Irine tilted her head slightly to think, and Weyland just pulled a towel from her waist, before walking to Fenesis.

He knelt down, and wrapped it around Fenesis’ head.

“This is a good time to do this~.”

“…”

Irine’s mouth was wide open, looking impressed.

Before their eyes was a young, healthy apprenticeship slender like a girl, worried about the future work in the workshop, but still mustering all enthusiasm to work hard.

“…Yo-you can call me big sister, you know?”

Irine’s eyes suddenly became strange, and her words were such that it was unknown whether she was joking.

Fenesis remained perturbed, but Kusla sensed her glancing at him from time to time. Her face clearly showed that she wanted to know what he felt.

Nevertheless, he could not help but look aside.

And to describe it, his face looked extremely bitter.

“Hm~? What’s the matter, Kusla?”

Witnessing this, Weyland asked pretentiously

“What’s with that face? Doesn’t it suit little Ul?”

Irine’s hands were on Fenesis’ shoulders, as though declaring the latter to be hers. Kusla glanced sidelong to the uneasy Fenesis, and their eyes met, before they looked away.

“…It’s just a disguise. The objectives are all that matter. Doesn’t matter whether we look good or not.”

He said awkwardly.

Irine was miffed to hear that, and Fenesis looked devastated.

A little ‘looks good’ might have solved this, but he could not, for these words would imply so much more, and he hated that feeling.

Also, there was another reason why he did not want to praise her openly.

And he did not want anyone to realize.

The moment he had this thought.

“Don’t worry, little Ul. That guy’s a fool who arms himself with looks and stubbornness. You know that, right~?”

Weyland might have been overboard, but Kusla was unable to be angry, for the words were half correct.

Weyland might have realized this as he slowly approached Fenesis’ face, as though whispering to her,

“Kusla’s jealous~.”

“Eh?”

Fenesis stared blankly at Weyland. She might not have expected to hear those words. Irine too stood by the side, dumbfounded.

Kusla himself was the only one thinking how to murder Weyland on the spot.

“Because little Ul’s attire matches mine~.”

“Eh?”

Fenesis looked at Weyland and Irine from the side, comparing them.

The trio then looked towards Kusla, who actually reached for the dagger on his waist.

It was humiliation.

Weyland’s words really hit the mark.

“…Why do I feel that your opinion added so much more?”

Irine stared intently at Kusla, saying this.

Of course, it was Fenesis who paid more attention to Kusla

Her face was stiff, as though restraining the delight that was about to explode.

Weyland snickered, shrugged, and said,

“If things aren’t as I say, how about you explain~?”

Any drowning person would grab even a grass.

He had no choice but to say.

“…Never thought of that before.”

Weyland gave the look of a hunter who saw his prey take the bait.

“I think this is the best way to split us up~.”

Weyland tugged Fenesis away from Irine, grabbing the shoulder, taking a step back,

“Little Ul and I have matching clothes. We can act as a senior disciple unable to accept how rotten the city has become, and a cute junior disciple admiring the senior~.”

He beamed at her, and her eyes dulled for a moment. However, she was no longer the young lady to be teased. She quickly calmed down, and after some thought, decided to remain by Weyland’s side obediently.

Kusla understood the reason.

The moment Weyland grabbed Fenesis’ shoulder, Kusla panicked for a moment, and instinctively looked at Fenesis. Naturally, the latter looked delighted to see him panic.

“What about me?”

Weyland gave Irine a hearty smile.

“Well, I’ve been thinking about your role for quite a while, Irine. I can’t think of a reason why a highly skilled female blacksmith, perfect in what she does, will look for a new place to settle.”

“…Y-you’re right.”

Irine’s answer was vague, as expected of a free-spirited blacksmith who fled a town.

Irine might have experienced lots of frustrating things, but even then, she worked hard to get everything running smoothly. The world revolved through such endurance. It was not normal to cross a wall and relocate, so they had to come up with an extraordinary reason for her.

So, what should they do?

“This is where Kusla comes in~.”

“Huh?”

Irine turned towards Kusla, and she was looking completely dumbfounded.

Fenesis too directed her skeptical, round eyes towards Kusla.

“I got this idea after seeing his dress up. It’s a reason anyone can easily believe~.”

Weyland gave a truly mischievous smirk, saying,

“Look, Kusla’s the foolish son who did bad things in the merchant guild and got kicked out, so now he’s trying to start over as a blacksmith, right~?”

“…What has that got to do with me?”

“The same old logic that hasn’t changed. Kusla is the arrogant fool who spent his money, but he’s working hard in his own way. The maiden-like girl who can’t let him be is you~.”

“Haa?”

Irine let out a shriek, first looking at Kusla, and then at Weyland.

“Wh-what do you mean? Me with this guy?”

“Nfufufu~.”

Weyland chortled, and did not answer, basically implying there was no need to.

Irine looked towards Kusla again, her face completely stiff.

However, Weyland’s explanation clearly made sense. In the towns they would visit, if there were anyone who would doubt their relationship and ask, they would have something to corroborate with.

The certain reasons why people would choose to leave the town was either because it was a painful experience, or that it was irrational, and the four of them were the latter wandered around between towns for the latter.

Weyland could not get along with the guild, Fenesis remained oblivious to the world, Irine was dumbstruck by love, and Kusla was a common fool amongst the rich.

No matter which town they were in, people would think they were hopeless, rather than doubt them. They might never be lashed out at.

“So, two pairs, all four of us, somehow met at a certain town, and became travelling buddies. I think any other explanation won’t be able to explain how we got together so easily~.”

Weyland puffed his chest confidently. It seemed it had been thinking about this while feeling bored.

However, Kusla could not reject this plan just because he hated it.

Fenesis, whose shoulder was cupped by Kusla, giggled, and Irine too looked exhausted. Everyone knew this explanation was just to make their disguise, not just a game. If Kusla was to take this for real, it would it would be the most foolish move.

“But I got a request.”

“Hm?”

Irine’s eyes swept towards Kusla, Weyland, and then Fenesis, telling them,

“Change it such that we left town because we’re lovestruck, that we’re really regretting it now, right? In that case, I believe I can play that role well.”

Weyland looked up towards the ceiling, chortling quietly.

Irine looked over at Kusla with disgust. She probably did that partially because she was worried about Fenesis’ feelings, and the rest being that she really felt this way.

Kusla said nothing, and accepted it all.

As long as he was headed to his Magdala, all else was trivial, or so he desperately tried to convince himself.

While they were trying to finetune their clothes and stories, Alzen sent his messenger. He was the commander of a company under the Cladius Knights, which hired Kusla and the others. They were supposedly in charge of maintaining order and repopulation in the pagan towns the Knights had conquered, and it was supposedly a relatively docile side, but at this point, it seemed that was not the case.

Kusla’s gang was seated on a carriage, hidden from the crowd, smuggled down the alleys to the back door of the Knights headquarters.

They entered the office, and heard a grumble,

“Thanks to the lot of you, I’m really busy!”

The gloomy face was lacking expression, probably because he was sleep deprived. Even while grumbling furiously at Kusla and the others, the quill pen in his hands continued to sign the parchments before him.

“You appear to be really busy now.”

Kusla relied, and Alzen’s shoulders shook, as though he choked on something. His expression remained unchanged, inscrutable, but it seemed he was grimacing.

“Before we knew it, Archduke Kratal became the main commander of this counterattack. It’s because of your performance that our Azami’s Crest reputation has been rising.”

“If I may ask, what is this point here? I did once hear that as long as we can establish ourselves as the core of this war, we can go anywhere in this world, no?”

As long as this battle was won, the Claudius Knights could break establish the yoke on Latria, or so Alzen declared. But at this point, he was not looking delighted in the slightest.

Kusla’s words left this expressionless him to stop, and mutter,

“All the duties ended up on me…”

Alzen was the de facto commander with authority, and his title was simply that of a heralding commander. The responsibility was originally for him to arrive before Archduke Kratal, the grand noble being the symbol of the forces, to paste posters at wherever he would arrive. At this point, Alzen became the man responsible for everything.

It was unlike him to recline on his throne, to observe and boast arrogantly that he was the center of it all, and leave everything else to his subordinates.

The red bearded Archduke Kratal seemed to be the type who would say that crows and geese were the same, and would not sweat the details too much. In that case, Alzen’s workload truly was incredible. Even Kusla himself was showing a rare sign of sympathy.

“My sincerest apologies for being of no help.”

However, such words could be misconstrued as sarcasm. Weyland burst out laughing, and Alzen glared at Kusla.

“Hmph…whatever. Once I weather this storm, I shall think of this as the pride of my life.”

Whenever people accomplish anything, there had to be a reason.

Alzen was undoubtedly an officer.

“Anyway, preparations to send you to the next town is in order. What about you?”

Kusla stood upright, and so did Weyland, Irine and Fenesis.

“As you can see, we’re ready too.”

“Disguising yourselves as blacksmiths…I see. Hmph.”

Alzen’s eyes scanned past Kusla’s gang, and back at Kusla, snorting,

“We thought of what to say if people suspect us, don’t worry~.”

Hearing Weyland’s assurance, Alzen did not respond with a nod or anything.

“If you say so. Just going to brief about what I talked about.”

Alzen took out a few documents from the many of them, blinking as he sought the words.

“It doesn’t matter whether you’re following the footsteps of the heretical inquisitor Korad Abria, but there are several areas our Knights can’t reach. The closest town to our dominion is called Yazon.”

Then, he looked towards them. Heard of that? Or so Alzen was implying. Kusla merely shrugged.

“Hmph. Yazon is really part of Latria’s pagan lands, but there was an Orthodox Church in the past. It’s said to be a town of many faiths.”

“Is it because the leader of that land is a flexible, two mouthed person?”

“No. According to the spy reports, it’s just flexible. In other words, the merchants have power there.”

“I see.”

Just as alchemists thought of faith as no more than dung, the merchants were an organization which allowed anything as long as they could make money.

“Just like Nilberk, it’s on the border between the North and the South, and prospers trying trading. It’s not uncommon for a border town, and even if you slip in, you probably won’t attract too much attention.”

Alzen put his documents down, and rubbed his eyes. Whenever he did so, he would resemble his age, a man entering his old age.

“But don’t ever let your identities as alchemists be realized.”

He said while rubbing his eyes.

At that moment, he reverted back to being the commander with wise eyes, one capable of reading the changes of the world even with his eyes closed.

“Opinions about you have been spreading wilder than you can imagine. I really have the thought of locking you into the warehouse for added security.”

“Haha.”

Weyland chortled, and Alzen opened his eyes.

“This is not a joke.”

And Weyland, basically a nobody to Alzen, erased his smile.

“Your existence will affect the morale of the Knights. The mood is such that as long as you’re around, any crisis can be resolved. We said that you went South, not just as a rumor. It’s to let the lot of them think that the South bases are sturdy enough. If they think that there is always a threat on their backs, they won’t be able to attack confidently.”

The nature of alchemists, like Alzen, is that nothing they do is pointless.

“Anything bad that happens to you will represent massive losses of fortune on our side. The fortunes called prestige and faith might be difficult to rebuild no matter what. It’s impossible to estimate them by money.

Nobody would expect them to be in such an important position.

But in such times of hardship, rumors often spread as easily as the plague.

There were benefits, and also downsides.

They had personally experienced reactions when those who could perform miracles failed to meet everyone’s expectations

“Leading your way shall be highly capable spies. They are all disguised as merchants, so you should be merchants. They are all trusted aides of mine, and won’t reveal the secret of that young lady, or your identities.”

Fenesis was of a cursed bloodline, and that assurance left them relieved.

“However, I’m worried if you’re able to conceal your identities completely.”

Alzen gave a suspicious look at the gang.

At that moment, Kusla raised his chin, refuting,

“We’re alchemists. We’re the best at defending ourselves.”

In fact, there were many whose lives were threatened.

Alchemists lived alone under such circumstances.

“But that was back when you’re living alone, no?”

Such words delivered a straight punch right in his chest.

“Assuming that there is a miniscule chance of people making mistakes, if there are two of such people working together, the failures become more frequent. What about four? From time to time, there will be squabbles, confusion.”

Kusla was speechless.

Alzen, and even Weyland, Irine and Fenesis were staring at him, causing him to feel hot all over.

Such words seemed to show that the squabble and confusion between them was seen through.

“This is also why spies act independently. Even when acting together, they won’t say anything about each other’s job. My position now is that I have to manage thousands in the army trying to boast their abilities. Mind understanding my hardships here?

In metallurgy and refining work, the moment the quantity increases, the theories used before often never worked.

Alzen sighed hard, and cleared his throat.

“I want all of you to return, nobody left behind. If any of you is gone, we’ll have lost an entire battalion of Knights.”

Even Fenesis, who should have assumed dead, could bring an effect beyond what the others could do, depending on how she was used. One could understand by imagining if the Maiden was revived through some great miracle, how overjoyed the Knights would be.

It would be no joke.

“Despite that, I permitted your departure, because my guess is that it shall bring much more benefits.”

At this point, Alzen finally showed a smile.”

“Go get back the ancient technology that can defeat the dragons. We shall become rulers of the world then.”

Such seemed to be words from a child who had read an epic.

However, it was not a brat ignorant of the world saying this, but the crucial figure in the counterattack, centered on the base called Nilberk.

Any man not riveted by such developments is not a man.

The innocent exhilaration since childhood was awakening in his heart.

“But,”

Kusla stifled a laugh as he said,

“I suppose the administrative matters of the world will be busier than it is now.”

Alzen was momentarily stunned.

Then, his silhouette changed completely, as though the unchanging facial muscles from before were moving.

“Naturally, I shall require your help.”

Alzen was a reliable superior.

“Hurry on. I shall await good news.”

“Understood.”

Kusla and the others bowed, and left the office.

 

When they escaped from Kazan, they were basically wearing their belongings, and thus they were done packing. At the most, they would simply find Korad Abria’s words left in this town. Weyland and Fenesis were fine, but Irine alone had some trouble. The blacksmiths who worked with her had wanted to gift her the finest tools, and it took her a long while to reject them. Any wandering blacksmith carrying expensive tools around would catch too much attention.

Despite that, when Alzen’s spies, disguised as merchants, came to greet them, they were all prepared.

“Now then, we shall embark on a grand journey that will be known to future generations.”

“Assuming that we do find something amazing, no?”

“Heard we’re amazing people now. Might really leave our names in the annals~.”

“Again with the sleep talk. The annals only record the meetings and the leaders, right? How can we…”

Though Irine was saying so, her eyes were brimming with excitement of anticipation. Most common folk could not dare to dream of being recorded in a section of history.

However, Kusla was disinterested in that. There was something more important for him.

The moment he thought so, the young lady next to him said,

“If we are recorded in history, you shall be a great alchemist hiding his identity, no?”

Fenesis looked really excited.

“It does feel exciting.”

She might have thought of this adventurous journey as one which she had to hide her identity as a princess.

Kusla wanted to make a few verbal jabs, but Fenesis kept beaming, saying,

“All this while, I have wandered while hiding my identity. But…this is the first time I feel happy about it.”

As one of the cursed bloodline, she had lived a gritty life of escape. She had to disguise herself, to deny her identity as one despised by people, all for the sake of ensuring her heart could continue to beat, or for the sake of the comrades who were slaughtered on their way.

This disguise however meant different. It was the first time in Fenesis’ life that she enjoyed being able to disguise due to some folly. Anyone born in the towns would probably have experienced a moment of fun disguising themselves.

The moment Kusla recovered, he found his hand nearly touching her face.

However, he did not want to admit that he was feeling riveted by her appearance, and thus, the initial urge to stroke her face became a finger flick.

“Stop grinning away. Who knows what kinds of traps are laid out for us.”

“I-I am not grinning away…eh? A-are there traps?”

She puffed her cheeks angrily to show her displeasure, only to immediately ask in shock.

What Kusla said was not necessarily baseless self-defense.

“Think about Kazan. Those with your bloodline were chained and shackled, buried into the walls.”

They were most likely the people who brought the flamethrower skill into Kazan.

It was said Fenesis came from the far East, and those people probably arrived a long time ago, migrants who brought such technology.

However, looking at the murals on the walls and what happened thereafter, one could clearly understand that the migration did not go well. Initially, the Ancients forced people to succumb through overwhelming technology, or worked together with people to develop the towns, but there was a break in this relationship at a certain point.

Most likely, they showed too many miracles.

Once the people saw how such miracles were solved, they would look forward to the next day, and the day after.

It was one thing if their expectations were met, but it was not that simple.

Nobody could become God.

And the non-divine beings with this God-like power were simply deemed as the embodiments of the Devil.

Such was the curse in Fenesis’ bloodline.

“We’re going to Yazon. Who knows whether there’ll be an unfortunate past there.”

Surely it was not a good feeling to know that her own tribe ended with unfortunate fates, even if they were not directly blood related. However, there were such tragic stories all over the world. Thus, they had to grit their teeth, and never hope for happiness to come. The world is filled with misfortune.

However, Fenesis’ smile did not fade away.

“It is fine. If the curse of our tribe is due to those skills…”

SHe continued to look up at Kusla, smiling,

“I believe you can undo that curse for me. Certainly it will not become a bad thing just because of that.”

She said such things to the suspicious alchemists. If it was much earlier, Kusla would have thought of it as the words of an innocent fool who remained oblivious to the world, taking everything for real.

But Fenesis was no longer a simple little fool.

“Just don’t hope too much.”

Kusla coldly noted, and Fenesis beamed brighter than before.

“Yes. I will be sure not to hope too much.”

It seemed she did learn her lesson, and while it was comforting, it was a little humorless of her.

“Then make sure you can do it.”

“I will. And I can.”

She looked defiant, serious, but it seemed she was somewhat putting on a facade.

People do really change greatly because of little things.

That change was so great, Kusla felt he was left behind.

“Right, you lot haven’t forgotten anything, right?”

Irine called out, Kusla and Fenesis looked towards her.

“We’re off!”

They were headed on a new journey.

At that moment, Kusla called for Fenesis.

“What is it?”

She realized a tad later, and turned around to him in shock.

But that little delay resulted in Kusla swallowing his words back in.

“…Nothing.”

Upon this reply, Fenesis left with a skeptical look.

Your attire looks good. But he was never able to say those words.

It was not simply a case of some know-it-all talking down to others. Kusla was slowly realizing why he was unsuited for a blacksmith’s clothing. As Alzen had said, he had always worked alone, that thus was the reason why he did not look sufficiently crude.

In other words, he was still clinging onto a template, one called an ‘uppity’ alchemist.

The armor remained too tight on him, unable to afford enough space for him to embrace a white cat in his clutches. The cat was trying to squeeze into his armor, and he did not know how respond.

The problem was, it was not easy to remove this armor.

Kusla watched the back silhouette of Fenesis leave, and sighed.

 

There were three carriages, five mercenaries, three merchants, and Kusla’s gang of four.

The merchants were all spies, and the mercenaries were all extremely skilled warriors, preferring professionalism and oaths to gold.

The people were waiting to pass through the walls, and it was exceptionally busy, both going in and out.

The Knights centered their counterattack at Nilberk, and remaining soldiers in ambush or late to retreat moved from their towns and villages to this city. The soldiers ready to counter were storming out of the city.

Also, the Southern forces, with their strength preserved, were sending in reinforcements. The blacksmiths and merchants eyes lit up seeing these forces, and followed suit. Whenever there was war, and daily trading was impossible, it was the opportunity for new merchants to strike. New jobs for the blacksmiths would include repairing the damaged city attractions, or weapons crafting due to special demands.

This commotion happened right when the majority assumed the war was ending. The chances of new immigrants were running slim, and thus there were more crowds. Looking at the flow, it seemed the ports were bustling beyond imagination, with goods moving in and out.

Just squeezing their way to the outside was arduous enough.

“Ah…! It’s tiring…!”

Irine raised her arms, facing up as she laid on the stacks of wooden crates. The skies were clear, and there was no wind. They felt released from the pressure within the walls of the bustling city, and it was the perfect moment to nap.

Despite that, Kusla just had a thought that it was so Irine to just lie by the side without restraint, facing the sun shining from above, looking well and enjoying herself.

“I worked for about ten years. I feel like I won’t have to work for another ten…”

She muttered, her face showing the satisfied look of one enjoying her nap on a rest day.

Back in Nilberk, she led the production of the dragons, and toiled while ignoring food and sleep.

It should be forgivable for her to crave the luxury of sleep on this journey.

“Nnn~ but…if I take a nap…I’ll get a bad habit…”

She muttered as she laid out to the side, muttering.

It was admirable of her to try resisting the sleep demon, but the heavy work at Nilberk finally caused Irine to succumb. She stretched her back out, as though surrendering to the warm sun of spring. As she reached her fingers to wipe the tears dripping from her eyes, she met Kusla in the eyes.

“Why’re you scowling away on such a wonderful day?”

“…It’s how I am.”

Kusla tersely responded, looking down at the precious book he took from Nilberk.

It was the annals he saw in the Nilberk Church. It contained the words of Abria. The one he read that the Church was scattered into pieces, so he had the merchant guild provide another.

The annals contained the major incidents since the city’s foundings, and in the past, he would never read this. If he looked into it, he might find some information on the Ancients.

“Always lying.”

Irine leaned back once again, her hands cupped behind her head.

It was not the posture a fine lady should have, but it was a gesture befitting Irine.

“You’re throwing a tantrum because Ul isn’t around, right?”

Kusla knew she would say that, so he just dismissed those words as nothing, paying no heed to them.

“Well, you’re right. Guess you prefer to stay by her side than a gruff girl.”

Irine narrowed her eyes. It seemed she was self-aware, and was strangely bothered by it.

“Hmph. Well, you’re just good at keeping your lips sealed.”

“Huh?”

“Can’t even say, that looks good on you.”

“Wha-?”

He blurted out without thinking, and hurriedly covered his mouth.

At this moment, it was obvious who was the fool.

“Well, Weyland’s not a kind man, but he’s a lot better in this regard. I guess Ul’s really happy to be given so much praise~.”

Hearing Irine’s words, Kusla could not help but look towards the carriage leading rhe pack. Though it was impossible to see them fully, he could vaguely see Weyland and Fenesis, chatting away happily. He saw the towels wrapped over their heads, which further sparked such thoughts. It was as though they were disciples on really good terms.

“Little Ul might be moved by those a little weird, but kind and capable of talking, rather than those who always prank her and not say the important things. She is an honest child after all.”

Irine, closing her eyes and basking in the sun, looked so relaxed.

No matter how Kusla glared at her, it was pointless under the warm sun.

And no matter how he tried to refute, it would merely be dismissed as a childish act.

Despite knowing that, he spoke up, because he had a bad feeling, that maybe,

“That is…”

“Possible.”

Irine never let him finish.

“Well, it’s common…anyone will be lovestruck by someone else if ignored.”

Irine’s eyes towards him showed no mockery.

Instead, they were sharp, angry.

“You think she’ll know if you don’t say? How arrogant can you be?”

Irine was always the honest one, outspoken to a fault, but even that was too cruel of her. Kusla was taken aback, wary, and Irine turned her head aside, seemingly pouting.

“But you’ll call it something like trust, right? Just like that guy. Seriously, what’s with that?”

At this point, they were finally on the same page. Irine was not blaming Kusla, but the deceased person in her memories.

“You probably think it’s shameful to say that. Even though you’re just awkward, lacking guts.”

Hearing that caused Kusla to feel he was slobbered by a huge hammer used for smelting. He gave Irine a bitter grimace.

In contrast, Irine did not look at Kusla any further. The latter knew it was pointless to continue, so he clammed up. All that was left was the rolling sound of the carriage wheels.

Irine was the first to break the silence.

“When you’re so hesitant, people might disappear. It can be her, it can be you.”

Her eyes were no longer showing rage or impatience.

Just loneliness.

Is that right, so asked Irine’s eyes as she looked up at him.

The world remained instable, treacherous and unpredictable, never one to pay any additional heed to them.

Their stable lives were suddenly trampled upon. Such was daily life.

“Even since I started moving along with you lot, we’ve been involved in dangerous things. Right, now, we’re going to a place we don’t know what’ll happen. It’s frustrating just looking on the side. Didn’t I tell you my own failures?”

After that, there was some condescendence in her eyes.

Seeing that, Kusla felt a little relieved. He had self-awareness of the parts Irine pointed out, and did think so. Also, looking at how furious Irine was, it probably was not about her scheming something with Weyland again.

“Even metals can break when they bend suddenly.”

Despite that, he tried to explain himself. Irine looked increasing unhappy as she looked towards Kusla, saying,

“Only those who want to work hard and snap have the right to say that. You’re always trying to salvage the situation when it’s beyond the point of redemption, and always with others helping.”

“…”

There was no way he could beat Irine in such a debate.

Kusla owed Irine a huge favor, and his embarrassing moments were probably seen by her.

However, there were times when he would think.

This would probably be the feeling of a busybody big sister.

“And it’s because you’re always like this that Weyland gets the chances to tease you. Normally, little Ul should be sitting on your knees now. She surely hopes so too.”

It was true that when Weyland suggested that they took separate carriages, Fenesis did look towards Kusla.

But the latter instinctively averted his eyes. If he had looked at her, it would make her think he had hopes, and he hated that feeling.

He too assumed he was thinking too much.

“Or do you want me sitting on your knees instead?”

Irine narrowed her eyes, saying such words without a tinge of femininity.

Kusla merely grimaced, and feebly answered,

“You’re heavy, right? My thighs will break.”

“E-enough with that!”

Such words unexpectedly agitated Irine, who lifted the wheat straws on the carriage, throwing them at Kusla. Kusla had no intention of enacting revenge, for it was pointless, he remove the wheat from his head, and sighed.

The problem was clear to see.”

“If only pride can be cut off and discarded easily…”

Kusla put his elbows by the edge of the carriage, putting his head on his hands.

“If you really wanted to, you could have done so.”

Irine stabbed at him with another jab, but he had no room to refute.

Silence fell upon them again, and this time, Kusla spoke,

“If it’s for anything else, I can cut and discard my pride, or anything. This is different though, it’s at a place I can’t reach.”

He could only assume, reluctantly. Whenever he stood before Fenesis, he would arm himself without thinking.

And having become somewhat desperate, he told Irine,

“Without you lot around, things might have gone smoother.”

“I won’t mind even if you and little Ul embrace before me.”

She was right. If it were Weyland and Irine doing so, Kusla would not mind. The one bothered about whom Fenesis was smiling to was none other than himself.

“…Even I’m starting to hate myself.”

“That’s my line. I don’t want to hear anyone else say such boorish lines.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“What else can it be. Ul’s right next to Weyland now because you, who won’t react or will just spite others, end up looking jumpy whenever that happens.”

There were people who were unmoved by things, and would even kill God in silence.

Such were alchemists, the self-image he had believed in, yet correcting in such a dire state.

But why would Irine say such things to him? Kusla was unable to guess her intent. She scowled unhappily, and sighed.

“Despite that…I’m angry when I look at you because I’m jealous.”

This time, Kusla too was befuddled.

“…Huh?”

“Ahhh, I want to fall in love too.”

Irine loudly proclaimed, her legs flailing up and down.

So that’s how it is…so Kusla realized in exclamation. It was like her wanting a taste of something delicious those around her were eating.

Stumped, Kusla noted,

“There’s still Weyland.”

“That has to be a joke. He’s a nice one, but I hate the frivolous ones.”

Hearing the calm reply, the uppity alchemist unwittingly nodded.

“You’re an alchemist, right? Can’t you take my fortune and figure out where my fated person is?”

Kusla didn’t know if she was serious, but he had to correct her misunderstanding.

“Don’t put us alchemists with those diviners.”

“You’re useless.”

“…Anyway, this isn’t something you should read your fortune on. If you meet him, can’t you use a love potion?”

“Eh?”

Irine immediately sat upright.

“Y-you can make sure a thing?”

“What? You have someone in mind?”

Kusla was immediately surprised, and inadvertently asked. Back in Nilberk, Irine spent entire days in the workshops, so weary that she stumbled back without noticing a glove had fallen off her hand, and fell asleep at the door.

In such a situation, it was unexpected of her to fall for someone. While feeling impressed, Irine shrugged with bemusement.

“Nope. I’m drinking it.”

“Huh?”

“Looking at you two reminds me of those feelings back then.”

Irine pouted like a child, and said bashfully.

“If I can get back those feelings drinking a love potion, I don’t mind falling in love with a frog. No, a frog’s better. There’ll be lots of trouble if I fall in love with a human.”

Was the work in Nilberk too much?

Kusla looked at her worriedly, and she brought her face close.

“Eh, more importantly, can you really make such a medicine? The rumors about alchemists aren’t all a lie, right?”

Though not to the extent of Fenesis, Irine’s view of alchemists was filled with such imaginations. However, an alchemist’s methods were not too different from a blacksmith.”

“Did you drug little Ul with that?”

So she was worried about that? Hearing that, Kusla was relieved.

Even though Irine was giving him a scathing look, he would not falter out of guilt regarding this.

“I guess I’ll do that then, since it might be easier for me to handle.”

If he could achieve any means by doing so, why would he hesitate?

It was because it was beyond expectations, that he was so flustered.

“Also, the medicine might be a little different from what you think. Rather than a love potion…I should say it’s more of an aphrodisiac?”

“A-Aphro?”

Even the boisterous, sometimes masculine her was left stammering, her cheeks reddened.

She did have a husband, but as he was in his advanced age, she might not have such experiences.

“It might be more like, one that can cause hallucinations, I guess. I never used it myself, but there were times when some reckless nobles requested me to make them.”

“…”

Irine clenched her fist, covering her mouth as she looked afar, her ears beetroot.

“Do you really want that?”

“Huh? What are you saying? I’m not such a lewd woman!”

Irine shrieked loudly, causing Kusla to be taken aback.

But once he understood that Irine misunderstood him, he was left somewhat bemused.

“The aphrodisiac, not the man thing.”

“Ugh!”

Irine grabbed anything she could throw at Kusla. Wheat stalks, garlic. Kusla either dodged them or parried them, waiting for her to calm down.

“Well, the ingredients are hard to obtain, and obviously, the means to brew it are pretty much based on some half-baked knowledge. There’s a lot of risk, and this is the reason why I haven’t used it. Those people researching on it might try…but such knowledge are what the nobles are really hands-off about. For them, this is more valuable than metallurgy skills.”

Sometimes, a new metallurgy technology would revive a mine to its glory, and thus, sometimes, massive fortunes were affected.

However, a love potion might end up affecting the central authority more directly.

The nobles would prefer to conquer their enemies through political marriages, and protect their lands, rather than attack their enemies with swords and spears.

“If we can obtain such knowledge and ingredients elsewhere, I can try brewing it.”

Kusla said, looking afar.

“If I drink it, can I do as I please now?”

That might show that love is blind. Perhaps he might not care about what others, or himself thought.

So Kusla muttered, and Irine, finally breathing normally, said,

“Just like a fool.”

Was this used to describe her panicking self, or Kusla?

Perhaps both. No matter the answer, Kusla nodded in agreement.

They spent two days to arrive at Yazon.

They crossed a river checkpoint and spent a night there. There were people crossing the checkpoint, and it was chaotic, for there was the rebellion incited by the Latrian Queen and the Knights’ counterattack.

The situation was probably the same as Nilberk’s.

Some took the opportunity to run away, and some took it as an opportunity to arrive. Most were merchants eyeing business opportunities, and blacksmiths hoping to gain a foothold somewhere here through this chaos.

In any case, to Kusla, it was another person’s problem. One should be reaching out seek what he want, without holding back. Such is the meaning of living on this world.

Despite that, he had no confidence that he could remain the same in the inn.

Between the table, Irine kicked him twice.

Fenesis, who was on better terms with Weyland, took the initiative to serve him on the plate. Of course, she served Kusla too, but the latter could not even say thanks when he received his plate.

At this point, he hardly expressed anything, and it became a habit for him. In this case, would it be world for him to say anything? Such an idea stopped him. Needless to say, when would be the right time to say that those clothes suit her? It was too late, to the point of despair.

Assuming that when smelting metals, he was able to decide whether to add coal or shells at the most opportune moment; yet because he kept dithering, time passed greatly to a point of no return. The quarter spent a night in the inn, and again took the carriage. Kusla could not hear the bemeaning words of Irine, and never expected himself to cave to the silent pressure. It was because of such unsightliness that when the walls of Yazon finally appeared, he could not sigh in relief.

People could quickly divert their attention, and Yazon was an outstanding choice. There was a long queue before the wall, slowing their progress. It was not because the checks were too stringent, but that there were too many moving in and out. The footsteps of the horses came to a step, and one could see a lot crowd of people preparing to leave the town, passing the carriages as they went South.

Mercenaries, mercenaries, messengers, merchants, farmers returning to their villagers, mercenaries, knights, merchants, merchants…Kusla filtered out these people. Yazon had become an important base for the Knights’ counterattack, and it might not be unreasonable to understand why there were relatively more combatants.

The carriages would occasionally take a few steps forth, and when they finally arrived at the gates, the guards were half comprised of the Knights, and half the town soldiers.

Of course, the Knights did not send help for a kind reason like a lack of manpower. The control of a town would affect the security. If any external parties were to encroach, even the unwelcomed people would be allowed in based on their intentions.

For example, right before Kusla’s eyes, the spy eyed the Knights, and showed them Alzen’s certifications. They were let through without a check. Despite that, there were some town guards around, and the Knights’ authority were a little dented. In any case, it was a strong-arm to show who was the ruler.

In any case, Kusla was a little sympathetic as to how the Yazon citizens were affected by the migrants.

As for why, it all started when the gang got off the carriages.

“Right. This is the first step of our record in history~!”

Weyland said as he got off the carriage, giving his hand to Fenesis.

Fenesis chuckled, putting her palm on Weyland’s.

“Hey, you fine with that?”

Irine nudged Kusla’s flank with an elbow.

“Weyland’s egging you on, and little Ul knows that.”

“…”

Irine seemed reliable when she was on Kusla’s said. However, he had no intention to stop Weyland. At this point, Weyland probably would not do anything to Fenesis.

“When smelting, nothing good happens when we panic.”

“But there’s a chance it’s too late.”

Despite Irine’s taunting eyes, Kusla merely shrugged.

“I can retry over and over again. This is the good thing about smelting.”

“Well, if only you can think of people as metals.”

“…”

Such words were really impactful from Irine, a blacksmith from head to toe.

People are people. Metals are metals. There was a limit to how much they could be compared. To take it for real would mean a tragic end.

“I know that.”

Kusla admitted, and added,

“In theory…”

Irine giggled with some bemusement. At this moment,

Kusla grabbed her shoulder, and pulled her close.

“Eh? What?”

“Move! Move!”

There were a bunch of brats of poor background, running before the carriages with bloodshot eyes.

Kusla grabbed Irine with his right hand, his left on the dagger. However, he scowled.

They were not exactly robbers.

For they were not looking at Kusla’s gang.

“Merchants! Merchants! Are you selling towels! Towels!?”

“Used soot is fine! Dried horse dung! We’ll buy them at high prices!”

They gathered around the spies disguised as merchants, seated on the driver seats.

However, some skipped past negotiations as they tried to muscle their way, scavenging for goods within the carriage. The spies realized, but hesitated on whether they should draw weapons. While doing so, growls bellowed.

“You brats! How many times must we teach you this! Scram! Scram!”

The guards patrolling the walls came galloping on horses.

The brats scattered like spiders, and a few slower ones were caught in whips, tumbling down.

It all happened in an instant.

“What’s going on?”

A spy passed, discreetly sliding the hidden hatch beneath him. There appeared to be a long, thin sword hidden there, but it might be overboard for merchants aiming to defend themselves.

“There’s too many people moving around, and prices keep rising. Those brats intend to fool travelers that just arrived, not knowing of the local rates, and earn some money. The scum of this town they are!”

The guard kicked aside a boy whose feet were tied, rolling on the ground. He glared at the others who were dragging themselves away.

“Lock the goods in the inn stables before they get stolen.”

The guard noted unhappily, and returned to the wall.

Kusla turned to ask the spy.

“Is this common?”

“Supplies are often scarce on the frontlines.”

The spy shrugged.

“We’ll be sitting ducks waiting here. Better go to the inn as the guard says.”

Kusla snorted, his eyes looking at the spy holding the reins, and was suddenly hit in the chest.

“Goodness, how long are you going to hold me?”

“Hm?”

Kusla finally realized he was still grabbing Irine.

“Anything you’re unhappy about?”

“Everything.”

Kusla let go, and Irine finally let out a sigh of relief.

“But, well, thanks.”

“Hmph.”

Looking ahead, it seemed a similar conversation happened between Weyland and Fenesis.

However, the mood there was easier. Unlike Irine, Fenesis knew what bashfulness was about.

Kusla felt much for Yazon, which territory had been ravaged by the Knights.

Act 2

Though they were attacked by bandit-like brats the moment they entered through the town gates, once they saw the extraordinary bustling state of the town, they were left amazed. The people swarming into the town had just lowered their heavy goods, and there were many others who were holding all kinds of things, buying and leaving. Such crude trading could be seen everywhere.

Unlike the other cities that were clearly marked out, Yazon had some houses with pagan symbols, their roofs built with straw and dried mud, mixed together with wooden houses, creating a strange palette. While Kazan itself was intriguing for being built out of stone, the streets here were filled with the vibe of a bord town, yet it seemed the true purpose was to conceal a secret nobody knew of. A town properly planned out would have difficulty concealing things.

So they advanced through the town slowly, breaking through the crowds. Kusla discussed a few things with the spies. They were talking about Weyland’s improper character planning, for they would have to find another reason to explain why they were moving along with the spies disguised as merchants.

The result was that Kusla was from a massive guild, and the merchants were supervisors sent from that guild, tasked with expanding their business profile in mineral trading. Weyland’s the bad friend, whose knowledge of metallurgy was decent, and came along to help them to earn a living.

“So first, what do you intend to do?”

When the gang arrived at the inn under the Knights domain, the spies disguised as merchants asked.

“I guess it’s about the same as a squirrel hiding its food.”

Korad Abria might have discovered the knowledge of the Ancients, and scattered clues all over the land.

And the knowledge, lingering despite being forgotten, would surely be left behind in pictures or other means.

“So you mean the blacksmith guild, the church…or the town hall. Otherwise, we’ll have to find the famous ones here.”

Logically, this should be the order, but Kusla thought of another place.

“Aren’t there a few mud houses? I heard the pagans record their histories on the mud floors.”

“Then we’ll go ask the local priests or hexes, but what excuses do we use?”

At this point, they were no longer alchemists, unable to use the might of the Claudius Knights to barge in on unexpected visits and demand for others to obey them.

Kusla pondered.

“Yes…those people might know about the grass and trees too.”

“Grass and trees? Herbs? Well, I guess so…but that?”

“Mines can be determined by the plants growing there, and smelting requires the suitability of the wood. We can try this line of thought.”

The honest, if somewhat lazy looking merchant was actually a bonafide spy.

He immediately understood.

“So we’re investigating the plants that can help with metallurgy, right?”

“We’ll go by the front and visit the blacksmith guild and church.”

“Understood. We’ll attack from the front and show up there.”

“Understood. Can we say that we rented the inn from the Knights? It’ll give an impression that we have a backer even the Knights won’t dare to offend. That alone should be enough to ensure that your identities won’t be exposed.”

“Noted.”

For merchants hoping to expand their avenues, visiting the prestigious nobles of the land was a must, nothing suspicious. Kusla watched them merge into the crowds on the streets with anticipation, and along with the porters, he carried the goods from the carriage to their rooms.

“…What are you doing?”

He entered the room, and these were the first words he said.

Fenesis was taken aback, and remained rooted in a strange position. She was like a kitten, caught in the middle of a prank. Next to her, Irine strode off in a quick, unique manner. Weyland’s movements were a tad slow, stiffly following Irine’s footsteps.

“One step forward, two steps, three steps, spin, and bow.”

A gentle spin, the toes touched the floor, creaking.

“I did learn because it’s fine. Guess I still remember it well~.”

“You really need practice, little Ul.”

Irine said with elation, and Fenesis reeled her chin in, looking up innocently.

“How about you join in?”

“Huh?”

Kusla raised an eyebrow, sighing.

“I’m the young master of a guild now. It’s natural for me not to be able to dance.”

Irine and the others were not doing a festival dance, but one akin to an identity, spread between various blacksmiths.

There were quite a few wandering blacksmiths seeking a place to reside, but despite that, they typically end up in the next town. Some would be sent for training, stationed at a nearby town for apprenticeship, honing their skills.

Or when there were insufficient blacksmiths, they would request for aid from a town with sufficient resources.

However, they might not necessarily know each other’s faces, so there was a need for identification. If they had to prepare parchments as identification whenever they sent people over, they would surely end up bankrupt. Thus, the blacksmiths started this unique dance as a clue.

Also, one added effect was that if they find people doing similar dances, the mood would brighten, and they would get along. A workshop is a place many work at, and camaraderie is a very important thing.

“Even though you say so…”

Irine gave Kusla a significant glance.

It was then that Kusla realized this was Irine lending him a hand.

If he practiced the blacksmith dance, he could remain by Fenesis’ side, and get lots of opportunities.

“Eh, leave little Ul to me then. I’ll rust if I don’t get to move~.”

Weyland said, and Irine glared at Kusla with a reproaching look.

“Anyway, you probably find this interesting too, right?”

Hearing Weyland’s question, Fenesis kept noting Kusla’s response as she turned to him, nodding as though she had difficulty refusing. She spent a lot of her life in the monastery, and before then, was on the run while concealing her identity, so logically put, she probably never had a comfortable life where she could experience a peaceful life in which she could dance.

Also, while Fenesis’ appearance was more like a demure girl, one might notice, on a closer look, that it was not the case. It was not strange to imagine her lifting her skirt and dancing happily, even though clearly she was dressed as a slender boy.

Kusla, unable to enter the circle in time, put down the belongings unhappily.

Suddenly, Fenesis asked,

“Do you want to practice together?”

She was a little bashful, for he had just seen her dancing clumsily, or maybe, for another reason. Kusla looked back at her, his words nearly sputtering out from his mouth.

But Irine’s stinging stare eased him a little.

“I…no.”

He corrected himself.

“I guess you’re right.”

Seeing how Fenesis’ face brightened at that moment, one could only imagine how correct that choice was.

“Surely you will be able to dance well.”

She giggled conceitedly, a little impishly. It was obvious that Fenesis was the dull-witted once, but Kusla would admit he was more unlikely to dance than Fenesis.

“But since I have to learn, I will have to learn a real one.”

Kusla put up the least bit of resistance, telling Irine that.

“I’m not going to teach you a fake one~.”

Weyland refuted flatly, as though he had seen through everything. Kusla and Weyland wordlessly exchanged looks, and Irine got between them to resolve this argument.

“I can. Of course, Weyland can dance too. Now won’t we all look like we’re on good terms?”

“That’ll creep me out.”

Kusla flatly stated his thoughts, and Irine smiled. “Same here.”, so she answered. Weyland looked as though his goals were not accomplished, but he did not resist any further, probably because he was bemused by Kusla’s foolish self.

But just when the trio began their little skirmish, Fenesis was the only one who was happy.

“It is my first-time dancing with everyone.”

She was beaming, but if agitated, tears might fall from her face.

Kusla felt that the reason why he was so attracted to Fenesis, and why he dithered over the prospect of touching her, was simply because he was restrained by that fragile innocence.

“Then what do you want to do? Rehearse before going to the guild?”

Fenesis looked eager to dance with everyone almost immediately.

It was difficult to be the contrarian against the correct answer.

“Even the young master of a merchant guild has to show that he worked hard before.”

Such might be the answer to Irine’s question.

“This is really important.”

Fenesis chimed in excitedly.

 

The results were as predicted.

Kusla got the hang of it soon after, and Fenesis never improved at all.

It felt as though she was a young child who had not buttoned properly, unconfident, rather than just being dull.

The two teachers were scowling away. Irine’s reaction was a given, but even Weyland was not taunting Kusla. They were just looking at Fenesis, looking concerned.

Kusla was showing mixed feelings on his face, not just at how Fenesis was, but also a perplexed feeling, as though a peaceful time was happening after the past surreal events had happened.

“Uu~…”

Fenesis herself was like a child, on the verge of throwing a tantrum. She lowered her head, puffing her cheeks, her lips raised really high. There was always a part where she missed the beat.

A blacksmith dance differed from the simplified footwork of a folk dance at a festival. It was originally meant as an identification, so there were a few difficult parts. Other blacksmiths too would do use variations in the same method to distinguish themselves.

Also, the dance steps might have an intent to boast, to show that one side was dexterous enough to continue with such a difficult tempo, that they were better than the others.

“Well, it’s no wonder you can’t get it immediately. I did practice it secretly at the workshop

“But…”

Fenesis peeked at Kusla.

“I’m capable of doing everything really well.”

He boasted, and Irine retorted dumbfoundedly,

“At the very least, you’re not suited to dress up like a blacksmith.”

There were clearly other hints in these words, but Kusla naturally chose to pretend not to hear.

“Also, if you can’t get it, just practice until you can.”

“Nice words~.”

Kusla was hit with another sly dig, but if he backed down here, Weyland would not let him off that easily.

He lowered his head at Fenesis, saying,

“Don’t forget, this needs time.”

The words contained an excuse Kusla said to himself.

“The problem is, even after doing that, you can’t expect a witch to sneeze immediately?”

“Eh?”

Fenesis was taken aback, and she turned back to look up Kusla.

“It’s an idiom meaning that time won’t stop.”

Kusla stretched his arms out to remove his upper garments.

“Who knows how the war will change now. Better get investigating. Are you going to keep practicing until you master the dance?”

Irine merely shrugged.

“The spies greetings will end soon. News of our arrival probably reached the guild. We can’t let their assistance be for naught.”

“I guess. We’re going to get our bodies limber, and right before the furnace is the perfect place for me~.”

Weyland might have been satisfied if he was openly agreeing with Kusla.

“That’s how it is.”

Kusla said to Fenesis, who lowered her head unhappily.

Looking down at her, he continued with a stoic look,

“I’ll dance with you later.”

Fenesis lifted her head, smiling elatedly,

“Please do.”

Kusla snorted as he took in that smile, and left the room.

On the corridor, Irine jabbed an elbow at his flank, probably not to mock him, but something despite.

Despite that, the unhappiness never vanished from his face.

Why was he toiling so much? The more he thought about it, the more bothered Kusla was.

 

It was a waste of time for the gang to flock to the guild, so Kusla went to the chapel, leaving the guild to Weyland, though he did not expect the latter to rope Fenesis along, and Irine followed him instead. There was no need for them to move in pairs. Irine herself was illiterate, so he assumed Weyland would bring her along instead.

However, Kusla had a change of mind. The chapel contained not only words, and various sculptures and paintings might leave some message behind. If it was Irine, she might be able to find some hints relating to metallurgy. In the guild, they would have to pretend to ask for jobs while actually investigating if there was any hidden arts or legends. This task would be more suited for the smooth talker Weyland, and with a lackey like Fenesis who knew nothing, the other party might let its guard down.

So Kusla pondered as he tried to convince himself, leading Irine to the chapel. He offered a few fragrant candles to the priest, and in his same old manner of striking a conversation, he said he wanted to pray.

“So you’re blacksmiths travelling around? I see, so you hope to get a good job? Come, come, welcome. Over here.”

This chapel was not as majestic as a Cathedral in Nilberk or any other city, one built of stone with a grand bell tower. The structure was a little desolate, but the interiors remained beautiful.

And yet one had to wonder, why is it so glorious? It was a wooden structure, and behind the prayer altar was a large glass stained window with the illustration of an angel.

“I can’t tell if it’s meant to be extravagant or not.”

“Well, it’s a bustling town. Maybe it’s not that they’re lacking funds, but since they’re living with pagans, if they pull anything too fancy, it’ll just result in unhappiness.

“Sure reminds me of Gulbetty…”

For someone who was one the leader of the guild, the tussle for authority within the walls was often the lesion for headaches.

“And this town is surrounded by forests. I heard that glass is expensive because most of it goes to fuel.”

“Ah, this is right. I’m jealous of how much fuel they have. Back in Gulbetty, and I had to fight with the other guilds.”

“In that case, the metalworks here should be doing well.”

“Any interesting stories left behind?”

Irine shrugged. There were thirty, forty or so people within this cramped chapel, and besides an old lady who seemed to have a lot of free time, there was a man dressed as a traveler praying with his family. He probably was headed off for a journey.

Kusla and Irine sat side by side at the last bench in the chapel, and began to pray.

“Never thought you’re pretty pious.”

It seemed Irine was the first to open her eyes and left her head.

“I probably can act in a somewhat decent manner.”

“…Are you really adaptable or not?”

Irine said, looking dumbfounded, and he nodded, having recently noticed his own clumsiness.

“So? What are we doing?”

“Go ask the priest just now.”

They got up to leave their seats, and left the church by the corridor. It’s a small wooden chapel, but structurally, it was similar to the other Cathedrals.

However, there was another thing they noticed besides the glamor of its appearance.

“This is,”

Irine widened her eyes.

“A legend…no, the creation of this town.”

Chapels often have a corridor to revisit the past. The people back then were more foolish than now, and for those who knew no words, the chapel would depict the contents of the Bible in the form of illustrations. The corridor is meant to ensure there was enough wall space.

At this point, such could be witnessed because prior to the previous generation, this was the frontline they could spread their religion.

“Is that…a travelling friar? With a book in hand. It’s probably saying his back is against the sun, covered in clouds, bringing light into the dark forest, and opened up the place.

“I can’t see the ears…”

Irine narrowed her eyes at the wall, but unfortunately, the friar’s hood was really lowered, and the ears could not be seen. Clearly he was dressed as a traveler, and there were several others dressed like him, tailing him.

“And what…is this?”

The murals were like a picture scroll on the wall, and the story developed as they went further in.

In the forest, the beasts and shadows were scattered aside, and there was an open land, where the town was raised. There were many gathered at the center.

“Are these…the Pagans?”

Gathered around what appeared to be a well were a group of people, the priests and the town folk, along with people dressed in rich dark robes of a different religion. They were holding the symbol of a foreign priest, a worn-out staff.

However, it appeared they were not antagonistic against each other.

Both Kusla and Irine looked up at the sky in unison, and it appeared something was coming out from the well.

“Is it rare?”

They turned towards the source of the voice suddenly asking them, and found that it was the priest.

“Those from the South often look confused by this.”

There was no guilt in the beaming smile. The town itself resembled one at least, and there was no need to conceal the fact that they were on good terms with the pagans.

“But this town had been recognized by the Pope.”

“What do you mean?”

Asking this time was Irine. Considering that the blacksmiths were often conservative, her curiosity was extraordinary.

“What they call Pagans actually come in various forms. Some are hopelessly involved in evil religions, and some embraced the wrong ones due to their own mistakes. For the people who lived on these lands since ancient times, there were a minority who worshipped the same God as us. This is proof of a miracle granted by God’s blessing. It was said an angel once descended upon this place.”

Even Kusla could sense Irine tensing up when she heard this. In the past, he would sneer at these words, but after his experiences in Kazan, he could only assume that any legend, or even rumor, was a warped version of history.

“It’s said the angel of knowledge and light, Lumière, once came to this place.”

Knowledge…and light.

Kusla asked,

“Does this have anything to do with the founding of this town?”

The story depicted on the mural started off with a friar holding a book, his back facing the sun as he dispersed the darkness.

“Yes, of course. Getting down to it, it’s because of the legend here that we know that on this land, those called pagans are brothers with us. It was said that when this land was covered in darkness and ice, and the envoy who shooed the beasts and pain away descended from the heavens. He had the power of a sun, and purged all the plagues through the light no eyes could stare at. It was exactly the same as it was described in the Bible.”

The depiction involved an angel wielding a sword in one hand, and a book in another.

He was a common, familiar existence in the books of alchemy that were furbished splendidly. There were dozens of angels and demons, but one at least would be similar to the pagan’s dreams. That was what the old Kusla would have thought.

But his experiences at Kazan happened.

“So the light nobody could stare directly at is a dragon after all?”

The moment Kusla mentioned this, the priest blinked.

“Oh, God. We heard about the rumors. The Claudius Knights raised an envoy of calamity.”

He shook his head, sounding terrified,

“I’m not sure of the dragon. Heard that it was a weapon so vicious, nobody expected it to exist. However, our Angel is not the case. He was not using the hellfire that scorched everything, and as it goes, it was a light of kindness brought about by the sun, a strange power. It’s like the sun was summoned to this land. Thus, our paintings often involve the sun.”

The priest looked up at the mural dotingly. Truly it did not contain any of the calamities as depicted in Kazan, an abnormal army leading dragons to trample upon the enemy.

“But despite this, we often hear of similar stories. Some can’t be verified to be a complete hoax. Thus, the legends about angels in this town is probably the only part different from the truth after all.”

The priest lifted his chest proudly, point at the continuation of the murals.

It was common to be proud of their hometowns, especially when they have unique legends.

The legend of Kazan was shocking, and these stories here were the opposite, silly and ridiculous.

The legend of Kazan was shocking, and these stories here were the opposite, silly and ridiculous.

“The legend goes that an angel once presented a handful of ash to humanity, informing them that it’s ash that can produce silver and gold. The people then scattered the ash onto the ground, using them as fertilizer to grow silver and gold, which they used as investment in the town. There are other places with such legends abound, but this one has a clear proof left behind, this town.”

The priest said gleefully.

The ancestor who founded our town was a sage who once wandered through, or a lost king who was led by the pixies of the springs. Most stories of a town’s creation would end right at the moment of the opportunity, and never went into details on how they gathered the money to build, and others.

Kusla’s eyes widened, his lips showed a rare smirk, for this legend was too weird, yet despite it being all silly, there was some proof to it. Is it because the person describing this story sounded like a blacksmith? Or was it that there was some element of truth to what happened?

“Also, the Pope himself has granted his recognition.”

Looking over at where the priest pointed giddily, Kusla’s lips showed a bolder smile.

At the end of the murals, there were words written in fluid handwriting.

 

——This legend has been verified by the Pope’s inquisitorial council.

 

It was signed by Korad Abria.

The Ancients came to this land eons ago, and left behind technology that could rival the Gods, or so the inquisitor believed. Kusla was present because he found the words left behind by the inquisitor in Nilberk.

And if they could find more technology of the Ancients, surely it would be one on part with the dragon flamethrowers.

For example, something that could cause an envoy to descend from the heavens. For example, a way to summon the sun to the lands. For example, miracle ash that could facilities the growth of gold and silver.

If this signature was proof that the three otherworldly skills did exist, Kusla had nothing to say.

Was it a show of Korad Abria’s fanaticism, or the amazing technology the Ancients had?

“So, your seeking of work in this town might be the most logical thought. The one rule this Yazon abide in, is kindness like the sun.”

While the conclusion in the end was nothing much to talk about, Irine next to him seemed really impressed.

“Even so, the war isn’t looking like it’ll end, and the seeds of misfortune won’t vanish from the world. It’s really tragic.”

For some reason, the Church people were always exaggerated. Kusla had assumed the priest looked suspicious because of this.

“Also, since you’re looking for work in this town, I hope you’ll take note of something.”

“Yes?”

Kusla asked, and the priest pointed at his temple, as though trying to extract the source of his migraine.

“There’s a group of craftsmen you should never involve yourself with. They’re the ones who defiled the legend of the sun on this land. They might be planning to rope in any unwitting, wandering blacksmiths along. Their sins are heavier than the pagans. Never ever

The priest sounded as though he was discussing something filthy.

“Now, what they produce is really great, but it’s better not to get involved with them. They’re…”

Hearing the explanation, Kusla was increasingly incredulous.

Irine too might have felt the same.

The priest himself seemed to understand how they felt as he continued to explain more.

It was said they worked deep in the forest, away from the crowds.

It was said they had the wisdom of witches.

It was said they removed the blessings granted by the sun.

“But that work was so unexpectedly hated.”

Once they left the church, Irine expressed her utmost surprise.

“It’s really rare to see such things in this town. I thought it’s a job to be respected though. Besides, isn’t everything using all kinds of things just to get what them?”

“And it’s expensive.”

“Clearly that church has those things.”

Irine criticized the priest emotionally, probably having witnessed how baseless accusations resulted in the white kitten-like cat to be cruelly treated.

But Kusla himself found this to be pretty strange. He felt that the craftsmen the priest really reviled were in charge of producing something extraordinary.

“Glass makers?”

Honestly put, while there was glass in the town, there was no glass maker to be seen. Kusla had always assumed that glass had to be produced in certain areas, so while there were many towns famed for producing glass, they were simply restricted to those towns, and thus, a town typically would not have glass.

“What do you think about this?”

Irine stood before the church, looking over at the crowds as she asked,

“Well…leaving aside those craftsmen, I really like the legend about the sun. There’s something kind about it, but how does it work in reality? I can’t imagine at all. Did that really happen?”

Kusla did not know how serious Irine was, but he had some thought about it.

“While the legend has some truth to it, it’s not exactly the whole truth. If that’s the case, well, I got an idea.”

“Eh? You’re kidding, right? Which one?”

“Well…there are three points that can explain it.”

“…”

Irine gulped nervously, and sensed that she could finally see Kusla’s side as an alchemist after a long time.

“Actually, there’s only one crucial point. The ash.”

The strange ash could create silver and gold when scattered upon the ground. Irine showed a confused smile, for the legend of the ash was beyond her understanding.

“There’s a saying since the past that silver and gold are plants. That ash is probably a fertilizer.”

“R-really?”

“Have you seen golden crystals? They look like moss growing on rocks. Pure copper and silver are the opposite. They look like roots growing deep underground. Once your see these crystals, you’ll understand why the Ancients said that silver and gold are plants. Crystalline minerals do look like mushrooms.”

“Eh, then, wait…”

“But an alchemist’s nature is to experiment before he can be satisfied. After many years of growing, the conclusion is that silver and gold won’t just grow out like that.”

Irine found it a regret, and yet relieved, and Kusla continued,

“Despite that, in another thousand years or two, they might really grow…maybe some might develop fertilizers that will cause silver and gold to grow.”

What intrigues alchemists is the hidden possibility.

But for every incredible legend that leaves people excited, the ending would typically be boring.

“Actually, except for the ridiculous ones, I can think of the basis of the ash legend.”

“Huh, eh?”

“A forest fire.”

Irine was left all the more confused.

“We don’t often hear about them nowadays, but in the past, there were beds of silver and gold lying bare on the ground. If there was a forest fire, it becomes a natural furnace, and the silver and gold just shows up. It looks like a spring of them.”

The last bit was an aged metaphor, and Irine’s eyes were looking into the distance.

She might be reminiscing the scenes back then.

“Since there might be traces of a forest fire, there has to be ash everywhere. Once they look like scattered ash, the silver and gold will just grow out. Also, the flaming hills might have been seen as the sun falling down, and the kings of the forests, the wolves, the bears, and other beasts, would have to run away without a fight. An angel descending from the heavens might refer to the cause of the forest fire, typically a thunderstrike. This should be the basis of the legend.”

Irine gulped.

However, Kusla was a little delighted to see that face, for her face was one of regret. While she had a realistic view of this, she was somehow eager to accept the unrealistic.

“Also, most of the legends are like this…in that case, is it possible that we can’t find the Ancients’ knowledge here?”

If the basis of this legend simply involved a forest fire, then it had nothing to do with technology.”

“B-but they’re strangely hostile to the glassmakers, and involved the legends too. Does it really not matter at all?”

“Hm.”

Kusla could only answer thusly.

“Assuming that the legend is real, Abria hid something on this land.”

“Hm?”

“Don’t you think this is the perfect place to hide something?”

“What do you mean?”

Kusla shot a sarcastic sneer.

“Rotting things are often hidden by a lid.”

If the high officials of the town ordered the people not to involve themselves with the glassmakers, then the glassmakers would naturally be secluded, never interacting with the outside world. After all, they live in a forest.

If it was the result of someone’s ploy to conceal the real reason…

While Irine found the assumption to be logical, it seemed she was not a fan of Kusla’s thought process. She scowled, and said,

“So, we’re investigating those glassmakers?”

Faced with Irine’s accusations, Kusla shrugged.

“Trust will blind a person’s eyes, but without any modicum of trust, nothing new can be discovered. An alchemist has two different people living inside.”

“Oh, I see. No wonder you’re so untrustworthy.”

Kusla was unused to receiving praise, but he certainly heard his fair share of insults.

“We’re looking for lost ancient technology, not a forest fire.”

“I know that. It’s just that after leaving the town, I’m just interested in some strange things. It’s just…a little embarrassing for me to be fully invested in such thoughts…”

Searching for the absurd is not something a good citizen, an esteemed blacksmith should have.

“This doesn’t sound like anything I heard before.”

Kusla coldly looked towards Irine, for the latter always gave him a huge verbal lashing whenever the topic involved Fenesis.

Irine stared at Kusla unhappily.

“…These two things aren’t the same.”

“Hah.”

Of course, Kusla himself realized it was just a little payback.

“But do you know how to produce glass?”

“Just the knowledge from books. Never actually got down to doing it. It’ll be really time consuming if I do so.”

Kusla answered as he strode forth. Irine too followed suit.

“I thought there’s nothing more complicated than smelting metals. Is glass really more difficult than that?”

“I know it needs temperatures similar to iron.”

It seemed Irine knew how difficult it was when he said so.  Iron was one of the toughest metals to control. It’s difficult just to maintain the temperature, additives had to be added in cautiously, and the fire control was delicate.

“Also, lots of additives are needed if we want to make good glass…right, I remember. I heard the glassmakers are pretty secretive about such knowledge.”

“Is that so?”

“Adding anything will result in a completely different outcome. But, I see…maybe that’s the reason why they’re doubted?”

Irine deliberately snorted,

“Well, it’s knowledge and experience they gained for themselves, and nobody really wants to share it. I can understand that.”

She retorted accusingly.

Irine was once half-threatened by Kusla to create a replica of the Damascus steel. The skill was a secret her husband and the blacksmiths his age kept for themselves in order to survive.

“But, speaking of which.”

“Huh?”

Kusla asked, and saw Irine grimacing,

“I understand the feeling of wanting to understand a knowledge I don’t know. Fire control especially, since it might be of help in smelting metals.”

Kusla chuckled. Irine herself was truly one with her profession.

“So, let’s go meet up with little Ul. They might have gotten something themselves.”

“Let’s do that.”

Kusla answered, and they moved off to the inn. Then, Irine said,

“Ah, before that, I want to go elsewhere. Is that okay?”

“Huh?”

“The blacksmith street.”

She was really just thinking about work, not clothes, not food. This was truly something to be impressed by.

And yet, intriguing.

“In that case, you could have just gone with Weyland.”

And Irine, who was about to walk off in a completely opposite direction, turned around,

“I don’t mind that, personally, but I’m scared if you might kick up a fuss.”

It was an indomitable smile.

Kusla sighed dejectedly, and Irine burst out laughing. Kusla could actually prod a little or grab Fenesis by the nape, but Irine would not stop just because of this.

Though he found Irine a troublesome woman, strangely, he was not unhappy with her.

“Whatever you please. I’ll be going back to the inn–“

Before he could finish.

“Come along too.”

A tad later, Kusla stared right at Irine.

“What?”

“Did you forget what happened when we entered town? I don’t want to be moving alone in a foreign town. I’m a weak girl.”

“…”

You’re really troublesome, so Kusla clearly expressed on his face. Irine put her hands on her hips, saying unhappily,

“Seriously, pay me back for the debt you we.”

To an outsider, such a scene might resemble lovers having their usual squabble.

In fact, Kusla was showing weakness with a bitter grimace, and looked no different from a man who had his lover sit on his face.

Kusla knew very well that he owed Irine a huge favor.

“…I thought I was the one who brought you out of Gulbetty.”

Back then, Irine was eager to leave, but could not. Especially since she’s a woman, which made things more difficult.

“We’re already even. I made the fake Damascus steel for you.”

She was right, and so, Kusla dithered on his reply. Irine would never let this slip.

“Now, this won’t take too much time, right? Or are you a scoundrel who knows not of repaying?”

If it had been before he met Irine and Fenesis, he would have curtly answered, yes.

However, the red eyed girl before him was not just some passer-by on the street he would never meet again.

And he knew of the situation. It would be troublesome if he made Irine his enemy. He did not want to know what would happen to himself if she teamed up with Weyland, using Fenesis as a tool. A long time ago, Irine and Fenesis teamed up in an elaborate ploy to fool him. Irine herself knew how to use this fact well.

Kusla, never used to admitting defeat in a debate, could only look afar.

“Alright, let’s keep going.”

Fenesis was often tailing Kusla frantically, but Irine confidently strode off. Of course, he could have chosen to ignore her, but he foresaw that if he did so, nothing good would happen.

Kusla sighed hard, and slogged his feet behind Irine.

 

Yazon’s blacksmith street seemed to function as a market too, and the blacksmiths were working with benches laid out from their workshops, taking the samples off their walls from time to time, touting to any traveling merchant or townsperson.

Some tried to break up the monotony by creating noises, hammering metals, grinding saws on wood, singing blacksmith songs out loud. If Fenesis, whose ears were really potent, was present, she might be in a daze.

Of course, Kusla did not hate any of this. Such erratic chaos was brimming with life, causing him to be internally riveted.

“Lots of iron tools here. Hm…”

Irine chose a hoof on the wall, muttering while mesmerized.

Typically saying, it would be an intriguing sight to see a girl of Irine’s age holding a hoof on the blacksmith street, but it was not unnatural in the slightly. Her presence as a blacksmith was really heavy.

“Still inferior to the one in Kazan.”

Kusla shrugged. The mines surrounding Kazan were as abundant in iron and copper as wells. Of course, the refining skills there was a lot more developed. It would be cruel to compare them.

“To be honest, for such quality, it’s a little…no, it’s very expensive.”

Irine hushed her voice. They were standing before a workshop of a nail maker. There were several boxes dividing the areas, and nails of various sizes were in them. There was a large man with arms the size of Irine’s waist holding a scorching red piece of metal, pulling it through a little hole on a steel plate. The metal string pulled out would become a nail.

“Hm, but is it because of inflation? Guess it’s to be expected here…”

“More than the skills, the iron used here is the problem…”

Kusla took the nail up, and said,

“Is there any difficulty in the refining? The furnace, maybe?”

“Lack of skills? Or the minerals?”

While the duo was whispering away, a merchant exclaimed exaggeratedly.

“Is this all you can sell?”

The apprentice called to run the shop’s business kept working as he answered impatiently,

“You don’t have to buy, Mr Merchant.”

“Ghhh…”

Even though the quality was insufficient, they could only buy what was there.”

“Damn it! Choose some that can be used to repair a carriage.”

“Sure.”

This merchant might have visited the other workshops, and gave up.

However, the apprentice did not appear to be capable of selling things. He was looking gloomy.

Once he saw the disciple and the surrounding liveliness, Kusla shrugged.

“This might be on purpose.”

Such words left Irine frowning,

“They lowered the quality on purpose? Which foolish guild would allow this to happen?”

“You just saw the situation, right? Even if the quality’s a little worse, they can only choose to accept. This is probably what the blacksmiths aimed for.”

Kusla tossed the inferior nail back into the box, continuing,

“Looking at how there’s lots of impurities, it’s very likely that it’s due to incomplete roasting. My guess is that the fuel has been drastically reduced.”

When smelting, a day and night’s worth of fuel is required to maintain high temperatures. Impurities are then removed to obtain high quality iron.

“Hm, but I don’t know whose is this.”

 

“…”

Irine stared into the box of nails, looking grim. She took the position of guild leader unwillingly, but she did have some lingering sense of responsibility regarding the management of blacksmiths.

“I heard this is a town of many religions. If the merchants are in control, the town will run as they say. So–“

Right when Kusla was about to finish his words, Irine again looked towards the bustling blacksmith street.

Then, the ponytail behind her swayed before Kusla as she entered again.

Kusla had no chance to call for her.

Looking at the sample hanging off the workshop wall Irine went to, there should probably be some large tool specifically meant to craft swords and axes.

For a moment, he wondered if she was going to complain to the blacksmiths, but on a second thought, she probably was not this nitpicky. He peeked in from the outside, and saw her passionately exchanging words with the blacksmiths. Here’s a strange customer, so the notion appeared on their faces. Anyone would simply raise their guard as long as someone showed interest in their work, especially if it was a girl.

And Kusla, left outside the door, snorted out a sigh.

“She didn’t need me to come by anyway.”

So he muttered to himself, and suddenly noticed that it was as Irine said, he would pout.

Damn it…so he scratched his head. Something was definitely off about him.

However, it was pointless for him to keep waiting, and he did not want to join Irine’s group. So Kusla loitered around.

The town was lively, with lots of pagans, the things available full of foreign flair, interesting, but workmanship-wise, there was nothing worth taking note of. While Kusla wanted to see if there was anything resembling Kazan’s dragons, or anything that fancied his eye…something decent unexpectedly entered his sights.

Amongst the rows of blacksmiths, there was an extremely intriguing signboard, an illustration of a tool made by linking wheels together.

“A drug store?”

The aphrodisiac he mentioned to Irine appeared in his mind. What am I being a fool for, so he lamented in his heart.

However, he recalled the legend he saw on the church. He did mention to the spies that they could use the plantations at the mines as an excuse to investigate, but assuming that the basis of it was a forest fire, perhaps they could really use it as a reason to. When the mineral beds are exposed to the elements, the plants on the surface will clearly change.

Of course, Kusla did not wish for it to be a forest fire. While it could explain the three points, the situation would change drastically if not the case, for it showed that the godly technology truly existed.

One of them involved fertilizers used to grow silver and gold, an interesting ash. Fertilizers would included remains of burnt plants, and a drug merchant might be someone to ask.

So Kusla thought as he wanted to push the door open. Right at that moment, he sensed someone next to him.

“Erm.”

He knew, without looking back, who it was. He hesitated on looking back, for he could tell from her tone how elated she looked the moment she spotted him.

“This is unexpected.”

Perhaps he should simply answer, yes. Alchemists did not have the habit of idle chatting once they meet anyone else in town.

Kusla looked back, and as expected, Fenesis was smiling so happily.

“Want to buy something?’

She, dressed in male clothing, really resembled a boy, and might have more confidence moving through a crowded town.

Clothing truly makes a person, it seemed.

“…What’s that Weyland doing?”

“Eh?”

However, she was a little perturbed by this question.

“E-erm…he said he will look at the workshop.”

“Hmph.”

Then, Kusla sensed that at the direction Fenesis was looking, Weyland was intentionally waving his hand.

Perhaps they did find Kusla out of coincidence, but Weyland could not have left Fenesis alone before leaving. It was very likely Weyland was nudging Fenesis, pushing her here.

Kusla did not know whether it was out of mockery, or earnesty, and sighed.

“So? When did your God tell you it’s fine to lie?”

The moment he said so, Fenesis shriveled in shock. Her eyes looked really vexed, and she probably was thinking, could you have pretended not to notice even if you did?

Kusla kept thinking of Irine’s words.

If he was not retorting with sarcasm, he was being stoic.

She was right on the money.

But he would be ashamed as an alchemist to know of the symptoms and not try to cure it.

He wanted to do his best.

“Perfect timing anyway.”

“…Wh-what do you mean?”

Fenesis asked, sounding wary, fearful of being teased by him again.

“Find something.”

“F-find something? In the shop?”

“There’s fever, stomachache medicine, and various other stuff. Honey, dried sweet fruits.”

Fenesis seemed to scent upon a malicious intent to tease her.

“Look, I’m not making fun of you. This is a fact.”

She too might have realized that she was often careless whenever sweet foods were involved. Towards the very end, her leery attitude never relaxed.

Kusla shrugged reluctantly. He really had no intention of that.

“If you have anything you want to eat, I’ll buy for you.”

The pride and appetite clashed, and the expression on Fenesis’ face quickly changed, yet the result left Kusla highly surprised.

“…No need for that.”

For some reason, she looked really unhappy.

Kusla was feeling confused, as though he had seen an outcome never seen before despite it being the metallurgy work he was so familiar with.

Right when he was wondering how to phrase his answer, Fenesis muttered,

“I did not call for you because I had anything.”

“…”

He was overwhelmingly experienced to her in terms of alchemy, let alone arm strength. He could easily beat her whenever it came to bickering, to the point of shambles. However, Kusla was terrified of the girl before her. He had no intention to hurt her. He just wanted to pique her curiosity.

“More importantly, why this shop?”

It was Fenesis who changed the topic.

One had to wonder, who really was the matured adult.

Kusla found himself to be shameful, but it was a fact that he felt so relieved.

“I said I’m here to look for something.”

“…Sweet snacks?”

Fenesis threw a tantrum as she retorted. A smart girl she was.

Kusla answered deflated, admitting defeat,

“Look, I’m really not making fun of you. Don’t be so suspicious.”

The widened green eyes were exactly the same as a stray cat suspicious of others.

However, she was exuding the feeling of one who was fed several times, wondering if she should trust him.

“It is all down to the misunderstandings caused by your usual actions.”

“Sorry.”

Kusla said tiredly, and Fenesis let out a large, unique sigh.

“So, what is this thing you are looking for? This is…a drugstore no?”

She was reverting back to being the arrogant brat working as an invigilator when they first met.

But the situation was different. She, who was confident without reason and utterly pretentiously, was trained through experience, and Kusla himself was the one retreating.

The issue was, did he dislike this? Not at all, it seemed.

So Kusla, frustrated with himself, answered honestly.

“Of course, I’m talking about herbs. Alchemy doesn’t just involve minerals.”

“Eh?”

Fenesis might not have expected Kusla to answer with a serious look, and was clearly confused,

“B-but…you once said alchemists are not witches and such…”

When they first met, she seemed to have assumed alchemists to be wizards, boiling lizards and toads and the like in a cauldron.

Not a long time had passed, but she understood that was not the case. However, it was also fact that there would be no smoke without fire.

Kusla cleared his throat, and said with a grim face,

“Look, about witches…those are a little ambiguous.  Witches, alchemists, both can be said to be seeking to change things that typically can’t be changed through external factors. Our furnace can turn ores into metals, and herbs will change people’s bodies. It’s a fact that herbs are much more significant in magic than alchemy. You heard of them too, right? Hyoscyamine, belladonnas…and mandrakes.”

“Eh, then…those are…”

There were quite a few demonic plants due to countless legends, especially mandrakes which roots were said to be humanoid, and would let out shrill shrieks once they were pulled from the ground, causing all who heard them to die. There was also other folklore which stated that the mandrakes had to be tied to a dog’s feet, that the dogs were to be summoned from afar, so that the dogs would pull it out from the ground.

“I did use such plants to make medicine a few times…I never tried them, and I never asked the users, so I’m not too sure about the effects.”

Fenesis looked up at Kusla, looking completely mesmerized.

She was terrified of asking, and yet terrified of not asking.

She was a girl who dared not to head to the latrine alone at night, yet yearned to hear strange tales or folklore about the forest.

“Wh-what was the medicine?’

Kusla looked down at Fenesis with a serious look.

“An aphrodisiac.”

And seeing Fenesis’ dumbfounded look, he was pleased.

“The ingredients sound scary, but when I say it out, it really sounds foolish. In a certain sense, it might be considered a cursed tool.”

It would be considered cursed if it could really curse people to love those they never did. Kusla would have thought of it as a fraud he could laugh off as long as he would not use it as a tool for a political marriage like nobility.

“Of course, I’m not sure whether it’s effective or not. The ingredients aren’t that easy to get. Also, it’s just a little pastime. I’m really going to ask about this town’s legends…”

Suddenly, Fenesis had ignored Kusla’s explanation as she lowered her head, clearly with something on her mind. Kusla was puzzled.

He stopped, and Fenesis looked at him with teary eyes.

“Wh-what are you buying that for?”

A question could clearly show what the asker was thinking.

What she knew not of, what she was concerned about, what she wanted to know.

Fenesis wanted to know what Kusla was intending to use the aphrodisiac for, looking really stubborn in the meantime.

With a deadpan look, Kusla answered,

“Of course, I’m going to use it.”

“…”

Fenesis’ face was filled with despair. The maiden’s thought process was really simplistic.

Given the nature of an aphrodisiac one would thinking the usage of this drug is to force those who were not in love to fall in love.

Thus, she assumed Kusla was going to use it on a certain person other than herself.

For she and Kusla…

She was simply discreetly hoping for things to develop a little further. Kusla found it gaudy, and left it as it was.

Despite that, it was clear Fenesis was completely baited.

So Kusla reeled the bait in hard.

“I’ll use it on someone I don’t want hating me when she does hate me.”

It was called a drug to reclaim one’s love.

Then, he slapped Fenesis hard on the head.

A dumbfounded Fenesis looked up at Kusla, flabbergasted. One might say she was confused on how to react, rather than failing to understand the meaning behind those words.

In such moments, the body’s more honest than the intellect. Her cheeks immediately turned red, her lips curled into a triangle.

The emotions were unable to be restrained, like a taut bow.

Fenesis gritted her teeth, and yelled out loud,

“Well, great if they do sell it!”

I hate you!

She was seething all over, and yet Kusla could only scent upon the sweet fragrance of a fragrance bag.

Fenesis was utterly furious, yet her hand was tugging at Kusla’s sleeve hard.

So Kusla put his hand on the door of the drug store, thinking bemusedly that this was something not even an aphrodisiac could defeat.

They entered the shop, and an inexplicable scent came. Simply put, it was not not a simple dried herb, but the scent of plants with unique properties.

Kusla could distinguish a few from his memories, but to Fenesis, it seemed it was just a pungent, messy smell.

She held her nose, sneezing a few times.

“There’s quite a lot of stocks.”

The interior of the shop was pretty unique, and in the rectangular alignment, each wall had tables and cabinets lined upon them.

There were a few drawers on the cabinet, and each drawer had a parchment slip fastened by wires. There were tables of different heights, rows of cans, each filled with dried or powdered herbs.

There was a cashier facing the entrance, and behind it was a portrait of the Archangel Lumière, kindly looking down upon the people blessed by the herbs granted by the land and the sun, or even smiling down at those he knew would be using the medicine as poison.

There was nobody manning the cashier, perhaps as the person had left, and there were a few ridiculously airtight vials. They too had parchment slips on them, and the faded words were evidence that they had not been torn for a long time. The words on them were ‘iron hats’, ‘nobility sleep pills’, etc.

Such ‘iron hats’ were mostly used in war, and the floral shapes were reminiscent of such, and the villagers using it for hunting wild beasts would give it affectionate names, like ‘bird head’, ‘bird cap’, or ‘Aconitum’. A little bit would be enough to kill a bear or a wolf, so it was definitely potent. As the words implied, the ‘nobility sleep pills’ was a potent poison that could cause anyone to die in a sleep-like state, used for high ranking nobility who were unsuited for the gallows or beheading. Besides this puppet-like name, there was a comprehensive name called ‘poison ginseng’.

Of course, the shop did not only contain such poisons. There were herbs of various types, spices used in cooking. Fenesis was slowly getting used to the smell as she looked around at the fennels, cloves and mints, even twitching her nose.

In any case, while this shop sold poisons, the caretaker was careless. On a closer look, there were other precious items on the counter. There was a piece of glass the size of a loop formed by locking the index finger and thumb together, and resembled a water droplet on a canvas. It was something used to expand the size of the book, a glass the priests would use to read in the dark towers at night. It was an expensive item, yet so carelessly left aside.

Does a drugstore really earn that much? Kusla’s skepticism did not last long, for once he saw the parchment laid out on the counter, he understood.

It was not a notebook, but an epic depicting the heroics of the Knights.

Some careless apprentice was probably sent to watch the shop.

“Doesn’t seem to have what I want.”

Kusla said, and Fenesis finally recovered,

“I-is that so? A pity then.”

Her voice was shrill, and Kusla merely shrugged.

Only after their continued their conversation did the cashier notice customers in the shop, and exited.

As Kusla expected, it was a dull moving girl with blond, messy hair. She was a little taller than Fenesis, a little older, yet she was more devoid of confidence. Her shriveling back made her more diminutive. Looking at how she would use a reading glass however, it seemed she was rather cultured. Most likely, she was the lone daughter of the drug seller.

“…W-wel, come…”

She greeted the duo with a teeny-weeny voice, and sat on the chair. She peeked at the customers, Kusla and Fenesis, and returned to read the book as though she was on a pin cushion.

It was as though the duo had barged into someone’s reading room.

Kusla shrugged, and asked Fenesis,

“Have you heard of this town’s legends?”

Kusla said as he pinched some dried herbs from a vial, sniffed at it, and returned it. He remembered there should be a herb with amazing properties, capable of curbing fevers, headaches, quell excitements, and stop the development of a woman’s areolae.

An alchemist who valued logic and experience would simply shake his head and be leery of such claims.

“…I did.”

Fenesis would answer as long as she was asked. It was always because of this relief that Kusla would always tease her subconsciously.

“There really are some strange tales everywhere.”

“I do prefer this to the dragons. It sounds like a fairy tale…to be able to scatter ash and get gold and silver.”

Irine too said something similar. Women probably preferred glittering treasures in their stories to the violent legends of Kazan.

For a moment, Kusla considered informing Fenesis of the forest fire, but after a thought, he found it cute for her to have such an imagination instead.

“I came to see what was the plant source of the ash. The aphrodisiac is just a little pastime.”

Fenesis looked up to Kusla, and it seemed her rage was ignited a little again, but somewhere in there, she was relieved. Even if Kusla had obtained it and dismissed it as getting his love back again, there was no doubt it was the strong tool for a gigolo.

While Fenesis did say that the world’s more fortunate than it seemed, she was fundamentally like Kusla, always thinking that annoying, bad things often happened to her.

She wanted to treasure. As long as she felt this way, there was no need for any other reason.

The question shop was emitting a strange fragrance.

So Kusla nearly forgot the presence of a girl watching the shop as he knelt down before Fenesis.

“I can’t.”

Suddenly, an adamant voice echoed.

Kusla and Fenesis looked over to the voice, and saw the shopkeeper girl herself looking surprised.

It seemed she never expected herself to blurt out.

“You tried?”

A brief glance through the shop, and one could estimate hundreds of herbs and powder at least. It might sound simple, but using different powders would garner different effects, there were already hundreds of combinations.

“…So-someone…tried…”

She might be unused to talking with others, for she faltered once, and suddenly looked at her book again, her ears red.

“But…he…failed.”

“Hm, I guess. If he succeeded, he’ll be rich.”

That person could possibly buy the Claudius Knights completely.

However, this topic piqued Kusla’s interest greatly.

The brat did say someone tried it.

In other words, someone else assumed the legend did not originate from a forest fire.

“…A-are you interested…in this story?”

The shop girl said, never looking up from the book. She, the daughter of a medicine dealer, might prefer such stories.

After some pondering, Kusla answered,

“We’re on a journey to find work. This might be a good story to pass time on the carriage.”

A beat later, the girl did not respond, merely glancing at Kusla before shriveling back into her shell.

She had pretty sapphire eyes.

“Is there any other related rumors? I think a drug merchant might contain lots of interesting stories.”

It was because of this, that it was deemed the profession most suspicious after alchemist. They would have to enter the forest far from human sights when harvesting herbs, and those were the places only those familiar with go to. Also, they were rumored to be dealing with witches, most likely because they were simply stirring the cauldron and making medicine.

“There…there is…”

The girl stammered, probably because she too was suspicious.

However, it seemed there was no intent to end the conversation there.

The opposite, even.

Kusla was looking forward to seeing what she knew.

“I know me being with this little one here is a strange combination…but we’re blacksmiths. We’re looking for jobs, like the others. It doesn’t feel like we can stop here.”

If he had really tried looking for jobs in this place, the outcome would be the same.

They saw inferior goods when visiting the workshops, and Irine could not stand living in this town making such things.

“Is there any secretive rumor you can tell us of? Travelers should be fine, right?”

Though he was not talking to the priest, there should be quite a handful who loved to talk their legends.

A serious adult might be more prone to minding his words, but in contrast, a child brimming with curiosity would clearly love to continue.

Also, it was a girl reading an epic with an eyeglass, older looking yet prone to fantasies. Girls of similar age would be passionately picking flowers for the strong, sturdy blacksmiths around them, and she probably hardly had the time to talk to them.

So, Kusla wondered if he could hear some things about the town from her, and might find some clues.

Once he saw the girl’s serious face as she lifted her face, he shouldered a kinder smile than before.

What else to describe him but a prim and proper blacksmith? It was a smile crafted by an alchemist.

“That legend was real.”

The girl tersely answered.

“Really? But you said it’s been tried, but failed?”

“It’s real, so it was tried. The story of the ash, at least.”

Perhaps the girl was being presumptuous, due to her tone, or,

“What do you mean?”

Hearing Kusla’s question, the girl lowered her gaze for a moment, probably due to hesitation.

But there was intent in that gesture.

She looked up at Kusla, as though trying to buck herself up.

“A few people said they once saw such ash when they were young.”

Old heads were children at first…even when the old people said so, it was more of a superstition, but it seemed different coming from the girl’s mouth.

“So even after they become adults and old, they continued to seek such ash.”

Seek, fulfilling.

The false smile on Kusla’s face slowly became genuine.

It was not a bedtime story. There was some realism.

“That’s why lots of plants were gathered, and burnt to ash. This is also the reason why there are so many herbs in the shop.”

Kusla inadvertently looked around the shop

“This is the result of the people working hard, seeking the legend.”

The girl who loved heroic epics said in exaggeration, but Kusla did not dislike that about her.

It was a different matter from believing whether the legend was real.

No matter how ridiculous it seemed, anyone wanting to seek the truth to everything would leave behind knowledge through their arduous work, and would harken respect from anyone.

“Smelting and metallurgy are embodiments of knowledge after much seeking. I know how powerful it is. I know there’s no end to the search.”

Kusla said that not because he was acting, but because he was being sincere.

“Besides, your eyes say that you haven’t given up.”

He showed a sincere smile, for he sensed a nature similar to alchemists, one unwilling to give up no matter what.

People would resonate with those similar to them.

Hearing that, the girl’s face turned beetroot, but she did not shiver because of it.

“I-I believe that I will find it one day. Just…”

This was the first time she stammered.

She was bad at talking, yet she deliberately spoke to them, most likely because of something.

“Just?”

Kusla tried to get her to speak, and she did,

“That legend is about to vanish.”

“The legend?”

“Yes. Or rather, the people central to the legend.”

Such words left Kusla tense for a moment. The central figures in the Kazan legends were mutants like Fenesis.

“The legend of this town was between certain craftsmen to begin with. The people in the town are going to do cruel things to them. If-if you are interested in this legend, do you mind helping me?”

Kusla sensed something abnormal from his side, and turned over to see Fenesis standing stiffly.

He reached his hand out for her back, comforting her as he asked,

“And those craftsmen?”

The girl’s reply carried no hesitation.

“The glassmakers.”

The priest warned not to be involved with them.

The girl seemed to have realized this was the only way out as she made this determined look, and drew a letter out from the pages of the epic. She might have kept it in the book just in case.

“I can’t leave the walls, and I have nobody to entrust. So, traveler, please hand this letter over to the glassmaker in the forest. Also, please tell them, that the townspeople…intend to kill them all.”

The girl brought the letter to them with much anguish.

One would be highly criticized for handing such a letter over to a passing traveller.

But there was nobody else in town she could leave it to. The town was a concealed society. The girl’s actions were clearly a betrayal to her fellow citizens.

Fenesis seemed to have understood this, as she looked up at Kusla.

Despite that, they could not simply accept this letter out of sympathy. An alchemist would not simply falter.

To accept this, he would demand equal payment as leverage, and use the scale to weigh the risks and benefits.

“I have something to ask.”

Kusla looked towards the girl’s hand.

“Is the glass in your hand yours?”

“Eh? Ah!”

The girl seemed to have noticed she was holding onto the glass.

The way she held it was of one praying to a source of power.

“That…yes!”

“It’s really expensive. You bought it?”

The girl slowly brought the piece of glass in her clutches to her chest.

Then. she shook her head.

“My eyes aren’t good…the glassmaker who knew of this made one for me.”

Saying that, she looked towards the glass in her hand. Her cheeks were red, her expression a heartbreaking blissful. That alone would be enough reason to betray most in the town.

She probably fell in love with the glassmaker.

“Even without this…the glass made by them gives us light. They can’t possibly be bad people. I want to express my thanks no matter what.”

“Even if you betray this town?”

Kusla deliberately taunted, but unexpectedly the girl, nodded.

She looked so timid and weak, yet she had an adamant heart.

Kusla once saw such eyes before, and inadvertently sighed.

The girl was telling the truth, or so it seemed. It seemed she did establish a friendship with the glassmakers. There might also be the possibility of the glassmaker capturing the girl’s heart for their purposes, that if there was anything abnormal, she could alert them.

However, the important thing to Kusla was that the letter could become an opportunity. He had no intention of getting involved between the townspeople and the glassmakers, but he could probably use this gesture to ask something from the glassmakers.

It seemed the legend of the ash was not something that could be simply dismissed.

There were lots of them depicted as if they really happened, and lots with people claiming to have witnessed. There were few witnesses however who actually did lots of experimentation.

And according to her, the glassmakers were the original people involved in this legend, yet they lived in the forest, and were deemed antagonists by the townspeople. He could not let it slide.

In that case, this letter might be a key prepared for him.

The glassmakers all stayed in the forest to work, and were on bad terms with the town. If a traveler was to simply appear before them, the traveler might end up shooed away.

“Understood.”

So Kusla quickly accepted the letter.

“I’ll deliver it for you. That’s all. Don’t expect much more.”

At the very least, he would be honest.

“I understand.”

The girl said, and lowered her head.

“Thank you.”

She resembled one who went limp after finally solved a case file.

Kusla looked at the sides of the letter, and brought it to his clutches.

He felt that he was putting something really hot into his chest.

“Now this ends up really weird.”

Once he left the drugstore, Kusla brought the letter to his hand.

“Some might end up saved. Let us go deliver it.”

If the glassmakers would really be murdered because of maligned crimes, they should be delivering the letter, but since Fenesis called herself a partner of an alchemists, he hoped she would prioritize other reasons.

But another reason left Kusla shrugging.

“What is with you?”

“Hm? What?”

Kusla answered,

“I think that little girl is really just like you.”

“Eh!?”

Fenesis subconsciously stroked her hair. Kusla was a little taken aback by her response. Perhaps she was a little jealous of those with blond hair.

“Someone who’s extremely presumptuous, brazen, and callous.”

She was willing to betray the whole town because she fell in love while accepting the eyeglass, and even entrusted the letter to a passing traveler.

Fenesis puffed her cheeks angrily.

“But somehow, I always end up relenting at the end.”

Kusla chimed in the last bit, and Fenesis pursed her lips, tapping at his waist. She was fuming, yet she looked a little happy.

They continued walking, and a little further ahead, they saw Irine and Weyland. The latter was knelt by the roadside, drinking some wine or a beverage he bought from the roadside, while Irine stood next to him, folding her arms. Both of them were chatting as they watched the passers-by.

“Those two really don’t stand up even at such a place.”

Kusla muttered without thinking, and Fenesis too nodded, looking a little surprised.

“They really blended in…shockingly well.”

But Irine was originally a resident of a blacksmith street, and Weyland was not too different.

“It’s a little impressive.”

Kusla could somewhat understand this feeling.

“It’s like they’re old tools who have been used for long.”

Kusla said, and looked down at Fenesis next to him.

Fenesis so happened to look back up at him.

“You look like you just joined.”

Kusla preferred to detect what the other party would say, and strike first.

More than regret, he found a joy similar to whenever he talked to Irine.

“Ah, they’re here.”

While they were talking, Irine spotted them, and came running over.

Weyland himself finished the beverage, and smashed the mug on the ground. It shocked Fenesis, who widened her eyes. Cleaning ceramics were a relative chore, and most of the time, they were shattered after use.

“Anything interesting~?”

“Got a passionate love letter here.”

“Eh?”

Weyland gave a vague smile of surprise, a rarity from him.

He glanced towards Fenesis to observe.

“It’s an important one. Will be disrespectful to take it as a joke~.”

“Eh, this is about it. The owner couldn’t find anyone to leave this with, it seemed, so she asked me to deliver, to some dangerous place.”

“Hmph. We heard of some suspicious things too~.”

Weyland turned his eyes towards Irine, who shrugged exaggeratedly

“As you expected, the blacksmiths in this town have greatly cut down their fuel consumption, making such crude products.”

“Anything to do with the suspicious bits?”

Kusla asked, and raised his chin, hinting for them to head there.

They left the blacksmith street, and when the passers-by were fewer, Irine spoke up here.

“The blacksmiths here seem rather capable. They know the iron’s of bad quality, but they could only grunt and keep working. It’s not because they didn’t know how to use the fuel, but that they had to cut down.”

Hearing this explanation, Kusla recalled the apprentice’s look when he sold the crude nails to the merchants. The apprentice seemed really peeved, not happy in the slightest.

“But this really is weird. What I see is that there’s a rich forest outside the walls. It’s like, they’re people drifting on the seas; there’s water, but they can’t drink.”

“It’s worse than that. They’re just floating on a lake, but some people were guzzling down the lake water.”

“Hm.”

The entire picture was coming together.

“The glassmakers?”

They removed the grace of the sun completely.

So the priest once said. He might be referring to the trees basking under the sun.

“Right. Also, it seemed that the old nobles granted special rights to protect them, and they’re independent of the town guilds, nobody could touch them. They chopped off the trees, not leaving any behind, and that’s why fuel prices rose like crazy. There were some amongst the poor who froze to death, and it got big. Remember when we got attacked immediately after entering town?”

He recalled, and speaking of which, the townspeople wanted to buy towels, peat, horse manure, fuelwood. These were all used to keep warmth. It seemed there were a few little beggars with such needs, not because they wanted to earn profits.

“Back when I heard about it at the church, I pitied the glassmakers…but it seemed there’s a reason for that. Right, what about you?”

Kusla, who was asked, took out the letter from before.

“A cute lady in the drugstore entrusted me with a letter.”

“Enough with that. What’s that about?”

Kusla calmly explained,

“The townspeople had enough of the glassmakers, and word is that they intend to chase the glassmakers, even with weapons. From my sudden bias, I get the feeling a battle is imminent. Guess there’s such a reason after all...”

“What does that girl have to do with the glassmakers?”

Faced with Irine’s doubt, Kusla merely shrugged.

“Didn’t I mention about that love letter? No matter how the townspeople hate the glassmakers, that one girl’s different. She’s hoping for me to pass on the news to her beloved glassmaker before he gets beaten to death.”

Irine averted her eyes, looking as though she was chewing on something bitter.

The world was not so generous for all to live together without any conflicts.

“Are you on the glassmaker’s side now, Kusla~?”

Weyland asked, and sounded more surprised than irate.

“Not really. I don’t have any political aims, and I don’t have an interest in the love this brat wrote about. It’s just that, isn’t this a reason for me to ask the glassmakers?”

“Well, making glass isn’t interesting. It’s one thing if you like arts and crafts. Ah, or do you want to gift little Ul a present~?”

Weyland slandered with glee, and Kusla immediately dampened the mood.

“It seemed there’s really ash that can grow silver and gold. Rumor had it that the story originated from the glassmaker.”

Weyland already resembled a drunkard of an uncouth blacksmith, but upon hearing that, he reverted back to looking like an alchemist.

“You really think so, Kusla?”

And he did not drag the end of his words.

“It’s not some explanation I can easily dismiss. The herbs that drugstore has doesn’t match this town. I heard that she personally saw glassmakers who saw that ash personally seeking it even until their deaths, and gathered lots of plants. If it’s just a made-up story, that’s way too elaborate. Also, the story doesn’t end with them finding the legendary ash. A story ending with many failures can’t be used for boasting here.”

In other words, there was high likelihood of it being fact.

“However, they’re still hated by the townspeople, antagonistic. Looking at how they’re still working in the forest, the eccentricity is probably pretty severe. Even if we just wander into the forest and ask, we can’t expect to be welcomed.”

Saying that, Kusla waved the letter in his hand, and Weyland nodded in realization.

“I see. Now this letter really can be a good excuse for now, huh~?”

“Sort of for the sake of their sakes. It’s just that if I deliver the letter alone, it’ll be troublesome. So I decided to ask for your view.”

Weyland, whose hands were cuffed behind his head, stared coldly at Kusla.

“That’s pretty impressive. What are you planning~?”

“I’m saying this because I owe you a favor.”

A fist, that is. Kusla glared back, and Weyland’s skepticism faded as he smiled awkwardly.

“Nothing for me to object. I want to know about the ash too. What about you, little Ul~?”

Fenesis, who was suddenly asked to answer, was taken aback, only to answer seriously,

“In any case, we have to avoid conflicts as much as possible.”

When she was wearing her habit, she resembled a straight-laced sister. At this point, she was dressed like a boy, but it did not mean her personality would change drastically.

Despite that, the one whose answer they were really curious about was Irine’s.

“What about you?”

And Irine, whose back was turned on the crowd, looked really heinous.

“I’m not standing on anyone’s said.”

It was an immature attitude from her, but one would understand why she answered thusly.

“You want me not to get involved?”

Kusla just wanted to clarify, and Irine turned to stare at him.

“…I-I want to know about the ash.”

In the end, she was simply the carefree blacksmith who abandoned her town.

“I don’t hate seeing you so awkward, little Irine~.”

“Don’t add a ‘little’, there!”

Her retort left Weyland chortling.

“In that case, I’ll deliver the letter.”

“Alone~?”

Weyland asked meaningfully.

But Kusla had a serious thought.

If the four of them went over, it would be too suspicious, so that was out of the question. At most, two would go, but would it be better just by adding numbers? He recalled Alzen’s words.

Kusla looked around, and shrugged.

“I’ll go alone.”

“Th-then…”

Fenesis immediately interrupted, sounding a little angry.

But Kusla coldly stared back.

“If anything happens in the forest, I can’t save you.”

It would be romantic to think that two could welcome their demise together, but that would be too exaggerated. Such an option should be left for when they were completely hapless.

“The bigger danger than the glassmakers are bears or wolves, or if you slip and fall into a river. You can’t even dance well. I rather you stay and keep watch over our belongings.”

Weyland and Irine smiled awkwardly

Fenesis puffed her cheeks, her shoulders huffing as she turned her face aside.

“Also, I’ll have a spy come along with me. If things really get complicated, they’ll be the first to know.”

“I see. Then, we’ll stay and hear of good news from you~.”

Though still throwing a tantrum, her worried expression still lingered.

Logically, he should be grateful for her worry, but it was on the level of picking off the breadcrumbs on his clothes.

Good grief, so Kusla returned to the inn, using his fingers to stroke Fenesis’ cheeks next to him. The latter however slapped off his fingers in disgust.

Kusla returned to the inn, and the spies’ mission were done. They exchanged information with Fenesis group, and the information they got was about the same.

However, they did not understand what the glassmakers did that left the townspeople uneasy. Once they heard that Kusla was going to take a risk for someone else, they looked uneasy.

However, that only lasted until he explained everything about the legend.

“It’s like a country of gold.”

Ash that when scattered would grow gold or silver.

If the Knights could discover this miracle, conquering the world would be a breeze.

Thus, they had a common understanding, and felt that they should visit the glassmakers’ base.

Kusla then suggested for a spy to accompany him, but unexpectedly, they looked surprised.

After asking, the trio exchanged looks, before answering,

“We thought you wouldn’t let us if we’re a hindrance.”

Then, Kusla understood how the trio viewed him.

“Recently, I learned the word teamwork.”

Fenesis looked at Kusla grimly, as though wondering whose mouth that came from, but the spies did understand his intent, more or less.

“Now this is a good thing.”

“And I feel that you should know this. We aren’t hiding anything from Alzen.”

If this really worked out, it would be a groundbreaking discovery. The mission of the spies was probably to invigilate, rather than lead the way. They nodded seriously, not smiling at all.

And so, Kusla went off with one of the spies. The others left in town were to gather information about the glassmakers

Kusla wanted to ask Irine to watch over Weyland, to stop him from doing anything funny that would agitate Fenesis, but he decided to let things be, for it would be really foolish.

If Weyland was to notice how obsessive he was of Fenesis, there might be danger. While Weyland was a reliable comrade for the moment, nobody knew when he would switch around and become an enemy. Whenever people got obsessed with wealth, honor or love, they would easily fall prey to the traps lurking by and end up being used.

So Kusla put his head on his hand in an elbow rest, thinking.

If Fenesis was to be taken as a hostage, surely he would abide.

By that thinking, he could understand the feelings of the owner of the letter currently in his clutches, the blond girl.

Given her age, he would assume it was most likely just a childish infatuation.

But he accepted this letter not fully because he weighed the risks and rewards. While it sounded logical when he rationalized it to Weyland and Irine, he would be lying if he said it was not out of pity at all.

He recalled the words Irine said when they came from Nilberk.

——I want to fall in love.

He would never lambast love as a weak emotion, something to be discarded.

He personally experienced how strong a power it was. Even though the land of Magdala was glittering on the other side, the smile of a certain person next to him was no inferior, and he unwittingly learned of this fact.

He could no longer sneer and mock it.

Also, another reason was that Kusla sensed the girl really resembled Fenesis.

Damn it! So Kusla thought.

Act 3

The forest path paved to allow easier extraction of fuelwood and wild honey stopped halfway through. The carriage could not head in any further, and they had to proceed by foot, with water and food saddled upon their horses.

It was for this reason that people built walls around their towns, confident that they could control everything.

Kusla did not think of this lifestyle as anything bad, but what was disturbing was that he would forget how vast the world was.

And when the forest just opened up before them without foreboding, he had a thought.

“This…again…”

He could understand why the spy would be so amazed. It was as though he entered a pixie’s secret pair, only to end up in the middle of the town. If they had arrived after being lost, they would have assumed the spirits granted them a dream.

But after awakening from a dream, the scenes of reality appeared before their eyes.

They were standing on a mound, and looking around, there were clearly trees that were chopped down. Most of the stumps were left as they were, for the purpose was not the development of the land. It was like a princess of an enemy country being humiliated, her hair seared off messily with shears. When looking down from a bird’s eye view, the land probably looked like it had a skin disease.

The glassmakers built four shoddy houses on this land, and there was a farm. This showed that they were not here for just a day or two, but intending to settle here and devour the forest completely.

The large gut in the middle was the center of the plaza, and there were three furnaces brimming bright red.

Also, there were large glass pieces by the side of the furnace, and they, of various colors, were lined in a row by the wooden desks. One would have assumed he was witnessing a miraculous sight of a pixie coat being made, but in any case, it was truly an anomaly.

“No wonder the townspeople are angry.”

Even though it was a forest far from the people, the authority had to be with someone. Also, considering the logistics, the amount of forest space was a mere small space. The places they could gather lumber, honey, herbs and hunt beasts were unexpectedly few.

Naturally, by mass producing glass here, no beasts would approach, no honey could be harvested, and the trees would continue to decline in numbers.

It was like a calamity.

“This should be considered a dragon.”

Kusla muttered inadvertently.

“Hey! Who’s there!?”

Someone suddenly called for them.

The duo, who had no intention to hide, went down the path to the vast, cleared workplace, standing between the stumps. There were other craftsmen lifting their heads, but none stopped working, chopping the logs into planks, moving gravel, puffing the bellows. As long as they were living, their hearts pounding, they would silently fulfill the tasks they were assigned.

Looking at how none of them actually took up weapons, the glassmakers might not be as xenophobic as assumed.

“Are you lost? The town’s the other way!”

Perhaps this was commonplace.

Kusla called out in response,

“Someone in town asked me to deliver a letter!”

He took the letter out from his clutches, raising it up high. This not only garnered the attentions of the other craftsmen, they stopped working.

They exchanged looks, and then looked towards Kusla,

“Understood! I’ll call the boss!”

It seemed the person understood it was not good news in the slightest. He hurried into a house near the furnace, and then, a bearded man large liker a bear sauntered out.

“Who are you? Never saw your face around!”

Kusla shrugged, and answered,

“I’m a traveler! I’m here on the drugstory Missy’s request!”

It had been a while since he yelled like this. It was strangely tiring.

Kusla was starting to feel impatient, so he went straight to the point.

“She said the people in town are going to attack!”

Even at a distance away, Kusla could see that the man resembling the boss froze up. There was also some ruckus amongst the other workers.

The boss then finally seemed to have given up on doubting if Kusla was a spy sent from the town.

He exchanged words with the person next to him, and led another worker to where Kusla stood.

“You just mentioned Miss Helena??”

The bear-like boss bellowed, despite them being at a distance they could hear each other. Perhaps it was out of habit.

“I don’t know her name. She’s just a puppy-like girl with fluffy hair.”

“Muu!”

The boss blurted, and stopped before them.

Then, he blatantly sized up Kusla and the spy, frowning.

“This one here is a merchant?”

He snorted at the spy like a pig, and turned towards Kusla.

“You look way too suspicious.”

This criticism was way on point, and Kusla could not bring himself to be angry.

Also, the boss had a large hatchet on his waist. The worker next to him too had the same equipment.

The blade showed his anxiety, rather than it being an attempt to intimidate.

“I got chased out by a merchant guild, and became a blacksmith, so I’m just wandering around. He’s just here to watch over me. You get that?”

It was really important of them to be thorough with what they had planned. The words just flowed out of Kusla’s mouth naturally.

“Hmph…well, you do have the dumb look of one who has no money troubles.”

Kusla was relieved that Weyland and the others were not present. Even Fenesis would be laughing if she heard that.

“So after I showed this foolish face at the drugstore, she just gave this to me.”

Kusla handed the letter over, and the boss glanced at it, not receiving.

What is it? While Kusla was wondering, the young worker by the side received it.

“Excuse me.”

This young man seemed different from the boss in that he knew courtesy. However, he was pretty thorough, the cautious kind of craftsman Irine would like.

“…This is Miss Helena’s handwriting. It says that the townspeople will attack, that we should hurry…”

“Hmm.”

It seemed the boss could not read. He puffed his beard as he glared at Kusla, probably hoping to conceal this fact, treating the latter like an attacking enemy.

“So when does it say?”

“The letter doesn’t say that…”

Both then turned to look at Kusla.

“If it doesn’t say so, it means she doesn’t know either. Probably something she tried to piece together while hearing what the adults were talking about. If the townspeople know that she leaked the town’s decision, the treachery will be enough for her to end up on the gallows. For a brat, she’s pretty gutsy.”

“Hhmmm…I can’t really express my thanks fully…but why Miss Helena? I thought the one in the town informing us would be the owner, Rozz…”

It seemed the glassmakers were on good terms with the drug merchants. Most likely, due to herb supplies.

The boss turned to look towards the young worker.

Anyone could tell that the young man was sheepishly retreating.

“Muu? What’s wrong?”

The boss was the leader of a bunch of boisterous, rowdy craftsmen, and naturally had quite the keen eyesight. While working, the boss has to monitor his apprentices, to see if they were learning, or shirking, cutting corners, and doing anything bad.

But the young man never confessed.

So instead, Kusla spoke up.

“I heard it’s thanks on her part.”

“Thanks?”

The boss turned to ask, his thick neck seemingly creaking as he turned.

“It seemed that while the girl was troubled by her bad eyesight, a craftsman here gave her an eyeglass. She seemed rather smitten by that person. Looks like you got a guilty, handsome chap here.”

It was obvious that the one who gave the eyeglass was the boy before them. Kusla explained while pretending not to know.

“Rihito, you’re doing this secretly?”

The boss admonished, and the young man called Rihito lowered his head in realization.

But he did not remain silent.

“I used the broken pieces…before I slept…”

This excuse left the boss dumbfounded, and the latter’s face was slowly breaking into a grimace.

“This isn’t what I’m blaming you for. You can make an eyeglass out of the broken pieces. The problem is…”

The boss sighed hard, and his body expanded before he exhaled again.

“Know your identity. We can’t pass the walls.”

“I-I have no intention of that–“

“It’s fine to reach out and help others, but know that once you feed a puppy, it will follow you. If you can’t raise it, you shouldn’t doing this. We aren’t supposed to be close to the townspeople. Don’t daydream, and don’t let her daydream. if you do, you end up stepping into a pothole, or get pulled in.

Hearing the boss’ lecture, Kusla’s lips curled up into a sarcastic smirk. It seemed that compared to the blacksmiths in town, the glassmakers were similar to alchemists. In that case, this young man might not be that reliable.

It was unknown what opportunity happened, but he did gain the admiration of a genial girl like Helena, to a point of willingness to sacrifice herself. Rihito himself looked the honest chap, and that eyeglass was probably one reason. Perhaps he helped her out often.

One would wonder if Rihito was kind to Helena because he liked her, or that he was kind to her despite not liking her. Kusla did not know, but it was really clumsiness on Rihito’s past.

“But now the puppy is barking to warn you of danger. Why not use this news?”

Kusla reminded, and the boss, who seemed to have more words for Rihito, turned around, saying,

“You’re right. I’ll have to thank you for bringing this letter through the walls. Thanks.”

The boss put his hands on his knee, bending as he lowered his head.

As the priest indicated, the forthright man was living as a hermit in the forest, yet he differed greatly from the impression of a mystical witch.

“You must be tired passing through the forest and coming here. I can still serve some wine and a place to warm yourself.”

The boss said, and turned back. Kusla too followed without hesitation.

Rihito, who was reproached because of Helena, was rooted to the spot with a gaudy look. It seemed he was blaming himself for being so useless, and also worried for Helena’s safety. Kusla passed him by, having assumed he would say something. However, Rihito kept his head lowered.

While Rihito had grown to be an adult male, his heart remained immature.

Kusla wordlessly passed him by, and asked as he followed the boss,

“It seems the workers here are really hated by the townspeople.”

“Hm?”

“But I never thought you could do as you please.”

The boss seemed to smile.

“Now we can’t decide on our workload. We don’t have to pay our taxes to the town, but we do have to pay elsewhere.”

“So the red gut in the middle refers to some other greedy fellow, right?”

Kusla looked towards the furnace bellowing in the middle of the plaza as he asked. The head too looked over, and sighed.

“We gained our privileges from the nobles of the southern Imperial country Ariel. Because of this distance, our hard work won’t be seen. They want to get whatever they can.”

“Hm…”

The workers’ steady actions left Kusla mesmerized as he kept walking. He had the urge to hire one or two to be his assistant, but once he saw them cautiously move the giant glass plate away, his mind was filled with questions.

“You’re moving the heavy, fragile glass to the South? That’s rather interesting.”

The spy asked what Kusla was thinking, not out of his own curiosity, but to grasp everything about the land as part of his job.

“We’re not moving the glass South. They have their own glassmakers. The glass made here is to be sold to the folks up North.”

“The North?”

Kusla asked, and they arrived at the hut.

The boss reached his hand, and raised the curtains covering the entrance, inviting them in.

This place appeared to be where the workers would eat, entertain themselves, and sleep. There was just a fire pit in the middle, no partitions anywhere. All the workers were toiling outside, and the place felt barren as they stood beneath the tall ceiling.

The white ash was mixed within the fire in the pit, cackling red.

The boss tossed a few pieces of wood into the fire, and with his eyes, he ordered the dejected Rihito to get some wine.

“There are a few reasons why the people of Yazon view us as an eyesore. Well, it’s not just them. Every few years or so, we’ll migrate to other lands and continue with such work. Every time, we end up incurring the wrath of the towns.”

Increasingly, they were sounding more like alchemists.

“One of the issues is wood. There’s no peat nearby to be harvested, so we do realize we’re causing trouble for the towns.”

“And the other should be who the glass goes to, right?”

Kusla guessed, and Rihito returned with an urn and cups.

The boss received the wine, and indicated for Rihito to return to work. However, Rihito was still worried about Helena, and after a moment of hesitation, he backed down when the boss glare at him, and did not pester about this, and quietly returned to his own workplace. It was a common thing to see in a craftsman’s workplace, where no personal freedom was allowed. The glassmakers lived in such an unstable environment, and there was an added need for them to kill their sense of self, to work for collectivism. The love beyond walls would naturally be forbidden.

Rihito appeared a serious person, and logically, he should understand this well. Perhaps it was out of carelessness, or that he did so because of his serious personality.

It was easy to blame his actions on immaturity, lack of experience, lack of willpower, but to the current Kusla, such an explanation would describe himself personally. Of course, it was all Fenesis’ fault.

Also, Kusla could tell Rihito was working hard to fit the mold of a glassmaker. He could not look down on the latter, and deep within his heart was a rare case of sympathy.

At this point, he already understood how to warn himself, but his heart might be taken by an unbelievable opponent. He was powerless.

And whether he could pursue the other party unhindered would be completely down to luck. A profession one was born in would be difficult to change, and fewer were given complete freedom like alchemists. Sometimes, he relied on his own capabilities, but in fact, it was because of his own good luck that Fenesis remained by his side. Perhaps he could ask, for a craftsman like Rihito, could be give up his job as a glassmaker to pursue Helena? Sooner or later, he would be overwhelmed by hunger, and would be in no mood to talk about love.

Looking at the predicament of others, Kusla’s own position was becoming clear. He was more fortunate than he had assumed, just as Fenesis had said.

So Kusla pondered as he brought the wine Rihito brought to his lips, frowning once he too a sip. It was scarily acrid. Even the stoic looking spy was coughing, nearly dropping his facade.

The smell was scary too, filled with strange herbs nobody whiffed before. This reminded Kusla of the wormwood wine dubbed as the witch’s drink.

“Muu, guess it is too much for our guests…sorry, we don’t have the money to buy grap wine, and since we aren’t on good terms with the town, we can’t get malt. Can only harvest fruits and vanilla, but we can’t really get any good ingredients in this season.”

They appeared to be living a difficult life. It was not easy leading a large group of men outside the walls.

“The nobles seem to be earning lots of money from us. The townspeople probably think we profited as well.”

The shock from the wine seemed to be beyond what the spy could take, as he brought the cup far away from himself. Kusla however tried another mouthful out of curiosity. While it was not something drinkable, the sensation was addicting.

“So you trade the glass to obtain goods from the North?”

Kusla asked, and the boss tilted his head,

“Further North, the availability of fuel will directly impact life and eath. We can’t hope to use our fuel for making glass. In the North, it’s dark all day long, and glass that allows the rare sunlight to shine in are really valued. This place can be considered the frontline that can deliver to the North, and the Southerners love the North’s fur and amber. Thus, we’re in charge of this trade.”

“I see. Now that you mention it, Yazon prospered because it’s the intermediary of the North-South trade. This becomes your dispute.”

The spy interrupted, and the boss nodded.

“On the other lands, we never had such a clear risk-reward conflict with the nearby towns…for the Yazon people, we’re leeches sucking away the town’s trade. It’s no wonder we’re hated.”

For that reason, the townspeople were willing to take arms.

“But this is deep inside a forest. Looking at what you admitted, it’s not like the nobles are sending people to watch over you for a long time.”

“So we can work as we please?”

The boss said, his face showing a lethargic smile.

“Well, don’t you find anything strange about this place?”

“Hm?”

Kusla, who was asked, looked around the room. It clearly resembled an empty tavern that required only wood. The only difference was that there were tools hanging on the walls, allowing them to work in the forest, and the flesh of wild hare and birds hanging on the ceiling beams.

“No women to be seen.”

It was the spy who answered.

“Yes.”

“Hostages?”?

The spy was really perceptive of this, probably due to his profession.

“It’s common for bad things to happen in places you can’t see. As you said, we got hostages. Any sign of improper conduct, my wife and daughter might be hurt. But, it’s not necessarily a bad thing to not have any women around.”

“You won’t have eyes sharper than a wolf around.”

Kusla’s words left the boss guffawing.

“That too. From the townspeople’s view, this isn’t a joke. Women in the forest are really an ominous existence.”

Kusla recalled the term he often heard after arriving in Yazon.

“Witches of the forest?”

“Right. The Yazon townspeople were really looking for reasons to chase us away. The situation isn’t as bad as it is here, but there are similar rumors. They hope for those doing weird work in the forest will vanish. In such situations, the witches story will be the most suitable. I know it’s a little harsh for the younger chaps…but we can’t do anything.”

The boss looked out towards the worksite. While no silhouette could be seen, they immediately understood who he was referring to.

“So the young men can’t spend happy days with the town girls. Misfortune is all that is left.”

“But bringing combustible things to the fireside is a fault too.”

Not all the people here were like Weyland, but not all were completely unattracted to females. The easiest way to prevent a fire would be to stay away from the spark.

The boss shrugged.

“It’s been generations of delivering herbs and other goods to the drug merchants in town, and we’re inseparable at this point. The merchant’s aim are the herbs we pick, and we ask him to intervene for us, to obtain the necessary ingredients from the town. For example, the scissors required to create glass, and the tongs to repair them. If we’re to ask for ourselves, the blacksmiths won’t bother. We aren’t witches, and we can’t settle this with magic. We can’t survive just on forest items. We needed someone to go to the town full of temptations. I thought that fellow would surely understand the importance of this…”

The boss had just denied Rihito’s feelings completely, but he was not a cruel person.

It was due to him having to control his own feelings.

“But it’s thanks to this, we’re informed of the danger. Falling in love isn’t a bad thing.”

If Weyland and Irine were around, they would have laughed, dismissing it as Kusla’s attempt to fend for himself.

“It is dangerous. It caused Miss Helena pain. Surely, lots of courage is required to deliver this letter.”

It was true that when Helena handed the letter over to Kusla, she looked to be devoid of options, and decided after much desperation.

She would regret for eternity if she did not d so. She had the presence of one driven to this state.

Such was one reason why Kusla was convinced.

That pain was something he empathized with.

“It’s just…”

Kusla looked around the room, saying,

“You’re in danger, but it’s a little tough for you to hurry and pack.”

There were still three burning pits outside, and there were a few other huts of similar sizes. Small they might be, those farms were still there. This place was pretty much a village.

“The houses and furnaces can be abandoned. The problem isn’t that we stayed here for a while, but that the other hills aren’t recovered.”

The boss again looked at the letter, frowning.

“But have the townspeople really made this decision?”

His voice hinted at suspicions to this letter.

“The situation feels serious. When I went to the church to pray, the priest did condemn you, to say the least.”

“The priest there…an old fox he is. His aim is to chase all the pagans out fro Yazon, occupy the position of chief priest, and become a bishop. He’s aiming to become the political core of the town, always looking for reasons to attack us.”

“An external enemy is the best way to rally the inside together.”

To achieve outstanding accomplishments as soon as possible, the best method would be to embroil the entire town in a major problem.

“Despite that, we’re on thin ice with the townspeople until now…is this it? I thought we could last the entire time…”

The world always mocked humanity’s arrogance.

And the more cautious one continued to live on, the easier it was to be devoured.

“In that case, we’ll just have to act on priority…?”

The boss muttered to himself, closing his eyes. The frown on his face could clamp a shovel grip, and he groaned before saying,

“Apologies, traveller. Mind if I ask something from you?”

“…Well, I have a dumb look. Can this do?”

“Every craftsman has a dumb face. Only when working do they look good.”

This boss isn’t bad after all, Kusla shrugged, and answered,

“Depends on what it is.”

“I want you to deliver a letter.”

From the boss’ face, one could tell it was no ordinary letter.

Before Kusla’s eyes was a face of much reservation, guts and years.

“I guess it’ll depend on the contents then.”

“The townspeople recognize all of us here. Since it’s such a dangerous situation, we can’t go across the walls. Despite that, the risk to enter and leave the town is too great.”

So it comes, Kusla thought, sighing.

The spy however remained unmoved, probably thinking that it was not too late to weigh the risks and rewards before replying.

Kusla prompted.

“We don’t want danger. But it depends on the reward.”

The boss widened an eye towards Kusla.

“Reward…? I have no money, but lots of glass. You’re a merchant, right? If you sell the glass, you’ll definitely earn lots more money.”

“Just so happened that we’re not lacking in that.”

Hm…so the boss groaned.

However, Kusla did not make things difficult just to spite him

“I never took payment from that little puppy called Helena. Not because I pity your circumstances.”

“Hm?”

“I want to hear about the legendary ash, to starve off the boredom of the journey. Heard that this is the source. Is there any explanation I don’t know of?”

These were the secrets preserved by the sealed group living in the forest. In normal circumstances, they would not be told to outsiders. In this situation, it was the best choice to force a confession when needed.

As Kusla asked this, the boss stared back with his pitch-black eyes. They were a pair of distinct, undaunted eyes, of one living in a forest where anything and everything could be seen as the supernatural.

Naturally, Kusla did not look aside.

So the boss said,

“You’re an alchemist, right?”

Kusla did not panic, and neither was he shocked. On the contrary, while he did not know what was going on, he was delighted to be detected, rather than panicking about being seen through.

“I’ve seen a few like you.”

Kusla was thinking of an excuse to dismiss this claim, but then he felt it was unnecessary.

He scratched his head in a deliberate manner, snorting.

“So this is the reason why you’re so suspicious. You don’t reek of dirt, but you’re strangely calm. It’s the presence of one living by death’s doorstep, the feeling of someone who puts his own obsession before his own life.”

Kusla reeled his neck in, as though indicating that the boss was completely correct.

The spy next to him gave him a reproaching look.

“But,”

The boss said,

“You’re not a spy sent from the town, right?”

He mentioned.

“I have nothing to prove this.”

“No need for that. I know people like you won’t be interested in boring town politics. Also, I thought you’re not a normal person the moment you delivered Miss Helena’s letter. It’s one thing if you owed her a huge favor…but you don’t seem the case. It shows you came here thinking the ash legend is real. This is a folly no craftsman will make.”

It sounded like he was being praised and yet bemeaned. It was a strange feeling, but not a bad one.

“Anyway, I’m really on a journey now, and it’s true I’m here because I believe in the ash legend. After I heard the story of Yazon’s creation, I went to the drug shop, and the puppy said a few words to me. According to her, the ash legend really existed. That’s why you’re seeking the ash, even if you die.”

“That’s my grandfather’s generation! That puts us craftsmen to shame.”

It seemed the boss never intended to hide this fact.

Kusla glanced aside at the spy, who merely shrugged.

“But their efforts were futile. No way such a thing exists.”

“I thought it was a metaphor for a forest fire.”

The boss then glared back at Kusla.

“If it’s just all hearsay, that’s definitely what I’ll think too. But the story my grandfather left behind has nothing to do with a forest fire.”

“So gold and silver can really be grown?”

“Impossible. It’s just a metaphor.”

The boss heartily rejected this.

“Since you want to know about the legend of the ash, I’ll tell you. The purpose of the ash is to create glass. Even now, a common method to lower the melting point of bauxite and improve the quality of the glass is to add ash. Normally, we’re looking for the most effective ash, and our knowledge of herbs come from this. The story left behind by our ancestors mentioned of the best kind of ash. The scenes they saw could only be described as a miracle. It’s said that the glass melted at a temperature close to a summer sunlight. The finished item was just like a crystal. In other words, they created a beautiful, magical glass without having to use fuel. That’s just like alchemy, turning an ordinary egg into priceless gold. The father of my grandfather and their grandparents struck it rich with that, and built the town of Yazon.”

“Huh?”

Kusla asked.

“That town? You built it?”

“Yes. Right now, the townspeople there have the town my grandfather’s generation built, and they’re trying to chase us away. This is what they mean by a thief shouting thief.”

The boss vented his complaints, and continued,

“But our job was supposed to polish the rocks, cut the trees down, and move to the next land, and repeat the same cycle. Our ancestors were chased away from their original lands, arriving North. Right now, the reason why we’re still somehow working here is because after they were chased away, my father’s generation fought in the pagan war, and gained the authority to use this land from the nobles. It’s like returning to the hometown to work.”

There was no freedom within the walls, and outside the walls.

The boss touched his head, letting out a ruffling sound, and sighed again.

“But that authority’s just hanging by a thread, all due to the commotion from before. What happens next is involved in the letter I entrusted you.”

But Kusla was not interested in the political elements. Once he knew about the superstitions and truths about the mysterious ash, he harbored an unspeakable sense of excitement. While the legendary ash was never replicated, it was not important. that town is built from the legendary ash’, There was a difference between ‘lost techniques’ and ‘techniques that never existed’.

So Kusla pondered about this, and the boss harboring his own reality said with some spite.

“The noble strangling us has sent men.”

He sighed, seemingly hoping for Kusla to assist them.

“He says he want the knowledge our grandfathers left behind.”

“…Knowledge? Regarding the legendary ash?”

The excitement was never quelled in the slightest as Kusla asked with a greedy expression. The boss grimaced, saying,

“You’re quite afflicted. But what he wants isn’t the legendary ash, but the side effects.”

Kusla gulped in a self-deprecating manner. The boss seemed bemused as he continued,

“There’s a secret journal with those results, but we don’t need it now. The contents are too weird to be placed here with us. It’ll be trouble if someone comes in and deem us as heretics.”

Kusla’s interest was completely perked.

He raised his chin, prompting the boss to continue, who scratched his head.

“But we can’t just discard knowledge, especially not those our grandfathers worked hard to gather. So since my father’s generation, we left it with the town’s drug merchant. Even if it’s a little weird, they’ll help cover for us. At this point though, we’re in conflict against the town, and we might get killed.”

Muu, he sighed like a cow.

“All our faces are memorized. There’ll be a huge commotion if we just wander into the town.”

Looking around, there were about twenty to thirty glassmakers.

“Despite that, I can’t just ask a wandering passer-by. I don’t know where you come from, alchemist…but I think I know something about you very well.”

“What?”

“Your heart, fool.”

Kusla smiled, for he sensed it was praise.

“The reward’s the contents of that secret journal. You can browse through all you want. Even though it’s recorded in codes, it’s likely you’ll solve it.”

It was an unexpected reward. The spy interrupted,

“Why mention this?”

Alchemists cared only about obtaining precious knowledge, but the spy was different.

So the boss grimaced,

“The wrath of a noble isn’t easy to deal with. If we don’t hand it over to him, he’ll remove our privilege. It’s a definite need for us. Even if the townspeople try to chase us away, we can survive with the special protections. If we lose that, we won’t have to live. I think we should get the journal back before the townspeople start attacking us.”

Kusla lifted his head slightly, and slowly asked,

“Does that secret journal contain anything greater than the ash legend?”

A masochistic desire prompted this question.

However, Kusla had no intention of delivering a dangerous message with any useless knowledge.

“…Now, I don’t know about this. The value depends on the person. But I can be sure this is a prescription no outsider can obtain easily. Our grandfathers’ generation was seeking the ash madly, and this thing was a record they found in this unbelievable pursuit.”

Weyland once said that glassmaking was a boring matter. It meant that to alchemists, there were no techniques that intrigued them.

The knowledge pursued by the glassmakers’ ancestors were left in the hands of the drug merchant, so it was very likely it involved plants before they were burned.

“So what kind of secret journal exactly?”

Hearing Kusla’s question, the bear-like boss bellowed like one,

“An aphrodisiac.”

This man was the one man on this world most unsuited to say these words.

But because of this, Kusla could understand that he was not joking.

“And how? The effects…well, there’s enough proof given how furious the nobles are. I heard that they actually used it since my grandfather’s generation. The battlefields of a noble are either the barren lands, or the bed.”

It was not something they had incomplete knowledge of, nor was it something that could be made through imagination. It was the aphrodisiac created by the people obsessed with ash. If Kusla could obtain this recipe, there would be no reason for him not to cross the walls while holding this dangerous letter.

“I’ve no reason to refuse.”

After obtaining Kusla’s promise, the boss bowed solemnly to him, and summoned Rihito over to write the letter.

From the looks of things, it seemed there were high expectations on Rihito, who in the future might be the leader of these workers. He was able to enter the town and trade with the drug merchant, probably due to him not easily tempted, and also to teach him how to negotiate with the outside world as part of this training.

However, Rihito’s face had some youthful vibe. He wrote the letter, returned it to the boss, and returned to the back to watch.

When the boss handed it over to Kusla, Rihito seemed hesitant to speak.

He was probably thinking, how’s Helena doing.

On the other hand, he was trying his best to kill his sense of self. He knew that the boss expected much of him, and he wanted to respond. In the end, the urge of self-control prevailed, and he never spoke up. He saw Kusla receive the letter, and went back to work.

Seeing Rihito in such a state, the boss said with some pity,

“Once we leave this land, it’ll be years until we return. Given this situation, we might not be able to return within 10 years. As you say, move the combustibles away from the flames, and the fire will die off. If we leave it be, it’ll cool down.”

The boss’ thoughts were conveyed along with the letter, and Kusla did not answer further. While the boss was correct, what if the things vien up were priceless treasures that could never be obtained again?

As he thought about it, Kusla felt, not it was not the case. The only ones capable of seeking their lands of Magdala were the alchemists, and a few rulers, and the bold. Most people in the world knew about compromising.

Kusla never said anything as he turned to leave the glassmakers’ den.

“Guess nobody knows what’s hidden there after all.”

The spy said while they were on their way back.

He probably was not the kind of person who would talk just because he could not stand the silence. The day’s experience probably left him with the urge to do so.

“It’s really a delightful outcome.”

After the horse neighed thrice, the spy said,

“About the aphrodisiac?”

“No. It’s about the ash.”

It definitely was not a metaphor for a forest fire, but something physical that could be touched.

The glass production was often affected by the fuel amount, and reducing the consumption was an important knowledge for the various craftsmen.

There existed once kind of ash that could generate a melting point equivalent to the sun, the completion of the glass similar to a crystal. It’s to the point of finding a way to turn lead into gold, the ultimate form of alchemy. It was no wonder why the grandfather’s generation wanted it at all costs.

This fact too informed him of something else.

The glassmakers did not discover the ash themselves. Some ‘person’ gave the ash to the glassmakers. When Kusla affirmed this with the boss, the latter answered,

“Yes. It’s said that the ash was given to our ancestors by strange people of unknown origins, while Yazon was still a settlement before becoming a town. As for whether it came from the Heavens, nobody knows.”

There was nothing to be surprised. Kusla’s heart was etching out a heavy silhouette.

“Those people said that it’s ash that grows gold and silver. From what my grandfather’s generation said, they probably came from the desert.”

People with the same deformities as Fenesis came from the desert of the Far East.

At the same time, those were the people the inquisitor Korad Abria was looking for, the people who had the knowledge that could fight the dragons.

“Do you think the inquisitor from before referred to the ash in his messages?”

The spy asked. After some silence, Kusla nodded.

“You have a different thought?”

Kusla asked, and the spy did not say anything.

While Kusla felt the spy was being professional, the latter answered,

“I feel the story of the ash is too ridiculous.”

So it seemed, and Kusla agreed.

“You don’t think so regarding the aphrodisiac?”

Any man would want it, or even women.

In fact, there were many in the markets sold as aphrodisiacs. However, as for whether they were really effective, the answer remained unclear.

“Because it really exists.”

The spy affirmed.

“I saw it used on others a few times.”

“…It’s all a power struggle in the palace, right? Those people can get in bed even with those they hate.”

Such words had the spy staring directly at Kusla’s face. He did not appear to be trying to convince, but was showing the look of one who wanted to convey what he saw.

“That night was a burning one. I saw those who utterly despised each other somehow not resisting, and even succumbing when when drugged. It didn’t seem like anything else. Their hearts were resisting, but the other places were at the beck and call. It’s such a strange scene, basically a spell.”

The spy did not appear to be lying, and besides, he had no reason to.

Surely this spy was hidden between the gaps of the wall, and really saw the witch appear.

“And if someone can really manipulate that magic freely, it’s possible to turn the land into gold then…an aphrodisiac might be scarier, in terms of danger.”

A heart of one in love is a heart confused.

A political decision, even affected by a moment of madness, would result in grave consequences.

“Also, there’s the reason why the glassmakers were forced to hand over the aphrodisiac recipe.”

“Hm?”

“Basically, a political marriage is done for two reasons.”

The spy’s eyes were filled with a professional demeanor as he stared forward.

“It’s either for an alliance, or a reconciliation.”

“You mean the nobles strangling the workers…are trying to force their way through one option?”

“While the chaos is at its peak, yes.”

Kusla narrowed his eyes.

“Isn’t it important to do this due to the chaos?”

The country requiring the aphrodisiac was the grand noble of the Imperial Country Ariel, south of Latria. It was no small country, its relationship with the Knights ambiguous, and remained on the sidelines in this war.

By logical deduction, the country might need the drugs to change the balance of power. Even as an observer, it could not remain completely unscathed.

And thus, those observers were often doubted and scoffed.

“I hope I’m just thinking too much…”

Saying that, the spy went back into deep thought.

Kusla glanced aside, and shrugged. He had different interests from the spy. When the boss mentioned their relationship with the town, it was the spy who showed interest.

Kusla was more concerned about the message Abria left behind. He did not think it referred to the aphrodisiac. The spy might find the aphrodisiac more realistic, and it was easy for him to imagine the potent threat. In a certain sense however, it was a known item.

Yet the story of the ash was utterly ridiculous. If it was reality, it would bring joy that would topple the sanity of the world. Most importantly, what got Abria’s confidence might not be simple knowledge. Surely it was something left behind by the Ancients.

Also, the place Abria signed at was not directed at the aphrodisiac, but the legend…

There was the legend of the angel descended from sun, summoning the sun to the land, and after scattering ash, silver and gold grew. If there was a basis for even one element, the world structure would change.

Of course, there were still doubts.

It took one, or even two generations of craftsmen to seek the closest type of ash. How much did they seek it painstakingly? Looking at how they had a secret journal containing the production of the aphrodisiac, one could deduce it to be a daunting task.

And nobody found it.

In that case, could it be that Abria’s signature might be part of his job, and the message was elsewhere?

So Kusla kept pondering, but his basic directive did not change.

He was to hand over the boss’ letter to the drug merchant, obtain the ?secret journal, check the contents, and return it to the glassmakers. He would not lose anything if the townspeople did not notice, and two, he could obtain the precious method of making the aphrodisiac. As for what happened to the glassmakers, that was none of Kusla’s business.

So he thought, and at the same moment, he thought of Rihito, who was starting to get used to killing his sense of self, and Helena, who handed the letter to him without fearing her execution. It was their business, and in a moment, he discarded the thought.

After that, the spy and Kusla continued to return home without saying a word.

“So are you going to retrieve that secret journal?”

While they were leaving the forest before sunset, it was completely dark by the time they entered town. They assumed they would be questioned when they entered town, but in the chaos, there were the mercenaries, the Knights, and the greedy merchants moving through. The crowds never subsided, and they never stood out.

“What’s the name of the owner? This isn’t something that can be discussed with the apprentices. I don’t want to be mistaken.”

“The glassmakers mentioned him as Roze. I saw the name when looking through the catalogue of big names in the registry. Doesn’t look like he has an apprentice.”

“Roze? Quite the elegant name.”

“If we trace the name back, maybe his ancestors were pagans who settled down here.”

Even if the pagans had discarded their distinct dark robes and rugged staffs, they would surely have traces of their past remaining.

“Do I need to come along?”

Unexpectedly, the spy could joke.

“No need.”

The spy chuckled, and both went their separate ways quietly at a cross-junction.

The taverns and inns were opened, befitting of a town linking the North to the South, where travelers were many. Despite that, while the fuel prices skyrocketed, most could only rely on animal fat lamps to do business. Only the posh looking inns and buildings used wood as fuel.

It was a moonless night, and the dim lights of animal fat could not clear the darkness completely, the scenery remained like a dream. The passers-by moved along quietly, fearing their lights were to be snuffed out. Even the mercenaries were stifling their laughter. It seemed they were trying to endure. This was a suitable mood for him to obtain the witchcraft knowledge called an aphrodisiac.

The doors of the drug shop were already closed, but there was still some dim light shining on the house of the 3rd floor. It would be troublesome if Kusla was spotted, so he went down the alley by the side, and went to the back. The surroundings were silent, and only a cat hopped past their street. Kusla knocked on the back door of the drug merchant without hesitation. One might think he was a beggar, so he kept knocking on the door. As long as the knocking remained frantic, the owner would show up, knowing it was a visitor.

“…”

As he expected, there was a slit opened on the 3rd floor window.

He might have assumed he would not be spotted, but the alchemist who toiled night and day had eyes sharp enough to see the scowling face.

A pudgy bearded round face, definitely not Helena.

“I was tasked to deliver a letter.”

Kusla looked back at the window, hushing his voice as low as possible. The owner Roze seemed a little confused.

“From someone of much interest to you.”

Then, he waved the glass fragment he retrieved from the glassmakers’ workplace.

Roze’s face immediately changed, and he nodded, closing the door.

Soon after, the peephole of the back door opened.

“My apologies for visiting late at night. I heard you were at a meeting all day. It seemed I shouldn’t remain for long.”

“Y-you are? I…never saw you in town. You brought a letter?”

“I’m a traveler. This isn’t really a journey to be talked about…but I was asked by the craftsmen in the forest. I have no interest in solving the town’s fuel problems, just that I have my own interest now.”

The eyes staring through the peephole were sizing up Kusla sternly, trying to maintain some dignity, but there was no malice. In any case, he was the father of that puppy-like Helena, so this should be expected.

“Is that so…then, the letter for me…”

“I’m not an errand. I have a few things to tell you.”

Kusla had no intention of getting involved with the troublesome town politics just because he got spotted.

“…Understood.”

Roze closed the peephole, and unlocked the door.

The door opened, and there appeared a plump, short middle-aged man.

Roze raised the torch at the door, and went to the shop.

“You’re doing well, using honey wax and all.”

Kusla commented as he saw the torch light in Roze’s hand.

“The smoke and smell from animal wax is way too stinging, unsuited for my shop. It’s expensive, but I have no choice.”

“I see.”

Everything was quiet in this night visit, and even the scent in the shop was duller than it was in the day.

Perhaps the spirits residing in the herbs were all in dreamland.

“This is a letter from the glassmakers boss.”

Roze received the letter from Kusla, his lips quivering with his mouth.

“I just received a troublesome letter from a troublesome fellow.”

He noted sarcastically, and pouted. He looked timid, but had a serious personality, and was most suited to run a shop in this town. The trust his peers had for him was great.

“I know this town has some major grudges against the glassmakers because of the fuel. I understand your urge not to interest with them as much as possible, but this doesn’t seem to be the only problem. Since they can’t enter the walls, I did so for them.”

Kusla said, and Roze blinked his eyes, looking back incredulously. His eyes were swimming, never focused, probably because he could not determine where Kusla came from.

“I have some relations with the Knights, and right now, I’m living at their inn due to this. But I’m not part of the Knights. I’m here from Nilberk, and what I do is for you to help me, and for me to help you trade.”

Such words caused Roze to somewhat understand. In times of war, various people would wander to other lands through the assistance of authority.

Roze confessed,

“…The situation had been deteriorating ever since the war started. If I tried contacting those people, rumors would be that I’m one of them…I’ll be in trouble.”

“Looks that way. The wall’s quite troublesome.”

“Thank you for delivering the letter and their words. Lots of problems can be solved if they can talk.”

Such words were truly befitting a kind-hearted man.

But Kusla did not continue with the idle chat, and prompted Roze to open the letter.

“I don’t oppose your conviction, but the changes in this world will always toy the fates of many. The craftsmen are in danger of losing their privilege, and they’re asking you for help.”

“Eh? But…is there anything I can help? I can’t even protect their future generations anymore. The most I can do is to delay the council meeting…”

It appeared that in the council meeting, he played the role of a good citizen protecting the town, while trying his best to protect the glassmakers. The powerlessness and self-deprecation on his smile showed that his hard work was for naught.

“Of course, I’m not asking you to convince the townspeople. They say they want the secret journal their ancestors left behind.”

“Journal? That…ah?”

While opening the letter, Roze covered his mouth without thinking.

“I heard this shop contains that secret journal. I was requested to take it back.”

Kusla looked as though he did not mind as he stared intently at Roze. If the latter looked downcast or tried to hide something, Kusla would just call him out.

So Kusla mentally prepared himself, but Roze merely reread the letter a few times, as though slowly absorbing the contents as he closed his eyes.

“I understand.”

He answered without hesitation.

“You’re not refusing?”

Kusla asked, and Roze widened his eyes, smiling awkwardly.

“I feel that knowledge should be left for those who need it. Since they need it, I should hand it over to them. Besides, that secret journal was something their ancestors had discovered.”

“Thank goodness I don’t have to play the questioning game of hand it over.”

“Haha…they did take care of me. I’ll do whatever I can. So…the earlier I can hand it to you, the better.”

“Depends on how patient the townspeople are.”

Roze smiled awkwardly, and nodded.

“But is there enough time for me to hand the secret journal to time? I don’t want to end up being murdered in the forest.”

Kusla said, and Roze sighed weakly.

“Well…I can’t be sure, but I guess it’ll take a few days. The anger of the townspeople is really…well, there’s a realistic chance of them just attacking. Right now however, it’s not the unified view of the town.”

“Hm.”

“The angriest right now is the blacksmith guild that needs the fuel, and the merchants whose livelihoods depend on them. Also, we have to consider the Knights. The glassmakers are protected by the nobles, and the noble in Ariel is a powerful one. Nobody knows what the Knights will do if we rise up to challenge that noble’s authority.”

The Imperial Kingdom of Ariel had remained neutral in this war, and to agitate it carelessly might result in more enemies, a situation the Knights?? would like to avoid.

“But the fuel prices of the town is continuing to rise, and to the people within the walls, it’s still a disaster. It’ll take a while until Spring becomes warmer. Perhaps once they rationalize everything, they’ll start war quickly.”

At this point, it seemed a few guilds and the priest greedy for political powers were stoking the flames. Despite that, the situation remained so volatile. Once there was a proper reason involving the fate of the town, the Knights could no longer stay uninvolved.

“Also, the way the townspeople blame the glassmakers is similar to them looking for sheep to be offered as sacrifices. Because of this chaos, we have many times more people arriving in this town, and they bought various things. The prices were rising really quickly. The glassmakers did use up lots of wood, but it’s not all their fault. It’s because the townspeople already thought of them as an eyesore, and blamed everything on them. People do find reasons quickly in such moments, surprisingly smart, I might say.”

Back in the church, the glassmakers were called the fangs of the witch. It seemed there were scuffles for a long time.

However, it seemed there was no just reason back then, just that the oppressors wanted to vent their feelings, and the glassmakers were the perfect choice. It seemed they were forced into this role countless times.

Kusla had long heard of such treatment in Fenesis’ story.

“I know this is unreasonable to the glassmakers, along with the hardships they suffered through…but such is the way of the world. The world within the walls and the world outside are different, unable to forgive. It’s a pity.”

Kusla shrugged, and the owner shook his head,

“Anyway, do you mind waiting? The secret journal is deep within my warehouse.”

“Fine.”

Kusla intended to loiter around in the shop when he answered, but Roze left with the torch, so he could only go along.

This shop was like others in the profession, the goods stacked up high.

The crates on both sides were so high, and there was just enough space for the owner Roze not to bump his belly. The crates contained herbs or spices.

Kusla did not know where the items were, so he kept moving cautiously.

Suddenly, he lifted his head, and saw the legs of a girl on the stairs leading to the second floor. It should be Helena. It was she who sent Kusla to the glassmakers, probably concerned about his visit.

“Do you know what the secret journal it is?”

The moment Roze asked, they passed the stairs, and the owner was rummaging for things at the warehouse facing the back alley.

It was a question that required little thought, but Kusla was peeved to think.

“I do.”

Roze’s hands never stopped. Through his back, it seemed he was not particularly concerned.

“Since you’re the one the boss entrusted with the letter, I won’t have to worry about you abusing this…”

Then, he suddenly turned around.

“You don’t seem like one who can be moved by money. Probably have the secret journal as a reward.”

Kusla shrugged, basically affirming it.

“Or is it to say, that given your relationship with the Knights, you’re an alchemist?”

Seriously, it was pointless to disguise himself. Any observant fellow would have seen through him. Or was it that the armor of this ‘uppity’ alchemist was sticking too much on him, that he was a lost cause?”

“As a trader myself, I do see such people. I can tell from the disposition. Also, I heard that some great alchemist in Nilberk created an amazing weapon. The Knights would always press on with the initiative whenever things are going smoothly. So they hired many people like you to be dispatched everywhere.”

Saying that, Roze chuckled.

“Have you seen that great alchemist? Is he some old man with a white beard?”

He’s standing in front of you, but Kusla never said those words out loud. It seemed the contributions of the dragons were widely known, but this ended up being a blind spot. Nobody would have expected the person himself to be wandering around here.

“Which country did that story calm from?”

Kusla had no interest in mortal praise.

And faced with his callousness, Roze merely laughed.

“Well, I’ve been investigating these little things because I want to be a competent alchemist. Do you know something of the legendary ash?”

Given the common thread that was the glassmakers, Roze might tell Kusla something he would keep mum of. However, the latter’s reply left Kusla dumbfounded.

“A legend is just a legend.”

“I heard that the generations of glassmakers before had been trying to find it.”

“The same can be said of my ancestors.”

Like the boss, Roze seemed to have deemed his ancestors foolish for seeking that legend.

“I heard they expended all methods, and basically burned all the plants they could. Our fortunes were used up, and the shop nearly closed. Despite that, they never found it. In other words, there’s no such thing.”

It was a reaction of common sense.

“Then what about the genesis of this town?”

“The story of the desert people who arrived and gave the ash to our ancestors? When we talk about such stories, we always start with ‘this is the story narrated those who came from the eternally frozen lands’, so I guess it’s about the same. They brought the funds to build the town, and back then, glass itself was rare, so that’s why it’s talked off as a miracle. Once the people found that the glassmakers would cut down the forest, they’ll chase them out of town. This is then the legend made up to cover up their guilt, so I think...”

His explanation was extremely close to reality, and not unreasonable in any way.

Was the legend just a fictitious story?

“I guess I really have to hand it to you, alchemist, for believing such a story…but it’s a must for the young men hoping to make a breakthrough. So, yes, I’ll be proud to be elevating one such young man.”

“What do you mean?”

“With the secret journal, you can become a top rate alchemist. This is what I mean.”

Roze said as he moved the crates aside, removing the urns, and scattered the items aside as he went deep into the warehouse.

Looking at the back, Kusla however was not angered

They lived in different worlds, and what they would notice, what they would be interested in, would be miles apart.

Long was he used to mockeries of his pursuit for the baseless, both in expressions and attitude. Roze’s kindness was one exception by itself.

“Just to ask, have you tried the effects yet?”

Faced with this question, Roze paused a few moments before answering, probably intentionally.

“No. Only the glassmakers know how to brew it…and more importantly, no matter the context, manipulating the hearts of men is a cardinal sin.”

“I see this shop does sell herbs that appeases the anger of men, and relieves their gloom.”

Kusla intentionally asked to stump the owner, who answered without any guilt.

“Those are all medication relating to health. I don’t think God will blame those who want to live on healthy.”

“So fulfilling a demented wish has something to do with maintaining a healthy life?”

The master stood up, and turned to Kusla.

“And when that wish is fulfilled, can the healthy heart finally regain calm?”

Kusla stared right at the owner’s eyes, and after a smile, he shook his head.

“No, the problem still remains. It might worsen even.”

He recalled Fenesis. The closer both of them were, the more restless his heart was, far from calm.

The owner nodded, as though wanting to partake in Kusla’s guilt.

“Now you should understand why in weddings, God’s blessings are to be received.”

“Without the help of God, the couples most likely won’t be happy after all?”?”

“Just something to prove that most rituals aren’t pretentious and meaningless.”

Kusla shrugged.

“But…”

The owner said again,

“This can be deemed a poison, but depending on the use, can also be used as a proper medicine. Or it could add to the list of sins.”

What is he saying? So Kusla wondered, and the owner had a book in his hand.

“This is the secret journal.”

It was a little book bound together by parchment.

“Leave it to me.”

Kusla said as he naturally reached out.

The owner never moved.

“I have a request.”

“…Well, I never expected you to just hand it over to me.”

Kusla said spitefully, and the owner showed a crooked smile, as though confessing his sins,

“I have nobody else to ask.”

First it was Helena, then the boss, and then the owner of the drug store.

But Kusla could understand. The people in this town, along with those relying on the town, were living every day with much restraint. They were all waiting for the moment, while the chaos reigned, while the conflicts remained. They kept enduring, hoping to change this annoying situation, or hoping to catch their breath.

The owner did not hand the book over, and instead approached Kusla. Typically, the latter would be wary to the point of not wanting him to be this closer. The only one he allowed to be that close was a pure white girl.

But after seeing the owner in agony, he found no reason to backtrack.

“O’ alchemist…”

The way the owner beckoned for Kusla was like a prayer to God in the church.

Perhaps he was really intending to confess his sins.

Without making a voice, he said, basically mouthing,

“Can you fool my daughter?”

He put the book in Kusla’s hands.

“With this medicine.”

It seemed he realized Helena was eavesdropping

“Why is that?”

“My daughter is smitten with the glassmaker.”

Kusla’s eyes drifted to the ceiling, but not out of surprise. He could imagine that at this point, beyond the ceiling, there was a girl sticking her ear to the floor. She could not disguise her affection well after all.

“But nothing good will come out of this love. As a father, I’m unwilling to accept.”

“So, poison?”

The owner groaned, and corrected himself.

“Medicine.”

How an item is viewed will depend on the person, but Kusla understood those feelings.

“But what do I do? This is a medicine that will cause people to fall in love.”

The owner looked at Kusla, looking as though he was deciding to commit a sin.

“Depending on the purpose, medicine can become poison. Use it on her. You can then explain that the glassmakers used this medicine to enchant her, and she should believe you.”

A medicine that would cause others to fall in love had an effect of making others fall in love with oneself, and there was a third purpose.

Such was proof of skill and application.

The medicine that could cause her to fall in love with someone could also be used to erase her love for someone else.

The trick was to instill the thought that her feelings were due to the medicine.

“It will be a good chance to experiment for you.”

“……”

Kusla flipped through the secret journal, and realized that it was all codes. There were few of such codes however, and it would not be difficult to solve it.

Then, there was a hushed, feeble voice,?

“Nothing good will come out of my daughter’s love. You might think I can just leave her be, but I guess you know what I’m really worried about.”

At this moment, Kusla understood. Helena’s father, Roze, already knew that Kusla went to deliver the letter. He noticed that it disappeared, so someone took it. He never expected his own daughter to do it, and was naturally anxious.

It was no wonder then he was so worried, terrified of what folly his own daughter would commit.

A simple talk of logic would in no way convince the person that her love was madness. Kusla himself understood this well.

“But this medicine might kill.”

“So will love.”

Roze, who had the appearance of a swine, just said a line unbefitting his appearance.

But on this world, some words sound so realistic because of that.

“I was like this when my wife went ahead before me. Right now, I’m still alive because of my daughter Helena.”

Kusla let out a little sigh.

On this world, it is a pain to live on without any hope.

The notion of living for those important to them... would become a sturdy, powerful shield.

“Also, there’s a reason why the ancestors left behind this secret journal.”

“Reason?”

The owner nodded back at Kusla.

“For such moments. When people look so obsessed that they can’t set their hearts aside, this medicine will cause people to think that their obsession can be influenced by such medicine.”

“…”

Kusla was flabbergasted as he stared back at Roze, and gritted his teeth in bitterness.

If the side product discovered by the zealous ones seeking their dreams was this secret journal, that would be overly ironic.

According to Roze, his ancestors were so obsessed with the legend of the ash, that his family fortunes were on the brink. Thus it was taught that the secret journal was the result of their hard work, a fine medicine to curb addiction.

It was an overly bitter, potent medicine to alchemists, those who sought the metal called Orichalcum.

But Roze suddenly looked terrified.

“Or…am I not the normal one?”

God’s kind sheep would always remember the kindness they should have, and His teachings, all to abide by the proper way of life. It was this that the owner was in pain. He knew very well how cruel an act it would be to Helena.

In this sense, he had some resemblance to the alchemists.

But the difference was that he still had the desire to act a mind citizen, while Kusla himself had been dubbed the moniker of ‘interest’.

“Two things first.”

Kusla stared at Roze, and continued,

“That child is a lot smarter than you imagine.”

It was partly out of self-deprecation, but these were also words he learned from experience.

“Another thing. I do have lots of interest in this medicine…but I’m not one with the witches. I know the way to use it is different from usual. Are you sure you want me to use it? She’s still your daughter after all.”

Stomach medication had to be swallowed, and wound medicine has to be applied directly. An aphrodisiac would have to be used in an exceptionally ‘sensitive’ area.

Roze looked to be in utter anguish, as though his body was about to be snapped.

He was blinded by his worry for his own daughter.

“…I don’t want to hear such words from an alchemist.”

“I guess so.”

Kusla punched at the owner chest. The latter stumbled back.

“I’ll take this. I’ll just follow through with the promise of delivering it to the glassmakers.”

He spoke at normal speaking volume, wanting to ensure that Helena, who was most likely eavesdropping on them, would be able to hear

Roze remained rooted, unable to say anything.

Kusla turned away without hesitation, and left the shop.

The night skies remained dark under the clouds. It would be foolish for him to be harassed by the patrolling guards, so he hastened his steps in the coal-like darkness.

The outside air was so frigid, his body was being ripped to shreds, but the anxiety and groans swirling in his mind made the former feel more comfortable.

Roze’s request was to inject a highly bitter medicine. If one could manipulate even the irrational that is love, then the convictions that were not to be compromised would crumble from just a single medicine.

The thought alone was enough to cause him goosebumps.

What if one day, a single medicine would thoroughly affect his passion, the land of Magdala?

It would not involve any of one’s own will, as though he was forced to dress as a blacksmith.

Such an imagination was completely different from the threat of death when a dagger was pointed at him.

At the same time, he understood that it was for this reason, the medicine was so terrifying, and effective.

This was the reason why Roze said those words, for he had somewhat seen the ending

He returned to the inn, saw the lights were already out, and heaved a sigh of relief. After a long journey, the trio had finally gone to sleep.

Kusla reached behind himself to close the door, and meandered through the darkness like a catfish.

Then, he stared at Fenesis, whose silhouette remained visible even in the darkness.

One day, they will die, and henceforth, such a possibility still remained.

It was not a bad preposition to die together, but there was a likelihood either would hope for the other to keep living. In slightly unlucky times, there would be a high likelihood of him having to say, ‘leave me behind, go’.

When that time comes, this aphrodisiac, which could twist the hearts of men, would surely be importantly. The more he understands of this medicine, the more he could be prepared for the situation that would suddenly arrive. In that case, Roze’s request would have a different purpose.

It was not to sweep aside the pain of his daughter falling in a fruitless love, nor was it to alleviate his anxiety because of his daughter’s actions.

It would have been a precious experiment.

An aphrodisiac is a potent drug. As far as most knew, it was made from countless poisonous plants, so even when the concoction was perfect, any initial testing would be left to fate. One could try with dogs or pigs, but just as iron is never going to be copper, the effects on humans would change.

The effects of the poison or drug would depend on the physique. Kusla learned about this while researching on poisons.

In other words, if he used it on Helena, he would be able to do so confident if used on Fenesis, who had a similar physique. The effects would be as expected, but most importantly, he could not let her die.

It had been a while since he heard the voice of ‘interest’, which was echoing in his mind at this point.

The voice was saying that everything and anything was just a mean for his aims. The thoughts, the life of the girl he just so happened to know was merely a tool. Also, he was requested to use it on someone’s daughter, and in a certain sense, he was helping.

It was easy for him to give up being human for his objectives. Such was an inhumane alchemist.

But, Kusla thought.

If he affirmed the effects of the medicine, he would be killing himself. Would his beliefs be something that would be easily crushed by medicine?

Such a notion was too much of a bitter pill to swallow, and it harkened some immature vexation.

More so, loneliness.

He gently caressed Fenesis’ cheeks. The defenseless cat was a little itchy, but then made a slight snore.

Such feelings would be affected by the medicine.

He had a feeling that the moment he believed this, he would be caught in a path of no return.

But looking away from the truth would not mean that it would disappear completely. Even if he purged the memory of the aphrodisiac from his mind, it did not mean it would disappear.

There was a high likelihood of the legendary ash being just a legend.

But the aphrodisiac did truly exist.

Should he take action, or not?

Kusla left Fenesis’ bedside, and laid down at his own sleeping mat, cursing himself quietly.

Act 4

“Never thought there would actually be one…”

The book left behind at Kazan had an ominous vibe due to its colors, but this secret journal seemed to be just an old parchment under the morning sun.

Once Irine learned of the contents from Kusla, she looked hesitant, like a stray dog seeing a piece of meat on the road.

“I heard that with this, you can manipulate feelings however you wish.”

Kusla deliberately taunted, and saw Irine gulp.

Next to her, Fenesis was obviously looking conflicted.

“Manipulating the hearts of men is against God’s Will.”

Truly these were words befitting her.

“And wine does the same. Is drinking wine okay then?”

He tried to stump Fenesis like he did to Roze, who reeled her chin in, refuting,

“…If inducing others into a stupor is to eavesdrop, I suppose that is inappropriate.”

I meant that the matter of right and wrong would depend on the user’s mentality. While an aphrodisiac is meant to steal someone else’s heart, there are people who were righteous thieves.

Roze’s request lingered in Kusla’s mind, and so he was nodding away. He recovered to find Fenesis staring back at himself, seemingly dumbfounded there.

“But aren’t there lots of elixirs with such effects? What are they like actually~?”

The sex maniac Weyland interrupted at this moment.

“Who knows? The contents inside are all faded, and in codes. Seems like the glassmakers have the key to solve it, but it looks like we can do it too. Want to give it a go?”

Kusla suggested, and Fenesis looked displeased, while Irine looked a little conflicted.

“This is a medicine of much sin~.”

On the other hand, Weyland looked really gleeful, probably imagining how to use it.

If only I can be an imbecile like him now, so Kusla thought.

“But I lost some interest.”

Kusla said, as though saying it to himself, unwilling to recall the events of the previous night.

“Hm? Ahh, unexpectedly, you’re talking about true love there, Kusla~.”

Such words were too close to the truth, that they were not teasing in any way.

And Kusla really had no interest.

“I sought out the boss because I thought there would be knowledge left behind by the Ancients. This aphrodisiac isn’t one.”

“The glassmakers haven’t given the feeling that they’re hiding anything else~”

“In some way, their poverty showed their innocence. If they really found the legendary ash, logically, they would be using it already. The main reason for their conflict with the town is money, so if they could have raised money without destroying too much of the forest, this wouldn’t be much of an issue.”

“That’s true~..”

Weyland answered, and leaned on the wall with his arms folded.

“So, what do you intend to do next~?”

The conversation with Roze the previous night flashed by Kusla’s mind, but he tried his best to remain calm, answering,

“Continue investigating the legendary ash. Hand this over to the glassmakers, and hear from them again. Maybe there might be some hints they haven’t figured out.”

He never mentioned what Roze requested from him.

“Also, the spy asked to make a copy of the secret journal. Help me out here.”

Fenesis, who had been watching the secret journal like it was some evil book, looked back to Kusla when he called out to her.

“Write out a copy of the book.”

“Eh, ah, yes…but.”

“It’s to be handed to Alzen.”

Once he told her that, she obviously looked relieved. Once he realized the reason for this change, Kusla himself felt awkward, a rarity from him, and he then asked to shake off the feeling,

“What about you?”

“I want to investigate more about this town’s legends. Agree with what you said. We’ll lose interest~.”

“Ah! Th-then I’ll do so too…”

Irine agreed in a panic, muttering,

“If I see the medical book, I might turn weird…”

Irine’s world would seemingly be twisted. Kusla understood that feeling well.

He nodded, looked out of the window, and let out a little sigh.

Weyland and Irine went out, Fenesis prepared her writing materials, and at this moment, a spy visited him. He came to ask about the investigations of the secret journal. When Kusla informed him that they had successfully procured it, and would be writing a copy, he looked a little excited.

Also, what Kusla heard from the drug merchant Roze about when the people at the town council intended to attack the glassmakers was similar to what the spy had heard. There were divided opinions, and there were some major guilds opposed to the blacksmith guild, some who hoped to maintain the high fuel prices.

But if the prices continued to inflate, the town, which mainly ran on trade, would see its inns and taverns affected, their survivals in question

When would the breaking point happen? Honestly told, nobody knew.

All they knew well was that if the prices kept inflating, there would be no reconciliation.

“We have to finish by today. Ready?”

“Yes.”

On the desk were parchments, ink, quill pens, a shaver to erase wrong words, and nails to fasten and straighten the parchments on the table, pumice to soften the parchments, and spare scripts for test writing.

They were lined up neatly. Surely Fenesis might have been trained rigorously at the monastery.

“Guess the blacksmith attire doesn’t make you serious enough.”

Fenesis, seated on the chair as a craftsman, was dressed like a boy. Anyone looking at her would feel uneasy.

“Want to wear a habit instead?”

But Fenesis looked down at her own attire, before looking at Kusla, asking,

“Do you prefer…that I wear that instead?”

Kusla realized that he said too much.

“Just that I have a different feeling, nothing about whether I like it or not.”

He bluffed his way through, but inside, he was really thinking that he did not dislike anything she wore.

“Since you did copy work before, I guess there shouldn’t be any problems. Any picture however, don’t write down based on your own interpretation. If you end up encountering something different from your own impression, ask me. If there are words you can’t read well, ask. Don’t be afraid to ask. The most important thing about copying is–”

“Accuracy? I know that...”

Fenesis indicated without any pretentious arrogance.

She, always with the serious personality to begin with, probably was confident in such work.

“…Yes.”

Fenesis beamed, and nodded.

Kusla sat next to her, put the book in the middle, and flipped it open. After being locked in the warehouse for years, the book had the scent of poison and ferment.

The contents involved the recipe of a love potion, which would captivate the heart of a person immediately.

But there was something more to it.

“What is it?”

As he wondered about it, Fenesis looked up in surprise at him. It seemed Kusla had been staring at her for far too long.

Ah, so she blurted out in confusion, and tried rubbing her face. She had mis-assumed that there was something on her face, or that the mischievous Kusla had stuck something on her face

“I’ve been thinking. Even though we’re talking about a love potion, you’re really calm.”

A brief explanation later, Fenesis looked skeptical, but sighed in bewilderment.

“It is just a knowledge. And I will not be captivated by such medicine.”

Kusla knew this self-confidence was completely baseless, and in fact, a little prank would leave her scampering like a headless mosquito.

But he did not want to make a slight dig at her.

For her words brought him relief.

“I guess so.”

This medicine could change certain important things to a person.

Perhaps the ones so obsessed with the ash never ruined their family business because of this medicine.

“Let’s begin.”

So both of them began to work.

Simply put, the code was like the mesh of a sieve.

Depending on the size of the mesh, one could infer to whom the secrets were to be conveyed to, and whom not to be conveyed to.

From this particular explanation, it seemed the mesh of the secret journal was really big.

The codes used were written with constellation signs in place of medicine and effects, and the symbolic numbers listed in the Bible. Such codes were not truly intending to hide from the world, and it did not matter whether an observant one would notice. Those who had the basic knowledge could somewhat imagine what the ingredients, while anything they knew not of could be written as codes.

Ever since she arrived at Kusla’s workshop, the number of alchemy books Fenesis read had increased, so even she could understand the coded contents.

“It’s not like they intended to hide the contents huh?”

They were somehow halfway done before noon. In that case, there was no need to resist the pain on the hands and the concentration. If they had forced the issue too much, they would end up making many mistakes.

Fenesis rubbed her right hand with her left, and Kusla silently grabbed the right hand, holding it down as he answered.

“It might be related to the times.”

“…Times?”

Fenesis asked staring at Kusla’s hand that was grabbing hers, feeling as though it was completely unbelievable.

“When they were making this medicine, this town was still completely involved with pagan beliefs. If the war was going back then, maybe the correct God’s teachings will lose to the pagans the next day. There’s such danger around, so what do you think will happen next? A love potion isn’t worth much in such moments.”

“…That is true.”

“And also…”

Kusla held down Fenesis’ soft, tender hand that was colder than he thought, quipping,

“In times of danger, love can burn more intensely. So much so that a potion isn’t needed.”

Most epics were like this, and love between people of different backgrounds mostly started with a last-minute rescue, or a rescue by someone else. It was probably because most had their hearts greatly rattled, unable to make the right decisions.

“…I feel the same.”

But strangely, it sounded bittersweet coming from Fenesis.

Ever since he met Fenesis there were times of him making the wrong decisions, and it was to be expected that they nearly died many times. In such times, there were moments of him reaching out to Fenesis, and some moments of her reaching out to him.

“And that’s why the little lady is really happy.”

Kusla diverted from the topic, and hinted that they were not the case.

Unhappiness appeared on Fenesis’ face, but she was a little curious about Helena too.

“It is…a love letter with her life on the line, right?”

Even Fenesis realized how reckless that letter was.

“Yes.”

Though her father Roze was worried about the glassmakers, he considered his own safety, and did not risk sending the letter over the walls, and reported to him. Kusla could understand why Roze did not do so. The latter was not heartless, but simply reacted as expected.

It was Helena who made the unexpected move, and delivered the letter to Kusla who so happened to wander into the shop.

It was not that she lacked a sense of danger because of her age, but that for her, there was nothing more important than delivering the letter. The world might say she was having tunnel-vision due to her innocence, but from this viewpoint, alchemists could be described as utterly immature.

“Erm.”

Fenesis spoke.

“What is it?”

“How is the craftsman, the one she likes?”

Kusla was taken aback, for he was surprised. Fenesis, like Irine, was unexpected interested in such things.

Of course, he knew that she would chat about love with when together with Irine, but it was strange hearing this from her directly. It was as though a toddler who knew not of left and right had just aged a few years.

Also, she was asking not just anyone, but himself, with the moniker of ‘interest’. It was too refreshing an experience, and he was unable to act pouty.

“Seems like an honest craftsman.”

He simply answered.

Fenesis’ eyes looked afar, as though trying to imagine such a person.

“So how did they meet?”

There was a maiden presence emitting in the air, and Kusla hissed,

“…Is this how you ask why God came upon this land?”

Fenesis shrugged proudly.

“To spread the Gospel, so the Bible says.”

She was a quick thinker to begin with, and this trait was obvious whenever she calmed down.

Kusla answered her seriously,

“I heard from the glassmakers that they needed to procure necessities through the drug store. One encounter after another probably resulted in that love blossoming. Of course, the main key is the eyeglass.”

“…”

Fenesis closed her eyes silently.

“Sounds like a calming story.”

Her lips showed a faint smile. A clumsy craftsman had met a similarly clumsy girl. The girl loved to read, but had bad eyesight, so the craftsman made an eyeglass for her.

The ending of such stories would typically have hares and squirrels blessing them with bouquets of flowers.

“Well unfortunately, we’re often involved in murders or curses.”

Kusla intentionally dampened the mood, as though scattering poisonous mercury on the bright grassy plains of Spring.

But Fenesis did not look disgusted.

“Even in such moments, you showed a kind side. It is in crisis that people showed their true personalities.”

“…”

Spare me already. Kusla turned his face aside. Fenesis giggled, and slowly turned her eyes towards their hands.

“But if that is so, those two should be getting along well.”

It seemed the clothes she wore never concealed her goody-goody personality well. She smiled tenderly, looking happily, as though thinking there was nothing to worry of both of them were truly in love.

In contrast, Kusla maintained the stoic look, not even shrugging,

“No.”

Fenesis’ hand froze.

“One is within the walls, and one is outside. The glassmakers have to migrate elsewhere once every few years. They have different identities, and that craftsman’s carelessness caused his boss to throw quite a tantrum. You’re not listening, right?”

Those with dreams would never become good craftsmen.

“And even worse, the glassmakers are hated by the townspeople. There’s no way this will end with a happy ending.”

Kusla calmly rubbed Fenesis’ hand.

And upon contact, he could sense her disappointment.

Yes, there was no way there could be a happy ending.

Thus, Roze’s thoughts were not completely illogical.

He experienced the pain of losing a loved one, and Helena, in a rare act of gutsiness, handed the letter over to Kusla. She would feel uneasy thinking about how Rihito and the other glassmakers would leave this land. Kusla could understand her feelings, since this little girl before him too possessed much reckless courage in her little body. If the medicine really showed any effects, the request might have been expected. This was a moment when anything that happened would be a point of no return, and the last thing anyone would want would be to regret over their inaction. At the very least, they could give the excuse that they did try to fight against fate.

In that case, why don’t I try making one as an experiment? A dark bubble floated in Kusla’s heart.

“You feel hopeless to be requested for such a thing, I suppose…”

Fenesis continued,

“I feel a little disappointed.”

Nothing would come out of Helena and Rihito’s love, but to her, what did it mean?

Those were nauseating words, yet at the same time, it was the truth. Not everyone could be happy. Happiness could only be earned when it occurred. After obtaining it, one had to grab onto it tightly, and not let go.

He had a little understanding of her guilt.

He understood, but he did not want to agree.

“Is it because you’re often teased by me?”

Once Kusla interrupted, Fenesis looked up at him, dumbfounded, before smiling and said,

“Teasing or sarcasm requires a person to be next to me.”

“…”

Kusla was speechless.

Fenesis lowered her eyes. Kusla’s hand remained on hers, and she put her left hand over it.

“You taught me to think for myself, to be decisive. Such is the effective medicine to cure one’s conscience.”

Thus, she would not let go.

She would not let go of this hardship that could forgotten, one called tender love.

Kusla sensed a little part that was cold as ice, like honey poured into the temple, causing the mind to numb.

On this unpredictable world, after he nearly lost Fenesis, he understood he should have been clear before he had any regrets, and this was the one thing he wanted to avoid.

A stubborn girl she was. It was all too easy to imagine that no matter what happened, there would be a situation which she could have left him behind, yet she would stay by his side without hesitation.

An aphrodisiac was like a double-edged sword.

But if his body could extend her lifespan instead.

So right as Kusla was thinking about this.

“It seems I too have been poisoned by you.”

Fenesis said, and smiled bashfully.

For Kusla, it was a pure smile way too dazzling, one he dared not to stare directly at.

He dared not believe that such feelings could easily be affected by the medicine.

However, the desire to not lose overcome his disbelief.

“The bitterness in my mouth is your poison then.”

Whenever she smiled at him, his facial muscles would stiffen on their own, twisting, as though he was the one poisoned.

“Fufu.”

She had a boyish attire, but there was no disguising the smile only an earnest girl would show. The charm was like a potent wine, one he knew the effects of, but could not eschew. Surely it was because he knew that, he held her hand tighter. In that case, he was certain on what he had to do.

He felt the rock pressing near his heart throbbing.

“What is it?”

Kusla suddenly withdrew his hand, and Fenesis, shocked, asked,

“Played for too long.”

Fenesis earnestly interpreted the words as they were, and impishly snickered.

“I’ll be going out for a little while.”

“Eh?”

“I have some things to check regarding the concoction.”

He had somewhat decoded the contents, and wanted to be sure if he could assemble the ingredients. He wanted to find out about those herbs and their effects, from the catalogue the drug store would surely have. By knowing these, he could make minor adjustments to the effects.

“Keep copying. I’ll be back immediately.”

“Understood.”

Fenesis answered obediently, and held the pen in her hand.

Kusla stood up, put on his coat, and left the room without looking back.

The sky remained as cloudy as the previous night, and in the harsh cold, he teetered towards the drug store.

He opened the door, and the scent of the herbs was richer than when he arrived the previous night.

And once he saw Helena seated at the counter, he quietly clicked his tongue.

“Your father?”

“At the, town council.”

It seemed the meeting would last the whole day.

I should look for him at the meeting then. So Kusla thought,

“…Erm”

Helena finally spoke up, as though she had enough of waiting.

“How…did it go?”

“Didn’t you eavesdrop last night?”

It seemed she did not hear the important points, but she did have a grasp of what was going on.

“I’ll deliver the knowledge they need for their privileges, and they’ll probably pack up before moving elsewhere. As long as the town situation doesn’t change too much, they should be able to make it in time.”

“…”

“Nobody’s going to die from the town attacks.”

Kusla said, and Helena nodded.

However, she was looking down, never lifting her face.

“It will be as you wish.”

He said these words so callously. He could not show any pity to the one he was going to experiment on.

And if she was feeling pain, he could assume that he was helping her a little.

He tried to reduce her suffering.

“Really…?”

Helena muttered as hoarsely and feebly as her appearance implied.

Kusla had a mutual benefit with Roze. The latter had requested for the girl’s confusion, her pain, to be erased. Kusla himself wanted to experiment with the aphrodisiac.

But, right after.

Helena looked to be on the verge of tears. He was not mistaken.

But this overly uneasy expression clearly broke into a smile.

“In that case, you’ll probably be able to meet one day.”

Kusla retreated. He was too careless. He should have known of this possibility.

As long as the important person was still alive, he could be her pillar of support. She could endure no matter how hard it would be.

It was so similar to what the snowy white girl would say.

“I feel it is God’s blessing that I can entrust the letter to you.”

Helena smiled, as though she truly believed in those words.

But that would be impossible. By God’s grace, she was able to notify the glassmakers, and she should be satisfied with that. It was clear that she was trying to convince herself. She had the exact same thought process as Fenesis. Kusla was truly astonished by her naivete. Also, she resembled him in certain ways, and this was one major reason why he could not ignore her.

Thus, Kusla would be perturbed if Helena simply accepted it for what it was.

“I don’t want God watching me, so I’ll be honest.”

Kusla beckoned the voice of ‘interest’. The voice of a cunning one, cruel, unscrupulous, only doing things for his own objectives.

“You’ll be the only one who’ll remember. He’ll forget soon.”

The mask of thin mist could have been blown aside with this little breeze.

Helena looked towards Kusla, her eyes clearly showing that she did not want to listen.

“He’s always focused on his work. He’ll become a good craftsman, will destroy all thoughts that will cause his colleagues trouble, and act like nothing happened. A few years later, he’ll follow through with the long-standing tradition of those craftsman, and marry a woman suited for that lifestyle.”

These words were fine for Kusla, but very cruel to Helena, for they were not all lies, and would most likely end up happening.

“Otherwise, if I had left the place, he would have entrusted me with a few words to you, or a letter. You know, don’t you? It’s his job to write the letters, since the boss can’t read. He had chances to write to you.”

Helena feebly shook her head, not that she was denying that, but that she refused to listen

Kusla slowly reeled his chin back in.

“Hurry and forget what is most important to you. You heard our conversation yesterday, right? I’m an alchemist. If not…”

The poison fangs were reaching for Helena’s tender heart.

“Shall I erase that suffering from you?”

Gulp, Helena held down her chest, as though her heart was being crushed. Her breathing was frantic, her agony as though she was suffering from malaria. How pitiful, so Kusla thought, yet somewhere inside his heart, he was cold as ice.

No ordinary person could pass the wall, nor could one expend his entire life seeking the legendary ash. The only ones capable of doing so would have authority they could abuse, or a fanatical self-consciousness of recklessness. Most people would gie up before they were emotionally and socially crushed, or they would be like the young craftsman Rihito, who chose the proper life.

By making that decision, Rihito would end up being the first one to be swept away by the world, and left behind would be the girl doted by her father, remaining in the shop filled with pixie fragrance, reading the epics.

This contained a medicine that could wake people up from their dreams.

She might fall into another dream, but if that dream could allow her to understand that the prior one was a fake, it would allow her to face reality clearly.

This would also apply to himself.

Besides, they were all medicine.

As long as he was able to protect Fenesis’ existence, feelings, it did not mattered.

“Love, romance, these are all fleeting dreams. No way can you go along with what you see in the epics. Miracles never happen.”

Kusla himself had warned Fenesis this a few times, and——

Right on point, his thoughts were interrupted by a sound.

Klank! Bam! Suddenly, a loud boom, causing Kusla to be taken aback. Something seemed to have crashed into the door. Did a carriage horse go berserk?

Kusla turned back to look, and the doors opened.

“I-it’s you…”

Kusla blurted out, but the intruder never paid heed to him, and instead focused on one point.

His clothes were covered in dirt, and one had to wonder if he was beaten up, and tripped over. He had a cloth wrapped around his face to conceal it, and as he removed it, one could see the nosebleed.

Following that was the sound of a chair knocked down.

The blond pixie drifted by before Kusla’s eyes.

“Rihito!”

Helena exclaimed as she ran to Rihito, kneeling down on both knees, embracing him while he was in agony.

Kusla was taken aback as he saw the two of them collapsed on the floor. He started to doubt if this was an illusion caused by the thousands of herbs. However, Rihito was clearly before him, and Helena was embracing him.

Of course, beyond the door, a few people were looking in, giving curious looks

It was reality.

Kusla was in disbelief, for Rihito’s actions were utterly foolish, like fish falling from the heavens.

“Damn!”

Kusla cursed, yanked the duo by the back of their napes into the shop, and slammed the door hard.

He then observed the situation outside the wooden window, shut them after he was sure nobody was looking and locked the door

“Helena, sorry…I…”

“Don’t say it…please, don’t say anything…”

An uncreative epic? The world isn’t as smooth sailing as a story. Kusla had warned the slack mouthed Fenesis countless times.

And then——

He could not forget that until the very end, she persisted.

“I had to…had to, see you for the last time.”

Rihito said anxiously, so anxious they were that they never stood up. Helena shook her head, and grabbed onto him, not letting go.

Kusla watched them, and he was unable to him. His mind was yelling away, wanting him to leave this place.

The lovestruck glassmaker came to meet his lover without any care for the consequences. Kusla could already imagine the ending, that once the townspeople found them, their fates would be similar to burning iron tossed into the hay.

Of course, he knew that he had a shield called the Knights. Even with his involvement, he could retreat without harm. Despite that, the shield was not cost-free. It was something that wears out after every use. The trust of those in authority could support his defenses after all.

He was thinking that if he was involved with those two, and revealed his own identity, necessitating the Knights’ rescue, what would Alzen think? Surely the trust would be lost, while Kusla and the others would lose their freedom. Political capital could not be wasted on this. This was an iron will the alchemists abided to after wandering from ruler to ruler. Alzen’s trust in him was too great, that it was only to be used when he was completely cornered.

But his legs could not move.

It was unbelievable, but there was an inexplicable sense of delight.

Can human feelings be changed by something simple like an aphrodisiac? Even the conviction to head to the Land of Magdala?

Kusla was shocked to the point that he shook his head side to side.

Looking at them, he recalled the words a past companion once brilliantly said. While copying the secret journal, did Fenesis not boast with confidence?

No way would she fall to the medicine.

In other words,

No medicine would work on imbeciles.

“Hey, I want to ask.”

Kusla kicked at the limp Rihito without mercy. Helena widened her eyes, glaring at Kusla while looking like she wanted to protect Rihito. She was no meek girl.

“How did you get through the town walls?”

Depending on the answer, Kusla would act differently.

“…I had a permit.”

Rihito’s mind regained some soberness, answering as he pulled Helena, who looked as though she was going to bite Kusla.

“Didn’t they remember your appearance?”

Even with a permit, the townspeople knew the permit was one the glassmakers used.

“Yes. But the guard duty was divided between the townspeople and the Knights.”

Upon careful observation, he chose to sneak in while the Knights were stationed, while they were oblivious to what was going on.

Kusla and the spy did the same when the entered the town.

Rihito’s guts and luck were the real deal. Of course, the same could be said for his folly.

“Then what’s with that nosebleed?”

“This…”

Rihito hurriedly wiped it off with his sleeve, and Helena, having realized it, stood up in a panic, and hastily opened the drawer of ointments. It was not difficult finding medication for his wound.

“I tripped…on the road…”

He was serious, capable, and it seemed he was not lacking in mobility.

However, such clumsy aspects might be understood as to why a girl like Helena would fall in love with him.

“Did anyone discover you?”

“…Probably not.”

He tripped over as he was too excited, looked like he was escaping for his life when he barged into this shop, and was spotted. Once the rumors spread of a weird intruder, the wall guards would be summoned. News of a glassmaker slipping in might be revealed. In any case, this might be the first possibility the townspeople would think of.

“…”

Once again, Kusla began to think. Should he continue to investigate the legendary ash of this town, or should be pretend to be uninvolved with those two for his own sake? He had the secret journal containing the aphrodisiac recipe. He should be handing it over to the glassmakers, but if he returned to the inn and asked the spy, he should be able to deliver the secret journal over.

He had no reason to help the duo, practically none.

He could have dragged the duo off to the guards, threw them into the cell, and ask the council. He would ask if he could use the prisoners as his test subjects.

But he knew all too well that he could no longer do this.

Their folly was exactly the same as him and Fenesis.

As long as there was charm, he was fine with her being a cursed, deformed girl. Having felt this way, Kusla went through various obstacles, and like him, Rihito passed the walls.

It was only recently that Kusla learned of the word cooperation, but he had to add another word here.

Resonance.

Once he felt Rihito was similar, had to stop thinking.

He saw a teary Helena half-kneeling on the floor, wiping Rihito’s facial wound with a balm, and Rihito was enduring the torturous pain worse than the wound.

Kusla felt this all too well, so well that his face naturally contorted.

Such feelings could not be changed by medicine.

“You have two options.”

Kusla said,

“One is to keep hiding until you’re speared through.”

Helena and Rihito looked towards Kusla in unison.

“And the other is…damn!”

Midway through, Kusla cursed. He sensed that light was blocked from the crease of the sealed wooden window for half a second.

Again, and again.

There should be a few men approached the front door from the wall. The shop was typically run by a girl reading her epics, and it was impossible to have so many visitors so suddenly.

“Stand up. The cat’s out of the bag.”

Kusla said, and Rihito immediately exhibited the mannerism one in a risky profession should have.

He stood up without hesitation, but it was a different matter whether they could get up and leave.

“Helena, you…”

He stammered, probably wondering if he should take Helena away. If he did, the people in town would have deemed her an accomplice. If she was left alone, they could have pretended to be strangers.

“Can you insist on your own innocence?”

Kusla asked Helena.

Just moments ago, she was glaring at Kusla, but that was due to Rihito being next to her. Once she realized she could have been left behind, the determination she had vanished without a trace. If someone pointed a spear at her and asked who came by, she would probably blurt out.

“Take her away. Nothing good will happen if you stay.”

Rihito nodded, and carried Helena. His arms, legs and waist were thicker than Kusla’s. Suddenly, there were frantic footsteps at the door.

“We’re the guards! Heard someone weird had entered the shop! Are you fine!?”

Someone made a report, but as it was too sudden, perhaps the intruder was mistaken for a drunk, or a rowdy rascal, or worse, a bandit.

Kusla shot a look, and led them to the back door.

“Hey! Anyone inside? Damn! The door’s locked!”

The shop door was rattling away.

At this moment, Kusla and the others had opened the back door, and strode off quickly.

While running, Kusla had a thought. The last time this happened, he jumped into the water.

“How is the investigation?”

Kusla returned to the inn room, and Fenesis asked. He ignored her question, grabbed a handkerchief on the table, draped it messily on her head, and covered her ears.

“Hm? Wh-what are you doing?”

“I brought visitors.”

He quietly explained, before opening the door and letting the duo in. There was the panting Rihito, and Helena, who ended up running on her own legs.

“The glassmaker Rihito, and you know the girl at the medicine shop. The name’s Helena. Right, you done copying?”

Kusla went on a spiel of questions to prevent Fenesis from asking anything.

“So-sorry…just a little more…”

Accuracy was more important than anything else. Kusla withstood the impulse to click his tongue, thinking that he should have discussed with the spies on what he should do. So he grabbed the door handle.

“Erm!”

Fenesis yelled at him.

“Did something happen?”

How could there not?

“Bring them into the inside room, get a closet, and block the door.”

Kusla said, and opened the door, intending to find the spies and brief them on what happened. The spy who accompanied him to the glassmakers’ den was at the door, probably sensing that something was amiss.

“Did something happen?”

“We got imbeciles as foolish as alchemists.”

The spy looked inside, saw Rihito, and could not disguise his shock at all.

“What…did he cross the wall?”

“He said he wanted to see her for the last time.”

“…”

The spy seemed hesitant to speak, but ultimately never said anything.

“He did pass the walls successfully, but it seemed he was spotted entering the drug store. Looks like he can’t play dumb like you and me.”

The spy nodded vaguely, and it seemed he already had a rough grasp of what was going on.

“We managed to escape the shop at the last moment. I can’t cover our tracks completely in a foreign town. If the guards are to pursue, they’ll find us here.”

“Understood. I can handle this matter. But, why…?”

The spy showed a cold look befitting his identity.

Why bring them here?

“Why, you ask?”

Kusla stared back at the spy, and gave an undaunted smile.

He understood the spy’s question. All too well.-

But just as he could not resist pranking a girl, he could not understand himself.

“…You have to know that once the dyes are mixed together, it is impossible to regain the original colors.”

As long as he was affected by this thing called emotions, he could no longer be as sharp as the fine knife.

“I do.”

He held Fenesis’ hand. Back then, he held her hand with the realization that there was no turning back.

He was really ashamed to be panicking in the face of an aphrodisiac. Thus, it was the same rationale as being unable to remain calm whenever Fenesis was with Weyland.

Helena and Rihito’s immaturity caused him to remember who alchemists truly were.

“Anyway, let’s get through this crisis. This will affect our future journey.”

The spy was absolutely spot on.

Kusla closed the door, and looked back.

Three pairs of eyes were on him.

“First, get into the inner room.”

Kusla crudely waved his hand, sending Rihito and Helena into the room. The one left was the stubborn fellow who never budged no matter how he tried to shoo her. At this point, he had no intention of chasing her away.

“You-you saved them?”

Fenesis herself was in peril countless times. Her hiding place was raided before, not once nor twice. She probably had a grasp on the situation, and a little thought into it, she probably realized it was a situation Kusla could have escaped by himself.

And thus, when Fenesis showed the utter look of disbelief, Kusla frowned.

“Is it that surprising?”

He asked in a pouting manner, and Fenesis hurriedly shook her head.

She then stammered,

“Just a little…stupefied…

So you mean you’re surprised. So Kusla thought, but he did not try to correct her.

There was something more important. Kusla held down his bridge, trying to think. He caused the problem, and he had to find a way to resolve this problem.

If he relied on the Knights, Alzen would be displeased. Even if he handed the secret journal of the aphrodisiac over, there was a possibility that it would be pointless. The spies knew he obtained the secret journal without obstruction. Kusla implicating the Knights into Helena and Rihito’s problem would seem so irrational. The situation clearly looked this way, that they had obtained precious knowledge, that it was his choice whether his should save the two unfortunate young fellows, nothing to do with them, no?

Alzen and the spies’ opinion of Kusla would probably deteriorate greatly. This would have great effect on their journey, and would implicate Weyland and Irine who were travelling along.

“So…we just need to depart safely.”

The two lovebirds, already separated by the wall, finally got to meet. After that, the matter would be resolved once they could escape the clutches of the evil ones.

It would be so wonderful if the world would be so simple.

“If only what happens thereafter can be ignored by them.”

“Eh?”

“News of the glassmaker’s entry will spread, just a matter of time. Since Helena’s not at home, no matter how foolish they are, they’ll figure out who led him away. If they elope, her family will be implicated, and the townspeople get their perfect excuse to attack the glassmakers.”

Of the council, Roze seemed to be on the opinion that they should spare the glassmakers. Most probably, he was trying to coax the blacksmith guild and the church priest who had been advocating violence on the glassmakers. Once the guild knew of this, they would question Roze, if he knew of Helena’s discrete communications, and thus why he was speaking up for the glassmakers. Naturally, he would be branded a traitor, and the outcome would either be that he would be excluded from the council, or brought to the gallows, but it was all the same.

In retaliation, those wanting to eradicate the glassmakers would surely declare, that just as the glassmakers had did to Helena, they were a group of abductors who lured their daughters away. Thus, all involved had to follow, for the order of the town had been disturbed, and if they were to remain silent, their authority in the town would be doubted.

At this point, the glassmakers would never be able to return to this land.

Could those two ignore everything and escape the walls?

More importantly, was there a better way to resolve this? In the face of the logic of this world, were people destined to remain silent? Would Rihito’s recklessness as he barged into that shop be dismissed as reckless? Were human emotional just this much? Kusla glanced upon the secret journal opened on the table, and the copy. If that was the case, the aphrodisiac really fit him well. He should not be pinning his hopes on the ridiculous legendary ash that could grow gold and silver. Such a fact truly agitated the naivety in his heart.

He was peeved.

The Orichalcum sword was merely a daydream of all daydreams.

“Do not worry.”

Fenesis’ slightly cold little hand grabbed Kusla’s.

“At the very least, you are doing the right thing. Please do not show such a face.”

The green eyes were staring at Kusla adamantly.

He was more intoxicated than he had assumed.

If not, there would be no way he would have thought of helping Helena and Rihito.

And at the same time, he really did not want to accept Fenesis’ words.

“Think about it. We are not soaked rats, nor surrounded by hostile, murderous people. There is still time for us to calm down and think.”

Calm down and think. Such were the words Kusla nagged at Fenesis countless times.

Unexpectedly, he would be the one being nagged at.

“And, I heard.”

“…What?”

Kusla asked, and Fenesis answered,

“I heard you learned the word cooperation.”

“…”

In retaliation, those wanting to eradicate the glassmakers would surely declare, that just as the glassmakers had did to Helena, they were a group of abductors who lured their daughters away. Thus, all involved had to follow, for the order of the town had been disturbed, and if they were to remain silent, their authority in the town would be doubted.

At this point, the glassmakers would never be able to return to this land.

Could those two ignore everything and escape the walls?

More importantly, was there a better way to resolve this? In the face of the logic of this world, were people destined to remain silent? Would Rihito’s recklessness as he barged into that shop be dismissed as reckless? Were human emotional just this much? Kusla glanced upon the secret journal opened on the table, and the copy. If that was the case, the aphrodisiac really fit him well. He should not be pinning his hopes on the ridiculous legendary ash that could grow gold and silver. Such a fact truly agitated the naivety in his heart.

He was peeved.

The Orichalcum sword was merely a daydream of all daydreams.

“Do not worry.”

Fenesis’ slightly cold little hand grabbed Kusla’s.

“At the very least, you are doing the right thing. Please do not show such a face.”

The green eyes were staring at Kusla adamantly.

He was more intoxicated than he had assumed.

If not, there would be no way he would have thought of helping Helena and Rihito.

And at the same time, he really did not want to accept Fenesis’ words.

“Think about it. We are not soaked rats, nor surrounded by hostile, murderous people. There is still time for us to calm down and think.”

Calm down and think. Such were the words Kusla nagged at Fenesis countless times.

Unexpectedly, he would be the one being nagged at.

“And, I heard.”

“…What?”

Kusla asked, and Fenesis answered,

“I heard you learned the word cooperation.”

“…”

Fenesis beamed happily, and even through the fabric covering her head, one could see her ears twitching happily.

Kusla had involved himself with the problem. This was a fact that could not be erased.

In this case, what he should do was to obtain the best outcome. This should be of utmost priority in an alchemist’s workshop

“I might hear you out if you’re an old hag full of wrinkles.”

Stop treating me like a child, so Fenesis puffed her cheeks, only to show a reluctant smile thereafter.

“I just learned something. People should not be mesmerized by appearances.”

“Too accurate for me to refute.”

Kusla shook his head slightly.

However, logic was no magic. Simply talking about it would not solve any problems.

Right at this moment, the door to the inner room opened slightly.

“I have a suggestion.”

Rihito looked grim, and Kusla gave a slight smile as he saw that, for he could see the determination he once had. No matter how appealing Fenesis’ words were, black could not simply turn white like that.

And behind Rihito, Helena seemed to have made up her mind too as she said,

“Th-that is a bad idea! You can’t do that!”

“But this is the only way. Me entering this town itself was a mistake”

“Well, you’re right.”

Kusla tersely expressed his opinion, and Rihito looked relieved.

His personality was such that he felt comfort to be blamed.

Why is it that I end up meeting such people? So Kusla thought.

“That’s the secret journal they mentioned, right?”

Atop the table was the secret journal and its copy

Kusla nodded.

“So what about that?”

Rihito answered,

“Please say that I came to steal that secret journal. I was discovered, so I took Helena as a hostage and brought her here.”

This excuse could save Helena.

“But how are you going to tell your boss? This sounds like it’s giving an excuse to those who hate you glassmakers.”

“I risked my life to steal the secret journal the noble asked for. Now I can insist that I’m devoted myself for the country of Ariel. The nobles might take that into consideration.”

“So, if a noble lets his obedient servant be killed by the townspeople, his reputation will be affected, no? Well, if it goes as well as you say, maybe the townspeople might not attack the glassmakers, and the lady down there is a victim. But…”

Kusla shrugged.

“Who’s going to believe you when she looks like that now?”

Kusla looked towards Helena.

She was bursting into tears, unable to speak well. It was wise not to leave her at the drug shop. Surely she would not be able to think of an act to clarify their relationship. Henceforth, she might not be able to do so.

“The council will prepare a script, decrying that you two are secretly working together. I don’t think there’s anything you can say. Forget about it. Look at her.”

Aiming for the weak spots is a basic for hunting.

“Are you two intending to die together?”

“No. I should be responsible for my own actions.”

Rihito stared right towards Kusla.

“I heard you’re an alchemist. Please help me.”

“…”

Kusla’s smile was so intriguing, for he already expected it to happen.

“I used the secret journal to make an aphrodisiac, and had Helena drink it as my hostage. Helena…yeah, it’s just out of confusion.”

It was similar to Roze’s suggestion.

The decisive difference was that Rihito was using it to create his own fate.

“Hm, I guess you’re right about being confused.”

Helena slammed her fists on Rihito’s chest to explain her unbearable pain.

Seeing her like this, Fenesis too endured with an anguished look.

Kusla stared intently at Rihito.

There was none of the doubt which the youth showed at the hideout.

“But you’ll die instead, you know?”

The nobles supporting the glassmakers might falter, and lament his obedience. However, that would have to wait while he and the nobles spend some unbearable time together.

Also, breaking into a town to save someone was completely different from protecting a craftsman who had impetuously snuck through the wall. The latter would be become a battle to suppress the land and seize the authority. Obviously, to do that would result in a war against the Knights

Also, for the townspeople, what the young man did was akin to spitting on the Gods protecting them. There was no reason to let him leave. He would be hanged on the gallows, all to maintain their order.

“…I came here to meet her the last time, and I’m willing to die. No, I’m wrong…I feel that if I leave this place, I’ll be no different from dead.”

Young and lively, so Kusla thought. However, he felt much nostalgia in such a notion.

People would ultimately die, and continued to compromise as they tried to live on. Is there something awaiting them down the road? Living on with one’s own convictions is living a complete life.

Rihito faced Helena once again, and embraced her gently.

Right on point.

“But that’s still weird!”

Helena shoved Rihito aside, shouting,

“Weird! Why must you…!”

Rihito shook his head sadly, silently implying this was the only thing he could do.

But Helena stubbornly shook her head.

“That, that…and anyway, the townspeople are all doing it for money…that little thing, that little thing…”

“It’s no little thing. We can’t live in the forest just on honey alone. This world has fairy tales because everyone knows reality isn’t the case.”

It’s a pity, but this was the truth.

“Th-then…try making the legendary ash again…as-as long as they have money, the blacksmith guild, even the priest will…”

“Helena…”

Rihito groaned painfully.

Kusla found that Helena was particularly interested in the legendary ash when he received the letter. This was the reason.

She seemed an intelligent girl, well aware of the conflict between the town and the glassmakers, and understood how powerless she was in the structure of this world. Thus, she was pinning her hopes on a miracle that could surpass it all.

In that case, Helena’s obsession with reading heroic epics took a different twist.

Perhaps she was not trying to run from reality, but to find hints on the legendary ash. Furthermore, the legendary ash was something the glassmakers spent generations seeking without success.

In that case, they should try looking from a different perspective. Method-wise, this was extremely correct.

“The legend’s just a legend. There’s no angel descending upon us.”

It would be one thing if they could state that so calmly. However, Rihito wept as he said so.

He then wiped away his tears immediately, and faced Kusla,

“Can you make an aphrodisiac for me? It might cause misfortune on you, but I want to take it all.”

“…”

Kusla warned himself not to be too hasty to conclude. He had personally witnessed their immaturity, and was calmly thinking if there was any other way out.

Was there any chance of himself falling into a trap of tunnel vision.

At this moment, Fenesis tugged at Kusla’s shirt, pleading,

“Can you not lend your power to help them?”

Prudently put, rather than his own efforts, it was due to the contributions of Weyland, Irine, and Fenesis that he had such a power.

In this sense, Fenesis should have the right to involve the Knights. Her playing up the role of jumping into the furnace was to exhibit a miracle.

However, she probably knew very well that Kusla had his own reasons for not suggesting this method.

Despite that, she asked for Kusla’s view, as though it was a last resort.

Kusla shrugged.

While Fenesis was the type of person who would gladly save someone as long as she knew the person could be saved, she knew this would affect others adversely, and learned how to stop and reconsider. In any case, she was relatively cautious.

The relationship between humans is like a spider web. The more one struggles, the more ensnared one would get. There was no knife to cut the knots.

“Without an angel, this town and us won’t be here.”

For the first time, Rihito sounded like he was grumbling. Without the angel, there would be no ash, and without ash, Rihito’s ancestors would not be rich enough to establish this town.

“…But I don’t want a world where I never met you, Rihito…”

Helena buried her face into Rihito’s chest, who closed his eyes in agony.

“Why is God always like this? Why is He always showing a little miracle? Does that not cause more suffering for us?”

Kusla sensed Fenesis freezing up upon hearing that.

What Rihito said was undoubtedly a curse, the origin of one she bore till this point.

“The grandfathers of my grandfathers must have suffered, trying so hard to find the ash that changed their destitute state completely. I heard they gathered plants all over the world, but never found the ash. The futility must have shocked them. If the angel’s really an angel, why did it not teach us the method to create the ash? The miracle that came in the spur of a moment…”

Rihito embraced Helena tightly.

“Well, it will only cause suffering.”

Kusla gently patted Fenesis on the shoulder, who immediately nodded, indicating she was fine. However, it seemed she was still dejected.

But if the legend of the angel was real, and the real identity of the angel was an Ancient, Kusla could not say that the hatred was completely on the glassmakers’ volition.

If the Ancients truly existed, and were living, Kusla could not imagine why they would help in such a half-hearted reason. The only reason he could think of was providence from the strong to the weak, but strangely, he just felt that the Ancients of all people were not like this.

In fact, the dragon-shaped flamethrowers of Kazan were personally sealed by the citizens of Kazan. It seemed it was due to the weapons being overly powerful, that it was a matter of time until they would beckon calamity, and they pretended not to have such weapons to begin with.

Thus, the actions of the Ancients in this town was all the more inscrutable. Did they stop at this settlement on their journey, and left the ash behind as a token of thanks? Even so, there was no way they did not know what miracle their technology would bring. It was due to the cruelty enacted upon them that they trekked all the way from the Far East, and escaped here.

Something seemed amiss.

Also, one could not forget about Korad Abria’s signature.

Was the legend real, or fake.

No, even if the ash was real, the angel was surely no angel.

The angel was one simply because people believed so.

Even if the legend was real, what they brought was no miracle, just a skill. The dragon-shaped flamethrowers were deemed a miracle because the gullible people thought so in their ignorance.

People were often presumptuous.

Anyone that could create a miracle was deemed an angel; anyone wearing craftsmen clothes were deemed as one.

Once he realized this, Kusla suddenly stopped thinking.

If a person bringing miracles was an angel, and someone wearing craftsmen clothes was a craftsman.

Then, in that case…

“But, it is a pity. Doubting God won’t solve any issues here.”

Rihito said, as though he had some realization.

Kusla remained silent, staring intently at Rihito, so much that he did not blink

Yes.

This really was the ‘wall’ dividing the craftsmen from the alchemists.

“Hey, I want to ask.”

Kusla clearly spoke up.

“…What is it?”

“Did you try all the ash?”

It seemed that for a moment, Rihito could not comprehend the meaning of this question.

The first to respond was Helena, who so yearned a miracle.

“We-we tried…all the records…left in…the shop. I too…”

She sniveled as she answered. However, it was clear she had the defiant attitude to fight until the very end.

Kusla did not hate such a girl.

“Really?”

“…Fu, eh…?”

“Really?”

Kusla asked once again.

Rihito seemed to have gotten the implied message as he asked,

“What do you mean? Are there other special herbs we know not of…”

“No, this isn’t what I mean. In that case, the angel’s rather kind. I guess that’s why there’s the legend, right?”

Next to him, Fenesis quickly lifted her head like a shot.

“The people rejoicing because of the miracle firmly believed it was a miracle, but at the same time, they doubted.”

“I don’t understand what you mean…”

So Kusla explained to Rihito, who remained perplexed,

“It’s a miracle. It’s something that surpasses human understanding. So while people really believed in it, they cursed the angel, and were unwilling to believe the mysterious parts.”

As he continued talking, Kusla’s mind was starting to focus on a thought he could not deny.

If the angel was no angel, and was an Ancient who left the ash behind out of goodwill.

“The angel’s words were no metaphor, no hint. It’s the truth.”

“Eh…but, that…I don’t understand…”

“It’s an ash that gave rise to gold and silver. Because of that, people later took the ash as a miracle, and the angel’s words as a command from the Heavens, so the later people edited it as such. No, this is the only thing that makes sense. It’s for this reason that the inquisitor signed on the genesis story of this town. That’s the reason why there are some differences from what the boss said and what the town’s legend was. This should be the exact message.”

Kusla slowly inhaled.

“The legendary ash was ash produced from creating gold and silver.”

One would have to wonder, would the knowledge of a certain incident affect the discernment of the difference between those words.

Just as an aphrodisiac could be deemed a medicine to force someone to fall in love, it could also be a medicine to twist the original meaning of love.

“You don’t know? Surely you don’t!”

Kusla snickered. There was nothing more delightful than one discovering the secret for himself. Also, the secret itself was something very unimpressive.

It seemed people would often think of how they should survive in the framework of this world, and would keep thinking within this confined, narrow space.

He would know, thinking back to the boss’ words.

No matter where the glassmakers went, they were on bad terms with the townspeople.

The moment Kusla heard those words, he sensed the glassmakers never tested all the ash.

The glassmakers merely cared about toiling in the forest for long hours, their only contact being the drug store.

“It’s not the ash created from burning herbs.”

“W-what? The ash isn’t?”

Common sense. A presumptuous mindset. A subjective assumption. Vague terms whenever a person tried to convey something. For example, a blacksmith would call melting iron as hot soup. By the same logic, so was ash. Once Kusla realized it, it all made sense.

“I saw the legendary ash.”

“Eh!?”

Kusla heard three voices.

“Putting together all we know, we can create even dragons. This is what it means to apply skills.”

However, those that never thought of such a combination would have viewed it as a miracle, deeming it the arrival of God. Ignorance would give rise to blind trust, and blind trust would easily become a curse...

“Just to note, you saw it too.”

Fenesis’ shocked expression once again agitated his juvenile urge to bully.

“With this legendary ash, we can just blow by all the foolish structure of the world. This…can shut up the council.”

In the past, this was used to create massive revenues to build the town.

Of course, blindly believing in a miracle had its own risks, but once in a while, it could be forgiven.

What led to Kusla discovering the legendary ash were the two lovestruck ones before him.

“Th-that ash is?”

Fenesis seemed to have lost her patience as she started to ask.

At this moment, he could hear hasty footsteps coming from the corridor, and the door was shoved aside hard.

“Heard you got into trouble~!”

Weyland stormed into the room, looking all amused, giving a completely different vibe from the rest of the room. However, he was shoved aside by an excited, red-faced Irine.

“Leave that for later! More importantly, we discovered something big on the blacksmith street!”

A completely upbeat Irine finished, before noticing the presences of Helena and Rihito.

“Eh? Uh, huh? And you two are?”

“The glassmaker and the daughter of the drug merchant. Didn’t you hear from the spy?”

“Eh? Eh? Ahh…what?”

Irine turned around, seemingly pleading Weyland for assistance.

“You’re too excited, little Irine. You were shouting on the blacksmith street, and it embarrassed me. The spy called me back then, so you never heard what he said.”

“Wh-why mention this!? Also, stop adding the ‘little’!”

Irine retorted at Weyland, before seemingly remembering something important as she turned towards Kusla again.

“M-more important! Hear what I found out. You’ll be shocked too.”

She loves metallurgy more than eating.

Irine’s discovery might have been a tad too late.

“It’s about the legendary ash?”

“Eh?”

Irine looked surprised, and behind her, Weyland looked completely interested.

“Oh, you realized~?”

“Just now.”

He was no longer being presumptuous. If these two smelting fanatics realized it, there would be no doubt.

Those equipped with the relevant knowledge would immediately understand what it was.

“So, I guess that’s it.”

Kusla’s mind had constructed a plan to quickly resolve this problem.

“Your problem, simply put, is down to a money dispute. The legendary ash your ancestors obtained wrought unbelievable amounts of wealth. So I guess the problem isn’t too hard.”

Kusla said.

“Get ready. The great o’ alchemist show revives an ancient miracle!”

Such showiness was not a bad thing.

Weyland burst out laughing, and Irine too was excited like a bull.

Rihito and Helena, the two parties involved, were completely flabbergasted, and for some reason, it was Fenesis lowering her head to apologize to them.

The spies scurried around because of the troubles Kusla brought about, and the final conclusion was that for the time being, they would deport Rihito and Helena out of time. Whatever happened to Roze and the glassmakers thereafter would be beyond their control. Furthermore, the war situation remained ambiguous, and it would be utterly foolish to involve the Knights during such unstable times.

This proposal appropriately fulfilled their current considerations, but the sensation of kicking aside reality remained unforgettable. Kusla explained the discovery of the ash to the spies, who then widened their eyes. What, are you for real?

Even the people who witnessed the dragon flamethrowers would think such.

Ash that would grow gold and silver was a form of alchemy anyone would frown at.

“But the dragon flamethrowers won’t fly in the sky. It’s best to treat its effects as half of the legend. Also, I’ve got something to ask...”

While excited, Kusla remained sane, and at the very least, he did not overestimate the technique as an omnipotent miracle. Even alchemy could not create magic.

“I want you to hear out the situation at the council. Hear out how much money is needed, and who to give to if we can resolve the glassmakers’ issue.”

“…Mind asking the reason?”

The spy’s eyes were clearly warning Kusla not to get involved in the town politics, but Kusla’s innate impishness was clearly shown on his face.

“What if I say it’s for the sake of the romance between a clumsy girl and a clumsy boy?”

“…”

And there was nothing more delightful than seeing serious people looking really displeased.

“If the glassmakers don’t exist, the legend of the ash won’t last till now. The legend itself has to involve glass. Also, if we want to recreate the legendary ash, we need their help. With this knowledge, even we can mass produce glass, and there’ll be massive profits to be made.”

The spies exchanged looks.

“A little gift isn’t going to earn you punishment.”

The spies seemed to understand, or not, as they silently exchanged views, before reaching common understanding as they nodded with grim looks. It probably seemed so surreal to them.

“U-understood…also. About the medicine we talked about…”

“We made the copy and the interpretation. You can get such a boring medicine book anywhere.”

The aphrodisiac could not resolve the issue Helena, Rihito and Kusla would face. Kusla had no interest in a worthless tool.

So Kusla nonchalantly answered, and the spies shrugged in unison, as though they had come to a common agreement beforehand.

Kusla then arrived in the stable, where the preparations seemed to be done.

“Bought it?”

“We were asked why we bought so much. I answered that it’s for makeup, and little Irine beat me up12:40, 4 June 2019 (CEST).”

“Weyland, you’re really rude! My skin’s all rough and ugly because of the furnace fire!”

The duo, bickering on the carriage, bought the ingredient.

The ingredient was originally the byproduct of a certain work, and the most common use was makeup, which had nothing to do with metallurgy. One would ask, how much intrinsic value did it have? The answer, none. It was like waste.

“…Did you really get the ash?”

There was a haystack on the other carriage, and Rihito, hidden within, finally lost patience as he began to ask.

“It’s said that God sometimes walks by your side.”

Such ash was non-toxic, and had no value, so some workshops would just dump it by the side.

Fenesis received the bag from Weyland, looking somewhat skeptical.

“But we can’t think of any other possibility. If I’m wrong, you can just laugh.”

Kusla was absolutely confident.

Rihito seemed hesitation to speak, and finally chose not to talk. I’ll leave it to you, so he implied with his eyes, and hid inside the haystack along with Helena.

“Then let’s add a new page to the legend~!”

Weyland yelled, and they left the inn.

As they left, they glanced behind at the town guards, who were planning to search the inn the Knights often visited, with the reason of a thief having entered. As they had hidden Helena and Rihito in the haystack, they passed through the gates suddenly. They brought Helena along to avoid her being caught accidentally, to be used in the council.

Another simple reason was that Helena appeared to have no intention of leaving Rihito. While Irine and Weyland were bickering away on the carriage, they had hidden the former two into the haystack nobody could see clearly into.

Midway through, they got off the carriage, and walked into the forest.

Rihito smiled to cheer up the clumsy Helena. Kusla in turn leered whenever Fenesis slipped.

And when they arrived at that strange area again, the glassmakers widened their eyes in unison.

Some were so anxious, they had deemed Kusla’s group as the attacking townspeople.

Kusla called for the boss, and saw that the latter was already holding a saw, black faced as he stormed towards them.

“What’s going on!?”

This question was probably about why Rihito left on his own, why Helena was standing next to him, and if he had some sense left, why Kusla and the spies were around.

“Boss, I’m sorry.”

“What’s the point of saying this now! You got all of us in danger here!”

Seeing how livid the boss was, it seemed any shrub would have snapped upon his bellow.

And Fenesis, who was really startled, grabbed onto Kusla firmly.

“I’ll accept my punishment. However, I didn’t come back from the hill empty handed.”

Such words seemed to be terms only they could understand. Hearing that, the boss turned towards Kusla’s group.

“What’s going on?”

Based on what you say, I’ll decide if you’ll be thrown into the furnace.

“I might be able to improve your relationship with the town. No, I’m here to improve it.”

“What?”

The boss asked, and Weyland, standing at the back, held the bag full of ash,

“This is probably the legendary ash~”

“What…impossible! A legend’s just a legend! You want to swindle us!?”

The boss twitched the hand holding the saw, but Kusla remained unmoved.

“If I’m wrong, you can run. You’re intending to do so anyway, right?”

While it seemed there was not much change at the workplace, clearly they had been prepared to pack up and leave anytime soon. At this point, they were just waiting for Rihito, who suddenly left their hideout.

“Since you’re cornered, why not bet on a miracle as entertainment.”

The boss’ face tilted completely.

“…Leaving that aside, what about the secret journal?”

He hissed.

“It’s here.”

Kusla said, and patted Fenesis on the shoulder, the latter cringing. She then pulled out the secret journal hidden within her clothes. Even when dressed as a craftsman, her appearance made it difficult for her to resemble one.

The boss accepted it with a scowl, and sighed hard, as though a load had been unladen off him.

“…This thing might be able to satisfy the nobles now…but what’s why you gathered in a bunch? You say this is the legendary ash? What kind of ash is it? You want me to believe it’s real? Our ancestors didn’t find it even after searching half the world.”

Kusla merely shrugged.

“You’re searching the wrong places.”

“What?”

Kusla too felt he was rude, but it was the style of an alchemist he had just forgotten.

“Just to ask, I have something to confirm.

Once Weyland handed the ash over to the boss, Kusla asked,

“Did you hear of the name Korad Abria?”

“Uu…!”

There was no need for a proper response.

“You heard of it, right? So the legend really exists.”

“Wh-who…are you people…”

The boss took a step back, and Kusla answered,

“Just some wandering blacksmiths.”

Then, he put his hand on the boss’ sturdy shoulder.

“Mind hurrying with the experiment? This is the part we can’t do.”

“…”

No matter how reviled they were by the townspeople, the glassmakers would continue to fulfill their tasks wholeheartedly in the forest far from the crowd. At this point, there were many things that could not be stopped or changed, and this was one of them,

However, there were times when miracles would fall from the heavens, appearing before them.

There was fortune in this world, for things exceeded their imaginations.

The boss continued to stare at Kusla wordlessly.

The dream he had buried deep in his heart, hoping for the descent of the angel again, was flickering deep in his eyes from time to time.

“…Won’t the townspeople attack immediately?”

This was the question he asked.

“I don’t know much about glassmaking. How much time will it take? At the very least, when we left, they weren’t done preparing for battle. It’ll take about two, three days to gather weapons and announce their casus belli at the plaza.”

The boss slowly nodded. He might have thought that since they were in a pinch, it was harmless to continue with the charade.

“Hey everyone! The mad alchemist wants us to see an angel’s act! Set the fire!”

The craftsmen were often hated, despised, and on the run.

With hearty expressions, they responded to the boss, as though abandoning all worries.

“Is there anything I can help with?”

Irine stood up to offer help, but the actual implication was basically, she wanted to play before the furnace.

Weyland’s eyes too were glittering, for he could witness a miracle up close and personal.

“Fine by me. But if you get in our way, I’ll dump you into the furnace.”

“I’m used to that.”

Irine answered fearlessly, and went towards the furnace with Weyland.

“What about you?”

The boss sounded like he really wanted to shoo them all away at this moment.

“It’s a rare chance. Since it’s the moment a legend will be reborn, why not have a look?”

Kusla sought Fenesis’ opinion, and the boss raised his eyebrows at such callousness, while Fenesis looked a little hesitant.

 

“Huh, alchemist!”

In a certain sense, it was praise.

If the legendary ash was something different, that would make things interesting.

“E-erm…”

As she continued on, Fenesis asked,

“Are you not scared?”

“Of what? Failure’s failure.”

“…”

Fenesis shrugged slightly.

“You are really weird after all.”

“How?”

Fenesis stared at him without blinking.

“In that case, why do you fear my smile?”

Unexpectedly, she sounded as though she was reproaching him.

Fenesis was no doll. Perhaps whenever Kusla reacted clumsily, the gaudiness left her hurt.

Kusla glanced aside at Fenesis, and said with frustration,

“Why do I feel that when dressed up like this, you’re acting like how you look?”

The brat in male clothing looked down at her attire, before turning to Kusla again.

“I am used to my new clothes. Should you…not accept your change too?”

Her eyes were basically pleading for him to accept it.

As for why she became so bold, it was probably because she witnessed the relationship between Helena and Rihito.

People were often affected by why they saw.

However, Fenesis’ opinion was also correct.

“Just like poison.”

“…Eh?”

“Once you swallow, the you till this point will vanish...”

The poison he referred to was not about the blacksmith clothes, but more pertaining to the aphrodisiac. There was the fear that the ego he thought would not succumb to anything would easily change just because.

However, the craftsmen seeking the legendary ash were just looking into places they were familiar with, and never discovered the miracle. Sometimes, they needed courage to change their viewpoint, and their destination.

Fenesis lowered her head to ponder, and suddenly looked up at him.

“I heard that poison and medicine are the same.”

“…And so?”

“Why not try it?”

If she had said so with a taunting face, she might have been a demonic, vicious woman.

However, her long eyebrows were quivering, and she averted her eyes when he tried looking at her intently, probably due to embarrassment.

Kusla was speechless about his own incompetency. When they were on death’s door, Fenesis might not run away alone, and Kusla would have seriously considered an aphrodisiac to get her to escape. For this girl, she would choose to sacrifice herself so that Kusla’s life could be extended meaninglessly.

Since he tasted the poison, he might as well finish it up. Since he hurt someone, he might as well go all the way.

Luckily, the place was chaotic, and nobody paid heed to them.

“Those drunkards would always start with this.”

Kusla said, and reached his fingers at Fenesis’ chin, lifting it as he tasted this poisonous apple.

“…It tastes like a nun.”

“…”

Fenesis looked up at Kusla, and unexpectedly gave a reluctant smile.

“What do you mean?”

Kusla looked at Fenesis, and for some reason, he smiled.

It was probably out of self-deprecation, but it was still a smile.

And he suddenly felt that something clicked, that something was aligned.

“I feel this dressup looks good.”

He said it naturally.

Fenesis was shocked, and she reeled her neck in, smiling really happily,

“How sly you are.”

Kusla shrugged, and Fenesis cleared her throat, looking towards the furnace, saying,

“I shall go and help.”

“I’ll watch from afar then.”

Fenesis turned back to look, and did not look terribly forlorn. She smiled, nodded, and teetered off to the furnace. Kusla watched her leave, sat by a tree stump, and observed the craftsmen actions from afar

They were hastily creating fire in the furnace, chuffing the bellows hard. Irine and Weyland had completely blended with them, and it was unknown where they were. In an instant, Fenesis was the same. Kusla leisurely watched on.

In terms of the methods, the creation of glass was rather simple.

First, they would shatter bauxite rocks, and each piece had to be of similar size. Then, they would dump the ash along with it into the fiery furnace. It was said using grass ash could create glass at the same melting point as bronze, and greatly helped in the usage of fuel. By the standard process, the actual temperature had to be of the melting point of iron.

The glassmakers grabbed the ash brought to them in their hands, huddled around as they discussed.

Finally, they seemed to have made up their minds, to abide by their true nature of experimenting and adjusting, to try and see. They dumped the ash and the rock fragments in. It was a grand sight.

The boss then watched the color of the flame with a grim look, and at the same time, gave instructions to the craftsmen blowing air into the shaft. A skilled craftsman could determine the temperature required through the color of the flame.

At this moment, the sun began setting beyond the hills, and the furnace lights were the only ones lighting the place.

The moonless night meant that the forest was completely dark, like a bowl covering the head. The craftsmen were gathered together, watching the furnace silently as though a ritual was going on.

Initially, there was a voiceless reaction.

Then, their shock resonated, forming a huge wave that came from their mouths.

“Ohhh!”

“No way…!”

“It melted…at such a temperature…impossible!”

Flabbergasted exclamations echoed as the older craftsmen, Irine and Weyland never looked away from the furnace.

They had to observe the true appearance of the pixie clearly.

One could even sense the determination from them.

“This is temperature low enough to melt lead…”

Someone uttered in disbelief. After this, the craftsmen cautiously raised the temperature of the furnace, and there was clearly a sticky fluid inside. The tense atmosphere might have caused them to forget how much time had elapsed.

“Get the blow rod!”

The boss straightened his body, and gave the instruction. The craftsmen quickly got into action, picking up metal rods as tall as they. They were cylinders with openings on both ends, allowing for air to flow through.

“Rihito!”

The boss then called this name.

Rihito was an outstanding craftsman who knew his position and often did things in an obedient manner. This action might be the first and last folly from him. He crossed the wall he should not have, and brought back a miracle

He was standing at the edge of the onlookers, but in the darkness, one could see how messy his clothes were. It appeared he did not participate in this work, and the vibe he had was different from the other craftsmen. Perhaps it was due to Helena standing next to him, for his face was showing the poised confidence of someone who obtained his dreams, and would observe the real important things to him in the future, heading forth from there.

The boss said nothing else, and merely handed the rod over.

Rihito lowered his head, as though enduring some emotion as he received it.

“I’ll begin.”

He cautiously reached the rod into the furnace, and in a familiar motion, he appeared to be digging for something.

He controlled the rod skillfully, and there was a red in the furnace different from metal. Something soft like dough was being pulled out.

Everyone present said nothing.

All that could be heard was the rumbling of the flames.

It seemed even the creatures living in the forest were peeking at the furnace from the darkness.

“…”

Rihito never stopped working as he continued to spin the metal rod, churning the reddened surface at the tip into a beautiful ball.

He then slowly brought the tip of rod to his mouth, slowly exhaling on it.

The hand spinning the rod never stopped.

The melted glass was being injected with life. Or maybe, hope.

The glass quickly expanded, and Rihito put the rod down onto the desk next to him.

The dough attached to the tip was larger than the surface. Someone handed a leather glove over to Rihito, who used it to stroke the expanding dough in a gentle, loving manner, twirling the rod, shaping as though polishing it.

Then, with both hands, he grabbed the rod, puffing air into it.

He repeated the same motion twice, thrice, and there appeared an expanding object that was shockingly big.

A few craftsmen wielding shears immediately stood forth.

Rihito too took one shears, hurrying with his work before it hardened, his actions fluid like a dance.

The dough was severed from the edge, and the ball shaped object was cut.

A glossy, slightly red glass bloomed like flower, and it was laid out on the desk.

For a moment.

Was it over?

Those with no related knowledge would probably feel this way.

Nobody said anything.

All the things on the desk slowly lost the red luster, like creatures being suffocated.

Atop it was not the carcass of a pixie, nor was it the shrapnel of a dream. It was a block of glass, commonly seen, within reach, and clearly existing on this world.

“…”

Rihito looked towards the boss, who in turn was staring at the glass.

“It’s a miracle.”

He muttered to himself.

Then, he approached the work station, picking up the glass that was no longer red, but should be pretty hot. He ignored the dangerous sizzling sound as he raised the glass block.

“It’s a miracle! A miracle has happened! We’re saved! So little fuel! Look! This is real glass!”

The glassmakers’ cheers were like water gushing out of a collapsing dam.

“A miracle! It’s a miracle!!”

“The angel finally blessed us!”

They slapped Rihito’s shoulder violently. Weyland and Irine too were asked to hug and shake hands. Kusla was a little far away from time as he merely observed this scene.

There was only one person approaching him.

“It really is that ash.”

Kusla turned his eyes towards Fenesis.

She looked a little regretful.

“Why show that face?”

“…I do find it a pity not to see you flustered.”

You sure can talk. Kusla chuckled, and so did Fenesis.

The incredible miracle had him forgetting why he was unable to smile at Fenesis until this point.

“But it truly is unbelievable. That ash has such a use too. I never thought…it would be lead oxide. I saw it lots while learning about cupellation.”

Whenever one mentioned about ash, the common association would be wood and grass. However, there were many other things called ash. People however were often limited to their own worlds when thinking, only observing from where they stood. Such logic sounded so stinging to Kusla’s ears.

The craftsmen cheered once again.

It seemed someone brought out the wine.

“Lots of lead oxide is formed when smelting. If the glassmakers and blacksmiths never fought over the firewood, they would have discovered it a long time ago.”.”

“…This is why communication is very important.”

Kusla raised his lips mockingly as he heard her reproaching tone.

The other craftsmen were before the furnace, fighting over the right to create that miracle glass.

The boss continued to hold onto that piece of glass with one hand, the other embracing Rihito, and Helena too.

“That’s the legendary glass.”

It was clear like ice, a thoroughly beautiful block of glass.

It really resembled–

“It’s almost like a crystal. I think we should call it…a glass crystal.”

“That is too casual a name to call it…maybe the Annals might have named it such.”

“An aphrodisiac is called one after all. That’s how future generations end up calling it too.”

“…You care much for the appearance, yet act callous regarding the important matters. Unbelievable…you are a little weird after all.”

“Because I’m an alchemist.”

Kusla chuckled in response, and Fenesis shrugged like a girl who emphasized heavily on reality.

“Alright. The legend is revived, let’s talk about the reality now.”

Kusla said, and went over to the spies. They were standing at the furthest point from where the furnace light could shine upon them.

Finding the skills themselves was a pointless act.

Applying the skill would make it meaningful.

This might also apply to relationships between people, so Kusla thought as he held onto Fenesis’ hand, not remembering when he did.

Epilogue

The use of the legendary ash greatly reduced the fuel consumption needed for the glass production. It had a direct relation to the massive profits, and by using such wealth, they were able to reach a mutual conciliation with the town. However, the method was far from a miracle, smelly and musky.

Lead oxide is also known as mirdasang, something that would always occur when smelting metals containing lead. It was also a common occurrence in cupellation of gold and silver, a familiar ash to blacksmiths and jewelers. Thus, the legend had blatantly stated it was no miracle ash. The Ancients had no intention to hide. They never expected to be so misunderstood.

In any case, it was a really common item, so many that it was rotting away in a blacksmith’s shop. The glassmakers proposed to the blacksmiths, indicating their willing to purchase the ash at high prices, so it was easy to pull the blacksmiths along. The saved fuel could then be offered for use in the town.

It was said the priest was trying to stoke the flames again, hoping to redirect their focus, but the blacksmith guild, the biggest in town, had succumbed, so he too remained powerless.

Thus, the matter of expelling the glassmakers became nothing.

The main intermediaries between the town and the glassmakers were the spies. The latter did so, with the objective to infiltrate deep into the town for intel.

Kusla had no interest in such things, and he spent an entire day browsing through the scrolls he borrowed from the glassmakers’ boss. It depicted the legend of an angel.

If it was not a metaphor of a forest fire, there were still two startling matters that remained unsolved.

An envoy descended from the heavens, summoning the sun.

Each legend seemed so utterly ridiculous, but there was a unique stone on the table Kusla rested his feet on, one given by the boss

Kusla obtained this rock at the forest workplace. Weyland and Irine learned that lead oxide could decrease the fuel consumption by half, and by changing the temperature of the ash, the texture of the glass would change. Their curiosity was perked, so they joined the glassmakers, toiling all night long.

Kusla helped a little, hoping to learn some useful knowledge, but he was slowly unable to catch up to their fanatical passion, so he gave up early and went into the hut to rest. It was on this night that he obtained the stone.

Fenesis had fallen asleep early, wincing and groaning in agony. Kusla sat next to her, sighing.

There were many people in this messy hut, and they did not fall asleep simply because they wanted to.

It’s like a festival, so he thought.

Suddenly, the boss appeared, and silently handed over this strange looking stone.

“This is?”

Kusla asked, and the boss looked down at him gaudily, answering tersely,

“My ancestor picked it, saying it’s a fragment of the sun. It was said it was retrieved secretly when the miracle happened.”

Kusla gasped. If that was really the case, he was holding a piece of the legend.

“The ones who know most on thi world are the merchants who trade to faraway places. I asked them, and they said they discovered it in hot areas, but that’s all they know. I don’t know what the purpose is. However, by throwing it into the fire, the colors of the flames will become really strange. This isn’t normal.”

The stone resembled more like a salt rock and a stone itself, a crystal of something.

Kusla had a detailed look, and put it into his pocket.

“I’ll notify you if we find out what it is.”

“No need.”

The boss coldly responded.

“We’re not going to daydream.”

He was sounding like a practitioner, but Kusla had to ask,

“Then what about the young fellows who like to daydream?”

Kusla’s presence at this place was due him getting tangled in the red thread linking Helena and Rihito.

“As long as it’s not a daydream, anything goes.”

“Ah?”

“If we can reconcile with the town…they can do as they please. We’ll be off to a different land for a few years, but we’ll return. If the bond breaks just like this, they aren’t suited to be together. Besides, our wives went through long days of separations.”

Helena remained in Yazon, and in a few years, they would meet again. If it was known that he would return, this long distance love might not be impossible.

Others were calling for the boss, who then hurried over quickly.

However, the boss stopped, and slowly turned around.

“Thank you for the miracle.”

Kusla shrugged, and the boss said nothing more as he left.

Two others witnessed this scene, side by side.

Naturally, they were Helena and Rihito.

They looked from the boss to Kusla, fidgeting. Kusla would feel annoyed to receive their thanks, so he waved his hand, gesturing for them not to follow him

Both of them bowed, while still holding hands.

Goodness gracious. All Kusla could only do was sigh.

And after that, they learned the gist of glassmaking, and hurried back to the town. However, they were not in a hurry to leave, for they had to gather information on the next location, along with the ongoing negotiations. Thus, they took the opportunity to relax

From time to time, Kusla looked out at the town of Yazon through the window, and found the traffic increasingly bustling. One would have a sense, that the Knights were regaining their lands successfully.

“Ah, you are putting your feet on the table again. Please put them down. I bought lunch.”

Fenesis, who went out shopping, returned with loaves and meat in hand.

Kusla put his feet down, and Fenesis’ eyes were attracted by something.

“What is that little bottle?”

“Hm? Ah! That fool Weyland brought it.”

“It is a pretty glass vial…does it contain some oils?”

“It’s an aphrodisiac.”

“Eh!”

Fenesis, who had wanted to pick the vial up, immediately stopped.

“I really have no idea what the imbecile is trying to do. But since I heard mandrakes are in short supply, the effects should be rather weak…seems like he tested it.”

“…”

Fenesis’ face froze.

“It’s in poor taste, but pretty potent.”

Fenesis backtracked and maintained some distance, as though approaching it would bring about calamity.

“Ah, just to say this first. Be careful when using it.”

“Eh? I-I will not be using it!”

“Don’t they say that people say differently when guilty?”

Kusla leered, and Fenesis shivered, as though the demon was approaching her.

“Enough with the jokes. This medicine can be used as a painkiller. It’s very potent.”

“Pain, killer?”

“Like when you’re heavily injured. You need to ensure the injured is free from pain, so that he can die peacefully, like a dream. Then, there’s fractures and tooth removals. Lots of times, it’s not fatal, but the feeling is that death is better than living with pain. In a certain sense, being tortured in a love that won’t be fulfilled is about the same thing.”

Kusla tapped at the vial with his finger, and it tilted slightly. It was an ointment synthesized from dangerous plants like Hyoscyamine, Belladonna, along with some herbs and pork fat.

“One day, I might need to use it.”

“…I am…not thinking about this possibility.”

“If you don’t think of it, it won’t happen. If that happens, that’ll be great.”

Saying that, he uncorked the vial to have a look.

“Wa-wait!”

“I’m not using it. Also, it’s ointment. It can’t be eaten.”

“…Eh?”

Fenesis looked surprised. She assumed it was to be drunk.

“Being presumptuous is dangerous. You drink it, and the effects will kill you. So it’s applied as an ointment.”

“……”

While the existence of the aphrodisiac left her terrified, she was still brimming with curiosity.

After hearing such a realistic explanation, she showed some interest.

“Those that help to cool the body temperature, agitates a person, or calms a person down are all to be consumed. This is to be applied though. Don’t get this mistaken.”

“I-I know that.”

Fenesis answered, tilting her pretty face as she observed her palms and other places.

Would one fall for another by applying on the skin? It might be hard to imagine. It seemed that to change one’s heart, one would have to reach the inside state of the body.

“I know what you’re thinking, but the places to apply are a little different.”

“Places?”

“Well, use of this ointment is somewhat between drinking and applying. Doesn’t the human body have such places?”

“Eh…yes?”

“The parts of the body that will be exposed. Like eyes, nostrils, mouth.”

Kusla counted as he folded his fingers, and Fenesis was startled to hear the answer,

“The rectum, and the crotch——”

“A-a-a-erm! Wh-wh-what are you saying?”

“The medicine. Logically, an aphrodisiac should be treated similarly as wine. The difference is just whether the effects are good or not. However, the biggest issue is the usage.”

Kusla smiled, staring at Fenesis.

“Do you know why when we mention the strange aphrodisiac, we associate it with witches?”

“…”

She might have known Kusla would follow up with some malicious teasing.

But due to her curiosity, she did not run away. Aphrodisiac, witches; these two things were often lumped together.

And there was a reason for that? Was it not a myth since ancient times?

Kusla explained to her,

“While this medicine’s meant to stop pain, it’s more like a hallucination. It’s said to get the user excited, like flying in the air.”

“…In…the air? Bu-but…”

“So what’s the tool witches are always using?”

“Eh…the…broom…?”

“Right. Don’t you find it weird? Why can they fly with brooms? Birds don’t need to step over brooms.”

Fenesis was stunned. The naïve brat was trudging closer and closer to the trap.

So Kusla rested his head on his hands, elbows on the table as he smiled gently,

“I’ll be honest then. It’s to be applied, inside the body. It gives a hallucination, it stops pain, and gives a feeling of flight. People say it’s invented by witches, and witches always fly while riding on brooms. Now you understand how the medicine works?”

“Eh? Eh?”

The simple-minded, direct Fenesis started thinking of what she should do, as though she was working on alchemy.

She picked up an imaginary broom, and while trying to cross over, she stopped.

Kusla withstood the urge to snicker.

Where would she apply it at? How? Surely she tried to imagine. Most likely, she understood the reason why witches fly on brooms.

Fenesis’ face reddened increasingly, and one would have a feeling, she would have fainted just like that.

“You still can’t use it, child.”

Kusla chuckled, and Fenesis seemed to have gotten the hint.

She lifted her head, covering her mouth as though suppressing her shrieks, her eyes teary.

Her face, and even her hands were completely red.

Kusla bared his teeth, laughing.

“Hahaha. Seems like you can’t become a witch.”

He chortled, as though it had been years since he did so.

Fenesis burst into tears as she was overly embarrassed, her body quivering. Finally, something seemed to snap, and she opened her mouth to inhale so loudly.

“You really! Really! Really are deplorable!”

She lashed out at him with all her mind, and darted out of the room.

Despite that, Kusla remained seated on the chair, laughing a little while, looking relaxed as he glanced over at the glass vial.

“That Weyland…saying to use this to enjoy.”

Kusla scratched his head, sighing. He knew why Fenesis was outraged. Even he too was left uneasy seeing this bottle.

Also, he had many considerations on whether he should use the medicine on Helena, and one reason was the method to use it.

“…Now that is really…frivolous.”

Kusla muttered in a huff. If he had used this medicine on Fenesis, surely it would be a scene even alchemists would be left intimidated by.

Feeling peeved, he continued to think, but someone opened the door without knocking.

“Ahhh I’m hungry. Ul bought food for us…huh?”

It was Irine, but she was taken aback to find only Kusla there.

“I don’t know where she went.”

“…I see that you angered her again. You never learn.”

Seeing Irine dumbfounded, Kusla decided to vent his frustrations.

He stood up from the table, and laid his hand on Irine’s shoulder.

“It’s no wonder she’s angry. All because that bastard Weyland made such a bad joke.”

“Eh?”

“Throw away the bottle on the table.”

“Eh?”

“Listen. Don’t ever drink it. You’ll die. It’s for applying.”

“Eh? Ah?”

“Some contact on the skin should be fine. Please, throw it into the furnace. Burn it all to ashes.”

Kusla mercilessly said these words, took the lunch Fenesis bought, and left the room. Irine remained rooted as she looked back and forth between Kusla and the bottle.

It was probably Weyland’s prank. Not a real aphrodisiac.

However, Irine would surely be left flustered before the bottle. Just imagining her reaction quelled the scorching feeling churning in the stomach by a little.

More importantly, Fenesis was most likely hiding in a corner of the garden, all shriveled up.

He slowly moved down the corridor, watching the blue sky beyond the ajar wooden window. He put his elbow there; there were many problems that could be be resolved simply with alchemy, and it seemed joy was not just limited to alchemy.

He lowered his sights, and as expected, there was a girl huddled up in a corner of the courtyard. Perhaps she had hoped to be discovered to be begin with.

People of this world are always hypnotized by such joyous things, so he leered sarcastically.

He did not however mock those who never accepted the legend of the angel wholeheartedly.

While Spring remained far, it was a warm, sunny day after a long while.

Afterword

Thank you all for the care shown till this point. This is Isuna Hasekura. I guess I blurted this out because I always start off with this in my emails. Only today did I notice this. Thank you all for the care shown till this point. This is Isuna Hasekura.

Compared to the previous volume, this one is a little delayed, but surprisingly, I was not playing games. Instead, this might be the busiest time I ever had since I debuted as an author. The number of books released in a year had not increased. So, what was I busy about? To note, I will still be busy, and I’m wondering if someone’s holding the on switch in my mind the entire time, making it seem that I’m busy the entire time. My recent wish has been to turn this switch off, to not plan any work for a year. Once I get a year’s worth of vacation, I’ll just end up thinking, writing this, writing that, like I’m looking for novel themes, and then I’ll end up seeing through the shallow idea of using my vacation plans as part of my work. Guess having a long vacation to break free from work is a talent. Also, right now, what I really want to do is to visit Shikoku. Then when I visit the first shrine and find my bag heavy, I’ll find something with beast ears inside (etc).

After this, I’ll just read up on genres I never touched before. Actually, when I stand before the books in the bookstore, I would most likely be bothered by something, so I might as well just choose a number, look up the NDC (the number used to categorize books, often shown on the spine), and read something related. I won’t know what delight I’ll find! On a side note, this story was due to an inspiration I got when thinking about this. It’s sometimes important to discuss perspective changes.

Another thing I wanted to do was to try learning some new skills. After 1000 hours, even if one can’t be an expert, at least he learned. However, the thing I realized was that there’s a prerequisite, that I have to find something I’m willing interested in, willing to spend 1000 hours on. I’m a little worried, wondering if I would end up being an expert at looking for blue birds or something, but I guess it’s a long journey. I guess the story I’m writing is about seeking, pursuing something. What exactly am I looking for? Maybe the manuscript for the next volume. A year’s worth of vacation, or a dream within a dream…

So, now that I wrote this much, I’m done with the pages, time to set the pen aside. The characters’ clothing has changed greatly, and I’ll really like to take Nabeshima-san for making them more attractive than ever! Fenesis is really cute!

Let us meet together in the next volume then.

Isuna Hasekura.

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