Chapter 63: Is the Journey Smooth?

A scrawny old man places a candle-shaped mold inside a cast-iron container and scoops soil into it.

Next, he presses and packs the soil firmly so that it doesn’t crumble or spread.

Once the female mold is complete, he places another cast-iron container on top to create the male mold, again scooping in soil and packing it tight.

Then, after carefully removing the female mold and pulling out the shaping mold…

The male mold is finished.

Its center clearly bore the shape of a candlestick.

Because the design was complex and would take a considerable amount of time to craft by hand, the old man had mentioned he was experimenting with this method.

Afterward, he continues the process of soot-coating, searing the two casting molds as if baking them in the flames.

Then, he assembles them back into one.

“Bring it! Pour it in, quickly!”

At the old man’s roar-like command, a rugged young man came rushing over.

In both hands, he held long iron tongs.

Clamped in those tongs was a cast-iron container the size of a cup.

As he carefully poured the contents into the casting hole, glowing red liquid flowed through the small gaps.

The molten iron, entering between the male and female molds, finally began to solidify into the desired shape.

As white smoke filled the small workshop…

The male mold was stripped away, and as the contents were lifted out with tongs, the overlying soil crumbled away, revealing a candlestick that stretched out like a long tree branch.

“Hmm.”

The old man examined it closely, rotating the tongs without so much as a blink despite the intense heat.

“Gold or silver might need to be packed by hand, but for iron, we can just stamp them out like this from now on. Don’t you agree?”

“As expected of you, Grandfather.”

“Do I have to look after your futures? Instead of learning and mastering things on your own!”

The old man clicked his tongue and shook his head.

“You there, kid. What do you think?”

“Me?”

A black-haired boy.

His attire was as dark as could be, but in contrast, his eyes were as bright as if they were cast in gold.

Kariel watched the process silently and tilted his head.

“Why are you so interested in handling lumps of iron? Don’t you get bored?”

“I thought that by knowing this, I could grasp the properties of earth, rock, and metal.”

“You’re not even an Alchemist, yet your intuition is fixated on something so useless.”

So young, yet already obsessed with the eccentric.

The old man rambled on with words that were half-admonition, half-sermon, but his voice soon faded.

“If there’s enough molten iron, I could easily churn out ten of these a day.”

At the old man’s words, his grandson, the young man, asked back with a troubled face.

“Even if you make that many, where would we sell them, and where would we get that much iron?”

“That’s your job, why should I care? You have to sell a lot if you want to become that damn rich man or tycoon you’re always talking about! Am I wrong?!”

“Aha. Well… I suppose so.”

“You said you didn’t want to spend your old age touching iron like me, right? Then use your head! Your head!”

For instance, the old man was in the process of developing techniques that allowed someone to create things even without being a master craftsman.

And he claimed this was merely a hobby.

He had been a famous master in the past, but after the Demon King’s Army invasion ended and peace returned, he had spent his time making farm tools, convenience gadgets, and occasionally pieces of jewelry.

“You’re a peculiar one too,” the old man grumbled, looking at Kariel.

“Why is that?”

“I thought for sure you were going to pester me to make a legendary sword. But you seem to have absolutely no interest in that.”

“Swords are consumables. What difference would a legendary sword make? Rather, if one cherishes and clings to it because it’s precious, wouldn’t it be more of a problem when the time comes to discard or let go of it?”

“The arrogant knights would scream at you if they heard that… but yes. You’re right.”

It was a deeply rude thing to say to the craftsman who made them… but it was better than people dying.

The old man added in a complaining tone, “But you’re leaving soon?”

“Yes. I was told the ship I’m taking was delayed a bit due to some circumstances. The guide as well.”

“…Do you really not need a sword?”

“Yes. I promised, didn’t I? That I would only watch. I wanted to understand the properties of earth, rock, and iron.”

Along with that, he had also realized the importance of heat treatment and temperature.

He hadn’t expected that simply watching the handling of metal would lead to such a comprehensive realization.

As always, life in this world never seems to go according to expectation or plan.

“What a strange fellow.”

To pay money just to watch—there was no oddball like this one.

If he were trying to steal techniques, it would be a different story.

…But the boy had already shown that he wasn’t that kind of scoundrel.

A few more days passed.

If yesterday was spent making an iron candlestick through the casting process—or whatever it was called—the next day was spent watching the old man hand-craft silver candlesticks and teapots. For three whole days, Kariel had to watch with wide eyes as he tinkered with them.

It was a different sight from when he handled iron.

The old man explained that this was natural, as the properties of silver differed from iron.

“I’m going to sell these for a high price. That’s why I put in this much effort.”

One must design and create based on the client’s requirements.

To be more meticulous, one would first create a simple wooden model to show the client, and then proceed to manufacture it.

The cost is then raised to account for that extra labor.

Even making a cup isn’t just about a simple cylinder; if patterns or engravings are added, the cost rises accordingly.

If the crests of a Noble Household, a guild, or a specific organization are drawn or shown beforehand, it’s not entirely impossible to even apply colors.

…That was the old man’s explanation.

A true artisan.

In fact, it would be no exaggeration to call him a Renowned Master.

Contrary to his shabby appearance, everything was crafted perfectly from his rough, weathered hands, provided there was enough time and material.

He was truly a hermit, known yet unknown to the world.

A Renowned Master known only to those in the know.

“Child. What on earth are you learning or realizing while watching me work?”

“Unnaturalness? Artificial formative beauty?”

“You lunatic. You’ve gone completely mad.”

The old man burst into laughter and openly showered him with curses.

“…”

Kariel only let out a bitter smile.

Lightly accepting the malice-free criticism, Kariel announced that today was his last day.

“If I get the chance later, I might order a few things from you.”

“Go get married first. Don’t go wandering around and meet a sudden death. You look perfectly fine, so why do you act like the whole world is dying?”

With those farewells, Kariel left the village’s only workshop.

“Have you arrived?”

It had already been a week since he came here.

A small village located near the valley.

Though it belonged to the Imperial territory, it was so small that he wondered if it was even marked on a map.

If there was one defining feature of this place, it was that it had a small ferry landing where boats could dock.

It wasn’t a proper pier.

However, if one traveled far down from this village, they would reach the distant sea, or the city connected to the Osmillan Valley that led into the center of the continent.

Amalang, a bishopric city under Bahamilla County, was located there, so most people traveling up the river from the sea—or vice versa—would dock their boats there to handle most of their business.

If Philbar hadn’t been there, he might have followed the original plan of crossing the Brut Mountains and then taking a small ferry where the current was manageable, or as a last resort, crossing the river on foot.

However.

Since he could take a boat from here and go straight up the river, he could bypass the Dabas Kingdom and head directly into the Metran Kingdom’s territory.

After some deliberation, he decided to follow Philbar’s advice.

In the end, this was clearly the more efficient route.

There would be checkpoints since there were trading posts along the way… but he could simply stay on the boat.

Even if such a situation arose, Philbar had already provided him with a separate identity, so it was believed it wouldn’t be a major problem.

“This fellow should be here by now… surely he isn’t lost.”

Anyway.

While discussing this with Philbar, the topic of whether he should disguise himself came up.

Kariel felt it wasn’t necessary for now.

To be precise, at the point of leaving the Empire, he didn’t care whether his location was known or not.

Philbar had advised him to avoid exposing his identity as much as possible, as it would be troublesome if it became known that he was a Knight of Radiance, and specifically the son of the Hero.

…But that was a meaningless piece of advice.

Besides.

‘My face isn’t that famous.’

He wasn’t being overly optimistic, but honestly, even if he were a celebrity, he doubted people would recognize him easily…

“Ah, there he is.”

Just then.

Since Philbar had insisted on personally introducing the guide before leaving, he had also been tied down here for about a week.

During that time, he seemed to have much to do, as he never let a pen or brush leave his hand.

The massive Four-Seat Carriage parked next to the village inn was bound to attract attention.

However, people are quick to realize that getting involved with high-ranking officials or nobles is tiring, so most simply watched from afar or passed by.

Therefore.

If someone approached openly as if they had business here, it meant they definitely had a connection to this party.

“…”

The first impression was… small.

Everything below the face was covered by a thick, navy-blue robe.

It seemed to have considerable weight, as it hardly fluttered even when the wind blew.

Thump, thump.

Judging by the clumsy sound of the footsteps, the shoes were likely not ordinary.

Were they boots with iron heels?

If they were solid iron boots, they wouldn’t make that kind of sound.

Short, light purple hair, as if a piece of lavender’s intensity had been carved out.

The eyes were a silver color close to white, and the overall appearance was relatively ordinary.

Depending on the expression, it was a look that could be perceived as cute.

As for whether the person was male or female, one look at the face made it certain they were female.

However, thanks to an impression that was even more indifferent and blunt than Kariel’s own, the first impression felt very cold.

“Edenlevan Regiment, Blood-Sharing Family Well-being Association, Second Prince Philbar Asubna. Is that correct?”

“Yes. If you’ve come looking for him, you’ve come to the right place. I am he!”

Second Prince.

To a human, it would feel like a proof of extremely high status, but a prince among their race differed somewhat from that of humans or other races.

It signified a sort of legitimate successor of the bloodline.

However, for those who could live nearly—though not quite—eternally, the highest value was the maintenance and protection of the fundamental bloodline.

And the original value and purpose given to that bloodline.

When the fundamental value was measured by how well one performed, led, and protected that purpose…

The King or Head of Household of each bloodline corresponded to the leader of the organization or group leading them.

In other words, being the Second Prince here meant a status and rank that had successfully performed the values of that bloodline.

“I would like to confirm the details of the request.”

“According to the client’s request, safely transport the guest to the destination. Provide personal protection and convenience. In the event of an inevitability, provide sufficient explanation and the reason for the detour to both the guest and the client simultaneously.”

“Hmm, excellent.”

Philbar clapped his hands and then turned to Kariel.

“With this friend, you will be able to move secretly to your desired destination.”

“…”

Kariel looked for a moment at the girl, who was about a head shorter than him, and spoke.

“I look forward to working with you.”

“I’m younger, so just speak casually,” the girl demanded in a cold tone.

“I detest it when words are unnecessarily long.”

“Hahaha… she’s a bit lacking in social skills, but please just know that she is just as capable. This is the truth.”

Kariel nodded.

“I don’t doubt it.”

Only.

“…”

He just felt a bit sorry for those two eyes, which were as cold as frost.

But pitying her would be an insult.

“She will have arranged the boat, so just follow her. She may request various things as needed, but since those are all requirements based on her duty, please comply as much as possible unless it’s too difficult.”

“…”

Kariel nodded obediently.

“Well then! I’m off! I wish you all a pleasant and safe journey!”

The Four-Seat Carriage drove away from the village, kicking up clouds of dust.

As the two of them watched the scene for a moment…

“So, what do we do now?” Kariel asked.

The girl replied, “I’m going to fill my stomach first.”

Huh?

“I’ve starved for two days. When arriving at a place like this, one must always fill their stomach. This is a priority.”

“…Right.”

Kariel nodded obediently.

He thought they could gradually introduce themselves.

He took it lightly.

But then, as he watched her eat without stopping for two hours, he found himself laughing.

After eating for a long while, the girl revealed her name during a lull in the food.

“I’m Luirin. I have no surname. What should I call you?”

“…”

Kariel answered briefly.

“El.”

“That’s hard to call. In an emergency, it’s too short and the nuance is inappropriate, so I predict it will be difficult for rapid communication. E~e—el! See? The tongue hits the roof of the mouth. Don’t you feel how the voice naturally gets sucked back into the throat?”

“…”

Kariel was momentarily speechless as she opened her mouth and even showed her tongue.

If that’s the case.

“Call me Riel.”

“Are you a girl?”

“…”

“…My apologies.”

He wondered if it was just his imagination, but he had a feeling the journey would not be entirely smooth.