Elsa came to a halt after walking for a while within the Razgrim domain.
"For real? Isn't this road a bit too nice?"
The highways of the Kingdom of Valsein she had traveled to get here were often marred by deep wagon ruts, and it wasn't unusual to lose one's footing in the mud after a rain. However, the moment she had crossed the domain border, the road had widened and was even paved with gravel. Drainage ditches were dug along the sides, and a little further ahead, laborers were filling in damaged spots with fresh soil. There was heavy wagon traffic, carrying not only grain and timber but even carts fully loaded with stone.
"I thought this place would be a wasteland..."
She had only heard the name Razgrim for the first time after entering this kingdom. Having heard it was far from the royal capital, she had naturally imagined a desolate, rundown territory.
Seeing three soldiers approaching from the front, Elsa instinctively pulled her luggage toward her right side. In the domains she had passed through so far, there had been soldiers who stopped travelers to demand spare change. These three were all large, and one even had a scar on his cheek.
However, far from blocking her path, the lead soldier moved slightly to the side upon noticing her.
"A traveler? If you're heading to town, just keep straight down this road. You should make it before sunset. There’s a rest area along the way where you can get some water, so don't push yourself too hard."
"O-Oh... thanks."
The soldier's gaze shifted to her left arm for a fleeting moment. Even so, he asked nothing and simply continued walking with his companions.
"...They look scary, but they’re surprisingly decent."
Elsa watched their receding backs for a moment before heading toward the town again.
◇
Upon arriving in town, the first thing Elsa looked for wasn't an inn, but work. She had little money left; even if she could afford a bed tonight, it wouldn't matter if she had no food tomorrow.
When she asked about a forge at the market, a woman selling charcoal immediately pointed the way.
"The forges are on the street over there. Everyone’s busy right now. The roads are being fixed, warehouses are being added, and with the increase in wagons, there’s nothing but a backlog of repairs, from farming tools to horse tack."
"...Business seems to be booming around here."
"It’s like this now, but it was terrible after the predecessor fell ill, you know? Roads were left full of holes... jobs were disappearing, yet they’d come around to collect taxes like clockwork. Apparently, the people in the manor were doing whatever they pleased."
Another woman nearby, who was arranging vegetables, joined the conversation and happily shared the news of how the new duke had just taken over. To the people of the domain, the fact that life had become easier was more significant than the peerage itself.
"And then, as soon as Lord Vain inherited the headship, he kicked that whole lot out, didn't he? It was terrifying back then. Rumors even spread that a monstrous lord had taken over... but the reality was the opposite. He defers taxes for houses that can't pay, and the roadwork jobs have increased. Life is much easier for us than before."
However, Elsa couldn't believe her ears at the next piece of gossip.
"I heard that in the royal capital, there’s even a rumor that he turned down a marriage proposal from the Queen."
"Is that true? No matter how great Lord Vain is, what was he thinking, turning down a marriage with the Queen?"
"Who knows? But well... it is Lord Vain."
Both women went back to work as if that explanation settled everything.
Elsa was left standing there.
"...He turned down a marriage with the Queen? What is with the duke of this domain?"
He fixes the roads, defers taxes, and increases jobs—and then he goes and rejects a proposal from the Queen.
She couldn't tell if he was sensible or just eccentric.
When she reached the forge she had been told about, her pace slowed for a different reason. She would likely be judged for her left arm again and told it was impossible. In the Holy City, they had even pinned the responsibility for the accident on her, and in other workshops, her bad reputation had arrived before she did. Since entering this kingdom, while people didn't know her history, she had been rejected many times simply because she lacked a left arm.
Even so, she was hungry. Elsa stepped into the workshop, which smelled of iron and soot.
"Um... I'm looking for work. You can see I’ve only got one arm, right...? I won't ask to do the smithing, so I'll do cleaning or carry charcoal. In exchange, just give me food and pay for the work I do...!"
A man in his fifties standing before the forge glanced at Elsa's left arm once and then jerked his chin toward the back of the workshop. There were piles of farming tools waiting to be sharpened and broken horse tack.
"What's this? A brat...? I haven't had time to handle the chores. I suppose I could use you for carrying charcoal and cleaning. But don't you dare touch the tools. I can't have a one-armed brat breaking a customer's property!...I'm so busy right now I'd take a cat's help if it had thumbs."
The Master Blacksmith didn't show even a hint of pity upon seeing Elsa's left arm.
"I'm not doing this out of sympathy, got it? There's too much work with the roads and warehouses. If you can carry charcoal and sweep the floor, I don't care if you've only got one arm."
His tone was irritating. If it were the usual Elsa, she would have snapped the moment she was looked down upon, but right now, one phrase resonated in her heart more than any other.
—I suppose I could use you.
"...Eh?...You'll hire me?"
The Master Blacksmith furrowed his brows as if she were being a nuisance.
"What, you don't want the job? Then—"
"I'll do it! I'll do it! I'll do charcoal, cleaning, anything!"
She spoke with a voice that was surprisingly loud even to herself.
She had lost count of how many workshops she had visited since leaving the Holy City. Some shook their heads the moment they saw her arm, some laughed when she said she used to be a blacksmith, and there were places where she was told to leave before she could even open her mouth.
She had expected the same here.
And yet, for the first time, she had been given a job.
It didn't have to be smithing... right now, a broom or a charcoal basket was fine. If she worked, she could eat, and she could come back here tomorrow. Above all, she hadn't been told she wasn't needed.
If she relaxed, her face would surely break into an embarrassing expression, so Elsa hurriedly pressed her lips together. Even so, she couldn't stop the corners of her mouth from turning up.
"...I'll work hard! Um... thank you."
"Save the thanks for after you've worked! First, carry that charcoal."
"I know!"
Her steps toward the charcoal basket were much lighter than when she had entered the workshop.
The Master Blacksmith glanced at Elsa before pointing to five swords kept in a corner of the workshop, covered with a cloth.
"Also, don't ever touch those. They're items entrusted to us by House Razgrim."
Having heard that, Elsa stayed away.
Right now, she didn't care about work for the ducal house.
She had found a place where she could work. That was enough.
◇
Five days had passed since she began working. She carried charcoal, swept the floor, and prepared the requested tools with one hand. She was fed, and though it was a small amount, she had begun to save money. Even so, the sound of the hammer echoing nearby every day was painful. Seeing the heated iron, she knew the right moment to strike; hearing the sound of a blade being sharpened, she could sense even a slight difference in angle; yet all she held were brooms or charcoal baskets.
That evening, the Master Blacksmith was repairing an old machete entrusted to him by a farmer. Seeing him about to apply the whetstone to the chipped blade, Elsa tried to stay quiet several times, but in the end, she couldn't hold back.
"...That spot's already been resharpened several times, hasn't it? If you shave it from the edge again, it’ll get too thin. If you don't fix the warping first, it'll just chip again right away."
The Master Blacksmith stopped his work and glared at her.
"Brat! You're still just an apprentice who carries charcoal and sweeps floors. If you have time to meddle in someone else's business, finish your own jobs."
"Hah?! It’s obvious if you just look at it! If you do it like that—"
"I get it, so pick up the broom. In a forge, a hammer is more trusted than words."
She was incredibly frustrated, but she didn't want to be kicked out. Elsa swallowed her pride and grabbed the broom roughly. The Master Blacksmith turned back to the machete, but after a while, he stopped the whetstone, held the blade up to the light, and gave a small click of his tongue.
The next morning, an old, unsheathed dagger was placed at Elsa's feet as she was sweeping the floor.
"You talked pretty big yesterday. Try fixing this. It's a piece of junk that's not even worth selling, so I don't care if you break it... if you're not all talk, show me with the hammer. Don't use your single hand as an excuse."
The Master Blacksmith didn't even look at her as he shoveled charcoal into the furnace.
"Fine... I'll do it. Don't come asking for it back later!"
Standing before the furnace for the first time in a long while, her heart raced. Since she couldn't hold the tongs with her left hand, she secured the dagger in a fixture and only asked for the Master Blacksmith's help when she needed to change its orientation. Even if she couldn't use the same methods as before, she could see the color of the iron, hear the resonance, and swing the hammer with her right arm.
Clang—Clang— The sound she couldn't forget no matter how hard she tried echoed through the workshop.
"...Yeah, this is it!"
By the time she finished the final touches, she was drenched in sweat.
The Master Blacksmith took the dagger and repeatedly changed his grip while holding the blade up to the light.
"Well? You still going to tell me to just clean?"
"...You're slow. You won't be able to get through much volume like this."
The inside of her chest went cold instantly.
So it was no good after all.
However, the Master Blacksmith set the dagger down and brought over two blades waiting for repair, lining them up in front of Elsa.
"Do these starting tomorrow. But only the ones I give permission for. If you touch anything without asking, you're out."
Elsa stared at the two blades in front of her, unable to look up immediately.
It wasn't a charcoal basket or a broom.
It was work given to a blacksmith.
"...Does that mean... you've recognized me?"
"Don't get cocky! You haven't even made it back to being half a blacksmith yet."
Even though they were words that would usually make her angry, her joy won out this time. Turning her face away because she didn't want him to see her expression, she gently pulled the two blades toward herself.
"H-Hmph. Don't blame me if you end up wanting to leave everything to me eventually."
Since losing her left arm, she had been told countless times that it was impossible, that she was useless, and that she should give up. But she was so happy that someone had finally handed her the next piece of work that she was at a loss for words.
The food that day tasted exceptionally good.
◇
By the time a few more days had passed, the Master Blacksmith had finished four of the five swords entrusted to him by House Razgrim. Because the last one had been resharpened many times, the thickness of the blade was uneven, and there was a warp in the hilt. Elsa intended to stay silent, but when the Master Blacksmith reached for the whetstone, she once again couldn't help herself.
"...You shouldn't sharpen that sword normally. If you're going to shave it, you have to fix this part first, or it'll just go bad again right away."
"This was entrusted to us by the Duke. It's not a sword for you to test your skills on."
"I know that! That's why I'm telling you. Reheat it after fixing this, and you should take the hilt off once. It'll still be usable then."
The Master Blacksmith didn't answer, checking the sword himself.
In the end, he didn't give it to Elsa that day.
However, the next morning, the Master Blacksmith arrived holding that very sword.
"...Brat. Explain the method you were talking about yesterday one more time."
When she explained the procedure, the Master Blacksmith questioned her several times along the way, checking the blade and hilt himself. Without saying whether he was convinced or not, he groaned for a while before placing the sword on the workbench.
"I'll watch you from start to finish. If I think it's even slightly beyond you, I'm taking over... if you're fine with that, you do it."
"Eh?!...Are you really... okay with me doing it...?"
The voice that escaped her was surprisingly weak. This wasn't a piece of junk that wouldn't matter if she failed. It was a sword entrusted by House Razgrim. He was about to entrust her with a job that the very reputation of this workshop rested upon.
The Master Blacksmith furrowed his brows.
"If you can't do it, I will."
"I can! Of course I can! Don't take it away later!"
The moment she received the sword, heat surged deep within her chest. This time, it wasn't a test. She had been entrusted with a job properly, as a blacksmith.
For the first time since losing her left arm, she was beyond happy for such a natural thing.
—Here, I might be able to live as a blacksmith again, Elsa thought.