The Founding Festival was less than a month away.
Moving three hundred men to the royal capital would drain my coffers as it was. When I factored in food, wagons, fodder for the horses, and encampments along the way, there was absolutely no room to spend money recklessly on equipment. While the Kingdom supposedly provided the military camp and water source during the tournament, the logistical costs to get everything there wouldn't just vanish.
"We can make the armor look uniform by having the men wear surcoats in the colors of House Razgrim over their gear... but even if the armor is old, it shouldn't be an issue as long as it's properly maintained, right?"
Clarice tapped a finger on the stack of estimates piled at the edge of the desk. The quote for equipping three hundred men with entirely new gear was enough to make me nauseous.
"Then there's no need for new armor. We'll unify the appearance with the surcoats and just repair what we can... that'll be overwhelmingly cheaper."
"That’s why I left five equally damaged second-hand swords at each forge in the domain. An estimate doesn't tell you anything about a smith's craft, so we're comparing the quality of the repairs against the price. They were all returned today."
At Clarice's signal, the servants began lining the swords up on a long table. Tags for each forge were tied to the scabbards, and papers listing the repair costs were placed beside them.
I glanced toward the cheapest tag, but Clarice glared at me, so I reluctantly picked up a blade. The rust was gone, the nicks had been smoothed out, and the hilt had been retightened. However, no matter how many I looked at, all I saw were clean swords.
"...It’s no use. I can spot a discrepancy in a ledger, but I can't tell the difference between these just by looking at them."
"I thought as much... I’m in the same boat. In that case, it’ll be faster to have someone who actually knows their business look at them."
Clarice spoke to a servant and sent them to fetch Serena, who had a keen eye for weaponry. After a short while, Serena entered the room, surveyed the swords lining the long table, and then turned her gaze toward us.
"...What is this?"
"Sorry to bother you. These are swords I had repaired at the forges in the domain, but we can't tell the difference... Take a look and tell us which one is best."
After hearing the explanation, Serena gave a small nod and drew a nearby sword from its scabbard. She held the blade up to the light and checked the grip, inspecting them one by one. Eventually, her hand stopped in front of the five swords returned from a specific forge.
"These four are quite good... The tempering is meticulous, and there’s no looseness in the hilts. You could hand these to soldiers as they are."
"I see... Then should we just place the order there?"
"Wait... only the last one is different."
Serena swung the remaining sword a few times and ran her fingers along the hilt.
"It’s not just the blade; the hilt was removed and adjusted, too. Even the weight distribution has been corrected; it should be easier to handle than before... Besides, the handiwork is different from the other four."
"Those five came back from the same forge, you know? The level of damage shouldn't have been that different to begin with..."
"Then I think a different blacksmith worked on only this one... probably."
Even I could tell that this one looked strangely newer than the others. If that was the case, it would be faster to talk to the person who actually repaired it. I picked up the sword in question and tested the grip.
"...The one who fixed this, huh? I'll go see them myself. It'll be faster."
"Personally? You mean you're going to the workshop?"
"That’s the plan. I won't understand their skill just by hearing a report, and I want to ask the person themselves how they handled this repair."
Clarice thought for a moment and then looked at the schedule on the desk.
"Couldn't you just summon them? Even if you're a duke, you don't have to go all the way to town; you could just have them come to the manor..."
"And what? Summon them today, check their schedule, and have them come tomorrow or the day after? We have less than a month until the Founding Festival. Just deciding what to do with the equipment for three hundred men will take time."
The moment we abandoned the idea of new gear for repairs, we lost the luxury of time. If a skilled craftsman had been found, I wanted to move things forward immediately.
"If I go, I can settle this today... Plus, I can see their actual workspace."
"...You're only strangely proactive in situations like this."
"Because money and time are on the line. Come on, Clarice. If the person who fixed this is as good as they seem, I want to talk to them today."
◇
When we arrived at the town's forge, the heat of the furnace and the rhythmic clang of iron leaked into the street. The moment we stepped inside, a Master Blacksmith who looked to be in his fifties stopped his work and looked our way. Whether he recognized my face or guessed my identity based on Clarice's presence, he immediately straightened his back.
"D-Duke Razgrim...? What brings you here, your Grace?"
When I lined up the five swords we had brought on the workbench, the man's face stiffened. I drew only the specific sword and showed it to him.
"These five were repaired at your shop, weren't they?"
"...Yes. There is no mistake, but..."
"It seems only this one was worked on by someone else. Who repaired it?"
The Master Blacksmith didn't answer immediately; he looked at the sword and then turned back to me.
"...Was there something wrong with it?"
"No, it's not—"
"If so, the responsibility lies with me...! I entrusted that one to someone else, but I didn't just let them touch it as they pleased! I watched them, and I authorized it! If something is wrong, I'm the master here; I'll take the fall, so please, have mercy!!"
He was incredibly desperate. It seemed he had misunderstood and thought I had come to berate him. Even so, he intended to take responsibility because it was work he had assigned.
"...I didn't come here out of anger. This one is apparently the best of the lot, so I just came to meet the person who fixed it."
"...The best?"
After blinking as if caught off guard, the Master Blacksmith's mouth relaxed just a fraction.
"I see... So she pulled it off."
"So, what kind of old man is he? If the work is this distinct, he must be a veteran who’s been swinging a hammer for decades, right?"
"...No, your Grace. It's not an old man. It's a young woman."
"What?...A woman?"
Was blacksmithing something women did? The image of a bearded, stubborn old man that had been floating in my mind vanished instantly.
"...And, what does she look like?"
Clarice’s cold gaze pierced me from the side.
"You... are you really asking that right now?"
"Skill is the top priority, obviously!...But aren't you even a little curious?"
Even the Master Blacksmith took on an indescribable expression.
...Seriously, another woman? Mylene, Clarice, Raisa, Serena, Lydia, Alecia... for some reason, whenever women were involved, trouble seemed to follow. I didn't want to believe that was the case this time, too. It was surely just my imagination.
"Also, regarding that girl... she has no left arm. She lost it from the elbow down in an accident..."
"What...? And she fixed this with only one arm?"
As I looked down at the sword, Clarice let out a small sigh.
"So that’s what catches your interest first..."
"If this is the result with one arm, it’s only natural to ask how she managed it!"
The Master Blacksmith's opinion of me seemed to shift slightly, and he raised his voice toward the back of the workshop.
"Elsa! Stop what you're doing and come here!"
"What?! I just started the forge!"
A short while later, a young woman appeared with messy, short, navy-blue hair and soot-stained cheeks. Her left sleeve was tied off past the elbow. She was much younger than I expected, and she was actually quite cute.
Elsa tilted her head as she looked at me, then furrowed her brows at the Master Blacksmith.
"Master... who's this?"
"Y-You idiot!! It's Duke Razgrim!!"
"............Huh?"
It seemed she didn't know my face. The grumpy expression she had been wearing vanished in an instant.
"T-This person...? He's younger than I imagined..."
"Was it you who repaired this sword?"
"I-I beg your pardon!! Y-Yes! I-I was the one allowed to perform the repairs! Um, I was aware that it was an item belonging to the Duke—"
"How long did it take?"
"Eh? U-Um, if I may speak—"
"...It’s a bother, so don't be so humble. Speak normally. I don't have much time."
Elsa stood there, her mouth hanging open.
"I mean, 'normally'... You're the Duke, aren't you?! Aren't you someone incredibly important in this country?!"
The moment the words left her mouth, the blood drained from Elsa's face.
"Ah...!"
She had just called a Duke "you." And on their first meeting, she had even raised her voice. Beside her, the Master Blacksmith closed his eyes and pressed a hand to his forehead.
"M-My apologies, your Grace! Just now, that was... it wasn't like that! I've never spoken to someone so important before, so it just slipped out—"
"It doesn't matter. It’s faster that way."
"...You're not angry?"
"If I got angry every time over something like that, we'd never get anything done... More importantly, what about me being a Duke?"
Elsa was still looking at me timidly.
"What do you mean, 'what about'... You're a Duke, right? Isn't that an exceptionally high rank in this kingdom?"
"A noble rank is nothing more than a title. To me, it's garbage."
"Eh?............Garbage!?"
"Whether a Count or a Duke, incompetence is incompetence. Conversely, whether a commoner, a woman, or one-armed, if you can do the job, you can do it... That’s all there is to it. Me becoming a Duke doesn't mean I can suddenly forge iron, and I have no intention of trying. If I need it done, I find someone who can."
Even the Master Blacksmith went silent.
"It would be easy if work just started getting done on its own as your rank increased... well, I suppose it’s convenient that it makes it harder for people to complain even if I act a bit arrogant."
"It's my first time seeing someone treat a ducal rank like that..."
The polite speech had vanished quickly, but it made things move faster.
"...To the main point. Can you do this level of repair for other equipment? What about shields? Armor? Which parts of the process are impossible for one person? If we increase the number of jigs, will the speed go up?"
As I continued with several questions, Elsa's tension disappeared, replaced by a furrow between her brows.
"...What is it with you?! If you're so worried about my left arm, you should have just said it was impossible from the start! I can't do things the same way I used to. But—"
She seemed to realize she had started shouting when she saw the Master Blacksmith pressing his forehead again.
"I didn't come here to ask whether you have one arm or not. I'm asking if you can produce this level of quality on other equipment! Can you? Or can't you?"
Elsa remained silent for a while, looked at her left sleeve once, and then raised her head.
"...I can. I can do swords, shields, and armor. I can't do it the same way as before, but I can do it if I change the fixtures and the process. If I have an assistant for the parts where I absolutely need two people, I can do it even faster, but..."
"Then there's no problem."
"...That’s it?"
"What? What else is there?"
If she was useful, that was enough... and it would be cheap.
"Then I want to hire you. You'll be preparing the equipment for the soldiers I'm sending to the Military Tournament at the Founding Festival."
Elsa's eyes brightened just a little.
"I understand... How many people do I need to equip?"
"Three hundred. We have less than a month."
The only sound in the workshop was the distant crackle of the furnace.
"Ha?............Th-Three hundred?"
"Yeah. Three hundred... well, to be precise, it's twenty days and a bit."
"Whaaaaaaa?! There's no way that's possible in less than a month!!"
That day, I told her the required number and pushed the detailed discussion to the following day. I didn't intend to tell her to do it all alone, but until the very end, Elsa was making a fuss, shouting, "Three hundred? You've got to be kidding me!"
◇
After Vain and the others left, Elsa couldn't return to the workbench immediately; she stood staring at the entrance, her right hand clenched. After seeing her work, the Duke himself had come to visit her.
Before looking at her left arm, he had evaluated her craft and was even trying to request another job. Normally, she should have been overjoyed, but the fact that her one sword had been singled out dredged up old memories.
In the Holy City, too, her work had been praised, and as the responsibilities entrusted to her increased, Dario's attitude had soured. And in the end, she had lost her left arm.
I did it again... I stood out. Thinking that, she became afraid to look at the Master Blacksmith's face.
"...M-Master! Um, I'm sorry! Only my sword... even though it was your shop's reputation, I overstepped again..."
The Master Blacksmith furrowed his brows as if he truly didn't understand the sentiment.
"What are you talking about? I was the one who let you do that sword. Besides, yours was just better than my four. End of story."
"...Aren't you frustrated?"
"Of course I'm frustrated! I’ve been swinging a hammer for decades, and I lost a round to a one-armed girl? How could that be fun!...That’s why next time, I’ll forge something even better! That’s all there is to it."
Elsa couldn't say anything to such an unwavering answer.
"If there’s someone skilled, do you try to crush them? If you've got time for that, swing your hammer! If you're a blacksmith, win with your craft! Or do you intend to hold back next time out of consideration for me?"
"T-There's no way I'd do that!"
"Then hold your head high! You did good work. Now get back to it!"
Even though she was being yelled at, the cold lump remaining deep in her chest was slowly disappearing. Elsa turned away to hide the fact that her mouth was about to relax into a smile and returned to her workbench.
"...I don't care if you lose next time, too."
"Keep talking, brat."
If someone did better work than him, he would just forge something even better next time. That was enough. Elsa felt as if she had finally learned something so obvious, yet so vital.