"Did you participate in the Military Tournament as well, Lord Kieza? House Perkin took part, so I had assumed you were commanding troops."
When Clarice asked, Kieza's eyes widened in genuine surprise.
"Good heavens, no! I have absolutely no interest in military affairs, politics, or noble socializing. My father seems fond of such things, but why should I tag along? Rather than standing around with soldiers making a sour face, wouldn't you agree it's vastly more meaningful to enjoy a meal with a beautiful woman?"
"...You are quite different from your father, aren't you?"
"I am told that often... Father is simply too serious. He talks of nothing but complicated matters from morning to night; I am frankly amazed he never grows tired of it."
He didn't seem to be mocking his father, nor did he seem to resent him. He truly was just indifferent. That appeared to be the long and short of it.
Clarice took another look at the man before her. He possessed absolute confidence in his own looks and spoke to women without hesitation the moment he laid eyes on them, yet he remained utterly indifferent to politics and military matters. He was so different from Marquis Perkin—who had been deeply embroiled in the struggle for the throne until just the other day—that one would never guess they belonged to the same house.
"So, you aren't very fond of swords either?"
"I don't dislike them. I was made to practice endlessly from an early age, and I can still wield one if necessary. It's simply that I don't love it enough to spend every day sweating profusely through training... After all, it would ruin my hair."
Saying this, Kieza lightly adjusted his bangs. He seemed to have noticed that a young woman working at a nearby stall was looking his way, and when their eyes met, he flashed her a smooth smile. As the woman hurriedly looked down, Kieza wore a satisfied expression, as though this were only natural.
"You see? The world is far more peaceful when we smile rather than swing swords, wouldn't you say?"
"...Aren't you just trying to solve everything with your face?"
"Leaving useful assets unused would be a dreadful waste!"
With that single point delivered so plausibly, Clarice let out an exasperated sigh. Just then, a small boy running a short distance ahead collided with a passerby and tumbled onto the cobblestones. Having scraped his knee, his face twisted as he let out a loud wail.
A woman who appeared to be his mother rushed to hurry over, but Kieza moved faster. Without a moment's hesitation, he crouched down before the child and peered into his tear-streaked face.
"Oh dear. Would a boy with such a promising future cry so hard?"
Surprised by the sudden voice, the boy looked up at Kieza through his tears.
"You merely scraped your knee a little, didn't you? It's quite all right; you are strong. You mustn't cry forever, you know. Come, take my hand and let's get you up."
When the boy timidly grasped the offered hand, Kieza gently helped him to his feet without rushing, even brushing the dirt from his knee.
"Yes, just like that. You look far more handsome now than when you were crying."
When the boy sniffled and managed a slight smile, Kieza nodded in satisfaction. The mother caught up and thanked him repeatedly, but he simply replied with a polite "Think nothing of it" and made no effort to speak further of himself.
As he turned to walk back toward Clarice and Serena, a small leather pouch slipped from the pocket of an elderly man walking in front of him.
"Kind sir, you've dropped something."
Kieza scooped it up immediately, called out to stop the man, and handed it over. While watching the man bow repeatedly in gratitude, Kieza peered closely at his face.
"More importantly, you look rather exhausted... Are you feeling well? Now that the festival has concluded, you shouldn't push yourself too hard. Please find somewhere to get some proper rest."
"My word... How kind of you. Thank you very much."
After watching the man depart, Kieza caught sight of a gaunt beggar sitting at the edge of the street. He paused, placing several coins into the small wooden dish.
"Hmm... With this much, you should have no trouble with food for a while. The stalls are still open, so do treat yourself to something warm."
"T-This much...? T-Thank you, kind sir!"
"No thanks are necessary. When one's belly is empty, one has no strength to do anything."
Having said only that, Kieza strolled back as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. Clarice looked at him in a somewhat different light.
"...You help people quite naturally, don't you?"
"Oh... Pardon me. Were you surprised?"
"A little. I thought... you were someone who only cared about himself."
"How dreadful of you to say! If a man as beautiful as I were to look away from those in need, it would spoil everything, wouldn't it? One must be beautiful not only in face, but in conduct as well."
"...So that's what it comes down to in the end."
Clarice could not help but laugh.
He was certainly eccentric. Exceedingly conceited, a flirt, and entirely indifferent to both politics and the military. Even so, he stopped in his tracks for a crying child, noticed the fatigue on a stranger's face rather than just a dropped item, and generously extended a helping hand to those in distress.
At the very least, he doesn't seem to be a bad person.
Beside her, Serena paid no mind to their exchange, quietly munching on a newly purchased pastry. Just as Clarice was about to say something, a familiar head of silver hair appeared across the street.
"Ah... Vain!"
Kieza followed her gaze. The man walking toward them had his shoulders slumped so low and dragged his feet so heavily that it was hard to believe he was the duke who had just won the Military Tournament.
"Pardon me, but is that gentleman your companion?"
"Ah, no... Vain—I mean, Duke Razgrim, whom I serve."
"Razgrim...?"
Kieza blinked once, genuinely astonished this time.
"I see... So that is the lord of the renowned House Razgrim!"
"You know of him?"
"His name, of course... One hears it quite often in the royal capital these days. However, I rarely show my face at noble gatherings, nor did I watch yesterday's Military Tournament, so I didn't know what the Duke himself looked like. I skipped the Royal Selection as well, leaving it all to Father."
Having explained that much, Kieza turned back to Clarice with an amused smile.
"Even so, you called his name quite familiarly just now, did you not?"
"...It is merely how I address him normally. He doesn't mind it himself."
"Is that so! How very intriguing!"
Before he could pry any further, Clarice turned her attention back to Vain as he approached.
◇
I lost.
No, to be precise, I couldn't claw back a single coin. Desperate to shave down that horrifying sum of over two hundred gold coins even a little, I threw every idea I had at him—offering to pay all at once, asking if we could supply the materials ourselves, asking if any steps could be skipped—but every single time, the craftsman politely shot me down with meticulous explanations.
Switching to cheaper materials would shorten its lifespan. Simplifying the internal mechanisms would impair the fine movements of the fingers. Medical examinations and post-fitting adjustments couldn't be reduced, and to begin with, the necessary work couldn't even be determined until he thoroughly examined Elsa's arm in person.
In other words, all we knew right now was that it would exceed two hundred gold coins; no one knew what the final cost would actually be.
It was a total, crushing defeat.
"...Vain, you look dreadful."
"I was utterly defeated... Not a single coin came off! On top of that, it seems he can't even give an exact quote until he examines Elsa's arm... It's still stuck at a vague 'over two hundred coins.'"
"And what did you do?"
"What choice did I have? I placed the order as is, of course... I told him I'd bring her in soon."
Clarice's eyes went slightly round.
It's expensive! Way too expensive...! To think that nearly half of the five hundred coins I fought so desperately for might vanish in one go still makes my chest ache.
Even so, if it lets Elsa use both arms, being stingy with money and leaving a capable artisan one-armed would be an even greater loss.
...That's right. This isn't a loss!
It's an investment in the future...!
When you think about it that way, the story changes, doesn't it? Elsa is still young. Yet, even with one arm, she managed to produce all that equipment for the Military Tournament alongside the master blacksmith.
The armor and shields held up to the very end against last year's champions, keeping serious injuries to a minimum. On top of that, I just stopped by the newspaper publisher earlier and gave a thorough rundown of the equipment the Razgrim army used.
What will happen when the knights and nobles who watched the Military Tournament read that article? It's the gear used by the army that defeated last year's champions. People will definitely want it, and when the orders come flooding in, Elsa and the master can work even harder than before. If that happens, two hundred coins or so could easily pay for itself in the long run.
Having thought that far, another idea popped into my head.
...Wait a minute. I might just be a genius...!
Why stop at weapons and armor?! A single mechanical prosthetic arm costs over two hundred gold coins! I doubt we could replicate such complex technology right away, but once Elsa starts using one herself, she'll have endless opportunities to study its mechanisms... I can just have her learn it bit by bit. If she manages to master even a fraction of that technology someday, weapons and armor won't be the only things Razgrim can manufacture.
This is huge...?! There's way more potential here than I thought!
It only feels expensive because I was thinking of paying over two hundred gold coins for a single arm. What if I look at it as spending money on a young artisan named Elsa, investing so she can work for me for the next ten, twenty years... no, until the day she dies? Orders for equipment are bound to increase, and if she picks up new technology on top of that, the money spent might come back multiplied many times over.
For that purpose, these gold coins must make the sacrifice!
Parting with the five hundred coins I just got my hands on yesterday hurts... It hurts terribly! But their sacrifice won't be in vain! They just need to come back to me someday, having multiplied their ranks several times over! Elsa is a bundle of potential, the master has the skill, and thanks to the Military Tournament, our equipment's reputation will spread. With all these pieces in place, I have no choice but to ride this massive wave!
All for the sake of my dream of a life of decadence!
"...You looked like you were on the verge of death a moment ago, but you've suddenly perked up."
"Naturally! Right now, I'm not losing over two hundred gold coins. I've decided to deposit them in the future."
"Aren't you just phrasing it differently?"
"Wrong! Listen to me, all right? This is an investment. Eventually, I'll take it back multiplied many times over!"
Brushing Clarice's skepticism aside, once I finally pulled myself together, I turned my gaze toward the unfamiliar man standing beside her. An impeccably dressed man with an impeccably handsome face. And in his hand was a red rose. Because my head had been filled with thoughts of gold coins, I had barely registered his presence until now.
"By the way, who is this guy?"
"...Lord Kieza Perkin. The son of Marquis Perkin. He spoke to me a moment ago."
"Oh? Of House Perkin?"
Hearing the familiar house name, I took another look at Kieza. His demeanor was completely different from that marquis. The father was a serious-looking man constantly fretting over politics and the royal family.
...What is this guy? He doesn't seem like a bad sort, but somehow, he gives off a bizarre vibe of his own.
"A pleasure to meet you, Duke Razgrim. I am Kieza Perkin. I was just in the middle of inviting this beautiful lady to a meal."
"A meal?"
When I looked at Clarice, she gave a slight shrug.
"He merely invited me. I properly declined, and we were just chatting a bit afterward."
I see... Then it doesn't really matter, does it—
Hm...? What if this guy takes a liking to Clarice and takes her away somewhere? Once we return to the domain, there's a mountain of ledgers and documents waiting, and I leave most of the fine details regarding hiring staff entirely to her. Having to find someone who works just as hard this late in the game and train them from scratch to take over her duties would be an utter nightmare.
That would be a disaster...! A catastrophic disaster...! I can no longer survive without Clarice...!
I grabbed Clarice by the arm and pulled her firmly toward me.
"Eek?! Wh-Wait, Vain!"
"Sorry, but this one's mine."
Clarice's shoulder brushed against my chest, and her body froze on the spot.
"I'm never letting anyone have her."
"............Huh!?"
As Clarice looked up, her cheeks slowly flushed bright red.
"V-Vain... Do you, do you even realize what you're saying right now?!"
"Of course I do!"
Answering without a moment's hesitation, Clarice was left utterly speechless. Looking up at me, she opened and closed her mouth, yet for some reason, she made no attempt to pull her arm from my grasp.
Beside us, Serena's eyes widened slightly as she held her pastry.
"Whoa... Master is so bold."
"About what?"
"Nothing. Never mind."
Kieza looked back and forth between the two of us, his eyes narrowing as though he had caught on to something.
"My apologies. It appears I have spoken to someone quite precious to the Duke, haven't I?"
"Well, yeah. Precious, of course she is!"
"W-Wait, Vain...!"
Clarice's face turned even redder.
I mean, having someone take her away really would be a disaster... I entrust a substantial portion of the domain's work to her, and above all, she's indispensable for me to live an easy life. That's why I haven't the slightest intention of letting anyone have her.
That was all there was to it, yet for some reason, Clarice kept her head down and refused to look at me. Serena had a faint smirk playing on her lips, and Kieza wore the face of a man who understood everything completely.
"I see...! How very delightful."
"What is?"
"No... If the person in question does not realize it, it would hardly be beautiful of me to point it out."
"...?"
I have no idea what he's talking about.
Just as I tilted my head in confusion—
"KIEZAAAAAAAAAAA!!"
A tremendous roar of pure fury echoed from across the street.
Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud!!
The sound of heavy footsteps stomping over the cobblestones approached at blistering speed from beyond the crowd. Charging straight toward us while dodging bystanders was none other than the familiar Marquis Perkin. Veins bulged on his forehead, and his glaring eyes were fixed entirely on his son, not on me.
"You scoundreeeeel! What on earth are you doing, you foolish boyyyyyyy!!"
Yet the son being screamed at didn't seem flustered in the slightest. Kieza tilted his head slightly, watching his sprinting father with an expression of mild curiosity.
"Oh dear. Father. Whatever is the matter? Why such a rush?"
Then, casting a brief glance around, he continued as though gently chiding his father.
"Besides, making such a racket will only cause trouble for everyone else, you know?"
"WHO DO YOU THINK IS CAUSING THIS RACKET IN THE FIRST PLAAAACE!!"