It was a small village.
But over the past few years, it had begun to grow.
Its population had swelled from roughly three hundred to nearly four hundred. It had no particular specialty products to speak of. Yet this tiny village had suddenly become prosperous.
Previously, the village's young people would leave for the kingdom's cities or Baim once they came of age, but in recent years that had stopped happening.
If anything, the opposite was occurring — young people who had once left the village were returning.
In the village, armed youths hunted the surrounding Monsters and obtained Magic Stones and materials.
Itinerant merchants visited frequently, purchasing those Magic Stones and the like.
Today, one such merchant had come to the village.
"I tell you, having a place to stay prepared for me and getting this many Magic Stones on a regular basis — it's a real lifesaver."
The merchant, who had arrived the previous evening, had stayed the night and was now selling off the goods he'd brought while buying up the village's Magic Stones and materials.
The venture had turned a profit once again, and the merchant looked quite pleased.
"That's good to hear. Come back anytime. The young ones are out hunting Monsters right now, but they'll have plenty ready before long."
The village, more prosperous than it had been just a few years ago. And the man who could now be counted among its prominent figures was a middle-aged former adventurer who had returned from Baim.
No one had ever heard of him before, but once this man came back to his hometown village, it grew wealthy.
He was surely teaching the young folk how to fight and helping them take down Monsters.
That was what the merchant believed, and he had no reason to doubt it.
"That's a great help. If you keep the Monsters in this area in check, travel becomes much safer too."
The former adventurer seemed a bit evasive.
"...Yeah. Well, travel safe on your way back."
The traveling merchant decided to finish his business and leave the village. He carefully loaded the Magic Stones and materials he had purchased onto his horse-drawn cart, then planned to set out with a group that was also heading from the village to town.
The ones heading from the village to town were young people.
They weren't leaving the village — they seemed to be heading out to purchase supplies.
The merchant watched them.
(I heard that the village has been paying taxes in Magic Stones and materials recently, but are they really that invested in buying up food? I can't imagine the lord would allow something like that...)
Recently, it seemed like many young people in the village were armed with weapons and were proactively taking down Monsters.
The merchant...
(No way... No, that can't be it. If they're former adventurers, they'd know how dangerous a Dungeon is.)
He wondered whether the village was hiding a Dungeon and not reporting it — profiting from it in secret.
However, many villages and towns that did such things had been destroyed, and he couldn't imagine a village with a former adventurer would do something like that.
Besides, if there really was a Dungeon, they'd be able to obtain far more Magic Stones and materials. A village that acted so foolishly would surely sell off enormous quantities of Magic Stones and materials and draw suspicion.
They were certainly earning a certain amount, but it wasn't anything particularly remarkable.
Incidentally, villages like this weren't uncommon. There were villages where Monsters were so numerous that fighting was unavoidable. There were even villages that paid their taxes in Magic Stones and materials obtained from defeating Monsters.
It varied by country and lord, but such villages were taxed at a higher rate than others. Weapons they possessed and crops they harvested in the village were not subject to taxation.
However, the squeeze was applied more tightly in other areas. And if a battle broke out, they were required to provide manpower.
The merchant had been thinking that perhaps the village had tilted in that direction.
— Once the merchant had left the village, the former adventurer Brani gathered the village's young people together.
Not in the square, but in a corner-like area of the village. The atmosphere didn't look like a cheerful conversation was being had.
In fact, what was being discussed was far from safe.
Brani spoke to the young people working under him.
"Hey. You guys are dealing with the Monsters around the village too, right? If you keep going to nothing but the Dungeon, people are gonna get suspicious when they notice the Monster count around here has dropped."
The young villagers, ranging from their late teens to mid-twenties, nodded repeatedly at Brani. Brani had been an adventurer in Baim, so to them, he was someone strong.
"Bro, we've been properly clearing out Monsters around the village like you said. But if we went to the Dungeon, we could take out way more than hunting around the village, right? Why don't we do that instead?"
Brani replied with a look of exasperation.
"You idiot. That's exactly how we'd get caught. I told you the plan is to keep it low and slow — earn your keep gradually in the Dungeon. If it looks like you're about to get found out, just say you discovered the Dungeon. Or take care of whoever's getting too nosy. Until then, you pile up your earnings bit by bit."
Brani. A former adventurer, but one who had been nothing more than a pack mule in his party — not a particularly skilled one.
Sadly, though, he was no fool. He was a cunning man. But he wasn't exactly wise either. Just someone with a mildly quick mind and a slight knack for getting by. That was Brani.
The thing was, he considered himself clever.
In Baim, he had been an adventurer nobody gave a second thought to, but back in the village, it was different. The kind of Monsters that lingered around the village were easy for him to handle.
And deceiving old folks who had never set foot outside was a piece of cake.
For better or worse, this village — his hometown — held no appeal for young people who had left and found success out in the world.
Which meant no fellow villagers who had become adventurers ever came back.
That was why so many villagers had fallen for Brani's silver tongue. Some had objected at first, but once their living standards improved, they did a complete about-face.
(That's right. If I become a prominent figure in the village like this, I'll be someone respected here forever. And I'll be able to get a wife soon too. I'll live better than those Baim adventurers who looked down on me.)
Having spent his whole life cunningly currying favor with those stronger than him, Brani was now embarking on a second life in his hometown.
Without ever realizing just how foolish that was——.
"I refuse."
We found ourselves in a difficult position, standing before a dwarven craftsman with wild white hair and a beard, whose body was still sturdy despite his age.
All around us, the sound of metal being hammered rang out as many dwarves worked busily at their tasks.
He was the craftsman Vera had introduced to us — someone capable of working with nearly all rare metals.
But when I visited his workshop, I'd barely gotten partway through my pitch before he flat-out told me no.
Vera, who had come with me, was also at a loss.
"Grandpa Ratata, I'm asking you too, you know?"
At that, the craftsman Ratata, while smoking his pipe—
"It's a sweet request from a young lady, and I'd love to oblige, but I can't. That brat Fidel came by and told me absolutely not to lend a hand. I've known the kid for a long time. Besides, the one I owe a debt to was your great-grandfather, wasn't it? I'd say I've paid that back plenty."
The stubborn-looking old man looked up at me with his drooping eyes, then glanced at the saber at my waist and shook his head.
"Kid, I don't much care whether that brat thinks you're worthy of the young lady or not. But if you really do have that kind of skill, you ought to pick your weapon more carefully."
It seemed he'd judged that I had some real ability. And he'd spotted at a glance that the saber at my hip was mass-produced.
An impressive person, no doubt.
But stubborn.
"Could you please reconsider? This is a metal no one has ever worked with before. You're one of the top craftsmen in all of Baim, and I'd really like to commission you—"
The elderly craftsman laughed.
"That's quite the praise for this old fossil. I'm flattered you think well of my skills, and it is a tempting offer. But still, no."
Vera said, slightly irritated.
"Why not?! If it's about my father, you don't need to worry about him — he's just throwing a little tantrum, that's all."
Old Man Ratata heard this and laughed. Then, as if gently reasoning with her, he said—
"Then go persuade him properly. Sorry, but I've got work of my own. As a matter of fact... that work happens to be maintaining your ship, young lady."
Vera's shoulders sank and she apologized, but we'd hit a dead end. It didn't seem like any further negotiation would work. The only thing I could think of was persuading Fidel, Vera's father.
Old Man Ratata, who'd been laughing while watching Vera, glanced at me—
"Well, take your boyfriend out and show him some wares. I've got better weapons than that thing on your hip. Good luck convincing that brat."
Even someone like Novem couldn't persuade this person — there was no doubt about it. He was a famous craftsman in Baim, and among dwarves, who were known for their smiths, he was skilled enough to have his name spoken with reverence.
I really wanted him to cooperate.
And then —.
"Hey Dad, there's a customer at the shop. Something about wanting to see a saber."
When the dwarf woman walked into the workshop, Old Man Ratata made a sour face.
"I told you not to just send anyone in, didn't I? Look, have your granddaughter deal with them. experiences like this are important too."
The dwarf woman slapped Old Man Ratata on the shoulder with an open palm.
"You're so annoying! I'm telling you that granddaughter of yours is in trouble, so handle it for her! Are you really going to ignore a request from your own son — the one I care about most?!"
Even Old Man Ratata, caught off guard by his daughter's fury, cleared his throat and stood up.
"F-Fine, fine. Good grief... I raised you wrong. Sorry about that, young lady. I'll go deal with the customer. Feel free to keep browsing the merchandise — I'll give you the friends-and-family discount."
When Old Man Ratata left the workshop with his daughter, we headed outside and circled around to the front of the shop.
The store was part of the smithy, and Old Man Ratata's was the largest building in the surrounding area.
He sometimes took on commissions, but he also crafted and sold his own goods.
He had many apprentices, and between his son-in-law — the adopted heir who served as shop manager — and his granddaughter in training, three generations kept the business running.
When we entered from the street, there was Old Man Ratata, who had been so reluctant just moments ago, now boisterously shouting:
"That won't do! For someone like you, we need to prepare a proper saber! There's nothing wrong with buying mass-produced blades in bulk, but you also need a weapon you can truly rely on when the moment comes!"
He was happily attending to a customer. And when I looked toward the counter, I spotted two familiar figures from behind.
One had bright brown hair tied in a side ponytail.
The other had blonde hair in twin tails and was wearing a maid outfit.
"What the hell are those two doing here?"
When I said that, Vera replied.
"Aren't you treating them differently from before? You look way too happy about it. They're getting better treatment than me, you know."
She seemed a little unhappy, so I gave a wry smile and rejoined Novem and the others.
"Hey, weren't you guys out shopping today?"
Novem and Monica both turned around. Neither of them looked even slightly surprised to see me.
Monica explained what had led to this.
"Oh, we happened to run into each other here. Normally I'd hate going shopping with that vixen, but... ah, if I'm ordered to do it, that's a different story. This Monica is fully prepared to take the lead on even the most unpleasant tasks if the Chicken orders it!"
Not really caring about any of that, I looked at Novem. She smiled gently.
"I was thinking of taking this opportunity to give Sir Laiel a saber as a gift. Relying on mass-produced ones means your equipment wears out quickly, and more than that, I wanted to show my gratitude for everything you do."
What a wonderful kid. Shannon should boil and drink the dirt from under Novem's fingernails.
But Novem gave a wry smile.
"There is one thing, though... Monica says I should get you a katana instead of a saber."
"A katana?"
When I tilted my head, Monica spoke up excitedly.
"Yes! A katana suits the Chicken perfectly! The Yamato spirit! The Yamato spirit! Or wait, was it the heart of a warrior? Well, the details don't matter! I'm sure you'll love it!"
(What's this Yamato spirit? Warrior? Isn't that just a knight?)
The thing was, I had no idea what kind of weapon a katana was. I looked over at Grandpa Rataata to ask about it.
"Honestly, I don't know either. After hearing the explanation, I understood it's something like a saber. But still... if you asked me to make one, I could, but I wouldn't want to sell a half-finished product. Take your time with this one. To be blunt, there are problems with it as a weapon."
Vera heard the mention of problems with it as a weapon and asked.
"What kind of problems? Short reach? Laiel, you should focus on guns. Used as a Mana Tool, they pack quite a punch."
That's why I've been struggling with it. However, the Seventh Generation agreed from within the Jewel.
"As expected of Vera! That's right — guns are the weapons that will change the world! Laiel, choose the gun. Sabers are outdated."
I've been swinging that saber around for years, though...
Grandpa Latarta opened his mouth.
"It's the same as a saber. A weapon for thrusting and slashing, sure, but that's where durability becomes an issue. And it seems even more delicate than a saber. To put it bluntly, even with rare metals, iron or the like won't cut it. It'll break easily. Unless you use higher-quality rare metal, it's underwhelming as a weapon."
Monica heard that and said.
"The same applies to sabers, doesn't it? Come on, Chicken! Let's go with the katana! It's fine! The blade is just a little different — it's almost the same as a saber!"
Unable to understand why she was pushing so hard, I looked around with a troubled expression.
But when my eyes fell on Novem, Grandpa Latarta spoke up.
"Come to think of it, you all know each other. Man, what a coincidence. Alright, fine. Since I'm at it, I'll take on the young ladies' commission too. I'm actually getting motivated."
Those words from Grandpa Latarta caught Vera off guard.
"...What?"
Novem looked at us, seemed to understand what had happened, and thanked Grandpa Latarta.
"Thank you very much."
"Don't mention it! Besides, the kid's request was personal anyway. There's no need for anyone to complain if I prioritize this one."
Novem had always had a tendency to be liked by demi-humans.
(Is this also a blessing from the Goddess — no, from the Evil God? Well, whatever.)
I was relieved that we'd managed to secure a craftsman, but Vera...
"...What's this? I just can't accept it. It didn't work even for me, but Novem gets him to agree right away?"
She wore an expression of utter disbelief.