The Town of Shining Stone (3)

Back when I first learned smithing, I charged into Azvaldo's damn dwarf master's smithy shouting, 'Anyone there?!' But thinking back on it now, I realize it was pretty reckless.

It still amazes me that he accepted me after that.

My smithing master really is incredibly broad-minded.

I did the same when I became a disciple of Kaeha, my now-deceased swordsmanship master—I forced my way in.

Kaushman, who taught me magic, was different: he came to me asking to be taught smithing, though...

Back then, whenever something felt like fate, I could charge ahead without hesitation.

But doing the same thing now would be a little difficult, and more importantly, Count Marmaros, a noble of this country, would have me arrested as a criminal if I tried to meet him without an appointment.

So I presented the completed dagger, the cinquedea, through the blacksmiths' guild and requested an audience with him.

I'd learned to follow the proper steps instead of charging ahead without thinking, as I had back then.

Three days after presenting the cinquedea, I was invited to Count Marmaros's residence, the central seat of this town's administration.

Apparently, my work had successfully caught the count's interest.

To be honest, I was a little relieved.

Of course, I was confident in how it had turned out, but until the result was in, there was always a chance something might go wrong.

Now, setting that aside, the mansion of Count Marmaros that I visited stood on extensive grounds, but rather than luxurious, it was tasteful and sedate.

But rather than being shown to the mansion, I was led by a servant to another building in one corner of the grounds, what was probably a workshop.

Hmm. This is just a guess, but it seemed Count Marmaros had chosen a private moment rather than an official one to meet with me.

That mansion was certainly where Count Marmaros lived, but it was also his workplace as the lord of the territory.

But this workshop must be a private place where he could devote himself to what he truly loved: art.

And inviting me to that private place, using what must also have been his limited private time, was conclusive proof that the cinquedea had struck a chord with Count Marmaros.

When I was led into the workshop, I found a man in work clothes pressing a chisel against an unfinished statue and swinging a hammer.

He looked to be a little over forty.

Though he was dressed for work, there was a certain refinement to his profile as he concentrated intently on his creation.

When the servant hesitantly began to speak to him, I stopped them with a gesture and sat down in a nearby chair.

There was no doubt that it was the servant's duty to announce the arrival of a guest invited by the master of the house.

But this was not the manor of a noble lord; it was a private workshop.

As one craftsman to another, even if our fields were different, I didn't want to disturb him while he was absorbed in his work.

Besides, I had the chance to watch a craftsman's technique as soon as I arrived. Even with my lack of knowledge, I couldn't understand all of it, but I wanted to observe him at my leisure.

Of course, if the servant insisted that they would be scolded for failing to tell their master about a visitor, I had no intention of stopping them.

The servant readily withdrew, apparently willing to defer to my wishes.

Ah, then the man before me, Count Marmaros, really was an eccentric among nobles.

Eccentric enough that even his servant felt he shouldn't be disturbed during his private time.

Each time a hard, metallic clang rang out, the chisel shaved a thin sliver from the stone.

It might be more accurate to say that he was peeling it away rather than carving it.

I got the impression that he was carefully peeling away the layers covering it, one by one, trying to restore the original form sleeping beneath them...

After I waited like that for a while, Count Marmaros finally let out a long, long breath and stopped working.

Perhaps he had worked to a natural stopping point, perhaps his concentration had broken, or perhaps it was both.

I couldn't judge, having no knowledge of sculpture, but he turned around to face me,

"Hello, sorry to keep you waiting. No, that's not right—thank you for waiting. I was just reaching a good stopping point. ...You must be the elf who presented me with that 'meteor dagger,' right?"

Those were the words he spoke.

The expression on his face was an unguarded smile, with surprise, respect, and interest blending together into goodwill.

The meteor dagger... so that's what he saw in it.

The cinquedea I'd presented would emit light from its carved grooves when mana was channeled through it.

Since it glowed in response to the flow of mana—from the base toward the tip—Count Marmaros must have seen it as something like a meteor.

I had to admit, that was a remarkably poetic way of seeing it, but I didn't mind being described in those terms.

In reality, though, it didn't merely emit light; its glow wavered according to the flow and strength of the mana, making it quite capable of bewildering an opponent depending on how it was used.

The wavering light blurred the blade's actual width and length—in other words, the distance at which it could strike.

Any warrior who saw that cinquedea would undoubtedly think first of its deceptive effect, but Count Marmaros had judged the dagger purely as a work of art.

Apparently, he really was the sort of person I'd heard he was.

To be honest, I'd been worried that its function as a magic tool might have been a little tasteless, so I was delighted that he liked it.

I didn't think Count Marmaros himself had any magical training, so perhaps it had been one of his household mages who made the dagger light up.

Regardless, I was happy that he had appreciated the cinquedea, including its effect as a magic tool.

And after seeing Count Marmaros's works, his reputation, the impression I had gotten in person, and above all the skill he had just displayed before my eyes, I had already made up my mind.

"I'm glad you like it. That cinquedea was, well, a piece I was particularly proud of, so I'm happy you enjoyed it. Count Marmaros, I've come today to ask to become your apprentice."

I spoke to a noble politely, but without beating around the bush, getting straight to the point.

Count Marmaros's eyes widened in surprise.

Both my manner and what I'd said must have been unexpected to him.

But yes, this was my way of doing things.

"I want to properly preserve with my own hands the forms of friends who have already passed away. If they're only in my memories, then when people see completely different likenesses or stone statues, they'll believe those are them. To me, it feels as though they've become something else, and that saddens me."

Before he could open his mouth, I poured out everything I felt, everything I needed to say.

I wasn't trying to bargain with him, pushing and pulling for advantage. I was appealing directly to Count Marmaros's heart.

"In this town, I saw one of your works. A wolf statue that was cold and solitary, yet made me feel a warmth as though it were alive. I want to preserve my friends' forms like that too. That's why I want your skills."

I looked him straight in the eye, pouring the heat in my chest into my gaze and my words.

The pressure in my gaze and words must have been more than an ordinary person could easily withstand.

But Count Marmaros accepted it without taking even a single step back,

"As you know, I'm a noble who governs this land. I pursue my art in the time I can spare from governing. I understand how you feel, but I don't have time to look after an apprentice."

Then he shook his head.

Ah, that was certainly a perfectly reasonable thing to say.

If he were a lord who neglected his governing duties, neither the old man I met in the park nor the people of this town would hold him dear.

Likewise, if he neglected the time he spent creating his own works, the statue that had struck my heart could never have existed.

I could find nothing to say in response to his words.

"But that dagger was magnificent. Never before has a weapon stirred my emotions so deeply. The next time I make a statue bearing a weapon, the weapon it carries will certainly no longer be a mere accessory."

Yet Count Marmaros smiled at me.

It was the same unguarded smile filled with goodwill that he had shown me at the beginning.

"So, Elf-kun. I don't have time to look after an apprentice, but if you can stir my emotions as you did then, that will be beneficial to me. So I'll take that as your tuition and become your teacher. Rather than taking you on as an apprentice, I'd be willing to enter into a labor contract with you."

And by exchanging our names, we sealed our contract.

The hand he offered me was strong, with thick skin and calluses, nothing like that of a nobleman derided as effete.