#Chapter 63
—
“How much will it cost?”
“If you also dispose of the pistol you used before, then 100 gold.”
At the shopkeeper’s words, Arthur wordlessly took out 100 gold and handed it over.
The shopkeeper, slowly counting the coins one by one, curved his lips into a satisfied smile.
“Mm… accurate.”
“Now I can take it, right?”
“Of course. You can expect good performance. Just the spells laid on it alone are far more than the one you used before… plus it comes with elemental enhancement.”
At that explanation, Arthur tilted his head slightly and asked.
“But even if it is cursed, isn’t it far too cheap?”
“Cheap, yes. But no matter how fine the item, if it has no master, what use is it?”
“…Hm. So that’s how it is?”
“That’s how it is. If that pistol hadn’t been cursed? It wouldn’t have even reached me. A pistol with elemental enhancement attached can sometimes go for well over ten thousand gold, depending on the details.”
Arthur’s eyes widened.
*‘Ten thousand gold…? Isn’t that enough to buy two or three of the mansions I live in right now?’*
It was, to exaggerate a little, about the same as the monthly operating funds of House Bayern.
In other words, it was something even Yonel would have trouble buying on a whim.
He had thought it was a good pistol, but never imagined it would be that tremendous a weapon. Arthur clicked his tongue in disbelief.
*‘Hm… but if such a fine weapon hasn’t found an owner, doesn’t that mean the curse is real?’*
Unable to hold back, Arthur asked the question.
The answer came without delay.
“Why? Feeling uneasy all of a sudden?”
“No. But one can’t help being curious. Just how many people died to this thing?”
The shopkeeper spread out his palm with a mischievous grin.
“Five that I know of.”
“…”
“The more surprising thing is that those five… all died within a single year of the weapon changing hands. If you include the owners before that, no one even bothered to count how many.”
Arthur let out a whistle.
“Oh… hearing that, I get why the price is so low.”
“They call it *The Beast That Mauls Its Master*. That name didn’t come from nowhere.”
Arthur twirled the pistol, *The Beast*, as if to show it off.
“But it won’t apply to me. No matter how beastly a thing may be, it won’t kill the same person twice, right?”
“…? What do you mean by that?”
“Just a joke. I meant I don’t believe in superstitions.”
The shopkeeper belatedly chuckled.
“That’s the least funny joke I’ve heard in a while. Anyway, use it well. I don’t particularly enjoy seeing my customers die.”
Arthur gave a small nod and left the shop.
Then, lifting *The Beast* in his hand, he muttered.
“Hmm… aside from the aura around the barrel, there’s nothing unusual. But if five people have died, there must be some reason.”
After pondering for a moment, Arthur shrugged.
“Then maybe this is when I die too? Willet Elder even gave me a warning, after all.”
He gave a faint laugh.
Perhaps just his imagination, but *The Beast* seemed to tremble in response.
Meanwhile, Arthur moved on, heading for the smithy on the opposite side.
Clang—! Clang—! Clang—!
As befitting one located in District A, the smithy was much more refined than an ordinary one.
The mere fact that the smell of smoke and iron was hardly noticeable already set it apart.
At that moment, a boy with strikingly dark skin approached and asked politely.
“…What brings you here?”
Arthur drew the meteoric iron sword at his waist.
“I’d like to have the edge sharpened. Is that possible?”
“Of course. If it’s only the edge, it won’t even take an hour.”
With that, the boy walked off somewhere, and Arthur followed behind.
Soon, the scent of fire and iron that couldn’t be smelled outside drifted through strongly.
*‘Oh… they’ve been sealing it with magic?’*
Arthur marveled quietly.
It was the first smithy he had seen that cared so much about cleanliness.
Just then, the boy returned and beckoned to Arthur.
“Smith No. 3 says he can take you right away. Please come this way.”
Arthur followed the boy again.
There, a middle-aged man easily twenty years older than the boy bowed.
“You came to have the blade sharpened?”
“Yes.”
“May I see the sword?”
Arthur handed over the meteoric iron sword.
Smith No. 3 examined it closely, then started in surprise.
“…This is a peculiar sword. No—peculiar doesn’t do it justice. It’s a rare sword.”
At his words, Arthur’s lips curved upward.
“I heard it was forged from meteorite.”
“Meteorite? Huh… then it’s even more remarkable. A sword made from ore fallen from the heavens…”
The smith’s eyes gleamed.
“Since it’s a blade that is sharp by nature, this won’t take long. Please wait just ten minutes.”
With that, the smith turned away. The boy asked gently,
“Would you like a cold coffee while you wait?”
“Oh, you have cold coffee?”
“Yes! It’s delicious!”
Arthur flicked him a silver coin.
The boy, catching it, soon returned with a cup full of ice.
“Tastes good.”
“Hehe! Everyone says my coffee is the best!”
Arthur let out a small laugh at the boy’s pride.
He then leisurely sipped the coffee, watching the smith work on the blade.
While holding the meteoric iron sword, the smith muttered with a faintly odd look.
“Hmm… Sir?”
“Yes?”
“By chance… has this sword recently suffered some great impact?”
Arthur blinked.
“Uh… well? I suppose it might have, since I use it rather roughly sometimes…”
“There’s no problem with the edge itself. But the durability of the sword, more precisely its core, seems to have been compromised.”
Arthur’s eyes widened.
“Then… it can’t be used anymore?”
“It would be better not to use it recklessly… but even as it is now, it’s still far superior to an ordinary blade.”
“So if I’m careful, there’s no problem?”
“Yes. Unless you do something absurd, like blocking a knight’s sword aura head-on, it should never break.”
Arthur exclaimed.
“Ah… then it must’ve been from blocking Mr. Tacen’s punch that time.”
“…What do you mean?”
“A few days ago, I blocked a punch cloaked in sword aura with this sword. It was so sudden, I didn’t think before I acted… I should be more cautious from now on.”
“…?”
The smith blinked.
The boy at his side did the same.
*‘Not even a blade…’*
*‘He blocked a punch wrapped in sword aura?’*
But oblivious to their shock, Arthur sheathed the sword and gave a nod.
“Then, have a pleasant day.”
With a parting word, he left the smithy.
Watching his back, the smith and the boy muttered.
“Sir… can really cloak a fist in sword aura?”
“W-who knows? That’s the first I’ve heard of such a thing.”
“Then… was he lying?”
The smith fell silent.
“…”
The faint mark he had noticed on the sword’s surface—he had thought it came from rough use. But now, it seemed more like the trace of being struck by a fist.
*‘Then… he truly blocked a fist imbued with sword aura?’*
With that thought, the smith let out a hollow laugh.
What sort of madman would clad his fist in sword aura?
The smith lightly tapped the boy’s shoulder.
“Braggarts among swordsmen who come here aren’t rare. Just let it pass.”
—
—
After finishing his maintenance, Arthur studied the information on Hamburg that Willet had handed him.
*‘Three hundred combat gang members, and thirty mercenaries hired personally.’*
He had expected it, but the number of guards was beyond imagination.
By military measure, it was comparable to a company.
*‘Three hundred gang members aside… the mercenaries are the real problem.’*
Arthur examined the list of the thirty mercenaries Hamburg had hired.
*‘At least D-rank or higher. And three of them are B-rank.’*
B-rank meant people on par with Kassel or Carpe, whom he had crossed paths with recently.
*‘Troublesome… both in quantity and in quality.’*
Not something to abandon over, but it meant he would need to revise his plan.
*‘An assassination during the auction… or else enlist someone to bolster my side. Realistically, the former seems more viable.’*
The best would be to collaborate with someone in killing Hamburg, but there was no such person.
Who would dare to move against a slave merchant with such deep underworld ties?
One wrong move in these tangled backstreets and you were finished.
So Arthur had just about settled on assassinating Hamburg alone—
“…Why are you staring at me like that? Do I have something on my face?”
During Professor Chizzy’s group project class with the Prince and Yenika, Arthur caught sight of Leon Madrid scowling, and his lips curved upward.
“There is, actually. Someone just right.”
—
—
Looking at the puzzled Leon, Arthur thought,
*‘If only he can be trusted, he’s perfect.’*
Their interests aligned, and his abilities were outstanding.
The issue was whether Leon could be trusted.
*‘…Hm.’*
It was Leon who had prompted Arthur to hunt earlier than planned.
In such circumstances, was it wise to bring him along?
Arthur smirked.
*‘Maybe not the wisest choice… but profitable.’*
Moreover, this could be a chance to test Leon’s true intentions.
And if those intentions didn’t align with Arthur’s own, he could simply cut his throat.
*‘Oh… killing two birds with one stone. Confirm Leon’s trustworthiness, and make the job easier.’*
Having decided, Arthur asked Leon.
“By any chance, will you be free after today’s project?”
“Me?”
“Yes. There’s something I want to discuss.”
Leon tilted his head but answered readily.
“Well, I’ve got time to spare.”
Just then, Yenika rose from her seat.
“Then I’ll head off first. That’s all the work for today.”
“Good work, Yenika.”
At Arthur’s words, Yenika left.
Leon turned back and asked,
“So what is it you want to talk about? Don’t tell me you suddenly want to collaborate with me…”
“Ah, not collaboration. How about we work on a job together, Your Highness?”
“…A job?”
“Yes. A job. One you’ll likely find interesting.”
Leon blinked.
*‘A job? Out of the blue?’*
As he tilted his head in doubt, Arthur grinned brightly.
“Won’t you go on a trip with me?”
“…”
“I got my hands on a certain ticket. Turns out it allows for a companion, too.”
The Prince blinked.
“Out of nowhere?”
“Yes.”
“…That’s the job? I don’t swing that way, you know.”
“What are you talking about? Neither do I.”
Leon tilted his head again.
“Then why do you want to travel with me?”
Arthur’s lips twisted into a sly smile.
“The owner of that travel agency owes me money. But instead of repaying, he’s been hiding.”
“….”
“So I intend to track him down myself. And if Your Highness comes with me, it’ll be a huge help.”
The Prince’s eyes widened.
“You… truly are unpredictable.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re asking me to help with a killing… aren’t you?”
Arthur shrugged.
“Technically, yes. But once you hear, I think you’ll be tempted.”
“Tempted?”
“Yes. The man’s a slave merchant.”
“A slave merchant?”
“Yes. He even runs auctions these days.”
Interest flickered in Leon’s eyes at the explanation.
*A slave merchant… one who even hosts auctions.*
From what he’d heard, it was the kind of criminal who deserved immediate execution.
The question was why Arthur Bayern wanted him dead.
*‘If it’s a debt… did something go wrong while buying a slave?’*
Leon shook his head. He couldn’t picture Arthur Bayern buying slaves.
Then, was it for justice?
Again Leon shook his head. That made even less sense.
Thus, still puzzled, Leon asked again.
“I don’t mind joining you… but can’t you tell me the reason more precisely?”
“The reason?”
“I need to at least know the situation, so I can prepare something.”
Arthur nodded.
“Mm… true. Then I’ll just say it outright.”
“Outright?”
“Yes. The slave merchant—currently the master of the slave auction house, Hamburg Erison…”
Leon’s eyes gleamed with curiosity.
“…is the one raising the slush funds for Count Cain Dormund. You understand what that means, right?”
Leon’s lips curled.
“Ho… now I see. What a fascinating story.”
“Isn’t it? I told you it’d be interesting.”
Leon’s eyes sparkled as he leaned forward.
“I’ll accept. But can you tell me more about this Hamburg Erison fellow?”
—
