1

Izumi hadn't slept so soundly in a long time. As much as she liked to sleep, ever since her mid-twenties, she had been troubled by chronic insomnia, which rendered her sleep routine irregular and fragmented.

The cause was probably chiefly of the psychological kind.

Now she had been freed of all mundane causes of stress in her old life and her mind took full advantage of the fact. The inn's bed was by far the softest and the most comfortable she had ever rested in, and with the sword-obsessed princess out of the picture, there was no reason not to enjoy it.

And yet, as peacefully as the night had passed, when Izumi finally awoke in the early morning, what she sensed first was inexplicable discomfort. She found she had trouble breathing. It was as if a heavy weight was pressing on her stomach. She couldn't move her hips either. Had the blanket always been this heavy? Had she been injured without even realizing it? Was it the supper? Or was it just one of the many unknown, mysterious ways that old age did its tricks?

It was none of those.

As Izumi grew accustomed to the brightness of daylight coming through the window, she found that no blanket, sprain, or disease was responsible for the odd pressure on her.

It was the fact that someone was lying on top of her.

Izumi didn't think she would ever experience this awkward situation—waking up in the bed with another person, with no memory of how things got that way—but that was precisely the position she was in now.

Although, there were some noteworthy differences to the traditional scenario.

“Greetings to you,” the Lord of Light told Izumi with a wide smile, her face a bare hair's breadth away from the woman's. “It is now morning. It is now time to be up and about, Itaka Izumi.”

For a spirit, this being carried an undeniably tangible presence.

It wasn't daybreak that had stirred Izumi.

It was the Divine, radiating pure light.

“I didn't think it could really happen, but my popularity sure skyrocketed since coming to this world,” Izumi remarked.

“My apologies for coming uninvited,” Aiwesh continued, staring at the woman with her gemstone eyes, which were like round windows straight into the sun's blazing corona, “but since last night, I have been awaiting the opportunity to have a prolonged conversation with you, and simply could not contain myself. Thus, I came to grace you with my no-good presence as soon as the first rays of the sun swept over the land. Remember what my beloved vessel told you before? Something about 'light' being the element of my no-good self? You would remember that much, at least, no? I do not need to go out of my way to explain what it means, do I? Indeed. When it is day and the sun traverses the heavens, gracing us with its sovereign brilliance—I rule.”

“I feel you have plenty of dark in you, though.”

“Whatever do you mean?” the Divine's smile widened further. “Are you perhaps insinuating that I am one to abuse my authority, the gift bestowed upon me by my creator, for the base purpose of tormenting the little, ephemeral beings that fill the land? Only because I happen to not approve of their shameful words and deeds? Oh no, not at all. I am beyond all that. Unlike my less mature brothers and sisters, I, as a Lord, happen to possess an exceptional—should I say, transcended—level of patience and composure, as you may now verify with your own, limited vision.”

“R-right...”

“My humble desire at this point of time is merely to remind you of how things here stand, seeing as you are all new to the customs of our world. To teach you that in Ortho, the strength you seem to take great pride and confidence in is only the strength of a vicious rat, and that you would do well not to push your luck. Take care, Itaka Izumi, not to burn yourself chasing after the sun with only feeble wings of wax on your back.”

“Hey, I understood that reference.”

“Yes, yes,” Aiwesh ignored her and continued, “now that I have the opportunity, allow me to share you something else of intrigue. About yourself, that is. Based on what my cute vessel has naively suggested, you are probably under the impression that you were chosen as a champion by my magic, above all for your personal excellence. Because you are a warrior with a mind of steel, body of iron, and spirit of fire, peerless among your modest people, fit to become the protector of men in this land. Am I correct?”

“How should I know?” Izumi said. “Probably not, right?”

“No way! Do you not think that the magical abduction of such an outstanding figure from among your peoples would only cause extravagant marvel and mayhem? The spell would not be wisely plotted if it were to draw another world's ire upon ours, instead of saving it, no? Not at all, the true standards behind your selection were something else—the opposite, in fact.”

Leaning closer, so close that their noses were practically touching, Aiwesh whispered,

“It is to be completely, so totally, unquestionably, absolutely——unneeded. To be a person of no importance to anyone, of no consequence anywhere, whom no one in the world would miss, should she disappear without a trace, without a word of explanation. So that it would not matter one bit even were she to never return. Aye. Because return you never will, Itaka Izumi. The Divines, not even the Gods themselves, may use the Grand Summon however they please. After all, it is a ritual playing not only on the laws of this one world but two's. You could only be brought to Ortho because the time of the Covenant draws near, and it was not the whims of the Gods that decided when it should happen. No, the timing of it was written in the very stars of both our respective universes.”

“So, there really is no way for me to ever go home?” Izumi asked. “Not even by an accident?”

“No, there is no way,” Aiwesh heartlessly confirmed.

“Oh, thank God,” the woman sighed in relief and relaxed.

For a moment, the Lord of Light was left silent.

“...Do you perhaps doubt my word?” she finally asked.

“You mean, you were lying?”

“No, I was not...”

“Then I'll believe you.”

“You do? Do you not miss your own world? Do you not wish to see your home again? Your family? Your companions? Your loved ones?”

“Not at all?”

“You lie.”

“Why would I?”

“Do you believe your world is so much worse than Ortho?” the spirit asked. “When I summoned you, I was briefly able to glance at your land. Was it not one of perfect peace and order, nigh devoid of crime and war? Are you not in perfect health and strength of body, as a testament of your land's prosperity?”

“You should've looked closer,” Izumi only replied.

The Divine frowned.

“I wonder how long you will be able to hold onto that impression? For there is something you know not.”

“And that is?”

“A champion by trade or not, you were summoned in what is the thirty-third cycle of the Covenant. It so happens this cycle is to be special. The last one, as a matter of fact. It was thus prophecised by the last God to depart from Ortho, while only us Lords were there to hear it. This could be tied to your fate. Would you like to hear his words?”

“Not really. But I don't get to skip cutscenes on my first playthrough, do I?”

“'On a day of the thirty-three thousandth summer',” the Lord of Light recited, “'a Champion comes from the stars who is unlike the rest, and by the Champion's hand, the Covenant will be broken. The world of Ortho will be plunged from the Age of the Covenant into the Age of Chaos, and everything created before it will be reduced to ruin.'”

For once, it was a prophecy that wasted no time getting to the point, Izumi thought.

“There are many prophecies about the Covenant,” Aiwesh said, “of divine origin and others not so much. But this is the one all the wise of the world now take a great interest in. You must see why. Are you the one the prophecy speaks of? Will you destroy the long-cherished pact of the Gods, bringing death to our world, Itaka Izumi? What do you think?”

For once, Izumi remained silent.

Of course, she didn't want to destroy the world that she had always dreamed about.

But would destiny force her to?

“Too bad!” Aiwesh suddenly lightened her tone. “Though I would like to keep you in suspense a little while longer—the truth is, no one can say for certain. 'On a day of summer', the prophecy goes. Not terribly specific, is it? Is there not 'summer' somewhere around this round globe for most part of the year? The interpretation is deliberately vague, and it was for that reason that I was able to summon you, though only the first flowers of spring bloom in Langoria. To be honest, I did not know if I could. Turns out I could. But my being able to do so also means that every able and willing Divine Lord in our vast world will be busily summoning their own champions until the Night of the Covenant. Not all of them are of the good-natured variety, if any. Many, many eyes will be looking for travelers from another world...Including the hawkish daemons.”

“So there are monsters in this world?” Izumi asked.

“Monsters?” Aiwesh repeated. “Ah, nightmares. Entertain this thought while you are at it. Not all the summoned people have your appetite and readiness for slaughter, if all that is demanded is being unwanted. Most of them will perish like infants, devoured by the darkness where they are delivered. But, those who do survive such a crucible and in time claim name as genuine champions...Those are the kind of folk my dear vessel must face on the way to the Trophaeum.”

“I do feel for her,” Izumi said, “but what do you want from me, really? That I should help Yule win the tower game, save the world despite the prophecy, and put all the evil people out of job?”

“I wonder! How about giving it some thought?”

“But, even if I did try to help Yule, isn't the risk pretty big that I'll really end up destroying the world in the process? Wouldn't it be better to steer clear from the whole business, then?”

“In theory, perhaps,” the Divine Lord flapped her wings. “But in reality? I have weighed you, Itaka Izumi, and you are no threat to me. Even if you came to desire the destruction of the world, how would you do so while you sit on the palm of my hand? Like this.”

The Divine's radiance appeared to intensity, as though the ceiling had been torn off to let the sun blaze unhindered into the little room. At the same time, it got hot. Intensely hot.

“Could you tone it down?” Izumi squinted. “I don't tan well.”

In response, Aiwesh giggled and squeezed her chest tighter against Izumi. The light faded.

“I jest! All that being said, you are a human of interest to me. Even now, seeing me in all my glory, you do not fear me?”

“I do think you're plenty scary,” Izumi answered. “But I've seen things that scare me a lot more. Like my country's unemployment offices. Or Twitter's reaction to a video game I've been looking forward to.”

“Pu—hahahaha!” The Divine spirit burst into bright laughter.

Then, quickly pushing herself forward, the Lord of Light extended her neck and planted a kiss right in the middle of Izumi's forehead.

“………..”

This could be a bit bad.

Feeling like her brain had caught fire, the room swayed in Izumi's eyes. Her whole body tickled feverishly. As she wondered what was happening to her, Aiwesh next pulled out a piece of paper with various foreign symbols scribbled on it, from somewhere in the folds of her extravagant dress.

“To be illuminated by divine knowledge in the darkness of wordly ignorance is the inmost desire of men.” Holding the list up in front of the woman's face, the spirit pointed at the first line. “Well, what does this say?”

To Izumi's surprise, the meaning corresponding to each symbol immediately surfaced on her dizzy mind. On the first line was written her own name, in the local alphabet.

“Then, the second?”

It read, “Aiwesh”. The name could also be read as, “white flame”.

On the third line was Yuliana's name. On the fourth, Luctretz.

“Congratulations, you are now able to read!” the Lord of Light cheerfully announced and threw away the list, which burned to cinders before reaching the floor. “Please make good use of this exceedingly rare talent!”

Izumi had to admit she was impressed.

The nauseous feeling slowly faded and the room steadied itself in her sight.

“You can do all that,” the woman said, “but your handwriting—it's really that bad?”

“Your bravery is most cute, 'auntie',” Aiwesh's smile turned eerie. “But for now, I leave you, lest I break the boundaries of my authority. Good luck on your journey, 'champion'.”

“Could you return to the other room first...?”—Izumi was about to ask, but it was already too late.

In a burst of brilliant, illusory feathers of light, just like last night, the Lord of Light returned to spirit form, freeing her possessed vessel. And in her place, naturally, appeared the figure of the young knight princess, looking like she had been sleeping the whole time her body was so whimsically puppeteered.

Now stirring, Yuliana slowly opened her eyes…

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“I see. So you're the type who sleeps naked,” Izumi noted.

“Eh...? Hi….!?”

As expected of a proper knight, Yuliana's situational awareness returned at commendable swiftness, and so did the redness of her face.

Naturally, her armor had been left in Izumi's room last night, and the princess had hung her wet dress and other garments to dry after her bath. Meaning, she was now in the same state of dress as when she had gone to bed, with only the blanket between the two.

“A...a...a...M-MY APOLOGIES…!” the girl cried and dashed out of the room like a flash of lightning.

“At least cover yourself first…” Izumi sighed, as more shocked cries carried from the hallway.

2

In daylight, when she was at her strongest, the Divine was able to manifest at will, without depending on Yuliana, her vessel, to perform the ritual to summon her. Was the girl even aware of what she had gotten herself into when making the pact with such a being? There were powerful, devious beings in the world, and not all of them were benevolent. And then there was a prophecy about an impending apocalypse.

Izumi felt like developing an acute migraine at the breakfast table, but she soon pushed the troublesome thoughts off her mind. How could she keep feeling down, when there was a whole new world waiting to be explored?

Her enthusiasm wouldn't stick to her companion, though.

“I...am no longer fit for marriage...” the knight princess lamented across the table, sighing for the hundredth time.

“I thought you didn't want to, in the first place,” Izumi reminded her, taking a sip from her mug—and nearly spat it out. Instead of coffee, it was only something that tasted like lukewarm, unsweetened blackcurrant juice.

Does this world have no coffee? I'm not going to live…

“It's not that I don't want to,” Yuliana mumbled. “Is it not every maiden's dream to be united with a loving, trustworthy partner in a timeless romance—ah.” Recalling Izumi's backstory, she interrupted herself. “W-well, not that it's possible, in some cases. I have resolved to walk this solitary path to its end. For my family and my people. In any case, lady Izumi, may I inquire upon your plans for the day?”

Why the sudden formality?

“Well,” Izumi pondered, “I was thinking about giving that quest board another go.”

“You mean to say you were serious about becoming a mercenary?” Yuliana still didn't seem to find the idea a good one. “You certainly displayed great skill yesterday, I do not dispute that, but is it really the line of business where you would find success? Considering how little you know about...”

“I said I'd just give it a try, geez,” Izumi waved off her concerns. “I'm not expecting to hit big straight off the bat. We'll see how it goes later.”

“You really have not a worry in the world, do you? Very well. You need me to read them for you, right? Or,” the princess added with a playful smile, “have you perhaps learned to read overnight?”

I learned to read in the morning, though. Izumi wondered how she should break the news, but the princess wouldn't give her the time to speak.

“Since we're going the same way, would you mind if we stop somewhere first? I asked the manager and apparently there is a blacksmith's shop right across the town square. Since it seems there is no choice but to purchase myself a new weapon, why don't we pay it a visit?”

“Oh...right.”

The marketplace had changed dramatically in appearance during the early hours of the morning. The townspeople and traveling peddlers had set up dozens of colorful little tents, stands, and tables, from one corner of the spacious plaza to the next. In the shade of those stalls, everything from meat and fish to fruits and vegetables, spices, belts, baubles, rugs, hats, and other miscellaneous goods, was busily traded.

Numerous people filled the walkways between the sellers. There were locals, tourists, rich and not, browsing the selection with their scrutinizing gazes, at times pausing to engage in a loud bidding war with a vendor. Or, simply to exchange news and greetings.

Listening to all that noise made Yuliana feel at ease. It reminded her of the liveliness of the mornings in the capital of Langoria that she had left behind.

In all this hustle and bustle, the pair of women didn't stand out much either. The princess led the way, with Izumi a few paces behind. She had expected the woman from the other world to be more awed by the heavy traffic, yet it was like she didn't even see the crowds. Had her hometown been this densely populated as well?

Passing through the markets, Yuliana purchased herself a hooded cloak to hide her ornate armor—in her kingdom's deep blue colors, still—and another for Izumi. She also bought a cloth in which to wrap the eye-catching blade of the Amygla. It all cost her twenty-six coppers in total. The princess didn't bother to haggle, but put down a coin of silver and told the garb seller to keep the change.

They went on and found their destination soon enough.

If the armory shop's refined exterior was of any indication, business was doing well. Decorated with black-painted plates and an artistic badge, the shop had its name spelled in big, white letters above the wide display window.

Garlann's Steel & Smithing.

The dignity of a princess and the confidence of a knight guiding her hand, Yuliana entered the shop.

The interior was a step above even the facade in class. A polished wood floor, skillfully paneled walls, a sparkling clean sales counter, covered with a polished plate of marble.

And there were weapons.

Beautiful yet practical-looking swords, daggers, knives, axes, hatchets, and maces were hung up on the walls or set up on display stands around the shop. There were also armors, thick chest plates, vambraces, shin guards, chain mails, gloves, helmets, and pauldrons. Everything and anything a mercenary or a guard might need in his line of duty.

Behind the counter stood a large man—apparently the smith himself—his body buffed into respectable proportions by his physical trade and its not-so-modest rewards. Perhaps to further augment his credibility, he had grown out his black beard. The smith had wrapped a black scarf with elaborate white patterns around his otherwise bald head. From under his bushy brows, a pair of near-black eyes greeted the customers.

“Morning, good master,” Yuliana said to him.

“Top of the mornin’ to ye,” the blacksmith greeted her back.

“Are you called Garlann?” she asked.

“No, I am Wilbough. Garlann was my great-grandfather, he founded the shop, and I've been too damn busy to change the bloody name,” the man replied without batting an eye. He had to have heard the question upward a thousand times, making it a pretty bad opener. “What's it gonna be? Are ye prepared to buy somethin' or just pleasin' yer fair eyes?”

“Did we perhaps come at a bad time? Maybe we should look elsewhere.”

“Where else? There's not one armory that's worth anyone's salts in this town. Don't get upset. It's just, I don't see a lot of womenfolk shopping here, if it's not a gift for some poor sod, and in those cases it's usually the price and not practicality that matters. But I only make steel that lasts, so you're not in luck if that's your business.”

Though the man's manners left a lot to be desired in the princess's opinion, she let it be and answered,

“I do want a gift, for myself, on my travels. A good sword that lasts but doesn't have my purse as its first victim.”

“If ye don't wanna get killed, ye had best be ready to shed some blood,” the store owner shrugged, well-used to such rhetoric.

The princess and the smith proceeded to go through the various weapons on display, while Izumi surveyed the selection a step behind by herself, absorbed in thought.

To attain the necessary qualifications as a “hero”, she had attempted to master various “classes”, and blacksmith was one of the first iconic roles she had tried. Although, the forge Izumi had spent her apprenticeship at was far from medieval. They marketed themselves as traditionalists, but used modern machinery and processed factory steel to create their goods—which were mainly movie replicas for collectors and other cheap decorations.

Izumi had quit after a few months, disillusioned, but she did retain a bit of knowledge on the trade, at least.

It seems this world's blacksmiths know how to produce inox steel, but is it made using chromium, as on Earth, some equivalent local element, or do they enchant it with magic?

Enchanting weapons was a common mechanic in video games, and an easy way to make one a stronger fighter. If there was a way to enchant the Amygla and further augment its deadliness, it could have made her life easier. Izumi wanted to ask the blacksmith, but not knowing some common material or method could have attracted trouble, so she held her tongue.

To what degree did this world's physics overlap with those of her own, and how much was foreign fantasy? It could take a lifetime to discover. Was there any point in even trying?

Izumi soon gave up on her speculations and returned to idle window-shopping.

If—just if—she were to return the holy sword to its rightful bearer and pick up another one for adventuring, which should she take?

The regular long swords looked too light and frail. The axes were poorly balanced. The other larger weapons had design flaws that rendered them susceptible to breaking under their own mass. Each time a potential candidate showed up, it ultimately failed on the last question of, “would it cut through dragon scales?”

Izumi had never seen a real dragon, obviously, so she used video games and movies for reference and tried to imagine it.

Doubtful. Not likely. Doesn't seem like it. No way. Probably not.

Using dragons as the standard for judging a weapon was admittedly senseless, but that was not the point.

Looking at the Amgyla, the answer came to her right away.

Absolutely. If this doesn't—then nothing will.

No weapon in the shop could measure up to Langoria's treasure in quality, not surprisingly. And because of that, she didn’t feel like trusting any of them with her life. Izumi glanced at Yuliana and the blacksmith again. The girl was examining a lighter sword, a rapier-style blade with an elaborate hand guard. Though she pretended to be critical, it was obvious the knight princess was pleased with the design. Considering the future ahead of them, it didn’t really matter what she chose, but…

“How much would you ask for this?” the princess asked.

“That would be fifty-five in silver,” the smith responded.

“Oh, fifty-five, is it…?” Yuliana's expression immediately clouded.

Izumi had had her suspicions for some time, but now she was convinced.

She's never gone shopping in her life, this girl!

As a princess, as a soldier, everything Yuliana ever needed—and more—had always been provided for her, and she had no wants outside of that. And the inexperience was depressingly apparent on her face now.

“It is rather costly to my current budget, but...”

“Hey now, lassie! I told this the first thing, did I not?” the blacksmith berated her in his loud voice. “The blade's yer companion! It's who ye entrust yer life to! Would ye expect to be saved by somebody ye haven't bled for first? True partnership is more than pretty words. It takes sacrifices! Otherwise it just ain't worth squat.”

—“Well, neither is this,” Izumi cut in, snatching the rapier from Yuliana's hands.

She twisted the slim blade into a clean U-shape with her bare hands and set it back on the counter. “Tempered in a too low temperature and too low on carbon. You didn't forge this yourself, did you? It's secondhand. There’s nothing remotely in its style on display. Let me guess, it was left by another shopper when they purchased a new one? My, is this how you run business, ripping off naive customers with low grade goods?”

“Huh!?” the blacksmith's eyes widened, his face turning red.

He probably hadn't intended to deceive Yuliana, or at least didn't consider it deception on his own part. There was nothing particularly weird about selling used weapons, as sketchy as Izumi had made it sound. His fluster was half anger at the accusation, half shame at acknowledging that the practice didn’t sound too dignified.

“Is that it, really?” Izumi continued, not letting the man think things through. “My, my. And here I thought this place had standards! I wonder what my friends will think when they hear such a story? Everyone was telling me what a quality shop this is—among the finest in the country—yet you don't even make the things you sell! That's what I get for buying into hype. It's like preordering a game just because of the developer's empty promises, and then it doesn't even have a multiplayer mode!”

“Lady Izumi, aren't you being a bit unreasonab—hnghh——!” Sensing evil from her companion, the knight princess felt the need to step up in defense of the pressured blacksmith, but Izumi's hand rudely groping her buttock silenced her on the spot.

“Oh, but I'm still willing to give you a chance to save face, good sir,” Izumi continued in a syrupy tone. “I'm not like my jaded friends, I want to believe in the developers' honesty! You give my friend a proper weapon for a proper price, and you get a good review instead of a poor one, on top of your coin. Five stars and a thumbs up. How's that sound?”

Still beef-red, the blacksmith angrily leaned over the counter,

“I have no idea what yer tryin' to pull with that blabber, but yer not the first one stirring shit at my shop. And neither will ye be the first one to fail. I don't look that kind of fishy business with a kind eye. If ye didn't happen to be of the fairer sex, they'd be takin' you to the stocks by now. So drop it!”

Yuliana felt trapped before a black bear about to lunge at their throats, too tense to speak. But Izumi wouldn't back down so easily,

“That's sexism and hate speech. You sure have some guts, uncle, threatening your customers after trying to rip them off. How do you stay in business with a misogynistic attitude like that, in this day and age? Do you, by chance, have family with the dwarves?”

“….”

Izumi had only said it under the idea that dwarves were an entirely unknown concept in this world, which the blacksmith would go on to interpret as a vague ethnic insult either way. She didn't really care if they got chased out, and was mostly only being mean out of the foulness of her character by this point. But against her expectations, the large man suddenly fell quiet, drew a deep breath, slowly withdrew behind the counter again.

Crossing his barrel-like arms, the smith then said,

“...And do tell—if yer eye be so good—what ye think among my wares qualifies as 'proper' to ye?”

“That broadsword behind you, up on the wall, second from up,” Izumi immediately answered. “Yes, that one with the bulky guard.”

“This?” the blacksmith contorted his thick brows and took down the weapon in question. It was a simple, short cavalry sword, with a blade of about thirty-five inches and a guard styled after a ram's image. It had been put where it was, above the doorway, not because it deserved to be looked at, but because it didn't take up too much space there. Apparently, the man had expected her to aim for the costlier products.

“Yes, looks nice, ring it up for me and we're good.”

Even if it wasn't his best, or the most beautiful, it was still an undeniably good sword, among the first saleworthy he had made, and the blacksmith wasn't too happy to give it away to these troublesome women.

“This blade is worth eighty-two in silver, but to tidy up our little argument, I am willing to part with it for sixty...two.”

“No good, uncle,” Izumi shook her head. “We'll pay you thirty and advertise you on our travels. I'll even write about you on Facebook.”

“Thirty!? Ye'd better be a blasted nightingale for that! No way, keep my face off your books! Ye ain't takin' it from my willin' hands for anywhere close to thirty! Fifty-seven. See? I'm lowerin' it by five, which is already far better than ye deserve.”

“Why are you still acting like it's worth anything and you're not already swimming in gold? At least suck that stomach in, if you're going to put on airs. Thirty-five and not a copper more. See, I raised by five! That's a massive amount of money by your standards!”

“Don't twist my words! I stay in business because people pay what I ask. If I let whatever wench price my swords to her liking, I'd be soon sellin' my store while knee-deep in debt!”

“Are you calling names now? That insult just cost you three silver. Thirty-two.”

“Yer a serpent in human skin, that's what! Bah, fifty! That's as low as I go.”

“Reputation doesn't mean a thing to you, does it? Weren’t you preaching to my friend here about sacrifices a minute ago? Are you telling me you got this store to where it is without ever compromising? I will go as high as thirty-eight, out of respect for your handiwork.”

“What respect! Ye barge into my shop the first thing in the morning, throw insults and vile accusations in my face, in the way of scamming the fruit of my sweat n' tears off my hands! Respect would see ye both whipped silly and why I haven't already called the guards is beyond me! But, as apparently the only adult here, I am still willin' to put this lunacy to rest, if ye either count fifty pieces of silver right there on the table—or else bugger off whence ye came!”

“Now it's whipping? I don't want to hear your fantasies, pervert! This isn't language fit for my innocent cousin—see how her face has paled? Yes, let's call the guards straight away! We'll see which they'll deem honest here. Oh, don't worry, sweetheart! I won't let this mean half-ogre do you any harm...”

“Eh, w-what are you—mmph!?”

Izumi pulled Yuliana's face into her soft bosom and pretended to console her, while in fact preventing her from getting away or saying anything unnecessary.

There was naturally no way for the healthy blacksmith to maintain his composure before such a sight.

“Gaaah, fine, fine!” he averted his face. “Ye pay forty now and yer word that I'll never see ye in my blasted shop again, for as long as it stands!”

“Count the good man his coin, hun,” Izumi released Yuliana, who looked rather disoriented, and had excessive difficulty counting the forty coins of silver from her purse. The inn had taken four, one more had been spent on the market, meaning they were left with only five now. Having essentially wasted her travel expenses in the very beginning of their journey wasn't a good sign, but the princess was in no state to worry about it now.

I suppose we really need to find work next.