"This is quite an expensive and prestigious item, but you must agree, magnificent!" exclaimed the merchant, hopping around me like a mountain goat. "No one else has armor like this! The master who created it assured me he would not make a second one. I wanted to offer it to the eldest son of our count, but seeing the interest in your eyes, if the price suits you, sir..."
After finishing inspecting the armor, I finally paid attention to the bustling merchant:
"Yes, I really do like the armor. And I would undoubtedly have bought it, but it's clearly too small for me. And its design is such that only the master who made it could adjust it to fit my figure without disrupting the overall composition and beauty of the lines."
"What are you saying! Our city is famous for its smiths, and they will tailor it to your figure, keeping all the proportions intact."
"And still, such meticulous work would take them at least a week," I clucked my tongue in apparent regret. "It would be faster to forge a new one than to alter this to fit me. And I, to my great regret, do not have that much free time."
"How can it be faster to make a new one? What are you saying?!" The merchant threw up his hands. "Just look at these lacquered planks, how the tanned leather fits over the steel! And these knots and ties, they are beautiful in themselves! You can't make something like this in two weeks, no matter how hard you try!"
He doesn't know about Katashi and his unhealthy workaholism! I'm sure it took the Japanese no more than five days to create this do-maru. Provided, of course, he didn't make the wooden blanks himself and didn't work on the leather, ordering these parts from elsewhere, and personally only forged the metal parts and assembled everything together in the final stage.
"May I take a closer look at the armor?" I asked, as if in doubt.
"Of course!" Feeling my interest, the merchant became even more animated. "You must agree, this armor looks very unusual! Look at these lines, the lacquered wood over steel – simply an incredible find! Just look at how noble it looks. This armor is unique. The master who created it didn't want to sell it at all for a long time. I had to put in a lot of effort to persuade him! As I was told, he refused many merchants who wanted to buy it. And only after learning that I was from Stolmid did the blacksmith finally agree to sell this masterpiece!"
As the shopkeeper rambled on, I meticulously examined the armor. With each word from the merchant, it became harder for me to hide my smile. A masterpiece, indeed. What I saw before me was undoubtedly one of Katashi's failed experiments. To the local blacksmiths' standards, everything was made quite decently. There was no over-hardening of the steel plates, no chips, and certainly no cracks. All the fittings were done properly, and the external decoration, all that lacquered wood and rich silk, was executed very well. However, I noticed that each plate of this lamellar armor varied in thickness and color, suggesting that each element was tempered differently. It seemed as if the master who made them constantly changed his tempering technique. The shoulder guards were also forged in different styles, then "retouched" to hide this, covered with silk and tied with bows. The back protection was done in a classic Japanese style, but the fittings of many segments also varied. No, all these flaws I noticed did not make the armor bad by the standards of local masters. But knowing Katashi, I'm sure he himself considered this armor to be nothing but a defective product. More precisely, an experimental model on which he practiced various technologies. Most likely, the Japanese never intended to sell it and planned to recycle it. Perhaps this armor was lying around in a corner of his workshop until this merchant spotted it. Moreover, the shopkeeper's words indirectly confirm my thoughts. Katashi, apparently, allowed himself to be persuaded to sell this armor only when he learned that the merchant would take it to the other end of the Rur region.
"Yes, I understand that for the ordinary work of a tunneller," noticing how I finished my inspection, the merchant hurried, "this armor is not very suitable. A few unlucky hits and the wooden planks might crack or even break, and the silk ties could tear in battle. But all this can be easily repaired afterward, and besides, the main advantage of this armor is how beautiful it looks. In such attire, it's not shameful to appear even before the royal court!"
"How much?" I asked out of curiosity.
"Two hundred and fifty gold coins, which is very little, considering the uniqueness of the armor!"
'How much?' I thought, amazed at the merchant's audacity. The price was inflated at least threefold, considering the armor was made of ordinary steel and wood and carried no magic.
"I brought this armor to the city quite recently, and several respected people have already set their sights on it," the shopkeeper, trying to assert his independence, attempted to hike up the price. "But if sir is interested, I will sell it to you for just two hundred and forty gold coins!"
Pretending to haggle for show, I skillfully questioned the merchant during our bargaining, making him reveal the place where he acquired the armor. Since I needed nothing more from him, I put on a sorrowful expression and "confessed" that such an expensive item was currently beyond my means. But if the shop owner could wait a couple of months, by which time I would save up the money, then... Naturally, the merchant did not accept such an offer, which I had hoped for. In the end, glancing back at the armor and shaking my head in dismay, I left the shop without buying anything.
Stepping out onto the street and inhaling the fresh night air, I looked up at the sky. Based on the position of Seguna relative to the stars, I estimated it was about nine in the evening. Although the sun had set more than an hour and a half ago, not everyone in the city was preparing to sleep, and dim light from lanterns shone in the windows of many houses.
Returning to the inn, I had a hearty dinner and ordered a couple of mugs of beer. While sipping it, I loudly told the nearest drunkard the story I had witnessed at the gates of the Temple of Dawn Glimmer, making sure the entire tavern could hear. My story elicited precisely the reactions I expected. I was sure everyone who listened to my words made quite a definite conclusion about the moral and mental abilities of Baron Reuter's younger son and heir. I spoke only the truth, albeit embellishing a few moments to emphasize the right points.
After finishing my beer and my story, I listened to myself and realized I wouldn't be able to sleep tonight. All my thoughts, like angry bees, buzzed around one theme: "I found Katashi!" Or rather, not yet, but I knew where to find him. I wanted to drop everything right then and, gathering my belongings, head west to the small village of Hamna, located near the city of Bordum in the western part of the Rur region, about three days' journey from where I was at the moment. It took a lot of effort to restrain myself and not rush there headlong. It would be unnecessary, and as they say, haste is only needed when catching fleas.
Ordering another mug of frothy beer, I asked one of the servants to run to the craftsman who was making me a new backpack and find out if it would be impolite to visit him at such a late hour. The servant was gone for only a short while and brought back news that the craftsman would be happy to see me, as he had some clarifying questions. Downing the beer in one gulp, I briefly went up to my room. I checked my belongings and, taking the most valuable things with me, as well as my gambeson, visited the tailor's workshop for the second time that day.
The young craftsman greeted me at the door, and as soon as I entered, he immediately bombarded me with questions. He was somewhat unclear about some of the designs I had left and doubted whether he had understood me correctly. When I offered to stay and help with the backpack's fabrication, he responded with joyful agreement. It was evident that the craftsman was passionate about his work and was very excited to create something new and so unusual. Eventually, we spent another whole hour discussing the details, altering the pattern drawings on the fly. Somehow, this led to an essentially new project, more spacious and externally resembling the tourist backpacks I was familiar with. However, it was only externally similar, as its construction was quite different, taking into account my experience from "my" hikes in the Last Cycle. It had a sturdy leather base, a flexible, detachable frame providing rigidity, and a wide, palm-sized, also leather, semi-belt securely fixing the backpack at the waist. The young master was particularly impressed by the strap design I proposed. Straps that could be tightened and adjusted at any moment. He was genuinely shocked that such a convenient feature required only attaching two rings, through which the straps could be threaded, allowing easy adjustment of their length and tension. The external attachments on the backpack that I suggested, where anything from a kettle or a food basket to various bundles could be hung, were a revelation to him.
With my assistance, the work progressed much faster. Whenever the craftsman encountered difficulties or questions, he received an immediate answer. It was also very convenient to work when both people possessed the magic of Illusion, albeit at a basic level, and could clarify their words with a drawing or a diagram. After we finished with the lining and selecting materials, and the craftsman began cutting, I asked for permission to walk around the workshop.
While the main focus of this workshop was working with fabric and leather, I found what I was looking for: several jars of paint. Choosing the most neutral one, the color of stormy sea waves, I asked the master for another favor. Of course, not for free. He readily agreed and called his apprentice, who did everything I asked. Specifically, he covered all of Gianni Armani's "artwork" on my gambeson with a thick layer of paint. Then, using domestic magic, he dried the new coating and made it resistant to wear. I should have done this long ago; I was quite tired of those bright butts, even having to make a cotta. Though the cloak turned out beautiful thanks to Valena's embroidery, so no regrets there. Promising that the paint would fully set by dawn, the apprentice took the gambeson outside to dry and then, with the young master's permission, went to sleep.
Interestingly, while the apprentice was painting my gambeson, the young master constantly shielded our pattern drawings from his view. Apparently, he didn't trust the helper much and feared he might steal the new design of the hiking backpack. I pretended not to notice this precaution. I didn't care about these secrets; in fact, I would be happy if all my innovations spread throughout Ain as quickly as possible.
It was good that I decided to come and help with the work. If I hadn't, I would have received something completely different from what I expected in the morning. Even though we constantly consulted each other, we still had to redo it three times. Nevertheless, an hour after dawn, I finally got exactly what I wanted: a spacious and, most importantly, convenient backpack that one could run, climb, or push through dense thickets with.
The price turned out to be almost twice as high as agreed due to the amount of material wasted, but it was definitely worth it. Besides, twenty silver coins were not too much to regret. Yes, the backpack cost, excluding the craftsman's labor, was not very high since we didn't use any special or rare materials, nor did we resort to alchemy, using magic only to speed up the work. Essentially, any tunneller from the Bronze level could afford such a backpack without significantly straining their finances. I'm sure that once I walk through the city streets with this new gear on my back, its convenience and capacity will be instantly recognized, and the young master will soon be overwhelmed with new orders.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Local craftsmen, indeed, amaze with their skill and speed. Take, for example, Earth's artisans who weave chainmail. For an earthly blacksmith, creating even the simplest chainmail takes from one hundred fifty to two hundred hours of work. If it's a complex, tightly woven type with long sleeves, the time investment skyrockets, potentially exceeding a thousand man-hours. But a local smith of at least Steel Rank can accomplish this task at least twice as fast. Katashi, for instance, while still at Bronze, wove his second chainmail in Ain, taking just under three days! And if we consider masters of the Precious Coil, especially those with an Affinity with Metal, they can actually knit steel wire, like a woolen sweater. It takes them no more than a working day to produce a chainmail this way. Of course, a chainmail knitted from steel wire, rather than woven, has its drawbacks - it's less repairable and flexible than the usual kind. However, it's also more resilient and can be denser, leading to better protective properties. A handcrafted chainmail in just one day! No one on Earth would believe such a tale, but in Ain, it's quite ordinary, especially if a master of the Precious Stone Coil of the Spiral undertakes the creation.
Or consider my new backpack, which we sewed in just about ten hours with four hands. Any Earthly atelier specializing in custom tourist equipment would ask for at least a week, if not more, for such a task. The domestic and professional magic, along with the greater strength, precision, speed, and endurance of local masters compared to ordinary earthlings, create real labor miracles.
In the morning, after a quick breakfast, I donned the dried gambeson, and we did the final fitting, fixing a few minor details. Then, I went to the inn to fetch my belongings and returned to the workshop. While I was engaged in the "exciting" task of transferring my items from my bags to the new backpack, the master, at my request, made convenient straps for the temporary case holding Boundless Pride. Eventually, when my new gear was filled, we examined it again carefully, and the tailoring master made the final adjustments. The backpack felt almost weightless on my back, its weight seemingly dispersed across my shoulders, back, and lumbar support. We did such a good job that I could even fight without taking it off. Not for long and very carefully, but still! Most importantly, my hands were now free, and bag straps would no longer slide off my shoulders.
Warmly thanking the master, I left him a generous tip and, whistling a cheerful tune with a sincere smile on my face, exited the workshop. Despite a couple of sleepless nights, I felt quite lively and full of energy. So, I decided not to stay in Stolmid any longer and quickly left the city through the western gates.
After passing a small traffic jam at the city entrance caused by two trading caravans that couldn't properly navigate past each other, I naturally switched to running. I barely restrained myself from accelerating to the maximum and running the entire distance to Bordum as quickly as possible. What stopped me was the need for serious thought before meeting Katashi. Of course, I had long contemplated what to tell him and what to withhold. But earlier, these thoughts were purely speculative, and now I needed to consider specific details.
The most sensible approach would be not to rush headlong to meet Kay but to first find out about his situation. I needed to learn about the progress of the genius blacksmith, his rank, what he was involved in, and how far he had advanced in his research in Ain's blacksmithing. Based on this information, I would plan the upcoming dialogue.
In the Last Cycle, "I" spent a lot of time with the Japanese craftsman. I helped him not only in developing armor and weapons but even worked as an apprentice in his forge. Of course, "I" wasn't allowed to do anything serious, but "I" learned to wield a blacksmith's hammer and maintain a steady flow of air with the bellows. I even tried weaving chainmail from ready-made steel rings but quickly lost interest in the idea. What took me days, a good blacksmith easily did in a few hours. In Kay's group, "I" was not so much an apprentice but rather a theorist, tester, and resource supplier, so direct work at the forge was not mandatory for "me."
Based on what I saw in the armorer's shop, the do-maru indicated that Katashi is largely repeating the path he took in the Last Cycle. Back then, he began by getting accustomed to new tools and magic, as well as mastering the local nuances of blacksmithing, doing what he remembered well from his earthly life. He only started developing new armor and weapons when he was able to reproduce what he had made on Earth. And it must be said, his first attempts at creating unique armor, which in his opinion should have combined the strong points of both Earth and Ain's armory, were, to put it mildly, largely unsuccessful. One of my main tasks in meeting Kay is to help him avoid initial mistakes and direct him to the right path, as proven in the Last Cycle. But the more I think about it, the more apparent it becomes to me that such intervention from me is insufficient. If only I could hint at the future that awaits us to Katashi without violating the questers' ban... Such information, conveyed to the future god of Labor so early, could indeed change a lot. In fact, it might even have a greater impact than all my other efforts combined. Katashi is Katashi, and if he applies all his strength to achieve a goal, he will sweep everything in his path. With his workaholism, skill, and natural charisma that easily inspires people to follow him, he might be the only one who can turn disparate groups of Earthlings into a unified and, most importantly, effective mechanism. As a result, demons would face not small groups or guilds but a united army under competent command. A well-organized and well-armed army!
The only question was how to tell Kay about the future without being erased by the questers before I could say anything truly significant? I even switched from running to a quick pace, so captivated was I by this thought. I abandoned my training because solving this problem was more important than anything else. Walking along the road, I was deeply engrossed in my thoughts. Dozens of ideas, tricks, and possible hints all passed through my mind, and one after another, they were rejected.
Closer to noon, having left the road and descended into a small hollow, I stopped for a break, gathered some kindling, and lit a fire to heat up my lunch. I ate without tasting, so absorbed was I in my thoughts. I couldn't see the solution, but I was sure it existed; I just had to find it. As powerful as the questers might be, they are certainly not omniscient and make mistakes. I know this for sure, as I managed to kill one of them in the Last Cycle by luring him into a trap that an all-knowing entity would not have fallen into by definition. And if so, it must be possible to devise something to circumvent their ban on disclosing knowledge of the "future" and still stay alive. The answer must be there; I just haven't seen it yet.
Finishing my porridge, I rinsed the pot in the stream and filled it with water to extinguish the fire. As I turned towards the flames, I stopped dead in my tracks, mouth agape. Across the dying fire, on a stump, sat a quester. This time, he took the form of an ancient old man, very much resembling Gandalf from Peter Jackson's film trilogy. It was apparent that this was not just some local high-ranking mage but, indeed, a quester, identifiable by the characteristic glowing halo around his illusory body.
My first panicked thought was, "This is my end!" The pot in my hands trembled, spilling some water onto the ground. But a second passed, then another, and I was still alive, and the quester showed no hint of aggression. He just sat there, supporting his chin with his hand, looking at me with a slightly sad, tired gaze. To calm the slight trembling in my knees, I sat on a log and, placing the pot at my feet, clasped my hands together and silently stared at the uninvited guest. For a minute, we examined each other – I, gripped by a quiet panic, and the quester, whose thoughts were inscrutable to me. He just sat, his gaze feeling somehow heavy.
"We are not enemies," the quester finally broke the silence.
"I am far from such a simple and categorical thought," I replied, my voice rasping due to a suddenly dry throat.
"We have come to the conclusion that, considering your unique situation, we were initially not quite correct in our approach towards you."
I should have felt relieved by these words, but for some reason, I felt even more uneasy.
"I hope this is not an admission of error in leaving me alive?" I still found the strength to ask this question.
"It is not in our habits to break tools," the uninvited guest shrugged very humanly.
"And yet, it is very difficult not to perceive you as enemies." Understanding that I would not be erased right here and now, but also realizing that I was like an open book to the being opposite me, I decided to speak frankly. "All the trials you made us go through. The death of dozens, if not hundreds, of earthlings even before they set foot on Ain's lands... It's hard to interpret it any other way."
"Trials..." The quester drawled, picking up a twig and tossing it into the dying fire. "Sometimes necessity can be mistakenly taken for cruelty."
"Necessity?!" The memory of the first group trial flashed before my inner eye, and I raised my voice slightly.
"Yes," the quester answered reservedly and succinctly, ignoring my tone.
"If we are tools for you," I continued, regaining my composure and speaking in a cold, even detached voice, "wouldn't it be better to use us openly? Can a blind tool be as effective as one that sees?"
"Ha-ha-ha!"
His laughter reminded me of a crow's caw. After laughing, the quester leaned towards me and spoke softly:
"We tried."
"Tried?" I asked, not fully understanding what he meant.
"Besides the Cycles you know of, there was another one. The Zeroth. Or the trial. Or the test one – the name doesn't matter."
To say that I was all ears would be an understatement; I even forgot how to breathe.
"In that Cycle, there were no trials. We told you everything as it was."
"And?" I managed to say, as the quester fell silent after his statement.
"The outcome... was disastrous." In his gaze, I saw a surprising mix of bitterness and a smirk. "Nearly a third refused the Path of the Spiral, choosing the Path of Inaction. A vast number, driven by your strange earthly morality, actively opposed the clearing of dungeons, convincing others that killing even monsters was wrong. And their words resonated with many hearts. Pacifism and fear led to more than a third of sortudos siding with the demons, not believing us, thinking we were playing our own game and slandering 'the other side'." He sighed heavily. "And those who believed us and heeded our words soon turned into fanatics and were destroyed by the local population long before the Invasion began. Destroyed in self-defense because many of you crossed all imaginable boundaries, striving to gain even a crumb of power as quickly as possible, eager to ascend the Spiral of Elevation. We told almost everything, revealed almost all our cards, and, in the end, faced a complete failure. Sometimes... A blind instrument, but one that has undergone the necessary preparation and tempering, is far more effective than a seeing one."
My mind was in complete turmoil. I wanted to scream that it was a lie, that it couldn't be so, that people weren't like that. But at the same time, I understood that it was entirely possible.
"You told almost everything?" That was the only question I could form right now.
"The Shards and our true nature." The quester shook his head. "That knowledge was unnecessary then," his voice now carried a metallic tone, "and it's unnecessary now."
Acknowledging the hint, I nodded.
"The universe is multifaceted and wondrous," the quester suddenly changed the subject, looking up at the sky. "There are worlds where water flows uphill, and some where fire brings cold. But there are omnipresent laws and rules in the universe. One such rule might sound familiar to you: 'For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.' Any of our interventions that cross certain boundaries, which you need not know, elicit a counter-reaction. The stronger our intervention in the natural course of things, the more the universe favors the 'other side'." He leaned his head and, looking intently into my eyes, added, "For instance, this conversation, according to our forecasts, will advance the Invasion by approximately two weeks. We can't make more precise predictions." Suddenly, a smile appeared on his face, "But we considered it a justified risk. Your case is unique and defies all rules and calculations. That one of you would kill one of us and retain the memory of the Last Cycle was a revelation to us. And importantly, since you acted on your own then, without hints or outside intervention, your case did not affect the Balance. But," in an instant, he was no longer sitting opposite me but standing, looming over me like a cliff, "if you decide to share your knowledge of the future... To give this knowledge to those who haven't earned it themselves, it won't just tip the Scales, it will overturn them, and the Invasion could start literally tomorrow."
"Transporting thousands of earthlings to another world – was that a 'permissible intervention' that didn't exceed the universe's set boundaries?" I let sarcasm seep into my voice.
"In your case, as sortudos, it was exactly so. Your transfer to Ain did not disrupt the Balance."
"But aren't we earthlings?" I blurted out.
"Earthlings..." He suddenly smiled. "The answer to your question would cost about four months. Do you really want to hear it?"
"No," I forced out.
"Glad for your prudence," the quester nodded and stepped back. "Moreover, if you complete your Path to the end and refrain from trying to overturn the Scales, you'll find the answers to all your questions yourself."
"If," I whispered softly.
"If..." echoed the quester and vanished in a blinding flash.