Chapter 63 – Is the Journey Going Smoothly?

A gaunt old man placed a candlestick-shaped mold inside an iron container and began filling it with soil.

He pressed down firmly to compact the soil, ensuring it wouldn’t crumble or scatter.

After completing the female mold, he positioned the iron container on top to create the male mold, then filled it with soil and pressed it down just as before.

After carefully removing the female mold and extracting the shape mold,

The male mold was complete.

At its center, the clear impression of a candlestick took form.

Given how intricate the design was, crafting it entirely by hand would consume considerable time, which was why he was experimenting with this alternative method.

Next, he scorched both casting molds as if baking them in fire, continuing the blackening process.

Then, after reassembling them into one unit,

“Bring it here! Quickly, pour it in!”

At the old man’s thunderous command, a muscular young man came running.

In both hands, he held elongated iron tongs.

Gripped within them was an iron container the size of a cup.

As he carefully poured its contents into the mold’s opening, molten metal flowed like scarlet water through the narrow gap.

The liquid iron that entered between the male and female molds began solidifying into the desired shape.

As white smoke filled the small workshop,

When the mold was removed and the contents extracted with tongs, the soil on top crumbled away, revealing a candlestick stretching outward like an elongated branch.

“Hmm.”

The old man scrutinized it meticulously, rotating it with the tongs without flinching despite the intense heat.

“Gold and silver might need to be worked by hand, but for iron, we can mass-produce like this from now on. Don’t you agree?”

“As expected of you, Grandfather.”

“Do I need to secure your future for you too? You can’t even learn and master things on your own!?”

The old man clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“You there, little one. What about you?”

“Me, sir?”

A black-haired boy.

Though his entire appearance was shrouded in darkness, his eyes stood in stark contrast—golden and brilliant, as if pieces of gold had been embedded there.

Cariel watched the process attentively, tilting his head slightly.

“What’s so fascinating about working with metal that you don’t get bored?”

“I thought I might understand the properties of earth, rock, and metal by observing this process.”

“You’re not even an alchemist—why fixate on such pointless things?”

So young, yet already obsessed with peculiar interests.

Though he grumbled something between admonishment and lecture, even that quickly faded.

“With enough molten metal, we could easily produce ten of these in a day.”

At the old man’s remark, his grandson responded with a troubled expression.

“Even if we made that many, where would we sell them? And where would we acquire all that metal?”

“That’s your responsibility, not mine. If you want to become that rich magnate or whatever it is you’re always going on about, you’ll need to sell plenty. Am I wrong?!”

“Ah. Well… that’s true.”

“You claim you don’t want to handle metal like me when you’re old. Then use your brain! Your brain!”

The old man, though not necessarily a master craftsman anymore, was developing techniques to create things efficiently without specialized skill.

Apparently, this was merely his pastime now.

Once a renowned craftsman, after the Demon King’s invasion ended and peace returned, he primarily crafted agricultural implements, convenience items, and occasionally ornamental pieces.

“You’re quite an unusual one.”

The old man remarked while regarding Cariel.

“In what way, sir?”

“I fully expected you’d be demanding I forge you some legendary blade. But you seem completely disinterested in that.”

“A sword is simply a tool that gets consumed. What difference does it make if it’s legendary? Isn’t it more problematic when people become so attached to valuable items that they can’t discard them when necessary?”

“Any respectable knight would berate you for saying that… but you’re right.”

It was admittedly disrespectful to the craftsman who created such weapons, but still preferable to someone losing their life over it.

The old man added with a sigh.

“So you’re departing soon?”

“Yes. There was a delay with the ship I was meant to board, as well as with my guide.”

“…You truly don’t require a sword?”

“No. As I promised, I merely wanted to observe. I wished to understand the nature of earth, rock, and metal.”

Along the way, he had also grasped the significance of heat treatment and temperature control.

He hadn’t anticipated gaining such comprehensive insight merely by watching someone work with metal.

Indeed, life rarely conforms to one’s expectations or plans.

“What a peculiar character you are.”

To even pay simply to observe—there couldn’t be a stranger individual.

Had he intended to steal techniques, that would have been an entirely different matter.

…But the boy had already demonstrated that wasn’t his purpose.

Several days passed in this manner.

If yesterday they had cast an iron candlestick using molding techniques,

Today the old man spent three entire days handcrafting silver candlesticks and teapots, which Cariel observed with unwavering attention.

The approach differed completely from how iron was treated.

Silver possessed different properties than iron, so naturally the methods varied.

“These will command a high price. That’s why they deserve such meticulous attention.”

Understand the client’s requirements thoroughly and design accordingly.

For even greater precision, first create a simple wooden model to show the client, then proceed with production.

With such effort invested, the price would rightfully increase.

Even when crafting a simple cup, adding ornate patterns and engravings would further enhance its value.

If noble families, guilds, or specific organizations provided their crests in advance—whether sketched or referenced—incorporating color wasn’t entirely impossible either.

…Such was the old man’s explanation.

A genuine artisan.

Not merely an artisan, but one deserving of the title “master.”

Despite his disheveled appearance, those rough and weathered hands could create anything given sufficient time and materials.

Truly a hidden master unknown to the masses.

A craftsman recognized only by those in select circles.

“Child, what exactly are you learning and discerning by watching me work?”

“The unnaturalness? The artificial aesthetic qualities?”

“You’ve gone completely mad, utterly deranged.”

The old man erupted in laughter and openly berated him.

“……”

Cariel could only respond with a rueful smile.

Accepting the harmless criticism lightly, Cariel informed him that today would be his final visit.

“Perhaps when opportunity permits, I’ll commission various items from you.”

“First go get married. Don’t waste your youth only to die some meaningless death. With such a presentable appearance, why do you act as though the world is ending?”

With that farewell, Cariel departed from the village’s sole workshop.

“You’ve arrived?”

It had been a full week since he’d come to this place.

A small village nestled near a valley.

Though technically under imperial jurisdiction, its size was so minimal one might question whether it even appeared on maps.

Its distinguishing feature, if it could be called that, was a modest dock where boats could moor.

It wasn’t a proper harbor.

However, from this village, traveling downriver for some distance led to the distant sea, while immediately ahead lay the city of Amalang, connected to the Osmillan Valley, which extended into the continent’s central regions.

Under Count Bahamila’s domain and the bishop’s ecclesiastical authority, most travelers navigating upriver from the sea, or vice versa, would dock at Amalang to conduct their business.

Without Philbar, Cariel’s original plan had been to traverse the Buruut Mountains, then either secure passage on a small boat where the current was manageable or, as a last resort, swim across.

However,

By boarding a vessel here and following the river upstream, they could bypass the Dabass Kingdom and proceed directly to the Kingdom of Metlan.

After careful deliberation, Cariel elected to follow Philbar’s recommendation.

Objectively speaking, this route was undeniably more efficient.

They would encounter checkpoints at trading posts along the way, but provided they remained aboard, there was no issue.

Should complications arise, Philbar had already furnished him with an alternative identity, so it shouldn’t present significant problems.

“That guide should have arrived by now… I doubt they’re lost.”

In any case,

While discussing matters with Philbar, the question of whether Cariel should adopt a disguise had arisen.

Cariel deemed it unnecessary for the immediate future.

More precisely, once beyond imperial borders, whether his whereabouts were discovered became largely irrelevant.

Philbar had cautioned against revealing his identity carelessly, particularly since being recognized as the son of the Hero of Radiance could invite numerous complications.

But,

That advice was fundamentally meaningless.

Furthermore,

‘It’s not as though my face is widely recognized.’

This wasn’t optimism—even for genuinely renowned figures, easy recognition was questionable at best.

“Ah, here they come now.”

Just then,

Since Philbar had insisted on personally introducing the guide before departing, Cariel had reluctantly remained here for approximately a week.

Throughout this period, Philbar appeared constantly occupied, never relinquishing his pen or brush.

The massive four-horse carriage stationed beside the village inn naturally attracted attention.

However, most villagers observed from a distance or simply passed by, well aware that involvement with those of elevated status or nobility inevitably invited trouble.

Consequently,

Someone approaching directly with evident purpose almost certainly had business connected to Cariel.

“……”

The first impression was…

Small in stature.

Below the face, everything disappeared beneath a thick, navy-blue robe.

It appeared substantial enough to resist even strong winds.

Thump, thump.

Judging by the heavy footfalls, the footwear must be exceptional as well.

Perhaps iron-heeled boots?

Though solid iron boots wouldn’t produce precisely that sound.

Light lavender hair, as if a mere fragment had been plucked from the vibrant flower, cut to shoulder length.

Eyes that gleamed silvery-white. Features otherwise unremarkable.

Depending on expression, one might even consider her appearance cute.

Regarding gender, a single glance confirmed feminine attributes.

However, her demeanor appeared even more detached and impassive than Cariel’s own, creating an intensely cold first impression.

“Edenrevan Regiment, Blood-Bonded Family Peace Association. Second Prince Philbar Asuvna. Is that correct?”

“Indeed! If you seek him, you’ve found your target—for I am he!”

Second Prince.

Among humans, such a title would indicate exceptionally high status, but within their species, “prince” carried different connotations from human or other racial equivalents.

It denoted a rightful inheritor of bloodline and legacy.

For those capable of nearly-immortal lifespans, the supreme value lay in preserving and protecting their primordial lineage.

Along with the original values and purpose bestowed upon that bloodline.

How effectively one fulfilled, guided, and safeguarded these principles constituted their fundamental worth.

The sovereign of each bloodline, their clan leader, functioned essentially as the head of an organization or group.

Thus, “Second Prince” in this context signified someone who had admirably executed the duties of their bloodline—a designation of rank and status.

“I’d like to verify the details of the commission, if I may?”

“As requested by the client: safely escort the distinguished guest to their intended destination. Provide protection and convenience throughout the journey. Should unavoidable circumstances arise, furnish adequate explanation and alternative routes, informing both guest and client simultaneously.”

“Excellent, most commendable.”

Philbar applauded softly, then turned toward Cariel.

“With this companion, you’ll be able to reach your destination discreetly.”

“……”

Cariel observed the girl, whose height scarcely reached his shoulder, and said,

“I’ll be in your care.”

“I presume I’m younger than you, so dispense with formalities.”

The girl demanded in an emotionless tone.

“I detest unnecessary verbosity. Each additional word is abhorrent.”

“Hahaha… She may lack social graces, but her competence is unquestionable. That much, I can guarantee.”

Cariel nodded.

“I harbor no doubts.”

Only,

“……”

Those frost-like eyes seemed somewhat melancholy.

But to pity her would constitute an insult.

“She’s already arranged the vessel, so simply follow her guidance. She may make certain requests along the journey, but all will pertain to her responsibilities. Unless truly problematic, please accommodate them.”

“……”

Cariel silently nodded his assent.

“Well then! I shall take my leave! May your journey be safe and pleasant for you both!”

The four-horse carriage stirred clouds of dust as it departed from the village.

The two who had silently observed its departure,

“So, what happens now?”

Cariel inquired.

The girl replied,

“First, we eat.”

Excuse me?

“I haven’t consumed food in two days. When arriving at such locations, satisfying hunger is the initial priority. It’s a fundamental principle.”

“…Very well.”

Cariel acquiesced without objection.

He presumed this would provide an opportunity for proper introductions—a methodical beginning.

That had been his expectation, at least.

But what followed was two uninterrupted hours of continuous eating, which he could only observe in astonishment.

At some point, he found himself smiling involuntarily.

After this prolonged consumption of food,

During a rare pause between dishes, the girl finally announced her name.

“Luillin. I possess no family name. What shall I call you?”

“……”

Cariel provided a concise response.

“El.”

“That’s problematic to articulate. During emergencies, it’s too brief, and the phonetics are suboptimal. It would impede efficient communication. Eh~ E—el! See? My tongue contacts the roof of my mouth, and the sound naturally retreats into my throat. Can’t you perceive that?”

“……”

Cariel found himself momentarily speechless as she demonstrated by opening her mouth wide and extending her tongue.

If she insisted so adamantly…

“Then call me Riel.”

“Are you female?”

“……”

“…My apologies.”

Somehow, he sensed this journey might prove less than perfectly smooth. Perhaps it was merely his imagination.