Sunday, MOTH 5, 5th. Elfier City.
After breakfast, Fyar went straight to Robert’s shop. He had thought about asking Laura to go for a walk, but the girl was busy with work at the inn, so Fyar decided not to bother her.
When he arrived, the rhythmic sound of a hammer striking metal greeted him before he even opened the door. Inside, the air was warm and smelled of acrid charcoal and hot metal. Various hammers, tongs, and files hung neatly on the stone walls, next to finished swords and shields. On the sturdy workbench lay pieces of metal and several burnt, cracked bullet casings.
Fyar watched Robert, who was sitting in his chair, holding a glowing piece of iron with a pincer and slowly hammering it on an anvil. The blacksmith didn’t even look up when Fyar entered.
"Soo.. Can you make them?"
Robert placed the hot iron into a tub of water. Steam hissed out, filling the air with a distinct smell. He let out a heavy sigh, then wiped his sweaty hands on his leather apron.
"Unfortunately... no," he grumbled. "I haven’t been able to find a suitable material. The propellent powder you described... Hmm, magic and alchemy in this world don’t work like that, kid. Where are you from, anyway?"
He pointed to a small barrel filled with black powder in the corner. "I tried the black powder from the eastern mines. The result? Garbage. It’s nothing compared to the powder inside that little thing." He then pointed to a scorch mark on the ceiling. "I asked an alchemist for help. His explosive liquid was too wild. I almost lost my beard and my fingers, hahaha."
Hah? How did you test it? Fyar stared at Robert with bewilderment. He was silent for a moment before finally sighing in resignation. "I guess it can’t be helped..."
"My thoughts exactly," Robert said. He then slammed his fist on the table. "But I haven’t given up yet!"
Robert stared intently at Fyar. "Kid, lend me the thing that makes the bullets work. I need to run some direct tests."
He wants to borrow my pistol? Isn’t that dangerous? Fyar fell silent, his mind racing. But... I do need those bullets. Can he be trusted? It would be extremely dangerous if he tried to make a duplicate. It could start a weapon revolution! Fyar narrowed his eyes, looking down as he thought.
"What’s wrong, Kid?" Robert asked.
Fyar looked back at Robert. Well, I’ll just kill him if he tries to create a duplicate or do anything strange with this pistol. Fyar then gave a thin smile. "Well, I don’t mind... but..."
"But?" Robert raised an eyebrow.
Fyar cleared his throat softly. "Don’t try to make a duplicate of it, and don’t show it to anyone. Can you promise me that?"
Robert was silent for a moment, his eyes darting left and right. After a few seconds, he nodded. " off course You can kill me if I break that promise!"
Hooh... he’s got guts. Fyar smiled. "Thank you." He looked around the workshop. "Do you have paper and a pen? I’ll draw a more detailed sketch."
After that, Fyar explained the workings of the pistol in full detail to Robert, even performing a test shot in the workshop’s basement to provide a direct example. Robert, looking increasingly enthusiastic, promised to find a suitable propellent powder soon.
After leaving Robert’s shop, Fyar stopped by the shop owned by Eutas and Cyhas. He pushed open the wooden door. A small bell above it chimed melodically.
The scent of dried herbs, old parchment, and a faint sweetness immediately greeted him. Wooden shelves reaching to the ceiling were filled with hundreds of glass jars containing strange ingredients: gnarled roots, colorful crystals, and liquids that emitted a dim glow. Scrolls were piled in baskets, and in a glass display case, dozens of magic stones glittered. The room was illuminated by the warm light from a large arched window and several lanterns containing glowing stones.
That lamp must be expensive...
"Fyar?!" Cyhas, who was kneeling on the floor sorting through a box of small trinkets, looked up and smiled sweetly. She stood up and walked over to him.
"Oh, Fyar? How are you?" Eutas greeted from behind the counter. The old, white-haired man was polishing a large crystal with a soft cloth. "I heard something happened in the dungeon you were exploring."
"Yeah... something like that," Fyar answered, observing the charming surroundings of the shop.
"You’re okay, aren’t you, Fyar?" Cyhas asked, her face showing genuine concern.
Fyar gave a light laugh and shook his head. "There were some bad memories, but at least I’m still alive."
"Do you want to buy something? A recovery potion, maybe? Or a good luck charm?" Cyhas asked, starting to pick up a few items from a nearby shelf.
"No, no. I just came here to visit you guys," Fyar said. "I was looking for some fresh air, happened to pass by, so I thought I’d drop in."
"Heeh... just dropping in, huh..." Cyhas looked down, slightly disappointed.
"Psst, Cyhas!" Eutas called. He gestured for her to come closer.
Cyhas nodded and walked over to Eutas, who then whispered something to her. Cyhas’s eyes occasionally glanced pityingly toward Fyar.
What are they talking about? Fyar raised an eyebrow.
Cyhas walked back over to Fyar and touched his shoulder. "Fyar..."
"Y-yes?"
"I’ll accompany you for some fresh air today!" Cyhas answered in a cheerful tone.
"Huh? So suddenly? But you’re working, aren’t you? I don’t want to disturb—"
"Go on, Fyar. It’s fine," Eutas interrupted with a smile.
What’s his motive?... Well, I was planning on asking her yesterday, anyway...
"Alright," Fyar nodded.
They went to a simple, uncrowded restaurant. The building was made of white stone, with clean wooden floors and furniture. The atmosphere was calm, with only the clinking of plates and the low chatter of a few other patrons.
They ordered warm bread with melted honey on top. Cyhas sat across from Fyar.
"Try it! This is my favorite food in the city!" Cyhas said cheerfully. She cut her bread, speared it with a fork, and immediately took a bite.
Fyar did the same. His eyes widened as the sweet taste of honey and the savory flavor of the breadcrispy on the outside but soft on the inside touched his tongue.
I think I’ll be coming here often... thanks, Cyhas! Fyar thought to himself.
After swallowing her bite, Cyhas looked at Fyar. "Was it really bad... inside the dungeon?"
Fyar stopped chewing for a moment, his gaze distant. "It was... complicated."
Seeing Fyar fall silent again, Cyhas said softly, "You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I was just... worried. I’m glad you came back safely."
Her words made Fyar look at her. He let out a slow breath. "There was a moment where I thought we were all going to die. Plus... well, it was disappointing."
Cyhas was silent upon hearing his confession. She didn’t press further. Instead, she reached her hand across the table and gently patted the back of Fyar’s hand. "But you made it. You all made it. You guys are amazing."
The warm touch surprised Fyar slightly, but he didn’t pull his hand away. He gave a small smile. "Yeah. We made it."
Cyhas tapped her fork lightly on the table. "You know, Fyar... I wanted to be an adventurer once, too, but my father forbade it... so, yeah, I’ve been a merchant ever since."
"Hmm. I see," Fyar said, pausing for a moment before asking, "Do... you enjoy being a merchant, Cyhas? I know my question sounds strange."
Cyhas seemed lost in thought for a moment before giving a thin smile. "I don’t have any other choice but to be a merchant with my father. It’s all I can do. I sometimes think about writing a novel or playing a musical instrument... or, or becoming a singer!"
"Why don’t you try it? Buying an instrument or writing a short story in your spare time," Fyar asked.
Cyhas gave a small laugh. "Somehow I always put it off, Fyar. My mind always says, ’later,’ ’tomorrow,’ or ’I’m tired today.’ There’s always an excuse for me to postpone it."
"Try writing a short story first in your spare time, Cyhas," Fyar suggested. He smiled and continued, "Whatever it is, whether it’s your dream or just a thought, just write it down. You know, our time in this world is short, we never know when we’ll die. So... live life to the fullest. That way, if you die, you won’t regret anything... and even if you fail in the end, you’ll still be grateful you did it."
Fyar paused for a moment before adding, "And later, let me read your writing and listen to you play."
Cyhas’s eyes widened for a moment at his words. "Live life to the fullest..." she repeated. She then gave a gentle smile. "Yes! I’ll try it! Thank you, Fyar!"
"After this, I’m planning to go to the mountains to enjoy nature. Do you want to come?"
Cyhas nodded enthusiastically. "Yes!"
After finishing their meal, Fyar and Cyhas walked out of the city gate toward the hill area. They walked along the gentle slope of the hill. The green grass grew densely, damp at the bottom from the evening dew that was beginning to form. Rows of trees with light-blue leaves stood in a line. Their leaves moved and rustled as the wind passed through their branches.
When they reached the top of the hill, they sat side-by-side. From there, Elfier City was clearly visible. The rooftops of houses, the straight roads cutting through the buildings, and the light of torches beginning to appear in a few spots.
The sky in the west was slowly changing. Orange around the setting sun, then further out it became pink, and finally a deep purple. The hill’s shadow stretched eastward.
It was quiet. There was no sound besides the wind and the chirping of small insects in the grass. Fyar turned to his side. Cyhas sat silently, her gaze fixed on the horizon. Her silver hair moved lightly in the breeze, its color changing with the evening light.
Fyar just sat without speaking. His muscles felt relaxed, and the tightness in his chest was gone. He gave a thin smile and murmured softly, "Maybe this is the best day I’ve had since I got here..."