156: They say trouble comes from afar.

Time won’t rewind before the teleportation gate is complete.

Me and Leifan were buried under a hellish rush.

Like a storm.

First, I rushed to the adventurer’s guild, piled on premium rush fees, and ordered rare materials collected.

While waiting for the parts to arrive, I started pre-making all the potions on schedule—early. I’m heading to a cluster of small nations, so I need to stockpile a ton of potions to sell during my stay. But my already packed schedule? It’s getting worse. Just a single change of plan, and I’m running out of time, barely enough to sleep.

At least if Leifan could help, I’d have a little breathing room. But Leifan’s in the same boat—same schedule, same mess.

“Shit. If this keeps up, my stock’s gonna drop.”

“Nn… that’s a bit of a problem, but I can’t exactly refuse the king’s orders.”

Jabir-sensei, who’s been helping out, wipes sweat pouring from his forehead with the sleeve of his robe.

I’m fine, but sensei’s not gonna last much longer like this.

If he’s sweating this much after drinking a legendary-grade stamina potion, he’s pushing himself hard. Stamina potions cancel out fatigue up to about eighty percent of full effort, but push past that, and exhaustion sets in no matter what.

“Honestly, I’m used to the king’s wild antics, but even I’m reaching my limit now.”

Elra Ruila, once the sensei’s student, muttered with a shake of her head.

She’s been helping us out after getting left behind by Van.

Still, I’m the lucky one. Two world-class alchemists—my teacher and Elra—are helping me out. Leifan’s the one really struggling.

Hmm. There are certainly skilled craftsmen gathered in this town, but Leifan’s in a league of his own.

I guess it’s better than having to do paperwork if the guildmaster hadn’t been around.

Honestly, it's probably not Grim himself who's impressive—more like his subordinate, Sindree.

God damn it! Send me a super skilled blacksmith right now!

Don't go saying crazy things!

Teacher, sighing, pressed a hand to his forehead and shook his head side to side.

All the while I was tossing the alchemical crucible, muttering nonsense, a thunderous shout came from the production guild's front desk.

What the hell!?

We scrambled up the stairs. (The alchemy room's underground, after all.)

Then a dwarf with freakishly broad shoulders let out a roar that shook the whole room.

"Give me Leifan! I said it clear enough, didn’t I!"

Damn. That voice hit right in the gut.

Plum Furtia was trying her best to hold him off.

Somehow, she was still treated like a new recruit at the Production Guild, despite who she was.

"Leifan, the Guildmaster, is currently very busy—no appointments outside of emergencies—"

"I’m here, aren’t I? Emergency or not!"

The dwarf was waving around his nonsense theory like a banner.

Short in stature, but his presence was dragon-level.

No way Plum could handle this.

"Uh, excuse me. You need something with Leifan?"

“Huh? Right! I heard that little girl was here! I came myself! Give me the mithril!”

Too scattered to make sense.

“Uh, look. Are you here to see Leifan or buy mithril? Be clear.”

“Mithril’s! I’m getting it from Leifan! Anyway! Bring out that little girl!”

What the hell is this guy even about? Calls her a brat, is he an enemy? Should I take him down?

“Hasty temper brings loss.”

“…I won’t attack.”

Must’ve had the kind of face that made it obvious, because the teacher cut in fast.

“Ah, either way, the guildmaster’s out. Come back later.”

“No! I want to strike hard mithril right now!”

“No! Talk to him first!?”

What kind of arrogant dwarf is this!?

Teacher! The short temper’s on him, not me!

For now, let's pull him out from the production guild.

"If you're gonna be a nuisance to others, keep acting up like this, and I'll have to force you out."

"Oh? You wanna try it?"

The dwarf raises a massive hammer. Just like the one Leifan carries.

The air at the front desk shifts in an instant.

"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!"

No, calm down, Plum.

I slip the test-tube potion bottle from my belt between my fingers. A dose of Trimochi's alchemy should freeze his movements. He'll be quiet enough then.

Right on the edge.

Just as tension hits its peak, a voice of shock rings from the guild entrance.

"Wait! What are you doing, Craft?!"

Of course it's Leifan, rushing in in a panic.

"Fightin' inside the guild... huh?"

Leifan stood in front of me, turning to the dwarf with a frozen look, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“Master… Craft?”

“Hey! Girl! You look strong! Now hand over the mithril!”

The dwarf shouted something completely out of nowhere.

This was how Leifan met his master, Veland Arvith.

Yeah. Worst possible meeting.

◆

Clang clang—hammer on metal echoed through the room.

This was Leifan’s forge, and the dwarf swinging the hammer was, of course, Veland.

“Phew. Finally quiet.”

“Sorry, Craft. My master’s been a pain.”

“No worries. Honestly, if Leifan had shown up a little later, I’d’ve gone full force.”

“Master’s always been misunderstood. Always getting into fights.”

Leifan, laughing with a hint of amusement.

From the look of it, she doesn’t seem to be his enemy.

Thought you came to find fault since you called me a little girl.

After the village I used to live in got wiped out, I went to my master—someone I’d been close to. Since then, I’ve been taking care of him as a full-time apprentice. To me, he’s like a father.

So that’s how it is.

I’d been wondering what Leifan had done after the village was wiped out by the Hydra. But he’d managed to survive, at least.

A little relieved.

My master’s amazing. He’s probably one of the top blacksmiths in the entire kingdom!

...Is it standard for geniuses to have a screw loose somewhere in their head?

Heh. Can’t say I’m interested in anything but ore.

"Yeah, I get it."

Verund, upon meeting Leifan, greeted him with the demand—(?)—to bring over ore, and immediately seized Leifan’s forge room.

Too eccentric.

Well, odd, sure. But at least not a bad sort. Lucky that.

“Wooooooh! Legendary-grade mithril hard forging oil, and pure mithril ore! This is burning!”

“Can’t you do something about that voice? All that yelling—”

“That’s just the master’s default setting…”

Leifan shrinking back, looking apologetic. No, not your fault.

“The master’s forge was deep in the mountains. So many apprentices, it was always noisy…”

I pictured a massive forge, hundreds of craftsmen swinging hammers.

"Yeah, I get it. So yelling’s just automatic now. You’re not actually mad, huh?"

"True, but I *do* snap easily."

"Of all the headaches."

Dwarves are a grumpy lot, but Verund’s a cut above the rest.

"But hey! Good news!"

"What?"

"I like this town. I’m staying! And I’ll help run the Production Guild!"

Leifan bounces with excitement.

Having a parental figure live here? That’s a good thing.

"No, Craft. With my master’s hands, I can forge *anything* I’ve ever made before! Just—metal only."

"Anything?!"

That’s right! I can’t make the heraldry of the Forge King (Andvari) or bother with alchemical hardening stone, but everything else—everything I’ve ever handled before, especially hard mithril stuff—I can take on! I bet even orichalcum processing is doable with my master’s hands!

“That means…?”

“Yeah! Now I can join the delegation without a single worry!”

Ohhhhhhhhh!

Thank you, gods! I’m so grateful!

…Still, kind of convenient, isn’t it?

Anyway, with a little breathing room, we managed to finish the transfer gate.

Master, present yourself!

…Actually, I was supposed to show up much earlier. That’s a secret.

Next Monday, the 28th—new volume five is out!

Seems some copies are already circulating, so seeing purchase reports on Twitter really helps!

Please confirm the actual arrival date with your local bookstore!