The blue sky stretched high, veiled in thin clouds, and the cries of seagulls echoed across the water.

  Why they cried, he did not know, but they were probably searching for schools of fish.

  The waves were gentle, and the flag at the stern clung flat to its pole with no sign of fluttering.

  For the past few days there had been no wind, so he lay sprawled on the deck like this.

  His crew had taken the small boat ashore to buy water and food and had not returned.

  Once they climbed the hill, the temptations were too many; they would probably be gone for a while.

  That was why he was on watch duty, lying here drinking wine.

  It was not that he wanted to drink.

  There was simply no water left—only wine.

  At that moment a knocking sound came from the hull and a voice called up.

  Thinking it was his men, he peered over the side and saw a small boat from the Elvinas Port Authority.

  They had raised the lateen sail and rowed over.

  “Mooring fee collection.”

  “Damn, you people really have a nice business. It’s not like we want to stay here.”

  “Wind is outside my jurisdiction. Pray to your god.”

  “Shit… Here.”

  He tossed a single silver coin.

  The official pasted a red paper with the date onto the hull and headed toward the next prey.

  Even without wind, money still flew away.

  Denaro let out a long sigh.

  Load wine and iron in Keiros, sell to merchants in Elvinas, buy a full ship of wheat from the Elysia Grain Corporation, and return to Keiros.

  That was usually the cycle.

  But this time he had not bought any.

  Keiros was the capital of the neighboring Kingdom of Lidonia, a huge port city.

  Because the Prelmo Peninsula jutted out, the waves inside the bay were calm, the ria coastline offered deep water, and it had been a natural excellent harbor since ancient times.

  With mountains nearby and abundant spring water, seafaring peoples had long made this their base and set out to sea.

  The area had little flat land; heading north quickly led to the Lidonia Highlands with their basins and valleys, and meltwater from the distant Elphant Mountains flowed down.

  The seafaring folk bought timber from the mountain tribes of the Lidonia Highlands, built ships on the shore, and ventured out—sometimes for trade, sometimes to raid.

  Though mocked as the city of pirates and bandits, Keiros had grown through exactly that.

  Towns dotted the shoreline surrounding the bay, and roughly half the population of the Kingdom of Lidonia lived here.

  Because most of the country was mountainous, grain production was low and they relied on imports, but fruit cultivation flourished.

  They fermented grapes and pears with yeast to make wine and exported it to buy grain.

  They also had abundant forest resources, and the timber trade and shipbuilding industry prospered.

  Mineral resources were rich too; they smelted iron ore into pig iron and sold it to various countries.

  Elysia, for example, depended on Lidonia for nearly all its iron.

  They also produced gold ore, so never lacking gold was a strength.

  Elysia and Lidonia were mutually dependent, and relations were good.

  However, with the recent cooling trend causing successive crop failures, not only Elysia but every country had begun driving up prices.

  Two days earlier, after unloading and selling the wine and iron, he went to the corporation to buy grain only to find wheat prices stubbornly high.

  They posted the previous month’s transaction prices at the counter, so trends were visible, but recently it had stayed at 1.1.

  On expensive days it reached 1.3.

  This was the price per kan (3.75 kg); 1.1 meant one silver coin and one copper coin.

  Considering that even beef sold by weight went for about one silver coin per kan, this was quite expensive.

  Around May, winter wheat would begin to circulate and prices would drop.

  They planned to make their profit before then.

  Inside Elysia, wheat traded for about thirty copper coins per kan, so smuggling had recently become rampant.

  But if caught, they faced heavy fines and a ban on port transactions.

  Small lateen-sailed patrol boats from the Port Authority cruised along the coastline precisely to watch for smuggling.

  That was why it was usually done at night.

  He knew the suppliers and how to contact them, but he had not touched that business.

  It was probably a safe way to make profit even without much business talent, but it was not to his taste.

  While he was lost in such thoughts, his crew seemed to have returned.

  “Denaro-san, we’re back!”

  A short, deeply tanned man called out.

  He climbed aboard and began loading cargo onto the yard.

  “You’re early. Done already?”

  “Wheat’s so expensive there’s no profit left. Had to keep it moderate. No thanks to pirates.”

  Denaro snorted.

  “I’m going to take a look around town. Wind probably won’t come for a while, so you guys can relax too.”

  “Roger!”

  He waved, climbed down into the small boat, and headed for the port.

  He wanted to find new merchandise.

  Wheat was now too expensive to trade.

  In the old days nobles would bring piles of gold, buy as much as they could at low prices, and sell during the high season to skim the margin, but now there was no margin left; even the nobles were struggling with low income.

  They used to borrow from moneylenders for short-term deals, repay after selling, but prices never dropped while interest piled up, so after suffering losses no one did it anymore.

  Actually, the ones doing smuggling were precisely those people.

  Compared to the past the volume was incomparably smaller, but there was still profit, so they scraped by that way.

  No way in hell was he going to do something so pathetic!

  It was a matter of pride; without even that, he might as well quit being a merchant.

  So whenever he had time he went into town to watch people.

  What clothes they wore, what they ate, what they spent money on—he observed slowly.

  Sometimes he entered shops and looked at the goods.

  Every country had trading companies with stores here, selling all kinds of things.

  Stalls lined the streets selling all sorts of items.

  Thinly sliced smoked meat stuffed into long baguettes with pickled vegetables and a simple sauce was popular because it could be eaten while walking.

  Citrus juices were sold too.

  The back alleys were a bit dangerous, but carriages ran constantly.

  There were many warehouse operators, so there was heavy traffic of goods.

  While watching such scenery, a sudden loud voice rang out.

  “WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!”

  Startled, he spat out the citrus juice and coughed.

  Wondering what happened, he looked for the source and saw it was the owner of a butcher shop.

  The man was cutting meat and shouting at the top of his lungs.

  Curious, he peeked in and saw the man seemed astonished by the sharpness.

  In front of the shop stood a strangely energetic old man and a man and woman who looked about a parent-child age apart.

  But the man and woman did not look like parent and child at all.

  The man had flaxen hair and was Elysian; the woman had black hair and rather Eastern features.

  “How about it? Sharp, right?”

  “Too sharp—it’s scary. What is this knife?”

  “This one made it. Want it?”

  “Of course I want it, but it’s expensive, right?”

  “Well, yeah. What kind of knife do you use?”

  “Mine? This one. Pretty much the same wherever you go.”

  The man picked up his favorite knife.

  “How much does something like that cost?”

  “This one’s about five silver coins. Not a luxury item. Something this sharp I can’t afford.”

  “How much for the expensive ones?”

  “Top end has no limit, but high-class ones cost five times this.”

  The man answered with his hand on his chin, still gripping the knife.

  “How much would you buy for?”

  “Hmm… ten coins and I could buy it.”

  “Then it won’t sell~ Glad I asked. Meat for one silver coin okay?”

  “Yeah, that’s fine. Thanks as always.”

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  The man wrapped the meat in paper and handed it to the old man along with the knife.

  They accepted it and left as if nothing had happened.

  “Welcome. How much do you want?”

  “Ah, no, not meat. Did those people just now come to sell the knife?”

  “Who knows? They told me to try it, so I did. If you’re not buying, leave.”

  “Sorry to bother…”

  Denaro waved to the shopkeeper and followed the strange trio.

  “Hey, wait a second, you three.”

  When he called out, the black-haired woman turned around.

  She was a beautiful woman with black eyes.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Sorry for stopping you. I’m just a merchant named Denaro. Are you trying to sell that knife?”

  “Yeah, that’s right. We’re looking around for information right now.”

  Despite her face, her body was surprisingly toned.

  She wore a dark-blue chiton with an outer cloak, but from her neck and arms it was immediately clear she was no ordinary town girl.

  “May I see it?”

  “Sure.”

  She held out the handle side of the knife.

  He gripped the handle and pulled; the blade emerged from the sheath.

  It was a knife he had never seen before.

  Double-edged and long, with the marks of flat hammering still visible, revealing the layered pattern of forged iron.

  The tip curved slightly.

  It looked incredibly sharp.

  “Even though it’s a kitchen knife, it gives me chills…”

  “Want to test the edge?”

  She opened the wrapped meat she had just bought.

  Placing the blade on it and drawing it toward herself, the knife sank into the meat as if drawn in.

  Goosebumps rose on his back.

  He had not seen merchandise like this in a long time.

  “…Would you consider selling this abroad?”

  “Abroad?”

  “What do you mean?”

  The flaxen-haired man stepped in.

  “Two days by sea southeast of here live people who raise sheep. Gold and silver are plentiful there, so we sell wine and timber, but they cannot forge iron. Fuel wood is precious and they don’t have enough charcoal to smelt iron. Therefore good blades sell for high prices. They should buy this one at a good price.”

  “How much?”

  The flaxen-haired man asked.

  “The butcher earlier said high-class items are twenty-five silver coins. They would probably buy for twice that. Actually, I’ll sell it for that much.”

  “I see… Weapon exports are banned, but kitchen knives should be fine. It might be worth trying. What do you think?”

  “Sure. Let’s give this as a sample.”

  The old man whose age was hard to guess spoke.

  “Is that all right!? Thank you. Oh, I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Fan Biel Denaro, a merchant from Lidonia. I run the Fan Biel Company. This is my identification. Do you need any receipt or deposit?”

  Denaro’s certificate was the document issued by customs during entry procedures.

  “Lidonian, huh. Most merchants from there are decent. They understand that business runs on trust. I am Farnese Aquinas.”

  “Farnese… I recall that name among Elysia’s prominent houses. I heard many scholars in law, but do they do business now too?”

  “No, I’m just helping a friend. If there is progress, please visit the mansion in the capital. It will be passed on. As a deposit, I’ll take that ring of yours.”

  Denaro looked at the gold ring on his right middle finger.

  It was used for sealing wax and signing for the company.

  Handing it over would stop his work.

  “Understood.”

  He removed it and handed it to Aquinas.

  “And the old gentleman’s name?”

  “I am Kazal.”

  “I am Rona Sara.”

  “Rona…”

  No wonder her build was so solid.

  To run into the rumored Bow Saint in a place like this…

  “Thank you. I’ll take good care of it and come back with a report. Thank you for trusting a complete stranger from another country.”

  With that he gripped the knife and ran off.

  “Wait! You forgot the sheath!”

  When Sara shouted, the man scratched his head, came back, took it, sheathed the knife, and ran again.

  Denaro was certain it would sell.

  This knife cut better than any blade sold in Ashir, and above all its appearance was excellent.

  There was a sharpness within its ruggedness that drew the eye.

  Denaro felt his heart race.

  He hurried back to the ship. His crew was in the middle of a drinking party.

  “You’re back awfully early. What happened?”

  The short man, Philo.

  He was drinking from the deck while dangling a fishing rod.

  “Get ready to sail immediately. I found something incredible.”

  “What is it?”

  Denaro pulled the knife from his belt, drew it, and showed them.

  Everyone was speechless.

  “Amazing… Never seen anything like it…”

  Philo’s younger brother Davto said.

  “How’s the edge?”

  He picked up an apple bought in town.

  Denaro placed the middle of the blade on the spot where the stem had been and drew it slowly.

  The knife sank smoothly into the apple.

  “…What the hell…?”

  Philo was dumbfounded.

  It cut like a heated knife through butter.

  “Let’s head to Hera! It’ll definitely sell.”

  Hera was a port town in the Kingdom of Ashir.

  The governor of Hera was a royal relative named Al-Ashir Farid.

  Fortunately they still had the highest-grade Van (red wine) and Perish (pear sparkling wine) unsold.

  His wife loved Perish and drank it often, so bringing it as a gift would probably get them an audience.

  “You haven’t drunk the expensive stuff, right?”

  “Of course not…”

  “Then we sail for Hera… once the wind comes…”

  Denaro looked up at the sky and sighed.

  The sun smiled broadly as it advanced westward.

  Denaro kissed the gold medallion hanging from his neck and prayed to the goddess.

  The medallion bore a relief of the goddess of the sea and commerce, Theamut, with long hair blowing in the wind.

  Perhaps his prayer reached her, for as the sun tilted the flag began to flutter.

  Seeing that, Denaro hurriedly raised the sail.

  The surrounding ships lowered their sails all at once as if they had been waiting.

  Elvinas was an artificial port.

  Originally a shallow beach, concrete blocks had been used to reclaim five cho (545 m) seaward to create a pier, then a breakwater and lighthouse were built.

  The wind-bound merchant ships left the port in a line.

  Fortunately the moon would rise tonight, so they wanted to sail as far as possible by the stars.

  Once past the breakwater Denaro set course south, keeping Elbes Volcano on the starboard side and heading east.

  After a while the island of Heremia would come into view.

  Long ago the area south of the Almira Mountains had been flat plains, but when Elbes Volcano erupted massively the plains sank below sea level.

  Heremia Island was what remained.

  A river had once flowed through the sunken plains; now it poured from cliffs into the sea as a gigantic waterfall, offering a spectacular view on clear days.

  Strong rip currents ran here; if one was careless the ship could run aground on Heremia Island.

  Denaro dropped anchor on the south side of Heremia Island.

  Several ships bound for Hera were there; most rested in this area.

  It was safer from pirates when ships gathered, so no one forced themselves to push on.

  They took turns on watch and decided to rest for the night.

  Denaro stood at the bow, copper cup filled with Van in hand, and looked up at the night sky.

  He thanked the goddess for the wonderful encounter and the wind, raised the cup, and poured it into the sea.

  The medallion on his chest bore a relief of the long-haired goddess blowing breath.

  He poured another cup, drank it in one gulp, wrapped himself in a blanket, and slept.

  People say “the smell of the tide,” but it is the scent created when secretions, excrement, and carcasses of marine life dissolve in saltwater.

  It is fishy, the wind feels sticky, and though he had been a sailor for twenty-five years he had rarely found it pleasant.

  He was used to it, but he still could not grow fond of being woken by the rocking of the ship.

  It had been a very long time since he last slept in a bed on land.

  He wanted to sleep soundly for once.

  “You finally woke up? Hera is already in sight.”

  “Sorry, I overslept.”

  “The wind changed completely—tailwind and high waves! Destination is right there.”

  Philo pointed at the lighthouse of Hera visible in the distance.

  Denaro checked his pocket; the item was safely there.

  “When we arrive I’ll take a room. I need to change—the smell is unbearable. Prepare to unload. We’ll use the small boat to ferry and rent a carriage.”

  “Roger!”

  In the stern cabin he searched for usable clothes, but nothing decent remained.

  Everything stank.

  He should probably inspect the entire cargo once and clean.

  Hera was the largest port town in eastern Ashir Kingdom.

  The harbor was formed by two crab-claw-like peninsulas, and the port itself was built by reclaiming land with piled stones.

  Roads radiated from the port, and the city spread over a wide area.

  It was probably large enough to fit three Elvinas cities inside.

  The Kingdom of Ashir was a vast empire controlling the coastal regions from the east to the south of the Valens Sea.

  Various states had ruled the area since ancient times, but Ashir had achieved the largest territory twice.

  Nations repeatedly split and reunited.

  Now was a period of unification.

  The climate here was warm and dry; inland lay deserts.

  The coastal areas were humid and covered in greenery.

  Rivers flowed and agriculture flourished, but farther inland a world of nothing but sand greeted travelers every day with ever-changing shapes.

  Anyone unaccustomed to travel would lose their life in a few days.

  Temperature differences between day and night would ruin their health, dehydration would leave them unable to move, and they would simply dry up.

  Moisture would leave their bodies until they became dried human jerky, covered by sand until no trace remained.

  There were mines in such places.

  Along paths that could hardly be called roads, officials carried meager rations every day; prisoners dug rock relying only on that.

  The officials then loaded the mined gold and silver ore and returned to town.

  Prisoners knew that struggling or resisting only wasted moisture, so they simply worked and ended each day.

  Officials knew that touching the cargo would mean their turn tomorrow, so they never laid a hand on the loads.

  Ashir was a country with a low crime rate.

  Without keeping faith, one could not survive here.

  It was a country where water was more expensive than wine.

  River water and well water could not be drunk without boiling.

  If your throat grew dry while out, you bought water.

  Foreigners were often swindled, but once you entered their circle they were generous with favors.

  Denaro liked this city.

  The first time he came he received a terrible welcome, but once business began there were few people who kept promises so faithfully.

  If they welcomed you as a guest they entertained you lavishly and asked nothing in return.

  Those who felt the debt of gratitude and brought profit received treatment like family.

  There was no discrimination between countrymen and foreigners.

  Farid was one who treated him that way.

  After passing through customs and immigration, Denaro first took a room.

  The man at the desk openly turned his face away.

  He probably stank.

  Once he secured the room he went to the bathhouse.

  For a fee they would wash every inch of his body, shave his beard, and even give a massage.

  Of course by a man.

  His skin was dry and scaly from the sea wind, covered in grime; his hair was oily and itchy, his beard grown wild.

  He looked little better than a vagrant.

  In fact he was a vagrant of the sea.

  “Boss, this won’t come off without soap. It’ll cost extra for the water—is that okay?”

  Steam baths were common here; there were no tubs.

  “Yeah, go ahead. I’ve been at sea for over a month.”

  “Must’ve been tough.”

  While chatting the man washed him, removing grime and oil.

  The men here all grew beards, but he had everything shaved.

  After the bath Philo brought newly bought clothes.

  A simple white linen long robe with a sash, but the sleeves and hem fully covered the body.

  The sunlight was strong.

  He also wrapped cloth around his head and secured it firmly.

  Houses of pale brown sun-dried bricks stood in rows.

  Most houses were of similar design, so it was easy to lose one’s way, but Philo seemed to remember well.

  They took a carriage to the governor’s residence and asked the gate guard to announce them.

  After checking with the master he returned and conveyed the message to wait a little; he offered them couches on the terrace in the courtyard.

  Philo rolled over two large barrels.

  A large water basin stood in the courtyard, filled to the brim and reflecting the blue of the sky.

  Tall palm trees provided shade, and beneath them tropical plants bloomed.

  Suddenly a sweet scent mixed with cinnamon drifted over.

  A servant had brought drinks.

  Denaro thanked him and brought the cup to his lips.

  Coffee.

  Grown in the highlands around here, especially near Hera, it was known for its sweet aroma.

  When brewing, sprinkling a little cinnamon gradually produced a wonderful fragrance.

  The glaring sun outside seemed like a lie.

  At that moment Farid appeared from the depths of the room.

  Denaro stood and walked toward him.

  “Denaro! It’s been a long time. Have you been well?”

  He embraced Denaro’s shoulders in welcome.

  “Yes, of course. You look unchanged as well.”

  “Sorry to keep you waiting. Things were a bit busy. So what brings you today?”

  “Actually I have something I want you to see first. This is a gift for you.”

  He indicated the two barrels.

  “Twenty-three-year-old red from Lidonia, and this is Perish.”

  “This is wonderful. My wife will be delighted. May I try it?”

  Denaro nodded with a smile.

  Farid told the servant to bring two radirs and two silver cups each; they were prepared immediately.

  He opened the barrel lid, scooped with the radir, poured into the cup, swirled it lightly, and brought it to his mouth.

  He rolled it on his tongue as if savoring, then nodded.

  “This is excellent. Just my taste. Actually tonight we are holding a banquet to celebrate my son’s coming of age, but the wine I had prepared is not quite to my liking. It’s good, but a little too heavy. May I use these tonight?”

  “I would be delighted. Please enjoy them.”

  “Thank you! You must attend as well.”

  “Is that all right?”

  “Of course. You’ve come after so long—enjoy yourself. Tonight my son is the host. Watch him as he has grown.”

  In the custom of the nomadic people, boys were considered adults at fifteen and the quick ones inherited the household at that age.

  “I am honored. Thank you for the invitation.”

  “So, what is it you wanted to show me?”

  “Yes, here it is.”

  Denaro took the knife from his belt and offered it handle-first with the sheath still on, blade toward himself.

  “A short sword… no, a kitchen knife.”

  Farid removed the sheath and furrowed his brow.

  Not in anger.

  In astonishment.

  “It resembles His Majesty’s sword. But I heard that one is over eight hundred years old. This looks new. His Majesty’s sword was black, but what is this blue color!?”

  “Yes, it is recent. It is not a weapon but a kitchen knife. The sharpness is also extraordinary.”

  Farid told him to follow and headed for the kitchen.

  The cooks were frantically preparing for the banquet.

  Today’s meat was the sheep his son had slaughtered; the son would carve it himself and they would all eat together, so no meat had been prepared in advance.

  But he asked the head cook to bring leftover meat, placed it on the cutting board, and laid the blade on it.

  Then he drew it slowly; it sank in as if sucked.

  The head cook was also amazed at the abnormal sharpness.

  “I want my son to use this tonight. How about it—will you part with it?”

  “Of course. I brought it thinking you would say that.”

  “What do you want?”

  “How much would you pay for it?”

  “For kitchen use, fifty silver coins. I would pay more. But if it were a sword, any amount.”

  “Would people in this country buy it for fifty silver coins?”

  “You want to open a shop? I’ll take a cut, but you may use my name. It will definitely sell. After all, that unique striped pattern has become legendary. I’ll support you. More than anything, I want to meet the blacksmith. This technique vanished long ago. Where did you find it?”

  “In Elysia.”

  “Elysia?”

  Farid unusually raised his voice.

  “Yes. While looking for merchandise in Elvinas I happened to meet a group of craftsmen. They seemed to want to sell, so I called out.”

  “Unbelievable. To think it was in Elysia. Can you have swords made? If that is possible I will support the shop with any amount.”

  He placed a hand on his chin and thought.

  “Elysia, huh… Since the Elphant mines collapsed, weapon exports have been banned… All right, I’ll think of something. I still have some business left, so let’s talk again after the banquet.”

  With that he shook hands firmly and returned to work.

  About eight hundred years ago a mysterious iron had appeared in this region.

  It had a unique striped pattern when flat, and unlike other steels it had a black or blue surface and never rusted.

  Taking the name of those who made it, it was called Ronaal steel.

  The people who made it lived in the area for only a very short time, disappearing around the time of the great Elbes Volcano eruption, and the steel vanished with them.

  The only existing sword was owned by the King of Ashir.

  The banquet was harmonious throughout.

  Amid Farid’s relatives and local dignitaries, his son slaughtered a whole sheep.

  For nomadic people, serving a sheep to guests was the highest hospitality, and it was the host’s duty.

  It was also an important ceremony to show that he had become an adult.

  The boy, drenched in sheep’s blood and on the verge of tears, received guidance from his father Farid and splendidly fulfilled his role.

  In his hand was the Ronaal steel that Denaro had provided.