Kays Translations

Chapter 18: I Am Arthur, Five Years Old

When Rugena asked if I could sharpen the metal using alchemy, I found myself recalling the contents of the Compendium of Transmutation Circles.

That book, true to its title, was a collection of alchemical arrays—ten in total, each meticulously drawn and annotated. Their names were simple yet powerful:

[Heating, Cooling, Pressurizing, Molding, Cutting, Synthesizing, Extracting, Purifying, Separating, and Maturing]

Of course, I was certain that many other types of transmutation circles existed in the world, but if they weren’t listed in the compendium, I had no way of knowing their structure or usage.
For now, I decided to leave those unknown circles for later research and instead turn to the matter at hand—asking Rugena about metals.

She was eager to share her knowledge. According to her, the metals most commonly used included the precious ones—platinum, gold, silver, and copper—as well as rare metals like holy silver and magic silver. Then there were the ordinary metals—iron, lead, and others of similar nature.

But she didn’t stop there. Her eyes sparkled as she spoke of other, more unusual materials: Luminous Silver, a fragile yet dazzlingly bright metal; Lightsteel, a rare alloy that was impossibly light yet remarkably strong; and Black Hard Silver, a mysterious metal said to be workable only by dwarves.

“Besides those,” she added solemnly, “there are also metals that can’t be used at all.”

“Can’t be used?” I echoed, tilting my head.

“Yes,” she said, her tone serious. “Even the dwarves’ forges cannot melt them. There is a black and silver ore that resists every flame.”

She explained that this strange metal, though classified as a rare one, had no practical value because it couldn’t be refined. Since no one understood its properties, it had never been granted an official name. People simply called it Unbreakable Ore—Fuekou, the Indestructible Mineral.

“Would Arthur-sama be able to melt it?” she asked with a hopeful gleam.

“…Probably,” I replied after a moment of thought. “I can’t imagine a metal that wouldn’t melt at four times the heat needed to melt iron.”

A single heating array could raise the temperature to about a thousand degrees. I could use up to nine arrays at once, which meant, at least in theory, I could reach nine thousand degrees Celsius. I couldn’t imagine any metal surviving that level of heat.

Still, I knew well enough that melting wasn’t the same as mastering. Some metals only revealed their true potential after decomposition or alloying. Simply reducing them to liquid form wouldn’t be enough.

Mother had already negotiated permission for me to use the village forge when we returned, so I told Rugena that I’d continue the research there.

“I can’t wait to swing my hammer again!” she said with sparkling enthusiasm.

“Then we’d better finish our preparations quickly,” I smiled.

“Yes, Arthur-sama! I’ll do my best!”

Rugena’s eyes were burning with determination—she truly loved blacksmithing. Since she’d be the one working the hardest this time, I made a mental note to reward her later. Perhaps a good bottle of her favorite liquor would do.

The next morning, the master of the slave trading company arrived.

The first order of business was transferring ownership of Stefana. Once that was done, I asked whether we could purchase a skilled alchemist and a glass craftsman—the two roles that would form the core of our new business venture.

The merchant shook his head. “There are no alchemists available,” he said, “but there is a man known as the one who failed to become an alchemist.”

The story was a tragic one. He was the third son of a merchant family who had once studied alchemy at the noble academy. But when his family fell into financial ruin, he was forced to leave school and eventually sold into slavery. He had attended for about two years, so he could still perform basic alchemy if provided with the proper tools.

Given his commoner background, I figured he’d get along well with the glassworkers.

As for the glass craftsman himself, the merchant admitted he didn’t know of any confirmed ones currently for sale. He promised to check again once he returned to his office.

—[Meluestat: The Opsidio Trading Company]—

We left the recruitment matters in Tobias’s capable hands and went instead to the Opsidio Trading Company to decline their proposal from yesterday.

Today, I was accompanied not only by Mother, Rugena, and Stefana, but also by Diederick-san, a knight of the baron’s household who had volunteered as our escort. Interestingly, Diederick-san wasn’t dressed in armor today. Instead, he wore plain civilian clothes and carried, in place of a sword, a short thirty-centimeter iron baton with a knuckle guard—practical yet inconspicuous.

“Welcome, Arthur-sama,”

The same young clerk from yesterday greeted us as soon as we stepped inside.

“Good afternoon,” I said politely. “Is Heisbert-san available?”

“At once. Please, wait in the meeting room,” he replied, signaling to a maid.

The maid guided us into a tastefully decorated room and gestured toward the sofa. Mother and I sat, while our three companions stood quietly behind us.

“So, this lady is the creator?” the clerk asked, glancing toward Mother.

He must have assumed so because she was seated while the others stood. I gave a small sigh.

“…That’s something I’ll discuss directly with Heisbert-san,” I said calmly.

“I see,” he muttered, visibly dissatisfied.

Even yesterday, I had noticed—this young man was terribly lacking in tact. He didn’t even bother to hide his displeasure when corrected.

A knock soon interrupted the tension.

“Apologies for the delay, Arthur-sama,” came Heisbert’s composed voice as he entered with the maid in tow.

“Good afternoon, Heisbert-san,” I greeted him with a polite bow.

Heisbert immediately dismissed the sulking clerk with a curt, “You may return to your duties,” before taking his seat. The maid began setting out tea and sweets as the real discussion began.

“Arthur-sama,” Heisbert began with a warm smile, “is this beautiful lady perhaps the creator of the spectacles? I hadn’t expected such a lovely woman.”

“No,” I said clearly, emphasizing each word. “She is my beloved mother.”

“…Ah—! I see. My apologies then. So, your father must be a dwarf, yes? Forgive my assumption.”

“A dwarf?” I repeated, blinking.

Mother glanced at me, equally puzzled, and shook her head.

“My child’s father was not a dwarf,” she said gently.

“Oh? Then perhaps a quarter-dwarf?”

“There is no dwarf blood in this child,” Mother replied firmly.

“…Eh?! Truly?!”

I couldn’t help but feel bewildered. There wasn’t even the slightest trace of dwarven features in me—what on earth made him think that?

When I asked, his reasoning—though foolish—did make a certain kind of sense.

He said my way of speaking felt strangely mature for my age, my mannerisms too refined. When I’d rebuked his clerk earlier, he’d sensed a disconnect between my childlike appearance and my adult-like behavior. Then, noticing that our escort was a dwarf, he had concluded that I must be a half-dwarf pretending to be a child.

Apparently, the young clerk had fallen for the same assumption, which was why Heisbert-san had taken over afterward.

I sighed inwardly. It was probably my past-life memories showing through—my expressions and tone simply didn’t match a five-year-old’s. That realization stung more than I expected. Maybe to others, I seem…unnatural. Creepy, even. What if Mother starts to think the same?
The thought chilled me.

But when I glanced up at her, Mother just smiled and gently patted my head, her warmth chasing away my fear.

Right. I had promised myself that I’d make her happy. I couldn’t let trivial things shake that resolve.

“Heisbert-san,” I said evenly, “I’ve brought the response regarding your inquiry yesterday. The message is: ‘All information regarding the spectacles has already been sold to Baron Merlot. Please direct any further inquiries to his household.’”

I delivered the words calmly, as the true maker’s messenger.

“…But wasn’t I the first to approach you?” Heisbert frowned. “Surely even a baron should not ignore prior negotiation?”

It was true that he had reached out first, but I had already sold the information to Baron Tounis afterward. Still, there was nothing wrong with that.

“And what of it?” I replied mildly. “You asked me to introduce the creator. I said I would tell her you were interested. That was all. Did I ever promise anything else?”

Heisbert’s lips twitched. If all he wanted was information about the spectacles, he could have asked either the creator or the baron’s family—it made no difference.

“But I did say I wished to negotiate urgently!” he insisted.

“Indeed,” I nodded. “But what kind of negotiation, exactly?”

“Why, to purchase the manufacturing method, of course—ah…!”

He stopped mid-sentence, realizing his mistake. I kept my face composed, though I wanted to grin.

“Exactly,” I said. “You never stated what you wished to negotiate. I was never asked to mediate on your behalf. And if you truly desired priority, you should have demonstrated your sincerity—by formally stating your intention and paying for the right to negotiate first. Isn’t that how it’s done?”

That word sincerity didn’t mean bribery—it referred to offering payment to secure exclusive negotiation rights. A principle I had learned from the butler, Sebience-san.

“…Still,” Heisbert said with a sigh, shifting tactics, “I doubt the baron’s household can handle such information properly. If you were to entrust it to us instead, the profits would be far greater.”

He was trying to redirect the conversation. Perhaps he was right, but the Baron’s family were honorable people. They cared for others’ welfare—far more than profit. In their hands, the glass business would flourish fairly. That was what mattered.

“The baron has already purchased the information,” Mother said, cutting in with a voice like tempered steel. “That decision cannot be undone. Surely a man of commerce understands what that means.”

Her words struck like a hammer. Heisbert bowed slightly.

“…I see. Very well. I shall withdraw, then.”

“A wise decision,” Mother replied coolly.

“However, please tell the baron that if he ever requires assistance, our company would be more than willing to cooperate.”

“Understood,” she said simply, bringing the discussion to a close.

The negotiation had gone well enough—but honestly, it was nerve-wracking. I hoped I’d never have to face one like it again.

Before we left, Heisbert-san handed us a small catalogue of their merchandise—a thin booklet listing product categories, names, and brief descriptions. Then, just as we were about to go, he asked again:

“Are you sure there’s no dwarf blood in you, young master?”

“I’m Arthur,” I replied with a grin. “Five years old.”

That seemed to settle it.

After leaving the trading company, we began wandering through the streets.

At first, I didn’t understand why Diederick-san suggested we “take a little walk,” but Rugena leaned close and whispered:

“We’re being followed.”

“How is it?” Mother asked quietly as we turned a corner.

“Hmm… Subtle,” Diederick murmured. “They’re tailing us, but… I sense no hostility.”

“You can tell that?” Mother asked, amazed.

“If I couldn’t,” he said with a faint smirk, “I’d be unfit to serve as a knight.”

Apparently, being able to detect both pursuit and hostility was standard skill for a bodyguard knight. Diederick explained that he could only sense the presence of intent—whether hostile or neutral—not the exact purpose of the follower.

Stefana and Rugena, on the other hand, could sense the tail but not their emotions—another testament to Diederick’s skill.

“Tine-sama,” he said softly, “do you think they’ll give up?”

“It may not even be that company’s men,” Mother replied. “So we can’t say yet.”

Still, the fact that we didn’t know who they were meant one thing—the tail might continue until the spectacles went on sale.

In this world, there were no patents, no strict moral codes. To most people, if you were copied, it was your own fault. Victims were often blamed for not protecting their secrets.

That meant one thing: We would have to protect our own knowledge—no one else would.

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