Is It Wrong to Try to Pick Up Girls in a Dungeon? On the Side: Sword Oratoria, Vol. 4

by Fujino Omori, Kiyotaka Haimura

  Hephaistos had agreed, so long as her followers were guaranteed the drop items from the Dungeon. Thus, an alliance had been forged between the two familias.

  “Your acceptance of our proposal means the world to us, Lady Hephaistos.”

  “Oh? Such gratitude from a prum of valor like yourself is a distinction all its own. It brings me nothing but honor to help you and your familia on your trek through the Dungeon.” Hephaistos’s eye crinkled in response to Finn’s deep bow.

  “Your words are too kind, milady.” Finn’s eyes closed at the goddess’s dignified demeanor.

  “This is the first time y’all are meetin’, right?”

  “It is. Though we’ve greeted each other many times in the past, this is the first time we’ve spoken face-to-face, I believe,” Finn said.

  “Let’s continue this conversation inside, yes?” Hephaistos suggested before guiding Loki and Finn toward her workshop. The two followed her into the building, surrounded by the clamorous clanking of metal on metal.

  “We’ve been asking her again and again to have a meeting before the expedition…Finally had to just come here ourselves. She really doesn’t ever leave her workshop, does she?”

  Loki just laughed. “She’s just like you, Phai-Phai! A real craftsman at heart. Seems the apple don’t fall far from the tree after all, eh?”

  “I suppose some things never change.”

  Hephaistos let out a sigh, which elicited another chuckle from Loki and a quirk of the lips from Finn.

  Immediately upon entering the doorway, they were greeted with the strong smell of iron, which permeated the air of the workshop and the considerably sized smithy connected to it. Lacking sufficient magic-stone lamps, the space was shrouded in dim shadow, the main source of light coming from the brilliant red flames of the roaring furnace.

  Now that they’d entered the building, the mad clang, clang of metal on metal they’d been able to hear outside besieged their eardrums all the more. It was there, farther inside the workshop, that they saw her.

  She was facing away from them, surrounded on all sides by some of the biggest tools they’d ever seen and pounding animatedly at an ingot on her anvil with a hammer.

  Ember after ember from the nearby furnace singed the copper skin of her cheeks; sweat poured from her face in rivulets, adding still more to her aura of gallantry. While her disciplined features lacked the feminine allure of a woman, there was a different sort of beauty about her—ferocious, like a blazing pyre: the epitome of a craftsman.

  She took no notice of Hephaistos and the others, eyes glued to her anvil as the hammer descended with one mighty strike after another.

  Finn and Loki came to a stop a few steps away from the forge. Hephaistos gestured silently for them to wait, and they complied with a nod, simply watching over the lone smith at work.

  The woman’s ebony ponytail shuddered, and with one final clang of the hammer, her hand came to a stop. Without missing a beat, she snatched the completed sword body from off her anvil with a pair of tongs.

  There was a hiss, followed by a plume of steam. A honed, polished blade came into view. A novice watching could have no way of knowing how long she’d spent on the weapon as she slapped together the hilt and flange. In a flash, the sword was complete.

  She spent a moment scrutinizing the crimson blade in her hand before finally letting out a sigh.

  “Tsubaki.” Hephaistos beckoned the woman with long black hair flowing down her back.

  The one she’d called Tsubaki turned around.

  “Oh?” As though noticing them just now, her right eye widened in surprise. Almost instantly, her face broke into a broad smile.

  “How many weeks has it been, my goddess? Need something? No, wait! Take a look at this magic sword I just whipped up. I’m pretty confident about this one.”

  As old as the woman looked, you’d almost think she was a child by the way she gleefully held out her sword, all smiles.

  “I was just here two days ago…” said Hephaistos, responding to the woman’s endless stream of words with a sigh. “We need to discuss your upcoming expedition with Loki’s team. I told you this, right?” The hint of frustration was tangible.

  “Ohh!” Tsubaki bellowed in what seemed like acknowledgment. She walked over to them with a laugh. “That’s right, that’s right!”

  “Good to see you again, Tsubaki.”

  “Well, if it isn’t Finn! Tiny as ever! When you’re cooped up in a shop all day, ya start missin’ the warmth of other people. C’mere and gimme a squeeze, would ya?” Tsubaki exclaimed before approaching the prum with her arms outstretched.

  “I’m afraid I’ll have to decline,” Finn said with a wry smile. “Tione would have my head if she found out.”

  The woman let out a bellow of laughter.

  Tsubaki Collbrande was the captain of Hephaistos Familia.

  Not only did she command the virtual army of High Smiths that made up the familia of forge work, she herself was the most skilled smith in all of Orario.

  She was a half-dwarf, her parents a human from the Far East and a dwarf from the continent; she boasted a set of graceful features reminiscent of her eastern origins. Standing at a good 170 celch, she was fairly tall with long arms and legs, no doubt thanks to her human blood—a quality that apparently made her the envy of her short-limbed dwarven brethren.

  Her work wear boasted the eastern flair of her mother’s homeland, the bottom consisting of a brilliant red hakama and the top consisting of nothing but a bleached cloth pulled tight around her ample bosom. As for why she kept her copper-colored stomach and shoulders bare in spite of the constant assault of embers, well, Finn had once heard her explain that the forge was “damn hot!”

  Topping everything off were a shapely red right eye and, most notably, a jet-black eye patch nearly identical to Hephaistos’s—the only difference being that it covered Tsubaki’s left eye instead of her right.

  “By the looks of it, ya made somethin’ ridiculous again, didn’t ya, Cyclops?”

  “You know I don’t like that name, Loki! Makes me feel like some kinda monster! How’d you like it, huh?” Tsubaki’s face soured as Loki snickered at the newly finished sword in her hands.

  “Cyclops” was the title given to Tsubaki by the other deities.

  Being both a smith and a Level 5 adventurer, with the combat skills to prove it, made her a bit of an oddity if not an outright demon.

  The peerless combat skills of the almost excessively unique craftsmen (Tsubaki included) was just one of the many reasons other factions rarely attacked Hephaistos Familia—that and its establishment as an invaluable familia of smiths.

  Loki snickered somewhat lecherously. “I will say yer lookin’ as busty as ever. Look! Practically fallin’ outta that thing you call a shirt!”

  “Want ’em? You can have ’em! These two lumps of fat do nothin’ but get in the way at the forge. Don’t need ’em!”

  “Guh-hah!” Loki nearly choked. She hadn’t expected her obscene remark to be met with such scathing retaliation.

  Tsubaki just cackled, the twin mounds in question bouncing somewhat stiffly within their cloth restraint.

  “Shall we get back to the subject at hand?”

  “Let’s. Time is of the essence, after all.”

  Ignoring Loki in her plight, Finn and Hephaistos attempted to steer the conversation back on track.

  “Yes, ma’am!” Tsubaki nodded between mouthfuls, snacking on a piece of soot-covered jerky that had been sitting on her desk for who knows how long while she’d busied herself at the forge.

  And with that, once Loki had recovered, the deities and captains of both familias, shrouded in the gloom of that dim workshop, dove straight into discussion regarding their upcoming expedition.

  “Look, I’m just gonna ask ya straight—how many High Smiths ya givin’ us?”

  “Hmm…Looking at smiths who are not only experienced craftsmen but able-bodied adventurers, as well…I’d say we have
about twenty, Tsubaki included. Every one of them is at least Level Three, so you can have faith in their abilities,” Hephaistos replied.

  There was no telling what might happen upon entering the Dungeon. It would be to their advantage to have party members who could not only maintain their weapons but take care of themselves in a pinch.

  “That’s reassuring. Though I have to ask—will you be joining us, as well, Tsubaki?” Finn inquired.

  “For sure! I wanna see those depths for myself. That and, if at all possible, I’d like to be the one nabbin’ any new materials,” Tsubaki replied, brimming with curiosity as to what awaited them beyond the floors her own faction had traversed. She shot them a smile devoid of worry. “It’ll be a great opportunity!”

  “And what of our Durandal weapons?”

  “A-OK there! Five of ’em, each one prepped personally!”

  “Nice, Tsubaki. Thank ya.”

  “Can I ask you two to give Bete Loga an earful for me? Near impossible request he gave me! Comin’ to me cryin’ that his poor Frosvirt was all in pieces—took me forever to rebuild! Damn werewolf.”

  Knowing they’d have those caterpillar monsters to deal with from the fiftieth floor onward—nasty critters that secreted corrosive, weapon-destroying fluids—Finn and the others had left their Durandal Superiors with Hephaistos and her crew. This included the weapons for each of their top-class adventurers excluding Aiz, who already had Desperate, and Riveria, who was simply a magic user.

  Tsubaki had already finished up all the Durandal weapons, so when Bete had come to her with his Superior, Frosvirt, completely destroyed after their bout with Levis on the twenty-fourth floor, she’d been put out, to say the least. Apparently he’d come running immediately after the incident, demanding personally that she “fix it before the expedition!”

  Tsubaki had been working day and night without sleep readying the equipment for their main party. Finn and Loki both made sure to offer her additional words of thanks.

  “Though, really, I’m not sure that magic sword was necessary…”

  “Yeah, we did already order a bunch o’ Superiors from y’all, and yer stuff ain’t exactly, uh, cheap…”

  “Come now. Surely a familia like yours should have no problem getting a loan.” Hephaistos’s left eye crinkled in mirth.

  It was true that a magic sword, what with its instant, long-range capabilities, would be a good candidate for taking on those caterpillars. But magic swords were already expensive enough, let alone a top-tier model from Hephaistos Familia.

  “G-go easy there…” Loki replied with a forced laugh.

  “Though I gotta say, when it comes to craftin’ magic swords…you could do better than me,” Tsubaki mumbled to herself.

  “What, do you mean there’s someone better than you in that familia of yours?” Finn posed, to which Tsubaki nodded happily.

  “Someone far better at forgin’ magic swords! Fact is, I don’t think there’s anyone what knows more ’bout magic swords than that person in the whole world.”

  Both Finn’s and Loki’s eyes widened in surprise.

  Tsubaki Collbrande was the finest smith in all of Orario.

  Hearing that there was someone even better than her, the master smith, was a shock, to say the least.

  “For you to talk about them like that, they must be someone, indeed. Who is it?”

  As though waiting for Finn to ask just that question, Tsubaki chuckled gleefully.

  “Listen and be amazed! It’s none other than that ol’ blue blood—”

  “That’s enough, Tsubaki,” Hephaistos interrupted. “You know as well as I that our colleague would prefer their lineage kept a secret.”

  Left Eye Patch grumbled sullenly in response to Right Eye Patch’s stern admonishment.

  “Come oooon! We got nothin’ to lose! Lemme tell ’em!”

  “Good grief! It’s this kind of self-centered carelessness that’s already sent people to him asking about magic swords. Remember how angry he was?”

  It was clear to Finn and Loki that things were a bit complicated among the members of Hephaistos Familia.

  Tsubaki, however, showed no signs that she’d actually taken Hephaistos’s scolding to heart.

  “Such a waste! All that talent and he ain’t even usin’ it. Makes no sense to me.” Tsubaki sighed, her gaze falling to the red blade in her hand—the magic sword fresh from the forge.

  Then, in that moment…

  The air around her hardened.

  “Whether it’s blood or somethin’ else, if we don’t invest everything we got, us little folks’ll never get close to the domain of the gods. Things like all-powerful weapons ain’t nothin’ but dreams,” Tsubaki concluded, voice low. The ravenous glint in her right eye was enough to shame even the nearby furnace.

  It was the same glint Loki and the others had seen so many times in the eyes of adventurers like Aiz, who constantly aimed higher and higher.

  The look of pride, a thirst for more, and the insatiable perseverance of a craftsman.

  Tsubaki knew that if she didn’t bet everything, she’d never be able to forge a piece worthy of the gods, let alone one that surpassed them. It was something only she could know, having reached the highest pinnacle one could as a craftsman.

  Tearing her gaze away from her creation, Tsubaki glanced over at Hephaistos and let out a bold peal of laughter.

  Hephaistos slumped her shoulders with a sigh at her follower’s bald-faced aggression.

  “That’s craftsmen for ya. Must be tough, Phai-Phai.”

  “Mmn…At any rate, shall we return to the issue at hand?”

  Steering the conversation back on track, the quartet moved on to sketching out the expedition.

  “Is the plan to meet in front of Babel, then? And enter from there together?”

  “Yes. Once inside the Dungeon, my team and I will do our best to protect the rest of the group. While this may need to change in emergency situations, for the most part all combat should be left to us.”

  “We’ll help with half of the supplies. We’ve come this far already—might as well share the load.”

  “Thanks, Phai-Phai. Appreciate it.”

  The four of them ran through their respective final checklists before bringing the meeting to a close, and then Finn and Loki bid the others farewell and left the workshop behind them.

  Preparations for Loki Familia’s expedition were well under way.

  “Hey, uh…Miss Aiz? There was something I wanted to talk to you about!”

  They were four days into their training, having just completed a rather strenuous practice bout atop the city walls.

  It was just a bit before sunrise—their decided-upon time for wrapping things up—when Bell approached Aiz, considerably red-faced and flustered.

  “It’s, uh, well…tomorrow, see? My supporter won’t be able to go to the Dungeon tomorrow because of issues with her lodging, so, uh…I was thinking maybe I wouldn’t go, either, so, uh…well…I was just thinking that…that maybe tomorrow we could…Instead of just in the morning…”

  “…Train…all day?” Aiz finished for him.

  “Y-yes!” Bell stuttered with boisterous nods of his head.

  Aiz slid her sword back into her scabbard before letting her gaze travel skyward and quietly contemplating.

  She was supposed to be training Lefiya then…but Lefiya and Aiz were part of the same familia. They could get together whenever they felt like it.

  Plus, to be honest, Aiz wanted to spend more time with Bell to improve his combat skills.

  The short time they had before the sun rose wasn’t enough.

  Which was why, with a silent apology to Lefiya, Aiz agreed.

  “Very well.”

  That was the story Aiz personally relayed to Lefiya, apology included, and which was also the reason the elf wasn’t able to train with her today.

  Three days remained until the expedition.

  It was supposed to be Lefiya’s fourth day of t
raining, as she was one day behind Bell.

  But that morning found her walking despondently down the busy main street in a tremendously bad mood.

  Her azure eyes sat almost entirely still in their sockets, and her normally graceful elven features exuded a kind of silent animosity. From the demi-humans engaged on the sidewalks to those she passed in the street, everyone averted their eyes.

  She gripped her beloved staff tightly to her chest, resentment saturating her very being.

  “He’s not even part of our faction…he’s not even part of our faction…he’s not even part of our faction…!”

  Disgraceful! Shameless! I can’t believe it!

  Each tear-choked condemnation muttered under her breath was directed at that boy.

  The impudence of haggling for a full day of the Sword Princess all to himself. She could feel the anger building up inside her just thinking about it. Unable to raise an objection to Aiz, Lefiya’s blame was, instead, being launched at the boy in continuous tear-laced salvos. Is he really such an absolute nitwit?!

  The path she currently trudged along was on North Main Street, not far from her familia’s home.

  She was on her way to the Dungeon to do a bit of training on her own—what other choice did she have? The cerulean sky stretched odiously above her, shining down on the bustling cobblestones.

  “—Viridis?”

  It hit her ears just as her vision had practically darkened in rage.

  The sound of her last name.

  “Hmm?” She spun around to find a young elven girl standing a few steps behind her.

  She had long jet-black hair reminiscent of a shrine maiden’s, and her eyes shone like a pair of scarlet rubies.

  Snow-white battle gear enshrouded her slender figure all the way to her neck, topped with a short cape. Beside her, a golden-haired god waited patiently.

  The sight of her made Lefiya stop short in surprise.

  “Miss Filvis…” she muttered under her breath.

  The girl in white, Filvis, wore a startled look of her own.