Volume 5 Chapter 7 Alchemist Mahal
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
In the narrow alleys beneath the capital, this… it’s pretty harsh, to say the least.
Amidst the thick mud, fragments of what used to be stone paving lie buried, presumably torn up by the residents to use as building materials, leaving behind a once-grand road now in ruins.
Wherever remnants of the stone paving peek through, the wheels of carts bounce wildly with each turn, making one wonder if a simple dirt path might’ve been better.
Most cruel of all is the stench emanating from the mud. The sewage system that once covered the entire capital has been destroyed by the locals, leaving it nonfunctional.
It seems that the loss of governmental authority is to blame, but to tear down the infrastructure they themselves use, it’s just inconceivable.
This odor must be especially tough for those with a keen sense of smell, like Ms. Claire. I’ve heard these slums are hotbeds for disease; it’s no wonder with such conditions.
The Goddess of Purification doesn’t seem to care much, after all. The gods of this world don’t help those who won’t lift a finger themselves.
Children in tattered clothes watch us from the shadows. Our cart, loaded with a fine coffin, is being pulled by a pristine centaur. We couldn’t be more conspicuous.
I’m riding on Ms. Claire’s back, keeping a watchful eye from behind the cart. Guarding just me seems a bit reckless. We’re outnumbered and outgunned, and if things go south, there won’t be room for leniency. Even the kids will do whatever it takes to survive. Show a weakness, and even a grown man could be taken down.
I feel for them living in such a wretched place, but in this world where you won’t starve if you work hard, I can’t stand the instinct to steal when given the chance. You can harvest as much barley as you like, after all.
Even if they did work to harvest the wheat, the adults around them would just take it. It’s a vicious cycle – steal because you were stolen from, and the kids get caught up in the evil.
In the end, strength is justice in this world too. The weak naturally get robbed by the strong. Do those kids see me as weak? That’s the real question.
We’re prepared with the long sword borrowed from Mr. Zenom, just in case.
It’s called “The Mercenary’s Sword,” a simple, rough weapon. Just a steel rod hammered into a blade, not hardened, very basic.
Still, for this kind of sword, being a crude blade isn’t a big problem. It’s heavy for a one-handed sword and more of a blunt weapon to punch rather than cut, so even without sword skills, just pure strength can handle it.
It’s just iron, so it’ll chip or bend easily, but since you just hit it with a hammer to fix it, considering it a disposable weapon makes sense for fighting.
Its plain look makes it intimidating. Soldiers guarding the town prefer it, and to small-time villains, it’s a scary sight just to see it. It’s said to be effective as a talisman against thieves too.
Maybe they thought attacking someone armed was too risky. When the leader, a young man, gave the signal, the kids scattered like spiders, running away all at once.
* * *
Actually, the body inside the coffin is Ms. Nina wearing light armor. It’s bad luck, but putting her in the coffin (for) luck was Mr. Zenom’s idea.
In this world, when a baptized person dies, they are revived at a registered religious site──like a save point in a game. If revival fails and they’re lost, only a handful of ashes remain. Wealthy people might enshrine the ashes in temples, but commoners apparently have no graves.
If their body is accidentally left behind, they say it’s secretly cremated. Some believe leftovers mean weak faith, but maybe it’s just due to registration errors. I think misregistrations happen sometimes.
Rich or noble families hold big funerals, burying coffins with relics in cemeteries. It’s probably an old custom from when they used to bury the dead.
Since burial items are said to be under the domain of the underworld, what’s hidden in the coffin can’t be legally taxed or controlled in the mortal world.
Seemed like nobles and dwarves used to transport their lucky goods in coffins as a standard practice. The darkness in this world runs deep, huh?
Mr. Zenom said that if the motionless Ms. Nina were found by the Hero Management Bureau, she’d undoubtedly be retrieved.
To prevent the leakage of manufacturing techniques, the Doll Princesses are equipped with a self-destruct function. It activates when the magic crystal is almost depleted or when they’re about to be dismantled, turning the Doll Princesses to ash.
Despite her body being severed, Ms. Nina didn’t turn to ash. To the Hero Management Bureau, she’s an irregular existence. She’s not supposed to be found.
I had Mr. Zenom confirm that my repairs were proper, and the wiring connections were correct. As a golem, she’s fully functional. Since the Doll Princess is a combination of a golem and a homunculus, it seems there might be some issue with the homunculus part. Even the knowledgeable Mr. Zenom is a bit clueless when it comes to homunculi.
An old friend of Mr. Zenom’s living in the lower town knows about homunculi, so I took his letter and came to visit that person.
Once, wearing the temple guard uniform almost got us into trouble, but thanks to the coffin, we passed through without incident.
Beyond the lower town lies the noble’s necropolis, with towering walls of stacked stones that stretch endlessly. The bodies aren’t supposed to be buried, but a graveyard is still a spooky place. An elderly guard was eyeing us; maybe he mistook us for grave robbers dragging a coffin.
Right at the border of the necropolis and the lower town, there was the destination, a tool shop. The sign, a beautifully crafted brass transparency with a snake design swallowing my tail, was undoubtedly Mr. Zenom’s handiwork.
The shop was a single-story building clinging to the wall of the necropolis. As I’d heard, there was a courtyard and a storeroom in the back.
I’ll just park the cart in the courtyard for now. Ms. Claire and the others will keep watch while I go into the store alone.
As soon as I passed through the entrance, a strange, medicinal odor struck my nose. The inside of the shop resembles a eel’s nest, with shelves lined up against the walls, filled to the brim with a variety of items. Some goods even have price tags, all reasonably priced despite the rough handling.
The potions, herbs, and scrolls typical of RPGs are well-stocked. Potions are still quite expensive, though. With my meager HP, one hit could kill me, so I’ve never bought one before. They don’t last long, and without a magic bag, I’d be useless in no time.
But after a fierce battle with a rare boss in the Puppeteer’s dungeon, I was reminded of the importance of healing items. Now that I can use a magic bag, I want to be prepared for emergencies. However, the goods in this store are too pricey for me. The items seem decent, but I know the materials and methods for the lower-grade potions, so maybe I should just make my own.
”I don’t buy stuff here, you know.”
An old woman, nearly buried among the junk near the entrance, calls out to me. I guess I don’t look like I have enough money to shop here.
She’s a dwarf, isn’t she? It’s my first time seeing a female dwarf, but she looks a lot like Mr. Zenom. Her deeply wrinkled face even has a beard.
Still, those wrinkles might be a racial trait of dwarves. Is she really old? There’s a theory that dwarves look elderly even as children, making them a mysterious race. Someday, I’d like to ask Mr. Zenom, even if it’s impolite.
”Um, I was asked to deliver this to you.”
I hand over the envelope I received from Mr. Zenom.
The old woman examines the sealed envelope but seems to think she can’t make the judgment alone. She pulls a string-like bell hanging from the ceiling.
After a while, another old woman, who looks just like the first, comes through the inner door. People often say all dwarves look alike, but this is on another level. Could one of them be a cloned Homunculus?
Without hesitation, Old Woman #2 takes the envelope from #1 and opens the seal.
”You’re Zenom’s apprentice, huh? I can’t imagine what a human apprentice might be thinking.”
The voice is definitely a woman’s.
Maybe she’s surprisingly young.
”Are you Ms. Mahal?”
I heard she’s a talented alchemist who likes researching homunculi. From her vibe, I guessed she might be the old woman too.
”Yeah, that’s me. First, I need to quickly put your coffin away. We can talk details afterward. Hand me that.”
Ms. Mahal briskly walks into the courtyard, opening the rusty padlock hanging on the shed door. It’s simpler than a typical Earth padlock, even a novice thief could open it with enough time. So, inside isn’t anything very valuable.
Sure enough, when they go inside, many bulbs hanging from the shed’s beams look like onions or garlic. The wheat piled on the floor looks like horse feed.
When Ms. Joa and the others roll in with their cart, Ms. Mahal closes the door and locks it from inside.
”Listen, everything you see from now on is a secret.”
Her dramatic words make us tense, wondering what will happen next.
Ms. Mahal carefully moves objects like a stone grinder on the floor in sequence. She’s not tidying the shed; beneath the floor, some mechanism is moving. It’s probably a kind of key.
Suddenly, part of the floor tilts, revealing a passage underground. Like puzzle doors in castle dungeons in games, I never thought a barn in Lower Town could have such a trap.
When Ms. Mahal snaps her fingers, the underground passage lights up as if by magic. I couldn’t sense any mana flow, so it must be some mechanical device.
The passage’s floor, walls, and ceiling are all raw concrete. I was shocked when I first saw concrete in the royal castle──thought it wrecked the world view──but it’s not strange, since ancient Rome used it too.
It’s apparently a high-cost building material, so commoners’ houses wouldn’t typically have it.
Still, the underground tunnel is surprisingly long. Radar scans show it passes beneath the graveyard and runs straight through the center of the noble street.
”We’re here, but don’t make too much noise. We can’t go outside, and we need to make sure the neighbors don’t see us.”
At the end of the long corridor, to my surprise, was the basement of a splendid mansion. Ms. Mahal warned us, so I peered quietly through the gap in the second-story window’s armor plate at the outside scene. Beyond the high wall enclosing the courtyard, similar mansions stood in a row.
In fact, there are no exits at all in the walls surrounding this mansion. The only way in and out is through the underground passage.”
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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