Chapter Fourteen: The Jester

Early in the morning, Hamlet Town was already brimming with the vitality of daily life.

The native inhabitants, a tribe of ratfolk, were busy washing themselves in the river flowing through the town.

It might not have been the most hygienic method, but it was certainly “clean and sanitary” enough.

Many gatherers had already set out, sprinting out of Hamlet Town toward nearby gathering spots to collect ingredients. This remote little town, a place beyond civilization known mostly for the sight of snarling wyverns, wasn’t much of a commercial hub beyond some local delicacies. Still, life here wasn’t overly harsh; the competition was different. To settle down in Hamlet Town, a modest estimate suggested that an annual income of thirty gold lire was sufficient to live comfortably with a little to spare.

So, despite their rough exteriors, these gatherers were well-liked men and women in the local community.

On the road, Maria spoke in a leisurely tone:

“Amé, have you decided on what weapon you want to use? I heard from Soso that you’re not impressed with the weapons used by the Echo Squad.”

Melina replied, “I haven’t thought that far yet. But are you telling me you actually managed to make those control cores?”

“Hmph.”

Maria smugly lifted her chin. “Of course I did. What do you take me for? I’m totally cheating!”

Now, she boldly admitted to ‘cheating’—thinking back, Melina suspected Maria would rather be her ‘cheat code’ than Sonia’s. “My system is pretty straightforward—it mainly handles automated mechanical manufacturing.”

Sounds enviable.

“Weapons, huh…” Melina looked up at the sky, grinding her teeth.

They passed through East Hamlet and entered the western part of town.

As they moved further from the blacksmith shops, Melina asked, “Aren’t we going to the equipment shop?”

“Hamlet Town’s blacksmiths are quite famous, but not suitable for our long-term plans,” Maria said with a gentle smile. “Gear made in one region doesn’t simply upgrade when you move to another town like in games. Each armorer and weaponsmith has their own secret techniques—skills passed down through hands-on teaching.”

Melina’s gaze swept over Maria’s armor.

Maria chuckled softly: “It was all made by the same craftsman. And now, that craftsman has been invited here by Soso. You know, Sonia’s done plenty of bad things. As a reincarnated soul, she possesses vast intelligence and information. This craftsman has some leverage or desires that Sonia holds over her.”

Sonia was indeed a woman of ill repute… Melina nodded in agreement.

Then, she quietly asked, “Is this craftsman another banshee?”

“How did you know?” Maria asked, curious.

Melina opened her parasol, resting the handle on her left shoulder as she twirled it gently, saying nothing. Her golden eyes fixed on Maria.

“Shy?” Maria smiled warmly, misunderstanding. “Don’t worry, Amé, that craftsman is a very good person. A very professional artisan. She measured me and left some allowance, so even though I’ve gained some weight, my armor still fits…”

“Measured by hand?” Melina looked at Maria’s slender waist, curiosity gleaming in her eyes.

For some reason, Maria felt a chill and looked up. It was a scorching day—how odd!

But she brushed off the feeling and answered, “It’s a magical tape measure that automatically takes the measurements. Oh, if you’re worried about being touched, I can warn you in advance. Many people aren’t comfortable with physical contact.”

Maria was considerate, truly a good woman.

Melina returned a faint, calm smile, gently twirling her parasol. “It’s fine; I’m just… curious. After all, Sister Maria is so beautiful—people probably take advantage of her easily.”

“Really!”

Maria beamed happily. “Thank you.” Then eagerly, she asked, “What about you, Amé? I bet you have quite a few suitors.” She sized Melina up. “I imagine you must be the school’s belle. It’s a pity I haven’t kept in touch with many juniors or seniors; otherwise, I’d have gotten all your gossip by now.”

At that, Melina’s cheeks flushed slightly. She lowered her hand holding the parasol, letting the black lace canopy cover the upper part of her face.

“Not… many.”

After Melina decided not to become an explorer, more than a thousand juniors and seniors had invited her to their homes as a long-term guest. They just waited for the right mood and opportunity for mutual ‘egg-laying’—banshees, vampires, and elves were renowned for their oviparous nature. It was said that the shell of their first meal contained much inherited knowledge. (Though Melina found this to be nonsense, having cracked her own eggshell with no special insight.)

“Oh, you must be very popular!” Maria said confidently. “I guess your admirers are as numerous as a fully-staffed hunting party—a full team of 300 people!”

More precisely, about four full hunting teams.

…

Near a small hill in West Hamlet, they arrived at an expanded tent, clearly crafted by banshee artisans. This was their destination.

The craftsman’s true form appeared before Melina.

Unlike the rough and wild banshee she had imagined, this woman exuded a calm elegance. With pale golden hair, delicate features, and a fair complexion, she wore a long dress with a small capelet. Her deep crimson eyes were serene and gentle.

She looked less like a craftsman and more like a scholar.

Spotting the two approaching, she greeted them in a voice as calm as a windless lake: slow and measured.

“Miss Maria, I have come at Miss Sonia’s invitation. Am I here to custom-make equipment for this young lady? Also, may I ask—a personal curiosity—did Miss Sonia not come with you?”

Each word was enunciated clearly, with a softness that brooked no argument.

“She said she needed to catch up on sleep, you know how she is. She also told us to order roast veal takeout for her.”

Is that really something to say so plainly? Melina suspected, but suddenly a flash of light caught her eye.

In that moment, the tall, calm, pale-gold-haired banshee’s crimson eyes shimmered with tears—and she actually began to cry.

Hey, hey! They made her cry!

Melina’s eyes widened like a startled precious cat, glancing at Maria, who, also blonde, showed no sign of worry, just a beaming smile.

After about a second:

“Sheesh.”

“What was that noise?” Melina eyed the craftsman suspiciously.

Suddenly, the woman broke into a wild, toothy grin.

“Ahahaha!” Her laughter rang out clear and high as she rubbed her eyes. “Sonia… Sonia is as entertaining as ever, ahahaha! No wonder she’s the woman who gifted me ‘3000 Cold Jokes,’ ahahaha!”

“Eh?” Melina involuntarily let out a frightened sound.

…

This banshee’s name was Lee Carly Austin.

She called herself a cold joke artist, with a side job as a modest equipment maker and ecological researcher. Though she had no notable achievements as a comedian, her small contributions in ecology were significant—she had cataloged 1,200 species of creatures in the Stormlands, a vast realm, earning her name in the book “Stormlands: Diverse Ecological Creatures.”

This woman was impressive.

But as a naturally clever banshee, she loved cold jokes above all else. It was unknown how Sonia had obtained this information—likely from her rebirth—but with ease, she acquired many rare cold joke collections and used them alongside local ecological knowledge as bait to successfully lure this woman here.

…

This artisan was also nicknamed “The Jester.”

She was now measuring Melina’s clothing size, standing close enough to almost envelop her with her body.

Melina did not resist the intimate measuring.

On the one hand, the artisan’s reputation lent weight to her words: “Clothing must fit well.”

On the other hand… Melina wasn’t particularly averse to being touched by her.

Miss Lee was experienced, knowing how to touch without startling sensitive girls and how to say flattering things to win their favor.

“Your figure is excellent. Unique. You must have put a lot of effort into maintaining it.”

“Th-thank you?” Melina blushed in embarrassment at the praise.

“Really, black suits you well.” Miss Lee held her finger with her silk-gloved hand, gently stroking Melina’s black-polished nails. “Now, raise both your arms.”

Melina paused, then lifted her arms. The artisan took her measurements with the tape.

It was a little awkward.

Melina, feeling the need to fill the silence, asked, “Miss Lee, have you traveled to many places?”

“Yes, don’t judge by my appearance, but I’m much older than you. In my youth, I traveled extensively to gather first-hand materials. Interestingly, it seems we’re entering a period of crustal changes, and many powerful wyverns rarely seen before have appeared.”

“Crustal changes?”

“Exactly,” Lee replied cheerfully. “A great influx of magical factors is erupting from the crust, attracting many wyverns. In fact, aside from discussing investments in cold jokes with Miss Sonia, there’s another matter on my mind.”

“Hm?”

Melina lowered her hands.

Lee glanced at the measurements, eyes widening in rare surprise.

The next moment, she nonchalantly concealed the data and said,

“Hamlet Town has a folk song that, when combined with recent crustal changes and surging magical factors, seems to hold some research value.”

She paused, then began to sing in her ethereal and beautiful voice, slow and deliberate:

“When the stars return to their places, on the day the crust changes, the golden master brings abundant harvest, the golden master brings ripe plenty, gaze upon the sky, the high shining gold, in their name we sing, golden oh golden.”

She stopped, smiling at Melina.

“There are ninety-seven variants of this folk song in the Weeping Peninsula—astonishingly similar. So, it’s worth investigating. In ancient times, people often revered dragons as legends… Hmm? What’s with your expression?”

Melina wore a slightly dazed look.

After a moment, with a somewhat sheepish smile and full of curiosity, she posed a small question to the ecological master, the Jester:

“If the legend were true, how large would this ‘golden master’ dragon be?”

The Jester pointed toward East Hamlet:

“About this big, if it’s real. But how could a dragon this size go so many years without hunting? Hahaha. Maybe it’s just a folk song. Folk songs come from human worship, and sometimes such worship creates false images or products of imagination.”