Nozomanu Fushi no Boukensha (LN) - Volume 9 - Chapter SS2

The Princess’s Table

“Are you serious?” Lorraine asked, looking like she had a headache.

Deep down, I agreed with her, but all I could do was nod quietly.

In front of us sat a worn old table. It was part of the request I had accepted, so we had it on loan.

A few hours ago, Wolf had brought me a job. It wasn’t quite an official request, but there were jobs that Wolf gave directly to the most suitable adventurer. This request happened to be one of those. He’d chosen me for it because I just happened to have the widest circle of acquaintances in Maalt.

“What are you talking about?” I asked Wolf.

“I want you to find the artisan who made this table.”

When I followed Wolf’s gaze, I saw a worn old table sitting there. Now it all made sense. I could definitely handle this much. I began listing carpenters here in town.

Wolf added, “Evidently, this table was made fifty years ago.”

“Pardon?”

“Like I said, it’s fifty years old. The carpenter who made it was in his twenties at the time.”

“Then that’d mean they’re well into their seventies. They’re already retired. To find someone who’s retired...” I was pretty sure that was impossible.

Wolf looked at me pleadingly, an unusual expression for him. “That’s exactly it. Since everyone who was offered the job said they couldn’t do it, it ended up coming to me. Please. This is a request from a princess. It’s hard to turn down.”

It wasn’t that princesses in their seventies didn’t exist, but it was still hard to imagine.

“She’s in her twenties,” Wolf continued, proving my assumption incorrect. “She inherited the table from the original owner, her grandmother. And her grandmother’s dying wish was that this table be returned to its creator. She even included in her will that the princess wouldn’t inherit her estate if she didn’t.”

“Oh boy, that sounds like a headache and a half.”

“Yeah, it is. So please, do this as a favor to me.”

“Okay, fine,” I agreed.

While I had the option of declining, Wolf seemed to be in a real bind. I figured no one other than me would accept the job, so I decided I’d take it. I also figured I might as well ask Lorraine to help me. She resisted at first, but in the end, she relented.

“Fine. But if we’re going to do this, we’re going to find this man,” she declared.

And so began our search for this carpenter.

◆◇◆◇◆

“Is this the right place?” I asked, looking at the weathered old house.

“Yeah, it should be,” Lorraine replied.

“It took less time than I expected,” said the other person present. Her golden blonde hair was cropped into a short bob, and her eyes sparkled with an inborn pride. She was a noblewoman with a faintly Machiavellian air, and she was our employer for this job.

When we reported that we’d found the person she was looking for, she had immediately come to see us. She was remarkably quick to move for a noble.

“Perhaps it would have been better for you to have waited until we were certain,” Lorraine offered.

The woman politely chuckled. “My grandmother told me that he would deny it if asked, so the only way to be certain is to watch his reaction when he sees the table.”

“Is that why I had to carry it all this way?” I inquired.

The table in question was strapped to my back. We’d brought it because the noblewoman had asked us to.

The noblewoman looked at me with a faintly apologetic look, but continued, “Well then, shall we say hello?” She stepped forward and opened the door to the house.

“Well, that part of her is certainly noble,” I quipped.

“They’re all like that. But she is rather friendly. I’d say she’s a good noble,” Lorraine observed.

I nodded. While I got the sense that she went her own way, there was no indication that she actively looked down on us.

We then followed the woman into the house.

◆◇◆◇◆

“I’m not the craftsman,” the old man said with a sullen expression, rejecting the idea in a low voice.

The noblewoman turned to us as though to say, “See, I told you that would happen.”

Lorraine and I exchanged glances. This seemed like quite a hassle. I was wondering just how we were going to sort this out when, surprisingly, the noblewoman offered a way forward.

“Then you are fine if we break it?” she asked as she looked at the table strapped on my back.

With a note of panic, the old man exclaimed, “Wha?! Isn’t this a memento of your grandmother?!”

The noblewoman laughed. “Not at all. This is my inheritance. It’s mine to do with as I please. Very well, Rentt, please ready the sledgehammer.”

As ordered, I retrieved a sledgehammer from my magic bag. The noblewoman was stronger than she looked, and she picked up the heavy tool without any visible strain. I realized then that she knew how to use magic to enhance her physical abilities.

Just before the hammer was about to make contact with the table, the old man intervened.

“Please wait!” he shouted.

“Oh?” said the noblewoman.

“Please don’t destroy it. Yes, I’m the one who made it.”

The noblewoman set down the sledgehammer. “Then you should have said so earlier.”

Nothing particularly noteworthy happened after that. The old man explained why he’d sent the table to the woman’s grandmother. They had once been lovers, but her family had forced them to separate. Since he couldn’t marry her, he’d made the table for her so that she always had something to remember him by. It was because she’d kept that promise that we’d brought the table to him.

Once the old man had finished his story, the noblewoman asked, “So, how do I open this?”

“What? No one told you?” the old man asked in surprise.

“It was my grandmother’s dying wish that I ask you directly. I had to agree to that condition when I inherited the family title.”

“I see. That’s very much like her. Here, this is how you open it.”

The old man moved the various protrusions on the underside of the table, and the tabletop opened like a clamshell, revealing two envelopes within. One was addressed to the old man, while the other...

“A last will and testament. So you were here for that?” the old man guessed.

“Yes, that’s correct. My business here is finished. I return the table to your care.”

The noblewoman turned to Lorraine and me and said, “Come, time to go.” Then she quickly left the house.

We followed behind her. When I turned to glance behind me, I saw the old man weeping as he read the letter addressed to him.

◆◇◆◇◆

“So were you really here to get that will?” I asked the noblewoman.

She chuckled and inquired, “Oh? What else could it be?”

“If all you wanted was the will, you could’ve just broken that table.”

“If you understand that much, then there’s no need to ask, is there? Lorraine, this man’s a bit of a boor, isn’t he?”

“That part of his charm, m’lady.”

The women exchanged chuckles. I felt faintly irritated by their conversation, but their contented faces did make me feel I’d been a bit boorish to ask such a question.