Chapter 111 A Place to Return
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
The head of the merchant guild was the highest authority over trade and distribution in Whirlwind. He’d come from some distant province, his accent carrying a peculiar twist that made his words feel shifty at first. His face didn’t help much—he always looked like he was plotting something. But when it came to business, the man was nothing but sincere.
I first met him when the City Mayor introduced us, after I’d gone to her to discuss spreading the use of my Torimochi traps. When I explained the product, he quoted me a hefty selling price and patent fee. I wasn’t after profit, though—I wanted the thing to spread. So I pressed hard, and after a long, pale-faced pause, he nodded. I set the patent fee at a flat five million a year, and the unit price at around a hundred and twenty. That left a profit margin of twenty per piece. He hesitated, then accepted.
By the next time we met, sales were climbing, and the spread of Torimochi had gone far beyond expectations. He practically leapt at me in gratitude.
Later, when I let the contracted crafters handle the sale of my drying-based healing ointment applicators, it was everywhere by the following year.
For all that, he wasn’t just a shrewd businessman. After the Grand Subjugation that killed my parents, he donated his own funds to help the families of the fallen. A soft-hearted fool, really. I had a feeling he’d do something like that again this time.
”Tatara-han,” he said, using that drawling accent of his, “did you know the City Mayor said only one person’ll handle the reconstruction? Ain’t nobody else allowed to sell materials for it.”
”This is my first time hearing that,” I replied. “But if that’s the case, you can go ahead and sell them to me.”
”…Hold on. Reconstruction—you mean—”
”Yes. I was ordered by the City Mayor to take charge.”
He explained that the reason no one was selling was because they’d been told not to. Because I was the one doing the work.
”Yesterday,” I went on, “after fighting that Angel race, I met with the Mayor to discuss a few things. She told me—’you’ll handle the reconstruction alone.’”
”…But ain’t Tatara-han supposed to be a magic-device specialist?”
”That’s just my main trade. I can handle anything, really. This’ll only take half a day.”
”Tatara-han… you sure you’re human?”
”Pure human, through and through.”
He stared at me for a long moment, clearly conflicted. Then, finally—
”…Tatara-han, you really think you can do it?”
”I can. The City Mayor herself named me her successor, after all.”
He narrowed his eyes, the faint glint behind them sharp as a blade. I met his gaze head-on. After a silent beat, he nodded.
”Yeah,” he said at last, smiling faintly. “You’ve got the look of someone who can pull it off. All right then. I’ll take responsibility for the rest.”
His tone carried a strange brightness that made my chest loosen. I couldn’t help but sigh in relief.
”What’re you sighin’ for?”
”Oh, just… I was worried. If we couldn’t buy the materials, I’d have to wake the City Mayor, and she’s probably still asleep. This saves me the trouble.”
”Ahh, so you didn’t get a permit from her. No wonder no one knew what’s goin’ on.”
”Yeah, looks like both of us slipped up. Guess exhaustion’ll do that.”
”Well, one nearly died and the other runs the whole city. I reckon a mistake or two’s forgivable.”
The receptionist, who’d been quietly watching us, finally spoke up—her face had gone pale.
”Um, Merchant Guildmaster… who is this gentleman?”
”Oh, him? This here’s Tatara Julon. He’s the next Chief Crafter. Still a student for now, so he can’t take the post yet, but he’s the best crafter in town.”
The receptionist’s blood drained even further at that. I couldn’t blame her—no one expects a student to be the next Chief.
”M-my deepest apologies!”
”Oh, don’t worry about it. I didn’t have any papers on me either.”
That one was on me and the Mayor, really. Even if the guildmaster knew, it didn’t mean the message had reached the staff below. And judging by the letter she’d sent earlier, she hadn’t told anyone who’d actually be handling the job.
”Well then, Guildmaster, about the materials—”
”Yeah, they’re ready. Let’s head out.”
”…Wait—head out?”
Was he… coming too?
”I already went to the site yesterday to check the damage and make estimates,” he said, straightening his coat. “Figured I’d tag along. As Guildmaster, I can’t have folks wasting resources.”
I couldn’t help but think, this guy really takes responsibility seriously.
”Then let’s get moving,” I said. “If I’m fixing it in half a day, sooner’s better.”
”Right. Folks lost their homes—they deserve one to go back to.”
We traded a few quick words, then set out together. Before leaving, he told the receptionist to inform anyone who came by that he was out. Watching that, I realized she wasn’t just a receptionist—she was his secretary.
”Sorry about that, Tatara-han,” he said as we walked. “That girl’s just too dedicated sometimes.”
”Oh, I’m not angry. Really.”
”…You sure you ain’t mad?”
It took me a second to realize he meant the secretary. I shook my head. Honestly, I wasn’t angry—though I was irritated at the delay.
”To be honest, I did get a little frustrated,” I admitted. “I just wanted to start rebuilding already.”
”Well, can’t blame you there. But you didn’t yell or throw a fit—you thought of going to the Mayor instead. That’s somethin’.”
”The mistake was ours to begin with.”
And it was—mine and the defense chief’s, in more ways than one.
”Speakin’ of which,” he said, lowering his voice, “you heard about the Defense Chief?”
”…You mean the rumor that he invited the Angels?”
He nodded. Apparently, every leader in the city already knew.
”I’m sure he had his reasons,” the guildmaster went on, “but sayin’ it there, in front of everyone—that was a mistake. The Defense Chief’s like the Chief Crafter—one of the city’s symbols, chosen for strength above all. When a man like that says he’s to blame, of course people’ll turn on him.”
He wasn’t condemning the act itself, I realized—but the timing.
”You’re saying you blame him for what he said in public?” I asked.
”Sure, callin’ them here caused all this mess, so it ain’t like he’s blameless. But,” he added, “I don’t think you can condemn a man without knowin’ why he did it. That’s just my take. But that Defense Chief? Ain’t the type to summon somethin’ that crazy without a damn good reason.”
Hearing the merchant guildmaster speak so openly, I hesitated, then made the choice to tell him the truth—at least, the parts that mattered. I left Tatia’s name and heritage vague, but explained enough: that to have the half-Angel child accepted by this city, we’d needed to pretend she bore a divine blessing. That I’d had no connections to make that happen, so the Defense Chief had called upon an Angel to help. That our request had been ignored, leading to that… catastrophic “unofficial entry.”
”…So it really was the Defense Chief’s fault then,” he said quietly.
”No. I was the one who asked for help.”
”Nah, that’s not how I see it. From what I’m hearin’, you talked with the City Mayor and even the Saint, right? And the one who decided to act was the Defense Chief. He’s the one who brought that thing here. You didn’t even know who he was inviting, let alone what would happen. You can’t take the blame for that, Tatara-han. You were the one who fought, got hurt, and still stopped it. That makes you the hero here, plain and simple.”
His words left me stunned. The City Mayor had said something similar—but hearing it again, from someone outside that circle, hit differently.
”Also, you’ve been thinkin’ about givin’ out donations, haven’t you?”
”Wait—how did you know that?”
”Could tell just by lookin’ at you. You’re sufferin’, Tatara-han. You fought and got wounded, and even now you mourn the ones you couldn’t save. But listen—you’re the one who should be receiving help. Don’t turn that down. Even if you don’t want the money, take it first, then pass it to someone worse off.”
I blinked. Take it first… then give it forward. That made sense somehow.
”The work you’re doin’ now, this reconstruction—that’s already a form of atonement and aid,” he said, smiling. “So, from now on, no more guilt, alright?”
”Ugh… got it. I’ll be careful.”
”That’s better. Good boy.”
There was a teasing warmth in his grin that made me laugh despite myself. And like that, we reached the commercial district.
The early morning light revealed the wreckage clearly. Seeing it again made my chest ache.
”…It’s worse than I remembered,” he murmured.
”Yeah. It’s… painful to look at.”
Families had died here. That thought pressed tight against my ribs. I bowed my head, closed my eyes for a minute, and silently prayed that the dead might find peace. For a brief moment, I felt a gentle touch on my head—no one was there when I opened my eyes, but somehow I knew: they were at rest.
”Let’s get started,” I said softly. “First, we clear the rubble.”
”There’s a lot of it. You sure you’re good?”
”Yeah. I came prepared for that.”
”…Prepared how, exactly?”
In answer, I pulled a handful of magic stones from my inventory—and summoned my Golems. One after another, they emerged behind their leader, lining up with mechanical precision. The guildmaster’s jaw went slack as the last of them took position.
”…You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me,” he muttered, laughing dryly.
”Alright, everyone,” I called. “We’re restoring this square.”
’Taah!’
”Start with debris removal. There’s all kinds, big and small—if one piece is too heavy, don’t go alone. Rely on your companions.”
’Taah!’
”Sort the rubble by material and importance once cleared. Understood?”
’Taah!’
”Then begin work. Stay safe out there!”
’Raaah!!’
With an energetic chorus, the Golems scattered in all directions. The guildmaster turned toward me, eyes wide.
”Tatara-han… you made these?”
”Yep. Yesterday.”
”Yesterday!?”
His voice cracked so hard I almost laughed.
”I don’t know if anyone else can do it,” I said, “but I could.”
”…I got nothin’. I’m too shocked to even think.”
I smiled and left him to recover while I joined the work. The smaller Golems were already clearing the stalls, so I focused on the collapsed houses. Broken furniture, cherished keepsakes—pieces of people’s lives. A child’s carved growth-mark frame. All of it, I sorted gently, as if touching memories themselves.
After about an hour, I’d cleared and categorized debris from two houses. The smaller Golems had nearly finished too—one was even sorting sauces and ingredients from an intact food stall. Smarter than I’d expected.
Then one Golem approached the guildmaster, holding a bundle of something in its arms.
”Taah.”
”Hm? What’s this, little one?”
”Taah!”
The Golem extended its hands. Inside were drawings—crude, colorful ones made by a child—and trinkets, hairpins, small treasures. I realized what they were: mementos. The Golems had gathered the belongings of the dead and were giving them to the guildmaster for safekeeping.
”Taah!”
”…Yeah,” the guildmaster said softly. “I understand. I’ll make sure these reach their families, I promise.”
”Raaah!!”
The Golem gave a happy cry and returned to work. The guildmaster clutched the items to his chest before carefully storing them away.
”…Thank you, Tatara-han.”
”Huh? For what?”
”For makin’ such kind little ones.”
I hadn’t done anything special, really. Their gentleness came from somewhere beyond my intent.
”Tatara-han,” he said after a moment, “when the clearing’s done, let me know. I’ve got the materials and the blueprints for the houses that were lost.”
”Got it. In that case, please get two sets ready—we’ve just finished clearing two plots.”
”That fast!?”
His outburst hit like lightning. But honestly, even sorting took time—I had been taking it slow.
When I led him to the cleared foundations, he stopped dead, staring at the neat outlines. Only the base structures remained. Once he recovered, he pulled out the materials—bricks and concrete.
I crushed Mana Stones and mixed them in to create magic-conductive concrete, summoning another group of Golems to help. Some held beams in place, others laid bricks or fixed them using ‘Crafting.’ The coordination boosted efficiency beyond expectation. Maybe because I’d made them, they anticipated my movements, setting up tasks before I even asked.
By the end, we’d rebuilt one house in just two hours.
”…Damn. My estimate was off,” I muttered.
”Huh? What kinda off, Tatara-han?”
”I said it’d take half a day. At this rate, we’ll be done in six hours.”
The Golems’ speed amazed me. Watching them reminded me of the time I’d built a cypress bath with the craftsmen from Hizuru—nostalgic, almost fun.
”…Tatara-han,” the guildmaster said, half-joking, “ever thought about startin’ a construction company with me?”
”I’m happy with my shop, thanks. But if there’s ever a government project, call me—I’ll help.”
He sighed. “Hopeless. Every time I think of makin’ you rich, you go and ruin it with that earnestness of yours.”
Honestly, after the chaos in Hizuru, I’d had my fill of chasing profit. From here on, my work would be for passion’s sake—and that was enough.
”By the way,” the guildmaster said, brushing dust off his coat, “I been meanin’ to ask—what’s this beat-up bit of wood with all the marks on it?”
”It’s probably a child’s growth chart,” I explained. “Parents carve a line each time the kid gets taller.”
”…I see,” he murmured, tracing the shallow cuts with his fingers. “You made sure to put it back where it was, huh.”
He stroked the scarred wood gently, eyes distant. I hoped the family who’d lived here had survived—but if they hadn’t, maybe restoring even one piece of their memories meant something.
Around us, the Golems kept working, rebuilding the market stalls one by one. Some were even repairing the cracked paving stones of the plaza. The place was starting to look whole again.
”…This might stir up some trouble with the Internal Affairs Chief,” the guildmaster said.
”Huh? Why?”
”City planning’s her turf. Us merchants fixin’ it up on our own? That’s a fast track to an angry letter.”
”Oh—sorry.”
He waved it off with a grin. “Don’t be. If it makes people smile, I’ll take the scolding myself.”
I couldn’t help thinking—how does someone this easygoing survive in business?
”Still,” he said, gesturing toward the stalls, “look at that. The layout’s almost the same as before the attack. Some folks are gone, sure, but others are rebuilding. That sight right there—that’s proof people can move forward.”
There was a quiet sadness in his voice. Maybe because he’d known the ten people who’d died here. As guildmaster, he’d approved every one of their stalls. Maybe that made the loss heavier for him.
When I turned back to work, I decided it was better to rebuild the walls from scratch than patch the cracks. I broke them down completely, then mixed Mana Stones into new material and used Crafting to reconstruct. The Golems held the frames steady while I sealed the joins, checking with Appraisal until there wasn’t a single gap. Two houses done.
The guildmaster gave me a look like I’d just rewritten the laws of physics, but since it worked, I called it a win. Afterward, I even cleaned the interiors as finishing touches.
The eight windows were practically an assembly line. Aluminum frames from my previous world had poor insulation, and I couldn’t recreate resin ones, so I used Orc bone material instead. Coated with Mana-infused preservative, the result was strong, insulated, and tougher than most metal armor.
By the time the stalls were repaired and only needed painting, five and a half hours had passed—half an hour faster than my already shortened estimate.
”I guess I should make the furniture too, huh?” I mused.
”No need,” the guildmaster said. “Our reconstruction fund’ll cover that.”
”You sure?”
”Sure am. Let us show off a little too.”
He smiled—warmly, sincerely—and somehow it still looked suspicious. How did a man this good-hearted manage to look like he was always running a scam?
”Tatara-han,” he said, straightening up, “go report to the City Mayor. I’ll talk to the evacuees in the temporary housing.”
”Got it. I’m counting on you.”
”Leave it to me!”
He thrust his hand out enthusiastically. I shook it, and he beamed, pumping our hands up and down before we parted ways.
I began storing the Golems back into my inventory, but the leader refused to go, toddling along beside me instead. Its tiny footsteps made a soft tap-tap-tap sound that was far too cute for a creature made of stone. Every so often, it’d fall behind, stop, and scurry to catch up again.
People passing by stared and whispered. Some laughed, others called it adorable—adorable! Even though it looked like a miniature version of me.
At Central Administration, I went straight to the reception desk and requested an audience with the City Mayor. The clerk recognized me immediately and agreed without delay—though her eyes were fixed on the Golem at my side.
”Julon. You’ve kept me—wait. What’s that?”
Calmys-san had come to escort me, her gaze locked on my companion.
”Ah. This is a Golem I made yesterday to help with reconstruction.”
”Taah!”
”…It talked!?”
Both Calmys-san and the receptionist jumped in unison.
”For some reason, they’ve been able to speak since I made them,” I explained. “Though they can only say ‘ta’ and ‘ra.’”
”Raaah!”
Calmys-san blinked. “…Of course. Everything you make has to be strange, doesn’t it.”
Her smile twitched in that way that meant she’d given up understanding me entirely.
”…Wait,” she said suddenly. “Did you say they?”
”Ah. Right.”
To clarify, I opened my inventory and summoned three smaller Golems. They toddled out in perfect unison, and Calmys-san instinctively stepped back.
”This big one’s the leader,” I said. “It commands the other ninety-nine. Together, they assist me.”
”…You realize that’s an absurd number, right?”
One hundred Golems in total. By the time I’d finished crafting them, my Golem Crafting skill had jumped to rank III. It reminded me of how Alchemy had hit rank V the instant I’d created the Alchemist’s Egg.
We continued to the Mayor’s office. Calmys-san knocked and ushered me inside. Behind her desk, the City Mayor sat buried under piles of documents, stamping and signing without pause.
”Excuse me,” I said.
”Oh, Tatara. What did you do this time?” she said without looking up.
…Ouch. That was the greeting now?
Her eyes, of course, drifted to the Golem beside me.
”Not trouble, actually,” I said. “A report. Two collapsed houses, two with damaged walls, eight with broken windows, twelve ruined stalls—all repaired.”
”…Didn’t you say it’d take half a day?”
”It would’ve, but I built these Golems to help. They were more efficient than expected—cut the time in half.”
The Mayor slowly turned toward the Golem, pinched the bridge of her nose, and looked skyward.
”…Why do your Golems have the Crafting skill?”
”I have no idea.”
Before I could say more, one of the bird-shaped Golems fluttered in, carrying a letter in its beak. Mouth wide open, like it was proud of itself. Honestly, they were too expressive for constructs.
Meanwhile, several of the smaller ones had swarmed the Mayor’s desk. I thought they were just curious—but no. They were sorting the documents: finished ones stacked neatly, the rest organized by deadline and priority. Others began cleaning the office or brewing tea for her.
”…How,” I muttered, “how are they doing all that without being told?”
The Mayor just stared.
”…Tatara,” she said at last, “mind giving me a few of these?”
”They’d stop working. Only the leader can recharge their Mana.”
One of the smaller Golems finished its task and toddled over to the leader, taking its hand. A faint glow passed between them—the leader transferring Mana—and then the little one disappeared neatly back into my inventory. …Wait. When did they learn to open my inventory on their own?
Before I could question that mystery, another bird-shaped Golem fluttered in through the window. It had a letter tied to its leg. The City Mayor untied it, scanned the contents, and sighed.
”Confirmation from the merchant guildmaster,” she said. “Reconstruction complete. He listed you as the sole worker, so yes, looks like you really did everything yourself.”
”Yeah. The guildmaster provided all the materials. I should probably send him a thank-you letter, right?”
”No need. You shook hands, didn’t you?”
”…How did you know that?”
”The letter assumes you’re still nearby. Says that if you bring up gratitude, I should tell you it’s not necessary.”
…The man wrote and sent this during our walk back? Does he even sleep?
”In any case,” she continued, “your compensation and reparations end here. You rebuilt homes and got people back under their roofs in one day. That’s enough. I’m not letting you push any further.”
”…Understood.”
If I ended up getting any payment for this, I’d probably just donate it. Hopefully she couldn’t read that thought from my face.
”Now,” I said, “there’s something I wanted to ask, Mayor.”
”Oh?”
”That Angel race we captured—the one still sealed away. What’s going to happen to it?”
The Mayor closed her eyes for a moment before answering.
”…Honestly, the Foreign Affairs Chief is working hard on it, but we’re getting nowhere. We might only manage to squeeze some reparations out of them, and that’s being optimistic.”
”I see…”
”She’s even threatened to suspend all patent usage linked to your inventions, but negotiations haven’t budged. I caught her once, punching a wall out of frustration.”
That smug, sharp-tongued woman? Working herself up like that? Then again, the Mayor wouldn’t have chosen her if she weren’t capable.
”Anyway, Tatara,” the Mayor said, shuffling papers, “about yesterday’s request.”
”The magic marker and the portable teleportation gate? I haven’t started yet.”
”Good. You’ll need this.”
She handed over a set of documents. The Imperial spell formula for their teleportation system—dense, complex, and old-fashioned.
”I’d like at least one finished, preferably five, before the city festival,” she said.
”Understood.”
I tucked the documents into my inventory. The framework for the gates was already done; I just needed to encode the spell formula.
But if the Foreign Affairs Chief’s efforts failed… what would the Mayor do next?
”One more thing,” she added. “This one’s a bit unreasonable.”
”…That sounds ominous. What is it?”
”Calmys’s weapon. Make her the best thing you can.”
”—Huh!?” Calmys and I blurted in unison.
”That depends on what you mean by ‘best,’” I said. “Are we talking a conceptual weapon made with full blacksmithing enhancement, or—”
”No, not that kind,” the Mayor cut in. “I mean a magic sword. The one she uses now—can you rebuild it with your newer techniques?”
”Well, the materials are the hard part. You’re asking for a reforged version using Sublimated Mithril and Sublimated Orichalcum, right?”
I could manage the Mithril easily enough; I had fragments from the Creation Goddess’s core. But Orichalcum—and especially an Angel race Soul Core for the weapon’s core system—were in short supply.
”…Calmys,” the Mayor turned, “you’ve got some Orichalcum left, don’t you?”
”Yes—five ingots, I believe.”
”And you, Tatara? Enough Mithril?”
”Plenty. But without a Soul Core from an Angel, the sword won’t function properly.”
”Then this will do, won’t it?”
From her inventory, the Mayor produced a Soul Core radiating dense light. My breath caught. The amount of Mana sealed inside it was staggering.
”This belonged to an Angel race I once watched over in their final moments,” she said. “Fifth-rank. Same class as the one that rampaged recently.”
”…Why were you even present for the death of a fifth-rank Angel?”
Angels dying in human care were nearly unheard of. Even in old tales, it only happened in bad endings—when an Angel left their core as a keepsake for someone they trusted.
”She was… unusual,” the Mayor said softly. “Curious about human life and Crafting. She fought a wicked dragon and took it down with her. Came to me afterward, to say thanks—and left this behind.”
A dragon strong enough to trade blows with a fifth-rank Angel. That was no small feat.
”I kept it as a memento,” the Mayor went on, “but better to see it used than wasted.”
”That’s… a bold decision.”
”Call it pragmatic. Payment will have to wait—I’m swamped.”
”No need. Let’s call it a favor.”
She gave a crooked smile. “…You owing me would be terrifying enough, thanks.”
So much for generosity. Still, her tone carried something like trust.
”Julon,” Calmys said, “I’ve got some Mithril stored away. Take it. It’s not much, but it’ll help.”
I accepted the bundle—ten ingots, each about a kilogram. Between that and what I had, it’d be plenty.
”So, these three projects—the sword, the marker, and the teleportation gate,” the Mayor said. “You can at least finish the sword by tomorrow?”
”The other two I can form, but not test. Is that acceptable?”
”That’s fine. Borrow Dahlia for the testing. She can handle safe field experiments.”
”I’ll ask her. If she agrees, I’ll send her here in the morning.”
”Good. I’ll expect her.”
A new sword for Calmys, a teleportation gate, and the marker—plus Dahlia’s airship Tritereia still needed maintenance, and the Fireworks system needed a complete overhaul. My schedule was getting ridiculous.
”Calmys,” I asked, “how do you want the sword tuned?”
”I can’t leave my post as the Mayor’s guard, so I’ll handle the output calibration here—same as we did with Fiero.”
”Got it. I’ll keep the trigger phrases as ‘Unsheathe,’ ‘Expand,’ and ‘Release.’”
”That’ll do.”
We discussed a few specifications, then I decided I’d start work early. Hopefully I wouldn’t run into Ethelena and the others—they were still scouring the city looking for Tatia.
After saying my goodbyes, I left the office. Halfway home, I ran into a familiar face—or rather, the person I was supposed to deliver a certain item to today.
”Oh! Shopkeeper!”
”Well, if it isn’t the next Chief Crafter. Business concluded already?”
”Yes,” I said with a small nod. “I just finished the reconstruction of the commercial district where the attack happened yesterday.”
”…You finished the reconstruction?”
Both the wealthy patron and the Head of Judiciary, who had come running when they saw me, looked stunned. They’d apparently seen the note on my shop’s shutter but hadn’t realized what I’d been out doing. Judging by the Head of Judiciary’s face, he still hadn’t been properly briefed on the incident.
”You’ve both heard about the Angel race descending in the district yesterday, right? There were casualties.”
”Yes,” said the patron. “When I returned from the exploration site, everyone was talking about it.”
”I haven’t been given full details,” added the Head of Judiciary. “It wasn’t considered under my department’s jurisdiction. Though I did hear it’ll be discussed at the next city council meeting.”
So the Judiciary wasn’t told about the Defense Chief’s blunder. Or maybe he was told but was keeping it vague for the patron’s sake.
”In any case,” I continued, “I repaired the structural damage—mainly the houses.”
”I see,” the patron nodded.
”I’d heard the destruction was considerable,” said the Head of Judiciary. “It’s already finished?”
”Yes. The Mayor asked me to handle it yesterday. I estimated half a day, but in the end it took about six hours.”
”Six hours?”
”That’s fast?”
”Actually,” I corrected, “that’s about right. Two collapsed houses, two with wall damage, eight with broken windows, and twelve stalls rebuilt—it takes time.”
”…No, that’s definitely too fast.”
Yeah, that reaction made sense. Even I thought it was fast.
”Just debris removal, perhaps?”
”No, full rebuilds.”
”Then surely you had a team of Crafters helping?”
”Just me.”
Both men blinked, then spoke in perfect unison. “…That makes no sense.”
Fair. Time for the reveal. I stepped aside, motioning for the Golem that had been hiding behind me. The patron and the Head of Judiciary both jumped.
”I made these yesterday,” I explained. “With them handling the heavy lifting, debris clearing, and stall rebuilding, the work went quickly.”
”That’s… a Golem, isn’t it?”
”Yep. My custom design.”
For some reason, the words ‘my custom design’ immediately calmed them down—as if that alone explained everything. Maybe it did.
”But it looks just like you,” said the patron, squinting. “It’s… cute, actually.”
”It just came out that way during crafting,” I said. “Also, it talks.”
”It talks?”
”Taah!”
”It talked!?”
Their shocked expressions were priceless. Then, just like everyone else, they shrugged it off as “Well, it’s Tatara’s work.”
”But good timing,” I said.
”Oh?” said the Head of Judiciary. “Why’s that?”
”I can finally deliver your armor sets.”
At that, his posture straightened. I pulled a hanger from my inventory—then, with a whir of metal joints, the hanger extended its arms, clamping onto a full set of armor.
”Your commissioned Demonsteel full-plate armor and its hanger,” I announced.
The Head of Judiciary’s eyes lit up like a child’s.
”Magnificent craftsmanship!”
”Whoa—that’s awesome!” the patron blurted, forgetting his refined speech entirely.
”I did make one change,” I said. “To improve mobility, I reduced the weight by half. The armor’s physical defense is only ten points lower.”
”…Chief Crafter,” the Head of Judiciary said slowly, “that is a mild breach of contract. What happened to the removed twenty kilos of steel and Mana Stones?”
”Oh, those? Here.”
I produced a Demonsteel longsword, shield, and greatsword. Their jaws dropped.
”I wasn’t sure what weapon type you preferred,” I said, “but judging by your stance, I assumed classic knight swordsmanship—so I prepared a sword and shield set. And for your son, a greatsword—wide enough to double as a shield if needed.”
As they admired the pieces, I drew out the second armor set—for the patron’s son. Lacking another hanger, I held it up myself. The patron’s eyes went wide.
”This one’s a full Demonsteel plate as well,” I explained. “It’s heavier, so movement will be slower—tell him to be careful.”
”Y-Yes, of course!”
He quickly stored the armor and sword in his inventory. I was glad to finish the handoff, since I still had several projects waiting back at the workshop.
”…You’ve gone beyond the contract again,” the Head of Judiciary remarked.
”All within the given materials and budget. If you dislike it, I can issue a refund.”
In truth, that had been my plan.
”Legally speaking, it’s a breach,” he said. “However… I’m satisfied. So I’ll refrain from filing a complaint.”
”That’s—”
”And no, I won’t let you off easy just because you’re angling for a refund, next Chief Crafter.”
…Yeah. Couldn’t outmaneuver him.
”Well then,” he said, clearing his throat, “I acknowledge receipt of the goods.”
”Oh—wait! I forgot something.”
Right, the bonus piece. I’d made it using leftover materials, but it wasn’t armor, so it slipped my mind.
From my inventory, I took out a miniature—one-sixth scale—replica of the armor and hanger, and handed it to him. The Head of Judiciary froze.
”I, uh… had some leftover Demonsteel, so I made this as a side project for testing special functions.”
He said nothing.
”Please include it when judging the contract’s outcome.”
Still silence.
”Um… Head of Judiciary?”
He took the miniature from me with trembling hands. It was heavier than it looked, but he examined it intently from every angle.
”It’s called a telepathic remote armor,” I explained. “I embedded a telepathy spell into the hanger, and a resonance spell into the armor itself.”
”…”
”By channeling Mana into the hanger and concentrating, it moves like this—”
”…”
I demonstrated. The hanger’s arms shifted, lifting the miniature armor off its stand. It took a few steps, then posed right in front of him.
He didn’t move. Didn’t blink.
”If you don’t like it, I’ll refund—”
Before I could finish, he snatched the miniature back, slid it into his inventory, and stepped forward, eyes blazing.
”Chief Crafter… how much for that!?”
”Eek! You already paid!”
”Father, please! Calm down!”
The patron’s son held him back as the Head of Judiciary, usually so composed, looked ready to buy my entire workshop on the spot.
Notes:
• Calmys – War God’s knight, Mayor’s guard chief, whip-master hiding as a swordswoman; sharp tongue, big-sister vibe to Tatara, grants him and Ethelena church protection.
• Dahlia – The automaton.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
Thanks for reading.
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