126: You know, might as well ask for the future, right?

Not just Master Jabil, but the orphans have started helping out with the production guild, and we’ve finally got a little breathing room.

So today, I’m paying Kyle a visit—something I haven’t done in ages.

“Ah! Craft Brother!”

As soon as I stepped into the Marquis’s office, Kyle shot up from behind a mountain of paperwork, like he’d been sprung.

What kind of workload is that.

“Hey. Still looks rough, huh.”

“Not at all. The kingdom sent over some excellent clerks, and the work’s actually decreased.”

“Yeah, well, doesn’t look like it.”

The amount of work dumped on Kyle since he was appointed lord is enormous.

Back when he first got the title, the office was buried under paperwork—now it’s just a mountain on his desk.

Kyle’s still talking to me while his hand never stops, and the stack of paperwork is vanishing like smoke.

Kyle’s just too damn good at this.

“Maybe take a breather?”

“…Yeah. Just for a bit.”

Finally, Kyle sets the pen down and shifts to the sofa.

The maid brings tea right away—but Maina and Persia show up with her, somehow.

Persia glances at Kyle and lets out a small, relieved sigh.

He must’ve been going nonstop.

In the current Golden Dawn, everyone in a position of power’s always swamped. Can’t really blame him. But if he keeps this up, he’ll burn out.

I’m here now. He’ll rest a little. I’ll make sure to drop by more often.

Maina casually settles onto my lap, like it’s nothing.

Reminds me of the orphanage days—back when I used to watch over the little ones.

She purrs, content, as I scratch her head.

Sipping tea, I turn to Kyle.

“So, about that Coming-of-Age Ceremony—how’s it coming? You ready?”

“No, not yet. Actually, I was just about to ask you something.”

“Ask?”

“Yes. I heard Craft-sama got the mage’s sigil carved during his Coming-of-Age Ceremony. Could you tell me why?”

Asking about the Coming-of-Age Ceremony, but only about the sigil?

Well, sure. The sigil’s given then.

“Back when I was a kid in the orphanage, they always said I had strong magic. Before the sigil’s carved, and before training starts—kids with raw power just leak it out. Even a decent mage can feel that. The orphanage was attached to the church, right? Some mages who came by from the church… they’d tell me, ‘You’ve got real power.’”

I’d wanted to be an adventurer since I could think straight. All I ever thought about was becoming a mage.

“The Coming-of-Age Ceremony only lets you engrave a crest once. And since you have to declare which crest you want yourself, I just asked for a mage’s crest without thinking.”

“Yes. If you have the aptitude, the crest appears. If not, you don’t get it.”

“Yeah. So when it actually showed up, I was over the moon.”

Never thought I’d end up with a crest that didn’t match me at all.

“Parents usually have the crest, so if they do, most kids go with that. If not, they usually pick a crest related to their trade. A blacksmith’s son might ask for the blacksmith’s crest.”

“Yes.”

But if they’re asking me this basic stuff… they’re not from the nobility, are they?

"Among noble families and magic lineages, we check aptitude in advance. The more prestigious the family, the more likely it is that heirs inherit their parents' crest—so it’s not exactly meaningful."

"Ah, I see."

Seals are heavily influenced by bloodline, so it’s only natural. What if a parent’s seal differs from the other’s? Maybe I’ll ask the instructor next time.

...Could it be that my parents were alchemists?

"Brother?"

Did I look downcast? I wave it off with a smile at Kyle.

"So? What about the seal?"

"Yes. I was wondering if it might be possible to check the seal aptitude of all adults who’ve come of age."

"What?"

Only a Seal Officer can judge seal aptitude. There aren’t many Seal Officers, so the tests should be expensive.

Back when I was around, I got the price knocked down to nothing just for finding that unknown sigil—Dusk Alchemist—so I don’t know the exact amount, but it wasn’t something you could just toss around.

“…Any budget?”

“Yeah. Goldendown’s booming.”

From my point of view, it’s not just the overpriced mass-produced stamina potions—no, not just that—plus Craft wheat, fine horses, lumber, and even rare materials scavenged from dangerous frontiers by capable adventurers. All that’s keeping the budget solid.

…Anyway, can’t we just change the name “Craft wheat”? Van’s the one who officially approved it, so there’s nothing we can do. Tch.

“Is there anywhere that’s already tested everyone in advance?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard there’s more to it than just the cost. Don’t know what it is, though.”

“Hm.”

Problem?

What is it, I wonder?

"Could you listen with me to the Seal Officer who’s coming to this town soon? I’d like to hear what the issue is. If we can figure it out, I’d be grateful if you’d help resolve it for my brother."

"Ah, of course."

I say it firmly, and Kyle grins like he’s just won something.

◆

A few days later, I get word the Seal Officer has arrived. I head straight to Kyle’s mansion—and then I’m stunned.

There are two people in the reception room. One’s an older man, calm and composed. The other’s a kid, rigid with nerves.

"You’re—!"

I recognize the older man. That’s right—the Seal Officer who rewrote my mark.

"Hm? Oh, you! Still alive, I see?"

"Yeah! Thanks to you, I’ve lived a full life!"

"Good to hear."

"Let me thank you properly."

I could pay a proper fee if you like, but that’d be insulting.

"Just did my duty as a Seal Officer. No need for thanks."

Still, when I bowed deeply, the Seal Officer nodded with a pleased smile.

"I’m Craft. Craft Walken. Nice to meet you."

"Genelis Ing. I’ll be staying in this town for now, so the pleasure’s all mine."

"You’re not heading back after the festival?"

The Seal Officer’s attendants—still as confusing as ever—are few in number, so most of them live in the capital. After the Coming-of-Age Ceremony, it’s usual to return there.

"Ah. You teach advanced courses at Kyle Academy, don’t you? Planning to send my grandson there."

"Ah, I see."

Genelis’s income could easily afford a top-tier tutor, so he must have something else in mind.

"My grandson Faydral In. Here, say hello."

Genelis gave Faydral a light tap on the head.

The boy, who had been frozen in place, scowled and stood up.

About the same age as Ed or Maina?

"...Faydral. Nice to meet you."

He glared up with obvious irritation.

Did I do something?

"Hey! What’s with that attitude!?"

Genelis snapped, and Faydral immediately shot back.

"Seriously! Why do I have to study in some backwater like this!? I’m a city kid! There’s nothing a country bumpkin like you could teach me!"

"Faydral!"

Ah. Makes sense. A kid raised in the capital would probably feel that way.

But the idea that your own town’s the best? That’s not just a city kid’s delusion, you know.

"Hey, Faydral. You seen the town’s look before coming here? Really think it’s just some backwater?"

This Golden Dune isn’t just a bunch of high-rise buildings made of alchemically hardened stone. Every road’s paved too. Not some second-rate city by any stretch.

"Hmph. Just happened to be born a dusk alchemist. His so-called building material’s just that good. Already using it in the capital. We’ll pass them soon enough."

Oh?

Faydral’s not entirely wrong, is he?

Guess he’s got brains.

" heard the alchemist himself had a mismatched sigil carved on him—until Grandpa checked it! Can you imagine the idiot’s face?"

Yes! That’s exactly the idiot face!