Gratitude (1)
The veteran soldier boarded the boat leaving the island, having shamelessly acted friendly and even scored some snacks for his trouble. Patrick, who had been waving him off with a kind smile from afar, turned away with a sigh of relief once the figure on the deck shrank to a mere dot. ‘I’m never going back to being a corporate slave.’ He refused to return to those days of endless overwork. A life without a boss was far too peaceful to give up.
“Excuse me, Patrick.”
“Huh?”
Just as he was reaffirming his resolve, Josh held out a cup. “Could you chill this as well?”
“Ice!”
Crackle—
Patrick froze the glass of water Josh offered and handed it back with a confident grin. “Try it.”
“······.”
Instead of drinking, Josh simply stared back and forth between the glass and Patrick’s face, several times over.
“What? Still looks new to you?”
Patrick’s shameless remark suggested he had always been confident about his looks, but Josh didn’t play along. “Is this really ice magic?”
“You saw it yourself. Why ask? First time seeing it? Curious? Want me to do it again?”
Ever generous when it cost him nothing, Patrick raised a finger, ready to cast once more.
“N-no, that’s not it······. It just seems quite different from the ice magic I know.”
“Different?”
Is he looking down on me because I’m a low-circle mage? Patrick shot Josh a glare, bristling with insecurity, but the other man’s expression made it clear he wasn’t teasing.
“It seems rather powerful, doesn’t it?”
“Huh?”
“Ice magic only lowers the temperature slightly. I was under the impression it couldn’t freeze a glass the way you just did. Of course, I’m no mage, so I could be mistaken······.”
Josh added, “There was a mage who came to the tailoring shop I used to work at. He cast ice magic because the store was too warm.”
“Maybe he adjusted the power?”
Patrick didn’t find anything strange about it.
“But······.”
“Class is about to start. It’s your first lesson today. Plenty of villagers are interested—do you really have time to stand around? Shouldn’t you be preparing?”
“Ah, right! C-class!”
Josh still looked unconvinced and tried to say more, but Patrick waved him off, clearly annoyed. The tailor hurried toward the classroom, and Patrick watched him go before sinking into thought. He had brushed it off, yet something did feel off.
“······Ice.”
Crackle—!
Once he confirmed no one was around, Patrick chanted the spell in a low voice. Frost instantly coated a pebble by his foot. He hadn’t deliberately strengthened the spell.
‘Hiss—’
A strange certainty settled in his chest: his ice magic was indeed far stronger than Josh had described.
‘The high-ranking mages at the tower supposedly had to turn to black magic because magic itself was weakening?’
Then why did his own spells keep growing stronger? No, they were growing stronger. When he first arrived on the island, all he could manage was cooling lukewarm water in a cup by a few degrees.
‘Fire magic is the same.’
Back in spring, Fire had been little more than a replacement for a flint. But now?
“······Fire!”
Whoosh!
A fist-sized flame bloomed instantly above his palm.
“They say playing with fire at night makes you wet the bed.”
A small head popped up beside him, and the flame dissolved into the air.
“Tsk. What are you doing here?”
“My dad says the new liquor jar he made is being opened today. He asked me to bring the teacher.”
“Oh? That’s today? Let’s go! Of course we’re going!”
At Ben’s words, Patrick snapped back to his usual self. ‘Ah, whatever. Everyone else is getting stronger—better than being the only one left behind.’
He decided to shelve the question for now.
***
“These are the new fruit wines we just made, Teacher. I heard the nobles like them, so I gave it a try······. I’d appreciate your honest opinion.”
When they arrived at the brewery run by Ben’s father, the village’s resident drinkers had already gathered.
“Fruit wine? Like wine?”
“Ah, actual wine isn’t ready yet. We’ll need another month or two before the grapes are ready.”
“Then this······?”
“Apricot, plum, and cherry fruit wines. They’re stronger than you’d expect, so please be careful. Haha!”
“Ooh!”
“We used a fermentation agent to speed things up, so there’s a slight bitterness.”
The fermentation agent was the reason alcohol was so cheap around here. Patrick had no idea what it was made from, but rumor had it the stuff involved some kind of magical processing. It drastically shortened the time needed for aging or fermenting food—though, unfortunately, it didn’t work on living creatures.
‘If I ever get cabbage and chili powder, I should try it for making kimchi.’
Patrick mulled over a dream that might never come true.
“Still, if the reaction is good, I’m thinking of letting the rest ferment naturally and selling them at a higher price.”
Ben’s father, who had fully embraced the merchant’s mindset, finished his explanation. The villagers smacked their lips in anticipation, eyes fixed on the fragrant liquor on the table.
Gulp.
Patrick was no different. High-proof liquor made from sweet fruits like apricot, plum, and cherry.
‘Must be like schnapps.’
Among Europe’s traditional fruit spirits was schnapps—sweet fruit base, yet packing nearly 40% alcohol. He had learned about it during his days frequenting cocktail bars after growing tired of soju during company dinners. Drinking it straight, though, was a first even for him.
‘But the snacks are pretty boring. Tch.’
He didn’t expect meat, but cheese would have been nice. Unfortunately, the table only offered olives and pickled cabbage.
His disappointment vanished the moment he tossed back the sweet yet potent schnapps and followed it with a bite of pickled cabbage. The flavors and aromas exploded on his tongue.
“······Oh!”
Patrick’s eyes widened. Unable to contain their curiosity, the villagers emptied their own glasses. Whistle—! Cheers and whistles erupted from every direction.
“Congratulations. The new liquor is a success.”
“Haha, thank you!”
Ben’s parents’ eyes instantly reddened at the villagers’ reactions. They didn’t cry on such a happy day, but the bloodshot whites of their eyes seemed to carry the weight of all their past hardships.
“······It’s all thanks to you, Teacher.”
“Huh? Me? Really?”
Patrick, who had been happily sampling every variety in preparation for getting thoroughly drunk, startled at the sudden gratitude and grew wary.
“Until now, even if we wanted to try making a new liquor, we couldn’t risk it. After all······ discarding even a single oak barrel at a small brewery like ours means our family goes hungry for a month.”
Ben’s father spoke with a smile in his eyes and sorrow in his voice.
“There are quite a few recipes passed down since my grandfather’s time. We’ve been brewing for generations, after all. But I always thought I’d never get to try them myself because of my own shortcomings······. Thank you, Teacher.”
“Ah, yes······. Well······.”
Patrick felt dazed. Ben’s father’s words were jumbled, yet their meaning was impossible to miss. A brewery in a poor island village with no proper trading partners. Because of that, Ben’s father had to brew at night and fish during the day. With such tight finances, he couldn’t afford to experiment with liquors that might not even sell. Talent and knowledge meant nothing if circumstances refused to allow it. Dreams remained dreams.
Some people said, “Just take the leap. Life is long.”
‘Bullshit.’
Patrick was always ready to flip those people off. The weight of taking a risk was never equal. For those who had much, a challenge required nothing more than the resolve to carry a schoolbag to class. For those who couldn’t even be sure of tomorrow, a challenge was a gamble that threatened survival and mortgaged the rest of their lives.
That day, even as he drank himself into oblivion, Patrick made a resolution. The villager education he had started on a whim needed to be refined further.
His doubts about his own magic were once again pushed to the back of his mind. After all, it wasn’t a particularly important problem to him.
***
“How interesting.”
While Patrick, dead drunk, lay passed out at the village chief’s house and drifted through pleasant dreams, the most powerful man in Eltron found himself intrigued by an unexpected agenda item during a meeting with his retainers.
“This is also connected to that convict mage?”
“Yes, my lord.”
The men’s cosmetics, which were gaining popularity not only among the soldiers but also among the men of the territory, had initially made the lord frown in distaste. After some thought, however, he nodded.
“He’s created a market that didn’t exist before, so praise is in order. Is there anything we can give the merchant Oren who distributed it?”
“The merchant group supplying the soldiers’ provisions was caught tampering with their goods. How about granting them that right?”
“Not bad. Do it.”
“Do you have no intention of rewarding the mage separately······?”
“Turning a blind eye to a convict making money should be reward enough, shouldn’t it?”
“Indeed it is.”
The retainers agreed with their lord. In truth, Patrick wasn’t the only convict earning money in exile. Those without family or connections still had to eat, so they often took on manual labor or sold goods made with their talents.
‘Still, I’m not sure if this counts as bold······.’
This was the first time something like this had happened. Etienne Eltron, lord of the Eltron territory, stared at the portrait on the table and swallowed a hollow laugh.
“It would be best to instruct the merchant to keep the fact that the subject of this portrait actually exists a secret.”
He worried that curious sightseers might flock to the exile island just to see the convict’s face.
Tap, tap—
“And there’s one more thing I need to confirm.”
“What would that be······?”
“This convict sold alcohol under the pretext of the children’s dreams. I want to send someone to Dunbrook Island to verify whether he truly used that money for the children. If it turns out to be a lie, I will hold him accountable for betraying the people’s goodwill.”
“Yes! I’ll prepare it immediately!”
Gratitude had arrived.