Chapter 200
Chapter 200
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 200
Chapter Title: A Commission from the Magic Bureau
-----------------------------------------------------------------
What...
People shed tears now and then in life.
That's what tears are for, after all.
So, malfunctioning eye humidifiers over my little sister? Nothing to be ashamed of.
"Sweet brother, could you check this out?"
"......"
That said, three days after the engagement ceremony, and those damn employees were still teasing me about it.
You might wonder why tease over something like that, but I'd built up some karma.
Too much tsundere act...
Everyone could see I cared about my sister, yet I pretended otherwise. It must've irked them.
And Emily, who should've covered for me, stayed neutral—thanks to my engagement speech—watching from the sidelines.
"Humidifier Baron, your hands stopped."
"Hmph..."
The clincher? I reacted way too dramatically, so the teasing wouldn't stop.
I just needed to ignore it, but strangely, my ears flushed red and my body twitched reflexively every time.
"Humidifier sir, fabric's here."
"Hrmph..."
Thanks to that, freedoms of expression and the abolition of class distinctions—centuries overdue—were sprouting in our atelier.
Commoners, nobles, even imperial folk, all feasting on me equally.
"U-um... y-your tears on the fabric... oh nooo..."
"......"
Exhausted, I face-planted briefly, and when Elin timidly piped up after glancing around, I thought the world ended.
Like a cat mid-paw punch suddenly baring claws?
"Huuuh..."
Real tears threatening, I lifted my face from the fabric, sighed deeply, and covered it with my hands.
I'll get revenge someday.
Make them tremble with shame...
"Young Master, Young Master."
"Yeah..."
Vowing inwardly while slumped in my chair, Emily—who'd ditched her duties somewhere—shook my shoulder.
"What is it?"
"Young Master, a letter arrived. Sender's kinda weird."
"Devonshire?"
"Not that... here."
"Lemme see..."
Wondering who sent it to elicit that reaction, I frowned and took the letter from Emily.
[Magic Bureau...]
"?"
I rubbed my eyes, thinking I'd misread "Treasury" or "Commerce."
Those were odd enough, but plausible for taxes or patents.
Magic Bureau? No way.
Dad's high up there, sure, but what would a tailor gain from them?
I'm mana-less; can't even cast spells.
[Magic Bureau Administrative Division 1]
Rubbed again, but it stayed the same.
"Tigres Countess maybe?"
That absurd progeny-boosting magic rumor finally reach them?
Summons for using unregistered mystery magic?
"Hmm..."
Uneasy, I tore open the envelope.
One sheet inside.
If it's a summons, hands shook as I unfolded it.
[...the Magic Bureau hereby requests to commission William Henry Howard, Baron Howard...]
"Huh?"
Heart eased, but head spun.
What commission for a dropout like me?
Magic Bureau overflows with talent; why me?
Even in a power-over-law era, this reeks of cronyism—bound to draw flak.
Wonder what nonsense brews there. Intriguing.
"Hmm~ maybe just hear 'em out..."
Bail if it's fishy.
_
Next day, after sending a letter to set a meeting.
"Thank you for the prompt reply, Baron Howard. I'm Joseph Fletcher, head of Administrative Division 1 in the Magic Bureau and senior mage—Viscount Fletcher."
"Pleased to meet you, Viscount Fletcher. William Henry Howard, Baron Howard."
Instead of a letter confirming the date, they sent the eager handler straight to the atelier.
A division head, no less.
For a tailor commission, the enthusiasm and rank were overkill—bloodshot eyes nearly welled up.
Middle manager jumping in personally, bureaucrat moving briskly? Either top brass pressure or massive screw-up.
Wanted to boot him and decline, but seeing a division head hustle like a newbie sealed it—no backing out.
Show reluctance now, and I'd witness a middle-aged noble mage—dad's age—begging a youth like me.
Plus piss off some lofty figure.
If Dad couldn't block this, it's one of the Empire's sun, moon, stars.
Irk them? I'd lick Elizabeth's boots begging help.
"No, I'm grateful you approached a nobody like me."
"Haha, calling yourself a nobody? Others'd weep blood."
So, twitching smile or not, I had to chat amiably.
"Ideally, we'd chat leisurely, Baron Howard, but time's tight. Straight to business?"
"Y-yes... of course."
Stunned by the pace, I nodded awkwardly, but Viscount Fletcher plopped files down unfazed and spoke.
"The Magic Bureau's swollen with people lately."
"Isn't it always huge? Handles all magic matters—Treasury-sized, I heard."
"True, but it's ballooned 30% more—thanks to you, Baron Howard."
"...Me?"
Blindsided, I gawked and pointed at myself.
Not Dad—me.
"Your outreach to witches and documenting their tech pulled lone wolves under our wing."
"Ah, yes."
"So admin for witches grew, plus deployments to their southeast turf."
"Uh, hmm..."
Yep, my fault.
Didn't expect my synthetic fabric patent snowball to roll this far.
"Sorry..."
"Haha, no need to apologize, Baron Howard."
I bowed hastily; he waved it off with a hearty laugh, grinning excitedly as he continued.
"Workload was already high, but more manager spots mean promotions—everyone's thankful."
"Glad to hear it."
Whew, dodged the mages' wrath.
Not just more work—more upward mobility too.
One snag: how's this linked to commissioning me?
"Issue is, new hires flooded in so fast, we can't tell folks apart."
Frowning, Viscount Fletcher elaborated.
"...What do you mean, can't distinguish people?"
Not face-blindness—what gives? My frown deepened.
"Mages, magic engineers, witches, arcanists, shamans, admins—mixed bag under one roof. Total mishmash, causing mix-ups galore."
"Oof... headache."
Made sense—infuriating, really.
Rapid growth, broad scope, diverse staff? Chaos inevitable.
"Can't badges fix that? Plenty admin solutions..."
Didn't seem worth dragging in a tailor.
Expansion stabilizes over time, split depts for sprawl, badges/lists for variety.
"Non-admins refuse."
"What nonsense?"
"Egos too strong. Childish methods? No dice—forcing it just breeds trash."
"......"
This, the Empire's brain trust?
Elementary school tantrums? Credibility tanked.
But I got it—what they wanted from the Magic Bureau.
"Not asking for distinguishing uniforms, are you?"
"Spot on. Uniforms mages, witches, engineers et al. accept, that set them apart cleanly."
"Hrm..."
Ultimate uniforms pleasing prickly, stubborn elites?
Tricky commission.
"What specs?"
"Neat, instantly ID types—form and style flexible."
"Hmm~"
Neat yet distinctive...
Easy win if nailed?
Freedom beyond two conditions tempted.
Clothes are clothes.
Something fitting popped up.
"Fine, let's do it."
Grinning confidently, I nodded.