Orchestrating a Noble's Assassination (3)
Daimond.
That was the name of the old man standing before me.
He was a magic tool artisan.
He lived in a hut like this now, but in the past he had worked at the Rosman Marquess family's magic tool workshop — and not merely as one craftsman among many. He had held the highest post of all: chief artisan.
"…I don't know what you think you know, but I have no intention of making magic tools any longer."
No. That wasn't true.
He still yearned to craft them. I knew that because I had met him in my previous life.
That was when it happened.
"Grandpa—!"
I turned toward the voice that had come from somewhere nearby.
A young girl stood there with an A-frame carrier on her back. The carrier was stacked high with branches, and the basket in her hands held all manner of plants and herbs.
She was the little one Daimond cherished most.
It was thanks to her that I had met Daimond in my previous life. Our connection had begun when I saved her from a bear that was chasing her.
Her name was, if I remembered correctly—
Alice.
"Alice, come over here."
"Who's this mister? Is he a guest?"
Daimond hesitated, unable to answer easily. Then, with a long sigh, he started toward the hut.
"…Have a cup of tea before you go."
"Yes, sir."
It was an offer I had no reason to refuse. Drinking tea would naturally lead to conversation, and conversation held the possibility of persuasion.
Besides, perhaps fate really did exist. In this life as well, it seemed I would form a bond with Daimond thanks to Alice.
I followed him into the hut.
It was exactly the sort of place one would picture. It could not be called spacious or luxurious, but it was cozy and comfortable. Looking at it had once made me want a villa of my own in the forest.
"Sit wherever you like. Though I doubt any seat here will suit a man of your station."
Daimond spoke with a sarcastic edge. Nobles fretted over a speck of dust on their clothes as a matter of course, so he had judged me to be the same sort. He probably assumed I would refuse to sit inside such a shabby hut.
That was a serious misconception.
I did not care in the least about getting dust on myself. Mud on a pearl necklace did not make it any less a pearl necklace.
I sat down in a suitable spot at once, and Daimond shot me a sidelong glance. The hostility in his eyes seemed to have lessened somewhat.
Before long, teacups were set on the table. I took a sip. The tea was not half bad.
"Once you've finished your tea, leave."
"Do you truly have no desire to make magic tools?"
"That's right. I'm thoroughly sick of it by now."
"Then what about those?"
On a desk in one corner of the hut, a pile of yellowed papers and small magic stones lay scattered about. They were proof that he had been making magic tools until recently.
Daimond looked at the same place and clicked his tongue.
"I was only making toys for Alice."
"If that truly is the end of it, I won't say another word."
"Then…"
"But let me tell you one thing with absolute certainty. I can restore everything the Rosman Marquess family took from you. Your money, your honor, and the pride you lost."
The reason the former chief artisan was living like this was a clash with the Marquess of Rosman. The marquess had wanted to lower the quality of magic tools by using inferior magic stones, and Daimond had opposed it on grounds of safety.
No matter how brilliant a chief artisan he was, he was still only a commoner. He stood no chance of winning against a marquess, so naturally he had lost everything and been driven out.
I drew magic tools from the small bag at my waist — a magic stone lamp, a resonance crystal, a mana detector, and more. Items the Rosman Marquess family's magic tool workshop had supplied to the military.
"Are these truly the kind of magic tools you wanted to create?"
Daimond gave no answer. He merely stared at the tools on the table with a furrowed brow.
"I'll come back in three days. Please give the matter careful thought."
I took one last sip of tea and rose to my feet. All that remained now was his choice alone.
The carriage carrying Caenderic departed.
Watching it through the window, Daimond let out a long sigh. His gaze then turned to the magic tools on the table.
He did not need to ask where they had been made. From the basic design onward, everything had come from his own mind.
But back then, they had not been this crude. Once made, they could easily last ten years — no, twenty. That was how they had earned imperial recognition and secured a contract with the military.
Compared to those, the items before him would all break down in a mere year, two at most. Because they had been made with inferior magic stones, the output had to be forced higher, which inevitably led to magic stone overload.
An overloaded magic stone was nothing short of a bomb. Even a low-grade stone could easily kill anyone nearby.
He had opposed it for that reason, but what came back was a cold verdict.
That was when Alice sat down across from him, in the seat Caenderic had occupied.
"Grandpa, why did you lie?"
"This old man has never told a lie in his life."
"You told that guest you didn't want to make magic tools."
"About that…"
Daimond could not easily continue. Alice had struck the nail on the head.
His desire to make magic tools was no different from those days. No — it had grown even stronger. In this environment, what he could create was extremely limited. The magic tools he had made under the pretense of Alice's toys had piled up until they filled the warehouse.
"I want you to make magic tools, Grandpa."
"Why do you think that?"
"Because you look happiest when you're making them."
"You little rascal. Watching you grow up healthy is what makes me happiest."
"Aww, that's not the same thing!"
Haha. Alice's reaction was so endearing that Daimond laughed out loud.
In truth, she was not his blood granddaughter. On the day he left the Rosman Marquess family, he had found her crying in an alley and taken her in. But by now they were no different from a real granddaughter and grandfather.
He was worried. When this old man left the world, the young girl would have to live on her own. More than anything, she would not be able to bloom the talent she possessed.
If she met a good opportunity, Alice would surely become a magic tool artisan even greater than he was. Daimond was certain of that.
The man had given him three days — but it seemed the answer was already decided.
While Daimond deliberated over the partnership, I was making moves of my own.
"Steward, purchase all the land in this vicinity. You may use my name if necessary."
"You mean around the abandoned mine in Candel Viscounty?"
"Yes. Formally transfer the rights to the structures on the land as well, through proper procedure."
"Understood."
In Candel Viscounty, besides the two mines currently being worked, there was one abandoned mine. The reason I specifically wanted that place was, of course, that it was the most advantageous location for securing a supply of magic stones.
Moreover, mines inevitably came with magic stone processing facilities. Renovating that would be far more advantageous in both time and money than building a new workshop from scratch. That was why I was transferring the rights to the structures.
What remained, then, was proving the defects in the magic tools made by the Rosman Marquess family. Daimond, who would give me a positive answer, would handle that. As the original developer of the magic tools, he would know better than anyone.
And once I had completely seized the magic tool market — I would dig up the crimes Gasfield and the Rosman Marquess family had committed and make them pay. If someone was behind them, that bastard would meet the same fate.
Time passed, and before I knew it, the promised three days had arrived. I rode a carriage to Daimond's hut.
No matter how many times I came, I simply could not get used to the feeling of a carriage racing along mountain paths. It was thoroughly unpleasant.
But for some reason — unlike the previous visit, Daimond did not come out of the hut. Perhaps he had stepped out for a moment.
Just as I was about to knock on the door, a voice came from the other side.
"Alice, that was excellent."
"Really? Did I do well?"
"Yes. At this level, you could call yourself a proper magic tool artisan."
Fortunately, Daimond had not left. He had simply been too absorbed in spending time with the little girl. Since that would save me time, it was good for me as well.
Knock knock.
I gave the door a light rap, and before long I sensed movement from the other side.
"Who is it?"
"I've come as promised after three days."
The firmly shut door opened. The Daimond who faced me wore an expression of hardened resolve.
"Have you had enough time to think?"
"I have."
"Then let me hear your answer."
"I will cooperate with you. But I have one condition."
"Go on."
"Alice — that little girl — let her come along as well."
Over Daimond's shoulder, I could see Alice. She was sitting at a desk, crafting a magic tool.
It was not something that required any deliberation.
"Yes. Let's do that."
"Then come inside. I want to discuss the details."
I stepped into the hut.