The Sewing Machine Is Complete!
The sewing machine was complete!
It was truly an astonishing development.
Already?
The symbol of industrialization (or so they claimed), the revolution of cottage industry, the very spark that would ignite factory production—had been born into this world.
"I'll go see Father first."
"Yes, go on."
I set that joy aside for the moment and headed to Father.
"Father—!"
"You're here!"
Father came running out at my booming call.
"Come inside. We'll talk about the details indoors."
"Yes."
And so I followed him into his study and gave a thorough account of everything that had happened—from meeting the 7th Apostle at the Hardion Viscounty all the way through the various incidents at the Merlin County.
Father was considerably startled at the part about the 7th Apostle.
"The 7th Apostle truly said that to you? That you should succeed him?"
"Yes."
"And so…"
"I refused him, of course. The spirit of Falaon does not break."
"Well done. Truly well done."
After that, the 7th Apostle's followers withdrew from Hardion, and we arrived at Merlin. I told him everything—how the count rejected the proposal, and what had transpired with Kashabella afterward.
By the time the whole story was finished, Father wore a complicated expression.
An understandable reaction.
There wasn't just one or two bombshells in there.
The 7th Apostle alone would have been enough—but it didn't stop there. At Merlin I had also gotten tangled up with Inoxia, the archmage and founding hero of the kingdom. If I had spouted this to a stranger, they would have been fully justified in spitting in my face and calling it nonsense.
Fortunately, Father believed me.
"Truly chaotic. First the Apostle Council, and now an ancient hero… It's hard to take at face value. And yet I can hardly refuse to believe it either. Very well—I understand. Rest for a while."
"Yes!"
I handed every last worry over to Father and left the study at once.
The 7th Apostle?
What did I care?
Even if I fretted over it, there was nothing I could do right now. I couldn't storm the Apostle Council, and I certainly couldn't drag the 7th Apostle in for a beating.
Inoxia was the same.
I just need to do what I can do, right?
Yes. That positive side of you is rather appealing.
So what could I do right now?
Simple.
Industrialization.
In other words, dyeing this fantasy world in the colors of advanced factory industry.
And so I made my way to the workshop.
"Sir Zelos—!"
"At last you're here!"
Sir Zelos greeted me warmly.
I wasted no time.
"The sewing machine… Please, show me the sewing machine at once."
"Follow me."
Sir Zelos led the way with a majestic stride.
The workshop, which I hadn't visited in some time, had changed considerably.
It had never been small to begin with, but they had expanded it while I was gone.
It's nearly twice as large, isn't it?
So it is.
The original space had been left as a common area, with Sir Zelos's private quarters and the apprentices' quarters separated off.
As I stepped into the common area, two apprentices emerged from the research room to greet me.
"Young master, you've returned."
"Wel… come back…"
"Have you both been well?"
Majenka and Delis both snuck a glance at Sir Zelos.
When Sir Zelos narrowed his eyes, their mouths opened.
"We've been living so happily…"
"Yes. There could be no days more happy or fulfilling than these…"
Hmm. They seemed to be doing fine.
"I'm glad to hear you're happy."
"That will be all. Return to your work."
"Yes…"
"Yes…"
The two of them staggered back into the research room.
Are they really all right?
Of course they are.
A quick look showed their pupils still had focus—they seemed fine for now.
More importantly, they had said so themselves.
They were fine.
Happy, even.
Therefore those two ought to spend the rest of their lives grateful to Falaon and to me.
Why?
Because I was the one who introduced them to Sir Zelos.
In any case, I set off again with Sir Zelos.
We arrived at his private workspace.
"Here it is."
"So this is…"
I took in the object resting on the table.
Its appearance was not so different from the sewing machines I had seen in my previous life.
The one difference, perhaps, was that it ran on mana rather than electricity.
"At first the precision between the needle piercing the cloth and the loop catching the thread beneath gave me quite a bit of trouble. But once I used those 'gears' you told me about, the problem resolved itself without much difficulty. And these 'gears'… the concept wasn't entirely new, either."
"I imagine not."
The basic idea of gears was already being used in any number of places, after all.
The real question now was whether this sewing machine actually worked.
"May I try it?"
"Go ahead. There's cloth here."
"Thank you."
I took the cloth and thread Sir Zelos had prepared and set the sewing machine running.
The moment I pressed the button, a drrrrrrrk! sounded and the upper needle began moving at a speed the eye could scarcely follow.
Recalling a glimpse I had once caught at a laundry shop, I fed the cloth through.
How much time passed?
"Well?"
There was no need to say it twice.
"It's perfect."
A flawless recreation.
In the days that followed, I held meetings with Father and Bilheim on the subject of "Countermeasures Against the 7th Apostle, the Apostle Council, and Inoxia," while also devising plans to push industrialization forward.
The sewing machine is finished, at least.
The problem, as always, was cost.
"The mana stones that serve as the power source aren't particularly expensive. The issue is the cost of the parts themselves."
"The parts?"
"Yes. The gears have to be extraordinarily precise."
Apparently the gears currently in use had been commissioned by hand from a craftsman Sir Zelos knew.
"Would casting them from molds be difficult?"
"Casting from molds… Not a bad approach, it seems. But first I'd like to know your purpose."
"My purpose?"
"Yes. What do you intend to do with this sewing machine?"
"Hmm."
I thought for a moment.
Naturally, what I wanted was to build a factory that mass-produced clothing with sewing machines.
But then a thought struck me.
Do I really need to sell only clothes?
In the modern world there were factories that manufactured and sold sewing machines separately, so you could simply buy one. That wasn't the case here.
Which meant we would have no choice but to make the sewing machines ourselves.
In that case…
"Well, clothes are one thing—but what if we also manufactured and sold the sewing machines themselves?"
"These sewing machines?"
"Yes. We'll need sewing machines to build a clothing factory anyway. While we're at it, let's build a sewing machine factory too."
"Hmm. To be honest, that would be difficult."
"Pardon? Difficult?"
Sir Zelos nodded at my question.
"Yes. I've come to understand the concept of a 'factory' as you describe it, to a degree. Similar to a workshop, but minimizing the craftsman's skill as much as possible, using machines like this sewing machine for mass production, then taking profit through thin margins and high volume—is that about right?"
"Yes, more or less."
Sir Zelos understood "industrialization" better than I had expected.
Because he was so learned?
No.
Sir Zelos was clever, certainly, but his knowledge was confined to magic.
The reason he had grasped the core of this was something else entirely.
"In truth, while you were away I circulated letters among a few acquaintances. I asked them about the concept of 'industrialization' as you described it, and about the feasibility of realizing it. Of course I said nothing about the sewing machine… but they all said the same thing."
"Which was?"
"Once it stabilizes, it will bring a radical shift capable of throwing the market into chaos… but the initial costs involved will be enormous."
In short, money was the problem.
I could understand Sir Zelos's caution as well.
I've heard plenty of nobles throw fits the moment a mage starts talking about money.
They would just tell you to grind people into the work until it was done.
But for someone who had tasted modern capitalist society, that was absurd.
Money is the beginning of every problem—and the solution to every problem.
Was there anyone who understood the magic of "money" better than I did?
And so I decided to work a little magic of my own.
"Will this be enough?"
"Perhaps it would be better to speak with the Baron first… Hmm?"
I drew a box from Vesl's subspace and held it out.
Inside were platinum coins.
Objects worth a full ten times a gold coin.
Perhaps he was entranced by their luminous beauty.
Sir Zelos's fingertips trembled.
"Am… am I seeing this correctly?"
"Yes, of course."
"I… I won't ask where you obtained them. Does the source matter? The money itself is what matters."
"The source is clean as well."
"Very well. I'll take your word for it. And I may use these?"
"Yes. I'm investing them in industrialization."
"P-perhaps a little for golem research as well…"
"You may use a bit for that."
At my answer, Sir Zelos looked up at me as if I were a god.
"Have I told you? Since the previous Baron's generation, I have considered Falaon my second home."
"I don't believe I've heard it, but I feel as though I already knew."
Did you see that, ancestors?
Sir Zelos had become a Falaon man.
The magic of money as wielded by a modern person can change even a man's homeland. Note that down.
"May I hire craftsmen as well?"
"Yes."
"Technicians?!"
"Of course."
"Administrators to handle accounting and practical affairs, laborers, and…"
"Hire all the personnel you need. For reference, I'll also give you a share of the factories we establish going forward."
"A share—how much?!"
"Thirty percent. How does that sound?"
"Thirty percent! Excellent—I'll do it!"
And so I watered the seed of industrialization that had just begun to sprout.
I headed for "my space" in the workshop.
In truth it was less my space than a half-shared common area by now, but I stood there and summoned the Goltik Duo and Brother Myuhan.
Why all of a sudden?
For no other reason than this.
The Goltik Duo has been a little strange lately.
I had summoned them a few times on the way back, and how should I put it…
They were oddly snappish?
Look at them now.
Gol.
Tik.
Normally they would have been excitedly crying "Golgol!" and "Tiriktak!"—but now they were staring at me with sullen expressions (or the closest thing to them).
"Uh, kids? Did something happen to upset you?"
Gol.
Tik.
Even to my question, the two only answered curtly.
Was this really puberty?
I couldn't begin to guess the reason, so I looked to Brother Myuhan.
"Brother."
"Yes, young master."
"Do you happen to know why those two are acting like that?"
"Hmm. Would you mind sending the two of them out for a moment?"
"Those two? Well, all right. Goltik, want to go play outside for a bit?"
Gol.
Tik.
They still answered curtly and walked out of the workshop.
Brother Myuhan waited until they were completely gone before carefully opening his mouth.
"I hope you will listen without taking offense."
"…All right."
Being told not to take offense usually meant something offensive was coming, but I nodded readily all the same.
Then Brother Myuhan spoke.
"Have you not considered that you may have been neglecting Goltik of late?"
"Pardon? Me?"
"Yes. You, Young Master Khtun."
What had I neglected?
I tilted my head, and Brother Myuhan let out a sigh—or the approximation of one.
Being a skeleton, he couldn't actually sigh, so it was best understood as a remnant of living habit. Still.
"Do you know how many times you summoned Goltik during this journey?"
"W-well…"
"Until we arrived at Merlin, it was zero times."
"Pardon? Didn't I summon them once when we met the 7th Apostle?"
Why did that feel wrong?
"Haa…"
Brother Myuhan let out another deep sigh.
What was it? What was the problem?