Operations Begin (4)
Ten daggers, twenty cheap magic stones, orc fangs and blood. A string of bear's strength, assorted herbs, and even some tree bark.
Laden with a pile of strange odds and ends he had never even known were for sale, Marek arrived at the mansion only in the afternoon, having missed lunch entirely.
"Young master. I've bought everything. But what on earth do you intend to use all this for?"
"Shh. This is a secret between only you and me, Marek. Not a word to anyone. Think of it as a kind of test. Whether I continue to regard you as one of my own and work with you... or treat you as a traitor and take my revenge."
"Revenge?"
Marek did not take the boy's words particularly seriously. He was twenty; Roy was barely five. Even if the child said such things now, he would probably forget them completely in a few years. Still, the reason Marek obeyed the little boy's orders to the letter was simple: he owed the child everything for not being cast out of this mansion and sent back to his hometown.
"What do you plan to do with these from now on?"
"I can't tell you that. But you're going to be busy today. First, go to the kitchen, get an old pot, and bring it behind the annex. The place where they split firewood."
"A pot...?"
"Just do as I ask for now. I don't have time to explain everything. It won't be a loss for you either, Marek. Ah—and the pot needs to be at least this big."
Roy seemed impatient; he made to move at once himself. He intended to carry the leather bag of goods Marek had just fetched. But with ten daggers inside and a leather waterskin full of orc blood, the weight was no joke. Far beyond what an ordinary five-year-old could lift and carry.
Watching this, Marek had no choice but to step forward and take it instead. Roy, however, had other ideas.
"What are you doing? Hurry up and fetch that pot instead of standing there."
"Pardon? How do you plan to move something this heavy yourself, Young Master Roy? I'll set this down and go get the pot right away."
Roy hesitated. In truth, with mana he could lift that weight with ease. But was there any need to show others such a thing? The work he planned today was already suspicious enough.
I don't know how much mana I'll need yet, so better to conserve it.
"All right. Then I'll leave it to you. I'll repay this favor within a few days, so just bear with it a little longer."
"Yes, yes. Never mind anything else—just return my money."
From Marek's perspective, his own money was the greatest source of anxiety. He had no idea what the kid intended with this junk, but in the end the brat had blown every last coin Marek had lent him buying the stuff.
"Ah! And if any of the maids are free, bring just one of them along. If everyone's busy, forget it. Preferably the youngest."
"A maid? Why?"
"I have my reasons."
Marek could not begin to understand Roy's inexplicable behavior. But what choice did he have? When ordered, he obeyed. Still, compared to the former wastrel second son, Roy—who always kept his manners—was far better.
As a lordly house that owned a fairly expansive domain, the Greenhilt mansion boasted a respectable size. There was the enormous main building that effectively served as the lord's castle, and two annexes that, while smaller, were by no means modest. One annex was used as lodging when guests arrived; the other housed the servants. Their roles were clearly divided. Yet the estate was so large that empty rooms were plentiful—not only in the guest annex that stood vacant year-round, but even in the servants' quarters. The main building itself had more empty rooms than one could count on both hands.
When Roy first learned of this, he had assumed the upkeep costs must be enormous, but apparently that was not quite the case. The maids might suffer from the cleaning, yet the number of people who needed to be permanently employed for management was not all that different.
Passing through the front gate, one first saw a broad garden, then two large annexes facing each other. The main building stood at the center of a U-shaped arrangement. Behind the main house lay a training ground, and beyond that the stables and carriage warehouse. Behind the warehouse rose a high stone wall that enclosed the entire estate grounds in a great square. Unless one climbed a tall building in the city or a mountain, it was impossible to peer into the mansion from the street.
Which is exactly why it feels so stifling I could die.
The grounds were spacious enough, yet to Roy they felt like a prison. Unlike his free previous life, the still-young Roy was strictly forbidden from leaving the mansion. Climbing to the corridor of the main building's highest fourth floor and gazing at the distant silhouette of the streets beyond the walls had become the boy's daily ritual for calming his frustration.
"Hmm... this spot will do."
Behind the guest annex, of the two buildings. The annex itself and the small shed built for storing dry wood and firewood created a corner no one could spy on without deliberately rounding it. Hired laborers sometimes split wood there, but otherwise no one ever passed by.
"No guests staying in the annex right now either. Perfect."
As long as no one peeked and reported him to the baron or baroness, it was an ideal place for a hideout.
Confirming no one was watching, Roy immediately invoked magic.
"This should be enough."
He found a suitable spot and poured mana into the ground. A narrow patch of earth writhed and heaved of its own accord, part of it thrusting upward.
"Just as I expected."
After shaping the soil into a proper form, Roy switched to magic of a different attribute. Water this time. Water conjured in midair poured over the mound of earth he had just raised. With both hands flooding mana, he worked the water and soil into a well-mixed dough, then used that dough to finish something resembling a hearth.
"Done."
He had expended a fair amount of mana, yet the result looked quite plausible, and a smile came unbidden. He still did not know the size of the pot Marek would bring, but this should handle even a fairly large one without trouble.
"We'll be lighting a fire soon anyway, so no need to bake it on purpose, right?"
Most of the moisture created by magic evaporated on its own the moment he cut the mana. The soil was the original earth, so it held its shape well enough. Still, it was not thoroughly dry; he would need to fire it once to drive out every last bit of the water the dirt had originally held.
While Roy went into the shed and emerged with several dry logs, Marek returned with the pot. In his hands was a rather large iron cauldron; behind him stood a small girl.
"Young Master Roy. What are you doing here?"
"Welcome."
Her name was Misha. He had seen her a few times when he went to eavesdrop on the maids' conversations for information.
"But... when did this get here?"
Marek had passed through this spot earlier while hauling the daggers and other goods. At that time there had been no hearth; now one sat there as if it had always belonged, so of course he was startled.
"I made it with magic. But for now I want it kept secret, so please watch your tongues."
At the mention of magic, Marek's eyes went round—and so did those of Misha, who had followed behind him.
"You too, Misha. Please keep quiet about this."
"Huh? How do you know my name...?"
"I overheard it by chance while passing by."
Misha worked in the kitchen. She had undergone her coming-of-age ceremony the previous year and was now a young lady of sixteen. Only adults could work in the lord's mansion; completing the coming-of-age rites was mandatory. At present Misha was the youngest among the estate's hired staff.
"I know it will be hard with all those chatty senior maids, but I'm counting on you. Keep the secret and I'll be sure to repay you soon."
"Understood."
"I can trust you, right?"
"Yes. Everything I see and hear here, I'll take to my grave."
"No need for graves. Just pretend you don't know for a few years. Don't make it harder than it is."
Marek spoke up.
"So, young master. What exactly are you planning to do here?"
"Nothing much. I want to make something, but it can't be seen by anyone."
Roy stuffed the firewood into the hearth and cast a flame spell. The magical fire caught on the logs in an instant. A moment later he tapped the entire hearth with an unburned piece of wood, checking that it had hardened properly.
"Now set the pot on top of this."
The heavy iron cauldron settled onto the newly made hearth.
"Next, pour all the orc blood into the pot. Once that's done, the two of you take opposite corners of the annex and keep watch. If anyone comes, signal me immediately."
Only then did Marek understand why he had been told to bring a maid. Lookouts were needed.
"Not a difficult request, is it? I'm not up to anything shady, so don't worry."
"All right. Then I'll take this side."
Misha moved at once. Marek looked as though he still had something he wanted to say to Roy, but he soon shook his head and went to take up his post as well.
Suspicious, of course. But just wait a little. You'll be thanking the gods that I chose you.
Watching the two recede, Roy smiled—a smile utterly unfitting for a child.