How Much Do You Need? (3)
Once more he crossed the chilly streets and arrived at his destination.
None other than the temple.
"Young Master Roy. What brings you out on such a cold day?"
"You're not too busy, I hope?"
"The New Year festival has only just ended, so the temple will be quiet until the spring prayer festival returns."
The temple was a place Roy had visited every year since his baptism. In the past he had always come with the baron. Today Marek accompanied him, yet this was the first time he had arrived without a guardian.
He had left such generous donations on every previous visit that now the mere sound of Roy's footsteps was enough to send the high priest hurrying out to greet him.
As always, Roy drew a heavy leather pouch from his coat and set it down before the high priest. The man's face made no attempt whatsoever at composure. Or perhaps he had simply abandoned the effort altogether.
"I put a little extra this time. I'm leaving for the capital soon, so I doubt I'll be able to call on you again until the coming-of-age ceremony four years from now."
The high priest's bright expression collapsed the instant he heard the words.
"Is that so? Young Master Roy's visits have always been among the days I look forward to most each year. The place will feel terribly lonely without them."
This time it was Roy who offered a wry smile.
There had been several reasons for his repeated trips to the temple. One of them was the analysis of the magic circle engraved on the sacred kettle. That work had progressed smoothly; the entire circle had been fully deciphered two years earlier. It had not been especially difficult, though the clever idea of using inclination to make the circle activate automatically was impressive. Once he finished, Roy had thought, So there are some halfway decent enchanters out there after all. Because the piece had been made abroad, however, a boy who could not freely leave the estate had no way of learning who that enchanter might be. The same was still true now. Tracking down someone from another kingdom would have to wait until after he graduated from the Knight Academy—a long way off yet.
Another reason for the visits had been research into blessings—more precisely, an attempt to steal and learn the incantations of holy-attribute magic. The only sacred spells Roy knew were the ones the demonstration priests had cast at his baptism and a handful of simple tricks he had once written into love letters in his previous life. So every time he came, he asked the high priest to recite new spells, then returned home and practiced them in secret. Thanks to that quiet effort he could now cast recovery magic of a respectable level. Of course, no one in the family—or anyone else—knew of it.
Ah, except Misha.
And then there was the final purpose.
"What became of the matter I mentioned last time?"
"Well..."
As the conversation turned to the real subject, the high priest checked the door and windows to be certain they were alone. Then he craned his neck forward and spoke in a low, conspiratorial whisper.
"Truth be told, this is something I'm telling only you, Young Master Roy. My position made it impossible to inquire at the main temple. I'm sorry."
"......"
"But you needn't look so disappointed. It's you and me, after all. The fact is, our temple does possess one of those items."
"......!?"
"Since you want it so badly, I have no choice but to give it to you. You understand?"
What he was speaking of was a jet-black stone. For the past several years Roy had used merchants to scour every possible source for the stones, yet information had been almost nonexistent. In the end the only place known to make use of them was the temple itself. The enormous donations Roy had continued to pour into the high priest's hands had been meant to persuade the man to contact the main temple and obtain a sizable jet-black stone—Roy had promised to pay any amount of gold. Apparently the high priest's position had forced him to refuse that particular request. In its place, however, he had offered to part with one of the stones already kept at this temple. Roy had assumed from the start that it would be a piece taken from a broken sacred relic.
"May I see it first?"
The high priest produced the jet-black stone at once. Since they were speaking in his private office, he simply opened the drawer behind him and took it out. Handling a so-called sacred relic so casually would normally be forbidden; the ease with which he showed it to Roy revealed exactly how the current high priest regarded the boy. The two of them had been co-conspirators for a long time already.
"This... was mounted on the sacred kettle, wasn't it?"
"...!?"
"It's all right. I won't tell a soul."
"As sharp as ever, Young Master Roy."
"There's only one? If you're going to sell them anyway, give me every stone that was on the kettle."
"I-I beg your pardon? B-but then the sum..."
"That's fine. If you hand them all over, I'll add twenty percent to the figure I originally had in mind. And most important of all—the largest stone, the one that served as the kettle's handle, must be included."
"O-of course, of course. Only... the number attached to it..."
Roy answered with a smile.
"Don't you remember? Right after my seventh birthday I brought a painter here and had the sacred kettle recorded in a painting. There were eight gems set into it, correct? I'll pay fifty gold coins apiece. As I said, with the twenty-percent premium that comes to five hundred gold coins. How does that sound?"
"F-five hundred..."
The high priest's face went slack with awe, as though he had just beheld the Sun God in the flesh. Selling off a temple relic for five hundred gold coins—if the deity were watching, divine punishment would surely follow. Yet the high priest would doubtless spend a portion of that gold on the temple's upkeep and, speaking for the god, forgive himself with a cheerful It's all right, it's all right.
Roy did not wait a moment longer. On the spot he took possession of all eight jet-black stones.
"Bring the gold to the manor and I'll pay you at once."
"Thank you. May the god's blessing always walk with you, Young Master Roy."
It had been an excellent deal.
With this, the materials are complete.
Roy already knew exactly what he intended to do with the jet-black stones. That was also why he had spent the day touring the city.
The ultimate magic staff. He would fashion a peerless wand from unicorn horn, set with the jet-black stones. Enhancement magic would be layered onto it, of course, and a mana-amplification effect as well. And that was not all. There was a specific reason the jet-black stones had been indispensable.
Something he had not attempted once since his reincarnation.
Rune engraving.
My mana pool has grown and I've gained an ancient spirit. Waving a sword around is fine for a day or two, but a proper mage can't go around carrying some shoddy weapon, can he?
Roy smiled brightly as he pictured the finished weapon. Marek asked him,
"Young Master Roy. Shall we return to the manor now?"
"No. There's still one more stop."
"...Where shall I take you?"
"A clothing shop."
"You wish to buy clothes?"
"Yes. Somewhere that sells dresses a young girl might wear."
"Pardon?"
"They're not for me."
Time slipped past, and before anyone quite noticed it was April. Less than a week remained before the day he would leave for the capital to enter the Knight Academy.
"Someone's coming."
"Is that so?"
Noah, ever the watchdog of Roy's room, announced that a visitor was approaching. His ears pricked; he seemed to be listening to the footsteps themselves.
"Who is it?"
"That one."
"Which one?"
"The fellow who's making your staff."
"Ah—Master Smoof? Noah! Put the hat on, quickly!"
Sure enough, a knock soon sounded at the door.
Smoof was a man Roy had brought in from the Karl Mercenary Group, a specialist in wand crafting. A month earlier, artisans had come to the manor one after another. Using his Golden Eyes, Roy had examined the staffs each claimed to have made and had sorted their skill levels with surprising ease. To the most outstanding among them—Smoof—he had entrusted the unicorn horn and the jet-black stones. Naturally he could not risk the man vanishing with such precious materials, so he had given him a room in the manor and a workspace as well.
The finished product now stood before him.
"Oho! This is quite something!"
The staff was meant for Roy, yet it was Noah who first voiced his satisfaction and admiration. Lately Noah had been appearing openly before people, dressed in the hat and clothes Roy had bought for him. There was a limit to how long the spirit could be hidden, and the damned creature's constant whining left no other choice. Whenever his form was concealed he had to return to the sealed space that had once imprisoned him, and he raised such a fuss about it that concealment had become impossible.
"How do you find it, Young Master Roy? To your liking? Personally I prefer the version without these black stones, but I followed your request and set seven of them in a spiral around the shaft, with the largest at the head."
"Those stones are the most important part. You did well. I like it very much. You've worked hard. Go rest; I'll have your payment ready by the end of the day. I'll need to test it myself before I settle on the exact number of gold coins, but a hundred are guaranteed, so don't worry. If it performs as I hope, I'll add another two hundred."
"Wahaha! My deepest thanks!"
Smoof bowed fully five times, left the room with a thoroughly satisfied face, and was gone. Roy immediately bolted the door.
"Noah. No one peeking or heading this way right now?"
"None."
Before Noah's voice had even finished, Roy activated his Golden Eyes. At once he could sense every thread of mana sealed inside the staff—details no ordinary human eye could ever have perceived.
"Hmm. Not bad."
"You'll want to put it through its paces, then? Does that mean we're going outside today? I've been cooped up in here so long I can barely stand it."
"No."
"......?"
"From now on I have to engrave the magic into it, so until we leave for the capital I'll be locked in the basement."
"......"
"What are you waiting for? Let's go. To the basement."
"Somehow my life never seems to change."
On the way down to the basement Roy handed Smoof three hundred gold coins. The staff was not yet complete, but the craftsman had flawlessly finished every task that belonged to him.