Coming of Age Ceremony (5)
After hauling up all the bamboo she would use for the floor into the tree, Monia inspected the spot she had picked out for the storehouse and the shelter already nestled above it.
"Whoa. Looking at it from below, it feels quite different than usual."
The bamboo poles resting on three thick, sturdy branches were tightly bound with rope. Monia stared at them, then began to replicate the pattern with the bamboo she had brought up.
Lacking Chester's skill and sense of balance, working on such an unstable footing proved to be an immense challenge for her.
"Oof."
Having started early in the morning, it was nearly lunchtime by the time Monia finally managed to finish building the floor.
"Chester made it look so easy."
Once the materials were ready, Chester could whip up a shelter or a storehouse in less time than it had taken Monia just to lay down this floor.
It's because Chester moves without hesitation.
Once Chester secured what he deemed a reasonable level of safety, he never hesitated to execute any action he knew he was capable of. For instance, leaping from branch to branch in a jump that bordered on a long jump. Or, the moment he acquired even a single tool, he would plunge headfirst into danger without a shred of fear. That was exactly how he had acted when they were surrounded by Ant-wolves and a machete was placed in his hand.
I'd love to learn how to do that... but that's probably just his nature.
Even if someone told her to watch and copy him, she felt she could never do it in a million years. Grumbling to herself, Monia climbed down the ladder to get some food. It felt like only yesterday that she had tumbled face-first onto the ground the moment she clung to the ladder, but now, once she reached a certain height, she simply hopped down to the dirt, too lazy to step down every single rung.
"Come and eat."
"What's on the menu today?"
"The usual."
"Aww."
Monia walked over to Chester and saw him baking clay vessels in the kiln.
"Are you finally finishing the Chili Powder Bombs?"
"We'll see. Even if they turn out well, they're hard to remake, so we'll have to use them sparingly."
Chester was mastering the art of firing clay purely through trial, error, and intuition. He was carefully groping his way through the dark without a single guidepost, a mentor to teach him the craft, or a book to provide knowledge. Yet, in his own way, Chester had even begun keeping records of his pottery attempts.
Which ratio of soil to water yielded the best clay. Which location's soil produced the sturdiest results. How many days of drying led to the best bake. He fired clay plates of various thicknesses and shapes, recording which form and thickness held up the best.
He constantly pondered what else he could do, steadily progressing day by day. His efforts bore fruit; compared to a few months ago when he first started firing clay, Chester had made massive strides.
Back then, only a handful survived the kiln while the majority shattered. Now, the shattered ones were the minority, and successful pieces were the norm. With this refined skill, he had even succeeded in crafting jars to store honey, crops, and fruit.
The greatest advantage of Chester's pottery was its durability. As long as they didn't break, they wouldn't dry out or rot over time like a thatched leaf roof, requiring constant replacement. Nor did they suffer from the inevitable wear and tear of knife or axe handles, which eventually warped, cracked, and needed replacing no matter how sturdily they were made.
Consequently, once he had made enough of them, he had nothing left to craft and simply did it as a hobby to pass the time. Though he had made spare jars of various sizes just in case, these unused spares didn't even merit a corner in the storehouse and lay scattered around the base of the tree trunk.
For the record, before he began researching the Chili Powder Bombs, Chester's main creations had been doodle tablets. He would shape a clay slab, scribble whatever came to mind on it, and fire it. If he liked the result after baking, he kept it; if not, he smashed it.
His subjects ranged from the day's prey, Ant playing around, animals caught in traps, the meals they ate, to unique plants discovered during exploration or breathtaking natural landscapes. He had also tried drawing Monia, but none of those drawings turned out to his satisfaction, so he had smashed them all.
"So, how's the storehouse coming along?"
"Um, yes. I think... it's getting there?"
Monia replied with a peculiar expression. Since she had only just started on the floor, she probably couldn't quite picture how the storehouse would actually turn out. Chester wanted to tell her to plan her moves with a clear image of the finished product in mind first, but knowing that Monia was already struggling just to focus on the task right in front of her, he kept his mouth shut.
"But now that I'm doing it, it's actually pretty fun."
"Fun?"
"Yes. To be honest, I've been anxious every single day."
Ever since arriving on this island, Monia had lived desperately, fueled by vows of revenge. But the target of her vengeance was nowhere in sight, and the only person she could compare herself to was Chester, whose skills were on an incomparably higher level. No matter how much Chester praised her, telling her she was improving, growing, and doing a great job, it was hard for Monia to feel any real change.
Was she really getting better? Was she still just a burden dragging Chester down? What if Chester was only praising her out of politeness, while secretly thinking she was useless? Every time she tried something new, every time she failed, those anxieties crept in.
"That's why I'm so grateful to you for giving me this task to do all on my own."
Because it meant that, in Chester's eyes, she had grown enough to handle such a challenge. That was why she had clung to this coming-of-age ceremony so desperately, pouring her absolute all into it. She wanted to prove Chester's judgment right and live up to his expectations.
She had crafted her tools from scratch, gathered the bamboo, and was now building a storehouse. Moreover, she wasn't just blindly building it; she was brainstorming, problem-solving, and taking things a step further on her own initiative. She was no longer a passive person who only did what she was told within set boundaries, but an active, driven individual with a strong desire to improve herself.
"It's all thanks to you, Chester."
Monia offered a bright smile, deeply feeling how much she had changed. Chester quietly gazed at her face for a moment before turning his eyes back to the campfire where the meat was roasting.
"I'm glad you find it fun."
"Are you?"
"Yeah. It's miserable when you can't enjoy what you're doing and it's nothing but a struggle."
That was how Chester had felt during his butler training. He had endured his days at the Butler Academy and his time serving the Duke's eldest daughter, Monia, solely out of a sense of duty.
"I love that I can make things with my own two hands," Monia said, stepping closer to Chester to roast her own portion of meat. "It's tough that absolutely nothing comes easily here, but at the same time, because I have to work so hard to get anything, everything feels incredibly precious."
The single stone knife tucked into her waist felt far more precious and valuable than all the exquisite jewelry that had once filled her jewelry box back when she was the Duke's daughter.
Chester nodded, understanding exactly what she meant.
"I'll work hard on the storehouse."
"Alright."
The two finished their lunch and went back to their respective tasks.
"..."
Two days after that conversation with Monia, Chester brought out the well-dried wild chilies, placed them on a stone slab, and began to carefully grind them.
Completely devoid of moisture, the chilies crumbled into powder as they were crushed and rubbed between the slab and another stone.
Grrriiiind. Grrriiiind.
Veins bulging in his forearms, Chester applied steady pressure, grinding the chilies slowly, meticulously, and finely into powder.
At first, the chili powder retained some coarse, flaky textures, but as he repeatedly ground it against the stone slab, it gradually lost its shape, turning into a fine dust.
Having painstakingly ground the chilies into a fine powder, Chester carefully brought over the clay vessels.
Into a small vessel that fit snugly in the palm of his hand, he poured the freshly ground chili powder.
Once he had filled it with what seemed like a sufficient amount, Chester quickly scooped up a bit of wet clay from the pile beside his feet with his index finger.
He meticulously smeared the clay along the rim and the inner edge of the vessel, then brought another small vessel over and pressed the two together.
Squeezing them tightly until they were roughly joined, he took another dab of wet clay and carefully sealed the seam where the two vessels met.
Having sealed the two halves together with clay inside and out, Chester carefully examined the completed Chili Powder Bomb.
...Good.
It had been an incredibly difficult process. The hardest part was making the clay shell thin enough to shatter upon impact when thrown, releasing the chili powder inside. However, crafting such thin vessels resulted in far too many failures compared to the effort required. So, Chester had opted for a different approach.
He made the vessels slightly thicker. Then, once they were fully fired, he ground them down against the stone slab until they were paper-thin. This method made the task significantly easier, allowing him to produce a much larger quantity of Chili Powder Bombs than he had initially anticipated.
Chester carefully set the finished bomb aside and picked up another vessel to start on the second one, when—
"Chester!!"
Monia's sudden, booming shout startled him, causing his hand to clench and crush the clay vessel to pieces.
"..."
Chester stared at the broken shards in his hand, then brushed them off with a sigh. His palm wasn't cut, and it wasn't like a completed Chili Powder Bomb had broken, so he decided to let it go.
"Chester!!" Wondering what was going on, he looked over toward Monia, who kept calling his name.
"Chester!! Over here! Look over here!" Monia was clinging to the ladder with one hand and both feet, frantically waving her free arm to get his attention.
"I finished the storehouse!"