Do I Really Have to Do This at My Age? (1)
It seemed a far more grandiose ceremony had originally been planned, but the envoy’s side had apparently refused it.
Nepaneck looked as though she would have preferred to scrap the formalities altogether.
Even so, as the one receiving the closest confidant of a foreign New King, Alfred could not simplify the welcome any further than this.
They exchanged banners engraved with each other’s crests—tokens of unchanging friendship—and after a brief exchange of welcoming remarks according to protocol, the ceremony came to a simple end.
Naturally, no one made a single mistake. The only people who spoke at all were Alfred and the envoy, Treasurer Nepaneck, and the ceremony itself contained no complicated procedures or sequences, so that was only to be expected.
After days of tedious morning-and-evening rehearsals, the moment the welcome ended the soldiers and knights dismissed themselves, leaving only the escort detail behind.
“So… do we dismiss as well?”
“No. We still have work to do.”
“Huh?”
Whether Karem looked bewildered or not, Catherine strode straight toward the Adobis ships without hesitation.
Olivier, who had not been visible up close earlier, somehow joined the group without Catherine even needing to call for him.
So they’re going to check something magical, Karem thought. He had enough sense to figure that much out.
An entire fleet of this scale had moved together with the envoy. Ships consumed enormous resources just by sailing, so they would certainly have packed the holds to the brim both coming and going. The throng of people who looked for all the world like ordinary merchants disembarking from the other Adobis vessels only confirmed his guess.
“Pardon me. Would you be Lord Atanitas, supreme magic advisor to His Grace the Duke of Iceland?”
“I am. You recognized me well.”
“We were informed by His Grace’s people just now. You appear to be someone different from last time—”
“I am the newly appointed supreme magic advisor.”
“Oh. Then the previous ones—”
“My predecessor and his subordinates are said to have perished in the North.”
The dark-elf woman who had come out to guide Catherine onto the transport ship worked her mouth silently for a moment, then, at Catherine’s urging, promptly led the party deeper into the vessel, leaning on her ornate staff.
Sailors and laborers bustling about their own tasks stepped aside with practiced tact even in the middle of their work, so the group’s progress was never hindered.
It was official business; Karem wondered whether he was even allowed to tag along. But if he weren’t, Catherine or Mary would already have stopped him, so the boy simply followed them deeper into the ship in silence.
Listening to Catherine and Olivier converse with the dark-elf woman, Karem realized she was a mage as well. The material and design differed, yet the structure and shape of her staff were strikingly similar to Olivier’s at a glance.
She led them as far as the hold, then left, apparently having other duties.
“Wow… there’s a whole lot of stuff in here.”
Karem muttered as he looked around the warehouse. Centered on a square walkway left open for movement, both the outer walls and the middle were packed solid with wooden crates and sacks of every size, right up to the ceiling.
“They brought two mages, so these must be magic materials, right?”
“Exactly. Quality like this has to be checked in person, one by one.”
Olivier stroked his beard with a look of pure annoyance and wrinkled the corners of his eyes.
“Checking quality… This isn’t really work of our rank to begin with.”
“Can’t be helped, old man. When the underlings are gone, the ones on top have to suffer.”
“Haa… If it weren’t for that idiot former employer’s greed, I’d be taking it easy—researching, ordering underlings around, and loafing. What kind of hardship is this?”
“Stop spewing menopausal gloom. At this rate it’ll take half a day to check everything.”
“Mouthy toward your master, aren’t you?”
Still, he agreed it would take half a day. Olivier floated his staff into the air, rolled up both sleeves, and began following Catherine to inspect the nearest sacks, crates, and jars.
After some time had passed with nothing for them to do, boredom finally crept in. Karem leaned sideways toward Mary and asked quietly,
“Lady Mary, is there anything we can do?”
“Junior Karem. Can you use magic?”
“No? What about you, Mary? You’re a house elf.”
“Well… it isn’t that I can’t use magic.”
“Wait, for real?”
His eyes went round on their own. Come to think of it, back at the Mage’s Tower Mary would appear in a flash from the east or the west the moment anyone called her name even when she was nowhere in sight. Sometimes she just popped up the second you turned your head. There had been plenty of other suspicious moments—had all of that been magic?
Mary coolly ignored the look that said You tricked me.
“But house-elf magic has rather finicky and vague conditions and methods of use. In the present situation it wouldn’t be of any particular help to the Contractor or Lord Olivier.”
“Then what can we do?”
“We can do nothing. Chew on some crumble instead. I mixed in nuts.”
Mary opened a plump silk pouch. It was packed with large and small clusters of deep-brown and beige crumbs that looked crispy just from the sight of them.
The rich aroma of butter and sugar cut straight through the dry wooden scent and faint saltiness of the ship. Karem felt his stomach—long finished with breakfast—give a hopeful twist.
He immediately grabbed a handful of crumble and tossed it into his mouth.
There was no way it could taste bad. Crumble was basically the most delicious, crunchy outer parts of cookies and pies gathered into one place.
As the buttery richness clung thickly to his tongue and he chewed, a sudden explosion of nutty fragrance burst through the sweetness of the sugar between his upper and lower teeth.
The sharp, piercing intensity of walnut passed first, followed by the soft, gentle flavor of almond that coated his mouth, then the fragrant, non-overlapping harmony of hazelnut. Just when it might have become too much, a clean saltiness rinsed everything away and returned him to the original butter richness.
Out of nowhere Karem thought of the birth parents he had cut ties with in this life. No matter how he looked at it they were absolute bastards who made his stomach turn, yet he felt a flicker of gratitude that they had at least given him a healthy body. If he’d had some allergy or other, he wouldn’t even be able to eat food like this, would he?
“I made it after quite a while. How is it?”
“When it comes to baking, Mary really is the best.”
“Of course I am.”
When Karem offered sincere praise, the corners of Mary’s mouth and eyes—whose default setting was a blank face—lifted ever so slightly.
And against the rustling sounds of crates being searched, the clear crunch-crunch of crumble chewing rang out distinctly.
It was the hour when breakfast had long since settled and stomachs were empty. Moreover, for the sake of the environmentally sensitive magic materials, the warehouse maintained an almost harshly dry atmosphere; the only smells present were a faint wooden scent and salt.
The sharp, stimulating sound and aroma carried with perfect clarity. Catherine, who had been inspecting goods, immediately rose in a towering rage.
“The underlings are sitting around eating snacks without even offering any to their hard-working superiors first?!”
“Strictly speaking, we’re standing right now.”
“Quiet! Stop talking back and bring it over here! Old man!”
At those words Mary smoothly scooped up some crumble and held it out. Catherine accepted it as if it were only natural, then crunched away with the righteous indignation she hadn’t felt in weeks—specifically, several weeks.
Before long Olivier, who had been deeper inside the warehouse, also sidled over and claimed a spot for himself. Unlike Catherine, he ate the crumble one small pinch at a time while grumbling.
“Oof, my back. How many years has it been since I personally checked this volume of magic materials? A hundred? Two hundred?”
“Old man. Already getting fuzzy on the details? The Great Moonlight-Herb Boom.”
“Ah, that time.”
At his graduated disciple’s words Olivier smacked his forehead. When Karem sent them a look that said he wanted the story, Catherine kindly explained.
An ancient vampire, long forgotten by the flow of time, had revived. Because the area around him became a night of perpetual full moon where the sun never rose, a subjugation force was formed; after a fierce battle the vampire and his followers were finally brought down.
“What does that have to do with a boom?”
“Moonlight herbs normally reveal themselves only on moonlit nights and hide underground during the day.”
Catherine gestured for another fistful of crumble from Mary, swallowed, and continued.
“But because of that endless moonlit night, the herbs that had carpeted the vast plain never disappeared even after time passed. Mages and merchants from every corner of the country flocked there to buy them up.”
“From the whole country? For what?”
“Beauty potions made with moonlight herbs became wildly popular among women.”
Olivier snatched the thread of the story. And Karem understood instantly. Even if it were poison, women across every era and world would gladly use it for the sake of beauty—that was simply instinct.
It didn’t seem to be a particularly fond memory; for the first time Karem watched Catherine and Olivier unite in perfect harmony as they poured out complaints. They might call each other “mouthy brat” and “old coot who only lives because he can’t die,” but after years as master and disciple there was bound to be some begrudging affection.
Before long the grumbling shifted to the fact that their staff still hadn’t been replenished even after seasons had passed. Replenished? Karem thought. Even if they were great mages, two people simply didn’t have enough physical hands.
While listening to the two mages’ lamentations, Karem suddenly heard a voice outside the warehouse. It was faint yet familiar; he asked Mary just to be sure.
“That’s His Grace’s voice, right?”
Before Mary could even answer, the door opened as if to confirm it. Nepaneck and Alfred entered, each leading their own escort guards.
“Just as Nepaneck said, you were here. Catherine, Olivier. Something could be heard all the way outside. Was there a problem?”
“Not at all, my lord. As expected of Adobis—there isn’t a single flaw to be found. Kitty?”
“Of course. It’s hard to believe they kept everything this well preserved after traveling such a great distance.”
The sudden encounter between the Duke and the envoy. Despite the abrupt appearance, Olivier and Catherine passed the conversation back and forth more naturally than a flowing river—as if they had never once grumbled or complained. Considering they had once roared at the Duke to his face… or perhaps that was exactly why they were watching their words more carefully now.
Karem tilted his head while picking up another piece of crumble.
In the meantime Nepaneck clapped her hands and turned to Alfred.
“What perfect timing. Your Grace, since both of your people are here as well, would it be all right if we checked the harbor warehouse?”
“Of course. Atanitas, Olivier—would you mind?”
Naturally the two mages rose with unnatural smoothness and cheerfully accepted the high nobles’ suggestion, as if the passionate complaints of moments earlier had never existed.
Karem simply stared at the two mages with slightly narrowed eyes.
“Junior Karem. That is a rude look to give the Contractor.”
“Then I’ll just stare at Lord Olivier.”
“In that case it is fine.”
Attached Reference
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A picture drawn by ChatGPT for us.