Chapter 8
Chapter 8
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: Ringing Changes
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Finishing work early didn't mean you got to slack off.
One task done, and the professor would magically appear with another.
It was a harsh lesson from graduate school life.
So, a true goldbricker had to find rest in the middle of working.
And that's exactly what I did. Even after devising a solution to the bell tower issue, I spent the whole day lounging.
Idling away at the top of the bell tower.
"Giuseppe's probably still busting his hump right now, huh?"
My conscience stung a bit, but I had my justifications for slacking off.
Think about it.
The uneven bell tones were due to the tower's structural quirks.
It meant there was some fundamental issue stemming from sound reflections.
But if the tower's structure was truly the culprit...
Why had the problem cropped up so suddenly?
If it was a structural flaw, complaints should've flooded in the moment it was built.
So, I decided to use "investigation" as an excuse to drag things out a bit.
The next day, I told Ellara,
"It'll probably take about a week."
"A week...?"
I meant it'd take a week to handle this job.
"I've pushed it as fast as I can, but any sooner would be impossible..."
"A week?!"
Her eyes went wide as saucers, practically bulging.
"You madman! Isaac, seriously?!"
"...Yes."
She was way too close.
I took a step back from Ellara.
With a knot in my stomach, I asked,
"Is... is that too long? The issue's more complicated than I thought, so maybe five days instea—"
"No, no, not at all!"
Ellara shook her head furiously.
Unable to hide her excitement, she grabbed both my hands.
"I figured it'd take over a month. A week? Incredible."
"..."
"Isaac, you're a god."
Somehow...
I'd made a massive miscalculation.
"A month?"
"I could've taken a month off instead of a week?"
This insane Magic Tower was planning to burn a whole month on fixing one tower?
Back home, they'd give you a week at most.
Good lord.
And just like that, I squandered a month's vacation and turned into a workaholic aiming to solve it in three days.
"..."
"You look like something's bothering you, Isaac?"
"It's nothing."
Ellara assigned me a helper for "solving the problem."
"The bell tower keeper, huh..."
His name was Barnabas.
An old man who'd been tending this tower since the day it was built.
He was sweeping the entrance when he spotted me and scowled.
"Another mage, eh? What're you planning to smash this time?"
Gruff tone.
His voice bristled with thorns.
Can't blame him.
A whole truckload of mages had bungled things here before.
'Announcing I'm a mage would start a riot.'
I bowed politely to the old man.
"Pleasure to meet you. I'm Giuseppe Garneri, aide to the administrative officer in charge. Here for the investigation."
"...Not a mage, then. Sorry about that. Name's Barnabas. I keep this bell tower."
The old man's guard dropped a notch.
He seemed relieved it was a fellow commoner.
Right then—
Grrrrowl...
My empty stomach rumbled, shoving out air.
Obviously from my gut.
Barnabas stared at me for a moment, then sighed deeply and set down his broom.
"Tch. Young buck working on an empty stomach?"
"It's not like that..."
"Come on. Gotta fill the tank before investigating."
And so we headed first to the market district near the bell tower.
Barnabas chuckled slyly.
"This here's the empire's best spot for chicken skewers... uh...?"
"Still prepping for the day."
Barnabas called out to the skewer vendor.
"Hey, kid! No business today? Lunchtime's long gone!"
The owner looked up, annoyed.
"What now... Oh, bell tower gramps? You rung it yet? Damn. Haven't heard that thing properly in ages. Fix it or something."
"...Got it."
At the mention of not hearing the bell, Barnabas's face darkened noticeably.
"..."
"..."
In this era, a job was a calling.
Your profession defined you entirely.
I, a modern guy, couldn't quite grasp that mindset...
But he looked a little pitiful.
I slung an arm around Barnabas's shoulder.
"Looks like you haven't had your skewers either. That gotta sting?"
"Call me a punk one more time and..."
"How about that place next door, then?"
I grabbed two sandwiches right away.
Handed one to old man Barnabas.
"Here."
"...Why?"
"Gotta fill the tank before investigating."
"..."
Nom nom. I chowed down, and so did Barnabas, for a good while.
"This feels more like banh mi or kebab than a straight sandwich."
"What's that?"
"Stuff that exists."
With our stomachs settled, we pressed on with the survey.
A bit later, Barnabas spoke up.
"Thanks. Was in a funk, but you turned it around."
"No biggie. We help each other out. That skewer spot earlier—worst spot for hearing the bell, right?"
"Yeah."
"And the loudest spot?"
"...I know it well."
Our next stop was a noble's estate near the tower.
One mansion in particular had its windows draped in thick soundproof curtains.
"That house must really hate the noise."
"Hate's an understatement."
Barnabas ground his teeth.
"They complain about the bell being too loud every other day."
"...And you handle those complaints?"
"Me."
"..."
Holy... shit.
After that, we circled the tower area, mapping where the sound swelled or faded.
Usually, I'd ask, and Barnabas would answer.
'Pretty much matches my guesses...'
But with some discrepancies.
'This variance ties into when the bell sound went haywire...'
By the end of the survey, we were back at the tower.
'That wall over there's kinda unique.'
One side of the bell tower was engraved floor-to-ceiling with names.
Sergeant Giovanni. Sergeant Major Schwarz. Private Karl... and so on. Ranks and names galore.
Barnabas stared at it, face set like stone.
He said,
"That's enough for today."
"Same time tomorrow?"
"...Can't hear the bell to tell time. You gonna make it?"
"Lucky for me, my room clock uses a cycloidal pendulum for pinpoint accuracy. No worries about being late."
"...What?"
"It exists, gramps."
I wasn't expecting him to get it.
More like force of habit.
Out of things to say, I gazed at the engravings.
Barnabas said,
"Curious what these are? Heroes from the last war who..."
"...A memorial for the fallen."
"Yeah. Commoner who reads, huh?"
"Got lucky."
The names filled an entire wall.
From the plaque, the tower itself commemorated a victory.
Barnabas said,
"Can't read myself. Mind reading the names on that tile for me?"
"Sergeant Ian, Master Sergeant Joaquin, Sergeant Nicholas. And..."
I tried for the name next to Nicholas.
But that spot was worn smooth, illegible.
"This one's too faded."
"...I know that one. Barnes. Sergeant. My son's name."
"..."
His son didn't make it.
Caught me off guard with the heavy talk, but it clicked.
Only that name worn down—he must touch it daily.
Part of his routine.
Barnabas said,
"Thanks. First time in 30 years knowing his comrades."
"No sweat. You could've learned to read too, with some luck. Want me to teach you?"
"Giuseppe, you sure yap at weird times. Just shut up and say 'no problem' here."
"..."
'How do you say "no problem" with your mouth shut?'
Sounded like "close the door and get out."
Close the door, then how do you leave?
Barnabas said,
"This tower's been with me 30 years. Since my boy vanished. It's my son now."
"...I see."
Barnabas's eyes blazed.
"Higher-ups talk tearing it down. Even if it's noisy for them... this is my boy. Won't let 'em take it."
"..."
My slacker conscience, the one plotting to delay work, got poked hard.
No more stalling, it seemed.
Time to solve this for real.
I got to the point.
"Gramps Barnabas. When exactly did the bell sound go wrong?"
"Half a year back. Turned to mush overnight."
"Hm..."
I recalled the market district walls from our walk.
Big cracks in the brick, graffiti suggesting about half a year old.
"Around then, did the tower shake hard, or the ground rumble?"
Barnabas's eyes widened at my question.
"How'd you know? Yeah, it did! Still feels like a tremor sometimes. Started... eight months ago."
"Eight months."
Bingo.
Per the handover docs, major underground aqueduct work began exactly eight months ago.
Weakened the ground, hit critical mass half a year in, subtly twisting the tower's axis.
Messing up sound reflection angles completely.
Puzzle solved.
I'd note the aqueduct bit vaguely in the report.
'Wanted to lounge more, but...'
With the cause pinned, no dragging it out.
Not rushing because of his son story...
Just my whim.
I told Barnabas,
"Gramps, fetch 32 oak planks from the shed?"
"Suddenly why?"
"Need 'em quick. Please."
"...Fine."
He brought the materials, puzzled.
Now, the real work.
Tower blueprints in my head, calculate reverb time first.
Over 4 seconds. Horrific. Target under 2.5.
Factoring oak planks' material and shape, compute incidence and reflection angles.
Done.
Final coords and angles for 32 planks computed.
Just execute.
"Barnabas, I'm about to use some magic. Don't freak."
"Magic? What're you— whoa!"
32 planks flew to their spots.
No nails, no glue needed.
Wood and stone already bonded tight enough.
"..."
Barnabas gawked up at the tower, dumbfounded.
I told him,
"All done."
"Giuseppe... you're a mage. Lied to me."
Barnabas's jaw hung slack, like he'd seen a ghost.
"...Actually, one more fib. Time for proper intros."
"..."
"Isaac Uphills, Magic Tower mage. Nice to meet you, Barnabas."
"Mage... a mage..."
Mages here were near-nobles.
Bell keepers? Commoners.
He bowed to me.
"Didn't recognize nobility... Forgive my rudeness."
I waved it off.
"Nah. Keep it casual. Feels weird getting formal talk from elders."
"Ri— right. Yeah. Got it."
I pointed to the massive bell.
"About that time."
"Time for what?"
Evening toll was nigh.
"Bell-ringing time."
Barnabas hesitated.
"Wanna, but... no evening bells till the sound's fixed."
"Fixed that just now. It'll ring true."
"...For real?"
"For real."
He nodded firmly, resolved.
"Got i— Got it!"
Like decades past, he gripped the thick rope to ring the bell.