Chapter 40

After consulting Kengo, who knew more about this world than I did, and then speaking with Torun as well, who along with Marks seemed well informed about worldly matters, I finally steeled myself.

Well, since there were no other decent options, one could say it had already been decided, but I was not, by nature, someone meant to stand above others. If I had been, then the collapse of that game club back in my university days… and the trauma came back to me.

But this was already a weak territory in another world, one with no room left to retreat, and the one who had incited the lord was none other than me.

When I declared at Iiria’s mansion that I would establish a magic stone processing workshop, Iiria clapped with a smile, while Kururu looked sullen, perhaps appalled at how long it had taken me to decide.

“The guildmaster accepted it more smoothly than I expected. Or rather, with the guild on the verge of splitting apart internally, it seemed more like he was relieved that you’d gather up the rebellious lower-ranking former masters.”

I had also looked into the guild’s rules, and they did adopt a kind of formal democracy, with one vote granted to each workshop master. Of course there was deference based on actual power relations, but no matter how one looked at it, if the small-time masters abandoned their status as masters and gathered under the roof of my workshop, that meant all those many master votes would become just a single vote.

That way, no one would look at it and think it was a takeover of the guild.

“The unfortunate news is that they still wouldn’t waive the guild membership fees and the like.”

“That means we need to pay for each apprentice… including the former masters, right?”

“That’s right. Well, maintaining the guildhall, the artisans’ festivals, condolence money for when someone gets injured or sick, and all sorts of other expenses come up. That part may just be unavoidable.”

“…Have they already forgotten that we wiped out their debts?”

Only Kururu looked displeased.

At that point, Marks, who had done a lot to mediate matters in this affair, raised his hand.

“Just to confirm, Iiria-chan. The former masters won’t lose their citizenship, right?”

A master who belonged to an artisans’ guild and was master of his own domain was also someone with full citizenship.

I still did not really understand the feeling of it, but whether one had citizenship or not seemed to carry tremendous significance for the people of this world. Even living in the same place, in the same house, having citizenship or not meant having a completely different status.

“Of course. From the perspective of someone collecting taxes, it helps to have more citizens.”

Marks drew back his neck at Iiria, who narrowed her eyes with a wicked smile.

Marks, who had grown up in the orphanage and was also the ringleader of the town’s petty villains, of course did not have citizenship.

Because of the matter of driving out Nodon, Iiria apparently wanted to grant Marks citizenship, but he kept running away, saying all the obligations of being a citizen, starting with paying taxes, were too bothersome.

“On the other hand, Yorinobu, from now on you’ll be able to use a family name, so you’ll no longer be just plain Yorinobu.”

“Ah, right.”

I was the owner of the workshop, in other words, the master. Only someone with citizenship could become a master, but conversely, becoming a master also meant one had to possess citizenship.

“So what kind of family name will you choose?”

Beside the cheerful Iiria, Kururu too, for some reason, looked a little restless.

I answered at once.

“Takahashi.”

Iiria and Kururu exchanged glances, and Iiria spoke for the two of them.

“Takahashi? It has a rather strange sound. Does it feel like something from a desert country, maybe?”

“Ah, no, it was originally my own name…”

A handle name, a pen name, or the player name one gives in a game.

Something elaborate like that just felt embarrassing somehow.

“Oh? Then were you a citizen in your previous world?”

I almost said, “A common citizen,” but stopped myself, because it absolutely would not get across. The sense of the word citizen was just too different between this world and the previous one.

“Well, Yorinobu itself is a hard name to say, so maybe it suits you.”

I thought Kururu was giving it a fair fight when it came to being hard to say, but I still did not really understand the sensibilities of people here.

“Then I’ll take care of the citizenship registration on this side.”

“Really, Iiria-sama? Can we finally entrust work to you?”

Kururu was teasing Iiria’s aversion to writing, something quite rare. Iiria, who apparently always ran from paperwork and shoved it onto Kururu, clung to Kururu in a panic.

“Then we need to tell the masters about the decision. The worksite will be Nodon’s mansion, right?”

Marks said that and rose from his chair.

“We kind of decided that on a whim, but will everyone fit? We’ll need to bring in workbenches and all sorts of things from each of their workshops, right?”

“The courtyard is wide enough, so I think it’ll work, but lining them all up under those lavish corridors… that’s one luxurious workshop, all right.”

Marks laughed in amusement.

The courtyard of Nodon’s mansion was laid out with corridors surrounding the garden, with unmistakably palace-like tastes, complete with Greek-style colonnades supporting the second floor.

When Nodon was flaunting his power, he had apparently filled the courtyard with wine barrels like ponds, hung meat and food from the eaves of the second floor, and partied there with swarms of town girls—quite literally a forest of meat and a lake of wine.

Now there was no trace of that left, and it was simply too much space going to waste.

“If any of the apprentices want to live here, I’d like to open up the rooms too.”

“You mean the apprentices… no, including the former masters, would end up living in better rooms than the masters, you know.”

“Ah, right. Would that be a problem?”

“Hmm…”

As Marks and I were discussing these practical matters, a figure suddenly pushed in between us.

“More importantly, there’s something more important, right?”

“Huh?”

It was Kururu, pushing Marks aside.

What was strange, though, was that she had her hands behind her back and was averting her eyes in an unusually fidgety way.

I was wondering what it was about when Marks suddenly spoke up.

“What’s this, Kururu-chan? Are you trying to decide on the workshop signboard?”

“W-wait!”

Marks, like the slippery swindler he was, snatched away what Kururu had been hiding behind her back.

It turned out to be several worn sheets of paper, all densely covered in various drawings.

“You did a good job with these.”

“Give them back!”

After flipping through a few pages, Marks handed the whole bundle over to Iiria.

Kururu then wrung her hands, flustered for a moment, before finally sulking.

“I was wondering what Kururu had been doing lately, shutting herself in her room again.”

“I-it’s not like it matters! Here, Iiria-sama! Give them back!”

At the sight of Kururu trying to brazen it out, Iiria’s eyes sparkled, and then, putting on a shamelessly innocent act, she shoved the stack of papers into my hands.

“The new master should decide.”

“Ugh.”

Kururu compared Iiria’s face and mine, her tail going rigidly straight.

But after a while, the strength left it, and she said brusquely,

“…I just drew them randomly.”

For Kururu, it was unusually weak-hearted.

But from the sheer number of variations drawn on the papers, it was clear that she had thought about it very seriously.

And, somewhat surprisingly, since Kururu had secretly aimed to become a magic stone artisan herself, she was actually quite good at drawing.

What caught my eye among them was a simple design, one that anyone could recognize at a glance as belonging to a magic stone processing workshop: a modified version of the most basic and most famous magic circle of all.

“Eh?”

But when I pointed at it, even Kururu herself looked surprised.

“No, but… that one…”

“Which one?”

Iiria and Marks both leaned in, and the moment they saw what I was pointing at, they smiled in a rather suggestive way.

“For someone who looks so pale and harmless, you’ve got that kind of side to you, huh?”

said Marks.

“I like mean little jokes too.”

At Iiria’s words, I objected in an exaggerated tone.

“It’s not a joke at all. There are bound to be people who feel uneasy about us setting up a magic stone processing workshop.”

That was not, strictly speaking, a matter of people, but Iiria only shrugged.

“Let’s go with this.”

What I chose was a basic magic circle representing flame, drawn above a single hammer laid horizontally.

The flame magic circle was also the one Kururu had first used when we discovered the tremendous secret of the magic stones.

And added to that magic circle was a tiny modification, made to resemble part of the circle itself.

It probably had no meaning whatsoever for actually casting magic, but anyone who saw it and knew would understand it at once.

“Beast ears on a magic circle.”

Given the history of magic, humans, and beastfolk, one might even call it a terribly ominous joke.

But the one who ruled this Jirenu Territory was Iiria, who had beast ears and a tail, and if we meant to affirm that, then having at least this much force behind it was only fitting.

“That settles it!”

Iiria, oddly energetic at times like this, snatched the paper from my hand and declared it.

“Then what will we name the workshop?”

“The straightforward answer would be Takahashi Workshop, wouldn’t it? It’s the master’s family name, after all.”

Marks said that, and Iiria repeated “Takahashi Workshop” under her breath as if rolling it around in her mouth, then nodded.

“What do you think, Kururu?”

Asked as though only just remembering her, Kururu answered while sulking and looking away.

“As you wish!”

I would have liked to ask Kengo too, but if Iiria was in favor of it, then Kengo would probably not object.

“Then let’s go with that.”

A workshop bearing my own name felt strange, but it was also true that, somehow, for the first time, I felt as though I had found a place to belong in this world.

I looked at the paper in Iiria’s hands, at the drawing of the signboard that was apparently going to belong to my workshop, and then I looked over at Kururu.

Kururu, who normally did nothing but overwhelm me, now looked almost cowed, baring herself defensively like a kitten carried into an unfamiliar house.

“Thank you for the signboard design.”

When I thanked her like that, her ears and tail both stretched straight out again, and she turned away.