“Uh…… why?”
Aiman was bewildered.
He could not become a Mage.
That was the one thing he had wanted above all else.
Seeing the disappointment on Aiman’s face, Keiras spoke with an apologetic expression even though none of this was his fault.
“I just examined you to determine whether you possessed the aptitude to become a Mage. Did you not feel it yourself—that you lack that aptitude?”
He had felt it himself?
What exactly was he supposed to have felt?
‘Ah?’
Aiman recalled what had just happened.
Keiras had said that he would check whether Aiman possessed the aptitude to become a Mage.
Then he placed a hand against Aiman’s chest.
Afterward, he had sent Mana into him.
That was when Aiman had felt pain in his heart.
“Do you mean I cannot become a Mage because of the pain I felt just now?”
Keiras merely looked at Aiman with a sorrowful expression.
After a long silence, he nodded.
“That is correct.”
“Why?”
“To become a Mage, you must create something called a Mana Circle. Ordinarily, only those born with the aptitude to do so can become Mages. Naturally, those incapable of it are ordinary people who cannot become Mages.”
“So I need to form a Mana Circle in my heart, but my body is incapable of doing so?”
“Correct. The pain you felt just now is the proof.”
The pain was the proof.
Keiras’s words echoed in Aiman’s ears.
However, Aiman did not want to give up on becoming a Mage.
If the problem was merely that creating a Mana Circle would cause him pain……
“What if I endure the pain and force myself to create a Mana Circle in my heart?”
“Then you would no longer feel the pain.”
“What? Then can I simply endure it and make one?”
“No. Your heart would be unable to contain the Mana Circle, so it would either explode or stop beating. You would die.”
“That is absurd······.”
“There is a reason Mages are granted nobility. It is because they are that rare and valuable. Although the ability you possess is remarkable, regrettably······.”
Keiras continued as he looked at the visibly devastated Aiman.
“It seems you do not possess the aptitude to become a Mage.”
@
KNOCK, KNOCK.
Someone knocked on the office door of Waibel, the Tax Collector of Jenkins County.
The Tax Collector, who had been absorbed in reviewing documents, answered.
“Come in.”
The office door opened, and a butler entered.
“Tax Collector, Rakhoop is here to see you.”
Waibel looked up from the documents he had been examining.
“Rakhoop?”
“Yes.”
“What is he carrying?”
“He appeared to be carrying a pouch.”
“I see. Send him in.”
“Yes.”
The butler stepped aside, and Rakhoop entered the office.
“It has been a while, Tax Collector.”
“Indeed. What you are carrying looks rather heavy, so set it down there.”
Waibel indicated his writing desk with a jerk of his chin.
Seeing that, Rakhoop thought,
‘The Moneybird, as always······.’
He had brought it precisely because he had expected this reaction.
Rakhoop placed the pouch on the desk as Waibel had instructed.
Then he stepped back as though the pouch he had just set down now belonged entirely to Waibel.
Once the bribe had been placed fully in his possession, Waibel asked,
“By the way, what brings you here? You have hardly visited since I pressured those Wholesalers for you last time.”
“Ha ha, that is hurtful. Anyone listening might think I only visit you when I need something.”
“Is that not the case? Then if you have no business with me, would you care to have a cup of tea before you leave? I shall speak to my butler.”
Waibel had already received the bribe from Rakhoop, so he would not have cared if the man simply left.
However, he was well aware that Rakhoop had personally brought a bribe because he had business to discuss.
That was why Waibel had spoken that way.
He was telling Rakhoop to stop circling around the matter and get to the point.
Rakhoop understood Waibel’s intention perfectly well.
“Come now. It has been so long since we last met. Should we not have a proper conversation? Especially when I have brought a very important matter that could prove ‘profitable.’”
When Rakhoop emphasized the word ‘profitable,’ Waibel’s ears visibly perked up.
Waibel had been lowering his head as though he intended to return to his documents, but he looked back at Rakhoop.
“Oh, my good man. Of course I meant that you should have tea with me.”
“Ha ha, naturally.”
“Take a seat there. You, bring us some tea.”
“Understood.”
Before long, the butler returned with tea.
Waibel immediately sent him away.
“I shall personally pour tea for a guest who has visited me after so long. You may leave us.”
“Understood.”
Once the butler had left, Waibel poured tea into Rakhoop’s cup and spoke.
“Now then, what did you say brought you here?”
He had plainly heard Rakhoop mention profit moments earlier, yet he deliberately pretended not to know.
Rather than openly discussing a money-making opportunity, Waibel was telling him to present the substance of the matter.
Rakhoop began explaining the opportunity.
“Paper is rather expensive, is it not?”
“It is. A single sheet costs as much as 1 Gold. However, does Paper Farm not hold a Monopoly on it?”
Because the Tax Collector handled documents frequently, he knew a considerable amount about paper.
Rakhoop nodded.
“That is correct. Paper Farm holds the Monopoly. However, a few days ago, someone who had produced paper came to see me. The quality was so exceptional that a certain gentleman was even willing to pay more for it than for paper produced by Paper Farm.”
“Hooh, is that so?”
“Yes.”
“Then have you come to ask me to help the person who has begun producing this new paper?”
Rakhoop had brought a bribe and claimed that the matter would be profitable, then begun speaking about someone who had created a new kind of paper.
From Waibel’s perspective, it sounded as though Rakhoop wanted them to assist that person and take a share of the profits.
However, Rakhoop took a sip of tea, set down his cup, and answered.
“The opposite.”
“The opposite?”
“We must pressure him.”
“What are you saying? Are you asking me to pressure an honest merchant? If we are caught, neither you nor I will escape Count Jenkins’s wrath.”
Although the Tax Collector accepted bribes, he could only get away with it because Count Jenkins was unable to oversee everything personally.
However, there was one matter in which Count Jenkins always intervened.
He listened closely to the merchants whose activities allowed Jenkins County to prosper.
One day, Count Jenkins had summoned Tax Collector Waibel and told him,
“I will not rebuke you for accepting bribes. However, do not cross the line. Our territory enjoys such prosperity because of its merchants. If you protect one merchant at another merchant’s expense, I will no longer be able to keep you at my side.”
Count Jenkins also frequently declared that any merchant who suffered losses for another merchant’s benefit should come directly to him rather than approaching the Tax Collector.
There was already a precedent.
A merchant who had suffered losses for another’s benefit had met Count Jenkins personally.
After investigating the matter, Count Jenkins had corrected it when he determined that wrongdoing had occurred.
Of course, that did not mean anyone could approach him with a baseless grievance.
There had also been cases in which someone sought out Count Jenkins, only for the resulting investigation to reveal no wrongdoing in his eyes.
Count Jenkins was always a good Lord to the residents of his territory, but on such occasions, he exercised his authority as a noble and ordered a summary execution.
Both Waibel and Rakhoop knew this perfectly well.
At Waibel’s warning, Rakhoop revealed a sinister smile.
“Heh heh. You need not worry about that. The one we intend to crush is a Serf.”
“A Serf?”
Waibel gave Rakhoop a puzzled look when he heard that the person in question was a Serf.
He had naturally assumed that anyone producing paper would be a merchant.
Furthermore, paper was extraordinarily expensive.
It was difficult to believe that a mere Serf could produce something so valuable.
Rakhoop nodded, confirming that it was true.
“That is correct. A Serf. Why else would I have come to see you in person, Tax Collector?”
“Hmm, a Serf…….”
“If he is a Serf, then he must have made it using the Lord’s property. In that case, should the paper he produced not naturally belong to the Lord as well?”
“If the Serf you speak of used materials from the territory without paying fair compensation, then yes. The paper would belong to the Lord.”
Waibel’s answer matched precisely what Rakhoop had expected.
Rakhoop then began explaining how they could conspire in earnest.
“However, the Lord is a busy man. Would it not be better for us to settle the matter ourselves?”
“Us?”
Waibel frowned when Rakhoop grouped the two of them together.
It sounded as though Rakhoop might expect them to be treated as equals when the scheme was carried out.
Realizing his mistake, Rakhoop quickly corrected himself.
“Ah…… no. I meant that it would be best for you to handle the matter, Tax Collector.”
Now satisfied with Rakhoop’s phrasing, Waibel asked,
“What exactly do you wish to do?”
“Paper produced by Paper Farm sells for 1 Gold per sheet, while the Serf’s paper is of such quality that it could sell for 1 Gold and 50 Silver. A mere Serf cannot have spent much on its production.”
“Then the profit margin would be considerable.”
“Precisely. If you give this Serf, who has been using the Lord’s property without permission, the opportunity to produce paper properly, I will handle the sales and generate the greatest possible profit.”
“Hmm…….”
A peculiar expression appeared on Waibel’s face.
However, Rakhoop knew exactly what it meant.
Waibel always made that peculiar expression when something captured his interest.
A profitable opportunity had appeared, but he could not openly celebrate it, so his face naturally assumed that expression instead.
After observing him, Rakhoop asked,
“What do you think?”
“What if I brought that Serf into my own service and had him produce the paper?”
‘What is this…….’
Waibel appeared to consider the matter for a moment, but his eventual proposal left Rakhoop bewildered.
Rakhoop had brought him a source of profit, yet the Tax Collector now intended to take the paper-producing Serf for himself.
It sounded as though Waibel intended to claim the Golden Calf Rakhoop had brought and monopolize it entirely.
However, Rakhoop could not object.
His original plan would have been difficult to carry out without the Tax Collector’s assistance.
Rakhoop sank into thought.
‘Either way, I will crush that insolent brat’s pride. And if I can purchase my share of the paper this Moneybird monopolizes at a low price…….’
He completed the calculation in an instant.
The profit he could personally obtain would likely be smaller than he had originally expected.
However, he needed the Tax Collector to carry out the plan, so he decided to restrain his greed.
“You should be able to reap ample profit from that, Tax Collector.”
“Ho ho, listen to you. Anyone who heard that would think I intended to do this for my personal gain. Since the paper is produced using the Lord’s property, naturally, this is for the benefit of the territory.”
Rakhoop cursed inwardly at Waibel’s shameless words.
‘Damn hypocrite. He intends to keep everything for himself.’
He could not voice the thought openly.
The Tax Collector had already learned the nature of the profitable opportunity.
Even if Rakhoop withdrew now, Waibel would somehow discover the identity of the Serf who had made the paper and attempt to monopolize the entire business himself.
It would be better to curry favor with the Tax Collector and secure even a small share of the profits.
“Then I will investigate the matter and return to report to you, Tax Collector.”
“Oh, I would be grateful. I shall leave it to you, then.”
“Yes.”
After discussing several more matters, Rakhoop left the Tax Collector’s residence.
Once he had traveled a considerable distance, he spat on the ground with a disgusted expression.
“PTUI! That filthy bastard. I thought he would give me half, but the moment an opportunity arises, he will cut me out and take everything for himself.”
Rakhoop thoroughly disliked Waibel’s manner, but he endured it to obtain even a small profit.
He had also deliberately pretended not to know that Aiman was the Serf who had produced the paper.
He had merely claimed that a certain Serf had brought paper to him.
He did not yet want to place every card in Waibel’s hands.
Still, the matter appeared likely to bring him at least some profit, so he intended to proceed with the plan.
In any case, after spitting once, Rakhoop put the repulsive Waibel out of his mind and decided to visit Aiman, the boy who had harmed his business.
“You damned little Serf, just you wait.”